Page 25 of Through Any Fire (Any x #1)

L eon’s gaze cuts to Callahan and narrows, but after a moment, he does as Cal asks. In the next breath, Cal has wrapped an arm around my waist, and he tugs me to his chest. The heat of his palm pressing against my hip is possessive and intoxicating and stirs a need I thought I was long rid of.

“Callahan Keane,” Leon grinds out. “Your wife ”—his gaze darts over to me and lingers—“seems to have found herself a membership. It was simply a lucky coincidence I found myself with her here tonight. Who knows what could’ve happened if she was left to her own devices?

As I’m sure you must be aware, controlling Loren Catrone isn’t an easy feat.

” He pulls a cigar from his jacket and bites it between his teeth around a smile.

“You must not know Mrs. Keane as I do, Mr. Bianchi. She’s particularly… agreeable ”—he brushes a feather-light touch over the crown of my head—“if given the right motivation.”

I grind my jaw shut and jerk my head from his petting. He simply returns his hand to my waist and tugs me closer.

“Now if you’ll excuse us.”

Leon’s nostrils flare, and then he clears the sour look from his face. He grabs the cigar and waves it in dismissal. “Always a pleasure, Keane.”

Cal doesn’t look back as he tugs me away. “Wish I could say the same, Spare.”

I steal a glance backward, and Leon’s face reddens with Cal’s insult.

He’s always been particularly bitter about the fact he was born second, but apparently, he grew out of it a few years ago, settling into his role as right hand to his older brother.

Though young, the Bianchi household trains their men from the time they learn how to walk.

Cal’s grip tightens as he pulls me to the exit. His icy demeanor practically burns, and I struggle to keep up with his quickened pace in my heels.

When we exit the lounge, we’re alone in the stairwell and begin the ascent to street level.

Our steps echo as the silence simmers, but in the next breath, Cal presses me against the wall.

The concrete is cold against my back, but not as glacier as Callahan’s gaze.

He pins me to the wall with a hand on either side of my face, leaning close until we share the same breath.

His shadowed eyes flick between mine, darting over the rest of my face before he finally speaks.

“ What the fuck were you thinking?” he growls.

My wrath rises to match his, and I straighten against the wall. Cal shifts closer until our lips are mere breaths away. His sandalwood cologne washes over me and I suck in a breath. Cal jolts like I electrocuted him, recoiling away. The movement shocks me back into my fury.

“What the fuck was I thinking? That I might get some fucking information you clearly weren’t able to. I thought I might find where they took Alice. And guess what? I did. ”

Cal inhales sharply, and he looks away. “How did you know?”

I roll my eyes. “Know what, Cal? Be a little more clear, would you?”

He rips away from me and scrubs his jaw with a bandaged hand. Dots of blood seep over his knuckles, and I reach a trembling hand out to touch it, but then remember myself. I pull my hand back and curl it into a fist.

It does the opposite, and his eyes zero in on my left hand. I curl it into a fist, but not before he grabs it. His eyes narrow with obvious fury.

“Where the fuck is your ring, Loren?”

A chill shivers down my spine. I straighten, refusing to cower beneath his intoxicating rage. “At home. It wasn’t conducive to my plan to advertise that I’m married.”

Callahan stills. Abstrakt’s music pounds through the door and a single light flickers in the stairwell. It’s ominous, but not nearly as dangerous as the man in front of me. Cal crowds my space, slipping a hand to grasp my chin.

“Don’t ever take off my ring again. You are mine . Whether you like it or not.”

A churning heat thrums low in my belly. His possessive demeanor is confusingly attractive. But I can’t let him know that. As if he has no idea of my internal war, he continues with his barrage of questions. “How did you know to come to Abstrakt?”

The question draws to light information I’d rather stay hidden. He knows I listened.

I raise my chin a fraction and stare down my nose at the man huffing in front of me. Tense shoulders rise and fall with each choppy breath, and shadows eclipse his face.

“ How did you know? ” he shouts. His rage echoes in the empty stairwell and shakes my defenses .

I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “I never vowed to be obedient.”

Callahan curses under his breath. An unyielding finger presses beneath my chin, forcing me to look up at him. Storms brew behind his brown eyes.

“Must I shackle you to my arm so you don’t run off unprotected again?” The threat washes over me, but I see nothing but cold promises in his stare.

I don’t respond, refusing to give his tantrum further fuel. His gaze dips to my lips and returns to mine once again. He releases a deep sigh. “If that’s what it takes.”

With that, he drops a hand to my arm and tugs me up the stairs. We exit into the quiet night. Across the street, Cohen leans against a black SUV. I do my best to ignore Callahan as he opens the door and practically shoves me in.

Then Cal reaches over my body, trying to buckle my seatbelt for me, but I swat his hand away.

He arches a brow but shuts the door and rounds the back to enter on the other side.

With a practiced ease, Cohen slides into the driver’s seat, adjusts the mirrors, and then smoothly starts the engine, a low hum vibrating through the car.

Cal types furiously on his phone. I tune him out, choosing to lean my forehead against the cool glass. The city lights blur as we speed back to the residence, not a sound in the car other than the thrum of the engine.

When we finally reach the garage, he hops out and opens my door. But not for any obvious, chivalrous reason. No, instead he places a firm hand on my lower back and guides me to my room .

“I’m quite capable of finding my way to my room, but thank you for the chaperone,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

Cal just grunts and continues to push me down the hallway. But when I go to open my door, he tugs me further. Toward his room.

“Cal, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he opens the door and gently prods me inside.

With a quiet click , I’m shut in his room with him.

I spare a glance and note it’s set up similarly to mine, though much larger.

Instead of a couch and sitting area, there’s a desk and office chairs in front of the fireplace.

Like mine, there’s a bar cart in the corner—though unlike mine, it’s clearly in need of a restock.

A door on the right is open and looks to lead to his bedroom, but I turn on my heel and glare at the man in question.

He ignores me, flipping the lock on his door and prowling toward me.

I straighten, raising my chin and a singular brow, but he just huffs a laugh and passes me, heading straight for the bar cart.

He pours himself a generous glass of whiskey and rounds the desk, perching on the edge as he stares at me from over his tumbler.

“Cal, why am I in here?”

He smacks his lips and swirls the amber liquid in his glass. A gentle breeze from a cracked window chills me, and my nipples harden under my dress. His eyes draw straight to them, and he takes another sip.

Finally, he speaks. “You said you found where they took Alice.”

With cautious hesitation, I nod once. My gaze never leaves his.

Cal places his glass on the desk and rolls his sleeves to his elbows. Muscles ripple with each twist. I find my gaze drawn to the tendons on his wrist .

Cal notices where my eyes have fallen and smirks, crossing his arms and raising a brow. “Then where is she?”

My lips curl into a coy smile. Tilting my head, I leisurely take three steps toward the brooding man. “Now you’re suddenly interested in my intel?”

Callahan remains silent. I pick up his glass and take a small sip, relishing the warmth as it travels down to my belly. Heat gathers low and unavoidable as I breathe in his sandalwood cologne and masculine shampoo. Cal’s nostrils flare as I lean closer.

“I thought I wasn’t capable?” I ask, circling his desk and putting some much-needed space between us.

Callahan’s shoulders stiffen as I drag a nail over his wooden desk, clattering over a fountain pen, humming over his desk pad, crawling up his arm, and finally coming to a rest over his shoulder.

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t move other than the tick in his jaw.

His back is warm against my chest, and I press my breasts against his shoulder blades.

“I never said that.”

“What else could you have meant?” I prod further. “It was always about how capable I was. Even then, even now.”

Cal’s head turns toward me, but I slide a hand into his waves and clench, halting his movement and tilting his head up. Bending down, I whisper against the shell of his ear, “You never believed I could handle it. And that’s the part I find most insulting.”

I straighten abruptly and toss his head away, crossing in front of him once more as I sip from his glass.

“I never thought you weren’t capable,” he says with a low voice that rumbles from his broad chest. His hair is mused from my contempt, like he just rolled out of bed. Or rolled into bed. With someone. The ghost of his wavy locks lingers between my fingers.

I clench my hands and snicker. “Of course you’ve rewritten history so you’re the knight in shining armor.”