Page 131 of Call Back

“No, not really. We’ve been working side by side, but not together. You’re hiding things from me.”

“You’re hiding things from me!” It was our same old tune—a sad song we’d written together.

He tried to pull away, but I held tight and refused to let him go. “Then let’s stop hiding things.”

The hard lines around his eyes faded, and he lifted his hand to my face. “Maybe you took it as a joke, Maggie, but I meant what I said. We should take that gold and run. We can leave right now.”

My mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious.” Excitement filled his eyes as he grabbed my upper arms. “We’re good together. We could be happy.”

I could imagine it now. The two of us on a beach somewhere, sucking down tropical drinks and holding hands. Life happy and undemanding and simple. The old me would have jumped on the chance to run away, and that’s how I knew I’d changed. “Not this way, Colt. I can’t leave Momma.”

“She’s already left you.”

His words were like a slap in the face.

He pulled me into a hug and cupped my head, holding me close. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

But it was true, and it hurt like hell.

I still clung to him, refusing to cry. “I can’t leave.”

“I know, Mags. I know.” He lifted my face and kissed me with a tenderness that caught me off guard. When he lifted his head, he searched my eyes. “I have to go.”

“Can I trust you, Colt?”

He didn’t respond. Then he grinned, but it looked forced. “There’s only one person you can truly trust, Magnolia, and that’s you.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Then again, maybe it did.

He kissed me again before he took a step back and dug in his pocket. “Your car’s in the parking garage. I got a friend to help me.” He pulled out my keys and handed them to me. “If you decide to come tonight, let me know as soon as possible.”

“So you can factor it into your plans?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah.” He watched me for a moment and then shoved his hand back into his pocket. “I got you something else.”

He handed me a folded slip of paper. When I opened it, I saw Rowena Rogers’s name along with a Brentwood address and a phone number.

I glanced up at him. “How?”

“One of the perks of who I know.”

Why did I have a feeling that these mystery contacts of his would be more of a threat than I’d expected?

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