CALLEN (Second Chance Novels Book 3) (20 page)

I already know, however, that losing Callen isn't a realistic option. Learning how to live with both sides of him is my singular challenge.

CALLEN

Leaving Quinn naked and crying on her bed is a vision I need to box up and deal with later. Betrayal played across her eyes as she understood what I worked so hard to show her. Manipulation wasn't my intent. I only wanted to demonstrate one final time exactly who I am. There is little in me other than the soldier trained to seduce a target into whatever I need him or her to be.
 

I'm a soldier who loves Quinn, but I'm also a soldier who gave himself up for a future with Evvie. I can't be that man again. To move forward, I have to be some combination of the two, and I'm not sure how that will work. All I know is that Quinn deserved to know the truth.
 

That same soldier in me will make her happiness my mission, and will protect her with ferocity. If there's anything else in me, that side will love her with everything left. Either way, she will experience my dedication to her…if she can accept me. This afternoon, I demonstrated that dedication along with the reality of my burdens.
 

I refuse to let my chest tighten at the thought of losing her. I have a single purpose now, and I will not lose focus again. Returning to my house, I shower and throw on a pair of black athletic pants before I sit at the table and start combing through what I know about Spades and his new, twisted profession.
 

My stomach turns as I search payment records, and match them up with suspicious deaths across the country. I confirm at least three victims, all of whom are simple citizens. Spades isn't exacting justice on warlords or evil men capable of wicked deeds. Every kill involves a goddamn paycheck, but also some sort of personal betrayal.
 

A seventeen-year-old was killed in Wisconsin after having been found in a compromising position with his teacher. The teacher's husband blamed the boy, according to the news. The husband was the prime suspect, but he had a rock-solid alibi. No connection to a hit man was ever explored. The markers of Spades' timeline and a detailed look into the husband's financials proved to me the truth. Spades killed a young boy as easily as he strangled an innocent woman.
 

The more I look, the more I see an obvious, deep-seated issue. His status as contract killer casts a shadow of
serial killer
. What the hell happened to him?

Ending his life will break my heart, but the need for justice stands stronger than I realized. I will do what is right. I have a single day to myself before I bring Mason and Riggs into my final decision. Every ounce of me hopes Quinn will understand and come willingly to me when my task is done.
 

My next two hours are occupied by too many thoughts. I focus on my game-face while I worry about Quinn. Yet the strangest realization filters into my head. My rage is pure and white-hot, but Evvie's face has faded. I hate who Spades has become, and I will avenge Evvie's death…but my motivation now lies in finding closure for myself. I find myself wanting to look forward. Quinn is my path, if she's able to have me as the broken man I've become.

I shake my head when I'm at my table. Time to compartmentalize. Evvie occupies a corner of my mind where justice and revenge converge with love and grief. Spades sits in a pit in the center of my thoughts, waiting blindly for execution. My friends have become a hazy blur in my consciousness, and aren't currently a significant part of my world.
 

Quinn has no single space in my consciousness. Rather, I find her resting as the foundation supporting every part of my mind and who I am. I don't know at what point she became my rock. The only exception is this: she is who I am, but not part of what I have to do. The rift in me is deep, leaving me with one choice: I kill Spades, and leave the sum total of my entire life with his body. Perhaps Quinn won't be burdened with two halves of me, but rather
her
half which transforms into the whole. I hope to God I can pull this off. I hope to God that if I do, I can have the life I dare hope for.
 

I take the leap, and allow my brain to kill Spades over and over in my head. Each kill is efficient; each kill delivers justice. Not a single one of them causes guilt. My only question is which form of justice to deliver.

Keeping my focus on Spades' execution, regardless of the consequences, the decision has been made.
 

A knock at my door breaks my train of thought. Mason walks into my house, followed by Riggs. Each wears their mission face. Mason places two sixes of beer in the fridge with a pointed glare. I get it. No alcohol during a strategy session. I would never drink while needing total focus, but the allure of drunken oblivion tugs at me anyway. All my evenings of shots with Shelby taught me that.

For a split second I think of my best friend, but again I file her away for later. My full attention is needed elsewhere.

"Where the fuck is your head?" Mason barks at me as he sees my obvious, temporary distraction.

"Right here," I nearly growl.

"Then stand the fuck up and lead."

My chest hardens at the reminder. "Then sit your ass down and follow."

"Yes, sir," Mason says in stoic approval.
 

Riggs follows Mason's lead, and they both look to me for direction. I return to my mantle and start the conversation.
 

"You've had as much time to think as I have. Tell me where you fall."

"Setting up a scenario of home invasion," Mason says. "We do several break-ins on random people in his neighborhood and steal a few things. We pawn them nearby and get Sofia to 'find' their possessions quickly. As for Spades, we kill him, making his presence look like an unexpected complication. Robbery gone wrong."

"No," Riggs says thoughtfully. "No one would believe any neighborhood thug would be able to kill a man with Spades' background. The investigation would get invasive."

"Not unless we kill him 'asleep on the couch' and orchestrate the scene correctly: tv on, only one or two things stolen...Sofia said she'd help. She can lead them in the direction we want."

"Have you already read her in on this?" I ask in shock and accusation.
 

Mason looks me dead in the eye. "Yes."

"What the HELL?" I shout.
 

My youngest brother stands again and gets directly in my face. "She's my partner as much as you are. Trust and solidarity."

"Sit your ass down," I seethe in his face. Mason glares for another moment, then returns to his seat before I speak again. "Don't fucking loop her in on the details. You should never have put her in that position. Her ignorance of the situation would protect her, which is more goddamn important than the possible need for us to use her help. God damn it, Junior. No more impulsive actions, you understand? That decision should have been made by all of us. You want me to stand up and be your commander again? Then remember your fucking place."

He glares again, but understanding and acceptance filter through his anger. He remembers where he falls on this hierarchy. We all return to mission analysis where I resume my position of leadership again. There is no democracy in this revisited military structure, and this fight is mine to lead either way.

"Home invasion," Mason resubmits as a option.

"None of those," Riggs says efficiently, his determination now obvious. "We go with kidnapping: face to face, brother to former brother. We read him in on the fucking trial we already had, and deliver the goddamn verdict and sentencing."

We all take a moment to process the benefits and risks of that course of action and the strength behind Riggs' words. We've used the strategy before with total success.

"Kidnap," I confirm out loud. "Simple and satisfying."

"We may need to tranq him," Mason says. "He won't go quietly and we can't risk drawing attention."

"Agreed," Riggs nods. "The rest should be easy. No one else around here knows him. His disappearance will go unnoticed. We clear out his apartment. Cancel his lease from his phone. He's erased."

Our decision is interrupted by a knock. I close my eyes and draw an angry breath in through my nose. I clench my jaw and walk to the door.
 

"Quinn."

She doesn't greet me, but rather walks into my living room, bringing tension with her. Her hard glare and clenched jaw clue in my fellow conspirators. They stand immediately.

"Scout locations," I assign, ignoring Quinn's glare for the moment. "Report back tomorrow noon. Here. If Spades calls tonight for drinking buddies, join him and make sure you all have a good time."

Both men stand immediately to begin their assignment, and I watch Quinn as she waits stonily for them to leave. Her arms cross and her jaw clenches tighter.

 
When the door closes, she turns to me and stares me down. Her eyes could pin me to the ground if not for the tension in my own frame.

"I told you I'd come back when it was finished," I glare in return.

"And I didn't get to say a damn thing."

We stare at each other for too long, and neither of us relaxed enough to even take a step. Finally, her voice breaks the strained silence.

"How dare you manipulate me that way," she finally seethes. "I'm not some target. At this point, I'm not sure I'm a woman you love, not if you can so easily treat me like that."

Fury burns in my throat, causing my words to heat my anger to flame. "How dare I?" I nearly shout. I turn away and breathe. My emotions are too close to the surface. "Jesus, Quinn. I don't love you? I showed my
dedication
to you."

Her voice wavers in dark anger and hurt. "Dedication to me? You set half of yourself aside, and shut me out of it."

"I only want you to accept that I have the other side. You don't have to live with it. I compartmentalize the pieces of my life, but I can't eliminate them."

She walks around me to face me, but has yet to touch me. "The walls between those pieces are crumbling," she says with deliberate bluntness. "You're smart enough to see that."

I force a deep breath and try to keep my frustrations out of my logic.

"My walls are just fine, Quinn. You see my darkness right now because you walked into it. I told you I'd come back to be yours, and I will. When you see me again, this will be over."

"Callen," she groans out in frustration. "I'm telling you to stop the compartmentalizing. I don't want some contrived piece of you. I want all of you! What you see as helpful walls, I only see as a maze of chaos in your mind, crumbling and mixing until you're on the edge of breaking. I saw you cry for Christ's sake."

My anger breaks and my body trembles in barely-controlled rage.

"A single moment of weakness," I grit. "Never again."

"You're in denial," she says with a shake of her head. "Too much denial."

"I suppose that makes two of us," I get in her face.

"You don't make any sense!" she says with her hands thrown in the air. "I can't have one side without the other. Now you're telling me you'll come back and all this will be over. Do you think the other side of you will be magically gone? Do you expect to come back all rainbows and daisies?"

I glare, she continues.

"I know you're smarter than that, but you are so far from yourself right now you can't see anything."

I have no words, only a painful tightness in every muscle. Quinn walks for the door and turns back with one more frustrated, angry comment.
 

"Go do what I know you'll do no matter what I say," she grits out. "Come back to me whole...if you ever figure out what that means."

Fuck!

I chase her down and block the way to her car. Her anger has been replaced by tears.

"I can't do this," Quinn whispers.

"Then why did you come?" I ask in frustration. "To talk me out of it? You know better. To vent your anger? Not your style, and you know it's pointless anyway."

We stare at each other for a long, tense moment before she speaks again.

"I want to hold on to what we have," she says with determination. "I'm afraid that when you come back, we'll have nothing left of us."