Profile Durango. Carla Cassidy
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him.
“The Bureau is concerned about you. With Julie’s murder and now the fire, we think you need protection.” He watched her features intently. The only sign of her displeasure was her lush lips pressing thinly together.
He’d once believed he knew her thoughts almost before she knew them herself, but that had been a lifetime and many mistakes ago.
“They think it’s Del Gardo?” There was a faint weariness to her tone.
He nodded. Vincent Del Gardo was head of the Del Gardo crime family based in Las Vegas. Three years earlier when Del Gardo was on trial for ordering a hit on a competing crime boss, Callie had testified against him. She’d been placed in protective custody and Tom had been assigned to protect her.
The trial had lasted months and eventually he and Callie had become lovers. It was a relationship Tom had ended when he’d taken an assignment working undercover in Mexico.
Del Gardo had been found guilty but had escaped from the courthouse before serving any time. He’d recently been tracked to Kenner City and was now a suspect in Julie Grainger’s murder.
“I thought it was over when I left Las Vegas,” Callie said more to herself than to him. “I’d hoped he’d gotten out of the country, was living the good life on some foreign soil far away from me.”
“But you know Julie had tracked him to that mountain estate not far from here,” Tom replied.
She nodded. “I know the man supposedly living there is named Griffin Vaughn, but Julie had discovered that the corporation that owned the property was a front for Del Gardo.”
“We’re hoping to get inside the place over the next day or two and have a look around. Callie, men like Del Gardo don’t forget or forgive. Your testimony helped get him a sentence that would have seen him behind bars for the rest of his life.”
“I know.” She raised a hand to the side of her head and rubbed her temple as if to ease a headache.
“Sheriff Martinez told me you had a close call last week, too, that you were nearly the victim of a hit-and-run.” A rise of emotion shoved against his chest at the thought of how close she’d come to death—not once, but twice.
“It was nothing, just a close call by a driver on his cell phone.” Although her eyes remained cool, there was a slight tremor in her voice that let him know she didn’t quite believe her own words. “Those things should be outlawed when driving.”
Despite the fact that he could smell the smoke that lingered on her skin, in her hair, he could also smell the faint scent of the gardenia skin lotion she’d always used in the place of perfume.
It evoked images of her soft, perfumed skin beneath his hand, of the throaty moans that once escaped her when they made love.
He parked those particular memories in the dark recesses of his mind, knowing that it was useless to dwell on what had once been.
“I’m not here to talk about cell phones. I’m here to talk about the fact that you were almost struck by a car last week and just last night somebody set a fire that might have killed you if a coworker hadn’t suffered a bout of insomnia. Has Del Gardo tried in any way to make contact with you recently?” he asked, focusing on duty. “Have you received any strange phone calls or anything like that?”
“No, nothing.” Once again she rubbed her temple. “You never answered my question.”
He frowned. “What question?”
“What are you doing here, Tom?”
“As I said before, the FBI is concerned about you and they want you back in protective custody. That’s why I’m here.” He waited for the explosion and she didn’t disappoint him.
“You have got to be kidding me.” She pressed the button that raised the upper part of her bed so she could glare at him more efficiently. “I’d rather be in the care of a rattlesnake.”
Tom winced. “Callie, I know you aren’t exactly thrilled to welcome me back into your life again, but I’ve been assigned to you and you and I just have to figure out how to make the best of it.”
She started to say something and then snapped her mouth closed and drew several deep breaths, obviously composing herself. Tom knew from past experience that under most circumstances Callista MacBride was the queen of cool composure.
“Okay, then the way we make the best of it is to do things my way,” she finally said.
He got up from the chair and instead leaned against the wall with his hands shoved into his slacks pockets. “And what does that mean?”
“Absolutely no safe house. I stay at my own home and continue my schedule as usual.”
“You know that makes it more difficult for me,” he replied with a frown. It would be so much easier to keep her safe if she was tucked away in a remote cottage someplace and not going about her normal routine.
“That’s not my problem.” There was a cold frost of determination in her eyes. “I’m working several important cases right now and I’m not going to be stuck away somewhere until Del Gardo is found.”
“What else?” he asked.
She coughed for a moment and then continued. “We keep this strictly professional. You don’t pry into my personal life and I certainly don’t care about yours.”
“Are you through?” He pulled his hands from his pockets and shoved off the wall.
“For now.” She closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. “I’m tired now. Go away, Tom.”
“I’ll go for now, but I’ll be back when you’re ready to be released from here.” She didn’t open her eyes or acknowledge him in any way.
Tom grabbed his coat from the chair then walked to the door. He stood for a moment, gazing at the woman he’d walked—no, ran—from almost three years ago.
He’d known that she loved him and yet he’d turned his back on her. It was no wonder that she hated him now. What she couldn’t know is just how much Tom hated himself for the choices he had made.
He finally turned and left the room with the taste of rich regret lingering in his mouth.
Chapter Two
There were still times Callie desperately missed her mother, who had been dead for five years. She and her mom, Belinda, had been unusually close. Belinda had been a Las Vegas showgirl, a job she’d continued for years after Callie had been born.
Some of Callie’s fondest memories of her mother were of Callie sitting on the bed watching as Belinda applied her stage makeup before going to the casino to perform.
Those had been magical moments between mother and daughter when they’d talked about anything and everything. Nobody had been more proud than Belinda when Callie had told her she wanted to be a forensic scientist.
Although Belinda had enjoyed her share of flashy boyfriends, Callie had never known who her father was. Belinda quit her showgirl job when Callie was in middle school, but money never seemed to be an issue. They certainly didn’t live a lavish lifestyle, but they had always been comfortable.
When Callie asked about the money, Belinda had told her that Callie’s father had left Belinda enough money so she and Callie would have what they needed. Callie had guessed from that statement that her father was dead.
As she sat on the edge of the hospital bed and waited for the nurse to bring the papers to release her, she wished she could pick up the phone and call her mom. She wished she could tell her that the man who had devastated her was back in her life.
Tom.
His very name brought forth a combination of memories, some filled with joy but others filled with an indescribable