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CALLIE
It’sthe gentle sound of waves lapping against a shore that wakes me.
Consciousness filters in as my eyes flutter beneath closed lids, feeling the soft warmth of sunlight streaming across my face. Slowly, I open my eyes as sleep fades away.
I have no idea where I am. But the loft-like room is clean and bright, and the bed I’m lying in is beyond cozy, especially with the quilt pulled up over me. I let my gaze play over the white shiplap walls, stopping for a second on a large framed black and white photo on the wall of a huge sailboat.
Next to it, there’s a dresser made of blonde wood and a dormer-style window with gauzy white curtains. Beyond that, I can see the ocean lazily splashing against a rocky, sandy coast.
It’s all beautiful, but…
Where the heck am I?
I remember the utter chaos and terror of waking up to a fire consuming the wall of the bedroom. I remember the gunshots and my own screaming, then roaring over the Brooklyn Bridge in the Range Rover, then heading east into Long Island. I can recall climbing back into the car seat and buckling up, and Castle’s hand holding mine tightly as we drove through the night.
Then I fell asleep.
I sit up, realizing I’m still in the sleep shorts and tank top I wore to bed last night. I hug my knees to my chest, looking around the small, quaint bedroom again before the smell of coffee invades my senses.
Wrapped in the quilt, I step out of the bedroom and walk down a flight of stairs into a gorgeous if simple, whitewashed, and beach-themed house. The living room is sparsely furnished, as is the fairly modern kitchen. There’s a bathroom, a guest room, and a library, almost all with the same white, Nantucket-style shiplap on the walls and various framed nautical-themed posters and photographs.
I find Castle sitting outside on a screened-in porch. He looks up when I step out, still wrapped in the quilt, holding a mug of coffee. I frown in concern when I see the bandage under the sleeve of his t-shirt, around his bicep. But then my eyes drop to what he’s been looking at, and my stomach knots as it all rushes back to me.
It’s everything I had in the laptop bag, which is why Ihadto grab it before we ran. Not just all the documents on him and his past, but also the checks from Declan and the letter from “S. T.”. It might’ve been unaddressed, but it’s pretty clear who it’s from.
Svetlana Tsarenko.
When I drag my eyes up to his, I wait to see the same fury I saw in them last night, before everything went to hell. But instead, he just holds my gaze without flinching, without a single trace of malice or anger.
“Fresh out of oat milk and sugar, sorry,” he smirks, nodding his chin at the mug in my hand.
I blush, grinning back as I bite my lip.
“I think I’ll survive.”
We don’t say anything for a few seconds, before I can’t take the silence anymore.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I blurt. “I had no right to—”
“We’re in Montauk, in case you’re wondering,” he says quietly. He glances around the screened-in porch and then looks out at the ocean lapping gently at the rocky shore in the distance. “I bought this place years ago as an escape…” He smiles, shaking his head ruefully. “Then I ran out of time to escape.” He lifts a shoulder. “No one really knows about this place, and I bought it through a front. So, we’ll be good to hide out here until we can figure out our next move.”
I swallow and lick my lips as his gaze drifts back to me. He raises a hand and beckons with two fingers.
“Come here, baby girl.”
My cheeks heat as I cross to him, and when he pats his thigh for me to sit, I settle into his lap with my heart soaring.
“Castle—”
The word muffles as he cups my face, leans in, and kisses me softly.
“I had no right to get so angry at you,” he growls quietly.
I smile wryly. “You, uh…kind of did, I think. I had a PI dig into your privacy. I went to yourhouse, like a fucking psycho—”
“Is that where you found these?”
His voice is calm, but there’s still an edge to it. His jaw tightens, and I want to hold him close and never let go when I see the darkness and the pain in his eyes.
