CHAPTER 27

SILENCE HAD NEVER BEEN SO oppressive. Waiting had never felt so torturous. Sophie had fallen asleep in Isobel’s arms, exhausted from all the emotion and trauma she’d been forced to deal with. Jack was lying on the wooden door, on top of the bath. A tube ran from his arm to the bag of fluids hanging from the shower curtain rail above him. The dressing on his abdomen was getting redder by the minute, but the blood wasn’t pouring out of him anymore.

“I wish I was out there,” Megan said softly.

She sat on the floor facing the door, her back to the bath and her legs stretched out in front of her.

“You do?” Isobel couldn’t comprehend such a thing. She wanted to be as far away from the guns and violence as possible.

“I’m only a trainee badass. I’m not allowed to play with the big boys until I graduate.” Megan thought about it for a minute. “I need to ask someone how long this traineeship is. That was never specified.”

Elle snorted a strained laugh. She was sitting Buddha style in the corner beside the door. “The answer is that it will never end. There’s no way they’ll trust you enough to let you out of the trainee programme.”

“I’m beginning to think that there is no trainee programme,” Megan said with a frown. “I suspect they just labelled me a trainee because I wouldn’t go away.”

“And because you were a loose cannon who needed to learn how to play with others.”

Megan shrugged. “That too. I still wish I was out there, though. I really want to shoot these bastards.” She looked at Sophie and winced. “She’s asleep, right? My sister Claire has twin babies, and she’s always telling me to watch my language around them.”

“She’s asleep,” Isobel confirmed, and her eyes strayed to Jack again.

“This isn’t your fault,” Elle said.

Isobel turned to look at her. “I know. I did feel responsible, because I was the one who found the bag and sold its contents, and the one who moved the body. But then I realised I wasn’t the one using the cove for illegal activity. And I didn’t slit that man’s throat. And I didn’t blow up my house. And I didn’t come here and stab my son. This isn’t on me. It’s on them.”

“Well said,” Megan said. “Let’s hope the boys shoot them all.”

They sat in silence again, straining to hear the slightest sound that would let them know what was happening. There was nothing. Isobel was so tense that she thought she might have a heart attack from the stress of it all.

“Twenty minutes to go,” Elle said. “Someone should come to help us soon.”

“The thumping stopped,” Megan said. “I think the morons eventually figured out that they couldn’t get through the door.”

“I wish Callum wasn’t out there,” Isobel said before she could stop herself. She knew he was more than capable and used to dealing with combat, but he was out there. Cornered. Waiting for an attack.

“This is what they do,” Elle said. “I’m the computer person. I’m normally in an office, behind a desk. But these guys thrive on this stuff. They don’t react like normal people. When you and I have gunmen bearing down on us, we freak out, we scream, we cry. These guys get calm, efficient. All their training kicks in and they block out everything except the fight in front of them. They were made to function like this. We don’t understand it, but they are the best at what they do.”

“Plus,” Megan said, “if Dimitri gets shot, I’ve told him no nooky for at least six months. It’s important to reinforce their motivation. Like puppies. They need training.”

The blonde seemed completely serious, and Isobel caught Elle’s eyes and saw that she too was caught between amusement and bewilderment. Isobel thought Megan would fit right in with the men on the other side of the door. There was a certain bloody-thirsty attitude about her.

“I hope you get to graduate to full-fledged badass soon,” Isobel said. “You look like you’d really enjoy shooting people.” Elle smothered a laugh, and Isobel flushed. “That didn’t come out how I intended.”

Megan grinned. “It sounded totally fine to me.”

“Eighteen minutes,” Elle said.

“I wish Callum was in here,” Isobel said again. “Sorry.”

“You’re crazy about him, aren’t you?” Elle said.

Isobel looked at her son and then at her sleeping daughter. “He’s the best man I’ve ever met.”

“But grumpy, right?” Megan said. “I mean, terrifyingly grumpy. Don’t you think?”

Elle leaned forward and smacked Megan’s leg. “He isn’t grumpy with her.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Megan looked at Isobel. “So when this is over, you totally have to come to London and hang out with Callum all the time. Sex obviously improves his disposition, and we could use a lighter atmosphere around the office.”

Elle groaned. “You look at the two of us and you’d think the one with the blue hair must be the strange one. But you’d be wrong.”

“What?” Megan said. “What did I say? She doesn’t have a house. It blew up. She obviously loves Callum, and Callum loves her. Callum has a house. A big house. Where else is she going to go? And if Callum gets sex out of the deal, and we get a mellow boss, who loses here?”

Isobel found herself smiling and shaking her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have a tendency to rush into relationships, and it never goes well. I’ve only known Callum a few days.”

“Yeah,” Megan said. “But they were intense days. And intense days should be measured like dog years. Emotionally, you’ve known him about a decade.”

“Please come to London,” Elle said. “I could use someone normal to talk to.”

Isobel smiled. “He hasn’t asked me.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to go, but there still hadn’t been a conversation.

“Maybe you should ask him,” Megan said. “Girl power and all that.”

That wasn’t going to happen. Isobel reached forward and held Jack’s hand. He was still breathing normally, and that was good. She knew the women were trying to keep her mind off things and keep her calm. She appreciated it, she did, but it didn’t change the fact that she was barricaded in a bathroom with her seriously injured son and her traumatised daughter.

“Fifteen minutes,” Elle said. “Why does time slow down when you want it to pass?”

“Horrible things always slow down time,” Megan said. “Like childbirth. Claire said her labour lasted almost four months. Grunt said it felt like longer.”

“Grunt?” Isobel said.

“My monosyllabic brother-in-law. Built like a mountain. Looks like King Kong. Talks in grunts.”

“Oh.” Isobel looked at the door, wishing she could see through it to the rooms beyond. Was Callum even still out there? Had he gone out to fight the men upstairs? Would they hear it down here if he had?

“Fourteen minutes,” Elle said.

“Stop counting. You’re making it worse,” Megan said.

And then an explosion rocked them. Isobel dove for the space on the floor between the toilet and the bath, holding Jack’s hand and keeping Sophie pressed tightly to her. Sophie woke and started crying. Another explosion. Shouting. Another explosion, smaller this time.

And then the gunfire started.

They came through in three areas. A blast took out a section of the ceiling above the kitchen area, another the ceiling in one of the bedrooms and a third came from the tunnel. Callum was positioned behind the kitchen counter and fired up into the hole above him. Shots came back, but it was hard to tell if he hit anything.

He heard Dimitri rushing into the bedroom, and more shots were fired.

“We’re going to die,” Ryan said as he crouched beside Callum and fired at the tunnel. “And we’re running out of ammo.”

They heard a grunt from the bedroom, and a man came flying out into the living area, followed by Dimitri. He launched himself at the militia guy, taking him out with a kick to the head. He grabbed the guy’s ammunition belt, tossed his gun to Callum and strode back into the bedroom. A few seconds later, there was another explosion.

Ryan fired into the hole that had been blown through the tunnel barricade. “Building that barricade was a waste of bloody time.”

Dimitri came running back in and headed straight for the kitchen. “Cover me.”

Callum aimed into the hole above the kitchen and fired rapidly. Dimitri ran to a spot under it and lobbed a grenade through the hole.

The explosion brought down more of the ceiling. There was a scream. A gunshot. Silence.

“They’re killing their wounded,” Ryan said.

At the other end of the room, the rubble shifted and the muzzle of an automatic weapon poked through the debris blocking the tunnel entrance.

“Take cover!” Callum ordered.

The men dove for the floor as bullets sprayed the room.

They heard a thud, and someone landed on the floor beside Ryan. Ryan was on his feet in a second, knocking the gun away from the militia guy and kneeing him in the stomach. Ryan shoved him back into the living area and followed.

“Dimitri, the automatic,” Callum called.

“On it.”

Callum aimed for the hole in the ceiling and pulled the trigger as soon as he saw something. There was a grunt, and a man fell into the basement, landing in front of Callum. He was dead. Callum helped himself to his gun. Ammo wasn’t going to be a problem after all.

Ryan was fighting hard with the other militia man.

“Get it done,” Callum said.

Dimitri had snuck up beside the hole into the tunnel. The automatic weapon poked through again.

“Down!” Dimitri shouted as he lunged at the gun, shoving the muzzle upwards so that it sprayed the ceiling. His other hand thrust his gun into the space the automatic had poked through, and fired several shots. He yanked the automatic from the dead man’s grip, turned it and fired into the tunnel.

Ryan took the guy he was fighting to the ground, yanked his knife from his belt and twisted it into the man’s side.

“What took you so long?” Callum asked.

“Dickhead was hard to kill.” Ryan got to his feet, taking the dead man’s weapon with him.

There was a thud, and Callum turned in time to see a grenade land about a foot from him.

“Fire in the hole!”

He threw himself over the kitchen counter just as the blast went off.

Two more men dropped through the hole in the ceiling following the blast. Callum rolled to his back and shot at them. Another blast rocked the house above them. A militia guy ran into the living area from the bedroom. He aimed at Dimitri. Ryan was on him instantly, taking the man down. Gunfire rang out in the house above them. There was shouting. Running.

Dimitri covered the tunnel while Ryan covered the hole in the bedroom ceiling. Callum got into a better position to fire at anything he saw through the gap that used to be the floor of his kitchen upstairs.

More gunfire. This time farther away.

“I think our boys are here,” Ryan said.

There was a noise from above.

“Don’t shoot,” someone called. “This is the Strathclyde armed response unit. Put down your guns.”

Callum wasn’t taking any chances. “This is Callum McKay of Benson Security. I’d rather you show yourself first, and then I’ll put down my gun.”

“Callum,” someone he recognised called. “It’s clear up here.” Lake Benson peered through the gap in the ceiling. “Casualties?”

“One. Jack Sinclair. Sixteen years old. Stab wound to the abdomen.”

Lake stood back and spoke to someone else. Ryan and Dimitri came into the room, guns in hand. Dimitri held out a hand to help Callum to his feet. His right leg didn’t work properly and the knee wouldn’t bend.

“That’s seventy thousand pounds down the drain,” Callum said.

“Seriously,” Ryan said, “you don’t have insurance?”

“I don’t think gunfire is covered.”

Lake’s face appeared again. “Get the door unblocked. The stairs are still functional. We have an ambulance on its way, ten minutes out. We’ll get the boy to Campbeltown hospital.”

Ryan and Dimitri started clearing rubbish from the door as Callum limped to the bathroom.

“Megan, don’t shoot,” Callum shouted. “It’s safe to come out. Do you hear me?”

“About time,” Megan shouted back.

He leaned against the wall, listening to the women clear the door. It flew open with a bang, and Isobel rushed out to him. She launched herself at him, and he caught her. Elle followed with Sophie, who watched everything with wide, red-rimmed eyes. Callum wrapped his arms around Isobel. She pressed her face to him and sobbed.

“It’s okay. It’s over.” He stroked her hair and held out an arm for Sophie. His heart turned over when she held her arms out and leaned towards him. He gathered her to him. “It’s okay,” he told them. “I’ve got you now.”

Ryan opened the steel-plated door, and Lake walked in. As usual, the Englishman looked like he’d been to the country club instead of in a gunfight.

“About time you got here,” Callum said.

Lake’s mouth twitched into his approximation of a smile. “We managed to hitch a copter ride from Glasgow, otherwise you’d still be waiting for your rescue.”

“Rescue.” Callum scoffed. “We were handling it.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “We didn’t need no rescue.”

Lake’s lip twitched again as he signalled to two members of his team, whom Callum hadn’t met, and they rushed into the bathroom. “We’ll get the boy upstairs. The ambulance should be here any minute.”

Isobel pulled back from him and made to rush into the bathroom after Lake’s men. Callum held her in place. “Let them get him out. We’ll go with them.”

“Be careful going up the stairs,” Lake said. “You’re missing some of the steps. And your house is rubble.”

“Figures.” Callum didn’t care. He was holding the woman he loved, and that was all that mattered.

“Does this mean you’re coming back to Benson Security?” Lake said as the men carried Jack past him on the closet door.

“Arsehole, you never let me go.”

Lake gave him a real smile and followed Jack up the stairs. Callum looked down at Isobel, whose worried eyes were on her son.

“He’s safe.”

“I know. He’s safe now.” She turned to him. “But only because of you.”

“Don’t forget the rest of us,” Ryan grumbled.

“All of you,” Isobel said with a hiccup.

“You need help getting up the stairs?” Ryan asked, and the rest of his team stilled.

There was a time when even insinuating that Callum needed help would have gotten a man shot.

“Aye,” Callum said. “Dimitri, take Sophie. Isobel, you follow them up. Ryan has to help me because my leg is stuffed.”

She peeled herself from him reluctantly. Callum understood; he had to force himself to let her go. As he watched her disappear into the stairwell, Ryan came up and swung an arm around his waist.

“Lean on me, boss,” he said.

With a growl, Callum put his arm around Ryan’s shoulder, and they started towards the door.

“Does this new attitude mean I can start making leg jokes?” Ryan said.

“No.”

“Are you sure? It seems to me that your argument for keeping me quiet is moot.” Ryan grinned. “In fact, some might say you don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“When we get out of here, I’m going to shoot you.”

“Well, we’d better hop to it, then.”

“Moron.”

Ryan just laughed.