That Summer Night (Callaways #6) (2 page)

"The E.R. was hopping all night," Kari continued. "People sure get trigger happy when the temperature rises."

Kari had no idea that her casual words set off another rolling wave of panic within Shayla. She was supposed to work in the E.R. on her next rotation. How was she going to handle gunshot wounds, stabbings and more violence? She'd always thought of herself as a strong person, until now…

Shayla tried to drive the anxiety away by changing the subject. "Do you want some coffee? I just made some."

"No thanks. The last thing I need is more caffeine. I'm going to try to get at least six hours of sleep before I go back to the hospital."

"You're working another double shift?"

"Yes, but it's fine. I'm leaving tomorrow for five days, so I'll have time to relax then."

She'd forgotten Kari was going away, and she dreaded the idea of five days alone in the apartment. Not that she needed to be alone. She could always go home to her parents' house or stay with one of her siblings, but that would require more explanations than she wanted to make.

Kari yawned. "I'm going to hit the sack. See you later."

As Kari left the room, the front door buzzer rang. Shayla almost jumped out of her skin. It was way too early for visitors. She walked over to the intercom and warily said, "Yes?"

"It's Emma. Can I come up for a quick second?"

Shayla inwardly groaned. She'd been avoiding Emma's calls all week. She should have guessed her big sister wouldn't give up that easily. "Kari is sleeping. I'll come down." Maybe if she didn't let Emma into the apartment, she could get rid of her more quickly.

Shayla jogged down three flights of stairs and pushed open the front door.

Emma Callaway Harrison stood on the steps. Her big sister by six years, Emma was a slender blonde with short, angled, straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes that were often inquisitive. She was dressed for her job as a fire investigator for the San Francisco Fire Department, wearing black slacks and a white button-down blouse with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows in deference to the summer heat.

"What are you doing here so early?" Shayla asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Not with me. But we're all worried about you," Emma said pointedly. "You haven't returned anyone's calls since you got back from Colombia. Mom says she saw you for five minutes three days ago, and you looked exhausted and too thin." Emma's gaze swept her body. "I thought she was exaggerating, but she wasn't. When did you eat last?"

"I had a stomach bug, and I haven't felt like talking to anyone."

"But you're better now?"

"Getting there." She hoped her sister's sharp gaze wouldn't see the lie in her words. As an investigator, Emma was really good at spotting liars. "I'll call Mom later and reassure her."

"Maybe you should go see her." Emma's eyes filled with compassion. "We don't know the details of what happened to you in Colombia, since you haven't wanted to fill us in, but from what I've read online, it sounds like it was terrifying."

"It was, but I'm okay."

"Are you? You don't seem like yourself, Shay. And while you've looked exhausted for most of medical school, now you're almost a shadow of yourself."

She shrugged and pushed a strand of hair off of her face. "I'll admit I'm tired, but a few more days of rest, and I'll bounce back."

"Sometimes it helps to talk to someone. If not me, then someone else."

She wished she could talk to Emma, but even without the promise she'd made to Robert, she couldn't speak about what had happened. "I'll think about it. So, how is everything with you and Max? Is your husband still amazingly awesome?"

"Absolutely. Married life is better than I ever imagined." Emma's eyes sparkled with happiness. "We've started talking about kids."

"Really?" Her sister had spent the past decade focused on her career in the fire department, first as a firefighter and then as a fire investigator.

"We're not rushing into anything," Emma added quickly. "Just talking about it. Since I've been spending time with Sara and Aiden, I've gotten a touch of baby fever."

"I can totally understand that. Chloe is adorable."

"But first I have to figure out how to juggle my career with being a mother."

"Probably a good idea, although not your usual approach to life." While Shayla had always been a planner, Emma liked to leap first and think about how to land later.

"I'm trying to be smart. Anyway, I also came here to talk to you about Drew and Ria's wedding. We're meeting tomorrow at noon at the bridal boutique to try on our dresses and then we're going to lunch on Fisherman's Wharf. It's going to be just the girls, and I want you there."

"I will be."

"Good. I better get to work. See you tomorrow."

As Emma walked out to her car, Shayla looked around the neighborhood. There was a woman putting out the trash a few buildings down, a man walking his dog by the corner, and another man trying to park his SUV in an incredibly tight spot.

It was a typical morning in San Francisco. She was a long way from Colombia, from the men with guns, but she still couldn't stop the goose bumps that lit up her arms. She walked quickly back into her building, making sure the front door locked behind her. As she walked up the stairs to her apartment, she wondered if she'd ever feel safe again.

Chapter Two

"So what's your plan, Becker?" Jared Stone filled a shot glass with Jack Daniels whiskey and pushed it across the bar.

Reid Becker sighed at the familiar question that seemed to come more frequently with each passing day. Since gunfire had shattered his left leg nine months ago, he'd been forced out of the Army where he'd spent the last sixteen years of his life, most recently on an elite tactical fighting unit. He still had his leg, and eventually he would be free of pain and able to live a normal life; he just wouldn't be able to do what he'd been trained to do, what he loved to do,
all
he knew how to do...

Which brought him back to Jared's question.

What the hell was he going to do next?

"Right now I'm just going to drink." He lifted the glass to his lips and enjoyed the warm, tingly slide of alcohol down his throat.

"Like you've done way too many nights for the last few months," Jared observed as he wiped down the bar with a towel. "As much as I appreciate your business, I'm concerned. You've never been a guy to do nothing. What's the deal?"

He had no answers. Everything Jared had said was true.

"Are you thinking you're going to find a way back into the Army?" Jared asked.

"No. That's over." He shrugged and smiled. "Maybe I'll open up a bar. It seems to work for you."

"It does work for me, and there are certainly worse things you could do, but I can't see you as a bartender."

"Because I'd drink all my profits?" he asked lightly.

"There's that. But you'd also be bored out of your mind in a minute. You're used to action, and while we have the occasional bar fight, most nights are pretty tame."

"Do you ever miss the action?" Jared had served with him for over seven years. He'd left the Army three years ago to take over the family bar after his dad had a heart attack.

"I miss the guys, but nothing else. I sure don't miss the desert, the bad food, or the threat of dying every day. I never lived for the adrenaline rush the way you did." Jared poured some peanuts into a bowl and pushed it across the bar. "Eat something. Soak up the booze."

"I'm not hungry. And I don't want to soak anything up."

Jared sighed. "You're damn stubborn."

"That’s news?"

"Why don't you go to work for Matt? He's been trying to get you into his company ever since you got out of the hospital."

"I'm considering my options." Matt Kelton was another Army buddy who had opened a private security firm that apparently was booming with business. While investigative work could certainly be dangerous and challenging, Reid couldn't seem to get up the energy to have a conversation about it. He knew that eventually he had to dig himself out of the rut he'd gotten into, because Jared was right; he didn't like to do nothing. Unfortunately, there was nothing besides the Army that he really wanted to do.

"What other choice do you have?" Jared asked.

"Right now, my best option is to get drunk and see if I can pick up that redhead over there." He tipped his head toward the tall woman who'd been sending him a flirtatious smile for the past fifteen minutes.

Jared grinned. "That's not going to be a challenge. You used to like to push yourself, Becker."

"I'm not that man anymore." His words came out more serious than he'd intended. But they were all true.

"So be the man you are now."

"This is the man I am now." He tossed back the shot of whiskey. Then he headed across the bar, hoping to find more pleasant conversation.

* * *

Reid Becker was nothing like his brother. Shayla made that assessment in about ten seconds—the length of time it took for the man to settle on a couch between a pretty brunette and a busty redhead.

Reid was attractive in a scruffy, sexy, take-no-prisoners, don't-get-attached kind of way. Just the kind of man she would have expected to see in a bar called the Cadillac Lounge. His jeans were faded. His t-shirt had a guitar on the front, and he didn't look like he'd shaved in a day or two. He had penetrating eyes, green, she thought, and his thick, wavy, tousled brown hair looked as if someone had run their hands through it—maybe the redhead who was stroking his thigh while whispering something in his ear.

Reid laughed and gave the woman a quick kiss before calling the waitress over for another shot.

Shayla frowned. This was the man who was supposed to save Robert? He was either drunk or on his way to it. She really wished Robert had agreed to let her call Max. Emma's husband was a detective. Max could do more for Robert than this guy. But Robert had been insistent that she trust no one but Reid. Right now he seemed like the last man she should trust.

Someone bumped into her from behind, and she stumbled forward. Reid suddenly looked up, his gaze meeting hers. Then he gave a beckoning wave.

She started at the gesture and turned around to see if he was talking to someone behind her, but there was no one there. When she turned back to face him, she saw amusement in his eyes.

"You," he said, motioning her to come forward. "I could use a blonde over here."

She frowned at his suggestive and rude comment. As much as she wanted to blow him off, she couldn't. She'd promised Robert. So she stepped forward and gave him what she hoped was a serious and sharp look. "Are you Reid Becker?"

"Who wants to know, babe?"

"My name is Shayla Callaway." She looked for some sort of recognition, but there was nothing more than casual curiosity in his gaze. Apparently, Robert had never mentioned her to his brother. "I need to talk to you."

He patted his thigh. "I got a spot right here for you, sweetheart."

"It's about your brother."

His jaw tightened, and anger flashed through his eyes. "What about him?"

"Could we speak in private?"

"I'm not interested in anything Robert has to say."

"Robert isn't the one talking; I am. It will take just a few minutes," she added, feeling a little desperate. She'd expected Robert's brother to want to help her, but this man had gone cold at the mention of his brother's name. "It's important. A matter of life and death."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze searching her face as if to judge the sincerity of her words. Finally, he disengaged himself from the women and stood up. He was taller than Robert—taller, broader, stronger, sexier…

Her stomach tightened as he walked over to her.

"So, talk," he ordered.

"Outside," she said, not letting him intimidate her. She was used to strong men. She had five brothers and a father and a grandfather who were leaders among men. Not only that, she was a female doctor who'd taken a lot of crap over the years. She could handle this guy. At least she thought she could. She just needed to get past the unexpected nervous tingle running down her spine.

She turned away from Reid and walked toward the front door, hoping he would follow. After a moment's hesitation he did exactly that.

When they neared the door, Reid put a hand on her shoulder and said,

"This is far enough."

She glanced around, wanting to make sure there was no one close enough to hear what she was about to say. Then she looked back at Reid. While she could smell the liquor on his breath, the gleam in his eyes told her he was paying attention.

"I was working for your brother at a clinic in Colombia until a week ago. There was trouble. Some people were hurt—killed—and your brother went missing." She licked her dry lips. "This morning Robert called me. He said he was in danger and that only you could help him."

"Is this a joke?" Reid asked, disbelief in his eyes, eyes that were definitely green, a beautiful green, she thought, distracted by his gaze. "Well?" he prodded.

"No, it's not a joke," she said, forcing herself to focus. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because there's no way Robert could possibly think that I would want to help him."

She remembered what Robert had said on the phone—that he didn't know how long it would take her to convince his brother to meet him. "Look, it's not a joke. I don't know what's between you and your brother, but Robert said you are the only one who can save his life." She saw lingering doubt in Reid's expression and searched for another way to convince him. "It was on the news—the attack on the clinic—you can look it up online. I'm not lying about what happened. Your brother is in serious trouble."

Reid ran a hand through his hair, his jaw stiff with tension, his eyes glittering with emotions she couldn't begin to decipher.

"This doesn't make any sense," he muttered.

"Maybe it will make sense if we keep talking. Can we get some coffee?" She could see the indecision in his eyes, but she couldn't take no for an answer. "What do you have to lose by having a cup of coffee with me?" she asked. "Just give me fifteen minutes."