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23
* Lake *
Lake screeched to a halt at the castle gate as the night exploded. The men watched the balls of orange turn to smoke that faded into the blackness of the night.
“Was that the castle?” Josh sounded frantic. “It couldn’t be the castle. Right?”
“Two small vehicles,” Callum said. “Exploding one after the other.”
Lake nodded. He’d heard the same thing. “Get a move on,” he ordered everyone.
The men shook themselves into action and ran towards the flames in the distance. The glow from the burning vehicles clearly lit the exterior of the castle. Progress through the snow was slow, even at a run. Each step felt like a mile.
Gunshots sounded through the night, dulled by the thick stone making up the castle. Someone was in there. Where were the women? What were Joe and Ryan doing?
If he was too late. If Kirsty was hurt. Nothing would stop the havoc he would wreak.
“They’re okay,” Flynn said through the comm units. Whether he was talking to himself or to everyone, Lake wasn’t sure. “They’ve got to be okay. They’re resourceful.”
No one answered. Instead they picked up their pace, desperate to get to the castle.
Smashing glass. More gunfire. Shouting. Screaming.
Lake’s fear compressed down inside of him, refining into pure fury.
“Split,” he ordered, and they broke off into the three groups they’d previously arranged.
Callum and Matt headed to the back of the castle. Josh, Mitch, Harry and Flynn fell back and spread out, eager to pick up any strays Grunt and Lake left in their wake. Lake could have told them they’d be disappointed. No one was getting past him. With one sharp hand signal, Lake motioned for Grunt to move right, while he moved left.
Lake felt his breathing slow, his heart rate lower, his focus distil. There was nothing in his mind but the mission. Only eliminating the threat and securing Kirsty mattered.
Men ran out of the castle, straight to the burning snowmobiles. There were shouts. Cursing, followed by orders to find and eliminate the people who’d blown up their transport. Lake almost smiled. Instead, he crept towards the men, keeping to the shadows.
“I count five,” Lake whispered into his mic.
A short, sharp shot to his right. The unmistakable guttural grunt of a man going down.
“One less now,” Grunt said, his voice crystal clear through the headset Lake wore.
The men in front of him sprang into action. Guns were raised. They ran for cover. Some of them headed back into the castle. He saw the windows of the grand room blow as the men shot blindly into the night.
“Three more back here,” Callum said. “Make that four.”
Lake crept up behind one of the guys. He wrapped his arm around his neck. A minute later he was unconscious in the snow. Lake disarmed him, then secured his arms and legs with cable ties.
“Two less,” he stated calmly into his mic.
Each of the snowmobiles could have held at least two people, maybe three, and Claire had told them there were already three in the castle. That made at least nine, including the captive Megan had secured.
More shots and several grunts. “Three and four,” Grunt said without a trace of emotion.
“Try not to shoot the assholes,” Matt said.
“I didn’t shoot,” Grunt said. “And I didn’t break any necks. These two are secured.”
“Show-off,” Matt said tersely. “More coming round the side of the house.”
“Do we move the unconscious guys, or leave their asses in the snow?” Harry said.
