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CHAPTER THIRTY

H ow long could it possibly take for one woman to change clothes?

By the little Callan heard coming from behind the closed bathroom door, he gathered Peri and Brooklynn were having a lot more fun dressing Alyssa up than she was having herself.

He’d spoken to Malcolm and left a message for Michael. It seemed that the information Alyssa had discovered about Ghazi’s girlfriend’s death and the bombing that had killed her, which he’d told his boss about immediately, should have led to something. But when he’d questioned Malcolm about fresh intel, he’d gotten nothing but an impatient, “I’m working on it.”

They were the CIA, for crying out loud. How could they not find out who’d ordered the bombing? What its true purpose had been?

His guess was that the answers were hidden for a reason, and that bothered him. A lot.

They needed to know what Ghazi’s endgame was before he demanded the zero-day exploit from Alyssa. If she had to turn it over—a flawed one that would infuriate him—then she’d have to go into hiding. She’d have to defy his demand that she give him the exploit in person.

That was absolutely not going to happen. Callan wouldn’t let Ghazi within a hundred yards of her.

But what about her family?

Would they all have to hide until Ghazi was stopped? How would that work for Gavin and his wife? For Alyssa’s four sisters, who had jobs and businesses and lives?

The other option was to bring Ghazi into custody and hope that whatever he was planning would be stopped when Ghazi was out of the picture.

There were too many holes in the emerging picture, and they were running out of time to place the rest of the puzzle pieces.

Callan was thankful Ghazi didn’t know who he really was. His family should be safe. But Alyssa…Alyssa wasn’t just an old college rival anymore. She wasn’t just a crush he’d never quite gotten over. She mattered to him.

How could he retreat to safety if her life was in danger? But if he stayed with her—and he refused to acknowledge how much the idea appealed—then what about Peri? Could she stay with them, or would being with Callan and Alyssa put her in danger?

He wouldn’t risk that.

Lord…

Before Peri had come into his life, he hadn't prayed much. He’d always been more about asking God to bless his own plans than following God’s lead.

But, despite all the danger he’d faced in the Army and in his work for the Agency, he’d never felt so out of his depth as he did now. Because the stakes had never been so high.

Help me. Show me what I’m supposed to do. Please, lead me. I’m desperate for You.

The prayer cracked something deep inside, a need for a deeper relationship with the Eternal. A need to know that all his efforts mattered, that he was achieving not human praise, but the smile of God.

Could God ever smile on a man who’d messed up so badly?

Can You forgive me, Lord?

Of course Callan knew the answer. He’d only needed to ask, and forgiveness was there for him.

Ask, and repent.

Which meant his life was about to change in ways he wasn’t ready to consider.

Whatever You want, Father. I’ll do it. Just please, please protect those I love.

A door opened down the hall, and Peri stepped into the living room. She wore a grin, her eyes wide and expectant.

They’d curled her hair and added a ribbon, making his already beautiful little girl look perfectly adorable.

“Where’s Peri?” he asked her. “Have you seen my daughter?”

“You’re silly.”

He crossed the room and swept her into his arms. “You look so grown up! I’ll need a club to beat off the…”

Alyssa emerged from the hallway.

Oh, boy.

His mouth went dry. His thoughts fled.

He was in trouble. Serious trouble.

She wore a tentative smile, but it faded. Even with that worried look—which made no sense at all—she was gorgeous. Absolutely stunning.

Her hair was curled. She wore makeup that made her already high cheekbones even higher, her large eyes even larger.

And that dress… Those legs.

Holy smoke.

“Isn’t she pretty?”

“What?” He glanced at Peri, trying to order his thoughts. With effort, he looked at Alyssa again, thanking God she couldn’t read his mind. “Yeah. You look…” He swallowed, trying to get moisture into his mouth, to make his brain function again. “You look…really nice.”

Those words didn’t even come close. He wasn’t sure there were words.

Her cheeks suffused with color. “Thank you. It’s Brooklynn’s.” After a moment, she added, “Obviously.” Her blush deepened. “Anyway, we need to go.”

“Right. Yeah.” He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Brooklynn, who was pretty, very pretty. But she didn’t make it hard for him to remember how to inhale. “I’ll drive. You’re riding with us, right?”

Brooklynn agreed, and the four of them piled into the Mustang for the short ride up the coast to the country club, his daughter talking the entire way.

He turned at an unobtrusive sign and stopped at a guard shack, rolling down his window.

The older man inside the small building wore a stern expression and a crisp black uniform. “Good afternoon, sir. How can I?—?”

“Hey, Dirk.” Alyssa leaned across Callan.

“Oh, Ms. Wright. I didn’t see you. Here for the big shindig?”

“We are. Brooklynn's in the backseat, and I have two guests.”

“Very good.” The guard opened the gate, and Callan drove through.

“Good security,” he noted.

“It’s one of Dad’s non-negotiables.”

Callan maneuvered down the long, manicured driveway toward the clubhouse, marveling at the explosion of flowering trees and blooming bushes set off against the emerald-green golf course that stretched along both sides of the narrow way.

This place dripped with wealth and influence. He should’ve chosen to buy a new suit the day before instead of his on-sale, budget slacks and sports coat.

At a posh place like this, he’d be pegged for a plebeian the moment he walked in the door.

His cell rang, loud over the speakers in the small car. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, then answered, “I’ll call you in two.”

“Got it.” The line went dead.

He shot a smile in the rearview to his daughter, tipping his phone toward Alyssa so she could see that it had been her cousin finally getting back to him.

Their destination was a sprawling building big enough to accommodate the entire population of his hometown. White siding sparkled against the bright blue sky and lush grass spread out before it. At one end, a circular room lined with windows reflected the perfect gardens. Behind the building, the Atlantic was a deep blue-gray, white-topped waves crashing against rocks on a jetty, where a few people hopped from rock to rock.

“Can we go out there, Daddy?”

“Maybe, after the party. We’ll have to see.”

The drive circled in front of overlarge double doors that opened beneath a cupola in the center of the structure. A weathervane on top turned lazily in the breeze. The wide porch was decorated with planters overflowing with flowers and greenery.

It hadn’t occurred to him that they’d be coming to this club, designed by an old golfing great, written up in architecture magazines. The fact that Callan had heard of it said a lot about the place’s prestige.

It was the kind of place that almost made him want to take up golf.

“Wow,” Peri said. “It’s so pretty.”

“Eh, it’s okay. Not as pretty as Gigi and Papi’s house, though.” He grinned at his daughter in the rearview.

She looked out the window, then at him. “You’re right, Daddy. Their house is prettier.”

Alyssa twisted to face her. “I agree. It’s much nicer.”

“If it’s that pretty,” Brooklynn said, “maybe I need to take pictures of it. Will you show me someday?”

“Can I, Daddy?”

“Sure.” Not that there’d ever be occasion for Brooklynn to go to his family’s house, but he couldn’t exactly say no. He stopped in front of the stairs leading to the entrance, and a uniformed attendant opened Alyssa’s door. Callan didn’t have an angle to see his face. “I’ll be back in…”

His own door opened, and another uniformed attendant said, “Welcome, sir.”

Alyssa leaned in and whispered, “Valet parking.”

Of course. He wasn’t used to the rich-and-pampered lifestyle.

“I’d rather park it myself.” He lifted his phone. “I have to return a call anyway.” And he wasn’t going to hand over his keys. Who knew if they’d need to make a quick getaway.

The valet looked confused. “Oh, then I guess, uh…”

The other man came around the front. He didn’t wear the valet’s uniform but a light gray suit with a name tag pinned to the breast pocket that read Robert . He was older with deeply tanned skin and salt-and-pepper hair. A manager of some sort?

Callan’s senses prickled. Was this one of Ghazi’s men? He directed Callan to where he should park.

Ghazi had unlimited resources. For all Callan knew, he’d had people in place at Gavin Wright’s club for months.

Though he hated to leave Peri and Alyssa alone even for a second, he drove away. If Ghazi’s men were watching the entrance—assuming Robert hadn’t been one of them—they wouldn’t see Callan enter with Peri. Even if they were watching, they had no reason to believe Peri was related to him. They’d assume Peri was with Brooklynn, maybe an extended family member.

He dialed Michael and had a short but very informative conversation, which he was still mulling when he jogged up the steps of the country club.

Stopping just inside the door, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Grand and pretentious, probably. Michelangelo on the ceilings and Mozart playing over hidden speakers.

This wasn’t that.

The circular foyer, tiled in white marble, mirrored the shape of the cupola rising overhead, its windows letting in natural light. A round table in the center held a flower arrangement that rose to at least a foot above his head.

Paintings of the golf course and the Maine coastline were displayed in simple gold frames between the doors leading off the space.

It was elegant and understated and tasteful.

Though he was pretty sure that was Mozart playing on hidden speakers, so he hadn’t been completely wrong.

A door on the right led to the pro shop and, beyond that, a restaurant in the circular room he’d seen on the ride in. A door on the left led to a hallway lined with more doors.

“There he is!”

Peri’s voice drew his attention toward the other side of the obtrusive flower arrangement, where his daughter stood with Alyssa and Brooklynn.

“She insisted we wait for you,” Alyssa said.

He plastered on a smile as he approached. “Great. Lead the way.”

They walked down a hall to a glass doorway that led out the back. He got a glimpse of the gathering, but not much more than that before Brooklynn pushed through the door, Peri following.

Alyssa gave him a slightly panicked look, and he slipped his hand into hers, giving it a little we’ve got this squeeze.

They’d better have it. They had no choice.

She took a breath, and they stepped into the party.

* * *

If Callan had been impressed with the building, now he felt blown away.

The patio extended out from the back of the building, giving patrons a view of the golf course on the sides, the rocky shoreline straight ahead.

White tablecloths covered round tables, each adorned with fresh tulips and hyacinths, which added sweetness to the briny scent of the ocean carried on the breeze.

Around the perimeter, long rectangular tables held appetizers, salads, desserts. There was even a carving station, where a white-apron-clad waiter stood at the ready.

Probably not Ghazi’s man. He looked a good fifty pounds overweight with graying hair sticking out from beneath his chef’s hat.

There had to be a hundred people, the vast majority of them invited guests. But a few men hovered around the edges, and these had the look of guards.

But could they be Ghazi’s men?

Callan didn’t know Gavin Wright at all, but surely the man was smart enough not to allow random thugs into his party. No, these guys had to be his security. Why, though? Did the Wright patriarch expect trouble, or did he always travel with them?

Probably the second. He had amassed considerable wealth, and he had a whole lot of secrets in his brain.

Where were Ghazi’s people? Robert, the unlikely valet, wasn’t out here.

Servers mingled, offering appetizers. Mostly young and attractive women.

The bartender looked like he could handle himself, barely smiling as he prepared and poured drinks. When he looked up to give them to the waiting guest, his gaze roamed the space, then stopped briefly on Callan, who quickly averted his eyes, hoping the man hadn’t noticed him watching.

So, maybe the bartender. Or maybe the guy was an ex-cop or ex-military, the kind of guy who’d been trained to expect trouble.

More scanning. Lots of employees, all clad in black pants and white button-downs. Any of them could be with Ghazi, either his people or people he paid for information.

How could Callan do this? How could he let this group of people know that he was Peri’s father?

He needed to be very, very careful.

He hadn’t expected so many guests, all standing in clusters, sipping cocktails and nibbling appetizers.

He’d known Alyssa had a big family, between her four sisters and her six cousins, most of whom were married or paired up, at least. But this was…this was more people than he even knew, much less knew well enough to invite to a party.

“Oh, there’s my family.” Alyssa tugged him through the throng, greeting guests along the way to a cluster of people standing together, chatting comfortably.

Not only did Callan feel like he’d been transported into a world of wealth he’d barely known—and had certainly never been a part of—but as they reached her family, he thought, were all rich people so attractive?

Or had they accidentally stumbled into a modeling shoot?

Her cousins were as tall as he was, dark-haired and fit. Their wives were gorgeous. Even the oldest among them, who'd been introduced as Camilla, was lovely with mahogany-colored hair and bright blue eyes. The only Wrights missing from that branch of the family were Michael and his wife. They were still on their honeymoon.

Grant, the fourth oldest, asked the question Callan had been waiting for. “You’re with my cousin?” The words came out as a threat. Of all the men, this one was the most powerful. And the most suspicious.

Callan returned his iron grip with one of his own. “I am. Nice to meet you.”

“Let me guess. I should see the other guy?”

“Something like that.” Callan’s lip was no longer swollen, but the bruise on his cheek hadn’t faded enough. This guy didn’t miss a thing, and his squint-eyed gaze spoke volumes. You hurt her, I’ll kill you.

Somehow, Callan didn’t doubt it.

Grant grunted, then crouched to Peri’s level. “Hey there, little bit. What’s your name?”

His daughter, utterly unafraid of the warrior, grinned. “I’m Peri, but my real name is Persephone.”

“That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.” He tapped her on the nose. “Make sure you try the double-chocolate cookies. I hear they’re the best.”

Alyssa, Callan, and Peri finally made it through the mass of that branch of the family, and Alyssa pulled Callan toward another group of model-gorgeous people who stood off to one side beside an older couple, who were the only people sitting down.

“Caleb,” she said, “I’d like you to meet my grandparents, Tom and Susie Wright.”

When the man stood, the resemblance to his grandchildren became obvious. He was tall and slender and held himself like a soldier despite his advanced age. His eyes were brown, his hair gray, but Callan imagined it’d once been the same color as all those Wright men's.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Wright.” He shook his hand, then bent to the woman, who’d remained sitting. “Mrs. Wright. Congratulations. How many years are you celebrating today?”

Her smile was welcoming. “Sixty-five.” Her eyes sparkled as they flicked from Alyssa to him. Rather than shake his hand when he extended it toward her, she gripped it in both of hers, her fingers strong and cool. “It’s unusual for Alyssa to bring a gentleman friend to family gatherings. I look forward to getting to know you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s an honor to be here.”

She continued to hold his hand in one of hers, gesturing to the party going on all around them. “I hope we’ll have time to talk when all of this is over.”

“Me, too.” Despite the flash of guilt for their deception, he kept his smile in place.

Cici was the middle sister. She had hair so bright red that it couldn’t possibly be natural, though it looked good against her pale skin and the freckles dotting her nose. She wore no makeup and had opted for a pair of slacks and a blouse instead of a dress. She wasn’t polished like her sisters—more natural, down-to-earth.

Delaney had dark blond hair and blue eyes. She seemed quieter than the others, shy even, and more interested in chatting with Peri than getting to know him.

And then there was Kenzie. She was the youngest, probably in her early twenties, with long chestnut hair and eyes the same golden brown as Alyssa’s. He thought he saw freckles, like her older sister Cici, though Kenzie had tried to hide them with makeup. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and she wore a sundress that looked comfortable and casual. When he stuck out his hand to her, she eyed it, amused, before she shook it. “I can’t wait to hear this story.”

He let out a nervous laugh that was more than just for show. What would Alyssa tell her sisters about him later, when the whole story came out?

The answer that presented itself was not at all pleasant.

“Caleb, this way.” She slipped her fingers into the crook of his elbow, and he beckoned Peri, who’d been following along, greeting people with how-do-you-do’s like a perfect little gentlewoman.

Had Megan taught her that? Or his parents?

He was ashamed that it hadn’t been him. Before today, he’d only ever introduced her to his family and Alyssa.

Alyssa stopped in front of an older couple surrounded by people about their same age.

A woman broke away from a conversation and, seeing Alyssa, pulled her into a quick hug. “Beautiful girl, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” Alyssa turned to Callan. “Caleb, I’d like you to meet my mother, Evelyn Wright.”

He could’ve picked Alyssa’s mother out without the introduction. She was as tall as Alyssa, maybe five seven or five eight, with the same silvery blond hair, though hers was a little more silver, a little less blond. Alyssa had inherited her mother’s high cheekbones, honey-brown eyes, and warm smile.

Evelyn Wright was sophisticated and elegant and might have been intimidating if not for her kind welcome as she shook his hand. “I’m so glad you’re here, Caleb. I hope everyone’s treating you well.”

“They are, mostly.” He caught sight of Grant across the patio giving him the evil eye and gave the warrior-cousin a pointed look as he leaned in conspiratorially. “Though I’m a little worried that one’s going to kill me.”

Following his gaze, Evelyn laughed, the sound as relaxed as if they were old friends. “Just don’t get on his bad side, and you should be fine.” She shifted her attention to Peri. “And who is this beauty?”

“This is…Peri.” He didn’t add my daughter, just in case the server walking by was an enemy .

“How do you do.” Peri shook her hand, then pressed against Callan shyly, seeming almost awed. He could understand that. Evelyn was not only beautiful, she was regal. She didn’t wear a tiara, but she was one of the few women in the world who could get away with it.

It struck Callan that this was Alyssa’s life. This woman represented the future Alyssa would have. Beauty and power and wealth and strength, all wrapped up in one perfect package.

If this woman sat on the throne, Alyssa was the princess, next in line.

Which made him…

The pauper? Yeah. That felt right.

Alyssa’s hand was still tucked in his elbow. He squelched the temptation to distance himself, knowing she shouldn’t be with him, not even if it was all pretend.

It was irrational and unnerving how much that bothered him. He’d never felt inferior to anyone in his life. All this money and beauty and influence was messing with his mind.

A gray-haired man broke away from his conversation and turned toward them, pinning Callan with a piercing look.

Alyssa stiffened, her hand tightening on his biceps. “Hi, Dad.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek before turning to Callan. “Caleb Thompson, my father, Gavin Wright.”

Callan had spotted Gavin already, of course, having seen his photograph many times over the years. He wasn’t as tall as his brother, Roger, whom Callan had met earlier. At maybe five-eleven, Gavin Wright didn’t need height to be powerful. He had broad shoulders and a thick chest. His power radiated like an aura. His skin was tanned, wrinkles fanning out around sharp eyes.

When he shook Callan’s hand, his grip wasn’t as firm as Grant’s had been, but it didn’t need to be. The threat was implied anyway, somehow. “Caleb, is it?” The way he asked the question told Callan he knew that wasn’t his name at all.

That was curious. And worrisome.

Remembering Malcolm’s warnings, he wondered… Was Gavin an enemy? Not of Alyssa, but of Callan?

If so, then the security around the patio couldn’t be trusted.

If so, they were tiptoeing through a viper’s nest.

He hoped it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t assume.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Not sure I did.” He backed away, his close-mouthed smile doing nothing to soften his features. He gave Callan a long, assessing look.

Callan put up with it, silently, but he didn’t like it. If Gavin thought he’d bristle or babble, he had another think coming.

Alyssa, on the other hand, put a little distance between them.

Great. Did she sense a drone strike coming?

When Gavin noticed Peri, his expression shifted so markedly that he looked like a different man altogether. His hard features softened, his lips slipped into a genuine smile. “Who do we have here? You’re not with this guy, are you?”

“He’s my daddy.”

Callan stifled the groan. He couldn’t exactly warn Peri not to tell people that. But danger signs flashed across his mind.

“You’re kidding.” Gavin shook his head. “How does an ugly ogre like him get a beautiful daughter like you?”

Evelyn’s laugh was lighthearted as she gripped her husband’s forearm. “You should talk, Mr. Ogre-Man. You’ve got five beautiful daughters.”

Gavin clutched his chest as if she’d shot him. “I’m wounded.”

Peri giggled at the man’s antics.

Callan tried to ignore a sharp jab of jealousy.

“You have five little girls?” Peri sounded awed by the prospect. “Can I meet them?”

“They’re not so little anymore.” He lowered to his haunches. “You’ve already met Alyssa. She’s my oldest.”

Peri glanced up at Alyssa, who smiled at her fondly.

“You’ve met them all.” Alyssa pointed to her sisters, who were standing and chatting nearby. “Brooklynn, Cici, Delaney, and Kenzie.”

“Oh. You’re all big now.”

Gavin chuckled, low and deep. “They are so big. Have you eaten?”

“Huh-uh.”

“We should fix that. Little girls need to eat so they grow up tall and strong, like Alyssa here.” He held out his hand, not bothering to check with Callan first. “Should we start with the cookies?”

Alyssa said, “Dad?—”

“—Gavin.” Evelyn spoke at the same time.

They were both suitably shocked, giving Callan the freedom to chuckle and say, “How about a little protein first?”

Gavin shook his head. “Fathers take the fun out of everything.”

Peri grinned at Callan, then slipped her hand into the older man’s and walked away.

“Don’t worry,” Evelyn said. “He’ll take good care of her.”

He hated to think about the expression that must’ve been on his face to elicit that remark.

“Oh, I’m sure he will.” Even so, he’d be sticking close. “I could eat.”

“You can always eat.” But Alyssa was teasing as she gripped his elbow again. “Lead the way.”

Step one: meet the family. Check. Step two: tell them about the engagement.

The hard part was still to come.