Page 5

Callum spent his day off the way he spent most of them: fishing. He cast the line out on the river from his small boat and sat back and waited. He knew the chances of his catching anything were pretty slim, and even if he did catch something, he was just going to throw it back in. Because that wasn’t the point.

Hell, he didn’t really even like fishing very much—it seemed like such an old-man thing to do. But he’d found out the hard way the first couple years of living here that if he didn’t fish on his days off, then people in Oak Creek usually tried to do something unbearable like invite him places . The utter audacity.

Fishing evidently was the activity that everyone universally considered acceptable as an isolated, manly activity.

Callum isn’t being antisocial, he’s just going fishing. He could basically hear the town’s older ladies’ voices saying the words.

At least it stopped them from trying to set him up with their daughters. He’d sit out in this boat and not catch anything for hours if it got him out of that.

Find someone else to love, Callum. I can’t stand to think of you alone, hiding that hero’s heart of yours for the rest of your life. Do it for me.

He scrubbed his hand down his face, thinking of one of his wife’s final requests.

He’d never considered it, not once in the time since Amelia died. He’d dated a little over the years. Had a few casual flings. But he hadn’t been interested in replacing Amelia in his heart. Wouldn’t ever be interested.

When the sun was fully above him, he took a snack break, grabbing the trail mix he’d packed. He was digging out the chocolate pieces when his phone rang. True days off were few and far between as Oak Creek’s sheriff, but he didn’t mind. Busywork kept him focused on the present. Some days, he needed that to ground him.

The bright Wyoming sunshine made it hard to see the screen, so he swiped without knowing who was on the other end. “Webb.”

“Callum. It’s Dustin Reynolds.”

Dustin Reynolds. The past came rushing back in waves—the missions, the adrenaline, the chaos of working together in federal law enforcement. He hesitated before answering, knowing that whatever Dustin wanted, it wouldn’t be good. They’d been colleagues but never friends.

“Hey, Dustin.”

“Still hiding out in Mayberry?” The other man’s voice carried a familiar dry edge.

“Still making jokes about my town?” Callum leaned back, adjusting his baseball cap against the glare of the sun. “What’s this about, Dustin?”

There was one thing Callum knew for damned sure: Dustin was not calling to catch up. They’d never had that sort of relationship.

“I have a mission I need you for.”

And there it was.

“And if I’m not available for missions?” At least, not for Dustin.

“Remember Budapest?” Dustin said, his tone dripping with implication. “Remember how you needed to get home to your wife, and I covered for you and ended up taking a bullet?”

Callum clenched his jaw. Dustin made it sound like getting home to his wife had been nothing more than avoiding being late for dinner, not getting home because they’d found out Amelia had terminal cancer. Dustin had stepped up to lead the team in Budapest, but when the mission went sideways, he’d taken a bullet. It had effectively ended his career as a field agent.

Callum had figured this moment would come, but part of him had hoped it never would.

“What do you need?” Callum asked, knowing he didn’t really have a choice. Both he and Dustin had gotten out of federal law enforcement not long after Budapest—Callum because of Amelia’s death, Dustin to pursue more lucrative options like private security.

“Good. I knew you’d see it my way.” The smugness in the other man’s voice made Callum’s blood boil, but he tamped it down. “One of my security clients’ daughters has been kidnapped. Name is Marissa Getty. She’s twenty-two, an American, and she was taken in Paris about thirty-six hours ago. She’s being held in Moldova.”

Callum frowned. “Eastern Europe? Why aren’t you talking to authorities over there?”

And what did any of this have to do with Callum? Moldova was half a world away from Wyoming.

“It’s not my first day, Webb, so yes, we are working with law enforcement there.” Dustin’s tone grew colder. “But as you know, it’s not the same there as in the US. Local cops can be easily bought and we’re not sure who can be trusted, so we’re circumventing.”

“Fine. But what does any of this have to do with me? I know you have to have someone better than me for a rescue op. I’ve been out of the game for a while.”

That didn’t mean he didn’t keep himself in peak condition. But Dustin wouldn’t know that.

“I don’t need you for a rescue mission. We’ve negotiated with the kidnappers and come to an agreement. I need you to make the exchange. Deliver the cash, get the girl back to neutral territory, and get the fuck out.”

“Why me?”

Dustin paused for a second then let out a sigh. “I need a fucking Boy Scout, okay? We can’t trust law enforcement in Moldova, and I’ve gotten word that someone on my client’s payroll may be tipping off the kidnappers. So, I’m going completely outside my normal network and bringing in someone I know isn’t going to make off with a shit-ton of cash.”

“And that’s me?”

“I may think you’re an asshole, Webb, but you’re a fucking honest one. You’re clean, you’re capable, and you owe me. Plus, my client, William Getty, is willing to make this worth your while. He just wants his daughter back.”

Callum could feel the familiar tension building in his shoulders. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, more like his subconscious remembering how to do battle.

Still, he wasn’t about to cave to Dustin’s demands so easily—not without making the jackass squirm a little first. “You do realize I’m a sheriff now, right? Flying across the world at a moment’s notice isn’t exactly in the job description. I’ve got a town to look after.”

Dustin’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “I’m sure someone else can handle bake sales and chasing down lost cats for a few days. You still owe me, and this is me collecting. You know damn well you’re more than capable of handling it.”

He wasn’t wrong. Callum knew how to handle situations like this—and ones much worse. He hadn’t gotten out of the game because he wasn’t good at it. He’d gotten out because he’d needed something completely different after Amelia’s death.

“This is my job, Dustin. I take it and protecting Oak Creek seriously.”

“Look, I need you. I would do this one myself if it weren’t for my knee—need I remind you that I have a permanent limp because of you?”

Technically, that limp was from whichever Chechen mafia member had pulled the trigger in Budapest that day, but Callum didn’t argue.

“You have backup for me?” Callum asked after a long silence, his tone reluctant. “I’m not going in alone. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“I don’t want to release details on my end by bringing in anyone,” Dustin replied. “You got someone there who wants to make some easy money? You should be done and back home in under forty-eight hours, including travel, which will be via private jet at Getty’s expense.”

“Give me a couple hours. I’ll think about it. Make sure I can get the men I need with me.”

“Fine. I’ll give you until 1800. You’ll need to leave at midnight.”

Callum nodded even though the other man couldn’t see him. “If I do it, this makes us even, Dustin. You don’t call me again.”

Dustin chuckled, the sound as irritating as ever. “Deal. We just want you to make the trade and get Marissa out safely.”

Something about this didn’t sit right with Callum, but it was probably the fact that Dustin Reynolds had always been and would always be an asshole.

But Callum paid his debts. “I’ll be back in touch in a few hours.”

He disconnected the call and stared at the lake, the peaceful water suddenly feeling like a mockery. He’d come out here to escape, to find a moment of calm. Instead, he’d been handed a ticket straight back into the fire.

The hum of the ceiling fan barely stirred the air in Callum’s kitchen an hour later as he leaned against the counter, the phone pressed to his ear.

He’d spent the entire way back in his boat thinking about who he was going to call to do this with him. Because despite telling Dustin he needed to think about it, Callum knew he wasn’t going to say no.

He had a shit-ton of people he could call—Zac Mackay or Finn Bollinger from the original Linear Tactical team. Ian DeRose or any of his crew from Zodiac. They all could do this sort of thing blindfolded, even though they were older than Callum’s forty-four years and retired.

In the end, he decided to keep it to the local Oak Creek guys— Linear Tactical 2.0 , as he thought of them. The children of the men who had founded the survival, weapons, and defense school who had grown up and become warriors themselves. Callum trusted them.

“Linear Tactical. This is Lindstrom,” came the familiar gruff voice.

“Hey, Theo. It’s Callum. Got a minute?”

Theo chuckled. “For you, Sheriff? Always. Unless I’m about to be arrested.”

“Pretty sure I wouldn’t be giving you a warning call if that were the case.”

Not that he’d ever be arresting Theo. First of all, the man was legally dead. As far as any government was concerned, he’d died as a child. Second of all, Theo’s adoptive parents, Dorian and Ray Lindstrom, would never let anyone—even Callum—take their son in. And they had the skills to back that up.

So luckily, Theo fought on the side of the angels, and arrest was never going to be an issue. He’d taken over Linear Tactical when Zac Mackay had retired.

“Then I’m all ears. What’s up?”

“Interested in a trip to Moldova?”

“Are you visiting the world’s largest wine cellar? It’s located there.”

Callum laughed. “I don’t even want to know why you know that.”

“Too much time spent with Lincoln.”

“Explains so much.” Lincoln Bollinger was nothing if not a mountain of facts.

“What’s in Moldova?”

“Old law enforcement contact”— frenemy —“reached out to me, needing help. An American has been kidnapped.”

“Rescue op?” Theo asked. Callum had to smile at the beat of excitement in the man’s voice.

“No. They’ve negotiated with the kidnappers and just need someone they can trust to drop off the money and deliver the woman back to daddy. We would be in and out in forty-eight hours, most of that being used to travel.”

“Is it someone you know? How’d you get involved?”

Callum grabbed stuff to make a sandwich out of his fridge. “They’re worried local cops and even some of their own team may be compromised, so my contact reached out to me since I have no ties to anything. Pay would be good for something pretty easy. Catch is, we need to leave tonight.”

Theo was on the short list of people Callum would want guarding his back in a fight. He’d helped Callum out with various law enforcement issues over the years. Not that he was expecting to need any of Theo’s tactical expertise in this case.

“I’ll have to check with Eva.” Theo sighed. “You know I’m going to owe her for this.”

“Women love that sort of shit. Your new bride will find ways of making you pay in spades.” Although both of them knew sweet Eva would never ask for anything Theo wasn’t willing to give her—especially since he was willing to give her damned near anything. “Plus, you can buy her some jewelry with the money you make.”

Theo chuckled. “She’d rather have vet equipment.”

“You were smart to marry that woman.” Callum finished making his sandwich and took a bite.

“Smartest move I ever made. Will it just be us?”

“I would like to get a third person, but I don’t think I can handle being trapped in an airplane with Lincoln the whole time.” Guy was a computer genius, but he was pretty damned socially awkward. “It’s the height of helitack season, so Derek is out.”

“What about Bear? I know he’s a mechanic, but he can hold his own in practically every tactical situation.”

Callum chewed, thinking about it. Bear Bollinger had a military background and, more importantly, was Finn Bollinger’s son. He could handle himself.

“Yeah. I’ll see if he’s available. Like I said, it probably won’t be very exciting, but it’s good money and we’ll be back before we know it.”

“Good. Bear would be one of my top choices. Plus, he’s single, so he won’t owe anyone sexual favors.” Theo laughed. “What’s our timeline?”

“It’s tight. We’ll have to be wheels up at midnight. We’ll get intel en route.”

“Then I better go. Unless you hear back from me immediately, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

As the call ended, Callum set the phone down and finished his sandwich, staring out the kitchen window into the darkness beyond. The stillness of his home felt like a cruel contrast to the chaos waiting for him on the other side of the world.

He took a deep breath, straightened, and headed toward the next task—telling Dustin he would do it, then calling Bear. There was no time to waste.