“Avoid Adam.” Her words were a command.
“You’re overreacting—”
“Josh! Look at me. Adam was the bagman for the ransom that got us Mom back. He knew what they had done to her, and was fine with it.”
Josh flicked his cigarette out into the snow. “Naw. He probably didn’t know it was our mom. He probably thought it was some smack or meth.”
“He handed me Mom’s bloody shirt, Josh. He smiled when he did it. He fucking knew.”
Josh paled. Good.
“Please promise me you’ll keep as far away from him as possible.” Please please please.
He ducked his head for a moment. His lips were pursed. When he met her gaze again, he said, “I’m all about a low profile these days. No need to catch his attention.”
“Smart man,” Derek said with the right amount of approval to earn a half smile from Josh.
Callie hugged her brother again, quickly, but didn’t say anything. The problem with being from a family of conmen and thieves? Your family will always know when you’re lying. Josh hurried back toward the hospital and Zara in her critical condition, and Callie tried not to worry about what would happen when he next saw Adam.
Once her brother was back in the building, Callie and Derek left the hospital. No one followed them. Derek drove Callie to her car, and then he followed her back to his place.
The bougainvillea beside his front door had already lost its beautiful fuchsia petals. Now, beneath the yellow glow from the lone bulb out front, the branches bent and bowed beneath the increasing weight of the snow. Callie gave the bush a nudge with her toe to shake the worst of the snow away, and hoped the little plant would make it through the winter to blossom again. Derek unlocked the front door, and ushered her inside.
Warm, dry air welcomed them into his townhome. Callie took off her coat and laid it over the back of the couch.
“You want a drink?” Derek asked. He dropped his jacket over the back of a barstool.
Callie walked around to the front of the sofa. It was low and square. The modern styling looked stiff, but she’d found it was the right amount of plush. She sunk into corner seat. Her elbow rested on the back, and she propped her chin on her hand.
The long look she gave Derek must have been an answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” There was no judgment from Derek.
He poured a screwdriver, and brought it to her. “Figured you could use the Vitamin C.”
Callie smiled, and her cheeks stung. She didn’t know if the sharp pain was from the chap of wind, the ice of magic, or not eating much for days. At this point, it didn’t matter the source.
“Thanks,” she said before taking a sip. The drink was bright and boozy.
He sat next to her, and sipped his drink. When Derek’s eyes closed, she could see the worry cutting around his eyes and tugging his shoulders together. She understood. Fatigue weighed her muscles until every movement felt like an underwater battle. The aching tension in her calves was undeniable and more than just a potassium deficiency. Everything hurt, but at least she wasn’t broken. This was temporary.
She sat up a little straighter, and extended her arm until her hand cupped the back of his neck. Derek’s warm chuff only encouraged her. She pressed and rolled her fingers against the steel rods he had for tendons. She nudged and soothed and as the minutes ticked by his shoulders began to ease down and his head started to tilt back. She doubted she could relax, but it eased her heart to be able to give him some respite.
Callie took another sip of her vodka and OJ. It was heavy enough on the former to burn her throat.
Derek’s eyes were still closed when he asked, “You want me to build a fire?”
“I’m good.”
“I know.” He opened his eyes. “You also need to sleep.”
He wasn’t wrong. “You do, too.”
He nudged the bottom of her glass with his knuckle. “Finish up.”
She knocked the drink back, and let the bite remind her she had survived the day. Derek finished his own drink, and then in a quick motion stood and scooped Callie up in his arms.
“Totally not necessary.” Her protest was half-assed.
“You need rest, doll. I am to see you finally get it.”
The liquor softened her head and Derek did the same to her heart.
“Fine.”
Callie was asleep before Derek even climbed into the bed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The pale glow of daylight brightened Derek’s bedroom. Callie rolled over to put the curtained window at her back. Her head throbbed. If the sun had already crested the house to make it to the back window, even the grey fabric Derek had hung over the window couldn’t buy her more time.
The bed sagged on her side. “Callie?” Derek’s sour tone didn’t match his sleep-smashed hair.
Callie brushed her fingertips over his locks. The short strands were soft, and she smoothed them back. “Hmm?”
“I hate to wake you, doll—”
“Then don’t. Climb back in with me. Our problems can wait a few more hours.” Sleep was good on her. The playful tone in her voice was off from disuse, but she aimed to fix that.
She tugged Derek down, and then arched up to meet him. Her breasts grazed his chest, and his groan was a
