Werner slipped into the driver’s seat. Thorpe folded his tall frame in on the other side, sliding to the middle of the bench seat. His knees damn near folded against his chest. He had nowhere else to put them.
Looking like he’d rather eat dirt, Sean climbed in beside him until they sat with their broad shoulders squeezed together and their thighs pressed close. He pretended like Thorpe didn’t exist and put her backpack on the floorboard between his feet, then reached down a hand to help her. “Come up. Sit on my lap.”
She braced her foot on the running board and climbed in, doing her best to perch on Sean’s thighs. Curling up against his chest, she found her senses pelted by the two men she loved. Their scents blended, the press of their bodies quickly warming the cab on this chilly morning. She’d missed that so much as she’d tried to sleep last night.
Callie wondered if this was the last time she’d feel remotely whole.
As soon as Sean managed to shut the passenger door, Werner took off, driving into the glorious sunrise spreading across the Nevada desert. It looked expansive and calm. Best of all, there was no way anyone could follow them clandestinely out here, in the middle of nowhere. There was no place to hide. So Callie tried to sink into the moment and push all the angst and worry aside. None of it would help her today. But it kept crowding in. By the time she laid her head down tonight to sleep, everything would likely be different.
Or she’d be dead.
“Elijah says his Jeep is still at the Walmart,” Thorpe offered. “He was waiting for his wife to return before he went out there, and that won’t be for another few days. He says its ours for the duration if we need it.”
Sean didn’t say a word, just nodded. She really wished he wouldn’t be so angry, and she suspected it wasn’t totally about Thorpe hurting her. He’d been hurt, too.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Least I could do,” Thorpe answered with a wealth of meaning behind his words.
The rest of the drive was silent. Traffic was minimal this early in the morning. Soon, the roads would be hopping with commuters, but for now, they reached the big-box chain store with barely a stoplight to obstruct them.
Once in the parking lot, they fished the keys from the magnetic holder behind the wheel well and shoved most of their bags from the truck into the back of the Jeep. Sean jumped in the driver’s seat, watching the parking lot all around them for any activity. But it was dead empty, save for a few employees. Callie gestured Thorpe to the front, then crawled in the back with her pack, wishing she could curl up and sleep. She hadn’t all last night, even when Sean had drifted off with his arms around her protectively. She’d missed having the other half of her soul beside her.
What she wouldn’t give for everything to be different with Thorpe and for today to turn out right . . .
Sean looked at her in the backseat. “I’m hoping we can drive straight to the field office here and walk you in to see the SAC.”
“SAC?” she asked.
“Special Agent in Charge. Once we do that, we’ll call back to the Dallas office and—”
Thorpe’s phone rang. They all froze. No one calling him at six-thirty in the morning was going to be trying to reach him for a friendly chat.
“Who is it?” Sean barked.
“Logan.”
“Put him on speaker.”
Thorpe frowned, then did what Sean demanded. “Hey, man. What you got?”
“A little more information, and none of it gives me a warm fuzzy. Elijah was finally able to send me a security image of the dude trolling for Callie at the airport . . . How is she, by the way?”
She smiled. Callie knew firsthand that Logan packed a hell of a wallop when he spanked a girl’s ass, but he had also proven to be a friend through and through. “I’m fine. Thanks. You and Tara?”
“All good. Don’t worry about us. The guy at the airport, hun? His name is James Whitney. Does that ring a bell?”
“Not at all.” She’d never heard it in her life. “Should it?”
“I wasn’t sure. Tara did some digging, but is having a tough time finding much. He’s twenty-nine and from some little-ass town in Alabama. An Iraq War vet. He came home to find his wife and kid had left. Between his PTSD and his antigovernment ravings, most of his neighbors thought he was a loose cannon. He was arrested for drunk and disorderly and unlawful possession of a handgun, but the charges didn’t stick. About three years ago, he dropped off the grid. There are rumors that he’s joined some group of mercenaries. That’s all I’ve got now. But there’s something here. I can feel it.”
Callie drew in a deep breath. Why would this James Whitney want anything to do with her? He had barely been much older than her when her family had been killed. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t, either. But there’s an answer here. We’ll keep looking. Do you need anything else?”
“No, thanks.” There was nothing Logan could do for her from Lafayette.
“I do, Edgington,” Sean spoke up. “Sean Mackenzie here.”
“Name it.”
“If my sub ever comes to you again wanting to disappear, politely refer her back to me.”
Logan cleared his throat. “I was trying to help. I didn’t have all the info. Sorry, man.”
With that, they ended the call. Sean drove northeast as Callie tried not to nibble on a ragged nail and imagine the worst.
“There are a million pieces to this puzzle and I don’t get it,” she said finally, her voice tight with encroaching panic.
“I don’t know why this Whitney character would be hunting you down in the Vegas airport. But if he was wearing the same uniform as the older man who came to your house just before your father’s murder, they might be in league together,” Sean mused. “After all, Werner just said that two uniforms visited him, one old, one young.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Thorpe popped in. “And if they’re related to some sort of mercenary group, maybe they wanted Aslanov’s research to make themselves better or something like that.”
Yeah, that made sense in a warped way. “But to kill innocent men, women, and children?”
“Greed does strange things to people, lovely,” Sean pointed out. “I’ve been a criminal investigator for a decade. I’ve seen some terrible instances of that.”