“Oh my God, of course I will,” she cried.
“Thank Christ for that,” he grinned, hands shaking with relief and elation.
“Wrong finger,” she said when he slid the ring onto her right ring finger.
“Oh crap. Sorry. I thought that was your left because I’m opposite you,” he grinned sheepishly, sliding it off that finger and putting it onto the correct one.
Cass stared at the ring in disbelief. She’d loved Brodie from the moment they’d met and so many times she’d secretly fantasised about this moment. Now it was finally here she was having a hard time believing it was real. When his arms went around her, solid and real and he kissed her, she knew that it was truly happening.
“Wait,” she said when he attempted to press her back onto the bed.
She leapt up, rummaged around in her own jacket and returned to him.
“Is that…,” he began with an excited grin.
She nodded and opened the box. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about me proposing to you.”
“Sweetheart, I would have leapt about the room screaming with joy.”
Cass giggled. “In that case, I wish I’d just asked, I would have loved to have seen that. Anyway, I love you Brodie, more than anyone I’ve ever loved in my entire life. Every day with you is an amazing adventure and I never want that to change. So, will you be my husband?”
“By Christ I will hen,” he beamed.
She slid the ring onto his finger - the correct one - and kissed him.
“Perfect fit,” he commented.
“I measured your finger while you were asleep.”
“That’s a wee bit creepy.”
“How did you get my measurements then because mine fits perfectly too?”
“I measured a ring in your jewellery box.”
“Yeah, that’s less creepy,” she smiled.
They fell back onto the bed together, kissing.
“If I could I’d hoist you over my shoulder and take you to the registry office right now,” he said.
“If it was open I’d let you.”
His gaze clouded slightly. “I hope you don’t mind hen but after Malachi and his gang of batty bats I couldn’t have a church wedding. I know they’re not all like him but I couldnae face it.”
“A registry office is fine. Neither of us are religious. Or,” she said, eyes lighting up. “We could hire a castle.”
“Now you’re talking,” he replied, hands sliding down her body.
“Will you wear a kilt?” she asked as he kissed her neck.
“Aye, how no?” He waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “The traditional way.”
“Like it,” she said, caressing his bare backside. “Let’s hope it’s not a windy day.”
He gazed down at her. “By Christ, I can’t believe this is finally happening. You’re going to be Mrs MacBride.”
“And everyone will call me Mrs Brodie.”
“Probably but you’ll get used to it.”
“You never have.”
“Now you’re gonnae be my wife I can face anything.”
Cass ran her fingers down his face, her heart bursting with happiness. This precious moment was made all the more special because only recently he’d been so far from her.
CHAPTER 20
Cass was woken by her mobile phone buzzing beneath her pillow. She’d wanted to wake in time for the special delivery without disturbing Brodie, so she’d set the alarm to vibrate only.
Cancelling the alarm she regarded Brodie. He slept on, lying on his back, his hair ruffled adorably, left hand draped over his stomach. The sight of the ring on his finger - her ring - made her want to squeal with excitement. She took a moment to admire her own engagement ring. Dread suffocated the joy. What if something happened to either of them before they could marry? If she didn’t marry Brodie she would never marry anyone. Determinedly she shoved that feeling away. Malachi was going to lose and they would live happily ever after.
Quietly she climbed out of bed, pulled on a t-shirt and jeans and padded to the door, pushing her hair back over her shoulders and pulling it out of her face. She loved her hair, she’d been growing it since she was a teenager but sometimes it was a nuisance.
Closing the bedroom door behind her she paused to listen but the flat was still. She padded into the main living area towards the door, keeping a watch at the screen on the wall, hoping the delivery arrived before the others woke up. While she waited she took a knife from the kitchenette and tucked it into the back of her jeans. With everything going on she was taking no chances.
She waited by the monitor mounted on the wall by the door, which was connected to a camera on the outside of the building. This allowed them to vet all visitors before letting them in, an advantage the previous safe house didn’t have.
Jules’s people were very punctual because her man arrived bang on six o’clock. She buzzed him in before he could knock, stepping out onto the landing to greet him, closing the door behind her. The man was large with chunky shoulders, a craggy face and cold blue eyes. Just looking at him she could tell he’d taken plenty of lives and that fact had never troubled his conscience for one second.
“Cass Carlisle?” he said.
She nodded.
“I should have guessed with the hair. Jules told me all about it,” he said, eyes twinkling with a surprising good humour. “She’s a big fan of yours.” He handed her a long thin black box. “Take my advice, don’t prick your finger on it.”
“I’ll do my best,” she smiled.
“Jules sent a little extra,” he said, dumping a small pocket mirror in her hand.
“Err, what’s this?”
“It’s one of Raven’s flash devices. Jules said you know her?”
Cass nodded.
“Just open it up and throw it to the ground. It’ll temporarily blind anyone in its immediate vicinity. They’re handy little buggers. This one’s a new design Raven’s testing, so if you’re searched no one will look twice at it.”
“Clever. Tell Jules thanks.”
“Will do. Take care Cass Carlisle.”
“Safe journey,” she replied as he jogged downstairs.
She retreated back into the office, shutting the door and locking it. Carefully she opened the lid to reveal a syringe full of a clear liquid. Cass smiled as she imagined ramming it into Malachi’s neck and depressing the plunger. It would be the first time she’d killed anyone but she was willing to do it to protect those she loved.
Cass returned to the bedroom, pausing to make sure Brodie was still asleep, which he was, worn out from the effects of the drugs leaving his system.
Getting onto her knees, she ducked under the bed and lifted aside the segment of carpet she’d cut out for this purpose, removed the loose floorboard and secreted the box inside. After replacing everything she stuffed the flash device into her jacket pocket, removed her clothes, climbed back into bed and snuggled up to Brodie, who slept on, oblivious.
Christian’s eagle eyes spotted the rings on their fingers the next morning when they ambled into the living room of the safe house, yawning.
“So you’re finally engaged, are you?” he grinned.
Brodie slung an arm around Cass’s shoulders. “Aye we are.”
Ross and Christian let up a cheer while Gardner released a polite, “Congratulations.”
“Are we invited to the wedding?” said Ross. “Or are you eloping?”
“You’re both invited,” said Cass. “We want to have it at a castle.”
“Awesome,” he said with a daft grin. “Can I dress up as a knight?”
“Christ no,” said Brodie. “We’re no’ having you clanking all the way through the ceremony. But you can wear a kilt if you want.”
“Are you wearing a kilt Bossman?” said Christian with a naughty glint in his eye. “You’ll give the city a thrill.”
“Aye I am and so are you.”
“I don’t mind, I’ve got the legs to pull it off.” He jerk
ed a thumb at Ross. “Unlike him with his pale chicken drumsticks. Let’s hope the sun doesn’t hit them or we’ll all be blinded.”
“You finished talking about other men’s leg?” said Brodie. “Aye, I thought that would silence you,” he grinned when Christian frowned. “Where’s Elliott?”
“I called to let him know the change of address. He’s on his way. He stopped off for coffee and doughnuts.”
“Not more doughnuts,” grimaced Gardner. “I don’t know how you stand being constantly surrounded by them.”
“Why, what pastries do you like?” Brodie asked him. “We could get Elliott to pick some up.”
“I don’t like any pastries. I only eat healthy foods, like lentils and fruit.”
Brodie stared at him as though he’d grown a second head.
“Anyway,” continued Gardner. “I believe I was brought here to exit counsel you Mr Brodie but it doesn’t look like you require any counselling.”
“I don’t, I’m feeling fine but we still need to get Steven Silvers out of that hellhole and hopefully Elaine Mickleson, so could you hang around a bit longer?”
“I can but, as I told Cass, I will not be a party to kidnap. Abducting someone in a cult isn’t the right way to go.”
“Alright, keep your wig on Professor.”
“I do not wear a wig,” he announced.
“That’s just a figure of speech he often uses,” said Cass. “Anyway, don’t you want to help us bring down Malachi? I’m sure you’d feel a lot safer knowing he’s locked up.”
“Yes, of course I would but I don’t know how I can help.”
“You have a unique insight into cults. You might think of something that we wouldn’t.”
“Alright, I’ll stay a bit longer but the fee still applies?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent,” he replied before flouncing into a chair.
Brodie’s look said he thought he was a big princess.
When the buzzer went off, alerting them to the fact that someone wanted letting in, Christian strolled over to the monitor. “The police are at the door,” he announced.
“What?” replied Brodie. “Let’s have a look.” He peered at the screen to see a sheepish Elliott surrounded by three officers.
“Sorry Brodie,” said Elliott. “I stopped by the office on Sauchiehall Street to pick up a few things and they were waiting.”
“It’s no’ your fault.” He looked to Cass and the others. “I don’t recognise their faces. They’re not from Pete’s station.”
“Open up,” said a hard voice through the intercom. “Police.”
“Oh aye? Show us your ID then.”
The man held his warrant card up to the camera, as did the officers accompanying him.
“They’re the real deal Brodie,” said Elliott.
“What you wantin’?” Brodie said into the intercom.
“We wish to speak to Cass Carlisle about an assault on Malachi,” replied one of the officers.
“Malachi who?”
“Just Malachi.”
“You no’ got a second name for him then?”
“He doesn’t have one. I’m referring to Malachi of Higher Light. He alleges she headbutted him at your Sauchiehall Street office. Who am I talking to?”
“Brodie MacBride, I own this office.”
“Open up or we’ll be forced to break down the door. We have a warrant for Ms Carlisle’s arrest.”
“What? In that case you can piss right off, she didnae assault anyone.”
“Brodie, open the door,” said Cass. “I have to face them.”
“While we let them in you can do a runner out the back.”
“I am not going on the run. They’ll have the rear exit covered anyway. Best just to face them.”
Brodie sighed and nodded at Christian, who buzzed open the door.
“I’ll tell him it was me who stuck the heid on Malachi,” said Brodie.
“You will not,” retorted Cass. “You admit it and you’ll be arrested, charged and thrown into prison. So for once you will keep your gob shut.”
“I can’t let you get done for something I did.”
“I won’t be. Promise me you won’t admit to anything…”
“But…”
“Promise me Brodie.”
He sighed and nodded. “Aye, alright. If you insist hen.” He looked to the others. “Don’t lie about Malachi being at the other office,” he told them. “There’s CCTV on that street, it’ll be easy for him to prove. But no one hit him.”
They all nodded in response then listened in silence to the sound of multiple footsteps coming up the stairs. Eventually a plain-clothes detective and two uniformed officers appeared, Elliott slinking in after them. The detective was only quite young, mid-thirties, attractive with thick dark hair and grey eyes. For a reason Cass couldn’t fathom he seemed familiar, although she was certain they’d never met before.
“DS Donaldson, Glasgow West End,” said the detective.
“West End?” said Brodie. “You’re a bit out of your territory.”
“The complaint was made to our station by Malachi of Higher Light. His church is based there.” Donaldson looked to Cass. “He claims you headbutted him in your Sauchiehall Street office yesterday evening.”
“Well it’s not true,” blurted out Brodie. “We were all there yesterday evening, so we all know it’s bollocks.”
Donaldson calmly listened to this speech, ignoring Ross, who was staring at him intently, attempting to figure out where he’d seen him before. He looked to Cass. “And what do you have to say about this Miss?”
“Yes I was there yesterday and yes Malachi did turn up but no one hit him.”
“He’s got a bruised face that says otherwise. Why did he go to your office?”
“We’ve been investigating his cult,” said Brodie. “Our client’s worried about their son.”
“What’s their son’s name?”
“Sorry, client confidentiality.”
“And have you found the son?”
“We did speak to him but we didn’t have much luck. Malachi’s done a good job brainwashing him.”
“And that’s what he does, is it? Brainwash people?”
“That’s where I know you from,” exclaimed Ross. “You’re that copper who brought down all those psychos in Blair Dubh, that village in Ayrshire.”
Donaldson rolled his eyes when they all stared at him.
“First it was that serial killer, Martin Lynch,” said an excited Ross. “Then some prisoner who escaped from Barlinnie, then that sniper who went around shooting all the villagers. And he arrested that other serial killer too, the Bellfield Monster.”
“Oh aye,” said Brodie. “I remember seeing all that on the news.”
“I’m not here to discuss me,” said Donaldson. “I’m here to talk about this assault.”
Ross looked to Brodie. “He’s a good polis Bossman.”
Brodie took the hint and nodded. “Can we talk to you in private?” he asked Donaldson, indicating the two officers accompanying him.
“You’re not going to give me any trouble, are you?”
“After you took down a bunch of serial killing loons? Bloody right we’re not.”
“Wait outside lads,” Donaldson told his colleagues. When they’d gone he looked to Brodie. “Well?”
“This is Professor Gardner,” said Brodie. “He’s an exit counsellor for people who have left cults.”
Gardner, who had attempted to blend into the background, looked nervous to be dragged into the conversation. He swallowed hard when Donaldson studied him with his concentrated grey gaze.
“Higher Light is a cult through and through,” said Brodie. He sighed and looked to Cass.
“There’s no choice,” she said.
“Aye, you’re right hen.” He looked back at Donaldson. “You have to keep what I’m about to tell you to yourself.”
“I can’t promise anything,” he replied.
>
Brodie took another deep breath before saying, “Malachi abducted me, forcibly injected me with psychotropic drugs and tried to brainwash me. It worked for a wee while too, until this lot rescued me.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the hypodermic marks, causing Donaldson’s eyebrows to shoot up.
“Do you have any more evidence?” said Donaldson.
“We’re not making this up,” said Cass, flushing with anger.
“I didn’t say you were Miss,” he replied. “But I have to remain impartial. Have you made a complaint about this abduction?”
“No,” said Brodie, not wanting to drag Pete into this mess.
“Surely you’d make a complaint if you were abducted?”
“I have a reputation to maintain in this city. Without it I can’t make a living.”
“I did my research before coming here. You’re quite the celebrity among some of my colleagues with a reputation as a good police officer. But I spoke to some of my grasses, who tell me another story, that you often cross the line to get the job done.”
“You can’t always trust what a grass says.”
“Maybe not yours but mine have never let me down. I’m not here to investigate an abduction which has never been reported. I’m here to investigate an alleged assault by Miss Carlisle.” He turned his attention back to her. “You need to accompany me to the station.”
“She’s going nowhere with you pal,” glowered Brodie.
“I’m afraid she’s no choice,” replied Donaldson, the two men regarding each other with equal steel in their eyes.
Cass knew there weren’t many men who could go up against Brodie but she thought Donaldson would give him a good run for his money. This man had survived a lot of bad things, so there was very little that could daunt him anymore.
“I’ll go,” Cass told Brodie. “It’s best to get this straightened out.”
“Alright but I’m coming with you.”
Cass sat opposite Donaldson in an interview room at the Glasgow West End station. Brodie, despite his objections, was waiting in reception. She had to give Donaldson his due, he was a fierce interrogator but this fact had got him nowhere.
“Have you any evidence other than Malachi’s statement that I did anything to him?” said Cass.
The Devil Inside Page 26
