Reid: An Eidolon Black Ops Novel: Book 3 Read online

  She’d brought him and his sisters up to know the difference between right and wrong, to do the right thing if they could. He’d gone through a phase of thinking he knew best, but she being the good Southern mom she was, she’d knocked that shit right out of him.

  Which was why he couldn’t get over his teammate’s betrayal. The entire team dynamic had shifted as they’d tried to fill the void Gunner had left. Each one of them was struggling to negate the feelings of guilt. Why hadn’t they seen it, why didn’t anyone know what was going on until it was too late? Then there was the doubt he’d caused. If Gunner could turn, would others?

  Jack had been quick to jump on that. He had them running drills every waking hour. When they weren’t on a job, they were training. Firearms training, tactical assault, hand to hand combat with Sensei Dave and his Systema team. Diving, underwater assault, fast roping, HALO jumping, rock climbing. Every single skill set they needed to be better than the best.

  Then there were the training operations they ran with the SAS and SBS up in the hills of the Pen-y-Fan, just over the border in Wales. Jack was working them harder and harder, the only concession being the one day off every two weeks he gave them. And it was working, forcing them to work together against exhaustion and anger. Training them harder than ever so when the time came for them to go after Gunner and the people who wanted to take them down, they’d be a seamless unit with no weaknesses and no exposed wound of betrayal.

  After the hundredth lap, Reid pulled himself from the pool and towelled off. Five minutes later he was headed to the firing range for some target practice.

  “Hey, Reid.”

  Reid turned to see Liam headed his way. He stopped and waited for him to catch up. “Hey, man. You look like shit.”

  Liam chuckled without humour and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, aren’t you just a ray of fucking sunshine.”

  Reid shrugged. “What can I do you for, Liam?”

  “Fancy a Ruby Murray later?”

  Reid stopped as he tried to filter through his cockney slang for the translation. “A curry, right?”

  Liam beamed. “You, my septic tank are getting the hang of this.”

  Reid shook his head at the term septic tank. The cockney name for a yank which, Liam used on him, Lopez, and Decker but never Waggs. Ever the class clown, Liam had more sense than to piss off the medic and especially an ex-Delta medic.

  “Yeah, count me in. Who else is going?”

  “Gonna see if we can get the boss man out and maybe Alex and Evelyn and Mitch, Lopez, and Decker.”

  “Cool. Usual place and time?”

  “Nah, gonna mix it up and try that new place on Whitecross road. Say around seven-ish?”

  “Sure. I’m headed to the range, wanna join me?”

  Liam peeled off. “I wish I could but I have a telephone conference with Princess prissy knickers.”

  Reid winced and walked away. Liam had been stuck babysitting a Saudi Princess after a hostage situation had come up during a recent trip with Jack and Will. The Saudi Princess was determined to prove to others that she was more than her money or title but in the process was causing a significant headache for Liam who’d been stuck with her initial detail and current protection plan.

  Usually, that would go to Blake, but it seemed the Princess would only deal with Liam, even though they seemed to hate each other. Ah well, not his monkeys, not his circus. As long as he was ready when Gunner came calling, he was happy.

  The afternoon at the firing range had relaxed him. Target practice always relaxed him, ever since he’d first held a gun in his hand when he was nine years old. Probably the only thing his old man had ever done for him was to take him out into the woods one weekend and teach him to shoot.

  Sliding the shower door open, Reid stepped out of the shower at his home and looked in the mirror. His entire body was covered in tattoos from his throat to his feet. Both his arms had full sleeves of tribal ink, his chest had the words trust and honour over the image of an American Bald eagle in flight, his throat was covered in open angel wings on either side with a dagger dripping blood down the middle over his Adam’s apple.

  He’d been itching to get more work done on the left side of his ribs but couldn’t settle on a design. Dismissing the thought, he combed his longer on top hair back from his forehead and sprayed on some deodorant before shoving his arms into a black t-shirt and slipping it over his head. Pushing his legs into black jeans, he tagged a belt, his phone, wallet, and keys and was out the door.

  His apartment, or as the locals called it a flat, was an easy walk into town, and one he didn’t mind. It’s second advantage was that it was close to the river. He didn’t know what it was about the water that appealed to him, but he always found himself gravitating towards it. It was why he’d specialised in the maritime section of the HRT field of operators.

  His BUDS training with the SEAL teams had been one of his favourite rotations when he was on the job. Working drove Reid, it always had. When his friends had been out tagging as much ass as they could, he’d been home with his mom and sisters or studying with Clay.

  Clay—that reminded him, he needed to call him back. When they’d been in the US with Blake and Pax over the summer, Clay had asked for a favour. Clay’s little sister Callie was going to be working in London in September and Clay wanted Reid to check up on her. She had seemed off apparently, and Clay was worried.

  Callie had to be around twenty-six now. He wasn’t sure exactly what she did, just that she travelled a lot. Despite having different mothers, Clay and Callie were close. She’d never visited Clay at his home though, so Reid had only met her when she’d been around five or six, and then only for a minute or two.

  Stepping into the dark décor of Rasbari, he looked around for his friends and saw them sitting in the corner facing the door. All of them had the ingrained instinct to look for an exit in any room and to never leave themselves open to an attack from behind.

  The pretty hostess looked him over, taking her time. Reid enjoyed the slow perusal of him from head to toe.

  “How may I help you?” The question was simple, but the suggestion in it was anything but.

  Reid gave her the once over. She was pretty, with dark hair, dark eyes, curves to die for, and a pouty mouth that would look good wrapped around his dick.

  Reid leaned forward and rested his arms on the small hostess stand. “Well, isn’t that a leading question, darlin.” He exaggerated his accent and watched as the woman’s eyes darkened to almost black with desire. He might let her warm his bed later, he’d see how he felt. He didn’t consider himself conceited, but he could have just about any tail he wanted.

  Not because he was American and they creamed their panties for his accent or because they found him irresistible, but because he had a bad boy vibe about him that women the world over wanted in their beds. He had the deadly and dangerous edge that excited them. They wanted to be the one to change him, to heal him, to tame him. Little did they know there was nothing bad boy about him. Unless they counted his job, and that was dangerous but not bad.

  “Hmmm, I get off in a couple of hours, maybe I can help you get off too?”

  Reid smirked, she was upfront and direct, and he liked that in a woman. Someone who knew what she wanted and went for it. “How about you give me your number, and I call you when I’m done here?”

  The hostess licked her lips and then took his hand and wrote the number down the inside of his wrist. With that, she grabbed a menu and led him to his table, putting extra sway in her sexy ass as she did.

  Mitch shook his head, good-naturedly. “Un-fucking-believable. Two minutes and she’s all but sucking your dick when you walk through the door.”

  Mitch, like Liam was a cockney, a proper Peckham boy. He didn’t use as much slang as Liam though, so their conversations were more straightforward. As an ex-SO19 SWAT member, Mitch was an excellent marksman. As the oldest, he was the steady hand of the team. Besides, Jack, that was.
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  The food was terrific, the company was great, and for the first time in months, he felt himself truly relax and let the past few months melt away. They traded banter back and forth as only men that have put their necks on the line for each other could, throwing back the beer and just enjoying themselves.

  He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and took it out to see Clay’s name on the screen. Reid frowned and stood, heading for the door and quiet to take the call. “Clay?”

  “Reid, thank God. I need your help.”

  Instantly, Reid was on alert, every muscle tense waiting for the next words out of his friend’s mouth. “Tell me.”

  “It’s Callie. She’s in trouble, and I can’t get to her.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “She has a stalker, and the fucker got into her house tonight.”

  Reid was already walking towards his friends and teammates. “Shit. Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, her dog Bono scared him off, but she’s really shaken. I would fly out tonight, but I can’t get leave. We have a huge case, and they need a medic on this Op.”

  “Where is she?”

  “London.”

  “You stay put. I’ll drive down now and check on her and help her sort the situation, then call you with an update.”

  “Thanks, Reid.” He heard the relief in his friend’s voice.

  “No, problem. Text me her address and let her know I’m coming straight down.”

  “Of course. And, Reid, don’t take any shit from her. Callie is sweet as sugar, but if she thinks she’s being handled, the girl has a temper.”

  Reid laughed. “I have two sisters of my own, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know, brother.”

  Reid sensed Clay wanted to say more and waited a beat, but Clay remained silent. Clay seemed to be having trouble getting the words out, so he took pity on him and gave him an out. “Listen, let me get off the phone and you can text me the details.” Reid hung up and looked at Jack, who was watching him intently.

  “Trouble?”

  “My friend Clay. His baby sister had some trouble with a stalker. He wants me to go check it out.” The words were half statement, half question.

  “Go. Take Liam and Mitch with you.”

  “That ain’t necessary. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably an ex-boyfriend or something.”

  Jack shook his head. “I’m not risking it. With the threat still undetermined, I don’t want my men with their asses swinging out there. Liam and Mitch go with you.”

  Liam and Mitch were already standing.

  “Thanks, boss.”

  “Friends are family too, and family comes first.” Jack waved them away as he signalled for the bill.

  Mitch sauntered outside towards his car. “I’ll give you a lift home to pick up your vehicle. I have a go-bag in the boot, so I’m set, then we can head to Liam’s to pick up his shit.”

  “Appreciate that, Mitch.”

  Reid glanced at his phone as the address came through from Clay. “Fuck, I don’t know London well, but even I know Kensington,” Reid exclaimed as he got in beside Mitch as Liam climbed in the back.

  “Let me see?” Mitch reached for the phone and blew out a whistle. “Not sure where this girl gets her dough, but she must have a fuck of a lot of it to be living there.” He passed the phone back to Liam as he drove.

  Reid’s phone pinged as a second text came through.

  “Holy shit!”

  Reid turned in his seat and grabbed for the phone. “What?”

  “Think I know how your girl can afford it.”

  Reid looked down at the image of the outrageously beautiful woman on the screen and felt like he’d been gut-punched.

  “That, right there, is Callista Lundholm. The supermodel.”

  Chapter Two

  Callie was curled up on her cream leather sofa with the large Beatles throw blanket her brother had bought her as a housewarming gift over her legs. Bono, her three-year-old Rottweiler was at her side. She’d rescued him after he’d been put out to pasture for not being aggressive enough for the security company, she’d used for one of her first assignments.

  She’d promptly sacked the security company and kept the dog, who was a big teddy bear but protective of her. Thank God she had too. A shiver coursed down her spine at the thought of what could have happened if the lunatic who’d climbed up six floors to her roof terrace had got to her.

  Callie watched as Detective Oliver Brant moved around her penthouse. When she’d moved in less than six months ago, she’d been so excited. It was her first real home of her own, bought with her own money. Now as she looked around at the space, all she saw was possible places where a murderous psycho could hide.

  She’d been in her room reading the latest Romantic Suspense from her new favourite author India Kells, when it happened. Her first instinct when Bono had growled low in his throat had been to shush him, but something about the sound, which she’d never heard before, prompted her not too.

  Her bedroom was downstairs—the layout of the space was upside down with the living space above to take advantage of the roof terrace. Biting back the fear, she’d moved behind Bono and crept up the stairs on tip toes, not daring even to breathe in case she made a sound.

  Seeing the shadow on her terrace had frozen her in place. Terror, a cold band of steal across her throat, stopped her from breathing. By some miracle the phone in her hand had rung, snapping her out of her fear and alerting the intruder to her presence. They had locked eyes for a second, his behind a mask as she froze and dropped the phone. A woof from beside her made her move.

  Grabbing for the phone, she snatched it up as she watched the man turn and jump from the roof terrace. She’d burst into tears at the sound of her brother’s voice, trying and failing to tell him what was happening. The emotional outburst was so out of character for her that Clay had instantly known something was wrong.

  His firm, calm commands for her to breathe and calm down had worked their way through the fog of fear until she was calm enough to explain what had happened. He’d demanded she call the police and then lock herself in the bathroom with Bono until they got there and gave her a code to use as an additional safety measure, and he’d call her back as soon as he’d contacted a friend in Hereford to see if he could help. Before she could protest the last, he’d hung up.

  She’d quickly phoned the police and was now sitting on the lid of the toilet seat. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around them, as Bono sat at her feet while she waited for the police to show or Clay to call her back. Less than ten minutes later the sounds of sirens could be heard. She felt her phone ring in her hand, and almost dropped it on the tile in surprise.

  “Calista Lundholm, this is Detective Brant with the London Met. I’m at your door. Can you please open up?”

  “What’s the code?”

  “Humpty Dumpty.”

  Callie smiled at that. “Hang on.”

  She stood and walked to the door, checking the peephole before opening it. The detective did a quick clinical sweep of her body as she let him in and was followed by a younger man with blond hair. Whereas Brant was playing it cool, pretending he didn’t recognise her, the other Detective was less so and couldn’t hide his excitement. Callie was used to the attention that came with modelling, it was hard to get away from and she usually handled it with grace, but tonight she didn’t have it in her.

  Callie realised she was wearing satin sleep shorts and a thin vest that only covered what it touched as the young man practically salivated in front of her. A sharp look from his superior had him closing his gaping mouth.

  “I’m Detective Brant, this is my colleague Detective Conrad. We had a call from your brother, Special Agent East, about an intruder.”

  “Yes. Can I just grab a robe?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Callie ran downstairs to her room and grabbed a knee length robe when her phone buzzed again, and she picked it
up. “Clay?”

  “Hey, baby girl. How you holding-up?”

  “I’m okay, it just scared me is all.”

  “I know. Listen, Reid’s already on his way down to you.”

  Her stomach flipped at those words. Reid was her brother’s best friend and although they hadn’t really met, she knew all about him. In fact, Kirk Reid had been the subject of more than one of her fantasises over the years.

  The pictures of him had been enough to set her body on fire when her BOB wasn’t getting the job done. She blushed at the thought and ducked her face away from the detectives’ eyes.

  “You didn’t need to call in back-up. I’m a big girl, Clay, and I’ve been travelling for years on my own with this modelling gig. I can handle my own security.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t, but I’m thousands of miles away and you were terrified. Just let me do this, please? Reid can check out the security on your place and the team you have and give me piece of mind.”

  Clay had always known which buttons to push. Knowing he was frightened for her and would worry, which would put his own hide at risk on a dangerous job, was a weakness he knew he could exploit.

  “Fine, but only if you promise to come visit me soon.”

  She heard the smile in his voice as he answered her. “As soon as I finish this case, I’m on a plane.”

  “Okay. And, Clay? Please don’t tell Dad. He already wants me to come back to the States and this will give him more ammunition.”

  “I won’t but you need to tell Reid everything you can about what happened.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good girl. Now, I gotta go. Buy the mutt a steak for me and we’ll talk as soon as I can.”

  “Love you, Clay.”

  “Love you too, button.”

  Callie smiled at the use of his childhood name for her. Saying she was bright like Button Moon, her favourite show as a kid.