Reckless (Benson's Boys Book 1)

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

She rolled her forehead on the glass, letting the solidity of it press against the bone. It was a stupid question. One that only made her feel ill with the implications of it. The truth was that there was no choice here. She couldn’t let Durand take Katrina’s life when it was really hers he wanted. There was no running away. No hiding. No hoping someone else would step in in her stead. This was her mess and she was going to sort it out.

  A thump at the door jerked her out of her thoughts. Her eyes shot open and she stared at her reflection. Dark circles under blue eyes. Pale skin, made more so by stress.

  “Yeah?” she called, proud her voice betrayed none of her inner turmoil.

  “We’re heading down. One minute.” She heard Ryan’s boots shuffle on the spot outside the door. “No one will blame you if you back out, Megan. No one will think badly of you.”

  “I would,” she whispered to her image.

  Right now, she could look herself in the eye. If she left Katrina with Durand, she wouldn’t be able to do that. Not ever again. She took a shaky breath and opened the door.

  “You okay?” Ryan ran his knuckles over her cheek.

  “Yeah.” She pushed her shoulders back. “I’m ready.”

  His eyes softened. “Callum and I won’t let you out of our sight. We’ll have you covered constantly.”

  “I know.” She also knew he couldn’t make any promises. They had no control over this situation. Durand had made sure they had no time to prepare. They were going in blind.

  He gave her an admiring nod before turning. They headed through her bedroom and out into the sitting room. The mood was sombre. Megan looked at each of the faces in turn.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she said. “Do I need to remind everyone that I can take care of myself?”

  No one smiled at her joke.

  “I wish you were going in armed.” Elle shuffled nervously on the spot. Her usual bright blue hair looked dull and sad. “Or at least wired for sound and GPS.”

  They both knew the first thing Durand would do would be to check her for any sort of tech or weapon. She had to go in bare, with only herself to rely on.

  And her team. She had to trust they’d get her out of whatever happened.

  Rachel stepped forward. Her lips were pinched, her eyes dark. Arms folded over a beige Chanel pantsuit, she looked dressed for the boardroom—at five thirty in the morning. Megan shook her head at the sight.

  “Say the word,” Rachel said. “I’ll get you on another plane and out of here. You don’t have to do this. We will come up with something else.” There was no doubting she was completely and utterly serious.

  “I appreciate it, Rach, really, I do.” But she couldn’t accept.

  Rachel nodded. “Think about it. You have a thirty minute drive. You can abort at any time.”

  “You keep talking like that and I’ll think you care,” Megan told her. “It may even make me want to hug you.”

  Rachel hurriedly took a step back.

  Julia rushed up to Megan’s side and put her arms around her. She squeezed hard.

  “This is all my fault,” her friend said. “I should have locked away the files on Dimitri’s sister, then Durand would never have known we were looking for her.”

  Megan hugged Julia back, more for herself than her friend. In that moment, she really wished her twin was there. She always felt more confident when there were two of them. She’d wanted to send a text message to Claire, but thought better of it. The only thing she could think of to write were the words Captain Lawrence Oates said before he went for a suicidal walk in the Antarctic, in an attempt to save the rest of his expedition team: “I am just going outside, I may be some time.” She didn’t think Claire would appreciate the joke.

  “It’s not your fault,” she told Julia again. “You couldn’t have known Durand would break into the office. If it wasn’t Katrina, he would have found something else to use against us. At least this way we know where Katrina is and we know how to get her back. That’s good, right?” She tried to give Julia a reassuring smile, but didn’t quite pull it off.

  Julia’s eyes were filled with unshed tears, but she forced a smile. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

  “Good. We’re seriously going to need a girls’ night after this is over.” Megan saw Callum shift in place and knew he was straining to leave.

  No one said a word when Megan shrugged into Dimitri’s denim jacket instead of the coat Rachel had bought for her. She rolled up the too long sleeves, inhaling deeply to pull the scent into her lungs. She wished he was there with her. Dumb. If he was he’d just drive her crazy trying to keep her safe, when they both knew that wasn’t possible. Not in this situation.

  “Ready?” Callum said.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.” She gave one last smile to her teammates. No, her friends. As they headed out of the suite, she looked up at Callum. “I don’t think it’s fair that I don’t get to wear a tactical vest. The guys got to wear them when they went on their mission.”

  “We’ll get you one when this is over,” Callum promised as they stepped into the elevator.

  She stood between Ryan and her boss, letting them protect her by their presence when it really wasn’t needed. Letting them do it now, because she knew it would be unlikely they’d be able to do it later.

  “Can mine be pink?” she asked her boss.

  “It can have glitter and bows if you get your backside out of this in one piece.” His words were a growl.

  “You’re on.” Megan tugged Dimitri’s jacket tight around her and followed the men out into the early morning darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The final destination was texted to them when they hit Norwood Junction in South London. It was an abandoned school, slated for demolition. At only five minutes’ drive from their location, the building was wedged between a recreation reserve and an empty industrial estate. It was an isolated area, away from residential streets and with plenty of access points. A warren of buildings was interspersed with wide open spaces that were easy to monitor. The perfect meeting ground.

  The one storey, square 1970s construct was cordoned off with tall wire barriers emblazoned with large red letters: DANGER. Behind the barriers the school was lit up with floodlights.

  Ryan scowled at the lights. “They’ll see us coming a mile off.”

  “I don’t see any other cars.” Callum stared at the building. “Those lights are blinding us. I can’t see if there’s anyone on the roof.”

  “I’d put someone on the roof.” Ryan pulled the car up at an angle to the front of the building.

  “Aye. So would I.”

  It wasn’t reassuring to hear Callum’s agreement. She looked at the men in their armour plated vests. “I really wish I had a tactical vest.”

  “Babe,” Ryan said. “If there’s a sniper up there, he’ll aim for your head. A vest wouldn’t be much use.”

  Megan’s eyes shot to his and saw his grin. She burst out laughing. So what if it was a touch hysterical. It helped. She gave his arm a quick squeeze in thanks and he winked at her.

  Callum’s phone buzzed. “It’s Elle. She’s got a floor plan of the school.” He stared at the screen. “There’s a main corridor from that door. It goes to a central atrium then shoots off into two other corridors that circle the school. There are fourteen exits.” His jaw clenched. “He could be stationed at any one of them.”

  His phone buzzed again. “Durand.” He spat the word. “He knows we’re here. He wants you to walk in the front door. He’ll have Katrina walk out.”

  Megan concentrated on her manicure to stop from passing out. The pink polish was chipped. Spa day. That’s what she needed. A spa day with her sister and the rest of her gang. Claire already got on well with Julia and she’d love Elle. Hell, she’d even invite Rachel along, so long as she promised not to fight with Harry’s wife Magenta. Yeah, she needed a spa day.

  A hand on her shoulder. “You ready?”

  “Yep.” This was it. As r
eady as she would ever get.

  “We’ll get you out.” The firm line of Callum’s jaw betrayed the depth of his resolve.

  “I know.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

  They climbed out of the car. The men drew their sidearms. Together they headed towards the double doors at the front of the building. Megan kept her eyes glued to the doors as Callum and Ryan scanned their surroundings, ready to react to the slightest threat.

  They made it to the entrance without incident. Megan clutched the metal handle that was worn and scratched from years of use. Through the glass panes she could see that the lights from outside had bled into the building. A figure stepped out at the other end of the corridor. Then two. Three.

  In the dim light Megan could make out a woman between two men, but nothing else.

  This was it. No going back—even if she wanted to. She thought she’d be more nervous, maybe even physically sick. Instead all she felt was a strange sense of calm. Of rightness.

  “Tell Claire to name the baby Megan. And tell Dimitri…” She shook her head as her throat tightened. “Tell him, I kept my promise. He doesn’t have to choose.”

  The men were silent. She looked up into Callum’s dark eyes. There was nothing else to say. Nothing that his body language and eyes weren’t already shouting at her. She knew any of the men would run into this situation in her place. She knew they hated letting her go. She knew they would do everything possible to stop Durand from taking her from this building. She also knew that if he did manage to take her, they’d raise hell to find her and get her home.

  Megan went up on tiptoe and kissed Callum’s cheek. “It’s okay. I can do this.”

  With that, she pulled open the door and stepped into the corridor. Torn linoleum underfoot. Faded green walls covered in graffiti tags. Broken glass from smashed windows that crunched with each step.

  “Send Katrina.” Callum’s order came from behind her.

  Without looking, she knew they were standing in the doorway, Ryan guarding Callum’s back while he kept his gun trained on the men at the other end of the corridor. The woman between them was shoved forward. She stumbled, then hurried forward down the corridor. Megan heard a sob and anger flared inside her, a white hot flame that wouldn’t be snuffed until Durand paid.

  Shadows. Torn pictures painted by kids long gone. Rat droppings. Light fittings hanging from the ceiling. Tiles torn out from above her, now on the floor. She took it all in with every step that brought her closer to the man who hunted her.

  When she came level with Dimitri’s sister she paused. The woman was wrapped in a thin white robe, nothing more. Her long dark hair was matted. She was thin, frail. Her face was gaunt, her eyes wide and haunted. Megan reached for her. Katrina jerked back as though expecting a blow and Megan’s rage blazed brighter. Slowly, she placed her hand on Katrina’s fragile arm.

  “You’ll be safe now. I promise,” Megan said to her. “Tell your brother, I love him.”

  She saw the flare of hope in Katrina’s eyes at the realisation she’d see her brother. Hope and determination. Strength. With that one look, Megan knew it wasn’t too late for the woman. She had the same spine of steel as her brother.

  “Don’t let them break you.” Katrina’s voice was a rasp. It was advice borne of bitter experience and of victory.

  “I do the breaking, honey,” Megan whispered back.

  She gave Katrina’s arm one more squeeze as Durand’s voice echoed down the corridor. “I have a gun pointed at both of your heads. Walk to me now, Megan, or you both die.”

  “You are such an asshole,” Megan shouted back and felt Katrina stiffen under her touch.

  Megan glanced down at the smaller woman and noticed she was barefoot.

  “Ryan?” she shouted as she continued her walk to Durand. “She’s barefoot and there’s glass.”

  “Don’t shoot,” Callum shouted. “We’re going to pick her up.”

  She heard running and knew Ryan would help Katrina the rest of the way.

  “I won’t shoot,” Durand called. “Not if I get what I want.”

  Megan came to a stop a couple of feet in front of Durand. He was decked out the way Hollywood thought mercenaries should look. Camouflage pants and jacket, sidearm harness and leather half gloves. Oh yeah, and a checked scarf around his neck to keep out the sand. Sand. In South London. She almost rolled her eyes.

  “Hi Renny,” she said. “How’s your backside? Still sore?”

  The smack came out of nowhere. A backhand across her cheekbone that sent her to the floor. There was a roar from the other end of the corridor. Callum. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. If they thought she was going easy, they were wrong. She elbowed the guy in the gut. Another bloody armour-plated vest. Pain spasmed through her body from her elbow.

  “Move, move,” Durand shouted, and then she was being dragged away from the corridor.

  Away from Callum and Ryan.

  Away from freedom.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Move it. Move it.” Dimitri bellowed the order, even though he knew logically that the car was going as fast as it could.

  Gold from the street lamps lit their way to the destination Elle had sent them. The streets were a blur of Victorian terraced houses and multi-levelled office buildings. They swerved past cars, causing horns to blast. Not caring.

  “Comms on.” Lake barked out a frequency. “Callum, you hearing me?”

  Nothing.

  Dimitri gripped the panic handle as the car swerved around a corner.

  “Callum, come in.”

  Silence.

  “There’s about four hundred exits in this place,” Joe complained as he studied the map Elle had sent. “The guys have the front. We spread out. A side each.”

  There was no argument.

  “Callum?” Lake shot round another corner taking the SUV to two wheels.

  It still wasn’t fast enough. What if he didn’t make it? What if he was too late? Dimitri clenched his fist so hard he thought he felt bone snap.

  “Callum, come in.”

  “Callum here,” came the voice, and relief swept through the car.

  “Report.” Lake shot through a red light.

  “We’ve got her. We’ve got Katrina.”

  Dimitri’s head fell back as he stared at the roof of the car. Thank you, God.

  “Status?” Thankfully Lake asked because Dimitri couldn’t speak yet.

  “She’s in one piece. Ryan’s taking her to hospital.”

  She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay…

  “Megan?” Lake cast a glance over to him before focusing on the road again.

  “They have her.”

  It was like a punch to the gut.

  “I’m covering the front,” Callum’s voice was lethal. “I can’t see the other exits. No sound of a vehicle. They’re still on site.”

  Good. That was good.

  “Coming up on your location now. We’re heading to the rear of the school.”

  “Roger that.”

  There was silence. The car screeched to a halt beside a metal barrier. The men were out of the SUV and over the fence before the engine died. Lake signalled to them and they spread out, keeping low, using construction equipment and overgrown bushes to avoid the lights.

  A shot kicked up the dirt beside Dimitri. He pressed flat against rusted playground equipment. “Shooter on the roof. My side.”

  “Take out the lights,” Lake replied.

  There were a series of shots and the place fell into darkness. Silence. Stillness. No one moved.

  “Move in,” Lake ordered.

  Easier now there was darkness, the men crept to the building. Another shot hit the metal climbing frame beside Dimitri.

  “Can you see him?” Callum’s voice.

  “No. He’s got me pinned.” Dimitri could hear seconds ticking loudly in his head. Each one took Megan further from him. He kept his ears peeled for the sound of a car. None. She w
as still here.

  “I’m on the roof.” Joe’s voice. “I see the bastard.” There was a grunt. “Threat disabled.”

  Dimitri came out of hiding and ran low to the building. No more shots from the roof.

  “There are skylights up here.” Joe again. “I’m going to scout, see if I can spot her.”

  Dimitri pressed his back to the stucco wall. The cold was barely noticeable. He held his gun up as he spun and checked his line of sight through the smashed window. Empty. A minute later he was up and inside the old classroom. The walls were covered in graffiti, the furniture was long gone. Torn paper and leaves littered the floor.

  “I’m in.” He made his way silently to the door.

  “I’m in.” It was Grunt.

  “Northwest sector,” came Joe’s voice. “I count four men. Running.”

  There was gunfire. “Two men. Northeast sector.” Lake’s voice.

  “I see her,” Joe again. “Northwest.”

  “Lake?” Grunt asked.

  “I’ve got this,” Lake barked. “Get Megan.”

  Dimitri kept low, back to the wall, gun high as he headed in the direction of his woman.

  Gunfire? Gunfire! The noise cut through Megan’s bruised brain, her thoughts dulled from where she’d hit her head on the floor after being struck. She was being dragged along the corridor, her hands secured behind her back. Durand wasn’t taking any chances—the man walked behind her. She smirked at that. Ahead of her were two other men. Four huge men, all carrying massive guns. Yeah. It didn’t look good escape-wise.

  On the other hand, it sounded like she didn’t have to escape. It sounded like she was being rescued. Yay for her.

  Durand muttered something behind her and she realised he was talking into a comms unit. She caught the words, two down, and grinned. Her team were here and they were cleaning house.

  “Change direction,” Durand snapped. “West exit. They’re heading to the north. Fritz,” he shouted at a man in front of Megan. “Get the vehicle. Keep it running outside the west exit.”

  The guy jogged off. Megan looked up at the monster holding her. His fingers dug into her arm hard enough to bruise. “Is his name really Fritz?” The guy’s eyes were dead. As in, nobody home. He just stared at her. “Really,” she said. “It’s no wonder he’s taken to a life of crime. There can’t be that many career options open to you when you’re called Fritz.”