I wince, recalling his tale of the brutal thug who was responsible for sending him into the ER the day I first laid eyes on him. “I really wish you hadn’t told me that. Did you at least catch the two you were chasing?”
“Yeah, they’re cuffed up in the parking lot back there.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder toward the lot half a block down Little Raven Street. “And since Booth’s out of commission, I need to head down to HQ to do whatever paperwork they need done. I doubt they’ll let me interrogate them, though.”
Nina trots up then and waves to catch my attention. “I’m going with him to the hospital. Are you guys coming?”
I glance between them and shake my head. “I’m going with Mason to the DEA Division office. We’ll come to you after, okay? Just text me where.” I release Mason long enough to give my friend a tight hug, then watch as she disappears into the ambulance and it makes a slow crawl out of the park and onto the street.
“You should go home,” he says.
“Not a chance. I was a witness, right? I’m going with you. Besides, if you caught those guys, it’ll take time before their boss finds out. DEA Headquarters is probably the safest place to be.” Even if it will hurt to set foot within those walls again for the first time since Chris died.
Mason’s knuckles crack when he clenches his fists and I sense an argument coming. “Callie . . .”
I cross my arms and stare him down. In a voice tight with anger, I say, “I’m not leaving your side until I have to fly back to LA. The last time I let you out of my sight after a shooting, you died.” The fact that he didn’t really die is beside the point.
He sighs, but relents and reaches out a hand, squeezing gently when I take it and we start toward the car. Despite his objections, all I sense from him is relief, and I’m glad I didn’t back down.
25 Mason
We climb into the back seat of the black sedan driven by two of the agents on my detail. Another car carrying Gustavo’s pair of lackeys is already ahead of us, on its way to DEA headquarters.
It still takes several minutes of riding in silence for the urge to argue with her abates. I want Callie as far away from me as possible. I was reckless; she could’ve been shot. It could’ve been so much worse, and there’s no guarantee it won’t get worse still before this is done.
When she squeezes my hand again and peers over at me with a soft smile, the gesture infuses me with the first glimmer of calm I’ve had since I caught sight of the first man coming at us with a gun. After ensuring she was whole, I went after both men at a dead run, chasing them out of the park and down along the riverbank until they wound up cornered against a locked culvert grate.
The two agents trailing after me grabbed one man while I tackled the other, nailing him with my fists until one of the agents had to pull me off. But not before he revealed how much Gustavo was willing to pay the man who delivered my head. Enough that they wouldn’t stop coming unless I did something about it soon.
I hold tight to Callie’s hand and lift it to my lips, kissing the soft skin on the ridge of her knuckles. When I pull back, I see the streaks of blood on her fingers and grimace.
“I need this to be over before anyone else gets hurt,” I say. “It could be you next, Callie. I can’t deal with it if it’s you.”
“What if it’s you?” she asks in a shrill voice. “What if we part ways and they get you? Did you think about what that would do to me? I didn’t even know you the first time and I was a headcase for weeks. Losing you after this weekend would devastate me.”
The rawness of her voice is like a punch in the gut. It never occurred to me what the people I left behind had gone through when they believed I died. Only a few knew I wasn’t really dead, but it was enough for me to pretend it wasn’t real for everyone else. But the fact is I’m not invincible. I managed to survive before, but I may not be that lucky next time.
The idea of leaving her to deal with that rocks me so far off my axis I nearly break. I haul her close and wrap both arms around her, shoving her fleece hat off to bury my face against her messy hair. “I’ll do my best not to let that happen, but you have to trust me. I’m a survivor.”
She sniffles and nods, then heaves a long breath and pulls away, looking into my eyes. Her pale blue ones are glassy, and she forces a small smile. “I am aware. I actually saw the damage that bullet did to your insides. It wouldn’t have been a hard sell to believe you died three years ago if I hadn’t looked into your eyes when you came out of surgery. You didn’t look like a man with one foot in the grave.”
I lift an eyebrow. “What did I look like?”
Softly, she snorts. “Like a guy hoping to get lucky. I liked that brash attitude in the face of death. I like everything that goes along with it, now that I know you better.”
“Well, the feeling’s mutual. And in the interest of complete honesty, I’d have been happy with a date. I just liked seeing your smile. The nurses Flores
