Sex, Lies & Sweet Tea Read online

  “Sam I—I—do,”

  “You do what, Mac? Love me?” she scoffed. “You’re pitiful. You can’t even say the words.”

  “I do love you. I love you and Dax both,” I said, desperate for her to understand. “I love you both very much.”

  “Maybe you should’ve spared me that piece of information too.” Sam began to cry harder and it hurt my heart and messed with my head. “It would’ve been easier to deny it now.”

  “I’m not here to deny anything.” I began to uncontrollably raise my voice. “Yes, I didn’t tell you I was working a case. Yes, I used the information you were gathering to help make arrests. Yes, it’s been a shitty day. But know this. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. And my intention was to protect you. It was never to hurt you.”

  “Mac, I think your FBI skills are right on point. Being a man?” She faltered as her voice cracked. “No, being a gentleman—that needs some work. Please leave my house.”

  Suddenly there was a split in the universe. I heard it in my head as I stood in front of the woman I loved, dumbfounded and speechless. I said the only thing I thought she would want to hear. “I am truly sorry, Samantha. Please accept my sincerest apology.” I turned without looking her in the face, afraid she’d see my tears.

  I stumbled out the old front door, closing it softly. I’d just walked away from my dream. I leaned against the mahogany entrance that separated me from the love of my life, longing to go back. I wanted to kiss her, hold her, and make her understand that I did it all because I loved her. I could hear her sobbing on the other side and I placed my hand on the door, wanting to be close to her and wiped a tear from my eye. I could feel my heart break for the first time in my life.

  I walked to the Range Rover in a daze, my chest aching, my stomach churning. I drove out of Sam’s driveway slowly, somehow hoping she would change her mind and come running after me. It didn’t happen.

  I pulled the car over and turned it off as soon as I cleared the long lane from her house and rested my head on the steering wheel, trying to regain my composure. For the first time I could remember in so many years, I cried.

  *

  I woke early the next day before my alarm dared to test my patience or bad mood. I’d had too much bourbon and drunkenly packed what little I brought with me from D.C. Although I didn’t remember it, I’d left my bag by the door. In my stupor, I could only guess my plan was to make a quick getaway.

  My head ached and my mind was foggy. I knew I needed to leave Shadeland and I was anxious to do it. I was eager to get back to D.C. In Washington, I could give two shits and still be ahead of the game. The few years I’d spent at the Bureau tainted me enough to expect just about anything. I almost felt like I was the one who put a blemish on the face of Autumn Valley—on Shadeland.

  I showered and thought of Sam. I couldn’t get her out of my head. My hope, or maybe my fear, was to return to Washington and allow my old life to overtake the beauty of my recent past. But I wasn’t holding my breath. The last two weeks had been the most wonderful of my life, and I wasn’t going to forget them or get over her anytime soon.

  I dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt and my old leather jacket. It was the one thing I was taking back with me. I walked to my dresser and valet to look at the assortment of watches I had worn while visiting home. I put them all back in a case and closed the lid. I picked up my gold ring and took one last look before putting it away in the drawer for good along with the small velvet box containing Momma’s emerald ring. Collecting the change from the corner nightstand, I saw it—Dax’s little Matchbox car.

  I picked it up and sighed heavily. The pit in my stomach was again sparking my misery. I knew I couldn’t relive last night. Fueled by alcohol, I had cried for hours, unable to stop. It was impressive—a grown man spilling out that much in such a small timeframe.

  I put the car in my pocket, reminding myself I’d told Sam I had it. I would send it in the mail directly to Dax. I didn’t want anyone else to take care of it for me.

  I gave the room one last look, and went downstairs. It was only six a.m., but Miss Celia was already in the kitchen making coffee. “Good morning,” I said with a groan, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Rough night, baby?”

  “Pretty rough,” I said, keeping my head down. I knew she could smell the booze still on my breath, or seeping from my pores. I wasn’t a pretty sight.

  “Can I make you some breakfast?”

  “Just coffee,” I said, pouring myself a cup.

  “Are you leaving today, baby?”

  “I’m on a ten a.m. flight back to D.C.”

  “What about your case here?” Celia asked. She wanted to look me in the eye and she could tell I didn’t want the same.

  “The field office in Birmingham is taking over. I did my depositions yesterday.”

  “How’d that go?” she asked sincerely.

  “Routine stuff.”

  “Are you gonna see your momma before you fly out?”

  “I thought about it, but I when I saw her a couple of days ago, she was totally with it and we had a great conversation. If I visit her and today’s a bad day—” I paused, thinking again of her ring. “I just don’t know if I could stand it.”

  “I understand, baby. What did you and Miss Nancy talk about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “No, not at all,” I sipped my coffee and leaned into the marble counter. I knew I would soon be missing Lone Oak and Miss Celia’s kitchen. “She basically told me to get my act together. She told me to quit screwing around and make something of myself.”

  Miss Celia raised an eyebrow. “Now boy, you and I both know Miss Nancy didn’t say anything like that. Now, tell me what she did say.”

  I loved Celia, but she knew our family too well. There were no versions of the truth. She wanted it straight. “She told me not to let my life pass me by. She told me not to be afraid to love, to have a family, to build a future.”

  “Now that sounds a whole lot more like Miss Nancy,” Celia said, stroking my arm.

  “I was paraphrasing.” I did my best to smile through my hangover and broken heart but I wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all Miss Celia.

  “There’s a whole heap a’ difference between paraphrasing and lying like a rug, baby. Be careful which one you use.”

  I nodded and hugged her tightly. “I’ll call in a few days to check on everything, and I’ll be back in a few weeks as the case wraps.”

  “Come home soon,” she said, wiping her tears. “Lone Oak just isn’t the same without a Callahan here.”

  I knew what she meant. Lone Oak wasn’t the same without a Callahan, and I wasn’t the same without Lone Oak. Generations of us had raised families here, and now the legacy would be over. It would be over, and I would be the reason.

  “Randall is here,” Celia said, breaking my chain of thought. “He can take you to the airport.”

  “I’m thinkin’ I’ll take a cab.” I picked up my one bag and started for the door.

  “Like the devil you’re taking a cab,” Celia said, letting me know who was still in charge. “Randall!” she shouted into the next room.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Randall answered, making his way into the kitchen. “Morning, Mr. Callahan.”

  “Randall, please call me Mac.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. Callahan is going to the airport. Please take his bags and drive him there safely.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Are you ready to go, sir?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Celia walked me to the front door and hugged me again. “You sure you don’t wanna go and see your momma before you leave?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be back before you know it,” I said, climbing into the front seat of the Range Rover. Randall pulled out slowly, and my old home looked beautiful in the new morning light as Celia waved to me from the front steps.

  Leaving Lone Oak was harder than I’d told myself it would be. I’d quic
kly become accustomed to it. And even though it was a brief moment, I enjoyed dreaming of how my life could be here with Sam and Dax. Unfortunately, instead of continuing to make those plans, I was hightailing it out of town as fast as I could and diving headfirst into my old reality.

  28

  MAC

  “You look like shit,” Micah barked as I walked into my office still in jeans and my leather jacket.

  “Nice to see you too.” I grimaced, not looking her in the face.

  “Why are you back so soon? I had you down for two weeks’ vacation after you wrapped the case.”

  “I’m back to wrap the case.” I glared at her, tossing my bag onto the desk. “After that, I’ll decide if I want to take the vacation or not. Does that work for you, Micah?”

  “Damn you, Mac,” she said in a huff, throwing a stack of files on my desk. “I’m here for you, dealing with all of your shit. I’m not taking shit from you too.”

  I nodded, realizing the old Mac was back, and I didn’t like him much. I sat down at my desk as Micah stormed out of the room, passing Dan.

  “What’s up her ass?” Dan asked as soon as she was out of earshot.

  “I’m a dick.”

  “So what else is new? Wanna fill me in on what went down in Shadeland?”

  “I filed a report late last night. It’s online.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Mac, just tell me what happened.”

  I leaned back in my familiar desk chair and sighed heavily. “We had enough evidence on Stacy Little and her son, Ricky Booker, who turns out, is the one who tipped us using the same anonymous email and server he set up for her to blackmail her boss, James Miller.” I tossed the envelope containing the incriminating photos of Miller to Dan and stared out the window into the afternoon sky over the capitol. “She had photographs of Miller having sex with Hector Quintes, a member of the Autumn Valley custodial staff.”

  Dan opened the envelope and quickly went through the pictures. “The boardroom, huh?” he asked, as I tried not to think of the hot night I spent there myself with Sam. “Why did the Booker kid turn in his mother? Does he want some sort of immunity?”

  “Nope. He just wanted her out of the house.”

  “Miller killed himself over the blackmail?”

  “Miller killed himself over the humiliation a small town like Shadeland would heap on him. He never would’ve lived it down, and believe me, this man really liked himself.”

  “Yeah, so much so he was willing to eat a bullet instead of doing a couple of years in a minimum security prison.”

  “Yup.”

  “Where’s Hector Quintes?”

  “Gone. No known address, no relatives. His social security information on file at Autumn Valley was fake. Came back registered to a dead man in Virginia.”

  “Are we tracking him?”

  “I don’t think he’s gonna cause trouble for anyone. He probably just wants to get on with his life.”

  “You ready to get on with yours?” Dan asked.

  “You mean am I taking my vacation?”

  “You look like shit.”

  “So I’ve been told by you and Micah.”

  “Finish filing your report and take a few days off to decide what you want to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The girl, Mac. Decide what you’re going to do about the girl.”

  “Are we talking about the same case?” I asked, giving him a puzzled look.

  “What do you think I do here in D.C. while you guys are out in the field? Thump dummy?”

  “Maybe,” I said, half joking, half serious.

  “I’m talking specifically about Samantha Peterson AKA Samantha Mitchell. Late husband Daniel, son Dax.”

  “You do your homework,” I said, staring him down. “What about her?”

  “You spent a lot of time with her.”

  “So?”

  “So I’m just wondering what that’s all about.”

  “She was on the inside. I have enough information from her on Little to prosecute,” I said, rubbing my head to ease the sting of my still present hangover.

  “But she didn’t know you were investigating Autumn Valley.”

  “Who? Samantha? No.”

  “How’s she feeling about that now?”

  “Why do you care, man?” I asked, getting pissed. “Frankly, I have no fucking idea what her feelings have to do with anything.”

  “Well, at least you got the information you needed out of her. Was she at least a decent lay?”

  I stood, violently pushing my chair from under my feet and put my hands on Dan in less than three seconds. “Don’t talk about her that way,” I shouted, gripping the front of Dan’s shirt tightly in each hand.

  “Back the fuck down, Mac,” he growled through his clenched teeth.

  I released his shirt and stayed in his face, still pissed as hell.

  “Shit. Micah was right.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, pushing him away and calming my urge to throat punch him.

  “Micah said you’d fallen for this girl, but I didn’t believe her.” I watched Dan walk away. “Either lock that shit down, or—”

  “Or what?” I glared at him as he turned around.

  “Marry her, for God’s sake,” Dan said calmly, walking away. “You’re useless to me otherwise.”

  I stood in the quiet of my lonely office. A sound I would need to get used to. An empty life, filled with silence.

  “I’m leaving. I’m going to the gym and then I’m going home. I’ve had enough for the day,” I said to Micah as I walked away, still lost in Dan’s words.

  “You got it,” she said.

  I turned and made my way back to her desk, “I’m sorry I’m a dick.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  Leaving my bag and briefcase in my office, I went directly downstairs to the gym in the Hoover Building. Walking into the locker room, it felt familiar and I was grateful. Anxious to go a few rounds, I dressed at full tilt. I needed to work off my aggression in the worst way. My pent-up rage came pouring out over the next forty-five minutes as I beat the holy living shit out of the heavy bag.

  Exhausted physically and mentally, I showered, changed and went outside to catch a cab—my car still parked at my brownstone in town.

  “Hey, stranger,” Micah said, pulling up next to me on the street. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “So you do leave the office,” I said, leaning into her open passenger window. “I can just catch a cab. I hate to put you out.”

  “If I thought you would be putting me out, I wouldn’t have stopped.”

  “Good point,” I said, opening the door to Micah’s Lexus. “Nice car.”

  “Thanks. You’re on Massachusetts Avenue, right?”

  “Yes.”

  We rode in silence until Micah couldn’t take it any longer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you want to talk about it, but you’re afraid of what it means if you do.”

  “Are you trying to use some Bureau psychology bullshit on me?”

  “Mac, I know you. And if you don’t say it out loud, if you don’t acknowledge the elephant in the room, it doesn’t really exist. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. What’s your point?” I asked as we pulled up to my brownstone.

  “Take tomorrow off like Dan asked, and acknowledge the big fat fucking elephant in the room with you. Then come back to work with your head screwed on straight.”

  I climbed out of her car without responding. “Thanks for the ride home.”

  “Anytime.”

  “I think I’m going to take tomorrow off.”

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  “Good night.”

  I rambled along the sidewalk and up the three stairs leading to the front door of the renovated brownstone. Picking up the mail from the floor and tossing it on the table in the front en
trance hall, I turned on every light I passed. Walking to the kitchen, I prayed for a cold Stella Artois. I opened the usually empty subzero fridge to find a single beer standing cold, just waiting for me.

  I tossed my keys and phone on the coffee table in the den and turned on my big-ass flat screen—my new best friend. Checking the house phone, I looked to see how many messages had been jammed onto the machine in the last few days. I used my cell phone for everything, but the Bureau required me to keep a landline.

  There were messages from everyone who wanted to put chemicals on my non-existent yard to a political survey. Finally, after a good three or four minutes I was down to the last one.

  “This message is for FBI agent Mac Callahan.” The Hispanic voice shook with rage. “James Miller was a kind and decent man. He was the love of my life. Do you know what that feels like? Love?” I went to the machine to look for the caller ID. “Of course you don’t, you selfish fuck,” the trembling voice continued. “You might as well have pulled the trigger yourself. Fucking Special Agent in Charge Callahan.”

  Hector.

  “You took James from me,” he paused. “Now it’s your turn, motherfucker!”

  “Sam.” I said with a gasp as the message finally ended. I dug my cell phone from my pocket and called her number. It rang. No answer. Only voicemail.

  “Sam, it’s Mac. I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now, but you’re in danger. I don’t want you to panic, but I’m gonna have someone to come to your house and keep close watch over you, Dax and Polly. Please call me back when you get this message. I’m sorry, baby, and I love you.”

  I killed the call, and shouted at the top of my lungs, “Fuck!”

  29

  MAC

  I called the field office in Birmingham to let them know Hector was coming for Sam and told them to get security on Mom and Mimi at Autumn Valley. Hector was unstable, and I wasn’t taking any chances with anyone I cared about. I put out an APB through the Bureau, and the local and state police. If he was on the road, I wanted him found. I called Randall and told him to get a bead on Sam, Mom and Miss Mimi. Finally, I called Jack to fire up the Gulfstream and meet me at the private airfield at Dulles as soon as possible. I was going home.