* * *
Cilla gave a short scream and whipped around to the window at the sound and flash of gunfire. She ran towards the door, then froze. Her conscience seemed to be swatting at her like a hummingbird's wings.
"Sod it!" She stalked back to Flynn, still asleep and scooped him in her arms. She shushed him when he protested, and he immediately made himself comfortable against her shoulder. Good thing Flynn wasn’t too heavy. She turned the knob and peeked through the gap. The hallway was empty. Quickly, she opened the door wider before closing it behind them. She heard Holbrook's voice furiously giving orders. Not wanting to bump into him, she veered to the right instead of taking the stairs to her left. She knew that big houses had other stairwells that were used by servants. Holbrook's house was no different. Cilla moved quickly along the corridor, her head swinging from side to side, looking for a concealed panel until she neared the end where a huge glass window overlooked the gardens and swimming pool. At one time, she had explored the house while Holbrook was in his study screaming at someone. Not wanting to hear what he was saying, she stayed out of the house, wandering over to the bath house by the pool. It would be their temporary haven until she could get Flynn and herself out.
There.
The concealed door was cut into the wall, but there was no handle. Worry and panic crawled up her legs as she pushed against the panel until she heard a clip. Awash with relief, she slipped through and took the narrow stairs leading to the ground floor. Lights automatically glowed as she made her way. Another door greeted her. She opened it and peered through. The kitchen was lit up but empty, a used glass the only object marring the spotless marble counter. The door to the grounds was still open. Leaving the narrow confines of the concealed stairwell, she dashed through it. Heart in her throat, her stomach clenching, she kept her head down, covering Flynn inside her black coat, looking like a moving shadow amidst the gunfight that was concentrated in the front of the house, before disappearing into the dark. She kept going, her eyes on the ground to make sure she didn't trip with her precious cargo, and she wasn't thinking of the rucksack on her back. Her teeth clamped down on her mouth to stop herself from screaming as voices of men firing at their unknown assailants seemed to surround her. She stopped by a tree, its thick trunk shielding them both, and looked back. The fighting had now moved to the house. Men were starting to run towards the poolside. With a spurt of energy she didn't know she possessed, Cilla ran straight for the glass doors just as she heard the unmistakable sound of helicopter blades rotating.
* * *
Oliver had a bulletproof vest and gun by the time Luke pulled up by the mansion's gate. There were black SUVs blocking the entrance and sounds of gunfire and shouts filled the air. Overhead, he saw a helicopter hovering atop the mansion. Oliver strode to them, a gun in his hand.
"All of you stay here!" he ordered as Luke, Gracie, and Felicity got out of the car, his eyes flashing in annoyance and anger. "You should have all stayed at the house."
"You think?" Luke's tone dripped with sarcasm.
"Flynn," Gracie cried.
"Gracie, do you hear that?" Oliver snapped. "That's gunfire. I promise I will find him, but I can't do that if all of you are caught in the crossfire."
His ear piece crackled. "Status." His mouth thinned. "Flynn isn't in the master bedroom. They have Holbrook, but Flynn isn't with him."
"No!" Gracie wailed, shielding herself in Luke's arms, her body wracking in sobs. Felicity stood to one side, her arms across her waist, her face pained.
Luke's face was a mask of anger. "Bloody hell." His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took it out. "It's a text from Cilla."
They all crowded to see what she had to say.
We couldn't stay or Flynn could have been hurt. He's in the bath house by the poolside. I left something with him. I'm sorry for all the things I've done.
"Stay here," Oliver commanded. "I mean it or I'll have all of you arrested." He didn't wait for their reply before sprinting into the grounds.
Staying close to the wall, he took cover in the trees that dotted the property, his attention on the unlit bath house opposite the pool. One of Holbrook's men ran towards the bath house, chased by a member of his team. The man pivoted to shoot, but Oliver pinned him in the thigh first with a spit from his weapon. The man fell with a scream.
"Thank ye, Major." A man dressed in black from head to foot spoke across the pool.
Oliver nodded. "Have that man seen to. Make sure that Holbrook is secured."
He entered the dark bath house, accustoming his eyes to the gloom. Flynn lay on the day bed, resting on his side. Rushing to the sleeping form, Oliver felt for a pulse and gave out a huge sigh. Securing his weapon, he scooped the boy in his arms. As he made sure the coast was clear, he heard a shuffling sound behind him. He paused and looked sideways before he left the bath house.
Oliver hoped the person left inside made the most of the leeway to freedom he had just given her.
* * *
Cilla froze when the jacket she wore made a swooshing sound, hoping that the constant whir of the helicopter drowned her need to get more comfortable in the cramp of her hiding place. It didn't appear that the man who took Flynn heard her. Still, she didn't dare move even after they left the bath house. But her hiding was hopeless, wasn't it? With the black suited men swarming the place, they'd soon find her and when they did...dammit! She only wanted out! She didn't want to go to prison as an accessory to an abduction. She cursed herself for giving away the flash drive, her greatest bargaining chip, by leaving it with Flynn. She didn't know what was inside but considering that it was hidden in the safe with the stack of money, it must be something important. But if she took it with her, then Holbrook could easily go free. Luke wouldn't have any evidence of what his father was doing even if there was already strong evidence to slap him with a case of kidnapping. No, she had to set things straight. It was her way of making her apology concrete. Real. Honest. Cilla's head jerked at the sound of the bath house's door swinging open.
"No one's there, Private. I have the boy. Round up the others and seal the area. Let forensics do their job."
"Yes, sir."
The door closed with a resounding click.
Tears came unbidden and fell from Cilla's eyes. When was the last time she cried? She had no idea. She had trembled in the wake of the danger the man's voice carried. A person not to be trifled with. Harsh. Resolute. Unyielding.
It was the most beautiful voice of freedom she had ever heard.
Outside, no one bothered entering the bath house on the Major's orders. No one heard the sobs of relief. As forensics entered the mansion and the rest of the Major's team pulled away from the scene, a lone shadow made its way out of the bath house, hugging the property line and avoiding the streams of light, before slipping out of the gate and into the night.
Chapter Thirty
Oliver switched off the bike before kicking the stand in front of his apartment building. The soft lights from the lobby threw off the only source of illumination outside. Behind him, Felicity dismounted, slipping the helmet off her head and giving it to him. Oliver balled his hands in an attempt to stop the strong urge to touch her. He watched her mouth purse when she blew out a breath. He had the sudden urge to flush her against his body and make love to her mouth.
"Thank you." Felicity's smile was brief. She hugged herself against the cold. "For taking me to my brother and for saving Flynn." She fished her car keys from her pocket. She bent her head, her hair falling in a curtain to hide her face. She turned to go.
Without meaning to, Oliver's hand shot out to grab her arm. "Are you okay?"
She shot him a glance before she looked away. "I will be. It isn't every day you realize that your father's a criminal." She exhaled. "The good thing that’s come out of all this is that I finally got to talk to Luke, and that I know he's happy. Gracie is good for him."
"What will you do now?" He let go of her arm, missing the warmth that emanated
through her clothes.
She shrugged. "Talk to my mother and sisters when they return from their holiday. I don't think they will like what they hear." She paused and raised her troubled eyes to his. Oliver's gut tensed at the vulnerability he saw in her clear blue eyes. "What's going to happen to my dad?"
It was Oliver's turn to look away. If he could spare her the ignominy of what her father had done, he would. "I'm not going to mince words, Felicity. The flash drive that Cilla left in Flynn's pocket? As soon as I got it, we checked its contents. It is more than enough to send him to prison for a very long time. And that's just for the drug charges."
Felicity blinked several times before sucking in her breath. "For all the bad things he has done I saw good in him. I don't know if he’s changed since. I guess only time will tell." She straightened as though remembering where she was. "I'll see you around." Her car beeped, and she climbed in. Soon she was backing out of the parking lot and on to the road, mingling with the rest of the late night traffic.
This time Oliver didn't stop her. Not only because he didn't know what to say to ease the sadness he could sense from the way she held herself aloof. It was also because if he gave her comfort by embracing her and kissing her lips, he wouldn't have the strength to let her go.
And in his line of business, it could get them both killed.
* * *
After the paramedics checked Flynn saying that he wasn't the worse for wear, Luke and Gracie took him home. Felicity stayed behind telling them that she'd go with Oliver since she had parked her car by Luke's apartment building. As soon as they arrived in Gracie's house, Theresa and Noreen were out of the abode, running to the passenger door to help Gracie out. Theresa continued to sob and thanked the Almighty at the same time while Noreen placed her arm around Gracie. Luke wasn't so sure, whether he should stay or go to his apartment until the storm passed. He faced the door of his Maserati, his forearms on the door frame. He felt cold not because of the weather that had dropped several degrees around him, but because despite the fact that Gracie clung to him during the height of waiting for Flynn, she had in fact moved away. She had become distant even when her eyes showed her gratitude for him being there. She had held on to Flynn so hard that the child had protested in her arms while he slept. He knew that Gracie's remoteness was temporary, but he couldn't help feel that he had brought this on all of them. And like before, whenever he couldn't face the bleakness of his life, he found comfort in work. Taking his phone out for the nth time, he called Terrence and Barry simultaneously, telling them to come to the office for an emergency meeting.
"What happened?" Terrence asked.
"Cilla happened."
"Shit!"
"But she's gone."
"What? Luke, what did you do, mate?" Terrence half joked.
"It was bigger than I thought," Luke replied. "Barry, you there?"
"I'm here, and I'll bring my brain tomorrow," his lawyer quipped.
"Thanks, mate." Luke valued the way Barry could second guess him.
"I'll see you both at ten. If you need me I'll be at the loft." Luke ended the call, not waiting for Terrence to ask him questions he himself had no answer for. He opened the car door to climb in.
"Luke...come inside," Theresa called, wrapping her cardigan around her body. "The cold's coming in. You'll catch your death."
He tensed. "I think I better stay in the loft."
"What on Earth for?" Theresa went to him, her face concerned. "Gracie needs you and Flynn will too when he wakes up."
Luke closed his eyes, pain ripping his insides. "I brought this on them, Theresa." He looked at her. "On you."
"Oh hush, child! You didn't bring anything on us." She reached up to cup his face in her veined hands. "Come on, drink with me. I'm not taking no for an answer." Patting his face firmly, Theresa left Luke to follow her inside the house.
Luke walked towards the house with heavy steps. Gracie had redeemed him by giving him a family he had come to love. Redeemed him by making him realize that there was someone who returned his love, not because of his wealth, but because she loved him for who he was. He didn't delude himself to think that he was perfect, yet he would be the happiest man if she became his. Gracie Sinclair had saved him, and he planned to show her how much he truly loved her if she would allow it. Whatever happened tonight, if Gracie rejected him, he would leave to allow her time. Then he would come back and bombard her with so much love until he had nothing left to give. His mouth lifted to a bitter smile. He'd probably end up raising the white flag even before the battle to be a part of her life began.
Theresa was in the kitchen, waiting for him.
"Tea?"
Luke smiled ruefully. "I need something stronger, I'm afraid."
"Will scotch do?"
Luke raised his eyebrow.
"Oh, there's always a bottle of scotch here for toddies. I don't mind a tipple occasionally."
Luke gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks."
Theresa took the Laphroaig single malt from out of the cupboard and handed Luke a glass.
"This is pretty strong," Luke commented, whistling inwardly as the scotch blazed a trail down his throat. His eyes watered.
Theresa shrugged. She nodded to his knuckles. “Your hand is going to be sore tomorrow.”
Luke surveyed his red knuckles. “It was worth it.”
Theresa shook her head with a snort before taking a sip from her glass.
"How's Gracie?"
She pursed her lips to inhale. "What do you think?"
Luke placed his elbows on the table and set the glass down before ploughing his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, his head between his hands.
"I don't want to lose Gracie, Theresa," he said quietly. "I love her so damn much. After what Cilla did, I'm afraid I may just have done so."
"Tell me exactly what happened."
Luke told Theresa how he met Gracie and the times that Cilla insisted on seeing him until the fair in Cheshire when he had no choice but to get a court injunction. Then as though a dam burst, he told her everything. About his life, how he found out his father had been a married man when he got his mother pregnant, how he built his company, how he wanted to prove that he was a better man. He told her about the time he thought he'd finally be accepted. He talked to her about his relationships and how he treated women until Gracie came into his life.
"Then I find out that Cilla and my father had been working together all along. That my father is into drugs and money laundering." Luke leaned back. "I will never forgive my father for using Flynn to get to me. I can't forgive myself for putting all of you at risk."
"Why did your father have to use underhanded means to get to you when he could just call?"
"I refused to take his calls," Luke replied. "Good thing too because after the raid I found out that Holbrook wanted to launder money through my company. Drug money. That would have dragged Bryce Engineering through the mud. It wouldn't matter if I was innocent. The scandal would be enough to put me out of business."
"And Felicity?" Theresa took a sip from her scotch. "Where does your sister fit in?"
"Felicity is the youngest of the girls in Holbrook's family." His mouth curved in an unconscious smile. "She was the only one who reached out to me. We were supposed to meet up, but her mother sent Felicity on some imaginary errand and met me instead. It wasn't the kind of meeting I wanted, and I've blamed Felicity ever since. Gracie and I met her once before Christmas, and I just couldn't stomach seeing her because of what happened."
"And now?" Theresa inclined her head to one side.
"She was willing to face Holbrook for me." He leaned forward, his arms on the table. "She was the one who told me that Holbrook had Flynn." He snorted. "I didn't realize pests could be good. I agreed to see her again."
Silence reigned between them.
"An angel is passing by," Theresa commented.
"Excuse me?"
"When there is silence in the ro
om and when no one has anything to say at the same time, that means there’s an angel passing through."
"Oh, there is an angel." Luke directed his gaze at the stairs. "She's upstairs in the bedroom and I don't know how to approach her."
"Mothers will always think their children to be angels." Theresa smiled. "You, however, gave her back her wings."
"What happened to her, Theresa? I don't ask her too much about it. I trust her to tell me when the time is right."
Theresa sighed. "I'm not so sure about that. It's a very painful part of her life that I believe she'd rather not visit."
"Tell me."
Theresa told Luke the way Jonathan had treated Gracie, how he had said that he loved her only to verbally abuse her after the second year of their marriage.
"That bastard made my Gracie into a shell of herself," Theresa said flatly. "I wanted Gracie to leave him, but he threatened Gracie that she would never see Flynn again if she did." Her face slashed with pain. "I can still remember that night. Gracie was incoherent with fear, begging me not to confront him or he and Flynn would be gone. Every day I saw my daughter lose a part of herself. When he died, may the Lord forgive me, I was so relieved. Gracie wouldn't have to fight for custody of Flynn, but something else happened. During the funeral, a woman with three children also attended. It turned out that Jonathan had another wife in a different city. That was why he was always away."
"Bloody hell," Luke breathed as he leaned back. "Bastard."
Theresa's lips thinned even as she was lost in thought. "That he was." She took a sip from her scotch.
The silence in the kitchen lengthened as the night wore on. Each one lost in their own musings. No words were needed when all they both wanted to do was to comfort the one person hurting the most. Then Theresa looked at him.
"You know, Luke, you don't give my Gracie enough credit."
Luke's frown creased, but he kept silent.
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