Page 61 of Hero's Heart

She slipped her hand into his as they exited the port into the parking lot.

“Please don’t tell me we have to steal another car.”

He chuckled. “How about if we legit rent one? First, let’s get to one more internet café so I can contact Lincoln, let him know we made it, and?—”

His words faded as two sleek black cars and three police vehicles came screeching into view, surrounding them on all sides. Her heart kicked into overdrive. Had the Kozaks’ men found them after all?

She looked to Callum for guidance, expecting him to grab her hand and make a run for it. But he stood perfectly still, resignation etched into the lines of his face.

Confusion swamped her. Why wasn’t he moving?

“I’m sorry, angel,” he said quietly, his voice raw with regret.

Before Sloane could demand an explanation, the cars emptied and familiar faces emerged. Theo and Bear, the men who had assisted in Marissa’s and her rescue, greeted Callum with hearty backslaps and relieved grins. He returned their embraces, but the set of his shoulders betrayed his tension.

And then William Getty climbed out of the lead car, Marissa on his heels. Sloane’s heart plummeted.

No.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when she’d finally found a tiny sliver of happiness.

Her father strode toward her, his expression thunderous. “Get in the car, Sloane. It’s time to go home.” He spared Calluma curt nod. “I’ll take care of compensating Mr. Webb for his services, although I shouldn’t.”

Services. The word echoed in her head, cold and impersonal. As if all she’d ever been to Callum was a job.

“But…”

“You’ll need to give a statement to Interpol,” one of the police officers standing just behind her father said. “Go over everything that has happened.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but her father’s security team was already ushering her toward the waiting car. She craned her neck, desperate for one last glimpse of Callum, for a chance to say goodbye, to tell him how much he meant to her.

But the door slammed shut, and the car peeled away from the curb.

There was nothing Sloane could do but try to blink back her tears.

Chapter 21

Two months later

Callum sat at his desk in his home office, frowning at a petty theft report from earlier in the day. The case—a stolen bike—barely warranted the effort it took to fill out the paperwork. Even so, he approached it methodically, reviewing every detail, ensuring no corner went unchecked.

It was what he did. It waswho he was.

Still, his focus strayed. As it had nearly every damned day since he’d gotten home from Moldova.

A copy of that same art history textbook he and Sloane had read in the safe house caught his attention at the edge of his desk, the cover pristine. He’d had a copy sent to Sloane nearly six weeks ago and had ordered one for himself at the same time.

Hell if he knew why he’d done either. It wasn’t like he was ever going to read that book by himself, and Sloane hadn’t responded to the gift at all. Not that he’d expected her to.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t spoken to her since Barcelona—two full months now.Although he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of her nearly every day. Her image popped up unbidden all the time: smiling at him over her book in the safe house, her dark hair whipping in the wind as they walked through the outdoor market, her sigh of delight as she took a bite of crème brûlée.

Her face—drawn and scared—as they pulled her away from him in Barcelona.

His hand twitched toward his cell phone on the desk. One call or text to Dustin or Lincoln could give him an update, let him know how Sloane was doing. His fingers curled into a fist. No, if she had moved on—and Callum told himself that she had and that it wasgoodthat she had—he’d be damned if he pried into her life like some jealous ex.

She’s fine, Webb.The time together didn’t mean as much to her as it did to you—so what? Fucking grow a pair.

It was better this way. Better that she was moving on with her life and not getting hung up thinking about him, the way he was hung up thinking about her. If no contact meant she was happy, that was enough for him.

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