Page 33 of The Finding Series: Vol. 1

“Sorry Wendy,” Rhys started to say, but Wendy cut him off.

“Are you kidding me? That was so hot!” The second the words were out of her mouth she slapped a hand over it as she realized what she’d said. “Oh my God,” she stuttered and Callan and Rhys both laughed as she closed her eyes in embarrassment. “I brought King some carrots,” she choked out as she held up the carrots as if to prove why she was there.

“He’s in his stall,” Callan said with a chuckle as Wendy darted past him. “We’ll be up at the house if you need anything,” he called over his shoulder.

“Okay,” came the response.

Rhys let Callan take his hand as they headed to the house Rhys had essentially moved into. Once Finn came back it would be tight quarters in the small foreman’s house, but Rhys could only see that as being a good thing.

“How’s your dad today?” he asked Callan.

Callan’s hand tightened in his. “Same. Didn’t recognize me at all.” Rhys knew it was a painful topic for Callan and didn’t press him.

“My turn to cook, right?” Rhys began to say, then let his words fall off when they heard the sound of another car coming up the road. They were closer to Callan’s house than to the barn and whoever was driving the shiny, black luxury car seemed to notice because the car bypassed the barn and pulled to a stop near them. They both tensed, but Callan refused to release his hand when Rhys tried to step in front of him.

The door opened and a tall, well-built man with thick, slightly too long, coal black hair got out. If the car didn’t already signify this guy was from out of town, his black, sleek slacks and crisp white dress shirt did for sure. Black sunglasses hid his eyes, but the only thing that had Rhys’ full attention was the shoulder holster the guy was wearing over his shirt, putting the two black Glock pistols he had on him within easy reach.

“Hotter than hell out here,” the guy muttered as he began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal tanned, muscular forearms. The sunglasses came off and if Rhys hadn’t been on high alert, he would have taken the time to admire how good looking the man was.

“Can we help you?” he heard Callan say, the stiffness in his voice clear. Fear went through Rhys as he realized he and Callan had no way to defend themselves. The only weapon on the property was the rifle Callan used when he went out to check the fences and that was locked up in the tack room in the barn.

“I’m here to have a little word with Mr. Tellar.” The tone was casual, but the man’s predatory stance and shifting eyes made it clear this was not a man to fuck with or underestimate. Rhys ripped his hand free of Callan and stepped away from him. If this guy was coming after him, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Callan be in the line of fire.

The man appeared to notice the move, but didn’t react. He also didn’t respond when Callan stepped back to Rhys’ side and grabbed his hand again.

“You can relax Mr. Bale, I’m just here to talk to him,” the guy said finally with a sigh.

“So talk,” Callan responded crisply.

“Mr. Tellar, my name is Jaxon Reid. Ben Reid was my brother.”

* * *

Callan heard Rhys suck in a sharp breath and he turned to see that his lover had gone pale at the name.

“Rhys,” Callan said, jerking on Rhys’ hand to get his attention. He needed to know if this stranger was a threat to them and right now he was completely clueless. Rhys clearly had some association to him, but the guns the man was sporting like they were an extension of his body weren’t reassuring. Rhys didn’t answer him. He just continued to stare at the other man, completely at a loss for words.

“Rhys!” Callan said sharply and Rhys finally turned to look at him.

“Ben Reid was one of the men on the protective detail for my CI,” Rhys managed to get out.

Callan stiffened as he remembered the story Rhys had shared with him just a couple of nights ago. Frank hadn’t gone into details about Rhys’ past when he’d asked Callan to take him on and Callan hadn’t wanted to press Rhys to talk about it before he was ready. They’d only discussed it the other night because Rhys had mentioned wanting to return to Chicago after his parole ended so he could try to make some headway on the case that had sent him to prison. The case that had cost the man in front of them his brother.

“Mr. Reid,” Rhys started to say, but then stopped, unable to get anything else out.

Angry at seeing the man he loved being put through this, Callan did what his instincts had been telling him to from the moment the car pulled up and pushed Rhys behind him. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Reid, but Rhys isn’t responsible.”

“Yes, I am,” Rhys said softly. “It’s my fault.”

“Rhys,” Callan started, but Rhys put a hand on his arm and then moved past him to stand in front of the still quiet Jaxon Reid.

“I trusted someone I shouldn’t have and it cost your brother his life. I’m sorry. If I could change it, I would. I didn’t know Ben very well, but he seemed like a really good man.” Callan hated hearing the pain radiate through Rhys’ voice and he hated the man standing across from him even more because the fucker hadn’t said one word while he stood there, his arms folded insolently as he looked down on Rhys as if standing in judgement of him.

Callan started to step forward with the intent to physically get this man off his land, but he must have sensed that was the case because he put his hand up and said, “Take it easy, Mr. Bale. As I said before, I’m only here to talk.” His eyes focused on Rhys.

“Tom Rawlings is dead,” Jaxon announced without reservation, his tone flat.

* * *

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