“Nothing. She’s called Rachel. Harry and her had a falling out a couple of years ago and he’s only recently started talking to her directly. He used to communicate solely by email, Instant Message or through his wife, Magenta.”
Callum rubbed his leg, once, caught himself doing it and folded his arms. Lake hadn’t been there when Callum lost both legs—he’d already retired from the SAS by then—but he knew all about the car bomb that ended his friend’s career.
“He was in a huff with his manager?” He let out a sigh. “How old is he again? Twelve?”
“Look.” Lake leaned forward, put his forearms on the table in front of him and stared at Callum. “I’m not going to bullshit you. Benson Security doesn’t do things the way we did in the service. We aren’t staffed solely by military personnel. But each and every person who works with me is skilled and experienced. You won’t find a better team anywhere. My team is the main reason I have to expand business or start turning people away. When someone hires Benson Security, they know they’re getting the best. But I can’t carry on unless I have someone I trust heading up the other office. I need someone who thinks the same way I do. That’s you, Callum.” He looked over at Harry, who was busy arguing the merits of Babylon Five over Star Trek: The Next Generation with his very bored older brother, Flynn. “You can put up with some eccentric behaviour. If you couldn’t, I wouldn’t have called you.”
“I don’t know.” Callum wavered, running a hand over his sandy brown hair, which was still military short, even though he’d been over a year out of the service. “I can’t do this social shit. It’s taking all of my self-control to sit here right now. I’m torn between running or punching someone. It’s taking a lot of energy to do neither.”
“You don’t have to do this social shit. You’ll be in London. Far, far away from Josh and his breakfast club. All you need to do is turn up at the office, run the team, then go home to stare at your four blank walls until the next morning.”
“I’ve never been any good at office stuff. I like to be out getting the job done, not telling someone else to do it.”
Lake didn’t point out that with two prosthetic legs, Callum’s only real option was to be an office guy. His days of running the enemy down were over. Physically, anyway. That didn’t mean he couldn’t oversee a team. Or put his contacts and years of expertise to good use.
“You can manage a team. You did it for years. Julia will do the office admin stuff. She’s a good assistant. She’s only been with me a few months, but she’s on top of the business. She’ll steer you right.”
“Julia?” Callum was obviously searching his memory. “Have I met her?”
Crap, that wasn’t a question Lake wanted to answer, but the man deserved the truth. “No, you haven’t met her. She’s shy.” Terrified. “Timid.” Borderline agoraphobic. “Doesn’t cope well with new people or forceful personalities.” Or any people. At all. Ever.
Callum stared at Lake long enough for him to wonder if the man was going to get up and hike through the snow to get away from Invertary.
“You want this Julia to set up an office full of ex-military men. You want her to assist me. Are you insane? Our guys only come in one type—forceful and overwhelming. How exactly is she supposed to help me if she can’t talk to the staff?”
That won’t be a problem because she will never see them. She’ll hide as soon as they set foot in the office. Lake thought it wise to keep that information to himself.
“She’s an organisational genius. She’s fantastic with computer systems. Amazing at project management and scheduling. She writes great emails and she can talk on the phone—mostly.” If pushed.
“And she’s scared of her own shadow?”
“Yeah.” Lake grinned.
Callum shook his head. “Do you even realise how crazy this is? You want me to set up an operation with Julia the mouse and Rachel the bulldog.”
“Look on the bright side. At least you won’t have to be sociable. Rachel won’t stand for it, and Julia will just hide if you invite her to anything.”
Callum stared at him. He wasn’t what you would call a silver lining type of guy.
“Okay,” Lake said. “How about this? You’ll make money and get to shoot things if the occasion arises. Plus, you’re the boss. What you say goes. If you don’t like working with Julia and Rachel, replace them. Only make sure you send Julia back here. I don’t care that she occasionally hides in cupboards, she’s indispensable.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled at his friend. “So, what do you say, Callum; ready to get back into the game?”
Callum cursed. Lake reached for his beer, unwilling to acknowledge that he was anxious about his friend’s decision. If he couldn’t get Callum on board he’d be back to square one with the business expansion, and he couldn’t do that. He’d barely had time to sleep these past few months. He needed this partnership just as much as Callum did—although Callum didn’t know that yet. Being alone, staring at walls wasn’t good for the man. He needed people around him. He needed a challenge. And Lake was handing him one on a silver platter.
Callum looked around the room as the muscle on his jaw flexed. At last he faced Lake.
“The crazy old woman stays here with you, right?”
“Absolutely.” He held his breath and waited.
“I am going to regret this,” Callum said.
Lake grinned widely. “Welcome aboard.” He held out his hand for his new partner to shake.
From the other side of the room, Harry spotted the exchange and gave him a thumbs-up.
Callum saw the gesture and groaned. Lake just chuckled as he drank the rest of his beer.
12
* Joe *
“Is anybody there? It’s Rainne here.”
The women in the master bedroom screamed en masse when a voice boomed out from the wall. Joe swung in the direction of the voice. Gun out.
For a second nobody moved.
“This is Rainne. We’re in the guardhouse. Can anybody hear me?”
“Caroline?” Joe barked.
“The intercom!” Caroline rushed for the old unit on the wall beside the bed. She flicked a switch. “We’re here. This is Caroline.”
“Thank goodness.” Lake’s sister sounded slightly tinny, and tight with emotion. “Is everyone okay? There was a guy out here with a gun. He shot at Alastair’s truck.”
“We’re okay. We’re holed up in the tower bedroom,” Caroline said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’re—”
Joe reached past Caroline and flicked the switch.
“Can they hear this conversation in the rest of the house?” The last thing he wanted was to broadcast their situation to the enemy.
Caroline shook her head. “Not now that I’ve answered. Now it’s just between here and the guardhouse.”
Joe relaxed slightly. “Okay.” He switched the intercom back on.
Kirsty pushed her way to Caroline. The redhead had circles under her green eyes that testified to weeks of sleeping badly. Tension radiated from her, and Joe suspected it wasn’t only due to the situation and her ruined wedding.
“Ask her if they’re injured,” Kirsty said.
“I can hear you, Kirsty,” Rainne said. “The truck rolled off the road. I’m okay, a few bruises, but Alastair is pretty banged up. He hurt his head. His wrist is swollen. I don’t know if it’s a sprain or something worse. His ribs are bruised too. He says they aren’t cracked or broken, but I’m not so sure.” Her voice was shaky. “He went to sleep a few minutes ago and hasn’t stirred. I don’t know what to do. What if he has a concussion? Should I try to make him wake up?”
“How’s his breathing, Rainne? This is Joe.” Joe stepped up beside them. He wasn’t sure how good the mic was on the old system.
“Steady, I think.”
“Is it raspy, slower than normal?”
“No.”
“Okay. What about nausea? Vomiting? Is his speech slurred?”
“No
nausea or vomiting. He slurred his speech a little when he first woke up, but it’s been normal since then.”
“Okay, that’s all good. I think he’s going to be fine, Rainne. Try not to worry. It doesn’t sound like his lungs are impaired. Let him rest. It’s probably just the warmth from the fire and the shock of his injuries that have wiped him out.”
“Aren’t you supposed to keep someone awake when they have a concussion?”
“Not anymore, honey. That’s old advice. Now doctors say if there aren’t any other symptoms, let them sleep. His brain needs time to heal. Along with the rest of him.”
“Is it okay if I wake him later just to make sure he’s okay?”
“Yeah.” Joe smiled. He liked Lake’s baby sister. The few times he’d checked up on her in Glasgow for Lake, he’d enjoyed their conversations. Although he could use fewer lectures on why his car was killing the planet. “When Alastair wakes again, don’t let him move around too much—keep him as still as possible until someone gets to him. Otherwise he could make his injuries worse.”
“How am I supposed to stop him moving around? I can’t get him to do anything.” The exasperation was loud and clear.
“Sit on him if you have to—but not on his chest. If those ribs snap they could puncture a lung. If he has a mild concussion, a hit to the head could turn it into something serious. Don’t give him any aspirin or ibuprofen, they’ll exasperate any bleeding he has.”
“What about paracetamol?”
“That’s fine, honey,” Joe said.
“What about the guy with the gun? I can’t get in contact with anyone but you lot. The phones are out. Do you want me to go outside? I can find out what’s going on and give you an update.”
“No!” everyone in the room shouted.
Joe held up a hand to silence everyone and barked at the intercom, “Do not go outside the guardhouse. Barricade the door and stay inside. Take care of Alastair. We’ll deal with everything else. Claire has gone to town to get help. This will be over soon.”
“But—” Rainne said.
“No buts, sweetie.” Kirsty had gone as white as the snow outside at the thought of Rainne playing spy. “You have your hands full with Alastair. There are a lot of us here. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Rainne sounded resigned. “But if I spot anything from here, I’ll intercom you and let you know.”
“That’s a good plan.” Kirsty breathed a sigh of relief. “That would help. Just don’t attract attention to yourself.”
There was a pause. “I’m scared,” Rainne whispered.
The looks the women shared said they understood totally.
“We all are,” Kirsty told her. “Lake will be here soon, you’ll see. We’ll check in later and let you know what’s happening. If anything changes, call us.”
“I will.” Then there was silence.
Kirsty stared at the silent intercom as Caroline wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“She’s going to be okay,” Caroline said.
The two women headed back to the sofa where they’d been sitting. Joe looked around the rest of the women. He didn’t like this situation one bit. Caroline and Kirsty were holding it together, but he didn’t know for how long. Jena didn’t seem to be worried, but he suspected she was pretending so as not to freak Abby out, which Joe appreciated—the last thing they needed was a freaked-out heavily pregnant woman. Meanwhile, the women of Knit Or Die were in proactive mode, dealing with the stress by trying to keep busy and feign control. Magenta was less sarcastic than usual. Julia was hiding in the bathroom. And Megan...
He looked over to the bed where Megan was questioning their captive, who was more relaxed and amused than threatened. Megan was in her element. Joe suspected that in her head she’d cast herself as Lara Croft in a big-budget action movie. There was no way she’d get any information out of the guy she’d captured. But if it kept her occupied and out of trouble, he was happy to let her try. And if that guy was French, Joe was a freaking Martian.
Jena had found a bag of cookies from somewhere and was dishing them out to the group when Joe held up his hand for silence. He was surprised when he got some. Maybe they could be trained after all.
“We need to barricade the door,” Joe said to Ryan. “Help me pile furniture up against it.”
“Not yet.” Kirsty’s mum pushed through the room holding two bottles of olive oil. “I need to deal with the stairs.”
Before Joe could stop her, she was out the door pouring oil over the wooden stairs and floor. Then she shut the kiddy gate at the top of the stairs for good measure.
Kirsty watched her mother. “I don’t think that gate will stop them getting past, Mum.”
“Every little bit helps,” Margaret said as she came back in the room. She faced the women of Knit Or Die. “Barricade the door, girls.”
The retired women rushed to move furniture against the door. And Joe got the sense he’d lost control of the group.
“Aren’t you going to complain about the oil on the floor?” Kirsty asked Caroline.
“Oil is good for wood,” Caroline said. “I just hope the rest of the castle doesn’t get damaged.” She tugged Joe’s sleeve to make him look at her. “You don’t think they’ll shoot my castle, or break anything, do you?”
Kirsty was shaking her head and waving her arms behind Caroline. Joe got the less-than-subtle message.
“I’m sure they’ll respect this lovely historical building,” he said.
Caroline smiled and everyone else sighed with relief.
“I like zis. It is like, how you say, a sleeping party, non?” the prisoner called from the bed. “I have ze cookie, s’il vous plait?”
Shona looked at Megan to see if the prisoner was allowed a cookie. Megan frowned at her. “No, we’re not giving him a cookie.”
“We’re not doing anything else with him either,” Shona said. “So far you’ve just asked him questions and he’s laughed. Or flirted. You need to up the torture. You need to inflict pain.”
“I know,” Megan wailed. “But this isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”
“Twist his nipples. That’s sore,” Shona suggested. The prisoner looked like he might laugh again.
Megan glared at him, reached to the floor to nab a kitchen knife, then sliced his black shirt wide open. It hung to the sides of his chest, lying flat against his open suede jacket.
“Oh my,” Shona said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a six-pack. Can I touch it?”
“No!” Megan leaned over, pinched a nipple and twisted.
The guy chuckled.
“Anyone else find this deeply disturbing?” Ryan asked. “I feel like I’m watching a really bad porn movie.”
“Try candle wax,” Shona said. “I bet if you pour it on his privates that will make him talk.”
“This is painful to watch. I can’t take any more,” Ryan said. “Step aside, ladies.”
He stalked across the room and punched the guy on the jaw. The prisoner’s head came back around slowly as he licked blood from the corner of his mouth.
“You’ll regret that,” he told Ryan.
Megan shot to her feet. “Where did the French accent go? You’re not French at all, are you?”
The guy gave her a sexy smile. “I can be anything you want me to be, baby.”
Shona reached over and slapped him.
“Shona!” Megan shouted.
“What?” Shona said. “We’re allowed to hit him now. Ryan did it.”
“Tell us what you know,” Ryan barked at the guy.
Joe shook his head. This approach wasn’t going to work either.
“I don’t think so,” the guy said. “I think I’m just going to lie here and enjoy the fun.”
“Bastard,” Ryan said as he lifted his fist.
“No more hitting.” Megan stepped between Ryan and the guy. “There has to be another way.”
“Go ahead. Tickle the answers out of him. I’ll be here when you
give up.” Ryan sauntered back to Joe.
“Feel better now?” Joe asked him.
“Being stuck in here is driving me nuts,” Ryan said.
“Join the club.” Joe watched as Megan ruined her tough-guy act.
“Are you okay?” she asked her captive.
“No,” he said. “Want to kiss it better?”
Megan growled and turned her back on him.
Joe went back to looking out the window. The faint silhouettes of figures standing outside the castle hadn’t moved since they’d come up to the tower.
“Why aren’t they moving in?” Joe muttered.
“Maybe they’re waiting for something,” Ryan said.
Joe tensed. Of course.
“Waiting for what?” Kirsty said.
Joe looked over at her, his lips tight. “More men with transport out of here.”
He watched as the blood drained from her face.
13
* Rainne and Alastair *
Rainne watched Alastair sleep as she paced the tiny room. Eight steps across. Ten if you included the minuscule bathroom, which she didn’t. The gas fire had warmed the place to the point where she was glad she was in her underwear, although she didn’t dare turn down the heat in case Alastair needed it.
She checked the clock on her phone for the hundredth time. Twenty-three minutes. He’d been asleep twenty-three minutes. She promised herself she’d wake him at the hour mark if he didn’t stir before then. She couldn’t leave him longer than that, not while she worried he would never wake up again.
She stopped dead in the middle of the room. What would she do if he didn’t wake up? How would she get help? Everyone she knew was trapped either in the castle or in town. Even if she had a vehicle, she wouldn’t be able to get it through the snow. And she couldn’t leave Alastair alone long enough to fetch help. She wasn’t even sure she’d find town in this weather. Her sense of direction was terrible in daylight with clear skies overhead. She didn’t have a hope in hell when it was dark and thick with snow.
This was bad. It was very, very bad. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this. She knew how to organise a protest march, how to raise hens from eggs, how to buy environmentally sound clothing and, thanks to her recent studies, the basics of running a business. She didn’t have survival skills. Apart from listening to Lake, what little knowledge she did have came from watching Bear Grylls on TV. Now that she thought about it, the skills he shared wouldn’t be any use to her. There would never be an occasion where she’d need to filter her own urine through a sock to make it drinkable. She’d rather die of thirst before she got to that stage.
Here Comes the Rainne Again Page 9
