Page 43 of Callahan's Haven

“Do you know how expensive it is to keep a wifeanda twenty-something-year-old mistress happy?” He snickered. “It takes more money than a Colonel makes, I’ll tell you that. Especially one in forced retirement.” He sat back. “And since said mistress has tastes that run to, let’s just say, the extreme when it comes to the finer things in life, I’ve had to do what I’ve had to do.”

“So, let me get this straight.” This was unbelievable. “You got in bed with the Turks in the province so you could keep getting your dick wet from some young wh—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Whitman waved a finger at him. “Let’s watch what we say, especially after what your daughter was up to a few hours ago with her bodyguard.”

Duncan flushed with heat. Haven was an adult, but it didn’t mean he wanted to hear about her sex life. He searched his feelings about knowing Cal was with his daughter, but he felt no animosity toward the other man. If anything, it gave him a sense of peace knowing she would have someone after he was gone.

Cal had just better make and keep his daughter happy or he’d find a way to come back and haunt his ass.

“But why bring my daughter into this at all?”

Whitman’s cellphone dinged on the low table beside his seat. He picked it up while skewering Duncan with a hate-filled gaze. “It was the only way to get you to do what needs to be done. Not to mention the fact I’m gaining some amount of pleasure knowing you’ll be branded an assassin and traitor.” Whitman said the last with a slow grin before shaking his head. “Too bad about her lover though.”

They killed Cal…

“We’ll be landing soon, and the summit starts in a little over an hour. We expect you to finish your task.” Whitman checked his phone and swiped the screen before raising his sneering smile at Duncan. “And since you decided to go against our rules,” he said, turning it toward him, “perhaps this will give you some added incentive.”

Duncan tensed, his heart stuttering before glaring back at Whitman. “How am I doing this?”

13

“Ohhh…”

God, my head…my arm…

Haven slowly opened her eyes to a darkened room.

“What?” She peered into the shadows and ignored the pain pounding against her skull, gasping when she attempted to move her arms and legs and couldn’t budge them.

“Where the hell am I?” she whispered while struggling to loosen the hard ties binding her to the solid chair she was sitting in. It was no use. She was only hurting herself. She took another look around. More of the room was coming into focus, but none of the vague shapes looked familiar. She took a deep breath of the stale air with a hint of disinfectant, leading her to believe she was in some kind of utility room.

How had she gotten here? If someone was playing a joke, it wasn’t a funny one. She needed to get—

Her heart stuttered.

Cal.

Scenes flashed through her mind.

The cold night air as they’d walked out the front of her building. Cal’s laughter being interrupted by someone’s abrupt shout and then turning as he pushed her to the ground. She’d looked up at him, her confusion turning to horror as his body jerked twice and blood bloomed over his belly and arm. His stunned expression met hers as he told her to run, his concern for her palpable even as he went to the ground and another burst of red sprayed from the side of his head. She’d almost believed it wasn’t happening—that was until her hands had clutched at his arm when she’d attempted to cover him and his hot blood had flowed over her fingers.

It had happened fast—mere seconds—with Cal’s last words telling her to run.

She couldn’t.

But it hadn’t mattered how overwhelming her need to stay with Cal was because hard hands had grabbed her around the waist and dragged her fighting form away from him. She’d kicked and bitten until a sharp pain had pierced her upper arm.

Hot tears had added to her last hazy vision of Cal lying still on the grass with blood covering his arm and head before the van door had slammed shut.

They’d killed him… To get to her.

Her eyes stung again as she took in a shuddering breath, stifling a whimper in case someone heard her. Cal was gone and she hadn’t told him she loved him. She closed her eyes and hung her head. Fear of being the first to say the words had kept her silent—even when with each cry of pleasure he’d wrung from her body her heart had screamed out for her to tell him.

Cal hadn’t said the words either. He hadn’t needed to. He had been her first—and now her only—but she’d felt it. Maybe he’d been afraid to say it—afraid he’d scare her. She would never know why. But shedidknow with every fiber of her being hehadloved her. He’d shown it with each touch and the way his clear blue gaze had held hers with such tender passion.

God, she should have told him—at least once.

A spasm of pain shot through her chest. Was this how her dad had felt when her mother died? How much worse it must have been after a lifetime of loving. How had he lived through it?

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