Page 59 of Wicked Duty
Since that ship sailed, I may as well attempt to behave like a semi-functional and emotionally stable human being. That means ditching my go-to strategy of pretending like he suddenly became invisible.
“Hi.” See that? I greeted him first. Look at me killing this adulting thing today.
I fasten my seat belt as he eases off the brake pedal to join the procession of neon sports cars headed to the shoot location.
He casts me a sideways glance. “Miss me?”
The question flusters me. “Um. Not quite. Hasn’t even been an hour since we left the hotel.” My gaze falls to my lap before roaming out the window, where I observe other cars and pedestrians as we roll through the streets.
Whenever I get nervous like this, my fingers trace and retrace the engravings on my silver bracelet. Usually, that familiar motion comforts me, but no luck today. I remain on edge no matter how much I rub my lucky charm.
After a few minutes of thick silence, Callum hits a button on the stereo. A soothing Celtic melody trickles through the car speakers, cutting through my mental fog.
I search for his eyes in the rearview mirror and find them already staring at me.
“Celtic music helps me quiet my thoughts.” He shares this as if he already knows my mind’s in disarray.
The intimacy of this small gesture overwhelms me.
I swallow hard. “It’s beautiful.”
Callum returns his attention to the road, but I can tell he’s still listening.
“You must play this type of music a lot.” I shift in my seat. “Finally, I know the secret to how you manage to remain so even-keeled all the time.”
“Most of the time, you mean.” Our eyes meet again in the mirror. Every time his gaze slides to mine—even through a reflection—my heart performs a bunny hop.
The intensity is too much.
I start studying everything but that mirror. That’s when I notice the angry scrapes and cuts littering his hands. “What happened to you?”
Callum shrugs. “I took care of some unfinished business.”
His deliberately casual tone pings my radar. “When? What business?” When he doesn’t immediately respond, I sit up straighter, tugging at the seat belt across my chest. “What are you not telling me?”
Seconds tick by. So many that I think he won’t answer. His knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. “I went back to your apartment last night.”
“My apartment?” My hand clutches my throat. “Why?”
“Our conversation.” He blows out an audible breath. “You’ve been afraid in so many different environments, in so many different ways, and I just…didn’t want you to be scared to go home.”
His shocking reply stills my tongue. Once I process his words, a warm sensation seeps through me, slow and sweet. He did that…for me? “I don’t understand.”
“I went back to your place to gather evidence. So I could try to track the fucker down and…discourage them. In a permanent way, so they’d never bother you again.”
A permanent way? As in…kill them? Just so I’d feel safe going home? I don’t know whether to feel touched or horrified. “Is that why you’re hurt?”
“More or less.” He engages his turn signal, veering left onto a one-way street. “When I showed up, the guy who broke in happened to be there again.” His voice lilts a little, his accent thickening. “So I gave him my regards. Him and his friends.”
My eyes bulge wide. “You’re saying you got into a brawl last night with a bunch of…a bunch of…”
“You’ve got enough going on, Lucy.” Another hard exhale. “Don’t worry about it.”
Guilt scalds my stomach. This is all on my head. If I returned the crypto wallet to Viktor, there’s a good chance he’d stop sending his goons after me.
Although, I doubt the missing witness who also agreed to testify against him stole anything.
Focusing on that dilemma could break my brain, so I scowl at Callum instead. “And when exactly were you planning to tell me about your little martial arts fighting adventure?”
