Page 74 of Shadows Relived
“Elvis!” he barked into the comm. “Perimeter breach—back of the house!”
“I see him!” Elvis shouted.
Callen hurried Meaghan to Hawk, who pulled her into a protective stance. Outside, a gunshot cracked the night.
Then another.
Callen raced out in time to see Everett Marris stumble across the yard, leg buckling beneath him as blood soaked his calf.
Behind him stood Senator Harrington, gun still smoking, hands steady. “That,” the senator said coldly, “was for my daughter.”
Callen lowered his arm and shook his head. Turning he saw Hawk helping Meaghan out of the house, and she could only stand there and stare at her father and the man on the ground.
Fifteen minutes later, they had secured the house, with Everett zip-tied and groaning in the dirt, bleeding but alive.
Callen stood beside the SUV, staring at Meaghan as she sat on the tailgate with Abbie gently tending her wrists.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
When her eyes found his again, there was no need for apology.
They had faced the chaos and they were still standing.
Together.
CHAPTER 27
THE HOTEL BALCONYSMELLED like salt and jasmine as Meaghan leaned against the black iron railing, eyes on the early afternoon haze that blurred the edges of the Florida coast. Below, sunlight glimmered off the surface of the intercoastal like scattered diamonds. The breeze lifted her curls, cooling the sheen of stress still clinging to her skin.
But her mind wasn’t in Florida; not with everything that had happened last night. It was still back in Georgia. Still in that decaying house where hope had nearly died.
She could see it so clearly, see him standing there, gun still in hand. Roger Harrington, Senator. Statesman. Power broker. And in that moment… her father.
The air had smelled of rot and gunpowder and anger and fear. She had been zip-tied to a chair, Everett Marris trying to cover his retreat with violence and smirking lies, Callen’s team chasing him, until the shot rang out.
Not from Callen’s gun.
Her father’s.
As she stumbled out of the house, hanging onto Hawk, she saw Everett hit the ground, screaming in agony as he clutched his leg. And behind him stood her father, gun still raised, hand trembling.
It hadn’t been clean or heroic.
It had been human.
She had heard what happened afterward, how Callen had dragged her father into that fight. Her father had shown up under protest and under Callen’s threats that he either do the right thing or Callen would make sure he regretted it. But in the end, when it mattered, he’d pulled the trigger.
For her.
He hadn’t run. Hadn’t turned away or demanded someone else take the shot. He had made a choice.
A father’s choice.
And for the first time in years, something inside her cracked. Not the old pain, the pain she was so used to that it barely registered anymore, the pain of a father too busy for his daughter, too controlling to trust her to live her own life. No, this was… something warmer. Rough-edged and reluctant. A tiny sliver of grace.
Maybe he really had been trying to protect her in his own twisted way. Maybe he thought shielding her with money and silence was enough. But this time he used action instead of excuses to protect her in the end.
