Page 61 of Call Back

I wasn’t sure I had another choice. I nodded. “Okay.”

Still holding the side of my head in his palm, he leaned in and placed a quick kiss on my forehead. “Good girl. Be ready to run as fast as you can if I give the word.”

Then he handed me the pocket knife and shouted, “I’m coming out, and I’m unarmed.”

“Then do it!” the man shouted.

Colt crawled on hands and knees. “Don’t shoot.”

“Keep your hands where I can see them!” the man shouted.

It maddened me, but I still couldn’t tell if I recognized his voice.

Colt got to his feet and took a step.

I realized the phone was still in my left hand and the knife was in my right. I put the knife down, swiped at the screen, and opened the camera app with fumbling fingers, turning on the video. I held it out enough to pick up a glimpse of Colt.

“Stop right there!” the man shouted in a raspy voice. “Where’s the gold? The package was empty.”

“I don’t know,” Colt said. “But I know it wasn’t meant for you.”

“Don’t be a smart ass, or I’ll shoot you where you stand! I want that gold bar now!”

Shit. This guy wanted to know the location of the gold, and Colt was clueless. I wasn’t so sure Colt would escape this unscathed.

“I left it there,” Colt said. “My contact must have taken it.”

“I want it!” the man shouted. “And the rest of the gold too.”

“And I want a brand-new Lexus, but we don’t always get what we want.”

A gunshot rang out, and I nearly dropped the phone and screamed. There was the sound of metal hitting metal—the bullet must have ricocheted off the metal floor of the trailer several feet from me. Clapping a hand over my mouth, I turned and tried to peek around the tire to make sure Colt was okay. He was still standing.

“I don’t have the gold,” Colt shouted, sounding panicked. “Stop shooting at the ground!”

The man didn’t answer and there was silence for several moments, long enough to worry me. I peeked through the tires, poking my phone out to capture the guy on video. I wanted confirmation that it was Owen Frasier—and so far I didn’t have it.

The figure stood in front of his car, the headlights on behind him, casting his face in shadows, not that I could see much of his features anyway. He was still wearing that hooded jacket, and the hood was up and over his head. It was impossible to tell who he was. I moved quickly behind the tire, out of sight, but continued to hold up the phone.

“Where’s the gold?” the man shouted.

“It’s hidden.”

“I want it by Saturday night. Or I’ll kill Magnolia. I swear.”

“I’ll get it!” Colt insisted.

“I know you’ll be at the fundraiser Saturday night. Bring it there. I’ll be in touch with instructions.”

“To a masquerade ball?” Colt asked in disbelief. “Am I supposed to show up as King Midas?”

“How you transport it is your problem!” the guy shouted.

It seemed like the bad guy’s problem too—he was going to have to cart it off after Colt delivered it . . . but what was I thinking? Colt couldn’t deliver something he didn’t have.

“Don’t try some bullshit move on Saturday,” the man said. “I won’t be so forgiving next time. In fact, I know Magnolia is hiding underneath that trailer, and I just might take her with me as collateral to prove I’m serious.”

Oh shit.I tried not to panic as I picked up Colt’s knife. Everyone knew better than to bring a knife to a gunfight, but it made me feel better to have some sort of weapon.

---