Here Comes the Rainne Again

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  “Tell me why you’re here,” Megan said again. “Seriously, what difference does it make if we know?”

  “A good operative never reveals his objective.”

  She rolled her eyes. If the power had been on, she would have filled the tub, then plugged in a hairdryer and lobbed it in to keep him company.

  “Who do you work for?” she tried again.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He sounded like a five-year-old.

  “Well, duh, that’s why I’m asking. You didn’t get the brain in your family, did you?”

  “Hey, I’ll have you know I have a college education.”

  She looked at the width of his shoulders. “I bet it was in something really useful. Like football.”

  The annoying man smirked at her. “You might as well surrender. You aren’t going to win.”

  “This isn’t about who wins. People’s lives are at risk here. This isn’t a game.”

  “Life is a game.”

  “Ooookay.” Megan hauled herself off the toilet. “The gag is going back in. I can’t take any more of this. It’s like trying to hold a conversation with Yoda.”

  “Happy to oblige, am I,” he drawled.

  Megan reached for the gag when an explosion went off. The room shook. Another followed. Megan held on to the sink.

  “What the hell?” the captive said. The amused look was gone, and in its place was the intelligence and focus of a trained killer.

  “Someone blew up the snowmobiles,” her mother shouted. “I think Matt is here.”

  “The guys are here?” That was Caroline’s voice. “Are we sure? How do we know for sure?”

  “I can’t see anything else,” Heather Donaldson said. “It’s all smoke and snow out there.”

  “I don’t hear anything either.” That was Kirsty.

  “Caroline, get on the intercom. See what you can find out.” Joe sounded intense.

  A few seconds later, Caroline’s voice rang out. “Alastair, Rainne, are you there?”

  There was silence. She tried again. And again.

  “I hope this doesn’t mean someone got to them,” Jena said softly.

  “Try a house-wide call. See if anyone we know is in the house.” Joe again.

  “Hello, this is Caroline. Are any of our men here?” Caroline sounded desperate.

  They all did. Because they were desperate. A good sense of humour could only take you so far when you were under attack.

  “Hello, if you’re there, answer me.” Caroline again.

  Nothing.

  “I don’t think your guys blew up the machines,” the guy in the bath said.

  “Then who did?” Megan asked him. “Is it your lot? Why would you blow up your own transport?”

  “We wouldn’t.”

  They stared at each other for a beat. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Megan found herself mesmerised by his dark eyes. An unwanted flare of awareness went through her. His pupils dilated, telling her he felt it too.

  “Tell me your name,” Megan asked. “At least give me that.”

  “Dimitri.” He gave up the name without any hesitation.

  “Really? You don’t look like a Dimitri.”

  “Tell that to my Russian parents.”

  “I thought it was a Greek name.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, surprised. Megan just about managed to resist rolling her eyes. Oh yeah, Barbie has a brain. Booya sucker.

  “Greek origin. Russian version,” he told her.

  “Dimitri.” She tried the name for effect. It suited him. “Tell me why you’re here. Tell me something. Anything that will help us.”

  His eyes were hard as flint. “I can tell you one thing,” he said quietly, making her take a step towards him.

  “What?” Her heart raced as her focus became all about him. “What is it?”

  “I can tell you you’ve overlooked something.”

  Her spine went taut. “What?”

  He glanced up, and Megan followed his gaze. Straight up to the wide skylight above the bath. Her heart stopped. Her mouth opened to shout for Joe. The beam of a flashlight scanned over the glass before a hand appeared. It wielded the butt of a gun like a club.

  “Get in the bath,” Dimitri shouted. “It’s going to shatter.”

  Without thinking, Megan threw herself into the bath on top of her captive. Dimitri pulled a bath towel over their heads. Just as they were covered, the glass shattered, raining down on them.

  A heavy thump sounded on the floor beside the bath. The door to the room slammed shut.

  “Down!” Dimitri ordered. He flattened her onto her back in the bath, lying on top of her. Shielding her body with his.

  She heard gunfire from outside the bathroom, but the bullets hit the heavy wooden door. There was the scraping sound of furniture being dragged, and Megan knew the bad guys were blocking the door with the wooden armoire that sat in the corner of the bathroom.

  She was trapped.

  Barricaded inside the room.

  With the bad guys.

  Her mouth went dry. Her hands curled into the jacket of the man on top of her before she could question her actions. Fool. He was the enemy. His lips brushed against her ear.

  “Trust me,” he whispered. “Do as I do.”

  Before she could make sense of his words, the towel was whipped from their heads. She looked up, past Dimitri, into the cold grey eyes of a man wearing a white ski mask.

  Arms tightened around her as Dimitri sat up in the bath, taking her with him. It took her a second to realise that Dimitri was no longer tied up. He’d broken out of his bonds. How long ago, she didn’t know, but it was before the guys came through the skylight. He’d been toying with her. Pretending to play captive.

  “Meet Claire,” Dimitri said. His voice was different. Hard. It also held a heavy Russian accent. “Claire, this is Reynard. He’s come all this way to meet you, so be nice.”

  What the hell? Megan struggled against Dimitri’s hold. He knew damn well she wasn’t Claire. The man in front of her leaned forward and brushed the hair from her cheek.

  “Pleased to meet you, Claire.” He had eyes that were flat like a shark’s. They made her shudder. “Our employer would very much like the pleasure of your company.”

  “I’m not...” Dimitri’s hand slapped over her mouth and stayed there.

  “What took you so long?” Dimitri said. “I’ve been trying to keep the target distracted until you showed up.”

  “Yeah.” The other guy’s accent was harder to place. European, but where? “I can see you suffered. I’m impressed you infiltrated the group. How did you manage to separate her from the others?”

  “Charm.” Dimitri stood and yanked her up with him, still covering her mouth. “And skill. We need to get out of here. Lake Benson and his men are on the way.”

  Megan struggled in Dimitri’s arms, vaguely aware that being the captive was nowhere near as much fun as being the captor.

  “We’ve got what we came for.” Reynard motioned to Megan. “You’ve been a lot of trouble, Claire. This is the first time you’ve been away from your husband in weeks. I had intended for this job to be more subtle, but instead we were forced to start World War Three to get to you.”

  The pressure over her mouth increased. Dimitri really didn’t want her to tell his colleagues that she wasn’t her sister. What the hell did that mean? Why did he want her to pretend? Who was after Claire? Who were these men? She was starting to hyperventilate when a rope ladder fell through the hole where the skylight used to be.

  “I’ll go up first. You follow with her,” the masked man said.

  Without another word, the man started to climb up the ladder into the black night.

  “Don’t tell them you’re not Claire,” Dimitri whispered in her ear. “Reynard will put a bullet in your brain and then hunt her down. There’s more at stake here than your life.” He stepped out of the bath, lifting her with him. “Your sister is pregnant. She was going to announc
e it after the wedding.”

  Megan jolted in his arms. He was lying. Claire couldn’t be pregnant. She would have told her. Claire told her everything. She hesitated. Well, she used to tell her everything, until she’d married Grunt. Now things were a little different.

  “Surveillance,” Dimitri whispered. “She found out this morning. Trust me. These guys would love to take a pregnant woman. It would add to the fun. We can’t let that happen.”

  “We?” Megan said against the palm covering her mouth.

  “Play along. Do it for your sister. We’ll figure the rest out later. I’ll come up with a plan.”

  “Get a move on,” the guy above them shouted down.

  “Trust me,” Dimitri whispered before shoving her towards the ladder. “Climb, Claire,” he said loud enough for his colleagues to hear.

  It was decision time. Did she pretend to be Claire, or call his bluff? She felt the warm length of Dimitri against her back as he herded her towards the ladder. She looked up at the faceless man above her, his handgun pointed at her head. Dimitri had said he’d shoot her if she wasn’t Claire. She wasn’t sure she could trust Dimitri. She wasn’t even sure who he was, or whose side he was on.

  But some things she did know for certain. She didn’t want them hunting down her sister. And she definitely didn’t want to die. That left only one choice.

  She reached up, gripped the ladder and started to climb.

  23

  * Lake *

  Lake screeched to a halt at the castle gate as the night exploded. The men watched the balls of orange turn to smoke that faded into the blackness of the night.

  “Was that the castle?” Josh sounded frantic. “It couldn’t be the castle. Right?”

  “Two small vehicles,” Callum said. “Exploding one after the other.”

  Lake nodded. He’d heard the same thing. “Get a move on,” he ordered everyone.

  The men shook themselves into action and ran towards the flames in the distance. The glow from the burning vehicles clearly lit the exterior of the castle. Progress through the snow was slow, even at a run. Each step felt like a mile.

  Gunshots sounded through the night, dulled by the thick stone making up the castle. Someone was in there. Where were the women? What were Joe and Ryan doing?

  If he was too late. If Kirsty was hurt. Nothing would stop the havoc he would wreak.

  “They’re okay,” Flynn said through the comm units. Whether he was talking to himself or to everyone, Lake wasn’t sure. “They’ve got to be okay. They’re resourceful.”

  No one answered. Instead they picked up their pace, desperate to get to the castle.

  Smashing glass. More gunfire. Shouting. Screaming.

  Lake’s fear compressed down inside of him, refining into pure fury.

  “Split,” he ordered, and they broke off into the three groups they’d previously arranged.

  Callum and Matt headed to the back of the castle. Josh, Mitch, Harry and Flynn fell back and spread out, eager to pick up any strays Grunt and Lake left in their wake. Lake could have told them they’d be disappointed. No one was getting past him. With one sharp hand signal, Lake motioned for Grunt to move right, while he moved left.

  Lake felt his breathing slow, his heart rate lower, his focus distil. There was nothing in his mind but the mission. Only eliminating the threat and securing Kirsty mattered.

  Men ran out of the castle, straight to the burning snowmobiles. There were shouts. Cursing, followed by orders to find and eliminate the people who’d blown up their transport. Lake almost smiled. Instead, he crept towards the men, keeping to the shadows.

  “I count five,” Lake whispered into his mic.

  A short, sharp shot to his right. The unmistakable guttural grunt of a man going down.

  “One less now,” Grunt said, his voice crystal clear through the headset Lake wore.

  The men in front of him sprang into action. Guns were raised. They ran for cover. Some of them headed back into the castle. He saw the windows of the grand room blow as the men shot blindly into the night.

  “Three more back here,” Callum said. “Make that four.”

  Lake crept up behind one of the guys. He wrapped his arm around his neck. A minute later he was unconscious in the snow. Lake disarmed him, then secured his arms and legs with cable ties.

  “Two less,” he stated calmly into his mic.

  Each of the snowmobiles could have held at least two people, maybe three, and Claire had told them there were already three in the castle. That made at least nine, including the captive Megan had secured.

  More shots and several grunts. “Three and four,” Grunt said without a trace of emotion.

  “Try not to shoot the assholes,” Matt said.

  “I didn’t shoot,” Grunt said. “And I didn’t break any necks. These two are secured.”

  “Show-off,” Matt said tersely. “More coming round the side of the house.”

  “Do we move the unconscious guys, or leave their asses in the snow?” Harry said.

  “Leave them. They aren’t going anywhere,” Matt said. “We’ll deal with them later. Make sure they’re secured.”

  “What if they freeze to death?” Harry said.

  “Anybody care, speak now,” Matt said over the headsets.

  There was silence.

  Lake made it to the front door. It was ajar. He pushed it open with the barrel of his gun and listened. Nothing. Not so much as a creak coming from the ground floor. But noise reverberated through the building. It came from the tower bedroom.

  Lake kept his back to the wall as he headed up the stairs, gun pointed in front of him.

  “Need backup,” Callum said in Lake’s ear.

  Lake changed direction and headed for the back of the house. Quickly, but silently, he made his way along the hallway to the kitchen. There was the sound of smashing glass. Gunfire. Screaming. Lake raced towards it all. He ran through the kitchen, grateful he was familiar with the layout of the house. As he came to the broken back door, he spotted Callum and Matt. They were hunkered behind the small wall surrounding the patio, pinned down by two guys in white snowsuits, armed with semi-automatic rifles.

  Grunt appeared at Lake’s side. They didn’t speak to each other. With one hand motion, Lake communicated where he wanted Grunt to go and the man was off, moving silently into the shadows.

  Lake stepped out into the back patio and took aim at one of the guys who had Callum pinned. Then he felt a thud on his upper arm, making him jerk backwards. He’d been hit. He spun in place and spotted three more assailants rounding the corner of the building. Lake crouched behind the only cover available, a metal patio chair, and fired. The men dodged, hiding beyond the corner of the building.

  “Five down,” Grunt muttered as he came up behind Lake. They crouched, back to back.

  “Stop them!” A high-pitched scream came from above them.

  Lake fired off three shots at the corner of the building, pushing the remaining assailants back. When they ducked out of sight, he looked up. The women were hanging out of the windows.

  “They’ve got Megan,” Jena yelled, her arm outstretched, pointing.

  Lake’s head snapped in the direction she pointed. Two men, dragging a woman between them. Shots rang out, making Lake and Grunt flatten to the icy ground.

  “Stop shooting at my castle,” Caroline shouted. “You. You in the white. Put that gun down at once.”

  Lake had no idea who she was shouting at. All of the men wore white. There was another gunshot and the sound of shattering glass.

  “Not the conservatory!” Caroline wailed. “We just had that installed.”

  Then something heavy flew through the air and landed on the head of the guy who’d shot the conservatory. He crumpled under it.

  “Good shot, baby,” Josh shouted. “Wait. Is that Josh Mark Two? Couldn’t you have thrown the lingerie drawers?”

  “Six. Flattened by a life-sized Josh doll,” Grunt said.

  “St
atus?” Lake barked into his mic.

  “Two with Megan,” Matt said, his voice vibrating with fury at the thought of his sister being taken. “Two pinned to the back patio.”

  “Everyone else secured,” Mitch said.

  “And tasered,” Harry added. “Just in case.”

  “You just like using the taser,” Flynn said.

  “I’m getting one when this is over,” Harry agreed.

  Matt had taken advantage of the commotion to sneak up on the gunman who’d pinned Callum down. “Seven. Secured and disarmed,” he said.

  The last remaining attacker fired rapidly at Matt as he ran for cover in the spot where his cousins were crouching.

  “Matt!” Jena screamed. “Don’t get shot, baby.”

  “Don’t worry,” Matt’s mother shouted. “We’ve got this under control.”

  And then all hell broke loose—and it took the form of whizzing rockets, blasts of light and bursts of sparkles.

  “Crap,” Josh said. “They found the firework stash.”

  Lake watched in amazement as the back garden exploded around them. “Take cover,” he snapped. “They have no control over these things.”

  He ducked back into the kitchen just as a massive rocket took out a planter. The explosions and blinding bursts of light carried on for a couple of minutes as fireworks flew randomly across the yard instead of into the air. When the noise died down, the air was filled with smoke and the snow had black burn tracks through it.

  “Eight,” Grunt said. “Taken out by a flying Roman candle.”