Page 94 of Any Means Necessary

“Finally found the right one, huh?” Gage’s question is about my choice in tattoo design, but my answer isn’t.

“Definitely the right one.”

Chapter Thirty-Five: Lexie

My hands are too full, so when I reach for the door to Callum’s office, my sketchbook falls to the floor. I sigh, putting down my can of Mountain Dew on the side table nearby and tucking my phone into my bra, before crouching down to start scooping up the loose pages that fluttered across the floor. The sound of Callum and Roscoe’s conversation drifts through the crack in the door.

“—everything’s been handled and cleaned,” Roscoe states. Shoving the papers back into my sketchbook, I can’t help but listen.

“Good,” Callum says. “I won’t pretend that killing those fuckers was for the job. Harris’ check was a bonus. People who sell little girls like that deserve to suffer, they got what was coming to them.”

“It’s too bad there were complications.” Roscoe says gravely, making me pause.

“You think the casualties could have been avoided?”

“No.” Roscoe’s answer has my stomach dropping. “But they were innocent, it could have been different.”

Innocents, as in innocent deaths? Callum went after the men who took Lottie and ended up with casualties. And Senator Harris paid him to do it.

Anger and disbelief bubble up inside me. The hammering in my chest has my fight of flight instincts kicking in. I have to get moving, I can’t stand here and listen to this anymore.

Leaving my sketchbook where it sits on the floor, I straighten my shoulders before pushing through the door.

“How many?” I demand answers. Both men turn to look at me in surprise, but it doesn’t last long. My challenging gaze tells them I heard their conversation.

“Lexie—” I completely ignore Callum, instead turning my demanding gaze to Roscoe.

“How many casualties?” I want answers, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Just two.” Roscoe’s gruff answer isn’t nearly enough, I need details.

“Who?”

“Lexie,” This time it’s Roscoe trying to dissuade me from the topic, making my stomach churn. The fact that he doesn’t want to say it makes me imagine the worst.

“Who?” My voice rises. “Women? Children?” Roscoe’s eyes cut to Callum, asking his boss for permission. Callum gives no indication, simply staring at me with his jaw clenched, hands gripping his desk tightly. The tension in his body has my anxiety rising.

“The girlfriend to one of the men we hit caught a stray bullet.” The knot in my stomach tightens. His voice tells me there’s something else, something he’s not saying.

“And?” I’m already getting emotional, but I’m not letting this go.

“She was seven months pregnant.” Callum’s words hit me like a punch to the stomach, my heart stopping in my chest. I turn my horrified eyes to land on him heavily. Callum gazes back, rigid as a statue.

“The baby?” Despite the nausea clawing at me I have to ask. When he doesn’t answer, the tears prick behind my eyes. “Tell me.”

“He didn’t make it,” Callum replies heavily. The crushing sadness forces the air from my lungs. “They had to deliver him too soon. He only lived for three hours, there was no way he could survive without his mother.”

“You did this?” I ask him.

“It wasn’t part of the plan.”

“You knew it was a possibility, Callum. You never do anything without knowing every single possible outcome.”

“Casualties are always a risk. It’s a cost of doing business. Collateral damage.”

“Are you really trying to justify this to me right now? This wasn’t business.” I spit back. “It was murder. Callous, reckless murder.”

“I don’t have to justify anything to you.” Callum’s voice darkens at the implication. His need for control is twisting into anger and it’s just stoking my own rage. “It’s the reality of the situation. Her boyfriend made some bad decisions, and his family is the price he paid for them. That woman knew who she was sleeping with, and she chose to have a child with him anyway. She decided to take that risk with both of their lives, and it ended up getting her and her baby killed.”

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