Page 11 of Love and Order
CHAPTER 11
When a soft knock sounded at her door, Callie jerked her face out of her pillow and dabbed her eyes and nose with her handkerchief. She cleared her throat softly to hide the tears that surely marred her voice.
“You don’t need to check on me, Hattie. I’m well enough. Just resting.”
“It’s not Hattie.”
Joe’s deep voice jolted her, and she wrestled herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “I, um …” She fought to swallow her tears. “You didn’t stay to see the show?”
“Plans changed.” He paused. “May I speak to you?” Another hesitation. “Without a door between us? I have some news.”
News … About Rion?
She rose and, handkerchief in hand, looked in the vanity mirror across the room. Her hair was mussed; her eyes were puffy; her dress was rumpled. Oh, she was a sight.
“Just a moment, please.”
Callie tucked the stray wisps of hair into place, tried to smooth her dress, then splashed a little water on her face. It would do nothing to resolve her swollen eyes, but at least she might feel more refreshed. Once she’d patted her face dry, she opened the door and, despite her best effort, turned a pitiful attempt at a smile on him.
“What news?”
He stared—then glanced down the hall. Finding no one, Joe pushed his way into her room and closed the door.
“What’s the matter?” His voice rumbled, concern once again dripping from his words. When she couldn’t bring herself to answer, he ducked to meet her eyes. “Callie, please. Talk to me. What happened out there?”
She couldn’t force herself to tell him. Not when she’d nearly broken her cover. Nearly failed … He might tell Mr. Pinkerton, and she’d be removed from the case—or worse, from the agency.
“Why’d you follow Braddock in the first place? Was it just that you’d seen him arguing, or …?”
Callie gave a single, hesitant nod. “He’s the only lead we had.” And not even a lead on the murders, specifically. Simply a lead on who’d run off their horses.
“So why are you crying?”
How could she explain without risking her job … or giving away too much? She had to divert attention from the truth.
“I … It started with Mrs. Ingram explaining how she and her husband adopted Hattie. I hadn’t heard that story, and my heart broke for Hattie.”
“It’s a hard story, but it was more than that.” Again, he ducked to meet her gaze. “Was hearing a story about another orphan too difficult?”
She nodded.
He rubbed his palms down his pant legs. “I understand. Seeing my parents murdered in Kansas before the war because of their staunch support of abolition has made me feel the pain of others who’ve been orphaned.”
Her throat growing thick with emotion, she lunged into his arms, and words tumbled free.
“I was adopted from an orphan train.” A hiccuping sob slipped out. “The same train Rion Braddock was on.”
Overcoming his shock, Joe circled her in a reassuring embrace.
“So you recognized Braddock?”
She nodded against his chest. “I recognized his name when Garvin said it—and his likeness today. I—I knew his sisters a little bit—especially Andromeda.” She sobbed again, and he pulled her tighter.
Orion. Andromeda. What names …
Joe shook his head. “What are the odds?” No wonder she’d been on the verge of tears. This hit close to home. And what strength of will. She’d held herself together despite this shock.
“Hard to believe.” She barely breathed the words.
He rubbed her back, liking her small frame tucked against him. “So where were you adopted?”
“In Chicago.”
“How old were you?”
“Six. I was terrified. Terrified when they put me on the train and terrified when they took me from it. I was so scared, I …”
He stroked her back, enjoying her nearness and the fact that she was sharing a vulnerable piece of herself. “You what?”
“I jumped from Papa’s wagon into the middle of the busy Chicago street. I could’ve been killed, but Mr. Pinkerton rode up on a horse and plucked me out of the mud. Carried me to safety.”
“Allan Pinkerton saved your life?”
She drew back to look up at him, eyes still teary. “It’s why I’ve always wanted to work for him.”
Joe chuckled. “That’s amazing.”
“I owe him so much. I don’t want to disappoint him. We have to solve this case, Joe.”
Even through her tears, she was beautiful. He smoothed the stray hairs back from her eyes and, without thinking, bent nearer. “We will,” he whispered.
He pressed his lips to hers, and she gasped under the gentle pressure. Startled, he pulled back, inches away. “I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have—” His face burned, and he tried to pull back altogether, but she grasped his shoulders and pressed her lips to his.
Joe’s mind reeled. For the barest second, they simply stood, lips touching, until he gently let his mouth wander over hers. This time, her lips parted without the gasp, and she melted against him, returning the affection. He wrapped her in his arms once more, deepening the kiss. She slid her hands to his neck, and her touch sent lightning coursing through him. Breaking the kiss suddenly, he looked around.
“I should go.”
“But—”
He opened the door and peeked into the hall before he backed out.
Her eyes brimmed again. “Joe.”
His given name sounded good on her tongue, even with her hurt and disappointment coiled around it.
Lord Almighty, help me! I really shouldn’t be thinkin’ such thoughts. Not about a fellow operative, especially one as pretty as Callie Wilson.
Before he turned, she caught his elbow. Even through his shirtsleeve, her touch was like fire.
Tears spilled down her flaming cheeks. “At least tell me the news you mentioned.”
News? “Right. Your Mr. Braddock? He rides a black horse with three white stockings.”