Ultimate Sins (30 page)

“We're not finished,” John drawled as Crowe turned to leave the living room.

“We're finished,” Crowe assured him, raking him with a furious glance. “And I'm sure the source that you stole this information from won't be pleased with you.”

“Stole it?” John's brows arched in question as Crowe felt his guts tighten. “I didn't have to steal it, Crowe, it was given to me.”

Which meant John was now a fully integrated member of Ryan's team. Possibly the second-in-command his uncle had mentioned looking for.

“Crowe.” Amelia stepped forward as he turned to leave.

Turning back to her, Crowe forced back his rage that she should have even had to know.

“Why?” she asked, her hand lifting as though to reach out to him before falling helplessly to her side. “Why would you do that?”

“Why do you think I did it, Amelia?” He turned away and stalked from the room.

 

CHAPTER 17

The bedroom was dark, the lights turned out completely, the drapes drawn over the balcony doors as Crowe sat in the wingback chair across from the bed and stared at it silently.

One elbow was propped on the arm of the chair as he slowly rubbed his finger against his upper lip, his thoughts taking him back to a place he hadn't visited in years. To a time when the darkness inside him had been lit by only one thing.

Amelia.

The contact was still in the military reserve. Crowe held the paperwork that could send him to military prison or exonerate him based on Crowe's word that he'd been working for an upper-level, top-secret black ops group at the time he'd made a very stupid decision.

Crowe's report could be held indefinitely. Or it could go in the next morning, and Joey Fields knew it. That was the reason he was in Sweetrock working for Wayne Sorenson as a gofer and handyman. To keep an eye on Amelia and get to the bottom of the whispers Crowe had heard that she was being abused.

Staring at the contact now, Crowe wondered if he'd put him in place to find a reason to kill, or because Crowe knew there was a reason.

“Wayne's furious,” Joey continued to report. “The bastard keeps hitting her in the face. It's getting bad. Nothing Wayne threatens him with works.” The other man looked away, and Crowe knew he was hiding more.

“Whatever you're not saying, I suggest you spit it out. You're not in military prison for a reason, Joey.”

The other man snorted mockingly. “Whatever.”

“Just tell me,” Crowe snapped.

“He rapes her,” Joey breathed out roughly. “At first, all I heard was a maid discussing it with the gardener. A few weeks later I was starting to believe it was just talk, so I hid in that tree outside her room and started watching. She came in her room and he was waiting for her. She didn't scream or cry—” He broke off, swallowing tight.

“Finish it!”

Joey flinched.

“She begged him,” he whispered hoarsely then. “He threw her on the bed on her stomach and he raped her. At least the bastard used a condom. Then he left, went to the bar for a while, then drove out to that cabin he owns in Aspen.”

Joey knew death when he saw it, and Crowe knew the other man had seen it in his eyes that night.

“I can take him out easy…” Joey offered.

“Pack and leave,” Crowe ordered him. “Return to base, my report will be on your commander's desk within the hour. You'll be sent out to Europe in twelve hours.”

“Crowe.” Joey stopped him as he turned to leave. “Wayne's supposed to follow him to the bar tonight. He says he's going to make Stoner leave. You might want to be there.”

“What time?” Crowe asked him.

“Ten, about the time he leaves. Wayne's going to try to do it private, so no one knows what Stoner's doing to her.”

Crowe nodded. The meeting would be in less than two hours.

“Get out of here and get to base now,” he ordered Joey again. “And I was never here, Joey. Remember that.”

“Remember?” Joey snorted. “Why don't I just forget this whole year of my life, man? I think that would be safer all the way around for me.”

“I think I agree with you.”

From the cabin he'd met the soldier in, Crowe drove to Sweetrock, keeping to the back roads and hiking through the dense forest the last few miles into town.

At the time, it had been easy to access the tavern without passing too many houses. The small stream behind it that swelled with yearly snowmelt hadn't yet been tamed to stay within its banks. The wilderness grew to within feet of the small block on one side, making it easy for Crowe to slip to the back of the bar where Stoner had just stepped outside.

Wayne was waiting for him just as Joey had reported, with two of the heavily muscled bruisers Wayne hired from time to time.

Grabbing Stoner as he stepped from the bar, Wayne threw him against the wall of the bar.

“Pack your shit and get out before I kill you!” Wayne rasped in the other man's face. “I'll make damned sure Amelia divorces you before you leave.”

“We have a deal, old man,” Stoner reminded him, his smug tone drifting clearly to Crowe.

“That deal didn't include using my daughter as your personal punching bag.”

“Well now, aren't you a fine one to talk,” Stoner sneered.

Before the younger man could go any farther Wayne buried his fist in his gut.

“Tonight, Stoner,” Wayne reminded him. “Or you'll wish you had.”

Leaving the younger man where he sank to the ground, gasping for air, Wayne and the other two slipped around the edge of the bar and left. Only then did Crowe move to Stoner, silently, deadly.

“Crazy old bastard.” Stoner moaned as he rose to his feet and stumbled toward the shadowed parking lot. “I'm not going any damned place.”

A second later a gasp left Stoner's lips as a force pinned him to the side of the pickup. A razor-sharp knife pressed cold and threateningly against his throat.

“You'll leave,” Crowe whispered at his ear, not caring if Stoner knew who he was or not.

“What?” Stoner's heart rate increased, fear echoing in his voice.

“You will leave tonight,” Crowe repeated. “If you don't, you'll face me. Wayne will just kill you, maybe. But Stoner, I'll make you suffer. Are we clear?”

“Clear,” Stoner wheezed. “We're clear.”

“And I'll be watching to make sure you do,” he promised, pulling back as quickly as he'd come upon the other man and disappearing into the shadows.

He watched as Stoner rubbed at his neck before rushing to his car, sliding in, and racing the few blocks to Wayne's house.

Crowe was just moving into place in the tree outside Amelia's bedroom balcony when Stoner slammed in.

Amelia had been sitting at the small writing desk and jumped to her feet. Before she could move more than a few feet, Stoner backhanded her across her face.

Crowe felt the growl that tore from his lips, drawing them into a snarl as he lifted the rifle he'd carried with him. He flipped on the laser sight just as Stoner gripped her neck and threw her against the wall.

The fear on her face horrified him. The tears that filled her eyes gave birth to a monster inside Crowe that he never wanted to feel again.

“Crowe Callahan visited me, bitch.” Crowe could hear him clearly through the opened balcony doors. “I hope he enjoys you while I'm gone. When I get back, I'll see how fast the Slasher returns once I start telling everyone how protective that bastard is over you. How long do you think it will take before I'm a widower?”

Centering his rifle, Crowe let the little red bead center first on Amelia's forehead, right between her eyes, just to be sure Stoner could see it. Then he moved it to the hand wrapped around her throat as he keyed Stoner's number into his cell phone.

The other man activated the Bluetooth he wore on the first ring, though he didn't release Amelia's neck from his grip.

“Do you really want to die?” Crowe questioned him silkily. “Have no doubt, Stoner, I really want to kill you.”

“I'm packing,” Stoner whispered, though his hold never loosened as Amelia began to claw at his fingers, her eyes widening helplessly.

“That bead on your hand means I can see you, you fucking bastard. Get your hands the fuck off her.”

Stoner released her immediately, paling as he turned, moving quickly to the closet and grabbing a bag he obviously kept packed.

Crowe could hear every word as Stoner cursed and raged.

“He has to leave sometime, bitch. When he does, you'll pay for tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice raw and thread.

“What or who do you think I'm talking about? Crowe Callahan, that's who.”

Amelia gave a bitter, pain-filled laugh that tightened Crowe's chest with regret.

“You're crazy, Stoner. Crowe couldn't give a damn whether you're here. Why don't you just go ahead and leave and stop making excuses. I didn't want you here to begin with.”

“Oh, I'm leaving, you little fucking Callahan whore. But I will be back. And when I get back, I'm going to make certain every man, woman, and child in this damned county knows you for the Callahan-fucker you are. How much do you want to bet the Slasher comes out of retirement just to make certain he gets a piece of you?”

Resignation vied with fear in Amelia's expression at the threat. “Better now than later,” she said tonelessly. “It beats the constant threats, Stoner. Between you and Wayne, I've really grown tired of them.”

In that moment Crowe knew Stoner would never live to see the morning light. Watching the other man slam from the room, he leaned back against the tree trunk and turned off the laser sight before sliding the rifle into the scabbard he'd slung over his back.

He'd wait just a bit, he decided. Just watch her for a few moments before he went after Stoner.

Moving shakily to the mirror hanging over her dresser, Amelia stared at the bruises that ringed her neck—livid red, already darkening to blue. Touching the marks, she let a strangled sob part her lips as her head bent, her fingers now gripping the edge of the dresser. God, how he needed to be there with her. To hold her rather than hiding and watching her hurt like this. The need was so brutal he had taken that first step on the heavy limb when her bedroom door opened again.

Crowe froze, watching, listening as Wayne stepped slowly into his daughter's bedroom. Dressed in his familiar black slacks and white shirt, he'd removed his tie, but had only pushed his glasses to the top of his thinning gray hair.

Amelia's expressive face was so completely expressionless now that Crowe could feel the fine hairs at the back of his neck lift warningly.

He had known she didn't trust her father, and he'd sensed she was frightened of him. This reaction had him tensing in preparation for danger, though.

“I'm sorry, Amelia,” Wayne sighed, shaking his head as she stared back him through the mirror. “I'll take care of this, I promise.”

She only nodded slightly.

What the fuck was going on here?

“You hate me,” Wayne said then, a grimace contorting his face. “I didn't know he was like this. I swear I didn't.”

“Would it have made a difference if you had?” she asked him. Crowe could hear what Wayne obviously didn't recognize.

Pure hatred. And he saw something else.

Amelia had clasped her hands in front of her, twining her fingers together. It was a sure sign she was preparing her entire body to lie. Her expression, her stance, her muscle tone, right to her eyes. Every part of her body followed the lies her lips spilled. Every part of her except her hands. And it amazed him that no one else realized it. No one else even noticed it.

“I would have done anything to keep you safe, Amelia.” The sincerity in his tone would have caused Crowe to pause if it weren't for the fact that Amelia so distrusted him.

She did not distrust without good reason.

She drew in a deep breath, giving a smile that sent a chill racing up Crowe's spine. That smile was so soft, so forgiving … and her fingers were twisted together so tightly they were white.

“I understand,” she told him. “I understand.”

She was lying through her teeth.

What the fuck was going on here and what did Wayne think he was saving her from?

“Good then,” Wayne nodded, his hands lifting to her shoulders, his head bending to place a kiss at the top of her head. “Good night, sweetheart, and I promise you, Stoner will not be back.”

Releasing his hold on her shoulders, Wayne turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Suddenly Amelia's shoulders heaved. Her hand clapped over her mouth and she rushed for the connecting bathroom.

Crowe could hear her retching from the bathroom, the violence of the sounds causing him to clench his fists to hold himself back from going to her. He knew his training and he knew the woman who filled his heart. And both were telling him something was very wrong.