The Legend Page 15

  “You’ll give them what they want,” Mia pointed out. “All of you in one place.”

  “She is right,” Yuri said.

  Orrin looked at Cullen. “What do you think?”

  “I think my brothers are going to need us, but the Saints will expect us to head there.”

  Orrin smiled as they reached the vehicle because he realized what Cullen was thinking. “What do you suggest then?”

  Cullen’s lips twisted as he shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps a visit to Hewett.”

  “Yes,” Mia said and opened the back driver’s side door to climb into the SUV.

  Yuri nodded, smiling as he got into the back passenger side.

  Orrin met Cullen’s hazel eyes. This was what he’d always wanted—to work with his sons. He hated how it had come about, but he was going to enjoy every minute he had.

  The past would still need to be discussed, but for now, he had his youngest with him. He would bask in every second of it while they took down as many Saints as they could.

  “How long do you think we have until the Saints attack the ranch?” Yuri asked once they were on the road.

  Cullen’s lips flattened. “A day. Two at the most.”

  “Every second we’re here will mean added time on the way to Texas,” Orrin said. “But Cullen’s right. We need to do damage while we can.”

  Mia said, “I can get us there in half the time. Provided you can find me something to fly.”

  Orrin smiled as he turned to look at her. “Then we’ll find you something to fly.”

  “I think I know someone who can help,” Yuri said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Dammit, Wyatt, stay still,” grumbled a male voice.

  Callie tried to open her eyes, but the harsh light blinded her. Pain shot through her, and all she wanted to do was go back to the blessed darkness and escape it.

  But there was Wyatt.

  “Just pull the fucking thing out,” Wyatt snapped.

  Pull what out? Callie heard the agony in his voice.

  “Perhaps I should knock your ass out. It’d make my life easier.”

  Owen. That was Owen’s voice. So, they’d made it to the ranch. She was relieved. Though she didn’t know how they had gotten there. The day was a blur of pain and Wyatt forcing water down her throat.

  Then the attack. It was the sound of bullets that had jarred her back to consciousness. When she’d come to and found Wyatt in a struggle with another man, she’d tried to call out a warning. Then she’d seen the pistol.

  Grabbing it and lifting the weapon to shoot had cost her a great deal of energy. She’d tried to remain awake to talk to Wyatt afterward, but her body hadn’t listened.

  “If you don’t take it out now, I’m going to punch you,” Wyatt complained.

  Owen ground out between clenched teeth, “Then be still.”

  Callie turned her head in the direction of their voices. She cracked open her eyes to see Wyatt sitting backward on a chair with Owen peering closely at something on his back.

  “You should tend to Callie first,” Wyatt said.

  Owen shook his head. “Her bleeding is controlled. Yours isn’t.”

  “I don’t care about mi—” Wyatt began.

  She licked her lips and said, “Wyatt.”

  It came out as more of a whisper than a shout, but it must have been loud enough because, suddenly, his gold eyes were focused on her. She saw cuts and bruises from the fights all over his face and hands, but he looked gorgeous to her.

  “Hey, Callie,” Natalie said as she came to sit on the edge of the cot. “How are you feeling?”

  Like shit, but she didn’t say it. Callie kept her gaze on Wyatt. His hands were fisted, and a muscle jumped in his temple. He was hurting. She wanted to help him, to ease him.

  “Callie?” Natalie repeated.

  She finally nodded, hoping that would be enough for Nat because talking was too much trouble.

  “Son of a bitch!” Owen bellowed as he straightened and wiped the back of his arm across his brow.

  Another man appeared. He was in black tactical gear and had the look of military about him. But that was all Callie noticed because she refused to look away from Wyatt.

  The new guest stood at Wyatt’s head and put his hands on Wyatt’s shoulders, pushing down at the same time Owen bent and returned to his work. There were tense seconds of silence. Callie watched sweat roll down the side of Wyatt’s face, and his knuckles go white, as he held her gaze.

  But he didn’t move.

  Finally, Owen held up the long tweezers and showed off the bullet “It’s out.”

  “Good,” Wyatt snapped. “Now, get it stitched and bandage it.”

  “You should rest,” the guest said.

  In response, Wyatt shrugged off the man’s hold. Then he gave her a nod. It was his small way of letting her know he was all right. Callie gave him a smile in return.

  As soon as the stitching was done and a bandage in place, Wyatt rose and walked to her. Natalie quickly got out of the way. To Callie’s surprise, he took her hand. She hadn’t even realized she held it out to him, but the instant his warm fingers wrapped around hers, she was able to breathe easier.

  “You finally decided to wake?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

  Since when was Wyatt playful? Never. But she liked it—and the crooked smile that accompanied his words. “I thought you could use the challenge.”

  “I was up for it.” His smile faded, replaced by a small frown. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  “I won’t.”

  He squeezed her hand and cleared his throat before raking a hand through his hair and glancing over his shoulder. “Callie, I’d like you to meet Maks. He helped us against the Saints.”

  “Hi, Maks,” she said, smiling up at him.

  He gave a tilt of his head. “Ma’am.” Then Maks looked at Wyatt. “I’m going to take a look around outside.”

  After he departed, Owen came to the other side of the cot while wiping his freshly washed hands on a towel. “I can check your injuries now.”

  “I’ll do it,” Wyatt said.

  Owen shook his head at his brother in frustration. “It’s nice to see you, Callie. Let me know if you get tired of his bossy ass.”

  Natalie gave a wave before following Owen out of the room, leaving Callie alone with Wyatt. Her gaze lifted to his to find him staring at her.

  “You scared me.”

  His admission surprised her. “I didn’t think anything frightened you.”

  “You did.”

  “So you do feel things.”

  “I feel everything.”

  She wasn’t sure what to think of that confession, especially given what she knew of him. She’d been sure nothing got past the thick walls around his heart. Had she been wrong all these years?

  He swallowed and glanced at their joined hands. “I should change your bandages and look at the wounds. I did a hasty job of stitching you up. I’m afraid you’ll have some ugly scars.”

  “I’m alive. Scars will be a reminder of what we fought—and won.”

  She wished she knew what he was thinking. She couldn’t read those gold eyes as he stared at her for a long, silent minute. Then he rose and turned to gather supplies.

  That’s when she got her first good look at his back. There was still dried blood on his skin and arm and a large, white bandage over his right shoulder blade.

  He didn’t bother with a shirt as he returned to her and spread out clean bandages and tape. It wasn’t until he pulled down the blanket that she realized her clothes were gone and she was in nothing but her bra and panties.

  Then she noticed the bag hanging on the other side of her, feeding her saline to battle her dehydration.

  She watched as Wyatt gently peeled back the bandage on her right side and began to clean it before inspecting the wound. His touch was soft, tender. Just as he’d been when they made love.

  “What are you thin
king that has you looking at me so?” he queried.

  She blinked and quickly looked away at having been caught. “How was I looking at you?”

  “As if you don’t know me.”

  “I don’t.”

  His hands paused as he met her gaze. “You do.”

  “Do I? I thought I did once. You proved I didn’t.”

  “You know me,” he insisted.

  She mulled his words over for a moment. “I think I’ve only known a part of you. Have you ever let anyone in to know your deepest secrets?”

  Wyatt was silent for a long time as he finished bandaging her. Then he said, “Yes.”

  The jealousy and resentment that filled her were swift and instantaneous. Who was this woman who had gotten inside his heart when she couldn’t? Callie wanted to meet her so she could find out what it took.

  “It was you.”

  His words knocked the breath from her more forcefully than if she’d been kicked by a horse. She slowly lifted her gaze to him and shook her head.

  Their conversation was halted when Owen called out to them before he entered the back room. She turned her head away when Wyatt moved around to her other side to check her neck.

  Owen whistled as he came to stand beside the cot and saw the wound. “That one could’ve killed you, Callie.”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled.

  Wyatt’s fingers grazed her skin, sending chills over her. “She’s too quick for that.”

  Callie saw Owen’s confused looked as he frowned at Wyatt. She was just as puzzled by Wyatt’s odd behavior. The curt, angry Wyatt seemed to have been shut away in a closet.

  But she’d seen this side of him before. It was always pleasant while it lasted, but it never stayed around long. She knew full well how much it hurt when his brusque nature returned, and how he could cut someone in half with just a look.

  She winced when he pressed too hard on her wound.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  It wasn’t his words that caused her stomach to clench. It was the way he caressed down her neck. It was a lover’s touch, one that struck her right to her soul.

  Owen scratched the side of his nose as he looked between the two of them. “I thought you both should know that more Saints are arriving. Those cameras you had us install have done wonders, Callie.”

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  Wyatt asked, “How many Saints?”

  “Twenty,” Owen replied.

  “Four for each of us,” Callie said as she tried to rise.

  But Wyatt kept her in place. He gave her a stern look. “You’re not doing anything but staying in bed and resting.”

  “I can still shoot. If you forget, I saved your ass out there,” she argued.

  “I’ve not forgotten. But I was also the one who carried you around the entire day because you were unconscious.”

  Owen twisted his lips in regret before he said, “Wyatt’s right. You should remain here.”

  It was the last thing she wanted to do. Yet she didn’t have the strength to shove off Wyatt’s hand. Which meant she would be confined to the bed for a little while longer.

  “Are they making any approach to us?” Wyatt asked.

  Owen shook his head. “Not yet. It’s only a matter of time though.”

  “Everyone needs to get to the house,” Callie said. “If they see any of you remain in the barn, they’re going to guess the base is here.”

  Wyatt sat back as he finished with the dressing. “I hate to say it, but she’s right. This base has to remain secret because of Ragnarok.”

  “That damn bioweapon,” Owen said angrily. “I want to destroy it.”

  They all did, but until they learned how to find a cure for whatever it did, they had to keep it—and make sure it stayed out of the hands of the Saints.

  No small order.

  Callie liked that Wyatt remained near her. She listened as he and Owen talked about the various ways they could battle the Saints from the house—a residence that was still torn up from the last time they’d defended it.

  She didn’t pull away when Wyatt’s fingers touched her arm as if by accident. But he didn’t move away. Then his hand shifted closer to hers so gradually that she thought it was her imagination until their fingers made contact.

  Her gaze jerked to him, but Wyatt’s focus was on Owen. Maybe he didn’t know what he was doing. Owen certainly hadn’t noticed.

  Or maybe it was all in her head.

  She felt her eyes growing heavy, but she fought against it. There was so much she’d missed while unconscious. She didn’t want to miss out on any more.

  “Don’t fight it,” Wyatt’s voice whispered in her ear.

  When had her eyes closed? She forced them open to find that Owen was gone. Wyatt’s hand was stroking her hair in a soothing motion that had her drifting off to sleep once more.

  Even as she entered the dream world, she felt his lips on her forehead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Wyatt watched Callie for a few more minutes before he rose and left her to sleep. When he walked into the main area of the base, Owen was waiting for him.

  He walked past his brother without pausing. There was no need. Owen wanted to talk about Callie, and Wyatt didn’t. It should be the end of it. Except that was never the case with Owen.

  “Walking away won’t stop my questions,” Owen said.

  Wyatt made his way to a locker of tactical gear. He grabbed fresh clothes and turned on his heel toward the bathroom.

  “Go take your shower,” Owen called. “I’ll be waiting. Wait. Wyatt, your bandage.”

  The bandage could be replaced. He needed a shower. Wyatt closed the door and turned on the water. Steam began to fill the room as he hurriedly took off his clothes coated with blood and dirt. Once beneath the spray, he closed his eyes and let the weight he’d been carrying fall from his shoulders.

  Callie was now getting the treatment she needed. He’d feel better if she was at a hospital, but he didn’t trust anyone there. Thank God his father had stocked the base with everything needed for bullet and knife wounds.

  All he could do now was pray that Callie didn’t have internal bleeding.

  He pulled off the bandage and scrubbed the grime of the past hours from his body. The pull of his injury reminded him that he’d be going into battle less than healthy. If he showed the Saints any hint of weakness, they would take advantage of it—just as he would if the roles were reversed.

  Once he was finished washing up, he shut off the shower and dried off. He put on all the clothes except the shirt. When he opened the door, Owen was there, holding a fresh bandage in his hand.

  Wyatt sighed and turned his back to his brother so the bandage could be applied.

  Owen left his hand over the bandage, applying just enough pressure to cause discomfort. “I saw the way you looked at Callie.”

  He stepped away from Owen and put on his shirt, facing his brother. His gaze landed on Owen, his expression full of annoyance. “I thought you had a question, not a statement.”

  “I could tell something happened between the two of you years ago. Am I wrong?”

  Wyatt glanced away. “No.”

  “What happened?”

  “She got too close.”

  Owen’s jaw went slack. “Are you saying you fell in love with her?”

  “No,” he stated. No one could know how deeply he’d fallen for Callie. If they did, they would hound him relentlessly.

  He wanted to stay with Callie, to hold her in his arms every day for the rest of his life, but it wasn’t part of his destiny. The course for him had been set the day his mother had been murdered.

  There was no room in his life for softness—or for anyone that could destroy him if taken away violently as his mother had been.

  “You came close,” Owen said. “Admit it.”

  Wyatt walked around him to the steps up into the barn. “Let it go.”

  “Why, after what I saw? There is something be
tween you. I always said there was a thin line between love and hate.” Owen chuckled, following.

  Wyatt met Maks’s gaze as he walked toward his friend. He hoped that Owen would stop with his inane talk with Maks there. Wyatt should’ve known better.

  “There’s some serious chemistry between you two,” Owen said.

  Maks then added, “He wouldn’t let me carry Callie despite his wound. Walked the entire way here, bleeding with her in his arms.”

  Owen raised a brow as his gaze shifted to him. Wyatt shook his head at both men and tried to ignore them as he turned to look out the door. If he didn’t answer, maybe they would give up.

  “That says a lot, brother,” Owen stated.

  Maks nodded. “Mmmhmm. It sure does.”

  “I think he cares more than he wants to admit.”

  “Definitely. He nearly took my head off when I offered to carry her.”

  Wyatt had heard enough. He faced them as he fought to keep his voice even so they wouldn’t know how much their words had riled him. “She was my responsibility. I’d gotten her this far, I wanted to bring her all the way in.”

  “It’s more than that,” Maks said, all of the teasing gone from his voice.

  Owen crossed his arms over his chest, serious, as well. “Why can’t you just admit it?”

  “Let it go. For everyone’s sake, especially Callie’s, let it go.” Wyatt walked away from them to the paddock where some horses were being kept. He slowly climbed over the fence and walked to one of them.

  Being forced back to the ranch reminded him of his love of horses. He held out his hand and waited for one of the animals to come to him.

  A paint with a black and white coat was the first to approach him. The paints had always been his mother’s favorites, and he was happy to see that Orrin still kept some around. He rubbed the filly’s neck, scratching behind her ears while she stood patiently.

  Horses had always soothed him. Whenever he’d been angry about something, Orrin would send him to the barn to muck out the stalls, feed the horses, or brush them. And by the time Wyatt was finished, whatever problem plagued him was gone. After that, he began to go to the horses on his own.

  Except the problem he had now couldn’t be fixed. It had been with him for years. Fifteen lonely years, dreaming of a woman he could never have.