Chapter 2 - Cold Blood And Hot Iron
Sadie tried to stand on her own, determined not to show him how much every breath hurt, but as soon as her left heel touched the polished hardwood floor, her knee buckled.
She braced herself against the edge of the booth, waiting for the humiliating hit against the floorboards.
It never came.
Callum caught her before she could drop. His arm hooked under her armpits, wrapping around her ribs with controlled, effortless strength. His suit jacket smelled of rich cedar, faint leather, and gun oil.
“I can walk,” she lied, her forehead resting against his lapel for a fraction of a second before she forced herself back.
“You can barely breathe,” Callum growled softly into her hairline.
Without asking, he slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her off her feet as if she weighed nothing at all.
Gasps flared quietly from two patrons sitting near the bar. Callum didn't even turn his head. He carried her straight out the front doors into the pouring rain, where a sleek black armored SUV idling at the curb clicked its doors open automatically.
A bulky man in a suit opened the rear door. “Boss? Is everything alright?”
“Get us to the brownstone, Marcus,” Callum commanded, sliding into the back seat with Sadie still held firmly against his torso before gently setting her down onto the soft black leather. “And call Dr. Vance. Tell him I need him in fifteen minutes.”
Sadie leaned back into the leather seats, shivering as the heavy car doors shut out the roaring sound of the storm. The heater immediately kicked on, blowing hot air across her soaked legs.
Callum sat beside her, taking off his wet trench coat and draping it heavy and warm over her trembling shoulders.
“I don't need a doctor,” Sadie whispered, clutching his coat around her chest. “I just need ice and a bandage. It was just a guy on the station stairwell. He tried to grab my bag.”
Callum turned to face her in the dim interior of the moving car. His sharp jawline looked carved from granite under the passing streetlights.
“A mugger takes your bag and runs, Sadie,” Callum said, his voice flat and terrifyingly quiet. “A mugger doesn't try to break your arm while holding you against a concrete wall. Your bag is still in your lap.”
Sadie froze.
She looked down at the leather portfolio resting between her hands. He was right. She hadn't lost anything.
“He didn't want my money,” she whispered, realization crashing through her shock.
“No,” Callum agreed, his eyes locking onto hers. “He wanted to see what was inside that folder. Or he wanted to make sure you didn't live long enough to hand it to me.”
The SUV pulled into an alley behind an imposing four-story stone residence in Gold Coast. The heavy iron gates opened smoothly, closing behind them to lock out the city.
Callum lifted her again, ignoring her quiet protests, and carried her through the private entrance directly into a grand study illuminated by a crackling marble fireplace. He set her down gently on a long leather sofa.
A white-haired man carrying a black medical bag was already waiting beside the hearth.
“Callum,” the doctor said, nodding once. “What do we have?”
“A sprained knee, lacerations on her foot, and defensive contusions on her right arm,” Callum reported, standing back with his hands plunged deep into his trouser pockets. His eyes never left Sadie. “Check her for internal bleeding. If she groans, I want to know why.”
Dr. Vance knelt beside Sadie, pulling out shears to cut away her torn tights.
As the fabric was peeled away, Sadie winced. A deep six-inch gash ran along her calf, filled with dark red blood and grey gravel from the train platform.
Callum’s posture went completely rigid.
He stepped closer, his heavy leather shoes silent on the Persian rug. He stared down at the wound with an intensity that made the air in the room feel heavy.
“That came from metal,” Dr. Vance observed calmly, cleaning the wound with antiseptic. “A serrated blade or a rusty fence.”
“A ring,” Sadie rasped out, her eyes tight with pain as the alcohol stung her raw skin. “He was wearing a heavy brass ring. He dragged me down the steps.”
Callum leaned over the sofa, bending down until his face was only inches from hers.
“Did you see his face?”
“It was dark,” Sadie whispered. “He had a hood up. But... he had a tattoo on the back of his hand. A red spider.”
Callum’s entire body went cold.
May you like
He slowly stood up straight, his face hardening into a terrifying mask of absolute, unadulterated rage.
“The Moretti family,” Callum whispered softly to the empty room. “They're tracking my inventory.”
