The world came back slowly. Hovering on the blurry edges of consciousness, Callie slowly roused, but her hands refused to move. For a second, she thought she was lying in her bed, but why couldn’t she move? Had her hands fallen asleep? Where was she? In a flash, everything came back to her in a rush. She’d gotten home, headed to the kitchen, heard a noise, and then a rush of movement. An attack. Blows to her head and face, then everything had gone dark.

The surface underneath her was hard. She wasn’t in her bed. She wasn’t even in her house. She was someplace that smelled of oil, of dust, and age . . . of abandonment. Her head hurt. No, it more than hurt. It pounded. She winced and tried to move her arms, then realized she had been bound to a chair, her arms behind her back. She tried to shuffle her feet, but they too were bound, tightly at the ankles. She wiggled her wrists, wincing at the pain and stiffness in her shoulders, her fingers and hands numb. She wasn’t bound by rope . . . duct tape. It was duct tape.

She tried to open her mouth, but her skin stretched painfully. That too was covered with a strip of duct tape. Oh God. What was happening? Why? Had her stalker finally grown bold enough to do something? But why bring her here, wherever here was? She fought through the pain crashing through her skull with every move, remembering the blows she had taken, worrying that she was in for more. She tried to peer around the room, to determine where she might be, but it was nearly pitch black. Silent. High up on one wall she thought she made out a window frame, but plywood or something else had covered most of it, a thin shaft of moonlight oozing through a corner.

She tried to fight back her fear, to prevent herself from growing overwhelmed with terror and panic. She slowed her raspy breath, tried to still her wild tremors, beat back the whimpers that threatened to escape, all she could manage with the duct tape over her mouth. How long had she been here? How long had she been unconscious? Who was her stalker? What did he want? Her thoughts ran wild, recalling stories she had read in the newspaper of women chained in basements for years. Would anyone come looking for her? How would they know where to look?

What if she—

A door slammed, muffled and distant. Then footsteps. Heavy footsteps, her captor perhaps wearing boots that were thudding dully against a floor. Concrete maybe. Another door suddenly slammed open and a shaft of light shot into the room, causing her to blink and turn her head away, which only prompted yet another stab of pain.

“Good, you’re awake. We need a little chat.”

Callie turned toward her captor, a frown of confusion tugging at her brow, curiosity getting the best of her despite her distress. The light shining from behind the man prevented her from seeing his face, but she did remember the tall, lanky figure that had attacked her in her kitchen. She wanted to ask him what he wanted with her, but she couldn’t utter a word with the duct tape over her mouth.

He stepped forward. Her heart thundered, pounding against her chest, her pulse leaping erratically, eyes widening with dread. What was he going to do? He moved to the side and it was then, in the reflected light of the doorway beyond, that she saw his face. Something about it was vaguely familiar. Where had she seen him before? At the store? At work? Who—

“You don’t even recognize me, do you?”

His voice was soft but had a harsh edge to it. She stared up at him, refusing to make a sound. Don’t make him mad. Don’t make him mad! Wait . . . did she recognize that voice? Did she—

“I’m disappointed in you, Callie.”

And then she knew. She stared up at him, confused and terrified. She had only seen Captain Andrews a couple of times, one of them when David’s body had been returned to the states, the next time at his funeral. She hadn’t made the connection. He only called her once, on the pretext of making sure that she had gotten the flowers. Though a little weird, it had been the anniversary of David’s death. She’d brushed it off. Was she now going to pay for that mistake with her life?

He reached forward, and she cringed, jerking her head back, a moan escaping her throat at the resulting pain. He chuckled, then ran a finger down the side of her face before abruptly tugging at one end of the duct tape and ripping it off her mouth. She worked up the courage to speak.

“You’re  . . . Captain Andrews, what have you done?”

He stared down at her, eyes shining in the dull light from the neighboring room, a cramped office of some sort, his lips turned up in amusement. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“You’ve been . . . you’re my stalker?” she asked, voice crackling with disbelief, her tone hoarse and dry.

“You might say that, but not in the same sense of the word. I’m not interested in you personally, Callie. And certainly not sexually.”

“Then what? Why have you been sending me notes? Have you been trying to scare me?” It seems like such an innocuous conversation, but she needed to know. What was going on?

“To scare you? Yes indeed, you might say that.”

“But . . . but what do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Callie, except your silence.”

She frowned again. “My silence?” Her heart accelerated and her ears rang. Did that mean what she thought it might? He was crazy, had to be. What—

He leaned down, bracing his hands on his knees, his face now on a level with hers. The expression on his face startled her, having morphed from calm to really pissed off, his eyebrows pulled low, the sneer twisting his lips.

Her body thrummed with panic and she tried to move her hands, but the duct tape just tightened. She tried to twist away, her eyes filling with tears of frustration. Oh God, what was going to happen to her? What could she do to save herself?

“Unfortunately, Callie, you happen to be what, in the military, we call collateral damage.”

“Collateral . . . what are you talking about? I don’t understand!” She cringed at the tremor in her voice, the fear that burgeoned up inside her. Collateral damage? What did that mean?

“He’s talking about what he did in Afghanistan.”

Callie startled and turned toward the doorway as a shadow flitted past it, the voice sounding like a muffled echo in the still emptiness of the room. She turned in time to watch her captor stiffen and reach for the gun he had tucked into his waistband.

“Don’t even try it, Captain.”

Callie barely bit back the gasp of surprise and a fleeting cry as she recognized Grady standing in the doorway, just for a moment, a gun in his hand pointed at the captain as he slipped into the deeper shadows of the room, his movements silent.

“Step away from her.”

Hands raised, the captain did as he was told, but as much as she wanted to look over to Grady, Callie didn’t dare take her eyes off Andrews. She talked instead. “Grady! How did you—what’s going on? What does he mean by collateral damage?”

“The captain probably figured you’d read David’s journal. You hadn’t, had you?”

“No, I gave it to you, remember?”

Grady stepped further into the room, still covered in shadows. He held something in his other hand. She recognized it as David’s journal. He took another step closer to the captain. “Take the gun out of your waistband, very carefully, with your fingertips, and put it on the floor. If you don’t, it’ll be the last mistake you ever make.”

“Grady, what’s going on?” Callie asked, desperate for answers. Her gaze darted between the two. How had Grady found her? Were the police coming? None of this made any sense! “Grady, what did he do? Why is he after me?”

“It’s a bit of a complicated story, Sweetheart,” Grady said, stepping closer and placing a solid, reassuring hand on her shoulder, but not taking his eyes off the captain. “You see, back in Afghanistan, the captain here a little side business going.”

“Fuck you, Corben,” Andrews snarled.

“Right back at you, Captain,” Grady snapped back. He continued, again speaking to Callie though he took another step toward him. “Oh, and by the way, the cavalry is coming.”

“You don’t understand—”

Grady interrupted. “Oh, I understand all too well, Captain. You got greedy.” He spoke aside to Callie. “You see, Callie, the captain here thought it would be a good idea to get into the opium business. Opium grows all over the place in Afghanistan. He made a deal with a village chief, one that kept our guys away from the area by pretending to be friendly to our forces. But really, they weren’t. They had their own agenda, but that’s something you couldn’t control, not really. Isn’t that right, Captain?”

Callie still didn’t understand. Opium? What did that have to do with her?

“David found out, didn’t he?” Grady asked, his gun not wavering from Andrew’s torso. The captain didn’t reply. “I’m not sure how he found out, but he wrote it down in his journal. He was keeping track of you, Captain, and intended to report his suspicions to Lieutenant Gerard. And you knew very well that that village, the one we chased the insurgents to after the attack that killed David, wasn’t friendly. You manage to cover it up somehow . . . I haven’t figured that part out yet, but I promise that I will. We will, count on it.”

“We? Who’s we?” Andrews asked. Despite the gun pointed at his chest, he pulled his shoulders up, his voice almost haughty. “You have no proof, and no idea who you’re messing with.”

“He’s talking about me.”

Callie gasped and turned at the noise. Another shadow had appeared, sliding around the doorway. Followed by another.

“Me as well.”

“You promised the Afghan chief that you’d get him American money in return for raw opium that he transported out of that village—to a chain of drug smugglers operating out of Kandahar to export the drugs to Africa and then to South America and into the US.”

“Again, you have no proof,” Andrews snapped, though he sounded less confident now.

Were these guys cops? No, they didn’t act like cops, weren’t yelling and shouting for Andrews to get down, to put his arms behind his back. Immediately, she knew exactly who had come to her rescue. Members of his club. They were Steel Kings. Could it really be over, was it possible? “Grady—”

A flash of movement and shadows. A gunshot rang out. Andrews slid into the darkness. Gunfire exploded. Grady shoved Callie, still tied to the chair, to the ground, and she landed on her side, crying out with pain as the impact against the floor jarred every bone in her body. Her ears rang with the sound of two more gunshots, bullets ricocheting and pinging off the walls. The next thing she knew, Grady was in front of her, shielding her with his own body as he fired his gun. The small room smelled with the stench of acrid gunfire, her vision blinded by the sudden flashes of light.

A shriek of pain and then the gunfire stopped.

“A light!” came a voice. Not Grady’s. “Get a light in here!”

A flashlight flicked on and then another, the beams traversing the room, seeking the captain. He sat huddled in a corner, legs splayed out in front of him, blood dripping from a bullet wound in his shoulder and oozing from between his fingers as he held his hand to the wound, staring wide-eyed at the three men who stared back at him.

“You don’t know . . .”

Callie watched as a tall, broad-shouldered man strode past Grady, his silver automatic weapon still trained on the captain as Grady gently lifted her chair upward, peering at her, examining her, his eyes wide with fear.

“I’ve got him covered, Grady, take your time,” the man said.

“Thanks, Levi.”

Callie stared at him and then another tall, lean man who appeared behind the stocky guy, also with his weapon trained on the captain. She turned to look at Grady, eyes still wide with confusion. “I don’t understand—”

His hands ran all over her. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to push you down so hard.”

“Grady, I’m okay. But I just don’t understand—”

She said nothing more as Grady crouched down in front of her and placed both of his hands on her cheeks, gazing deeply into her eyes. The worry in his gaze was obvious, and she had to nod, reaffirming that she was all right. In the next breath, his lips were on hers, warm, strong, comforting, and then he buried her head against his chest. He reached behind her, cradling her shoulders with one arm as he cut through her bindings. Where he’d gotten the knife to do so she had no idea, and she didn’t care. The moment her hands were free, she wrapped them around Grady’s shoulders. Finally, reluctantly, Grady pulled away and slashed at the bindings around her ankles.

“Let’s get you out of here. We’ll call it in after we’ve cleared out, and then I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

With that, he bent down, lifted her in his arms, and carried her out of the building, leaving his two friends behind, both guns trained on the captain. Both gave him a short nod as he left the room, hugging her even closer. Her heart still pounding, still confused, but still a sense of security flooded through her; something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

A very long time.

“Where are we going?” she asked. The strength of Grady’s arms as he held her was the best feeling in the world. His grip was safe, strong, almost as if he had no broken ribs, no remnants of a concussion of his own.

“I’m taking you home.”

“Why don’t you take me to yours?”

He froze and stared down at her with a slight frown. “My home? You mean at the . . .  at the compound?”

She nodded. “I want to know that part of your life, Grady. I want to come with you.” She hesitated. Maybe he didn’t want her—

“You want to live with me?” he asked, his tone filled with disbelief.

She smiled up at him. It was now or never. “I want this, Grady. I want you. How else are we going to figure out how to make it work?”

A grin turning up the corners of his mouth. “You really want this? Even after everything tonight?” They reached a truck she didn’t recognize, and Grady opened the passenger door, gently placing her inside. “It’s Seth’s,” he said by way of explanation. “He’ll bring my bike back.” His expression turned gruff. “No way are you riding back on the back after everything you’ve been through tonight.”

In the distance, red and blue flashing lights lit the darkness. “We better get moving. Looks like Levi made the call.”

She watched the lights a moment, then lifted her lips to lightly kiss Grady’s jaw. “Well, what do you think? About me, about us?”

He turned away from the approaching squad cars and smiled down at her. “I think that’s a great idea. Best you’ve ever had.”

She looked up into the night sky, thousands of stars shimmering in the black blanket of the sky, and got the oddest feeling that David was up there somewhere, smiling down at her. At both of them.

“Sounds perfect.”

Thank you for reading Callie and Grady’s story. to be the first to know when the next Steel Kings MC books is released!