—— CHAPTER NINETEEN ——
Blaming a lack of sleep on Derek’s injuries was what a weak woman would do. Callie wasn’t weak. She had given the Soul Charmer the information he wanted. His henchman had told him about Tess’s injuries. Callie had winced, but the salacious way he licked his lips at the news had been replaying in her mind for hours. She’d ignored the Charmer as he laid out his plans for his new prisoner, and had held steady long enough to claim Derek.
She had rescued him from that den of depravity, and then tucked him into her bed. Now her battered brain flitted between worry for the man she cared for and dread that he’d reject her once he knew what she’d done to collect him.
Trading one worry for a lesser one wasn’t healthy, but she wasn’t about to become a yogi anyway. Digging into her task for Ford should have been terrifying, but her nerves were fried. The blueprints Ford had provided seemed straightforward. At least something was. Callie pinched the bridge of her nose. Easy plans didn’t exist. Their extraction of Tess proved that.
She headed to the bedroom at the sound of a muffled groan. Derek was sprawled across her bed. She’d stripped him of his jacket and shirt when they’d returned from the Charmer’s. He’d curled into a ball and fallen asleep quickly. Now, though, he’d opted for a starfish position. She sat in one of the two open spaces on the bed, her hip next to his.
“How are you feeling?” She hadn’t soothed anyone in a long time. Was she doing it right?
“Like someone stabbed me in the chest.” His road-rashed voice made her wince.
“At least you weren’t shot?” Probably not the right thing to say.
He gave a single laugh, but the force made him cough. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. Callie didn’t wipe them away. Tucking him into bed and offering him pain killers was one thing, but drying tears was another.
She glanced toward the bathroom. The fact that he was conscious meant the pills were wearing off. “Sorry.”
“No need, doll,” he croaked.
“You want another Vicodin?” He hadn’t asked why she had a stash. It was nice not to be questioned.
“In a few. I’ll be functional tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “Blood loss is warping your sense of time. It was a deep cut, too. You’ll be out of commission for a bit.”
“Charmer’s stuff works fast.”
His blackmail sure got her into that basement lickety split. She stowed her guilt. “Says the man groaning in bed.”
“You like when I groan in bed.” Even injured, he could get her blood pumping. Like sex was a good idea right now.
“I only like it if I’m the one making you groan. Now, seriously, you need rest.”
Derek grabbed her hand as she started to stand. “I’ll be on my feet in the morning. Don’t worry about the shit with Ford. I’ll still be there to help.”
She needed to work on her poker face. “You can’t go with me anyway—”
“I can’t go inside. We talked about this. I’ll be there.”
“You need to heal.”
“His magic has fixed more than a slice of my flesh before. Trust me.”
God, she did, and it turned her stomach. What other injuries had Derek received while working for that man? How many times had he been revived by magic? He wouldn’t let another soul touch his, but there had to be consequences to this type of thing as well.
“Why work for him?” she whispered as the thoughts coalesced.
“It’s what I’m good at, and my loyalty is valued there.” The hardness in his voice was full of pain, but it had nothing to do with the stitched wound on his chest. It slammed the door on the conversation, but told her more than enough. He owed the Charmer. She sensed it wasn’t an indentured servitude like hers, but whatever it was, it was big. And he did not want to discuss it.
Letting it slide was the adult thing to do. Being an adult sucked. “Understood. You still want that pill?”
He gave her a weak smile. “Yeah.”
Once Derek was snoozing again, she returned to memorizing her heist plans. The petty crimes in her past hadn’t prepared Callie for a task of this magnitude. The closest to on-site police she’d gotten was a mall rent-a-cop, and it wasn’t exactly difficult to evade a man who was forty pounds overweight. Desk jockey police might not be in their prime, but they’d catch her or shoot her. Guns were a factor she hated having to contemplate.
What kind of favor would the Soul Charmer demand in exchange for healing a bullet wound? She’d be indebted for a year, at least. One would think the fear of being shot would be at the top of her terror list, but it’s what would happen after the bullet hit her that scared Callie the most.
If she designed a government building, she’d make it a maze. Gem City Police apparently didn’t agree, or maybe they didn’t expect bad guys to want to break into their facilities. Either way, the path to the server storage room was simple. She’d walk one hallway until it ended, take a left, and the door would be there. It was in the center of the building, but not exactly hard to access. Blueprints were deceptive, though. The printouts on their own wouldn’t show all the opportunities for things to go to shit.
Ford or one of his men, however, had been kind enough to outline those helpful notes onto the page. Locked doorways and keypads were marked, as was the main desk where she’d have to check in. They’d included a card in the envelope that would gain Callie access first to the building and then into the forensics storage room, but not a script for what to say to the cop at the entrance. There also weren’t instructions for a contingency plan. At least Ford was confident the access card would function. The server room required a six-digit code to enter. They changed it weekly, but supposedly the one on the sheet from the mafia king would work.
The numbers meant nothing to her, though, and her mind didn’t want to commit them to memory. They weren’t from a song and didn’t include any former addresses or lucky numbers. She swiped a hand across her forehead, displeased to discover she’d worked up a sweat like she was back in middle school studying for an American History test.
Memorizing every sequence of numbers in the world wasn’t going to guarantee the job would be a success. The soul part—which she strived to pretend was totally normal and not terrifying—would mask her DNA and fingerprints. Unless she became the first person ever to pull off inconspicuously wearing a black ski mask inside a police station, cameras were going to catch her face. Ford had been confident the soul was necessary. Hopefully her face would blur while she was doubled on souls. She hadn’t heard of that being a thing, but she was only an “insider” on this magic shit for a couple weeks. She had to cross her fingers that’d work, because the chance of spending the next decade in an orange jumpsuit wasn’t calming Callie’s nerves.
Derek didn’t need to know about her camera fears, because then he’d offer to help her. When Derek learned what she’d done to Tess, what it’d taken to get him out of the Charmer’s for the night, he wasn’t going to want to be in any deeper with her. He’d liked that she was morally good, and that couldn’t last when you seared the skin off another person. Best to make her own plans now and save him the additional hurt.
Callie jumped when her phone rang. Nothing said you were definitely, totally ready for a master break-in like being scared of your phone. She silenced the ringer, then answered. “Hello?”
“How’s it going, sis?”
She peeked in on Derek. Once she was confident he was still sleeping, she pulled the door shut and replied in a dark hiss, “Dangerous question, Josh.”
“You’re still going through with it, right?” Panic made him squeaky.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Yes, I’m still going through with it.” Did he think so little of her?
His sigh muffled all other sound on the line. “Good. I mean, thanks.”
“Are you being taken care of?” Concern began to twist in her chest.
“I’m still whole and they’re feeding me. No worries. As long as they get what they want, we’ll both be fine.”
Callie frowned. That didn’t sound like Josh at all. “Are you reading from a script?”
“No, but everyone’s real clear on what needs to happen. I need to know you’re clear, too.”
“Crystal.” Her throat squeezed.
“How’s Mom?” His question startled her.
“Fine. Fucking cat hid in the cupboard again. She wanted you to rescue him.”
“She does better when she’s around family.”
What the hell? He loved laying the bait out for her. “Since when? She’s batshit around me.”
“She isn’t good at expressing it. I’m more like her, you know?” His words underscored the hidden message: but you take care of me.
He did this needling when he wanted guilt hanging like heavy chains around Callie’s neck. “You didn’t call to talk about Mom.”
“I wanted to make sure you were ready for tomorrow. Soon this will be over, and I’ll be back home.”
“And done with that junk?”
“I’m done with all this. But I don’t have a chance unless you hold up your end.”
Alarms flared in her mind, but her mouth didn’t care. “I’m the one who always follows through, Josh. Don’t forget.”
“I’m so much like Mom. I just need to know you have my back.”
An invisible knife cut deep into Callie’s waist. “I’ve always had your back.” She spoke slowly, like it could actually cool her anger. It didn’t work.
“Sure. I’ve just never fucked up this bad.” His nervous laugh did nothing for her.
He wanted to go into the past. She followed him, like always. “I called them on her because she was a danger to me. You were gone.”
“I know,” he said, repeating those placating words. She’d heard them so many times they no longer held any meaning or sincerity.
“Sure.” Child Protective Services had been happy to separate her from her habitually neglectful mother. Her brother hadn’t stepped in after he’d moved out. He’d been busy working or, at least he’d said he was at the time. Later she realized he’d just been getting high. Zara went off the deep end when Josh left. She stole the food Callie brought home and left her alone for weeks. So, yeah, Callie had made an anonymous tip about her mother. Josh had agreed to sign the papers to be her legal guardian. He helped save her from Zara, and let her be an unofficial emancipated minor. He’d kept the secret of how CPS got involved from Zara, but his own guilt over what they’d done sent him begging at their mother’s feet for love (and secretly, forgiveness) every chance he got.
“We’ve got each other’s backs when it’s most important. I know you’ll come through, baby sis. I believe you.”
He was right about that. No matter how much he drove her crazy, Josh would have her back. He simply hadn’t had the capacity to do so lately. Sober Josh, though? He was a man you wanted in your corner. Derek could be friends with Sober Josh. Callie bit her tongue. No need to share that thought with either of them. One step at a time.