Callum (Blue Halo Book 7)

The smell of coffee was strong and had Fiona’s eyes shooting open. Last night had been rough. She’d barely said two words on the drive home, then she’d gone straight to bed.

Shock. She’d been in complete and utter shock, barely able to process everything that had been revealed to her. Her family wasn’t related to her by blood. Her birth mother was a deceased drug addict. And she possibly had an identical twin sister impersonating her for unknown reasons.

God, her life was a mess.

She groaned and closed her eyes, rolling to her side. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed long enough, reality would shift back into something familiar that made sense.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. She popped one eye open to see Callum stepping in. The other popped open at the sight of the coffee in his hands. Thank God. There was no getting through this day without caffeine.

He didn’t smile as he set the coffee onto the bedside table and perched beside her. He just studied her like he was worried she’d have a mental breakdown or fall into a heap on the floor…neither of which were out of the realm of possibility.

His hand went to her hip. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused. Angry. Like I woke up a completely different person from who I was yesterday.” Which she kind of had. She wasn’t Fiona Lock, not genetically.

“I’m sorry.”

She found a crease in his jeans and traced it with her finger. “I feel bad that I left my parents in such a rush.”

Yes, she knew her actions were warranted, but the sadness in their faces, and fear, as if they thought they were going to lose her… They weren’t. They should have been honest with her, but she still loved them.

“It will take time to mend things,” he said quietly.

She wrapped her fingers around his powerful thigh. “Thank you. For being with me. For not making me talk about any of it last night.”

His silent companionship had been everything she’d needed.

“I’m here for whatever you need.” He tilted his head. “Are you going to work today?”

“I texted Rick last night that I was sick.” She wasn’t one to call in, but she’d regretted not taking time off the day after the incident in the library, so today, she was doing the right thing for her mental health. The man had been far from happy, but she barely used her sick days, so he’d have to deal with it.

Callum watched her carefully. “I was going to go into the office for a quick meeting, but—”

“No, no. If you need to go to the office, you go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. You’ve got top-notch security and locks. Besides, I’ve been eyeing your huge bathtub since I first saw it. I could use a little time in there to digest it all.”

Ha. Like she could do that in one bath. She’d probably need a few years’ worth.

“A bath?” His hand slid up her thigh. “Maybe I should come home early and join you.”

She chuckled. It felt good to laugh. “I don’t think any digesting would happen if you did that.”

He would be one big, hard distraction.

She swallowed. “Hey, I’ve been thinking that maybe those texts I’ve been getting are from this…sister?” God, that was hard to say. “I mean, if she’s been impersonating me, she’s clearly got issues.”

Maybe she was even insane?

He slid some hair from her face. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

“Well, at least that’s just one person gunning for me instead of two!” She meant to inflect humor into her words, but Callum didn’t even smile.

“I’m going to look into your birth mother today,” he said slowly. “See if I can find anything about a second baby.”

Her belly gave a little turn. “Okay. Thank you.”

“I won’t be long.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She wanted to pull him into bed, still the moment and make it last a bit longer, because around him, she still felt like herself. Too soon, he straightened. “Call if you need anything.”

She didn’t get up as soon as he left. Instead, she grabbed her phone to see a string of messages. From her mother and father. There were also some from Stacey.

Lying back, she sucked in a long breath before responding to each text, telling everyone she was okay. That she had Callum to help her through it and just needed some time to process. And that she loved them. Because she did. Her parents had risked a lot to keep her. If they hadn’t, what would have happened to her? Would she have been tossed into the foster care system? God, she would have lived a completely different life.

The responses were instant, which told her they’d been sitting on their phones, waiting for her to reply. She’d already texted Jenny that morning to let her friend know she might get a call from Rick to fill her shift. She hadn’t shared why she wasn’t coming in, just that she wasn’t feeling the best and was staying with Callum, both of which were true.

When her phone finally stopped buzzing, she pushed up, her gaze catching on the coffee.

Hello, how did I forget about you?

Almost desperately, she reached for the mug and basically inhaled the stuff. Yep, it was exactly what she needed.

In the bathroom, she turned on the tap. While the bath filled, she pulled her hair up into a bun. The bumps on her head felt better every day, but there was still a slight ache there. At least she couldn’t see the damage.

What would Callum find today? That she did have a sister? A sister who looked exactly like her?

A twin…that was like having half of yourself exist in the world, one that you knew nothing about. But if this woman was impersonating Fiona, then what was her end game? Why hadn’t she just come and spoken to her?

Those were questions she needed answers to.

She tugged Callum’s shirt over her head, then slid into the tub. The water was warm on her cool skin, and she instantly sank deep below the surface. Heaven. Well, as close to heaven as she was going to get today.

Grabbing her phone, she turned on some music, then just relaxed, giving herself permission to not think about the train wreck that was her life.

She lay there so long, the water was cooling when the doorbell rang downstairs. She planned to ignore it, but a second later, the pounding of a fist on wood started—followed by the distant screams of a woman.

She jackknifed into a seated position, water splashing out of the tub onto the tiles. Jesus, who was that?

Quickly, she climbed out of the tub, dried, and threw pants and a top from yesterday over her damp skin. The pounding continued the entire way down the stairs.

She looked through the peephole to see the neighbor, Kasey, on the other side of the door. Her eyes were wide, and she was holding her stomach. Fiona’s gaze lowered.

Oh God…was that blood seeping through her fingers? And through her fingers, Fiona could see what appeared to be the handle of a knife still penetrating her flesh.

Without thinking about anything but the injured woman, she tugged the door open. “Kasey!”

The woman’s eyes flashed up. “H-help!”

The second the word was out of her mouth, something hit Kasey in the neck.

A dart.

The woman dropped, then a person—dressed in black and wearing a balaclava—flew into view from the side of the house.

Fiona screamed and tried to slam the door closed, but they got their foot in before she could. She attempted to kick the foot away, but the person threw their body weight into the door, making Fiona stumble.

The second the person was in the house, she realized the attacker was female. The woman raised her arm. The metal of a gun, presumably the one she’d used to shoot Kasey, flashed.

Fiona reacted on instinct, grabbing the woman’s arm and shoving it to the side, pushing her back into the wall. Her wrist hit the wood so hard, the gun dropped.

Immediately, the attacker threw her head forward and hit Fiona in the temple.

Pain blasted through her skull. She fell back, stars dancing across her vision. She blinked them away as the intruder lifted the gun again and took aim.

Fiona’s heart pounded against her ribs as she kicked her foot forward, catching the intruder’s leg and sending her to the ground. She kicked again, this time hitting the woman in the stomach.

The attacker let out an oof as Fiona rolled over and pushed to her feet. Her knees trembled, threatening to buckle beneath her. She forced them to hold her upright as she threw herself into the office to the left of the hall and slammed the door closed.

When she saw there was no lock, her heart slammed in her chest. Dammit! She needed something to keep the door closed. Desperately, she cast her gaze around the room, spotting the wooden chair by the desk.

With legs that still weren’t steady, she ran toward it, groaning at the weight as she lifted it. When she reached the door, she tilted the chair at an angle and wedged it under the handle. It had just been set in place when a body hit the wood. Fiona fell back, tumbling to the floor, more from shock than anything else.

Her throat closed at the groan of the wood. At the screech of the chair as it moved just an inch across the floor

Would they get in? She couldn’t just sit here and wait. With limbs that felt too weak, she rose and raced back behind the desk, opening every drawer, pulling out the contents. God, Callum, you have to have a gun in here somewhere.

Bang.

Something—maybe the woman’s body—collided with the door. The wood of the chair groaned and inched forward.

It wouldn’t be long. She’d get in. And when she did, Fiona would need a weapon.

She reached the last drawer, crying out when there was no gun. But she didn’t stop. She checked under the wood of each drawer, then under the desk itself—that’s where she spotted the pistol, strapped to the underside of the desk’s surface.

Thank God. She tore it off and took aim right as the chair fell and the door flew open.

The woman stopped, her gaze colliding with the gun, which was now pointed at her head.

“I know how to shoot,” Fiona said, voice as steady as it was going to get. “And I will shoot you if you don’t leave.”

But God, she hoped she didn’t need to. She was almost certain the gun in the person’s hand only held tranquilizers. So if it was a competition of whose weapon could do more damage, she’d win.

The woman’s gaze shifted to hers, and it almost stole Fiona’s breath. It was the first time she got a clear look at those eyes. Eyes that were familiar—because they were hers.

“You’re my sister,” Fiona breathed.

The woman’s eyes narrowed, like the truth in that statement made her angry. She stepped back, and Fiona stepped forward. “Please! I don’t know why you’re doing this, but you don’t have to. We’re…we’re family. It doesn’t have to be this way!”

Rage—it swirled through those chestnut eyes. “Fuck you!” The two words were hissed so quietly, and with so much hate, that Fiona flinched.

Then the woman turned and ran. Fiona raced to the window and watched as the woman ran from the house, down the street, and eventually disappeared from view. But still, Fiona’s fingers remained firm on the gun. She was frozen, unable to move, barely breathing.

The hate…it had been so thick, Fiona could practically feel it.

She wanted to keel over. To let the depths of that reality take her down. But then she remembered Kasey…

God, Kasey! She ran to the door and dropped to the woman’s side, lowering the gun to the ground. Her chest was moving, but blood soaked her top. And the dagger…

Phone. She needed a phone to call for help.

Lifting the pistol again, she ran upstairs and grabbed her cell from beside the bath. There were three missed calls from Callum. She had to call him—but first, she needed to call 911.