Page 34

Callum’s eyes burned as he blinked against the glow of his phone screen. He’d just started to drift off when the notification buzzed against the nightstand. Sloane.

Can I come over?

As sheriff, he got calls and messages after midnight all the time, but never from Sloane. He rubbed a hand over his face, a mixture of excitement and concern stirring in his chest. He wanted her here—hell, he wanted her in more ways than he cared to admit—but this felt different. The timing, the tone. Still, he couldn’t ignore the pull in her words.

Maybe this was about the kiss earlier at the Eagle’s Nest. God knew he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

And hell, even if it wasn’t about that, even if she just wanted to talk or something like that, that would be fine.

Always.

He sent the text then set his phone aside and swung his legs off the bed. Adrenaline pushed back the lingering heaviness of sleep as he padded to the living room.

He glanced at the crib in the corner, a recent addition to the sparse space. The rocking chair next to it sat beneath the soft glow of the moon filtering through the blinds. Callum’s chest tightened. He wanted Sloane to see this, to understand what he was building, not just for the baby, but for her—for them . The flowers on the porch were fresh too, a subtle nod to her love for small, thoughtful touches. Would she notice?

Would she care?

The perimeter alarm chimed softly, and he disabled it. A moment later, a car engine purred outside, its headlights sweeping briefly across the front windows before cutting out. She was here.

Callum moved to the door, opening it just as her fist was about to knock. He started to grab her in for a hug, but then he saw her face. It was pale, her expression tight with something that stopped him cold. The usual brightness in her eyes was shadowed by something heavy, dark. He stepped forward, hands automatically reaching for her, but she flinched at his touch.

“Sloane, what?—?”

A shadow shifted in the corner of his vision, and before he could react, cold steel pressed against his temple. A rough voice rasped from the darkness.

“Don’t move.”

Callum’s jaw clenched. He shifted his eyes to the side to see who it was, at the same time his brain placed the accent.

Jakob fucking Kozak , complete with half of his face missing.

Then it got worse as Nikola moved to stand behind Sloane, the soft shine of a blade visible in his hand as he pressed it up to the side of her neck. She let out a little whimper.

“Get inside,” Jakob ordered, jerking the gun to emphasize his point. Callum’s fists tightened at his sides, but he stepped back, his every nerve screaming for action he couldn’t take—not with Sloane in this position.

His mind raced as Jakob forced him back into the living room. Goddamn it, he should’ve been more alert. More focused. Should’ve listened to his gut when it told him that text from Sloane was off. Maybe then, he could’ve taken the Kozaks by surprise rather than the other way around.

He studied Sloane without a word. She looked like hell, although not physically hurt, thank God—no blood, no bruises.

But she was paler than he’d ever seen her,breaths rapid and shallow—not that he could blame her for being completely terrified when the creatures of her nightmares had shown up. She was still in her pajamas, for Christ’s sake. They’d fucking taken her from her bed.

Callum needed to do something. He catalogued the weapons within reach—his duty belt was by the front door, but his service pistol was on the nightstand in the bedroom.

Too far. He definitely couldn’t make it to the bedroom.

He had an extra Glock hidden under the side table by the couch, maybe ten feet away. That, he might be able to make it to.

Callum took one step in that direction, and Jakob’s meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Don’t even think about doing anything stupid, Webb. We can’t have you leaving when it took us so long to get here.”

Jakob snatched the handcuffs from Callum’s duty belt. Callum tensed, still ready to go for his Glock, hoping he’d get to it while Jakob was messing with the cuffs.

But he froze when a whimper escaped Sloane’s lips. Nikola was pressing the tip of the knife into her skin enough to draw blood. If Callum tried anything now, she would die.

Rage and fear warred within him as Jakob secured the cuffs tight around his wrists behind his back. Callum met Nikola’s empty, ruthless eyes over Sloane’s shoulder, and the man just smiled.

Then pain exploded in Callum’s abdomen as Jakob drove a fist into his gut. He doubled over, gasping for air, as the cold metal of the cuffs bit into his skin.

He’d barely recovered before Nikola shoved Sloane into a chair near the kitchen. His stomach churned at the way the man’s empty eyes roved over her body.But at least Sloane’s hands weren’t restrained behind her back, and where Nikola had put her, she was close to the side door. If Callum could just distract these assholes long enough, maybe she could make a run for it.

But Sloane was growing paler by the second, beginning to hyperventilate, panic blanketing her features. She was about to shut down, like she had the night of the storm in Moldova when they were trying to get away.

That wasn’t good. If there was any hope of her getting away, she had to keep her wits about her.

Those beautiful, terror-filled eyes met his, and he tried to pour every ounce of reassurance he could into his look. She held on to his gaze, and he watched as she slowly forced her fear into submission. She calmed her breathing, refocusing herself and finding her strength. Then she nodded almost imperceptibly, her chin lifting slightly.

She’d done it. She’d clawed her way back.

Damn, he loved this woman. And he was going to tell her that the second this was over. He didn’t even care that they hadn’t been on their first proper date yet.

He just prayed they’d have a chance for that date.

Pain exploded across Callum’s face as Jakob’s fist caught him on the jaw, sending him crashing to his knees. He tasted blood, his ears ringing.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Jakob smirked, flipping the knife over and over in his hand. “You destroyed our business, our livelihood. Do you know how long it will take us to rebuild what we had?”

Callum wanted to give a smartass answer, but that would just make things worse. He needed to figure out a plan. Jakob’s gun was right there in his waistband, but with Callum’s arms restrained behind his back, there was no going for the weapon.

Jakob trailed his knife down Callum’s face. “I had to live in a barn for two weeks because so many police were looking for us.”

The knife continued down, slicing through the fabric of Callum’s shirt and nicking his skin.

“And then poor Nikola didn’t have his regular string of women to slake his lustful desires. It’s been a difficult time, hasn’t it, Nikola?” Jakob asked his brother, without taking his eyes off Callum.

Callum glanced at Nikola, finding the man raking his fingers through Sloane’s hair. He still had the knife to her throat.They couldn’t know about the pregnancy, or they’d be using that to their advantage.

Callum strained against the cuffs, rage coursing through him. At Nikola for being a pervert, at Jakob for the blows, but also at himself. How could he have let this happen? Why had he gotten so complacent—trusting law enforcement across the ocean to handle everything?

Another blow snapped him back to the present. “Stay with me, old man.”

“Not like I can go anywhere.” Words were starting to get mushy as the inside of his cheek swelled.

And even if he could, he wouldn’t be going anywhere anyway. He would never leave Sloane to face this alone.

If he had any doubts about whether he was with her because of the child she carried, they disappeared now. Although he desperately wanted to get both of them out safely, it was she who mattered most to him.

“No, you can’t go anywhere, can you?” Jakob laughed and lashed out again. Blow after blow struck Callum’s face. He could feel blood begin to stream down his cheek, and even on his knees, he was struggling to stay upright.

Struggling to breathe at all.

Jakob stopped and cradled Callum’s face, which was almost worse than the blows. “I should be careful with you. I have to make this last. You just have such a punchable face.”

“Leave him alone!” Sloane shouted.

No. Don’t draw attention to yourself, angel.

But it was too late. “Or what?”

Jakob stood and strolled over to Sloane. He snatched her face from Nikola’s hands. “The most pathetic thing is that you have no idea about the truth of the situation.”

“Can we tell her, Jakob?” Nikola’s eyes lit up with glee, like he was a little kid or something. “Can we tell her the truth?”

What the fuck was Jakob talking about? Callum was definitely missing something. Sloane looked just as perplexed.

“Of course, brother.” Jakob smiled indulgently. “You tell her.”

“We’re not the real bad guys here.” Nikola said it with pride, obviously believing his words.

“Certainly looks like you are from our perspective.” Callum forced the words out, desperate to get both Kozaks’ attention back on him and off Sloane, even if it meant more pain.

But they both stayed near Sloane. “Your father set this whole thing up,” Jakob said. “The kidnapping, the ransom, all of it.”

What?

Nikola laughed. “Insurance scam. He wanted money.”

A sick clarity came over Callum. It made so much sense. William Getty had taken out a kidnap and ransom insurance policy on his daughters, then hired the Kozaks to do the dirty work. A quick way to double his money.

Sloane’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open in shock.

“You’re lying.” But Sloane’s voice wasn’t firm. She could believe William had done that.

Jakob leaned toward her, cupping her chin in his hand. “I can tell you know I’m not lying. And it gets better. Your father could’ve gotten both you and your sister back safely and still gotten his money, but he decided he’d rather have a few thousand dollars more and collect on a death policy with you.”

Callum hated the tiny sob that escaped Sloane’s lips at Jakob’s words. But she didn’t call him a liar again. This was way too calculating to be anything but the truth, and everybody in that room knew it.

“It was a good plan. It could’ve changed our entire business. But then”—Jakob yanked Sloane’s face to look over at Callum—“he had to come and ruin it all. The small-town sheriff with no ties to anything was sent in with one job to do: exchange your sister for the money. Our payment.”

“Dustin Reynolds was in on this too.” As soon as Callum said the words out loud, he knew they were true.

It had never made sense that Dustin had come to Callum for a random handoff mission. He’d only done so to throw any suspicion off himself. Callum making the trade—a former federal law enforcement officer turned small-town sheriff—had added a layer of credibility for this whole scheme when the insurance company read the report.

That fucking bastard.

Fury lit Jakob’s eyes. “Dustin swore you were the perfect person to follow orders and who could be trusted not to run off with the money yourself.”

Sloane let out a whimper as he pulled harder on her face and leaned down closer to her. “But instead, your boyfriend here decided to go off and play hero. He ruined everything for everyone. He cost me my face. And I’m going to ruin your pretty face too.”

Shit. Jakob’s knife was way too close to Sloane’s skin. “Is it money you want, Kozak? I can get you that. Just let me know what the going rate is for fixing features that terrify little kids.”

Baring his teeth, Jakob stormed back toward him. Callum knew more pain was coming, but he’d still rather have this psycho’s attention on him than Sloane.

This time, Jakob used his knife and his fists.

Callum could barely distinguish the different types of pain—the burn of the knife as it sliced along his chest, arms, collarbone, and the heavier pain of the punishing blows to the ribs, the gut.

He locked his jaw against the agony, refusing to give the bastard the satisfaction of screaming, but hanging on to consciousness was becoming harder by the second. Callum swayed on his knees, hardly able to see from both eyes nearly swelling shut as Jakob finally stepped back. Almost from a distance, Callum could hear Sloane crying.

Jakob was still talking, but his words were just noise now. Callum managed to narrow his focus on Sloane. She was looking at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. Nikola, that sick fuck, had stepped back and was touching himself, enjoying Sloane’s sobs.

But to do so, he’d set the knife down on the counter.

This was the only chance Callum was going to get. He needed out of these fucking cuffs so he could get to the Glock under the end table.

“I’ve saved your face for last.” Jakob massaged his facial scars. “I will have my pound of flesh.”

“I don’t think a pound of flesh is really what you want.” Callum spoke as deliberately as he was able, which was becoming more difficult by the second.

Jakob raised an eyebrow. “Is it not?”

“No. In the end, you won’t have beaten me man-to-man, and you’ll wonder if you could’ve. From one warrior to another, believe me, I know that’s true.”

Callum could only pray that playing to Jakob’s ego—calling him a warrior—would work.

It did.

“You’re right. I do need to beat you in a fair fight.” The other man’s smile was smug. Probably because he knew there was no way Callum could beat him. Callum knew that too.

But he didn’t have to beat him.

Jakob got the key to the cuffs. When he yanked Callum to his feet, the room spun. Shit . He was in worse shape than he’d thought. Jakob released the cuffs, but Callum found he could hardly move his arms at all anyway.

“After this, having proven to everyone that I’m more of a man than you, I’ll scar your face,” Jakob whispered into his ear from behind his back. “Then I’ll start on hers.”

Callum turned and threw a punch. Jakob didn’t even attempt to block it or get out of the way. He was toying with Callum.

Callum didn’t have much time. The room was spinning too rapidly; he’d lost too much blood. He stumbled back toward the couch, causing Jakob to move forward.

This was it—he was in place. All he had to do was take one more punch and stay conscious. He didn’t deceive himself into thinking that would be easy.

“You won’t win,” Callum said, hoping that was enough to get the man to strike. “The bad guys never win.”

Jakob raised his fist. “Only in fairy tales. And this isn’t that.”

Callum didn’t even have to act. The blow to his jaw sent him crashing into the table. He barely hung on to consciousness, using his body to block Jakob’s view, and grabbed the loaded gun from its hiding spot.

He was only going to get one shot and knew he was signing his own death warrant, but he didn’t care. He got to one knee, acting like he was about to get back up to fight some more, then, steadying himself as much as possible, spun the weapon in his hand at Nikola rather than Jakob. He fired.

The man crumpled to the ground in front of Sloane, dead.

“Sloane, run!”

She stared at him for a split second, then stood and dashed for the side door.

Callum heard Jakob cursing behind him and knew the man was going for his own gun. Callum spun with his weapon, but he couldn’t even see anymore. His vision was graying.

But at least Jakob had his gun pointed at him. Sloane was out. Callum had to believe she would make it. That she and their child would live.

A shot rang out. Callum knew it wasn’t from his firearm, so he waited for the pain from Jakob’s bullet.

It didn’t come. Second after second, there was no added pain.

He finally wiped enough blood out of his eyes to see.

Jakob dead on the ground in front of the living room window. The bullet had come from outside.

Callum couldn’t even figure out what was happening. Had Sloane somehow…

“Whoa there, brother.” Someone caught him as he was collapsing back to the ground.

“Zac? How did you…?”

“Joy got out a message that Sloane had been taken. Lincoln traced everything here.”

He looked over and saw people—Dorian and Ray Lindstrom?—securing the rest of the house.

“Pretty sure it was Theo who just took that shot,” Zac continued. “The rest of the cavalry is outside. Hell, the entire damn town is outside. Including a bunch of people who shouldn’t be here but came anyway because they wanted to help.”

“Sloane?”

“Fine. Annie has her.”

“Help me up.”

“Callum, you need medical attention. You’re bleeding all over the fucking place. Let’s…”

“I need to see Sloane.” He started to push himself up.

Zac let out a sigh. “Ghost, help me get dumbass here up. He wants to say hello to his adoring fans.”

Between Dorian and Zac, they got Callum up and over to the door. Sloane broke away from Annie and sprinted right to him.

She was okay. Until he saw it with his own eyes, he hadn’t let himself truly believe it.

She stopped before touching him, realizing there was nowhere she could hug that wasn’t going to cause him agony. While he appreciated the sentiment, he still held out his hand for hers.

“You’re alive,” she breathed. “I was so afraid…”

“Me too. But Joy got word out to the cavalry, and they came for us.”

“She’s alive.” Tears poured down Sloane’s cheeks. “Thank God.”

“But she’s in the hospital,” Zac said. “Bad shape. Bear is with her.”

“There are so many people here,” Sloane whispered. She turned to Zac. “Thank you for coming for Callum when he needed you.”

“Callum’s deputies couldn’t have kept these people away if they’d tried,” Zac said with a chuckle. “Pretty sure we’ve got some senior citizens out there who can’t even lift the shotguns they brought.”

“Because they love Callum,” she whispered with a smile. “Who can blame them?”

“Not just him,” Zac said, gesturing for her to turn back around and see how many people were there. “They’re here because they love you just as much.”

“And who could blame them? I know I certainly do.”

And Callum would spend the rest of his life making sure she felt that love every day.