Chapter 24

 

Callum was living his worst nightmare. In the years since he’d lost his legs, he hadn’t let anyone, except medical staff, see him without his prosthetics. And now here he was, the butt of Ryan’s jokes and a liability to his team. With one leg abandoned in a stone formation and the other sporting a bullet hole, he was officially out of the game. There was no way he’d be able to get replacements fitted in time to help—especially not while he was in a foreign country. He was reduced to letting the concierge in their new hotel find him a wheelchair.

A wheelchair. His team were going to see him in a wheelchair. How the hell could he expect them to let him lead when they saw how weak he really was?

They were staying in the Marriott, which was a couple of blocks away from the Plaza de Armas, where the women had been holed up all afternoon. Their new hotel was only two blocks away from their old hotel. They’d talked about that when they’d been in their stolen car, heading back to the city. They came to the conclusion that there were a lot of hotels around the Plaza de Armas, and a lot of tourists to hide amongst. Plus, the Marriott was the only hotel Callum was sure would cater to someone in a wheelchair. He was risking the team because of his failings.

He looked over at his bathroom with its extra-wide door. The shower was roll-in. There was plenty of space around the bed, and everything was at a height he could reach from a wheelchair.

He hated every single inch of it.

Picking up his phone, he put a call through to Lake.

“Benson,” the taciturn man said.

“We’re in a fucked-up mess.”

“Details,” Lake demanded.

Callum let out a sigh as he reached for the glass of whisky on the night table. He took a hefty gulp, rejoicing in the burn as it made its way to his stomach.

“Ed Sanchez, Joe’s contact, the lawyer. The guy sold us out. Esteban bought him. He led us out of town to give Esteban’s guys a chance to snatch Patricia and the mummy. They didn’t get her, but only because Julia is a genius savant who stores information like a NASA computer. She knew a secret way out of the hotel and got the women to safety.”

“I told you Julia was worth her weight in gold.”

“Aye, you also told me she’d get over her need to hide behind office plants.” He finished his whisky while he tried to remember the last time Julia had hidden from him. Hell, it had to have been back in England. Maybe she was adapting. “Anyway, Ed led us to what he said was a prime location for our fake treasure trove. Instead, he had the cartel men waiting for us. It was an ambush. A bloodbath. There are eleven bodies in a field outside of Cusco.” He paused, hating what he had to confess. “Along with one of my prosthetic legs. The other one is sitting on my bed with a bullet hole in it.”

“Injuries to the team?” It was the same voice Lake had used as operation commander during their time in the SAS.

“Unbelievably? None. The odd scrape and cut, but nothing major. Our worst setback is the fact I’m now confined to a chair.” It turned his stomach to say the words. They were like bile in his mouth. Weak. He was so bloody weak. Half the man he’d once been. Literally.

“Even in your chair, you’re worth more than most men in your situation.”

The only reason Callum didn’t take off Lake’s head for placating him was because he knew his friend wouldn’t dare try. If anyone was going to give it to him straight, it was Lake. He’d just have to quietly accept that on this one point, Lake Benson was completely delusional.

There was a knock at the door. “Concierge.”

“Give me a minute,” he told Lake before shouting, “Come on in.”

The door opened and the man wheeled in a chair. It was to his credit that he hadn’t asked what happened to Callum’s prosthetic legs; instead he’d taken the request for a wheelchair in his stride—especially seeing as Callum didn’t want to borrow or hire one. He wanted to buy one.

“Señor.” The man positioned the chair in front of him, and Callum was relieved to see it was gunmetal grey and not some weird colour, like pink. “Can I help you with anything else?” He eyed the bullet-damaged leg, but his face didn’t even flicker with shock or curiosity.

Callum handed him the leg. “Can you get rid of this?”

“Of course.”

“I need clothes,” Callum said. “In fact, my whole team will need everything. Clothes, toiletries, shoes—the works.”

“If you could supply me with measurements and preferences, I’d be happy to supply your team with a basic closet.”

Callum pulled out his wallet and took out five hundred dollars. “That’s for you.”

The man’s eyebrows arched slightly. He took the money with a gracious nod.

“There will be fifteen hundred more when we leave. As long as there are no questions asked, and if anyone comes looking for us, they don’t find us.”

The man’s eyes hardened. “The privacy of our guests is paramount in this hotel.”

“Then we have an agreement.”

“A pleasure. Please call with your team’s details.”

“I will.”

The guy nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

“I wish I could hire ten guys like the concierge here,” he told Lake. “He does as he’s told, he’s discreet and he doesn’t talk back.”

Lake snorted, which could have been his version of a laugh. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m calling in your contacts—apart from that, I’ll need to get back to you with the details. Can you ask them to stay on standby?”

“Already done.”

“When I get back to the office, there will be no personal time for anybody ever again. Don’t fight me on this. I’m serious. I’m fed up with rushing into the chaos of our staff’s lives without proper planning and preparation. This would never have happened in the service.”

“And you wouldn’t have made the money you’re making now there, either.”

Lake’s words cut through Callum. He remembered Joe’s emotionless recounting of Ed’s last minutes. Money sure as hell wasn’t all it was cut out to be.

“I need to go,” Callum said.

“Stay in touch.” The line went dead.

Callum tossed the phone onto the bed beside him, pulled the chair over and heaved his body into it. He needed a shower.

And then he needed to face his team.

In a wheelchair and powerless to help them.

He wondered what he’d see on their faces when they realised that their boss had turned from an asset into a hindrance. He bet it was nothing he’d want to see. Sometimes, on dark days, he wished the roadside bomb that had ruined his life had taken more than his legs. He wished it had taken all of him.

With a push of the wheels, he headed for the bathroom.