Page 65 of Call Back

“You. I want to see when you showed up.” As if on cue, I appeared on the screen, scooting backward out from underneath the trailer. He stopped the video, then let it play normal time. “What gave you the idea to hide under there?” he asked.

“I heard the car and knew I had to take cover.”

“He could have killed you, Magnolia.” Colt sounded pissed again.

“We’ve already established that, but from here on out, you can’t exclude me from your sting operations.”

“Why would I include you?” he asked in disbelief. “There was absolutely no reason for you to be there tonight. Hell, the only reason I came was to verify that he showed up and capture him on video.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t have gone out when he came back?”

“Hell, no. I’m not an idiot. I would have let him spout off and hopefully incriminate himself—or at least give me something I could use.”

“So I risked your life,” I said as horror washed through me. “It’s my fault he made that ultimatum.”

He sighed and slumped back into the seat. “I understand why you did it. Hell, I would have done the same thing in your shoes, but I didn’t tell you what I was doing for this very reason. I didn’t want you to put yourself at risk. But from now on out, I’ll tell you what I can.”

“What you can?” I asked in disbelief, jerking my hand from his. “Why not everything?” Then it hit me. “You’re not just doing this for me. I don’t think you’re even doing it for the gold, but it’s sure a nice bonus. What are you up to? Really?”

He remained silent.

All my insecurities came to roost. Men had always used me and then tossed me aside. I couldn’t ignore that most of them had been like Colt—womanizers. But I’d considered Colt a friend, my first real male friend, and I hadn’t expected this from him. Then it occurred to me, once again, that Colt didn’t have friendships with women. Shoot, even Belinda had pointed that out. The truth was hitting me square in the face, and I was hurt and embarrassed. “You’re using me.”

He remained silent, confirming my fears. I reached for the door handle, but he leaned over and gently grabbed my hand. “Maggie, stop.”

I did as he said, mostly because I couldn’t believe he wasn’t really my friend. Right or wrong, I’d grown to count on him. I wasn’t sure I could endure losing him right now. “I want the truth. Are you using me?”

“I know it looks that way.”

No admission of guilt, but no denial either. My wounded pride turned to anger. “For how long?”

He looked out the windshield.

Colt was the person whom I had trusted and confided in the most in all of this. I couldn’t do this alone, and I sure couldn’t handle his betrayal. “Was any of it real?” I asked through tears that clogged my throat.

“Maggie.” He choked on my name.

“You’re not even going to tell me how you’re using me or how long you’ve been doing it?” I shook my head. “Scrap that. I know how long. I’m not stupid. You started using me the night we met at Luke Powell’s.”

“I’m your friend. I swear.”

“But you won’t deny you’re using me?”

“I promise you that it’s not like it sounds.”

“It sounds pretty bad, Colt.”

He turned to me. “I know.”

“You just begged me to trust you, only to admit you’re using me. Why the hell should I trust you?”

Something shifted in him—the expression on his face shuttered, and when he spoke, he sounded unlike himself. “I got caught up in something years ago, and I’m still paying for it.”

“Your record?”

He didn’t answer, but I could read between the lines.

“You’re not even going to lie and come up with some bullshit answer to smooth this over?”

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