Renegade Alpha (ALPHA 5) (3 page)

If they could ever get Callie to tell them what the problem was, that is.

Maybe he should just leave the talking to Seth? She seemed more at ease with the other man, and there was no doubting Seth liked what he saw, holding her arm and helping her to sit before offering her a cup of tea, like a regular Florence Fucking Nightingale.

Lijah gave a disgusted snort, that snort turning to a scowl as Callie gave him a questioning glance.

He tried to think what age she would be now. Twenty-four? Twenty-five? A woman grown, and old enough, would seem to be the answer.

“Where’s Peter, Callie?” he prompted abruptly. “And no prevaricating this time. Just tell us where he is.”

The long arch of her throat moved as she swallowed before answering him huskily. “I don’t know.”

Lijah felt the scowl appear between his eyes. “Explain.”

Callie already knew Lijah Smith to be a man of few words. But what few words he did speak were succinct and to the point. And he was right, her father’s whereabouts
was
the point.

She drew in a shaky breath. “I believe he flew to America a week ago.”

“You believe?”

Her jaw tightened. “Yes. I tried to confirm it, but the airlines aren’t willing to give out that sort of information,” she added awkwardly as Lijah just continued to look at her.

“I thought the two of you were close?”

“We are,” she came back defensively.

“But you haven’t spoken to him in a week, and he didn’t tell you where he was going?”

“No.”

“But you now believe he’s in America?”

“Yes.”

“Why?

“Because—“ She broke off abruptly to bite her trembling bottom lip.
 

Lijah breathed heavily. “Look, I’m sure you will have gathered by now I’m not the most patient of men on a good day—”

“Cut her some slack, man,” Seth Armstrong advised softly. “Can’t you see she’s on the verge of breaking?”

Callie shot him another grateful glance only to push back against the chair after turning and seeing the fierceness of Lijah’s expression. As if he wasn’t happy about the brief moment of understanding that had passed between her and the other man…?

Well, that was just too bad, because right now Callie needed someone to be understanding and kind to her. Traits Lijah Smith obviously didn’t possess. “Maybe I should come back later when you’re less…tired?”

“And maybe you should just stop avoiding answering my fucking questions—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Seth Armstrong moved to once again stand between Callie and Lijah. “Back off, man.” He placed his hand firmly on the other man’s chest.

Lijah didn’t move an inch as he towered over Callie, a nerve pulsing a warning in his tightly clenched jaw. “I’ll back off when she tells us why in hell she bothered coming here if she isn’t willing to tell us the reason why she’s so worried about Peter!”

Seth gave a glance over his shoulder at her. “He does have a point,” he prompted gently.

She sighed. “Yes, he does,” she acknowledged wearily, turning away so that she no longer had to look at either man as she gathered her thoughts together. “The…the reason my father took early retirement was so that he could be with me.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Seth turned, obviously concerned. “Are you sick?”

“Not in the way you mean, no. I was— Someone— I was attacked six months ago and beaten up rather badly.” She pressed her lips tightly together to stop them from trembling. “My father came home as soon as he knew, and—and then he stayed home. To be with me.”

“Jesus Christ…” Lijah muttered under his breath as his imagination took the natural leap.

“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong,” Callie said quickly. “I wasn’t raped, just beaten.”

The relief of knowing that was totally nullified by the air of bleakness now surrounding her. Lijah had seen that expression before, on the faces of men who had been into battle—and lost.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Seth prompted gently.

She moistened the dryness of her lips. “I worked in an art gallery in London at the time.”

“But not anymore?”

“No,” she answered Seth.

Callie had spent several days in hospital after the attack, and after she’d been discharged, she knew she couldn’t return to the life she’d had…before, as if nothing had changed.

Everything
had changed.
She
had changed most of all. Michael was dead, her world was shattered, as well as her confidence in who or what she was. All wiped out in one night of violence.

“Six months ago…” Lijah repeated slowly. “Are we talking about the Hammond Gallery incident?”

If Callie needed any confirmation of this man’s rapier intelligence—which she didn’t—then he’d just given it.

The Hammond Gallery incident
.

How innocent that sounded, innocuous even, when in reality it was anything but.

“What happened, Callie?” Lijah probed.

She moistened the dryness of her lips. “You obviously read about it in the newspapers.”

“I’m asking
you
what happened, God damn it—”

“Lijah, don’t,” Seth warned.

Lijah turned to glare, only to receive a warning shake of the other man’s head before Seth stepped forward to place a gently reassuring hand on Callie’s shoulder. Which was when Lijah saw the tears tracking silently down her pallid cheeks, those bruised blue eyes now pained and unfocused.

The events of that night at the Hammond Gallery had been all over the front page of the newspapers for days after it happened.

But nowhere in any of them did Lijah remember seeing it mentioned that a Caroline Morgan had been involved. And yet the things she had already said implied that in some way she was.

“Tell us in your own time, Callie,” Seth now encouraged gruffly.

She drew in a shuddering breath. “There was a gala opening at the gallery that evening, over five hundred guests invited to an invitation-only showing of the Felix Griffith jewelry collection. I was actually an assistant restorer there, but everyone who worked at the gallery was expected to come in and help out that evening.”

“And?” Lijah bit out tensely. The whole world knew of the priceless jewelry collection belonging to American multibillionaire Felix Griffith. Mainly because it had been stolen after that single private showing at the Hammond Gallery.

She sighed. “The evening went off without a hitch. Everyone who worked there agreed the exhibition was a resounding success.”

Again with that flat, emotionless voice.

Lijah’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had barely known this grown-up Callie for ten minutes and already he wanted to punch something—or someone; preferably whoever had reduced this young woman to this state. God knew how Peter must have been feeling about this all these months.

“We all stayed behind to help move and secure the jewelry collection in the safe downstairs, and afterwards, Michael—Michael Hammond, the owner of the gallery, gave us all a glass of champagne to—to celebrate the evening’s success.” Her mouth firmed. “Then people slowly began to drift away and go home, until there was only Michael and myself left.”

Lijah studied her between narrowed lids. “The two of you were together…?”

That delicate throat moved as she swallowed. “We—we’d been dating for a couple of months.” Her voice shook with emotion as she talked of the other man. “I— We— Michael was waiting to turn on the security system until after I’d gone upstairs to collect my jacket from the staff room. I was halfway up the stairs when someone knocked on the front door. Michael stepped out into the gallery to see who it was and then came back to tell me to go ahead and get my jacket, that it was just one of the guests who had left something behind.” Tears welled up and once again spilled unchecked over long dark lashes and down her cheeks. “He was only thirty-three.” She looked up at the two men. “He didn’t deserve to die in that way.”

Lijah recalled the newspapers had reported the owner of the Hammond Gallery had been shot in the head at point-blank range.

Which begged the question: was it possible Michael Hammond had been killed, his brains blown out, in front of Callie?

The shock Lijah could see in her eyes seemed to indicate that he had.

She drew in a shaky breath. “I returned from collecting my jacket and could see through the office door that Michael was tied to the chair behind his desk. When I rushed into the room to—to help him, something hard hit me over the back of the head, and I blacked out.” She was visibly shaking.

“Take your time, Callie.” Seth was once again the one to encourage gently.

 
She gave him a grateful smile. “When I came to, my hands and feet were also tied to a chair, and something was thrown over my head and tied tightly about my throat so I couldn’t see. I learned later that it was my own jacket.” She shook her head. “I could hear raised voices, one of them Michael’s, the other one—I didn’t recognize the other voice, only that it was American.”

Was that voice the reason she now believed Peter had gone to America? Lijah recalled the man/men responsible for the killing and robbery had never been caught.

“Was this man alone?” Seth probed.

A frown creased Callie’s brow. “It felt as if there were others in the room, but no one else spoke, just that one man. He wanted the combination to the safe, Michael was refusing to give it to him, which was when—when he, the American, decided it was a good idea to use me as leverage to force Michael to talk.” She gave a shudder at the memory.

Lijah could easily guess what that leverage might have been. He could see by the killer glint in Seth’s eyes that he was thinking the same thing.

“He—the man began to punch and hit me. Michael started shouting, but I pleaded with him not to tell the other man what he wanted to know. I’m not sure how long the beating lasted.” She spoke dully. “I know that I hurt everywhere by the time he finished, especially my ribs. I learned later that two of them were broken. I could taste the blood in my mouth and feel it dripping down my chin from where my lip was split open. Michael became more and more agitated the longer the beating went on, but I kept pleading with him not to tell them the combination of the safe.”

“It was just jewelry.” Seth gave a pained wince.

“It was—was Michael’s livelihood too, his reputation—”

“You don’t die for a reputation,” Lijah growled. “You give the bastard what he wants, wait until the fucker isn’t expecting it, and then you strike back.” As he suspected Peter was now doing; God knew how the older man had managed to keep this to himself all these months.

“We aren’t all the impenetrable Lijah Smith!” she came back with some of her earlier fire.

Lijah gave a hard, unapologetic smile as he saw the light of battle returning to Callie’s expressive eyes.

She turned away from that smile. “The man must have realized that he was running out of time because—he ripped open the front of my dress and began to—to touch me.” She clenched her trembling hands together, the knuckles white. “There was a security company keeping watch on the place from outside, as well as the alarm system inside, and I thought it would only be a matter of time before those men outside realized we hadn’t left yet and something must be wrong.”

Lijah stored that piece of information away for further investigation. If he’d been in control of the security at the gallery, he would have ensured there were men inside as well as out. He wondered why this other security company hadn’t. In on the job? Or just fucking incompetent? He would know which by the end of the day.

“Michael had seen enough,” she revealed heavily. “He gave the man the combination to the safe. My head was still covered, I couldn’t see what was happening, but I heard the men leaving the room to go down to the basement to the safe. Michael was—he kept telling me, reassuring me that everything was going to be okay. That the men would take what they wanted and then leave. I heard them come back just minutes later and—and then there was the sound of a gun being fired, and Michael—Michael stopped talking.” Her face had now taken on a gray tinge.

“He recognized and knew the name of the main man,” Lijah bit out harshly. “He’d also seen the faces of the others and could identify them.”

“Yes,” she confirmed softly.

“Michael never called the other man by his name?”

She shook her head. “I think he must have been warned not to before I came back from collecting my jacket.”

Thank God. Lijah had absolutely no doubt that if Callie had known the identity of Michael Hammond’s murderer, then they wouldn’t be having this conversation now. Because she would be dead too.

“There was no mention in any of the newspapers of a woman being present that night…?” Seth prompted slowly.

“Because I was the only witness the police had, and they didn’t want to compromise that advantage by revealing my presence or name to the press. Not that I was of much help anyway,” she added self-disgustedly. “All I could tell them was the man who killed Michael was American.”

“A man who was also a guest at the gala that evening.”