Page 61 of Stolen Voices

Eli

Thebuzzofthetattoo gun hums in the background as I stare at the message notification on my phone screen. Callie.

She’s never directly texted me before. The thought has a lethal combination of worry and excitement squeezing my ribs. My breath catches in my throat as I swipe my finger across the screen to read her message.

Callie:Are you coming to rehearsal today?

I exhale a breath, relieved to know she’s safe, and at rehearsal. I haven’t looked at the security footage today to check in on her like I usually do when I’m not at the hall.

Stalker much?

My guilty conscience has me looking over my shoulder at my dad and brothers. Cameron is lying down on a portable massage table while Stephen—a friend who’s a tattoo artist—inks Cam’s chest.

As required, I picked up Mason and Jace at my parents’ place before meeting my dad and Cam for a hike in the canyons and a verbal ass whipping. The idiot finally got his head out of his ass, and he decided he’s going to fight for his girl, Talia.

That’s where my idea with the tattoo came in. Talia’s brother, Nico, is covered in them. What’s a better way to show a guy like him that you’re serious about his sister? You get her name tattooed on your body.

Cam was nervous, but as I look at him now, the smile on his face proves this was the right call. My dad, Jace, and Mason are chatting with him about tomorrow’s game. The Evaders need to win this next series if they want to make it into the playoffs.

Not wanting to draw my family’s attention, I step out onto the patio and text her back.

Eli:I have to take care of a few things first. I’ll be there after lunch.

Her response comes back instantly, pulling a smile from me.

Callie:Sooo, you’re not trying to avoid me?

Eli:Why would I need to avoid you?

Callie:Because of last night.

My heart skips a beat, recalling the warmth of her breath on my face as she leaned forward and kissed my cheek. A half-inch away from my mouth. Fuck, how I wish she kissed me for real.

Eli:A lot happened last night.

Callie:True. So, you’re not mad at me?

Eli:I was never mad at you.

Callie:You looked mad.

Okay, I’ll admit it; I was mad but not at her.

I was more pissed at the line of men waiting to put their hands on her while she poured liquor into their waiting mouths. Pissed at myself for acting like a jealous boyfriend and insulting her with lies. I didn’t like any of it, and I sure as shit didn’t enjoy finding her cheek cut and swollen.

I’m supposed to be protecting her—a job I’m obviously incapable of doing correctly. The fall, her allergic reaction, Malibu, someone hurting her… Nothing is adding up. Worst yet, Callie won’t let me in and tell me what’s going on.

Eli:That’s just my face. It’s always grumpy looking.

Callie:…

Eli:What the hell does … mean?

I wait for another response, but nothing comes back.

Eli:Well?

Is she still there? My mind plays a hundred different scenarios, making the impulse to bring up the camera feed and search for her stronger. I’m about to check when another text comes in, stopping me.