Be Mine (20 page)

C
illa bit her nail, then flicked her hand in pain when she bit it too the quick. She placed both palms on her eyes, wincing when she accidentally touched the scratch on her cheek.

What have I done?

She looked at the sleeping child on the bed. She shouldn't have done what she did. Shouldn't have given the child a sweet laced with something to make him fall asleep. Shouldn't have hurt the old lady, but she didn't want to stop talking, didn't want to...

By now, Luke and his girlfriend would know that the boy had been kidnapped. They'd know that she was the one who took him away. She was the one they'd identify to the police. The one they'd hate. Hell, Luke already didn't like her for the stunt she pulled at the fair several weeks ago. Fact was, she was cool with it. So many people already hated her for who she had become, what was one more person added to the list? She gave a cynical laugh at the memory of her drug supplier making her bail. Another nail on her coffin of debt she'd pay for once again with her body.

Maybe this time, he'd ask for her life.

And then came the court injunction. She had been cool with it. She didn't like the idea that Luke had slipped out of her hands, but hey, there were less intelligent men out there, pretty boys pretending to be alpha males until she took them in her mouth and they became docile as lambs led to the slaughter. But her supply had run out and she needed more drugs that shielded her from the vacuum that threatened to swallow her. She had no choice but to return to Holbrook and this time he wasn't asking her for cash.

Cilla sat on the bed by the sleeping boy, watched as his chest moved as he breathed, looked at the long lashes that fanned his chubby cheeks. She reached out, stopped, then proceeded to gently brush the lock of sandy brown hair away from his forehead. The boy's mouth moved in a sucking motion as though latching on a pacifier. Cilla giggled softly, her smile softening the pinched lines of her mouth before loneliness replaced her momentary happiness at the innocence that lay before her. Something she had only for a short while before it was abruptly taken away from her.

She slowly stood up from the bed and fixed the duvet up to the boy's chest. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she walked towards the bay window, seeing only her reflection thrown by the lamp by the bed. Outside was a dark void, illuminated only by headlights of cars passing the huge estate. She saw shadows of men patrolling the ground, men who hadn't been there earlier before the sun went down. How many were there? Three? A dozen? She had no idea since she ensconced herself in the room with the child. Neither did she see anyone as she went up the marble staircase that curved upwards to the first floor. The gated entrance's lights were not lit, and Cilla was sure that the lack of brightness made the mansion's facade untouchable, it's owner aloof. They were alike, she and this seemingly impenetrable fortress. Strong and cruel. But unlike the owner of the mansion, she was vulnerable inside, lonely, always seeking to be redeemed from the life forced upon her by her aunt when her parents didn't want to have anything to do with her.

Her mouth curved to the side in a mirthless smile. People saw her as the bitch, the slut, the drug addict that she was. She had no qualms about that, no apologies were forthcoming from her lips. Yes, she longed to gain even just a piece of temporary heaven. Where she could find peace, where no one vilified her. How could she, Cilla Williams, belong to someone who'd make her believe she was a princess and he a knight in shining armour, who'd take her away from this life she led to a life where the slate was wiped clean, and where she could start all over again?

No wonder such notions were called fairy tales.

Her eyes travelled down her cosmetically enhanced body reflected on the bay window. Yes, she was beautiful and sexy. Her expertly placed makeup and continuous visits to the clinic kept the ravages of drug use beneath the surface. She had collected a bag of tricks that could make men kneel at her feet. Except Luke Bryce. Sex gave her what she wanted to get ahead, allowing her the luxuries she couldn't afford. It gave her solace as well as further propping up the idea of acceptance in a materialistically dominated world.

And she hated it. God, how she hated it during her moments of self-doubt. She hated herself for becoming the person that she was. An instrument to destroy so many lives.

No more.

She swivelled back to the room, looking around. Denholm didn't tell her which room to put the boy in, so Cilla chose the first room she came to as the child was getting heavy in her arms and it was a pain wearing Louboutins. The huge bed with a thick coverlet, the bathroom with a huge walk-in closet the size of another bedroom, and the plush cream carpet made her realize she had entered the master bedroom. And in the master bedroom, there would be untold delights.

Money.

Her training as a thief kicked in. Toeing off her shoes, she ran to the door and carefully locked it. While her gaze sharply assessed the nooks and crannies of the room and the bathroom, her ears were attuned to any sound from outside. She gave a cursory glance at the boy sleeping, making sure he was all right before she made a beeline to the walk-in closet. She opened drawers, riffling through the contents. Lace lingerie that felt like whispers across her skin tumbled from them. Several still had their tags, unused. She threw open the closets. Rows upon rows of clothes met her eyes. One closet filled with evening gowns sealed in plastic covers looked deep but when she touched the wall behind the clothes, it fell short. Working steadily, she felt her way through the bottom of the closets and upended the drawers on the floor.

Bingo.

Drawing the evening gowns aside, she saw a safe. Thank God it was a traditional one. Weird. For all of Denholm's wealth, he opted for a bloody simple safe. She only had a few precious minutes if she wanted to leave. Honing all her concentration on the safe, she placed her palm on the surface and her other hand on the dial. She closed her eyes and felt her finger pads thrum as she slowly turned the dial left to right.

Click.

The sound was so soft that only her fingers felt it. She opened the door and her eyes widened. A huge stash of fifty-pound notes filled the safe. Rummaging through the other closets, she found a black leather rucksack and stuffed all of the money inside the bag. When she got to the bottom of the pile, she saw a flash drive which she left behind. She took a clothes' bag and stuffed a few of the brand new lace lingerie still with their tags into the rucksack as well. Where she was going, she'd need a set of clean underwear. Next, she stripped off her clothes and took a pair of slim-fit black jeans and a black turtleneck, discarding her own clothes before wearing them. She took a short black velvet and wool coat with a hood from the dozen or so coats hanging from another closet and wore it over her turtleneck. They were the perfect fit. She checked the Jimmy Choos Maven boots size. Another feather in the fitting department. She was never allowed to meet any female from Denholm's family, but she said a silent thank you to whoever the clothes belonged to. As she turned to leave, the flash drive caught her eye. Her gut told her it was valuable. With a curse, she took the drive and placed it in her jeans pocket.

Cilla returned to the room. The child had moved and was now lying on his stomach. She looked at the door, then back at the child. What would Denholm do to him if she left? Pulse racing, she took out her phone. She had one last thing to do.

*  *  *

"Run that by me again."

"Denholm Holbrook is a drug lord," Oliver said.

Felicity and Luke both looked at him, but it was Luke who spoke. "And you know this because?"

"We've been gathering evidence to put him behind bars for a long time. We’ve been keeping tabs on him. And on you."

Felicity's scream was the last thing Oliver heard before Luke hit him. He fell to the ground, pain exploding in his jaw, his head buzzing.

"Who the fuck are you?" Luke towered above him, his fists at his sides.

Oliver winced. Yup, he deserved that, but if Luke took a foot into his solar plexus, Oliver would knock him cold, and he wouldn't give a shit. He jerked as gentle hands held him up. His skin warmed, and Felicity's fragrance almost made him sigh.

"You okay?" Was that concern in her voice? Nope. Hardly.

"I'm fine." He didn't mean to say it curtly, but damn his face hurt. Luke stood braced for a comeback, but he raised his arm, palm face up. "I'm not going to fight you, Bryce. We need to get that boy out of the mansion before it's flooded by agents."

"What agents?" Another female voice came from the doorway nearing the place where he was slowly getting up. "Who are you? Do you know where my son is?"

Oliver saw the tear streaked face of Gracie Sinclair fill with hope. "Yes, I do." He zeroed on Luke. "Truce for now, Bryce. I'll answer all your questions later."

Luke's face was stony, and regret filled Oliver when he also saw the hurt of betrayal in his neighbour's eyes. He banked it. Feelings could get him killed. He had no time for that when his sense of duty became foremost in his mind. He had been tailing father and son for a few years, and he had enough evidence to show that Luke was in no way involved in Denholm Holbrook's operations.

And Felicity?

Oliver knew about her, even found her attractive in the surveillance photos. Another agent had been assigned to tail her and with him continuously being dragged all over the world, she had become just another familial extension. She hadn't even been a passing fancy.

Until now.

Oliver straightened to his full height. "Let's go inside, and I'll tell you what we need to do." He looked at everyone before pinning Luke with a glare. "You in? Decide in ten seconds."

Luke didn't reply. Instead, he took Gracie's hand and stalked back into the house.

Oliver heaved a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, I guess you really are an asshole." Felicity looked at him with disappointment before she followed her brother.

Oliver was used to being called names and receiving death threats. Felicity's comment was just another one that should have slid down a duck's back.

Fuck, why did that hurt?

As soon as they entered the house, Gracie took her hand out of Luke's grasp. She was moving away from him, her body caving in to itself with her arms around her waist like a shield. His chest tightened in despair and hurt even as he understood. He watched the woman he loved sit between Theresa and Noreen, both huddling her and holding her hands. If he could take away her pain, he would. If Oliver had a plan, he was all ears if only to spare Gracie from more anguish.

"Explain, Cray." Luke approached him. "Start talking so that I don't sock you again."

Oliver's mouth thinned but nodded. "Holbrook came to our attention several years ago."

"Who's attention?" Felicity joined the conversation.

"I can't tell you, except we're the good guys." Oliver raised his hand, stopping brother and sister from interrupting. "Please trust me on this."

Brother and sister exchanged glances before they nodded with reluctance.

"Felicity, you know the layout of the house. Is there anywhere I can get through without being seen?"

Felicity stared at him blankly before her eyes cleared, and she nodded. "The kitchen door is always open, but you'd have to go through the dining area, which opens to the living room on your left and the patio to the right."

"No guards?"

"Not that I noticed." She blew out a breath, her face twisted in confusion and hurt. "But after what you've told us, I don't know anymore."

"But you live there." Luke's brows met looking at the sister who had been willing to get to know him when he felt every one of his father’s family just wanted him dead.

"I haven't lived there for years, Luke." Felicity's mouth quirked to one side. "I haven't spoken to my family in years."

"Save the family reunion for later." Oliver took out his mobile phone. "I'm going to buy us some time."

Felicity's face reddened and for some reason, Luke felt his ire rise. "Watch it, Cray."

Oliver shot him a glance before turning his back on them while he spoke to someone on his phone.

"I didn't know," Luke said.

Felicity gave an unladylike snort. "Perhaps if you weren't suck an asshat and gave me a chance to explain, you would have." She scowled. "And don't pull that scowl at me, Luke. Whether you like it or not, I'm your baby sister, so deal with it."

Luke's phone rang, stopping him from retorting.

"What the hell?" he swore. He saw the caller's name and was filled with fury. "Cray!"

Oliver whipped his head around.

"It’s Cilla."

"W
hat the hell did you do, Cilla?" Luke placed her on speakerphone. No shelter would save Cilla from the gathering storm on his face.

Gracie's head snapped up, and she stood, grabbing Luke's phone. "Cilla, this is Gracie. Where's Flynn? Why did you kidnap my son? Don't hurt him. Please don't hurt him."

Silence.

"Cilla, please." Gracie's face crumpled. If she had to beg, she would. If she had to give up Luke, she would, even if it broke her heart all over again. Just to get Flynn back. She opened her mouth to speak when Oliver immediately placed his finger against his lips, motioning for her to keep quiet.

"Hear that?" His voice was low.

Everyone stood around the mobile phone, immobile, including Theresa and Noreen. Then they heard sobbing.

"Bryce, talk to her," Oliver said in a low voice. "Calm her down. We don't know what she's capable of doing."

Gracie felt the blood rush out of her face. She blinked several times. No way was she going to faint. Luke's friend, what was his name? She couldn't remember but the harsh planes of his face softened. Deep in the depleting well of her sanity she knew she could trust him.

"I'm sorry, Gracie," he said. "But it had to be said."

Gracie knew that everyone was pitching in to help. She knew she should be grateful, but she couldn't bring herself to feel that when she was a walking pillar of anxiety. She nodded instead before her gaze met Luke's and saw his pain. Oh God, Flynn meant a lot to Luke too. How could she give him up? How could she take away the only family he found happiness with? Gracie realized she couldn't do this to him. By giving Luke up to the woman on the phone, she was giving up whatever peace he sought. Luke was her redemption. She was his. They were so intricately intertwined that one couldn't be without the other because if they did, there wouldn't just be one broken person.

There would be two.

The moment she made that decision, the thought of ceding their future to someone else slipped away. They were stronger together. They would get through this.

They would get Flynn back.

"Talk to her, Luke." Gracie gripped his arm, caressing his face with her eyes, knowing that her deep abiding love for him showed in them. "For Flynn's sake."

Luke's deep eyes softened in response, the rigid contours of his face relaxing. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. Heaving a sigh, he looked down at the phone.

"Cilla...why did you do it?"

"I'm sorry. I had no choice," she said between sobs. "He made me do it. To get to you."

Gracie felt the tension in Luke's arm. He continued in an even keel. "Who made you do it?"

"My supplier. Holbrook." There was a fit of sobbing. "I couldn't pay...told me to get the boy."

"How did he know about the boy, Cilla?" His voice started taking on a quiet fury.

"Bryce," Oliver mouthed in warning.

Cilla didn't seem to notice. "He has been watching you...always watching you. He was in the zoo when you and your girlfriend went there."

Gracie hadn't been wrong after all when she remembered the feeling of someone always behind them at the zoo.

"I have to go. I—"

"Cilla, this is Gracie," she butted in. Urgency made her voice crack. "Please, is Flynn all right?"

"Yes, he is. You have a beautiful boy." Cilla's voice lost its edge. She sounded nicer, friendlier. "Look, Gracie, I'm not a murderer, and Flynn is safe with me. But I can't stay. I have to go."

Luke tightened his hold on the phone. "You can't go."

"I must, and I will, Luke." The hardness returned. "I'm not staying, that's why I called. Flynn and I are inside the master bedroom. He will be safe here."

"Who will stay with my son? You said to trust

you—"

"He will be safe here. If Holbrook hasn't called you, then he's too busy plotting how to get Luke here. That much I know."

"Don't go, Cilla. Please. Stay with my son." Gracie took the phone from Luke's hand. She couldn't believe she was asking the woman who had taken pains to keep her and Luke apart to guard the one person that was more precious to her than her own life. “I’m begging you.”

"I wish I could, but I want out of this...life. I can't, I'm sorry, Gracie." Her voice thick. "Goodbye Luke."

"Cilla!"

Luke watched Oliver run out of the house, talking on his phone. "Change of plans! Close in! Secure the master bedroom. There's a child in there!" He started his bike and sped away, the machine an angry powerful roar in the night.

Luke ran to the Maserati, followed closely by Gracie and Felicity. Noreen held Theresa close. Around them, several people were out of their houses, watching the scene unfold before them.

"I'm coming with you," Gracie went to the passenger seat.

"You don't know where the house is," Felicity added.

Luke ran his hand through his hair.

"Get in the car, both of you," he growled.

*  *  *

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.