Dimitri made hand signals indicating they should spread out. They automatically split up into two pairs. Joe with Grunt. Lake with Dimitri. They kept to the shadows, scanning constantly. Nothing.
Dimitri tapped Lake’s shoulder and pointed to the corner of the terrace where he knew a guard was usually posted. Lake nodded and they moved together, covering each other as they did so. Lake saw it first. He held up a fist to stop Dimitri, then signalled for him to cover him. Dimitri tapped his shoulder to acknowledge his order. A minute later Lake broke radio silence.
“One down. Throat slit.”
Everything within Dimitri shut down. It was a trained reaction.
“Two down.” Grunt said. “Throat slit.”
A litany of curses erupted in Dimitri’s head. He tapped Lake’s shoulder and pointed to the doors, knowing that Joe and Grunt would be doing the same thing. They found blood on the carpet in the sitting room. Bullet holes in the wall. Another guard fallen behind the French sofas. Dimitri’s heart began to race. On the surface he was contained, efficient and silent, inside there was terror.
They moved quickly through the rooms, checking each in turn. Keeping their guns, and their guards, up ready for attack. None came. Instead they found an ever-increasing body count.
In the upstairs bedroom—the master bedroom—they found Henri Boudin.
There were at least three bullet holes in his body. His grey Savile Row suit was drenched in blood. It pooled out onto the Persian rug, staining its beauty the same way Henri had stained everything in his life. Dimitri looked into the face of the man who’d imprisoned his sister and felt only violent, cold hatred.
“Over here.” It was Lake. There was no longer any need to keep radio silence, or any other kind of silence. Everyone on the estate was dead and there was no sign of Katrina.
Dimitri strode to the walk in closet, where Lake was standing in the doorway. His usually stoic face was grim. He stepped back to let Dimitri pass. A cold dread washed over Dimitri’s skin as he caught the hard fury in Lake’s eyes. At the back of the closet was another door. One that blended a little too well with the décor. At first glance you wouldn’t have seen it amongst the clothes.
“What we got?” Joe said as he came up behind them.
Lake just gave him a look.
“Hell.” Joe looked at Grunt.
They stopped at the entrance to the closet. Waiting for Dimitri. The message was clear: they had his back, but this was for him to do alone.
With muscles so taut they felt like they would snap, Dimitri pushed open the door to the concealed room behind it.
It was empty.
Relief that he hadn’t found the body of his sister almost took him to his knees.
He looked back at Lake, saw the grim line of his mouth and turned back to study the room. A single mattress on the floor, bare except for one blanket. A toilet in the corner of the room. A tiny sink with a bar of soap, toothpaste and brush. There were no windows. No decoration. Nothing. Bare wooden floorboards under foot, marred by the marks made from the chains. Chains that were attached to the wall near the bed and ended in ankle cuffs that lay open on the floor. There were no clothes in the room.
Shaking, Dimitri stepped deeper inside the room. It was barely bigger than the closet behind him. He knew, just from looking, that the chains would stretch as far as the toilet, but not as far as the door. Henri could have left the door unlocked and his captive still would never have gotten free.
He’d seen enough. He turned to leave and his knees gave way. He hit the floor with a loud thump. The wall, where the door sat, had been papered with Polaroid photos. Thousands of Polaroid photos.
All of Katrina.
“Get him out of there,” Lake ordered.
Joe was already in the room when the order came. He glanced at the wall. Saw the horror and cursed. “Let’s go. You don’t need to see that.” A hand clasped Dimitri’s shoulder.
Rage surged and Dimitri roared, throwing off Joe’s hand. He clawed at the photos, ripping them off the wall, tearing them to nothing, letting them fall until the floor was littered with them. It was what he imagined his sister would have done if she’d been able to reach them. If she hadn’t been chained in place to stare at them, to be reminded every minute of every day of why she was there and what her captor could do to her. With his bare hands, he destroyed the evidence of her torture at the hands of Henri Boudin. The same way he wanted to rip apart the man who’d done this to her.
Lake and Joe stood sentry while he worked out his rage. They didn’t try to stop him. They didn’t comment. When every image was gone, he stood gasping at the horror around his feet. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He wanted to rip the place apart until he bled. Until everyone bled. All of them.
“I want this gone.” He didn’t give Lake a choice. “I want it all gone. I want to raze this place to the ground. Nothing left. Nothing.”
There was agreement in Lake’s icy eyes.
“We need to find out where she’s gone first.” Joe ran a hand over his face. “Someone took her.”
He was too late. Again. He saw red. Literally. Everything else was obliterated.
“Got security footage,” Grunt called from the bedroom.
Joe and Lake waited for Dimitri to walk out first before they followed him. Grunt was leaning over the desk that sat in front of one of the huge windows overlooking the ocean.
“He had the security feeds come through here.” Grunt pointed to the desktop computer. “That’s from two hours ago.” Grunt stepped back so they could see the screen.
As soon as the image registered, Dimitri snapped. One second he was looking at Durand’s smug smile as he dragged Katrina from the building, the next he was throwing the machine through the window and out onto the grass beyond.
“Get the security footage and any other records you can find,” Lake told Grunt.
Without a word Grunt jogged off in search of the security room.
“See what you can do about bringing the house down,” Lake said to Joe.
Dimitri stood, hands on hips, staring at the man who lay dead on the carpet. Wishing he was still alive so he could make the bastard suffer.
“I don’t know about bringing the house down,” Joe said. “I’ll see what’s in their arsenal, but we can definitely wipe that room.” He pointed to the closet. “I’ll let you know.” And then he was gone.
Dimitri couldn’t take his eyes off Henri Boudin. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It took effort to drag his gaze up to Lake’s.
“She’s still alive,” Lake said.
Dimitri couldn’t think. Couldn’t talk. All he could see were the images in Katrina’s prison cell. All he could hear were her screams. Had she begged for her brother to rescue her? Had she wept when he didn’t come? He’d taken too long. He was too late.
“She’s still alive.” Lake squeezed his shoulder.
“She won’t be the same.” The words were wrenched from him. They left a gaping wound inside his heart. One he knew would never heal.
“No. We’ll help her. We’ll make her stronger.” His voice was a deadly growl. “She’s still alive. This isn’t over.”
No. Dimitri looked back at Henri Boudin. This wasn’t over. He turned his back on the bastard. Lake slapped him on the shoulder and without another word they went in search of clues as to where Durand had taken his sister. Because this wasn’t over. Not until Durand had breathed his last.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The men were on their way back from Morocco and the team were back to square one. It wasn’t a good place to be.
Megan left her sombre friends and retreated to the room she shared with Dimitri. As she lay on their bed, watching shadows play on the ceiling, her mind was on the man who’d wormed his way into her heart. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would deal with this latest setback. It was beyond cruel to get so close to rescuing his sister just to have her snatched away at the last minute. She wished she was w
ith him, even though she knew there was nothing she could do to help. At some point, when she hadn’t been looking, Dimitri had made a home for himself deep inside her heart. It beat for him now. The arrogant, annoying, sexy, caring man was hers. And she wished she was with him.
“You still up?” Callum called as he knocked at her door.
“Yeah.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed to sit facing the window as Callum came into the room. His footsteps were silent on the plush carpet.
Still dressed in the white cashmere sweater and jeans Rachel had provided for her, Megan was ready to hear what Callum had to say. He sat beside her on the edge of the bed, keeping a respectable distance between them, skin illuminated by the dim glow coming from golden street lights. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked at her.
“What happened?” It was a struggle to get the words out through her rapidly closing throat. “Dimitri?”
“No.” He ran a hand through his military short hair. “Sorry, no, he’s fine. On his way back. They’re due in London about six thirty. This is something else.”
“Is it about Julia?” The woman was inconsolable. Blaming herself for Durand’s actions, knowing he had seen the files on Katrina when he’d broken into her office.
“No. It wasn’t her fault. Nobody could predict this.”
“It’s because of me, isn’t it? That’s why he took her.”
To his credit, Callum didn’t lie and tell her she was wrong. They all knew there was only one reason Durand would go after what the team wanted—to get to Megan.
“There’s been another text.” Callum faced her, solemn, worried.
“What did it say?” Her voice was steady. That was good.
“He wants to trade.”
Of course. “Me for Katrina.” Megan felt a strange calm come over her. It made perfect sense. The only possible outcome from Durand’s actions.
“Aye.”
“I’ll do it.” There was no hesitation. No second thoughts. She would do this and more for the man she loved. And she did love him. It was a calm knowing. Dimitri was in her heart and she would sacrifice the rest of herself for him. Just as she knew he would for her.
“You sure?” There was no judgement in the question.
“Yes.”
Dimitri’s sister had been through hell, she had to come home. And Megan knew this was her fault. All of it. There was no getting around it. If she hadn’t shot Durand in Scotland, he wouldn’t be obsessed with getting to her. He wouldn’t have taken Katrina and Dimitri would have rescued his sister in Rabat.
“Durand wants to trade at six.” Callum’s voice was soft, but even.
Megan picked up on the significance of the time instantly. “Half an hour before the rest of the guys get back.”
“Aye.” His gentle Scottish accent was soothing to her.
“What do you need me to do?” Her stomach spasmed. She placed a hand flat on it and hoped Callum didn’t notice.
“I need you to do what you’re told.”
She nodded once. It was a promise. “Point me at them, boss.” Then a stab of loss as she remembered he was no longer her boss. “I mean…”
His hand covered hers. “You got it right the first time. When this is over, you’re going to be Benson Security’s first official trainee. Think you can hack it?”
Her answer was a weak smile.
“Okay.” Callum stood. “Let’s get to work.”
Dimitri watched Lake’s unreadable face as he spoke with Callum. The roar of the plane’s engines drowned out what Lake was saying, making Dimitri’s imagination run riot. The only clue he had that things were bad was the way Lake’s knuckles whitened as he clutched the arm of his chair.
He glanced across the aisle to where Grunt and Joe were seated. They faced each other, each man looking equally out of place in the plush cream interior. A small table between them held forgotten bottles of water. Their eyes were also on Lake’s face. Dimitri focused on breathing evenly while he waited for Lake to finish.
Lake didn’t make them wait to find out what he’d been told. “Durand contacted Megan. He wants to exchange her for Katrina at six this morning.”
Dimitri’s hearing was momentarily blocked out by a ferocious rushing sound, followed closely by the rapid thud of his heart.
“No.” The word shot from his mouth. “No.”
Grim faces stared at him, each one as angry and frustrated as he was.
“No.” He didn’t realise until that moment that he wasn’t vetoing the exchange, he was saying no to the horror of it. No, he couldn’t exchange one woman he loved for another. No. This wasn’t a choice. It wasn’t. He loved them both. He loved his sister. He loved Megan. His vision blurred. He loved Megan. He tested the words with his tongue and knew them to be true. He loved the crazy, fearless woman. Damn it to hell. No. No exchange. No choosing. Just no.
“Other options?” His voice was dark and rusty.
“The meet’s in forty minutes,” Lake said. “We’re an hour and ten minutes from London. There are no other options.”
“No!” He surged to his feet, followed quickly by Joe. His hand clamped on Dimitri’s shoulder.
“Callum and Ryan are there.” It was unsaid that both men would stand in front of a bullet to save the women.
Dimitri put his hands on his hips and stared at the roof of the cabin. White plastic, it was all that was between him and death. White plastic. What was between Megan and death? Katrina and death? He wanted to punch a hole through the white plastic. A hole to symbolise his endless frustrated need to protect them. A hole where his heart would be if they didn’t make it. If Megan didn’t make it.
“You okay?” Joe squeezed his shoulder.
Dimitri nodded. He wasn’t okay, but he was contained. For now. Joe relaxed slightly, but he didn’t sit until Dimitri took his seat again.
“What’s the plan?” Dimitri asked Lake.
“We can’t call in the cops.” The way Lake said it revealed he was expecting an argument.
He didn’t get one. Dimitri nodded, once. He knew how Durand worked. Any hint of a police presence and he’d put a bullet in Katrina’s brain. Then he’d dedicate himself to finding another way to get his hands on Megan.
Lake opened a bottle of water and handed it to Dimitri. He took it and gulped the ice cold liquid down fast. It helped. A small thing to focus on while he fought to think clearly.
“What did Durand specify?”
“He told Megan to wait outside Norwood Junction train station. She’s to be there in half an hour. Once there she’ll be told where the final meeting place will be.”
“This guy has watched way too many spy movies,” Joe said.
Grunt grunted in agreement.
“Smart though,” Lake said. “It means Callum can’t scope out the location ahead of him.”
“Will they make it to the location on time?” Dimitri hated that he even asked that question. The thought of this happening in any way, shape or form repulsed him on a cellular level.
“Yeah, they’ll make it. Ryan knows London as well as I do, he’ll get them there.”
Joe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s early. The roads won’t be clogged with rush hour traffic yet. It also means Durand will have a quick getaway.”
Dimitri clenched his fists, fighting back the urge to lash out. “What’s the earliest we can get to Norwood Junction?”
Lake stared at him. “From London City airport it’s a forty minute drive. We arrive just after six, earlier if we’re lucky.”
Forty minutes was too long. Durand would be long gone by the time they got there, Megan along with him.
Lake tapped his phone’s screen. “There’s an airport that’s closer. Biggin Hill. It’s south of the Norwood meeting point. It would cut twenty minutes off our arrival time.” He nodded to Joe who was already on his feet, heading for the pilot.
“Twenty minutes.” Still too late. Dimitri stared at Lake as the man dia
lled and arranged for a car to be at the field waiting for them, engine running.
“It’s doable.” Grunt surprised him by speaking.
“Callum will text us the final meeting point when he gets it,” Lake said. “At least we’ll be in the area and not that far behind them.”
“Yeah,” was all Dimitri could say.
Once the car was sorted, Lake called Callum back to tell him about the change of plans and ask him to stall until they got there.
Joe returned and perched on the edge of his seat. “It’s done. Arriving at Biggin Hill will take a few minutes off our flight time. We should touch down a couple of minutes before six.”
“Good,” Lake said. “Now all we need is that final location, the meeting point for the exchange, and we’re good to go.”
There was nothing they could do but wait. They were helpless. Stuck high above continental Europe while Megan walked into danger. For Katrina. No. For him. She was doing it for him. On the outside, Dimitri knew all his teammates would see was a trained soldier who was calm and ready for action. Inside, his mind was stuck on repeat. A continual desperate prayer. One sentence over and over. One fear consuming him. One action he hoped never to make. His prayer was simple.
“Don’t make me choose.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
They had to leave in seven minutes, otherwise they wouldn’t make it to the meeting point Durand had chosen. Seven minutes. There was time enough to change her mind. Time enough to call the whole thing off. She could run back to Scotland. She could hide until someone else found Reynard Durand and dealt with him.
She could leave Katrina Raast to die.
Megan leaned her forehead on the cool glass of the mirror. Her hands clasped tightly on the porcelain sink. One breath. Two. A glance at her wristwatch. Six minutes to change her mind. Only a fool would run into a situation she probably wouldn’t come out of. What made Katrina’s life worth more than hers?
Reckless (Benson's Boys Book 1) Page 23