Page 96 of Grumpy on the Mountain
"Then why are you acting like my personal bodyguard?"
Before he can answer, he presses a quick kiss to my temple and straightens up with that military posture that means he's made some kind of decision.
"I'll be back to pick you up at five," he says, already turning away from my desk.
But instead of heading toward the exit like a normal person who has just delivered his girlfriend to work, Beau Callahan does something that makes my jaw drop.
I watch in complete fascination as twenty pairs of eyes track his movement like spectators at a tennis match, everyone clearly thinking the same thing I am:
What the hell is happening right now?
Beau's boots echo against the concrete floor, every step brutally loud, like gunfire that's totally deliberate.
He marches straight across the operations room toward Jamie Striker's office.
When Beau reaches Jamie's office door, he doesn't hesitate. Just raises his fist and knocks with the kind of authority that suggests this isn't a social call.
"Well, this is unexpected," I hear Jamie say as his door opens. "Come in, Beau."
And then my mountain man disappears into that office, leaving me surrounded by curious stares and growing dread about what that mysterious package has set in motion.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Beau
Jamie looks up from a stack of topographical maps spread across his desk, and the expression that crosses his face is part surprise, part satisfaction, and entirely knowing.
"Well, well, well," he says, leaning back in his chair. The smug asshole has been waiting for this moment for three years. "If it isn't Beau Callahan. To what do I owe the—"
"I'm not here to chat, Jamie."
I close the door behind me and move to the chair across from his desk, inviting myself onto the seat opposite him.
"Molly could be in trouble, and I think I might need your help."
His expression shifts immediately, all traces of amusement disappearing as he switches into tactical coordinator mode. It's a look I remember from Afghanistan, when shit was about to hit the fan and lives depended on making the right call.
"Talk to me," he says simply.
I reach into my jacket and pull out the documents I've been carrying since three this morning, when I couldn't stand lying in bed next to Molly's sleeping form while my mind raced through worst-case scenarios.
I slide the documents across his desk, my hands steadier than they have any right to be considering I haven't slept.
That package sat like a time bomb in my mind right from the moment we got home. Swarming my thoughts about Riley finding her. Riley coming here. Riley taking her back.
The idea of his fucking hands on her makes my blood turn to ice.
Not happening. Not while I breathe.
"There was a package addressed to Molly delivered to Johnson's Auto," I tell Jamie, spreading the papers across his desk. "Molly doesn't know. But I opened it last night."
Jamie's eyebrows rise, but he doesn't comment on the invasion of privacy. Instead, he leans forward to examine the documents, and I watch his face darken as he reads.
Legal threats. Manipulation tactics. Claims that Molly violated some bullshit engagement contract by leaving without "proper notification."
It's complete financial intimidation designed to force her back into Riley's control.
"Jesus Christ," Jamie mutters, looking up at me. "Your brother's a real piece of work, isn't he?"
