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…but not for that bastard Eric.
Eric he would kill slowly, painfully. Just as he deserved.
Having dropped some intelligence in the lap of one of Sherry’s last-remaining contacts, Caelan was all-too aware Sherry would consider this a trap. He would too if he were her, and because they were so alike, he knew there’d be some… kind of sting in the tail.
But now he knew Flora would absolutely kill for the bairn, and, Eric would probably kill for her—since she was his only route to Caelan—he felt slightly more at ease, knowing they could handle any assault on the castle.
He’d calculated that the men would come in from the east after flying into Aberdeen. They’d find somewhere to leave their vehicle, probably the low-lying hills nearby so Caelan wouldn’t see their vehicle lights, hear them or have a good view of them before they snuck around a corner.
Pity they wouldn’t know there were a bunch of bogs standing in their way first. Not many people knew about the bogs and their dangers.
The men would have to go around and they’d be brought out into the open valley where on a good, bright night, Caelan would’ve just taken them out cleanly with his rifle from a few hundred yards out.
Nah, that wasn’t going to happen.
This was his arena. He’d make the rules.
He’d have the fun, while all they would receive, was death.
It was 3am before anybody crept into the valley. By this point, Caelan had buried himself in long grass and wildflowers near the edge of the valley floor. Lying on his belly, his night-vision binoculars told him they were wary. They half knew it was a trap, but potentially, the bounty was high enough they’d risk it. Risk him.
Large men, ex-military, maybe American seals or some such people. They carried automatic weapons of the “don’t fuck with me” variety.
They knew who they hunted, but couldn’t resist the temptation—the promise of a share of a million quid or more.
They’d sent six this time. How could she afford it? She’d lost four in Brighton. That would’ve cost her. No hired gun died without someone paying, somewhere. Who was so desperate to have her freed? Which monster held Sherry’s leash and who benefited most from her being let loose into the world once more?
He could only think Rathbone’s stupid fucking visit the weekend of Logan’s birth had caught someone’s attention, somewhere, and it had got back to Sherry somehow. Rathbone, that wily old fox. How could he hate him? He’d sired the greatest woman alive. He could never kill the man, it’d break Flora’s heart. But his pride at a grandchild was costing them now, and the worst thing? While sunning himself with his two younger daughters in Florida, he was probably clueless to the shitstorm he and Flora now faced back here!
Caelan wished he knew what was going on at the castle. Eric favoured the silencer and from half a mile away, he’d never hear a thing.
He’d been glad of the five-star hotel in London while he’d been debriefed. It’d given him chance to recharge his batteries. Who knew when he’d truly sleep again, knowing what he now knew.
The six spread out when what Caelan really needed was for them to cluster. They moved carefully across the land, assessing, seeking. None of them came close to the edge where he was, but they clearly expected him to be here somewhere.
He would have to do this by stealth.
Pick them off, one by one.
Each tree would be used, each rock something to hide behind.
Caelan remained in the shadows as they passed by, heading towards the lit-up castle in the distance. It was him they wanted, him who had the information on Blake’s whereabouts. They would only use their weapons to intimidate. They had their orders to wound but not kill.
There were a few things he considered as he held his nerve and bided his time:
If the aim were to get back at Blake, surely there were other ways, such as old contacts of his who might squeal. People less dangerous than himself. And why now? If Blake had snuck into the country in December, why now? Nearly six months later.Anyway, there was no time to consider any more of this nonsense. They were starting to get away from him and he had far too much fun planned for these men.
Caelan rolled onto his front and wormed along on his belly, diagonally sweeping more into the middle of the valley, the grass getting rather thin as he got closer to the open expanse. It was the trees around the edges that fed the grasses at the perimeter and made those longer.
An owl hooted and they all looked around, so Caelan kept his head down, moved his limbs inwards and waited. In the dark, they didn’t see him, and kept going. Damn owl.
Not helping me, ye damn wee feather sack.
One of them was lagging behind the others slightly.
First one to pick off.
Caelan reached for his weapon and aimed for the man’s thigh, his intent to skim it. He’d fall down and he’d hurt, but he’d live. He needed at least one of them to live.
