Finding Home (Finding Series, Book 1) (12 page)

“Mr. Bale, I understand you’ve had some issues with vandalism on your property in the past couple of years. Why don’t we discuss that on the way to Dr. Meyer’s clinic?”

***

Callan shook the sheriff’s hand and watched him head back towards the police station. The man hadn’t said much other than asking a lot of questions about the incidents that had plagued the ranch for the past two years, but Callan considered it small victory that the new sheriff had at least listened.

Anger and frustration rolled in his stomach as he watched Rhys sign some paperwork and head towards him. The man refused to get out of the funk he was in and it was pissing Callan off like nothing else. They left the clinic and began walking down the sidewalk to where the truck was parked. Rhys walked a step behind him and his shoulders were slumped, his eyes downcast. It was like all the fight had left him.

And Callan was fucking done.

“Fucking son of a bitch,” he said, then grabbed Rhys by the collar of his shirt and slammed him back against the brick wall between the clinic and the hair salon next door. He ignored the women coming out of the salon and covered Rhys’ mouth with his. A gasp sounded behind him, but he was more interested in the man struggling under his hold.

“Callan-” Rhys started to say, but Callan pressed the advantage and thrust his tongue past the other man’s lips. Rhys tried to push him away for a few seconds before he finally submitted and relaxed in Callan’s grip and opened wider. Callan sucked Rhys’ tongue into his own mouth and moaned when Rhys lovingly explored him.

“Oh my,” they heard behind them and Callan finally released Rhys and prepared himself for the next battle. Two women with freshly done hairdos were watching them with their mouths hanging open. One was Mrs. Greene.

“You boys sure do know how to put on a show, Mr. Bale,” Mrs. Greene said with a sly smile. “Evelyn, close your mouth, dear,” she said to her companion. “You look like a fish.” Callan felt Rhys stirring behind him. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she said as she reached her hand around Callan towards Rhys.

“Rhys Tellar,” Rhys managed to get out, though he was still out of breath from their kiss.

“Harriet Greene,” Mrs. Greene said. “This is Evelyn Turner.”

Callan winced as he realized the other woman was a friend of Dolly’s. So much for telling his aunt what he’d done before she heard it from someone else. Not that it mattered since several other people had been witness to his show of rebellion. Some looked flabbergasted, a few curious. Not that it mattered – he was just getting started.

“Would you excuse us, Mrs. Greene? Rhys and I have some errands to run.”

“Of course, dear,” she said with a knowing smile.

Callan grabbed Rhys’ hand and dragged him down the sidewalk.

“What the fuck, Callan?” Rhys said in a low voice as he tried to tug his hand free. Callan came to a wrenching stop.

“You told me to fight for what I want so that’s what I’m doing. Are you going to join me or are you going to keep pretending like what we have doesn’t mean anything?” Callan felt Rhys’ hand tighten in his and then that spark that was Rhys flared to life in his eyes.

“Lead the way,” was all Rhys said.

Rhys didn’t dare speak a word as Callan sped the truck down the county highway back towards the ranch. He wasn’t sure what had lit a fire under the man’s ass, but watching Callan demolish his way through town had been almost as much fun as getting his brains fucked out this morning. And it had started with the two pricks in uniform at the police station. They’d enjoyed knowing they had complete control over Rhys and there was not a fucking thing he could have done about it.

He hadn’t initially noticed the men slip up in regards to knowing about the cut fence, but he was glad Callan had picked up on it because his chances of walking out of that police station with a drug test that hadn’t been tampered with were zero to none. Those so called officers of the law had been looking for any excuse to put him behind bars and he shuddered to think how close they’d come to succeeding.

After kissing the shit out of him in front of God and everyone, Callan had proceed to drag him to every establishment that had rejected Finn and tried to decimate Callan’s business. He held Rhys’ hand through the whole thing and had even kissed him on more than one occasion when he thought people might need a visual that Callan really was an out and proud, rainbow flag-carrying homo who’d managed to infiltrate their ranks for years. And thanks to Callan, Rhys had finally managed to get the cowboy hat he’d been wanting since the clerk at the feed store was too overcome with shock at seeing two men kissing in front of him to nix the purchase.

Rhys could tell something was still driving Callan and he guessed what it was. But it wasn’t until Callan veered the truck onto the short, gravel driveway of Dane’s property that he was sure and hope flared in him. Callan slammed on the brakes in front of the half torn down barn and two shirtless men looked up from their work. Rhys only had eyes for Finn as he climbed out of the truck and leaned back against the door to watch the show. Dane seemed to know something was up and stepped away from Finn.

“Cal?” Finn asked as Callan approached him. His eyes shot to Rhys in confusion, but before he could say anything Callan was on him and kissing the shit out of him. Rhys knew that kissing an angry Callan was like kissing a live wire so it was no surprise when Finn dropped the hammer he’d been holding and wrapped his arms around Callan. Lust sparked through Rhys at the sight and he hoped for one more miracle today.

Callan released Finn and stepped back. “I’ve done everything wrong, Finn. From day one. It was the only way I knew how to be with you and still be worthy of you. But I see now that I never really was.”

Rhys stiffened when Callan pointed to him. “But he is. He has fought at your side from the day he came into our lives, Finn. Don’t blame him for something I did. Don’t punish him because I was weak.”

Callan grabbed Finn by the neck. “I’m done standing in front of you instead of beside you and I’m done hiding behind promises I can’t keep. I betrayed your trust, but if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. I love you and I want you to come home where you belong. But I love him too,” Callan said, again looking at Rhys and Rhys felt his whole body go numb at the admission. “I won’t choose between you so if you come home, you come home to both of us.”

Rhys watched Callan kiss Finn again, this time soft and slow and deep and Rhys knew Callan was thinking it could be for the last time. Callan dropped his hands from Finn, spun on his heel and turned back towards the truck. He didn’t go to the driver’s side though. He stopped in front of Rhys and grabbed him the same way he had Finn. “I love you, Rhys, but I need you to decide if you want to go home to Chicago or if you’re already home.” Callan kissed him in the same, reverent way he’d kissed Finn, then let him go.

Rhys grabbed his arm before he could walk away. “Let’s go home, Callan,” he said simply and Callan’s eyes softened and he nodded. “Love you,” Rhys said as he gave Callan a quick kiss. As Callan walked around the truck to the driver’s side, Rhys turned to look at Finn who was standing shell-shocked in the same exact spot Callan had left him in. It was too hard to say any words and Rhys knew if he touched Finn he might not be able to let him go, so he climbed up in the truck next to Callan and forced his eyes forward as Callan turned the truck around and headed home.

***

Three fucking days. Three days and not one word from Finn.

“Rhys, do it somewhere else,” Callan said from inside the arena. The white horse that the rescue group had dropped off a couple of days ago was pressed up against the wooden fence, trying to get as far away from Callan as he could. A myriad of scars ran the length of the animal’s coat.

“Do what somewhere else?” Rhys muttered from where he stood leaning against the outside of the round enclosure.

“Have your little freak out moment. He can sense your anxiety,” Callan said quietly as he patiently waited the horse out.

Callan was right of course, but he knew the other man wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed. There was a weariness in Callan that hadn’t been there before and his lovemaking every night was borderline frantic. Rhys knew it was because Callan was expecting him to walk away too - to make that phone call to Frank saying he needed a new job. But the instant Callan had told him he’d loved him, everything had changed for Rhys. He still had a few friends on the force so his plan was to keep pushing for the truth about Tom to come out, but he wasn’t willing to throw away a life with Callan to satisfy his lust for vengeance. There would be a day when Tom double-crossed the wrong person and wouldn’t be able to walk away from it.

“Rhys?”

Rhys realized he’d gotten lost in thought before responding to Callan and now the other man was watching him with concern. His stomach did a little flip-flop, but he waved Callan off and said, “I’m okay. I’ll start bringing the horses in.” Callan watched him a moment longer, then nodded and returned his attention back to the horse.

Twenty minutes later Rhys was helping Callan corral the horse into his stall. Since the animal hated being touched, Callan had set a couple of stock guard gates between the barn and the arena to allow the horse to make his way into the barn on his own. The barriers kept the animal from taking off, but meant that Callan didn’t have to traumatize the horse by roping him or using crueler methods to control the animal.

“Slow going,” Rhys said as Callan slid the stall door closed and watched the animal pace back and forth in agitation.

“Someone really did a number on him,” Callan said sadly. Before Rhys could say anything else or do what he really wanted to do which was kiss the shit out of Callan, a car approached and they both tensed and hurried to the barn door.

“Fuck,” Rhys said softly when he recognized Wendy’s little sedan rolling up and the disappointment flooded through him.

Callan grabbed him by the shoulder. “It was a lot to ask of him, Rhys. Maybe too much,” he sighed. “But you could still try…maybe you guys could-”

“If you finish that sentence I swear I will beat the ever loving shit out of you!” Rhys nearly snarled as he grabbed Callan’s neck. “He’s going to come home,” Rhys whispered, then ghosted a kiss over Callan’s lips. “And we’re going to figure out how to make this work.” Callan grabbed his wrist and nodded, then kissed him back.

“Um, Mr. Bale?” Wendy said with a cough.

Rhys smothered a laugh as he realized he and Callan had completely forgotten about Wendy’s arrival. They both turned to see her shifting nervously behind them, a blush on her cheeks.

“Sorry Wendy,” Rhys started to say, but Wendy cut him off.

“Are you kidding me? That was so hot!” The second the words were out of her mouth she slapped a hand over it as she realized what she’d said. “Oh my God,” she stuttered and Callan and Rhys both laughed as she closed her eyes in embarrassment. “I brought King some carrots,” she choked out as she held up the carrots as if to prove why she was there.

“He’s in his stall,” Callan said with a chuckle as Wendy darted past him. “We’ll be up at the house if you need anything,” he called over his shoulder.

“Okay,” came the response.

Rhys let Callan take his hand as they headed to the house Rhys had essentially moved into. Once Finn came back it would be tight quarters in the small foreman’s house, but Rhys could only see that as being a good thing.

“How’s your dad today?” he asked Callan.

Callan’s hand tightened in his. “Same. Didn’t recognize me at all.” Rhys knew it was a painful topic for Callan and didn’t press him.

“My turn to cook, right?” Rhys began to say, then let his words fall off when they heard the sound of another car coming up the road. They were closer to Callan’s house than to the barn and whoever was driving the shiny, black luxury car seemed to notice because the car bypassed the barn and pulled to a stop near them. They both tensed, but Callan refused to release his hand when Rhys tried to step in front of him.

The door opened and a tall, well-built man with thick, slightly too long, coal black hair got out. If the car didn’t already signify this guy was from out of town, his black, sleek slacks and crisp white dress shirt did for sure. Black sunglasses hid his eyes, but the only thing that had Rhys’ full attention was the shoulder holster the guy was wearing over his shirt, putting the two black Glock pistols he had on him within easy reach.

“Hotter than hell out here,” the guy muttered as he began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal tanned, muscular forearms. The sunglasses came off and if Rhys hadn’t been on high alert, he would have taken the time to admire how good looking the man was.

“Can we help you?” he heard Callan say, the stiffness in his voice clear. Fear went through Rhys as he realized he and Callan had no way to defend themselves. The only weapon on the property was the rifle Callan used when he went out to check the fences and that was locked up in the tack room in the barn.

“I’m here to have a little word with Mr. Tellar.” The tone was casual, but the man’s predatory stance and shifting eyes made it clear this was not a man to fuck with or underestimate. Rhys ripped his hand free of Callan and stepped away from him. If this guy was coming after him, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Callan be in the line of fire.

The man appeared to notice the move, but didn’t react. He also didn’t respond when Callan stepped back to Rhys’ side and grabbed his hand again.

“You can relax Mr. Bale, I’m just here to talk to him,” the guy said finally with a sigh.

“So talk,” Callan responded crisply.

“Mr. Tellar, my name is Jaxon Reid. Ben Reid was my brother.”

***

Callan heard Rhys suck in a sharp breath and he turned to see that his lover had gone pale at the name.

“Rhys,” Callan said, jerking on Rhys’ hand to get his attention. He needed to know if this stranger was a threat to them and right now he was completely clueless. Rhys clearly had some association to him, but the guns the man was sporting like they were an extension of his body weren’t reassuring. Rhys didn’t answer him. He just continued to stare at the other man, completely at a loss for words.

“Rhys!” Callan said sharply and Rhys finally turned to look at him.

“Ben Reid was one of the men on the protective detail for my CI,” Rhys managed to get out.

Callan stiffened as he remembered the story Rhys had shared with him just a couple of nights ago. Frank hadn’t gone into details about Rhys’ past when he’d asked Callan to take him on and Callan hadn’t wanted to press Rhys to talk about it before he was ready. They’d only discussed it the other night because Rhys had mentioned wanting to return to Chicago after his parole ended so he could try to make some headway on the case that had sent him to prison. The case that had cost the man in front of them his brother.

“Mr. Reid,” Rhys started to say, but then stopped, unable to get anything else out.

Angry at seeing the man he loved being put through this, Callan did what his instincts had been telling him to from the moment the car pulled up and pushed Rhys behind him. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Reid, but Rhys isn’t responsible.”

“Yes, I am,” Rhys said softly. “It’s my fault.”

“Rhys,” Callan started, but Rhys put a hand on his arm and then moved past him to stand in front of the still quiet Jaxon Reid.

“I trusted someone I shouldn’t have and it cost your brother his life. I’m sorry. If I could change it, I would. I didn’t know Ben very well, but he seemed like a really good man.” Callan hated hearing the pain radiate through Rhys’ voice and he hated the man standing across from him even more because the fucker hadn’t said one word while he stood there, his arms folded insolently as he looked down on Rhys as if standing in judgement of him.

Callan started to step forward with the intent to physically get this man off his land, but he must have sensed that was the case because he put his hand up and said, “Take it easy, Mr. Bale. As I said before, I’m only here to talk.” His eyes focused on Rhys.

“Tom Rawlings is dead,” Jaxon announced without reservation, his tone flat.

***

Rhys shook his head in disbelief, but couldn’t find the words to ask the obvious question.

“How?” Callan asked for him.

“ME’s report says self-inflicted gunshot wound,” Jaxon said.

“Bullshit,” Rhys heard himself saying. “Fucker was too in love with himself to blow his brains out.”