Page 104 of Callum

Settling against the ground, I check Lachlan is in position on my right before swinging my attention to Maddock. He’s crouched near a felled tree, setting up something that looks like a massive tripod. The comm in my ear crackles softly before Grant’s voice fills my head. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

“Get up.” The snapped words carry through the air, easily heard at the top of the ridge. The voice is clear, and I place it immediately.

Dodge fucking Roman.

Movement on the other side of the trunk catches my attention, and I see a flash of red hair before she disappears again. Dodge must have forced her onto the ground at his feet.

Merrick hums into all our ears, a thoughtful sound that makes me think he doesn’t believe what he’s about to say. “Looks like it’s just Dodge and three lackeys. I count ten for the GiGi’s.”

Lachlan’s reply is immediate, and even though I’m less than a foot away from him, I don’t hear him outside the comm. “If there’s ten GiGi’s, you can bet your ass there’s more Romans.”

“Agreed,” Maddock huffs, his massive body settling against the tree.

Grant is quiet for a moment, most likely scanning the trees and cars for more bodies. “Dead north.”

My gaze swings to the tree line immediately north of us. Sure enough, after several long moments peering through my binoculars, I see a flash of movement on the ground. “They’re not even dressed in black,” Lachlan shakes his head, conveying the disappointment we all feel in the Roman Soldiers.

They’re not very good at being covert.

“I can’t get a count, but there’s a decent amount of them,” Grant sighs into the comms, no doubt calculating how this affects our odds of making it out of this alive.

“You look so surprised, Red.” As if on cue, Dodge’s booming voice drifts through the air again. “Come on, you didn’t really think Callum was going to be able to keep you from me, did you?”

I don’t get the chance to move before Lachlan’s hand is pressing into the center of my back, holding me in place. Rosalind says something, but her voice is too soft to travel this high. Why is she talking so low? Is she hurt? Are the drugs that Ginetta used on her still in her system?

“She’s tied up but appears unharmed.” Grant’s concise answer to the questions running through my mind puts me enough at ease to relax away from Lachlan’s palm again.

Dodge laughs at something, prompting the three men behind him to laugh as well. None of the GiGi’s seem to find any humor in what was said, their stoic faces remaining turned toward Ginetta. She’s standing behind Dodge, leaning against the front of her Jeep. Kyler is sitting on the hood, leaning hard to one side but swinging her legs freely against the grill. Harlowe is crouching at Ginetta’s feet, her body bent over as if she’s in pain.

As if he can read my mind, Lachlan asks, “Any idea why Hunt is hunched over like that?”

“Looks like she’s digging through a bag.”

“Explosives?” Maddock sounds too intrigued by that possibility.

“Doubt it,” Grant mumbles, adding something I can’t understand before snapping, “Keep an eye on her, Lally.”

Lachlan hums an affirmative, adjusting his M16 to look through the aftermarket scope. “Any chance we can get better ears?”

“On it,” Merrick’s soft voice is immediately followed by something being shuffled around behind me. After a few surprisingly loud chirps, our comms fill with the sound of Dodge’s voice.

“I would have thought you learned from the last time you tried to withhold what was rightfully mine, Ginetta.”

Ginetta looks like she would rather stab Dodge through the eye than answer that question, and Rosalind spares her from having to make that decision. “Why did you want me so bad, anyway?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” he sounds almost bored, but I can see the fire in his eyes even from here. “You weren’t on my radar at all until the day I got a call from the great Mingus MacAlister.”

Someone makes a sound like they don’t believe him, and Dodge rounds on the GiGi’s. Before he can say anything, Rosalind speaks up again. “Why would he call you?”

“He needed a favor.” Dodge turns back to face Rosalind, and my heart rate picks up again. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her like she’s something he prizes. “The head of the MacAlisters was calling me for a favor.”

“He’s lying,” Maddock mumbles, an angry lilt to his hushed voice. “Right?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what kind of favor, Red?” Dodge taunts, bending so that his face is inches from Rosalind. I hope she stabs him in the throat. “It’s a great story.”

Lachlan’s laugh is barely audible in the silent forest around us. “Is he about to monologue like a fucking Bond villain?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me whether I want to know or not,” Rosalind snaps. There’s a sound that I’m fairly certain is her spitting in his face, and I feel my chest swell with pride. My kitten has claws, and Dodge would do well to remember that.

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