He closed his eyes and the crushing grip eased. She leaned against him again, soaking up his warmth.
Lara wanted to fold herself into his arms and absorb his strength. She didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but after the initial euphoria of dealing with Barcode and facing down the other two, fear had leached in. She could barely stop herself from breaking down into a puddle of terror. Only the worry of what such a breakdown would do to Ryan enabled her to hold herself together. To let him see her so scared would be too much for him and he already took on the responsibility for far too much.
His jacket was wet and cold on her cheek, but she didn’t pull away.
“You’re soaked.”
He shrugged. “That’s what happens when it rains.”
“You need to change your clothes or you’ll catch your death.”
“A little damp won’t hurt me. I’ve been wetter.” He released her and turned to face the way they’d come. “We need to check in on Darwin and head back to the hotel. I want to prep for our meeting tonight. A swift change of clothes, pick up some hardware, the usual.”
“Hardware? Are we heading for the safe house?”
He nodded. “We need some clothing for night-time operations. Just a sec.”
She stood and watched as he pecked a text message into his mobile using his thumbs, slowly.
Ryan did most things supremely well—especially the physical stuff—but social media and civilian tech happened to be two significant weaknesses. She wanted to type for him, to hurry things along, but he wouldn’t have appreciated her offer. For all his skills and wonderful traits, Ryan was still a man, after all.
He reread the message and hit send.
“Where are we meeting him?”
He held up his mobile and showed her the text, addressed to Damian Baines:
“Meet tonight. Allenby Reservoir, Folly Lane roundabout.
00:15. Come alone. Unarmed.”
“Allenby Reservoir?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t know Walthamstow?”
“I don’t,” he answered, “but while you were picking up those groceries, I took a wander around the place. Scouting the area.”
“How could you have done that? You didn’t move from outside the shop.”
He gave her one of his rare smiles and her heart melted anew.
“Satellite maps are wonderful things, Mrs Griffin. I’ve flown over the locale, virtually. Allenby Reservoir is the only decent open space around here for miles. I’ll be able to see him coming from a long way off. Make sure he’s alone.”
“And me?”
Ryan looked her up and down, appraising, not admiring.
“You’re not that much smaller than me,” he said. “You’ll look good in my lightweight body armour and battle fatigues. The colour will suit you.”
“What colour is it?”
“Black.”
The colour of mourning.
Lara wished she hadn’t asked and prayed it wasn’t an omen.
Chapter 13
Saturday 18th February – Late Evening
Walthamstow, NE London
23:17.
Cosy and protected from possible heat-sensitive imaging by an ultra-lightweight thermal blanket, Kaine raised the field glasses to his eyes and focussed on the roundabout. The single working streetlight lit the scene in a dull yellow glow. The minor road leading from the Folly Lane roundabout to the reservoir’s main entrance gate remained free of traffic.
Surrounded by metal fencing, the reservoir’s owners, London Water, didn’t encourage overnight ramblers on the footpath surrounding their deep puddle in the middle of London. The dangers were self-evident. Muddy slopes dotted with brambles, trip hazards, and a few million litres of open water offered plenty of potential for danger.
The guardhouse protecting the main gates was dark, unoccupied. What had once been a twenty-four-hour manned security operation had succumbed to the financial restrictions of the UK Government’s decade-long austerity programme, and had been handed over to the private sector. Currently, a private security company provided an intermittent and sub-standard patrol of the area.
In the two hours since he and Lara had scaled the fence and taken up their surveillance position on the inside edge of the “doughnut”—a raised mound circling the lozenge-shaped artificial lake—a Group-16 security van had made a single desultory circuit. The patrol hadn’t even stopped to check the main gates were still locked.
Pitiful.
At his side and dressed to kill, literally, Lara blended into the darkness so well, if he hadn’t seen her slide into position beside and behind him, he would hardly have known she was there. As expected, his night battledress fitted her reasonably well. Head to toe in black, and with night-time camouflage makeup, she wore the look well. She hadn’t even complained when he insisted she pull on the Kevlar ballistic vest, which was enhanced by ceramic chest and back SAPIs. When Kaine explained it meant “Small Arms Protective Inserts”, Lara had frowned and threatened to hit him with the vest, hard enough for a few of the “darned SAPIs” to leave bruises.
Of course she knew what that meant, idiot.
Even though the whole assembly weighed more than fifteen kilos, not far off a third of Lara’s total body weight, she didn’t make a squeak.
A wonderful, brave, and beautiful woman. It killed him to place her in danger again, especially after he’d done that very thing the moment he tumbled into her existence.
Despite the life he currently led, a life outside the law and vilified as a terrorist by the media and the public at large, Lara Orchard was the single good thing to come out of the whole sorry mess.
If only things had turned out differently.
No, Ryan. Don’t go there.
His guts still roiled from the memory of Lara having to defend herself from Barcode’s attack and all its potential ramifications. What would he have done if she’d been injured, or worse? Kaine shook the thought from his mind. It was not the time to dwell on the negative. He needed his head firmly in the game.
At some stage, Barcode would pay for laying a hand on her. By God, he would, but the payback would have to wait. Not for long, though. Not for bloody long.
When Lara had emerged unscathed from the tussle, he’d wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her to the hotel. Once there, he’d have packed their bags and headed for home. If not for a certain Glenmore Davits and his questionable death, and for his grandson who’d suffered intimidation at the hands of the Tribe, Kaine would have done exactly that, but the situation had forced his hand.
Kaine’s vow to protect The 83 was absolute, and he’d as soon lose an arm as willingly break it. Glenmore Davits had been a member of The 83, and Darwin still was. Kaine had to clear Darwin’s neighbourhood of its vermin. Which meant he’d have to wipe the Tribe from the map. Walthamstow would have one less street gang, one less source of drugs, and one permanently crime-free district. Some of the Trust’s millions would see to that, even if it meant he’d have to hire a long-term security team. It wouldn’t be Group-16, though. Certainly not that bunch of amateurs.
Once again, Ryan Kaine was going to war—as he had so often in his adult life. This time, the only differences were that he had made the declaration, and he would define the rules of engagement.
Before the first skirmish began, he had two objectives. First, he needed a way to protect Lara. If he was going to bring down a small and lightly armed but close-knit enemy force, he couldn’t do it while he had any concern for her safety. Second, he needed to gather as much intel as possible.
Hopefully, Damian Baines would cover the second requirement, which was the reason they were lying on the damp ground in the middle of London on a bitter February night.
Objective one needed the help of a friend and former colleague.
#
23:53.
“See anything?” Lara whispered, speaking for the first time since they’d settled down after climbing the fence protecting
the reservoir’s perimeter and tramped the three hundred metres to the best observation point in the area.
Her warmth pressed against his hip, offering comfort and confirmation of her safety. He’d placed her on his left, away from the Folly Lane entrance, protecting her from any potential danger. The camouflaged thermal blanket crinkled and squeaked under her movement.
“Yep.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“He arrived fifty minutes ago.”
Lara stiffened. “Damian?”
“Yep.”
She wriggled upwards, to the leading edge of the thermal blanket, drawing closer to his ear. “And you didn’t bother telling me?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t see the need.”
Her frustrated grunt made Kaine grin. She was acting exactly the way he expected—like a raw recruit on her first operation behind enemy lines. Tense, keen, and needy. Desperate for information. Desperate to feel as though she was in the loop.
Time to go a little easier on her.
“I’d have told you when he arrived, but you were fast asleep.”
“What? Darn it, Ryan. I wasn’t asleep. How could I sleep out here on this frozen mudpack?”
“You’re on a waterproof bedroll under a high-tog thermal blanket. Height of luxury, girl. Compared to some of the patrols I’ve been on, this bivouac is as good as a room in the Hilton.”
An elbow dug into his ribs gently. “Idiot. I wasn’t asleep. Too blooming uncomfortable to sleep.”
“Yes you were. Your snoring nearly spooked young Damian, and he’s nearly three hundred metres away.”
“Ryan Liam Kaine, I do not snore!”
“Yes you do. It’s a cute little rumble followed by a sigh and a tiny burble ….” He allowed the happy thought to trail off.
“Darn it, Ryan. Where is he?”
“Over there, by the main gates. See him?”
“Nope. What’s he doing?”
“Waiting for us.”
“How on earth—”
“Lara, you know the rules. Pipe down, sailor.”
“Rules, schmules. We’re not under fire, and you’re not the boss of me.”
She spoke so gently Kaine could barely hear her despite the fact she was close enough for her breath to warm his ear.
“Silly girl. Yes, I am. At least out here. Now pipe down.”
Movement beside him in the darkness—or at least as dark as London would ever manage—told Kaine she’d raised her smaller, lighter, night glasses. More squirming told him she hadn’t found her target. Without altering his scan of the target area, dimly lit under the halo of the single streetlight, he leaned against her, jogging her arms and spoiling her search.
Just because things were deadly serious, didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun.
“Ryan. Stop that,” she breathed.
“Stop what?”
“Darn it. Sometimes you’re nothing more than a big kid!”
“Oh no I’m not. Take that back or I’ll tell teacher,” he whispered.
Another soft harrumph made him smile again.
“Where is he? I don’t see him anywhere.”
Kaine gave her a few more seconds to search before answering. “See the Ford Focus by the guard house?”
More movement and the rustle of cloth scraping on cloth.
“Got it. The windows are dark and the engine’s off. Is he inside?”
“Nope.”
“Ryan, for goodness sake.”
“As soon as Damian arrived, he climbed out and ducked into the shadows. Take a line from the front of the car and follow the track around to the right until you come to that big hawthorn bush at the edge of the pool of light. See it?”
“Uh, yes. Got it.”
“Look up and to the right, in the darkness. See the intermittent red glow? Our man with the scar’s having a crafty ciggie. That’s his third in less than an hour. The man smokes too much. Won’t do much for his lungs. Got him now?”
“Yes,” she breathed excitedly. “I see him.” More movement at his shoulder confirmed Lara’s nod. “Hope he doesn’t smoke around his pregnant fiancée, or the baby when it arrives.”
That was his Lara, the perpetually caring medic.
“Not our problem.”
“It’ll be a problem for that poor kiddie,” she said with a little more volume.
“Lara, keep your voice down or he’ll hear us.”
“No he won’t.”
“How so?”
“There’s a stiff wind in our faces, taking sound away from Damian. I could probably shout at the top of my voice from here and he still wouldn’t hear me.”
“Good girl. You have been paying attention. Go to the top of the class.”
“Ryan, sarcasm doesn’t become you.”
“Not sarcasm, praise.”
The red glow from the cigarette grew bright, then disappeared.
“That’s another ciggie finished,” he said, checking his watch, which read 00:07.
Damian would soon be growing even more fidgety.
“Is he alone?” Lara asked.
“Looks like it. Didn’t see anyone around before he arrived, and no one’s turned up since. I couldn’t see anyone in the car when he opened the door and the courtesy light popped on. Rhino’s clearly not trained in covert ops. At the very least, he should have turned off the interior lights. And there’s no way he should have parked in such an exposed place.”
“He’s being cautious, though.”
“Yep. If he’s going to be of any use gathering intel, he needs to be. The man will be in a dangerous situation. I’m guessing he’s pretty terrified right now.”
“Can’t blame him. And you’re certain no one’s arrived since we’ve been here?”
Kaine smiled at another good question.
“Unless they’re a damned sight better at night-time ops than our Damian, which I doubt, he’s alone.”
“Okay, what now? Are we going down there to him?”
“Nope. He’ll be coming to us.”
Kaine shrugged and the thermal blanket moved, allowing another knife blade of bitter air into their improvised tent. The meeting time approached, but he awaited a new arrival, who was taking his time. But he wouldn’t be long.
“I’ll give him a call in a couple of minutes. Let’s see what—”
The alarm—a rear-facing motion detector he’d installed as they arrived—buzzed in his ear.
Lara jerked.
“Ryan, oh my God. Look out!”
Chapter 14
Saturday 18th February – Lara Orchard
Walthamstow, NE London
23:17.
Lying scrunched under the groundsheet on the edge of a reservoir in the middle of a freezing London night, gave Lara time to think about the what had happened since she’d thrown Barcode onto his backside.
Had she really defended herself from the thug?
Wow. Who’d have thought it?
She’d been lucky. Surprise had been her ally, but … to think what might have happened if Ryan hadn’t arrived in time. It didn’t bear dwelling on.
When Barcode and his minions surrounded her, and Barcode attacked, she’d felt nothing. No fear, no anger, nothing. She’d simply reacted to the attack. Months of training had asserted itself and she threw Barcode in the same way she’d thrown Ryan and Rollo hundreds of times in their makeshift dojo in the villa.
In truth, despite Ryan’s calm insistence that they practise the moves diligently, and despite his absolute professionalism and his expertise in the training, Lara never imagined aikido would work in the real world. But it had. Oh gosh, it had.
If she was being honest with herself, she worked so hard during their hand-to-hand combat training sessions because she loved being close to Ryan. She loved being part of his life, and she loved the physical and emotional high she reached during their workouts. Although her life as a vet specialising in large farm animals k
ept her reasonably healthy and fit, her present state of physical conditioning was a revelation. Currently, she sported a set of toned abs an Olympic heptathlete would be proud to reveal in skimpy race gear. The way Ryan studied her new body when he thought she couldn’t see was anything but a professional appraisal. But he kept reminding her that the newfound physical fitness and her growing military skillset served one purpose and one purpose only—to keep her alive.
“I can’t always be there to protect you,” he’d said more than once, “but I can give you the skills you need to survive if I’m not around.”
Lord, she loved him so much. And without any doubt, he loved her, body and soul. If things were different, they could even be happy together. Maybe, one day …
Lara, stop it.
She couldn’t afford to think that far ahead.
She needed to concentrate on the now. Things were serious.
When the powerful Barcode had hit the road hard, euphoria flooded through her. It took over. In that brief moment, she’d been powerful, unbeatable. If Ryan hadn’t stopped her, she’d have chased the brute and his buddies down the narrow alley to give them the hiding they deserved.
Bloodlust.
She’d never felt it before and goodness, it was wonderful at the time. But, the comedown hit her hard and, within moments of Ryan’s arrival, the reaction had set in. The fear hit. If she hadn’t been able to defend herself from Barcode, she would have been badly injured, or worse.
The expression on Ryan’s face—the anger, the hurt, the helplessness—brought the danger home in one hard, vicious belly punch. In the hours since the incident, rather than protest against Ryan’s ultra-close attentiveness—as she might have done before Barcode’s attack—she latched on tight. Despite him staying so close it bordered on paranoia, Ryan’s mere presence made everything better, safer.
For the rest of the day, Lara had relaxed into the comfort and warmth of his protection. Since the attack, he’d been true to his word and not let her out of his sight except when she needed the bathroom.
The afternoon and early evening had passed as something of a blur.
On the Money Page 12
