Callum ignored the tone and pointed at him. “See that? I like that. You should all do it before you open your mouth. What is it, Jack?”
“Mum didn’t throw away the bag. She gave it to me to throw away.” He hesitated and shuffled his feet. “I didn’t exactly do what she asked me to do.”
Callum stilled. “Spit it out.”
“I traded the stuff for a video game I wanted.” The words came out in a rush, and his cheeks flushed a little when he realised he now had the undivided attention of everyone in the room.
“Traded it with whom?” Callum said.
Jack looked around before fixing his eyes on Callum. “Friend of mine. She’s making a robot, and I thought she could recycle some of the gear. Use it for parts or something.”
“Does this friend of yours still have the stuff?” Elle asked, practically bouncing with excitement.
“I think so.”
“Where is she?” Callum said. “She local?”
“She’s in Campbeltown,” Jack said. “We go to school together.”
Callum looked at Ryan. “Guess you’re going to Campbeltown. Take Jack and get that stuff back. Pay for it if you have to.”
“It’s late,” Jack said. “By the time we get there, we’ll be waking her family up. Her dad will be mad. Can it wait until the morning?”
“No.” Callum stared at Jack until he looked away.
“I’ll tell Mum where I’m going.” He dragged his feet out of the room.
“I’ll come with you.” Rachel picked up her black leather bag. “I managed to find a room in a hotel in Campbeltown that isn’t too awful. You can drive me instead of me having to call for a cab.”
“Thanks,” Ryan muttered.
“If you don’t need me,” Rachel said to Callum, “I’ll head back to London tomorrow. Something has come up that needs my attention.”
“We’ll be fine without you,” Callum said.
“More than fine,” Ryan muttered.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Rachel told Ryan. “Don’t take too long.” She strode from the room, expecting Ryan to follow.
He did so reluctantly, giving Callum a dirty look as he passed. “This is punishment for giving you great relationship advice, isn’t it?”
“This is work,” Callum said. “Nothing more. Suck it up and act professionally for once.”
Ryan let out a sigh. “And even though you say stuff like that, I still prefer working with you to working with Cruella.”
The door slammed behind Ryan and Jack as they went out to meet with Rachel.
“There are two bedrooms up here,” Callum said to the three team members left. “Sort yourselves out in them. I’m sleeping downstairs after I call Lake, and the Sinclair sisters leave.”
“Bagsy the one with the bathroom,” Megan shouted.
Dimitri grinned at her. “Guess we’re in the master bedroom.”
“I don’t care where I sleep,” Elle said. “I have searches running, so I’ll probably camp in here with my baby.” She stroked her laptop lovingly.
“I wonder about you,” Megan said.
“I wonder about all of you,” Callum muttered, and headed off to find somewhere quiet to talk to Lake.
CHAPTER 20
ISOBEL COULDN’T SLEEP. SOPHIE DIDN’T have the same problem. They were sharing a room with bunk beds, and she was out cold on the top bunk, snoring adorably. Isobel couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent a night where she didn’t listen to Sophie. As soon as she’d been born, Rob had run off and Isobel hadn’t been able to afford the mortgage on the house they’d bought together. She’d sold the place for just enough to cover its cost, and moved into the only rental available in Arness—the two-bedroom house that had burned to the ground. She remembered well the nights lying in bed listening to her baby daughter breathe, wondering how she was going to make it through the next week—heck, the next ten minutes. But she’d done it. She’d built a life for her kids and had been fine. Until Rob’s past was thrust upon her.
She tossed back the blankets and snuck out of bed. Jack was staying in Campbeltown overnight because his friend was away visiting family and wouldn’t be back until the following afternoon. Ryan and Jack wanted to be there as soon as she arrived, to get the things Jack should have thrown out—things Jack had swapped for something he’d wanted, because Isobel couldn’t afford even a second-hand game for her son. She felt her chest clench at the thought, and knew there would be no sleep that night. Her memories were just too close. She pulled on the woollen socks Agnes had given her and let herself out of her room, wearing only her underwear and an old grey T-shirt she’d borrowed from Callum.
The strange basement apartment was silent as Isobel made her way into the kitchen area. She glanced at Callum’s room and saw that the door was still closed. She didn’t know if he was in there. He’d been upstairs, plotting, when she’d gone to bed. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she took some milk from the fridge, poured a glass and popped it in the microwave, hoping a warm drink would help her sleep—or at least relax.
“Can’t sleep either?” The rumbling voice wasn’t a surprise. Part of Isobel had hoped Callum would be there.
He was standing in the doorway to his room, no shirt, but his jeans and shoes still on.
“You want some warm milk?”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t mind a whisky, but I don’t keep that in the house.”
“I remember.” The microwave pinged, and she reached for her drink. It seemed like an eternity ago that she’d been sitting in his kitchen, having a mini-breakdown and begging him to help her.
“Did your team get any further in finding out who the dead man is…was?”
“No.” He stalked towards her like a lazy cat. “The more we dig, the more anomalies we find. I don’t like any of it.”
Isobel felt a wave of guilt sweep through her and looked away from his too-perceptive gaze. “When we leave, will you let this drop?” There was no need for him to continue searching when the body was gone and she wasn’t around to be at risk.
“No. There’s something here that needs uncovering.” There was steely resolve in his voice, and Isobel knew that Callum wasn’t the type of man to walk away from danger.
“I’m sorry I brought this to your door.” She raised her eyes to his and was once again astonished at how intense they were. He wasn’t an easy man, and he didn’t even try to hide that. She could imagine that he terrified most people, yet, for some reason, his dark intensity only drew her to him.
She saw his jaw tighten and the muscles in his shoulders turn to stone. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you earlier.”
Her stomach lurched, and she placed a hand on it to somehow steady it. “Is Jack okay? Did someone follow them? Are there more dead people? Did you kill the loan shark? Are the police after me?” The words came tumbling out, all of her fears piling one on top of the other.
He shook his head slowly as though she mystified him. “Woman, calm down. This has nothing to do with anything but what’s going on between you and me.”
“Don’t call me woman and don’t tell me to calm down. Seriously, Callum, hasn’t anyone told you that’s the worst thing to say to a person when you want them to calm down? It just makes me want to scream.” As she lectured him, his words registered and she felt pain around her heart. Most likely the beginnings of full-blown cardiac arrest. “Wait a minute. Are you married? Do you have a family somewhere else?”
“What? No.”
“Are you sick? Did you come here to die?” Oh my goodness, that had to be it. Why else would he walk away from everything and hide in Arness?
“No.”
She opened her mouth to ask if he was about to go on a dangerous mission from which he might never return—it was the next thing that occurred to her, but, given time, she was sure there would be plenty more.
“No.” He strode right up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Enough. Do
n’t say another word. Just listen to what I have to say.”
“I can’t. There are so many terrible things going through my mind.”
He covered her mouth with a palm while his other hand cupped the back of her neck. His face went completely blank as he distanced himself from what he was about to say. Isobel almost threw her milk at him to get him to hurry up.
“I have prosthetic legs,” he said at last, his voice devoid of emotion.
Callum stared down at Isobel and waited for her reaction, at the same time dreading what it would be. He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that there was no going back to the way she looked at him before he’d told her. She’d seen him as a hero. As almost invincible. He hadn’t wanted to give that up, to see pity and disgust in her eyes instead of hope. He had been tempted to let the topic lie. To distance himself from her and never let her know about his legs. To have the memory of how she’d once looked at him to keep him going in the years to come. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t that man. He’d been a coward long enough.
Isobel blinked at him with her impossibly large eyes, then said something against his hand.
“Sorry.” He dropped his hands, folded his arms and put some distance between them.
“What did you say?” She clutched at her glass of milk.
Twice. He had to say it twice. “I have prosthetic legs.”
She studied his face for a minute before looking down at his jeans and then back up to his face. “I don’t understand.”
“My legs were blown off in Afghanistan. I lost both, above the knees. Everything from my thigh down is manmade.” He hated saying it. Hated that he had to confess being less than a complete man. Hated that he was waiting to witness the dismay that would hit her. The dismay she’d try to hide. To be polite. To be caring.
“And?” she said, looking confused.
Callum reeled. “What do you mean, and?”
“Is that it?” She put her milk on the counter beside her. “Nobody’s dead? Jack’s fine? We’re fine? In as much as two people can be who don’t want a relationship with each other but keep having sex.”
Callum felt a strange bubbling sensation in his stomach. It took him a minute to realise that it was the beginnings of hope.
“Woman, I just told you that I have metal legs. I have stumps where my knees should be. I have scars. It’s ugly and it’s a liability because I don’t have the same mobility I had before I lost them. Isn’t that enough for you? Bloody hell, woman, you had sex with half a man.”
There was a heartbeat of silence and then Isobel burst out laughing.
“What the hell?” Callum really wished he still had scotch in the house, because he needed it. Never mind that he had lost his legs—obviously Isobel had lost her mind.
He watched as Isobel held on to the counter as she laughed hard. At last, she wiped her eyes and looked at him. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you losing your legs. I’m laughing because I thought it was something serious. Not that you didn’t go through something terribly serious. I can only imagine how traumatic and painful it must have been. I guess I mean I was expecting you to tell me about something life-threatening that affected us right now. Not something that happened in the past. And, before you say anything, a wife would have been life-threatening, because I would have killed you.”
Callum didn’t know how to react. He wanted to shake some sense into her or kiss her until she was panting. Or run hard and fast in the opposite direction. Or claim her as his, right then and there.
“I don’t think you understand what I’m telling you,” he said. “I don’t have any legs.”
She looked down and pointed at his jeans. “Yes you do. You just don’t have skin-and-bone legs.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that you had sex with half a man?” Seriously, she needed a keeper, or a good psychiatrist.
Her smile was wide and her eyes sparkled. “Really, it’s more like four-fifths of a man.”
He raked his hands into his hair. “Why aren’t you shouting at me for keeping this from you?”
“Callum, we’ve been intimate for three whole days. You don’t know everything about me either. Neither one of us is perfect. I’ve had two kids, I live on junk food—most of the time. I have stretch marks and cellulite and flab. My boobs are saggy and my hips are too big.”
“Are you seriously comparing your cellulite to my missing feet?”
Isobel giggled as she held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, but that’s a really funny sentence.” She giggled again, and Callum felt the strange sensation of laughter inside.
“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough,” he said. “I don’t think you realise what it looks like, or what it means. I’m reliant on plastic legs. I spend a chunk of my time in a wheelchair. I don’t have the same mobility as most people. Hell, without my legs, I can’t even stand.”
She started laughing so hard that she had to hold on to the counter to stay upright.
“I mean my prosthetic legs,” he snapped.
She kept on laughing. Callum threw up his hands and waited for the little nutcase to calm down. But as he did, he felt a warmth flooding through him as her weird reaction undid some of the hardened anxiety that sat like a lump inside him.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry.” She worked to calm herself but couldn’t stop grinning. “Carry on.” She motioned for him to continue.
Callum stood watching her and shaking his head. In all the scenarios he’d imagined when he told her about his legs, laughter hadn’t been one of them. Actually, now that he thought about it, the main reaction he’d expected was disgust and anger. He hadn’t considered anything past that.
“I’m sorry, Callum, I have a sick sense of humour. I didn’t mean to make you feel self-conscious about your limb loss.” She was so earnest that he found himself falling into her beautiful eyes.
Strangely enough, her odd reaction had made him feel less self-conscious than he’d felt for a long time. “Limb loss?”
“I don’t know what to call it. Is it a disability? An injury? A maiming? What’s the right term? ‘Disability’ sounds kind of wrong when you’re obviously very able.” Her eyes went wide and her lips made a little oh shape. “Oh my goodness, that’s how you broke that guy’s wrist with one kick. You have bionic legs. It’s like a superpower.”
Callum shook his head. She was completely insane. And if he wasn’t mistaken, her attention had taken a turn south. Towards a much hotter zone. Her eyes were skimming over his bare chest as she bit her bottom lip.
“You were so amazing during that fight,” she said before she licked her lips.
“Isobel, focus. We’re talking about my legs.”
“Show me.”
Callum almost took a step back. “What?”
“Show me the legs.”
He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The heat in her eyes was completely at odds with what she was asking. It made no sense.
“You don’t want to see them.”
“I do.” She nodded. “I want to see you naked.” Her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink.
Callum ran a hand through his hair. “I think you have the wrong idea here. There’s nothing sexy about this. You might think my mechanical legs give me superpowers or something, but the reality is that they are pieces of metal where flesh should be.”
Her face turned suspiciously innocent. “Are you scared?”
“No.” He said it far too fast, and she gave him a knowing smile.
“Chicken.”
He growled, wrapped his hand around her wrist and strode towards his bedroom, dragging her behind him.
“I don’t know why I bother with you,” he said as he swung the door shut.
“Because I’m easy?”
He knew she was joking, but he also knew what the folk in town said about her. And he didn’t like any of it. He grasped her chin and made her look at him. “Never say that again. You are a passionate and sensual woman. Y
ou lose yourself in the moment. You are not easy. Never that. Okay?”
Her eyes filled and she nodded before stepping back. She cleared her throat and signalled at his jeans.
“Strip.” Her smile was devilish. “If you dare.”
CHAPTER 21
ELLE WAS DREAMING. A FIRM, soft touch lifted her hands above her head and secured them with fur-lined cuffs. She smiled in her dream. This was new. He’d never used handcuffs before. And neither had she. Elle liked new experiences. Even if they only happened in her dreams.
“Did you miss me, gorgeous?”
“Mmm.” She shifted on the bed, feeling the cool sheets against her suddenly hot and sensitive skin. “Where have you been?”
In her dreams, he often talked of new and exotic places, keeping her guessing about where he was, exactly the way he did in real life.
“You figured out who I am yet?” She felt his breath against her hair and realised he was sitting on the bed beside her.
“Nearly.” She sounded sultry and needy. Something she would never have let him see outside of her dream. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“Time, huh?”
She felt fingertips trail down her cheek to her lips, and her eyes opened, seeking out the face she’d seen ever so briefly in Peru, but couldn’t get out of her mind. “David,” she whispered.
Only this time, the room was dark in her dream and she could barely make him out in the shadows. She blinked to get a better look and realised her eyes weren’t only open in her dream. All at once, she was staring into the dark of her borrowed bedroom, looking up at the man she’d been trying to identify for months. She blinked several times, trying to figure out what was reality and what wasn’t.
“You’re really here, aren’t you?” She sounded sleepy and slightly disorientated.
“Yeah.” That nondescript accent of his seemed to roll more than she remembered. Southern US? Was there a hint in there? “Cute nightwear.” She heard, rather than saw, a smile in his voice.
All at once, Elle was very much awake and more than aware that she had been sleeping in her Wonder Woman vest and underpants. She jerked up, but her arms held her back. Her eyes shot to her wrists, and damn if he hadn’t actually handcuffed her. Only they weren’t the fur-lined leather cuffs from her dream. These ones were fluffy and, if she wasn’t mistaken in the dark, pink.
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