CHAPTER 12

ISOBEL LEANED OVER THE TINY basin in the staff toilet of the store and looked at the reflection above it. Her eyes were red and swollen, but at least she’d managed to stop the tears. Her throat was still raw from emptying her stomach into the toilet, and she was shivering. Slowly, gently, she lifted the hem of her shirt to see the damage.

She gasped at the sight of the darkening bruise developing low on her ribs. Blinking back yet more tears, Isobel gently prodded the red area and winced. It was too sensitive to tell if Ray had cracked any ribs. The only way to know for sure was to get an x-ray, and there was no way she was going anywhere near a hospital. The doctors would take one look at the fist mark, complete with ring imprints, on her side and call the police. What she needed to do was get home and put some ice on it. But that wasn’t going to be possible until she finished her shift.

With a wince, Isobel lowered the shirt and leaned forward to press her forehead against the mirror. She should have been thinking about her ribs, or about the body in her freezer, or about the slight possibility she could be carrying Callum’s child. Instead, all she could think about were ways she could possibly get the money for Eddie. Her sisters weren’t much better off than she was; none of them had the money to give her to pay off the loan shark. But somehow, someway, she had to find the cash. She swallowed a sob that threatened.

After Ray had hit her and her knees had given way, he’d held her up and whispered to her, “When Eddie’s done with you, you’re mine.” And then he’d sauntered back to the car while she leaned against the wall.

The whole thing had taken seconds. No one had witnessed the assault. No one had run to help. She was on her own, as she usually was.

“Are you going to stay in there all day?” Edna shouted as she thumped on the door. “I’m not paying you for this. You haven’t done any work today.”

Isobel blinked away her tears, splashed water on her face and opened the door. Edna had her arms folded under her bosom and was tapping the toe of her gold sequined heels.

“I’m s-sick.” Isobel couldn’t look Edna in the eye. “I’ll be out soon.”

“I heard you vomit,” Edna said. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant again. Who does it belong to this time?”

“I ate something that disagreed with me.” Isobel wished Edna would go away. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Uh huh.” Edna’s voice held a smirk, making it clear she didn’t believe a word Isobel told her.

No doubt, everyone who came through the shop would hear about how Isobel Sinclair had managed to get herself knocked up again. Isobel was past caring. On her list of worries, Edna ranked pretty low.

“I’m not paying you for the time you waste,” Edna called. “I’m keeping a record.”

Isobel sat on the toilet lid and pulled out her phone. With shaky fingers, she tapped Callum’s number. It rang twice before he answered.

“McKay,” he barked, and the antisocial tone was a strange comfort to Isobel.

“Callum, it’s me, Isobel.” She worked hard to keep her voice from giving away that she was hurt and upset. As tempting as it was to throw herself on Callum’s strength and beg him to fix everything, Isobel was beyond the age of believing in white knights.

“What’s wrong?” He sounded alert, and she could hear traffic in the background, which meant he was driving somewhere. She had a sudden moment of panic that he might be driving to get away from her and her problems. She swallowed it down.

“Edna told me that two houses on the bluff had people sneaking around them last night. One was broken into.”

“Cops called?”

“Yeah, but nothing was taken and no one was arrested. The police think it was kids messing around.” She took a deep, shaky breath and wiped away the tear that was rolling down her cheek. “They’re looking for the body, or the people who took it, aren’t they?”

“Aye.”

“Callum, is it possible we’re wrong and the guys assumed the body had been taken out to sea?”

“Your sisters’ and your footprints are all over the area. It’s clear from looking at them that you were carrying something heavy back up the bluff.”

“This is bad, isn’t it?”

“Aye.” A pause. “But I have a plan.”

Isobel swallowed hard at the utter confidence in his voice. What would it feel like to have such confidence? To not feel as though life buffeted you continuously? To feel in control of the things that were happening instead of being forced to react all the time? She couldn’t even imagine a life like that.

“I’m sorry I was forced to pull you into this,” she said. “But I’m really glad you’re here.”

There was silence for a moment.

“I’ll be at your place this evening,” Callum said.

“I’ll make dinner,” Isobel said, but he was already gone.

There was a loud smack at the door. “Are you coming out of there? Or are you talking to the father of your new bairn?”

“There’s no baby!” Isobel put her phone away and splashed water on her face. When she threw open the bathroom door, Edna was smirking at her.

“Whatever you say,” she said.

Isobel pushed past her and got back to work.

As soon as Callum ended the call with Isobel, he knew what he had to do. He was just putting it off until he had the words he needed to do it. They were in over their heads. Whatever Isobel had stumbled into was much bigger and much more dangerous than he’d first thought.

He rubbed his thigh and wheeled his chair into the kitchen, where he’d left his phone. Once back from Campbeltown, knowing he’d be at Isobel’s house for another night, he’d taken the opportunity to give his legs a rest from his prosthetics. He also needed to charge the things, something he hadn’t quite gotten used to. But the processor that powered the legs and made them function almost exactly like real legs needed to be charged. He thought of Isobel and what her reaction might be if he told her he needed to take his legs off and recharge them. Not that she would ever find out about his missing limbs. But he thought her reaction might be humorous. He could see her getting a kick out of saying, Callum’s charging his legs.

He looked at the clock, knowing he was running out of time. It was now or never. It was time for him to swallow his pride and ask for help from the people he’d turned his back on months earlier. Callum swivelled his chair towards the bedroom, to pick up his legs, and hesitated.

Since walking out of Benson Security four months earlier, Callum had only seen and spoken to his partner Lake Benson. He’d avoided everyone else. He’d ignored calls, deleted emails and refused to open his door when they called. Part of him wanted to continue to keep them at a distance, to write an email asking for help, or leave a message. But they deserved more than that. They deserved to see him in the raw, without pretending to be something he wasn’t. They deserved to see him face reality. And that reality was that he was half a man, in need of help.

With determination, or bloody-mindedness, Callum rolled to the corner of the kitchen and stared up at the camera, the one he’d been too damn busy to remove.

“Elle? You there? I need you to listen to me. I figure, knowing you, that you’ll have some software running to alert you if I suddenly start ranting about killing myself. So I’m going to sit here and say every word I think might trigger your program, until you text me and let me know you’re listening. And, for the record, Betty, I know you’re watching too, and I don’t want you to call. This is between me and the London team.”

There was silence. Callum kept his eyes on the camera and started a list of words that would freak Elle out. “Death, suicide, gun, bullet to the brain…”

He didn’t get very far before the phone in his pocket vibrated. Callum dug it out and found he was holding his breath as he read the message:

We’re here.

Good. That was good. Okay. He could do this. He’d done worse. He could do this. He broke out in a sweat and had to fight the urge to rub his palms on his jeans.

“Thanks,” he said to the camera. “So here’s the thing. I have a bit of a situation and I…I need help.” He folded his hands tightly against his chest, aware that if they were loose in his lap, Elle might see the tremble.

He’d rather crawl through a war zone, with enemy fire aimed at his head, than lay himself bare before anyone. But he owed them this. He owed them honesty. He owed them part of himself—even if it meant he had to tear off a bloody piece and hand it over.

“One of the local women, Isobel Sinclair, has stumbled into something dangerous. It looks like there are smugglers using the local cove for access to the road system. Yesterday these unknown men left a dead body on the beach. And Isobel, in her infinite wisdom, thought the best thing to do with it was put it in her freezer and call me instead of the cops.”

He looked around for a second, searching for the right words. None came to him. All he could do was stumble on. Were they laughing at him? Were they scoffing about his sudden need for help when he’d been so quick to kick them out of his life months earlier? He swallowed hard. Damn, he wished he could look them in the eye and see how they were taking this. He’d never humbled himself before anyone in his life, and here he was doing it to a camera instead of a person. Anxiety made him want to rage, to tell them he’d changed his mind and storm away to be alone. But he’d spent too much time by himself already. Now he needed help. He needed his team.

He looked back at the camera. “I know I was a bastard when I left. I haven’t changed. Don’t think that. I didn’t ask to be involved in Isobel’s problems and I wish I wasn’t. I’d walk away if I could.”

He wet his suddenly dry lips. “I think Isobel might be pregnant. With my child. Until I know for sure, one way or the other, she’s my responsibility and this mess is my mess. Which means I’m asking one of you to step into my personal situation—and you know how I feel about running personal missions for the team.” Memories of whining about helping Dimitri find his sister and Julia get her grandmother out of jail flooded his mind. “Like I said, I’m an arsehole.”

It was humiliating coming face to face with the reality of just how much of a dick he’d been.

“I don’t know what I’m dealing with here, but my instincts are going crazy. I know you’re overloaded with work.” More so since he’d walked out. “Any help you can spare would be good. I’ll pay the going rate.”

There was nothing else to say. Either they forgave him, or they didn’t. It was out of his hands now. “Let me know what you think. I’ll be at Isobel’s and I’ll have my phone.”

He turned away from the camera and rolled down the hall to the bedroom, feeling painfully raw and vulnerable. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care whether or not they wanted to help him. If push came to shove, he could phone Lake and organise for him to send a man from the Invertary office. Or he could go it alone. Which was what he’d wanted when he kicked everyone he knew out of his life. But the truth was that he didn’t want some random guy he didn’t know from Lake’s team. He wanted his team at his back.

His hand was on his bedroom doorknob when his phone buzzed. With trepidation, Callum checked the message.

On our way.

Boss.

And Callum smiled.