“Because,” Callum whispered, “Jack is bigger than you, he sneaks out of the house all the time, he has a brown belt in kung fu and he knows how to throw a punch.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You aren’t the only one who hears gossip.”
“How?” The man never left the damn house. How did he hear gossip? And why was Jack sneaking out? And who was he punching?
“Go,” Callum said to Jack, who nodded.
Callum turned towards the door, reaching for the gun Isobel noticed was tucked into the back of his jeans.
“No.” Isobel grabbed his arm. “You come too. We can’t leave you. You need to come with us.”
For a second, his eyes softened and Isobel thought he was on the verge of smiling. “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing. You concentrate on getting your family to safety. I’ll see you there soon.” He looked at Jack, and something passed between them in that look. Obviously at some point, without her noticing, Jack had learned to speak in silent men talk.
Without another word, Callum was gone.
Callum hated everything about Isobel’s house. He hated that there was only one set of stairs to the first floor and no other emergency exit. Which meant Isobel and the kids had to climb out the bathroom window, onto the tiny roof of the portico and then lower themselves to the ground. He hated that the garage door didn’t shut properly, so it had been all too easy for the intruders to get inside and find the body. A cheap padlock on the freezer wouldn’t stop them for long. And he hated that the locks on the house were worse than useless. But most of all, he hated that her good-for-nothing landlord hadn’t bothered to replace the broken glass in the window beside her kitchen door. Because that meant all the intruders had to do was pop out the wood covering the empty window frame, reach in and open the door. Breaking into Isobel’s house was child’s play. Sophie could have done it.
If Callum hadn’t been lying on the living room sofa, no one in the family would have known someone was in the house until it was too late. But Callum had been wide awake when the asshole broke in. He’d snuck up on the man in the kitchen and knocked him out, before sliding him into the large pantry. A few seconds later, he had the guy’s hands and feet cable tied and his mouth gagged. Callum had shut the door and slid a chair up under the handle to keep the man there. When this mess was finished, Callum had a few questions for him.
Locking up one of the men wasn’t perfect—he was still able to make noise when he woke up—but it had bought Callum enough time to see that the guy had come with four friends, all of whom were in the garage. After that, Callum had run upstairs to get everyone out.
Now it was time to hunt.
It was time to find out exactly who these men were and what they wanted.
The house was eerily silent as he made his way back down to the kitchen. He kept an ear out for Isobel and her kids, prepared to run to help if they needed him. It didn’t sit well with him that he’d entrusted a sixteen-year-old kid with their safety. With no backup team and no other option, he had to rely on the boy. But Callum had a sneaking suspicion that Jack was no ordinary kid. When he’d crept into Jack’s room to wake him, he’d found the kid fully dressed and in a position to defend himself. He’d taken one look at Callum’s face and said, “How many are there?”
Callum didn’t know what Isobel had done to raise the kids, but whatever it was, it was damn good. Jack was a son anyone would be proud to have.
At the bottom of the stairs, Callum stilled and listened. There was noise coming from the backyard. Slowly, silently, he made his way through to the kitchen. Isobel wasn’t one of those women who put lace curtains up in every room. Her kitchen window only had a faded roller blind, and it hadn’t been pulled closed. Even though the light was off, Callum was aware that movement would be spotted through the window, so he kept to the side as he edged closer.
The men had found the body, which was no surprise. Two of them were hauling it down the lane towards the road, where they must have parked their vehicles. The other two were headed straight for the house. All of the men were nondescript in appearance, their features generic. They could have been born anywhere. The only other thing they had in common was that they moved with confidence. Not training, exactly, but the confidence that came with experience. These men had been in situations like this before.
One of the men signalled to his partner to go around to the front of the house while he took the back. Callum couldn’t allow that. The front of the house had the portico over the door that Isobel and the kids were using to escape. He turned and made his way through the house, to head the guy off before he stumbled on Isobel.
Callum opened the front door as quietly as he could and slipped out into the crisp night air. Jack spun on him immediately, his hand coming up, weapon aimed at Callum. There was just enough hesitation for Callum to signal to him to be quiet. Jack nodded and turned his attention back to the roof above the front door, motioning for his mother to hand Sophie down to him.
With a glance up to Sophie and Isobel, Callum left Jack to get the job done, and silently moved to the corner of the house, ready to intercept the enemy when he appeared.
Terror was riding Isobel. The night was black. There were no lights on in her house, and the light from the lane barely cut through the darkness. Jack had lowered himself off the portico roof and was waiting for her to hand Sophie down. Suddenly, he signalled for her to get down. She did so immediately, flattening herself and Sophie to the narrow roof as Jack slipped into the shadows at the side of the doorway.
Isobel turned her head and watched as two men appeared from the back of her house, carrying the dead body. They moved quickly past the front of the house and down the lane to the road. As soon as they were out of sight, she heard Jack whisper for her. He motioned for Sophie, and just as Isobel was about to lower her daughter, Jack’s hand came up and he pointed the stun gun at someone coming out of the house.
For the longest second of her life, Isobel waited, unbreathing, as her son faced down the enemy. And then his arm lowered and Callum appeared. He glanced up at them and nodded before making his way to the corner of the house. Isobel’s heart was beating so loudly that she actually panicked that someone might hear. Sophie tensed in her arms, as though she was going to call out to Callum, and Isobel gently covered her mouth.
“Shh, baby,” Isobel whispered against her ear. “I’m going to hand you down to Jack. Don’t make any noise. This is just like when we play hide and seek. Only we don’t want the bad men to find us. Nod if you understand.” Her dark curls bobbed. “Good girl. Now hold my hands and I’m going to lower you to Jack. When I let go, he’ll catch you. Okay?” The trust in the answering nod almost made Isobel weep.
Without hesitation, Isobel lowered Sophie to Jack’s waiting arms, sending up a prayer of thanks that her three-year-old took after her and was slight enough not to pull Isobel over the edge with her. Jack was tall and his hands were around Sophie’s waist before Isobel had to lower her too far. He held his sister to him and signalled for Isobel to come down next.
Isobel had turned, ready to lie on her belly and lower herself, when there was a sharp whistle. She looked over her shoulder at Jack, who signalled for her to lie flat. He stepped into the shadow, holding Sophie to him. There was another low whistle and she peeked over the edge in time to see Callum signalling for Jack to run with Sophie. Isobel’s breath caught, but she completely agreed—the kids had to get to safety. They couldn’t, shouldn’t wait for her. Jack pointed to Isobel, clearly meaning that he didn’t want to leave her. Isobel let out a hiss to attract his attention and waved him off. From the way Callum was pointing his gun at the corner of the house, someone was coming, and Isobel wanted her kids gone before they arrived.
Jack shook his head stubbornly, but before she could shoo him off again, Callum made a growling sound and pointed at himself, then her hiding spot, making it clear to Jack that he’d look after his mother. Jack nodded reluctantly, gave one last look to Isobel and then tu
rned and ran with Sophie. The whole thing took only a matter of seconds, and Isobel kept her eyes on her kids until they disappeared into the night. Heart racing, she looked to Callum for reassurance, but his focus was on whoever was coming their way.
Isobel wasn’t stupid. Whoever was coming was dangerous. Otherwise Callum would have allowed her to get off the roof. She placed her forehead on the cool concrete beneath her and prayed her kids would be safe. Her kids had to be okay. Please keep them safe…please keep them safe…please…
She heard gravel underfoot and peeked over the edge. A man strode around the corner of the building—straight into Callum. They clashed with a ferocity that forced the air out of her lungs. She’d never seen anything like it. Never. It was the raw power of tempestuous waves striking at immovable rock. And yet it was also like a brutal choreographed dance.
There was no sound except the odd grunt. Neither man used a gun, although both were clearly armed. Instead, there was the sound of flesh smacking flesh. Bone striking bone. They circled each other, striking fast and hard. Callum dodged a punch to his jaw and caught the man in the stomach. The man stepped back, spun and came out with a knife. Callum growled, low, mean, feral. If he’d been dangerous before, then this was something else. This was the nuclear option. His demeanour changed somehow, and his movements became tighter, more efficient. He dodged the knife, stepped back, spun and kicked the man’s wrist. The knife went flying.
There was a yelp, like a dog in pain. The man grasped his wrist, which was hanging at a strange angle. Callum had destroyed it with one kick. He didn’t relent. His next kick took out the man’s knee. He crumpled, howling now. For a second, it seemed as though Callum was going to walk away. He lifted his eyes to hers. Those dark, deadly eyes. But a flicker of movement brought his attention back to the man on the ground.
He had a gun in his good hand, and it was pointed at Callum.
“No!” Isobel was up, ready to jump off the roof and save him. Somehow.
Callum kicked out. The hand with the gun crumpled with another agonised howl. Callum knelt beside the man, said something Isobel couldn’t hear and reached for his head. When Callum stood, the man was dead.
When he turned to Isobel, it was as if she was seeing him in slow motion. There was blood on his jaw. Blood on his knuckles. Sweat glistening on his brow. His muscles were tense and ready. His eyes were hard. This wasn’t a man who whispered soft words. This was a Viking. A warrior. A hero.
He strode towards her, covering the distance in silence. “Down,” he said, and held up his arms for her.
Isobel snapped out of her daze and realised she was still lying flat on the tiny roof. Her whole body shook. Her brain couldn’t process the violence she’d just witnessed.
“Isobel,” he growled, a command she didn’t dare defy.
She turned and lowered her legs over the side until she felt the edge of the roof bite into her stomach. It pressed against the bruise left by Ray’s fist, and for a second the world turned white. She broke out in a sweat with the pain, but fought through it, praying that the ribs weren’t cracked and that she wasn’t making the damage worse. Grasping the edge and flexing her meagre biceps, she lowered herself further. Before she could extend her arms and hang from her fingertips before dropping to the ground, Callum was there, his strong hands at her waist. He took her weight and lowered her to safety. As his hands pressed against her ribs, Isobel winced and stifled a moan.
He stilled, before turning her in his arms. Slowly, he lifted the edge of her shirt. His eyes went hard when he saw the bruise.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
Isobel’s mouth was dry. Her body was shaking. She curled her fingers into Callum’s T-shirt and held on tight. His hands ran up and down her arms, warming her, comforting her, but there was no softening in his eyes. Her attention strayed to the body. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Fingers on her jaw gently turned her head. “Look at me. Not at him.”
Isobel swallowed and nodded. She knew he hadn’t had a choice. She knew it. She’d watched the whole thing. And still, her eyes were drawn back to the body.
“No.” He turned her head again.
“I’ve never seen someone die before.” She hoped he realised her words were a confession, not a condemnation. She knew he’d had to do it. The man was going to kill him.
“I need you to run to my house,” Callum said.
Her hands tightened in his shirt. “You’re coming too.”
“I need to deal with the men who’re still here. I have questions.”
“No. You need to come with me.”
“Think, Isobel,” he snapped. “The kids need you. I can take care of myself. Go. I’ll be there soon.” He pried her fingers from his shirt and pushed her in the direction of the path through the trees—the one her kids had taken, the one that didn’t go near the road, where the other men might be waiting.
“Go.” With one last order, he turned and strode towards the house.
Isobel scurried into the cover of the trees and felt torn. What kind of person would she be if she left him there to face this alone? He was outnumbered. What if he got injured? What if he needed her help getting back to his house?
She pulled out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and texted Jack. Are you okay?
The answer was immediate: In Callum’s house. Heading for the basement. We’re safe. You?
On my way. Waiting for Callum.
There was a pause and then, Don’t do anything stupid.
Isobel chewed at her lip. There was absolutely no guarantee she could give. You’re sure you’re safe?
Absolutely.
I’ll be there soon.
She stopped texting Jack and dialled the emergency number. Her thumb sat over the call button as she waited for Callum. She could give him ten minutes. Ten minutes to see if he needed her to call in the cops. Even though she didn’t want them there, she would bring them in—for Callum. All she had to do was make it through the next ten minutes.
CHAPTER 15
THE BASTARDS HAD FILLED THE house with gas. The smell hit Callum full force as soon as he was through the front door. His eyes stung and he had to fight the urge to cough as he made his way along the hall to the kitchen. He wanted to get his prisoner out of there before the place blew. It was a courtesy these guys hadn’t afforded Isobel and her kids. It was obvious they’d intended to get rid of them from the moment they’d set foot on her property.
As he passed, Callum scanned the living room, gun in hand. There was no sign of life, and the gas bottle from the heater was sitting with its valve wide open. Holding his breath, he barely made it to the kitchen. The house was filling up fast. As soon as he opened the kitchen door, he knew trying to get his prisoner out wasn’t going to be possible. Time had run out. Gas from the oven had filled the room, and a small incendiary device sat in the middle of the kitchen table. There was a crude timer attached to the device.
With ten seconds on the clock.
Callum turned and ran for the front door. He propelled himself through the house and hit the night air just as the device went off. Gas ignited. A blast ripped through the building. It hit Callum square in the back, lifted him from his feet and propelled him across the yard. He landed hard beside Isobel’s overgrown bushes.
For a second, Callum lay there, gasping for air. He felt like his whole body had taken a beating, but at least his legs were still in place and seemed to function. With effort, he rolled over to lie on his back. A minute. That was all he needed. A minute to catch his breath, and then he would check on Isobel and the kids. At least they were safe in his house and not in the inferno before him. There was nothing to save from Isobel’s home. The whole structure had been blown to bits, and what little was left was now ablaze.
“Callum!”
His name came at him as though he was hearing it under water. He turned his head to see Isobel fall to her knees beside him. Callum g
roaned. So much for her being safe in his house. The woman really needed to be vaccinated against stupidity.
“Are you okay?” Her hands roamed his chest, presumably looking for injuries. “Of course you aren’t okay. You just got blown up!” Her voice went up an octave at the end, taking it into the realm only dogs could hear.
“I’m fine.” It came out as a croak, which irritated his throat and set off a hacking cough. The gas had done a number on him.
“You’re not fine.” She lifted her phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. And the police. I should have called them in months ago. I’m an idiot. I’m going to get everyone killed, including the only man who’s ever fought for me.”
“No.” Callum took the phone from her hands. “No cops. We need to regroup. We need to know where we stand. I have someone coming to help. We’ll wait until we know more before involving the cops.”
Isobel placed a palm on each of his cheeks and leaned down until her face was above his. “Callum, there’s no keeping this from the police. The whole of Arness will have heard that explosion. The cops will come anyway. We should get in there first. I’ll tell them the dead guy was self-defence. Better yet, let’s not mention him at all. Maybe they’ll think the intruders killed each other.”
Callum felt strength return to his remaining limbs. “There are no intruders. They’re gone. Just like we need to be.” He fought to sit up, scanning the area around the house. No sign of a body, just as he’d expected. “They took the guy I killed with them.”
“Why would they do that?”
“The same reason they took the other guy. They don’t want anyone to know they were here.”
She scowled at him. “Well, they shouldn’t have left him on the beach in the first place. That’s just bloody irresponsible. You can’t wander around leaving dead bodies where you please. And if they wanted to be covert, blowing up a building isn’t the way to do it. Even I know that!” She was shaking, her pupils dilated and her skin pale. She was struggling with shock.
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