Page 4 of Callahan's Haven

“No way,” Garrett interrupted, shaking his head.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Declan said with a scowl.

Solace chimed in with, “I can’t believe you’d even think it.”

“Okay. Okay,” Cal said, raising his hands.

Solace took a step toward him. “You know we’re—”

“Fucking idiots is what you are,” Celeski called out.

Cal wasted a look at Celeski. “We’re going straight to Central Command and General Younces with her.” He turned back to his crew. “We all have the same story.” He glanced at their captive. “Who knows, maybe ourguesthere might have a word or two to say. If not, her face tells its own story.” He gave the table and the men shackled to it a final glance. “We’ll send someone.”

Cal followed his team and their captive up the stairs while the major’s men shouted obscenities and Celeski threw verbal darts at their retreating backs. “Your hands are just as dirty now. Just like Whitman wanted.”

Cal frowned but kept going. Celeski’s laughter followed him to the top of the stairs, his final words echoing in Cal’s ears as he shut the basement door behind him.

“Just wait. You’re finished. You and your whole team!”

2

Three yearsand two months later.

Haven Sheppard pulled her VW Bug to a stop at the top of the rise overlooking the small valley near Williamsburg, Virginia and let it idle. Her sigh of satisfaction filled the confines of her car as she soaked in the picturesque scene—the towering Compton oaks bursting with vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges, the winding creek running between them, and finally the white reclaimed farmhouse with black shutters and red front door.

Home.

Her mom had spent years using her expertise in architecture and design to transform the original house into the sprawling home it was today, with seamless additions to the main structure and renovations inside that could have easily filled a spread in any of the home and garden magazines Sheppard Innovations had been featured in.

Best of all, it had been apermanenthome.

Her dad had been a Marine, and life in the Corps could be hard on families—never knowing from one year to the next where you’d be stationed, building new relationships and friendships, finding a place to fit in over and over.

But Duncan and Patsy Sheppard hadn’t wanted that for their only child. They’d wanted her to have as normal an upbringing as possible. So, they’d purchased this property two-and-a-half hours from the Capitol where her father returned after each deployment.

She smiled thinking back to all the video chats with her dad in undisclosed locations, posing for pictures her mom had insisted on taking of Haven doingeverything, and hour upon hour of video recordings just so her dad didn’t miss out on anything.

At the time, Haven had taken it all for granted, not realizing exactly how much of a sacrifice her parents were making or how precious the time was when they were together.

They’d been wonderful parents who’d attempted to give her what they’d felt was the perfect childhood. And it had been until…

Haven closed her eyes and tried to still her trembling lips. It had all come crashing down in February of her junior year of high school. What had begun a few months earlier with her mom’s clothes starting to bag on her curvy frame had progressed to lethargy she just couldn’t shake. Her dad had finally convinced her go to the doctor when the nagging cough that had been plaguing her for weeks refused to go away.

“It’s just allergies,” she’d insisted but had reluctantly followed her husband’s insistence.

The prognosis they’d received within a few days had been devastating—non-small cell lung cancer—a rare diagnosis for someone who had never smoked a day in her life. She’d been given less than a year to live.

Her dad had taken early retirement immediately and come home.

They’d filled the next nine months by spending as much time together as they could, with the last few weeks finding her mom too weak most days to do much more than get up for a few hours from the hospital bed her dad had set up downstairs.

But one Saturday morning in mid-November, her mom had awoken early and roused Haven and her dad, determined she wanted a fun day out together as a family. She had been so full of life—almost like before the cancer had taken its toll on her body.

So, for thirteen glorious hours, they’d forgotten about cancer, and treatments, and the sense of dread that had hovered over them.

They’d gone to her mom’s favorite restaurant for pancakes—something she’d insisted on even though she could only take a few tentative bites—then driven through the mountains to enjoy the last of the fall colors before stopping at a local nursery on their way home.

Haven opened her stinging eyes and let them wander to the dogwood they’d dubbed their Four O’clock Tree at the front of the house. Her mom had been set on finding a dogwood with deep pink blossoms and had spotted theperfectone sitting all by itself right away. Her mom had smiled over at her dad who was eyeing the pitiful little tree with a doubtful expression—one Haven had been sure matched her own.

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