Page 56 of The Trouble With Spells
“You need to hire better help,” I observed, running my finger over what I thought was Callum’s palm, but I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that I was touching him, and his skin was warm, which had to be a good sign. When his pinky finger curled around mine, my heart nearly exploded with relief.
Marcone turned his attention to me, his dark brown eyes narrowed. “What I need is for ambitious attorneys to keep their noses out of my business affairs.”
“What’s the end game here?” I demanded, and Callum’s finger jerked around mine, but that was the only movement from him. “Getting rid of me won’t stop the shit storm coming down the pipe for you. They’ll justreplace me with someone else. They already have.” I tried not to think about Shelby’s fate, praying she was being held somewhere too.
“It might not stop it,” Marcone smiled grimly, “but it will send them a message. You and your colleague both turning up dead will give them pause. Maybe get them to look the other way. Not to mention the added bonus of your boyfriend. An innocent bystander. People go nuts when an innocent person winds up in the crosshairs, don’t they?”
“Yes, boss,” Goon One responded, even though I was pretty sure the question was directed at me.
Marcone glared the man into submission. Goon One stepped back, his hands clasped behind his back and was smart enough to keep his mouth shut after that.
“Let Callum go,” I didn’t even try to keep the desperation from my voice. I would beg if I needed to. I would beg for Callum’s life. “He has nothing to do with any of this. He’s innocent. Do what you want to with me, but I’m begging you, let him go.”
Marcone moved closer to me, his face impassive. He stared at me, eyes narrowed, and I didn’t blink as the man assessed me.
The barest of smiles crossed his face, “You love him.”
It wasn’t a question, just a statement that I couldn’t deny.
“I do.”
As I said the words, the truth of it hit me.
I loved Callum.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but I was one hundred percent in love with him. It was ridiculously soon–too soon–but it had happened, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Couldn’t if I wanted to. Which I didn’t.
Marcone bent close to my ear, and I willed myself not to flinch away from him. “And you’re going to die together.”
Loud banging erupted around us, echoing off the metal walls. It surrounded us, coming from every direction.
Marcone straightened, turning to his henchmen. “What the fuck is that? Did you not secure the woman?”
“She’s secure,” Goon Two nodded, his hands coming up to cover his ears over the clanging booms.
Marcone jerked his head towards the door. “Well, go check it out!”
They scurried out, guns drawn. A minute later, one of them yelled, “Boss! You might want to come check this out!”
Marcone pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing audibly, before following his men, slamming the door behind him.
Callum’s pinky tightened around mine, and I turned my head, trying to see him.
“Callum?” I whispered. Doubtful he would be able to hear me over the deafening noise all around us.
Nothing. No response. My heart sped up, fear filling me. Maybe his finger was nothing more than a muscle jerk.
My bindings slipped away, falling to the floor, and I nearly fell out of my chair at the suddenness of my freedom. Breathing hard, I stood, rushing around to where he still sat, head tipped towards his chest, tangled black hair falling forward and covering his face.
Kneeling down, I pulled at the bindings on his ankles. They slid through my fingers onto the cement floor, and I did the same with the bindings on his wrists. Bringing his arms down to his sides, I rubbed his hands, then up to his elbows and down again.
“Baby? Can you hear me?”
He was so still, hadn’t moved at all, and worry flooded my body. He hadn’t acknowledged he was free, or that I was touching him. I had no idea how the bindings had come free, but if I had learned anything the last two weeks it was to no longer question things I couldn’t explain.
Callum finally moved, his head tilting up, and I brushed his hair out of his face. His glasses were askew on his nose, but otherwise miraculously intact. Fixing them tenderly, I looked him over.
There was dried blood on the side of his face, but otherwise he looked unharmed.
