Ultimate Sins (42 page)

Ivan Resnova had become their protector. His money and the tech gurus he had at his command had saved their asses more than once since the Resnova family had come into Brute Force. Add in Crowe's military knowledge, Logan's surveillance abilities, and Rafer's knowledge of the mountains and tracking skills, and they were steadily tracking Wayne Sorenson and ensuring he lost each hidden haven he thought he possessed.

They'd nearly caught him at the last one. High above Sweetrock, Wayne had installed a telescope in the window of a small hunting cabin and managed to find a direct line of sight to front door of the house.

The house was the first one on the corner of the last block before you headed out of town. Running deep and hard in a series of heavy ripples and light rapids, Sweet Water Gorge opened and leveled off outside town, while the heavy course of water continued to flow past within sight of the house.

Directly across from the house a path had been clear cut halfway up the mountain by a logging company intent on building a road through the trees it intended to log. John Corbin had produced a deed to the mountain that trumped the one the logging company possessed. It had effectively ensured the company was driven straight out of the county and the mountains were left almost as pristine and gorgeous as they had been before the company arrived.

Except for that one clear-cut path, which went straight up then stopped. And through that path, Wayne had found the line of sight he needed to watch Amelia the way a cat watched a particularly attractive mouse.

He had left detailed notes of her movements and months' worth of insane ramblings written in a wrinkled composition book that looked as though it had been chased through the mountains right along with Sorenson.

They had scored a major hit against him when they found and struck the cabin. Unfortunately, only minutes before the team had poured through the trees surrounding the cabin, he'd discovered they were coming.

The back door had still been open. In the cabin they had found the four cameras Wayne had managed to hide by burying the wires several inches beneath the dirt before running them up the trees the cameras were positioned in. The setup had allowed him to glimpse the movement in the forest and escape before the cabin was surrounded.

But they had his notebook, and they had a hell of a lot of his supplies.

For a man nearing his sixties the son of a bitch was in damned good shape to have escaped them so quickly.

Now, if Crowe were Wayne, he'd want plenty of places to hide, and he'd want each of them stocked with whatever he needed. If each of his hideaways was well stocked, then Wayne wouldn't have to worry about carrying supplies if he had to run. Each of those hideaways would have the same system of cameras as well, though they would be positioned differently. Wayne would want to ensure his pursuers weren't prepared to evade his cameras if they found another of the hunting cabins.

If Wayne actually managed to get into the house and Amelia came face-to-face with him, Crowe was terrified Wayne would kill her before they could get to her. Or worse yet, if Wayne managed to find Kimmy.

It was one of those insane, rambling plans he'd detailed in the composition book: to get into the house, to get Amelia, and—if it appeared he couldn't escape with her—to kill her before killing himself.

But that was before Amelia had brought their daughter, and the wife Wayne had believed he'd killed, to the house.

Until then nothing had mattered to Wayne but taking Amelia.

Nothing mattered but destroying her.

Amelia had, as Wayne had written, committed the ultimate sin. She'd not only slept with a Callahan, but had betrayed him for Callahan.

She had, Wayne had written, loved a Callahan, and for that, she had to die.

As Crowe entered the communications room, his gaze was caught by movement on one of the cameras. Amelia was leaving the bedroom. Dressed now in loose cotton pants and a T-shirt, she moved to Kimmy's room.

Crowe watched as she entered their daughter's room. Kimmy sat up in bed, a wide smile filled with love on her face. She jumped to her knees in bed and wrapped her arms around her mother.

Amelia cradled their daughter, her expression so serene, so incredibly beautiful in its maternal grace that Crowe felt his throat tightening with a surge of emotion he could barely contain.

He wanted to be there with them. He needed to be there with them. The instinct was so deep, so overwhelming he was tensing to turn and leave the room.

“Mr. Callahan, this damned system is driving me fucking crazy.” Cameron stopped him as he cursed the flickering of another screen, tapped the monitor, then blew a heavy breath of irritation. “Son of a bitch, I even changed the power packs this morning and had new cameras brought in. I swear, I get up with Mike and I'm killin' the little son of a bitch.”

“Let's see if we can figure out what the hell he did.” Biting back the irritation rising inside him, Crowe sat down and powered up the laptop he'd placed there earlier.

They were running out of time, he could feel it. The knowledge of it tore at his senses and drove him to immerse himself in the electronics that were his first line of defense in protecting Amelia against the bastard.

The monster.

“Monsters do exist, son.” His father nodded somberly as he sat next to Crowe's bed. “But they're not invisible. They're right there in plain sight, smiling, laughing, convincing you that they're not monsters just before they strike.” The weight of knowledge in his father's eyes convinced Crowe to the soles of his feet that there really weren't monsters under his bed as his grandpa John had claimed.

“Why did Grandpa lie to me?” he asked his father, feeling betrayed.

His father sighed heavily. “Grandpa didn't lie to you exactly. He just doesn't know how they hide. I do.”

“Have you seen them?” Crowe whispered, his eyes widening as his father suddenly seemed ten feet tall and as strong as the mountains. If he fought monsters, then Dad had to be really strong, didn't he?

“I've seen them.” There was a look in his father's eyes that had Crowe's heart beating faster. “And they look just like anyone else, son. It's what's inside a man that makes him a monster, not what's on the outside. It's not the slimy aliens or the hairy wolf men you have to watch out for. Those are for television and for some little boys”—he gave his son a stern look—“scaring their younger cousins with.”

Crowe got the hint and shook his head. “I won't no more,” he promised, wanting to hear more about the real monsters. “Did you find a monster, Dad, that looked like me or you?”

“Not like you, son,” David Callahan promised with a hint of a smile at his lips. “But one that looks like a man. Remember that, Crowe. Monsters walk on two legs, and they're crafty. They're real good at fooling even the smartest of men. Don't forget that. Because sometimes, you don't realize monsters are stalking you until it's too late. It's far better to be smart, to be safe, and to watch for monsters in everyone you know.”

“Even Logan and Rafe?” he whispered, suddenly wondering if somehow his cousins were monsters.

He couldn't hurt his little cousins. He'd promised Dad he'd always watch out for them, and for his baby sister. What was he supposed to do if one of them was a monster?

His father gave him one of those small, man-to-man smiles Crowe always tried to get.

“Well, maybe not Logan and Rafe,” his father amended. “It's hard to imagine a Callahan as a monster, don't you think?”

Crowe nodded quickly. “They're just dumb kids sometimes,” he sighed. “But I make sure to tell them when they're dumb so they'll get smart.”

His father chuckled at that. “You keep doing that, son.”

Reaching out, his father ruffled his hair as Crowe tried to duck and act like he didn't want his hair messed up. After all, Kiely Moss down the street really liked his hair when he brushed it just that certain way. But Crowe swore that when his dad did that, he was treating Crowe like he was growing up. After all, hugs and kisses were for moms. Dads patted their sons' shoulders or ruffled their hair.

Well, except for daughters, Crowe remembered. His dad said his baby sister, Sarah, would always need his hugs, but he'd wait until Crowe asked for one. That was after Crowe had told him hugs were for sissies, though.

“Dad.” He stopped his father as he moved to stand up from the bed.

“Yeah, son?” his father asked softly.

Crowe cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable, but suddenly overwhelmed by a need he didn't understand. Refusing to allow his face to go all hot, though, he asked, “Can I have one of those hugs now?”

His father's face gentled. Crowe wondered if maybe his dad liked giving him hugs.

“You sure as hell can, son.”

Crowe met that hug halfway. Rising to his knees, his skinny arms wrapping around his father's neck, he felt his father's strength enfold him.

“I love you, Dad, but you said a bad word,” he reminded his father, fighting against the tears that suddenly filled his young eyes and a fear he couldn't explain.

“I love you, too, son.” His dad's voice sounded a little strange, like it did when he and Mom had been reading those papers the night before and Crowe had seen his dad's eyes get kind of wet. “I love you, too.”

Pulling back, Crowe lay back down, staring up at his dad. The monster slayer, he decided. His dad was a monster slayer.

“Go to sleep,” his dad told him firmly.

“Can we go get Mom's Christmas present tomorrow?” Crowe asked then. “I saw what I want to get at Pierson's.”

His dad shook his head slowly. “Not tomorrow, son. Maybe the next day. I have to take your mom to the lawyer tomorrow. But if nothing comes up, we'll definitely go the next day.”

“Be careful, Dad.” His dad always said that when Crowe and his cousins went outside to play. “The news said it might snow.”

His dad smiled. “I'll definitely be careful.”

Then he reached over, turned out the light, and, as Crowe watched, left the room.

*   *   *

It was the last time he'd seen his father, Crowe realized as the memory faded.

Strange how the memories he'd been certain he'd forgotten over the years were surging back with the realization that he now had his own child to watch out for.

As he tracked electronic glitches, cursed some and rerouted others, in the back of his mind was the knowledge that he wanted to see Amelia pregnant. He wanted another child with her. He wanted to watch the changes in her body, be there when his child was born, hold it as an infant and shelter both children as they grew.

Working, he kept check on the monitor displaying his daughter and his woman. He'd maintained a distance between himself and his daughter that was killing him. And today, he saw, it was killing his daughter as well.

You lied to my mommy. You are not my daddy.
Her voice echoed in heart.

He was her daddy, and he prayed to God he could prove it. Soon.

Very soon.

 

CHAPTER 27

It was after midnight before Crowe was able to leave the security room and head to bed.

He hadn't forgotten he was heading to an empty bed, though. Amelia had been sleeping with Kimmy in the room tucked between hers and the one her parents slept in. The small bedroom was connected to Ethan and Thea's room, giving them a security Crowe was suddenly thankful for.

The glitches in the electronics had finally been tracked to a disconnected sensor on the first floor an hour before. After this was reconnected, the flickering in the screens had stilled, and the diagnostics had finally come up clear.

He was going to kill Mike, he thought again. As soon as they found him.

As soon as he managed a few hours' sleep.

First, there was something he had to do though, he decided. Something that wasn't going to wait another night.

The memory of that last night his father had been alive had haunted Crowe. What had made his father come into his room that night? Had he somehow sensed the danger moving closer to him and his family? Was that why he'd changed his mind at the last minute about taking both his children with him, as he normally did?

Whatever the reason, his father had taught him not to ignore the urge that sent him to find his daughter, and the woman who had protected her for him until he could protect them both himself.

Moving purposely to the room Kimmy slept in, Crowe opened the door silently and stepped into the bedroom. Closing the door without so much as the softest snick he stared at the sight that met his eyes.

Amelia lay next to their daughter, her delicate body curled protectively around the tiny girl with the heavy mass of thick, black waves falling from her head. Those odd brown-and-amber eyes were hidden now, sleep stealing the sight of them as Crowe moved to the small chair next to the bed and sat down slowly. Propping his elbows on his knees and wiping his hands over his face, he wondered how the hell he was supposed to deal with this.

If he'd known Amelia was pregnant, he'd have had a minute to get used to the fact that there was another life depending on him.

That wasn't the case, though.

Kimberly Crowe Callahan Roberts was a too tiny little fireball ready to kick Daddy's chops for being all too human, and he couldn't even blame her.

Hell, once this was over, he'd even let her do it.

Reaching out, almost terrified of waking either of them, he let the tip of his finger curl around one heavy wave of hair that had fallen over the blanket covering them. With his thumb he tested the texture of it, realizing with a sense of wonder that it felt just like her mother's did. Soft and warm and filled with life. It even gleamed with that heavy blue-black sheen only Rafe's hair held. Both Logan and Crowe had inherited a bit of their mothers' coloring as well, dulling that Irish rich sheen their fathers had possessed.