Reckless (Benson's Boys Book 1) Read online

  Reckless

  Benson’s Boys Book 1

  Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  Prologue—two weeks earlier

  The Highlands, Scotland

  Dimitri held his gun tightly at his side as he trudged through the snow behind the psychopath who’d hired him. The sound of gunfire rent the night as the residents of the castle fought back. Reynard Durand, his boss on this job, was an idiot. But a dangerous idiot, the kind who was fluent in violence and lacking in empathy.

  Durand’s plan had been simple: go to Scotland, kidnap Claire Donaldson, hand her over to his boss and climb further up the ladder of Abramovich’s skin trade business. To achieve this aim, Durand attacked a bachelorette party. He thought he would waltz in, intimidate the women and waltz out again with Claire under his arm. Idiot. If he’d been watching them for the past week, as Dimitri had been, he would have known that nothing was simple when it came to the women of Invertary.

  He might also have known that Claire had an identical twin.

  Yeah, Durand was that dumb. He’d managed to nab the wrong woman and Dimitri was scrambling for a plan to get her out of this mess. A plan that didn’t involve blowing his cover.

  It was the soap opera finale of fuck ups.

  To prove his point, Megan Donaldson chose that moment to trip and head-butt Durand in his back. Dimitri grabbed her arm and yanked her upright before Durand could lash out. His body tensed, ready to strike if the idiot laid a hand on the woman.

  “Watch it,” Durand snapped. “Keep hold of her. We need to speed up. I have a couple of snowmobiles stashed at the west exit.”

  “What about the others?” Dimitri’s left hand wrapped around Megan’s upper arm. Her silver sweater was way too thin for the icy conditions, but he knew if he shrugged off his jacket and gave it to her, it would set off alarm bells for Durand. Instead he pulled her closer to his body and hoped she took some of his heat.

  “They’re on their own,” Durand snapped. “I don’t get paid enough to save their asses.”

  Dipshit. You never left a man behind. It was a fundamental code of the armed forces. But then Durand had never been in the military. Another strike against the man.

  Dimitri made a show of motioning Megan to move forward and telling her to hurry. It earned him a glare, which even in the middle of this fucked up operation, made him want to grin. He held her tight to keep her upright. Far too aware of her gentle curves. The ones he’d been drooling over since he’d first set eyes on her.

  He needed to come up with a way to get her out of this situation, before it became a whole lot worse. A way that didn’t make Durand suspicious of Dimitri’s allegiance. His mind frantically searched for options. And then it hit him. What if he didn’t get her out of this mess quite yet? What if he let Durand take them straight to his boss? It would be the fastest way for Dimitri to get access to the information he’d gone undercover to get.

  He glanced at Megan. Would she help him? Would she be willing to play hostage until he had what he needed? And would she do it knowing that he didn’t have a plan to get her out of this at the end of it? Sure, he’d come up with something. He always did. But it was still a huge risk for her to take. A risk he was desperate enough to ask her to take—if he could just get a chance to talk to her alone.

  As he reasoned through his plan, he felt Megan’s grip cover his gun hand. Before he could process what was happening, she jerked his hand up, flicked off the safety and pressed his trigger finger down. The gun went off. Durand fell face first into the snow.

  “What the—” Dimitri started.

  He was too stunned to react, which left him vulnerable. That’s why he wasn’t prepared when she turned and kneed him in the balls. Hard. A white light appeared before his eyes and he forgot how to breathe. A low howl escaped his frozen vocal cords as he bent double, holding his poor decimated balls. Through the pain, he vaguely registered that Durand was out cold. Megan grabbed Durand’s automatic weapon and pointed it straight at Dimitri’s head.

  “Drop the gun,” the blonde bombshell ordered.

  Dimitri hesitated. Too long. The sadist kicked him again. Dimitri made a gurgling sound deep in his throat as the gun fell from his grip. A second later he was writhing in the snow, hands cupped to his crotch.

  He looked up to find Megan standing over him. She was an Amazonian warrior. Her blonde hair a bright halo around her head, her cheeks flushed pink and a manic gleam in her blue eyes. She pointed his handgun at his head and smiled.

  Even in agony. Even bested by a Barbie doll. Even though she’d just blown his operation. Even then, part of his brain was applauding her actions and wondering how fast he could get her into bed.

  That’s if his poor, mashed equipment ever worked again.

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  the new London offices of Benson Security

  “Earth to Buffy, come in Buffy.”

  Dimitri Raast grinned when Megan scowled at him. The blonde beauty was easy to wind up. It had become his main hobby since he’d met her in Scotland two weeks earlier. She sat opposite him at the conference room table in the Regency townhouse that was now the new London office of Benson Security. Her long white-blonde hair was in a high ponytail and the striped T-shirt she wore slid off one creamy shoulder. She could have been a model, instead she’d set her sights on becoming a security specialist. Or as she liked to call it, a gun-for-hire. Yeah, her background in baking and doing hair wouldn’t get her far in her new profession. In fact, Dimitri knew for sure that the boss wouldn’t have let her anywhere near his business if they didn’t need her for this operation.

  If Dimitri didn’t need her.

  Her blue eyes narrowed at him. “You do know that calling me Buffy isn’t an insult, right? Buffy was a superhero. She saved the world countless times. She had a fantastic wardrobe and got to bonk sexy vampires.”

  “And she was an airhead.” He bit back a laugh. Megan Donaldson was too much. Really.

  “Have you even watched the show? Do yourself a favour and look it up on Netflix. Get back to me once you know what you’re talking about.”

  “Would you prefer I call you Blondie?” He folded his arms and watched as her gaze lingered on his biceps. Oh yeah, she felt the burn between them too.

  “Blondie was another cutting edge woman. A music pioneer. That isn’t an insult either.”

  “Barbie?”

  “Now you’re pissing me off.”

  Dimitri laughed. Which probably wasn’t smart, as he’d learned the hard way that Megan was unpredictable when she was pissed off. Unpredictable, wicked and violent, with a penchant for hitting men where it hurt most—and grinning while she did it. He shifted in his seat at the thought, trying to free up more space in his jeans. He wasn’t sure if the sudden tightness was due to fear that his crown jewels weren’t safe around the woman, or because her being crazy and violent seemed to press all the right buttons for him.

  Most of the women Dimitri had gotten hot and heavy with over the years were on the Suzy Homemaker end of the spectrum—naive, pretty, predictable and safe. In other words, reliable wife material. Not that he’d been looking for a wife, but if a man was going to fall into that pit, he’d rather it was with someone he knew would make a good family and home life. Yet, none of those women got him worked up the way crazy Megan Donaldson did. Turns out, at the ripe old age of thirty, he’d discovered his type actually lay more towards the wicked and twisted end of the spectrum. Who knew?

  The door to the conference room opened and Joe Barone and Ryan Granger swaggered in. Like Megan, the guys had come down from Benson Security’s main office in the Highlands. Unlike Megan, they were bo
th ex-military and knew what they were doing.

  “Coffee?” Joe said by way of hello.

  Dimitri pointed to the table in the corner of the room where Julia, the office manager, had set up a coffee pot and a plate of Danish pastries. He assumed Joe’s grunt of reply was a thank you. The big Italian-American filled his mug, glugged it down and refilled it before taking his place at the table.

  “Rough night, old man?” Ryan filled his own mug and snagged a plate of pastries. “Can’t keep the pace, eh?”

  Joe stared at the younger Englishman. “Unlike you, I was up most of the night working the case.”

  Ryan shrugged. “Is that supposed to make me feel bad? Yeah, you were working hard, but I’ll take a night of hitting London’s clubs with a lingerie model over being conscientious any day of the week.”

  A growl rumbled from Joe’s chest. Ryan just laughed. The door slammed open and all heads turned to watch Rachel Ford-Talbot make her entrance. She scanned the room with a look of disgust. Her iPhone was in one perfectly manicured hand, her designer handbag was hanging from the crook of her arm and her equally expensive suit was teamed with her usual red-soled pumps. Dimitri was pretty sure someone who gave a shit about fashion would be able to name each of the designers Rachel wore—he wasn’t one of them.

  “This,” she gestured with a red tipped talon, “is the A-team?”

  Ryan pointed a croissant at her. “The A-team is still in Scotland, love. You got saddled with the B-team.”

  “Kill me now,” Rachel muttered as she headed towards the coffee.

  “That can be arranged.” Megan’s tone was pure cat.

  Rachel arched an eyebrow at her. “Tell me again why you’re on the team?” She stirred her coffee. “Without your twin to do your thinking for you, and that awful Goth friend of yours to fight your battles, just what use will you be?”

  Megan made her own little growl. It was more kitten than monster, which didn’t help the menace vibe she was aiming for. “My Goth friend should have kicked your scrawny backside harder when you were in Invertary.”

  Rachel smiled—it made Dimitri shudder. Now there was a woman who knew how to do mean. “Thanks for noticing my backside. It’s my new Pilates regime. I can recommend a divine personal trainer. She’ll help you lose that extra chub you carry in no time at all.”

  Dimitri thought Megan’s head might actually explode. He tensed, ready to jump out of his seat and do some damage control. Or duck. Whatever came first.

  Megan faced off against Rachel. “Just because I don’t think anorexia is a lifestyle choice doesn’t make me fat. You should try eating sometime, it might improve your disposition.”

  Rachel faked a pout. “Well done. I’m so proud. You used words with more than one syllable.”

  Megan sprang to her feet as their new boss entered the room. His hand clamped on her shoulder.

  “This meeting is about to start.” Callum McKay released his hold. “Fight on your own time.”

  “I’m not sure Rachel can confine being a bitch to her off hours.” Megan plopped back into her seat.

  “I said enough.” Callum’s soft Scottish burr rounded out the accents in the room.

  “Aye, aye, captain.” Rachel smirked at him. “We wouldn’t want to undermine your tenuous hold on authority. After all, we know how much a man’s ego is tied to his position.” Her gaze scanned down his body, lingering on his fly. “It would be such a shame to damage your fragile, teeny-tiny ego.”

  Callum stared Rachel down until the two of them were locked in a contest of wills.

  “Should we place bets on who cracks first?” Ryan whispered. “My money’s on Callum.”

  The lights suddenly dimmed and a photo appeared on the wall. Everyone’s eyes shot to the picture.

  “Sorry,” the large potted palm said. “I thought it was time for the slide show.”

  The lights came back up and the image disappeared.

  “Julia?” Megan said, as everyone eyed the plant at the other end of the table from Callum. Sure enough, the office manager was sitting behind it, a laptop balanced on her knees. “Have you been there the whole time?”

  There was some shuffling. “Um, yes,” Julia said softly.

  “I thought we were going to have breakfast together this morning,” Megan said. “I waited for you.”

  Dimitri knew the two women were sharing one of the tiny flats on the top floor of the building. With Megan’s extrovert personality and Julia’s social phobia, he could only imagine how well that was going.

  “Sorry,” the plant said. “I had a lot of work to do, so I came in early.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Callum barked. “I refuse to talk to foliage. Get out from behind the plant.”

  “I can’t. I’m plugged in here. The equipment doesn’t work out there.” Julia’s voice was barely a whisper, making them strain to hear her.

  “You can make it work out here,” Callum snapped. “You’re so bloody efficient you’re making my head spin. Get to the table.”

  The plant shook. “I haven’t had time to wire up the table area. I will for the next meeting. Right now, if you want a PowerPoint, I have to stay here.”

  The tremor in Julia’s voice was pronounced. Callum was on fragile ground. Julia had been adopted by half the team. She was practically the office pet.

  “Leave her alone,” Joe said. “Let her do her job.”

  “She’s hiding behind a plant.” Callum pointed at the plant. “How can she do her job from there?”

  “Have you had any problems with her work since we arrived in London?” Megan asked, although they all knew the answer. Julia could run the country if she tried. Okay, so she’d do it from inside a closet, but she’d still do a great job. “The answer is no. She’s way ahead of schedule with the office renovations. We all have everything we need to work. She’s doing her job great. So what if she’s a little shy? Leave her alone.”

  “A little shy?” Rachel barked a laugh. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “We’ve been working together for over a week and I’ve yet to see her face. That isn’t normal. If I was in charge,” she directed that comment to Callum, “I’d fire her.”

  “Aye,” Callum told the witch. “But you’re not in charge, are you?”

  “Yet.” Rachel gave him a look designed to make his balls shrivel. “You’re not exactly making a great impression as a boss. You can’t even get your secretary out from behind a plant.”

  “Office manager,” Joe, Megan and the plant said at the same time.

  Ryan laughed until he had to wipe his eyes.

  Callum turned his attention back to the potted plant. “Slide show, Julia. And next meeting that damned plant will be gone from the room. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Julia whispered.

  “In fact, I want all of the plants removed from the building. It’s like a bloody jungle in here.”

  In reply the lights dimmed again. A photo of a man filled the wall.

  “This is Rudi Abramovich.” Callum pointed at the photo. “This man has Dimitri’s sister and we’re going to get her back.”

  Dimitri felt his blood turn to ice. This is why he’d joined Benson Security after the fiasco in Scotland. He needed the team’s backing to find his sister. He’d done everything he could on his own, made it as far as he was able, now he needed help.

  Dimitri had never felt hate until he’d come across Rudi Abramovich. He hadn’t realised the emotion burned like acid. He looked at the man who’d ruined his sister’s life. The crime boss could have stepped off the cover of GQ magazine. He was in his early forties and wore it well. His wavy brown hair was professionally styled. His grey suit and open-necked white shirt were tailored to fit his shoulders and make it clear he knew how to use gym equipment. His eyes were contact lens blue, his lips were full like a girl’s and his jaw was sharp like a cartoon character.

  “Who knew evil came in such a pretty package?” Megan said.

  Her approval of the guy�
�s rip-off, George Clooney get-up punched Dimitri in the gut. “There’s nothing attractive about him.”

  Megan blinked before she softened. “Of course not. He’s evil. And has obviously had some plastic surgery. Nobody looks that good naturally.” She leaned across the table to pat his hand. “He’s evil and fake.”

  Dimitri nodded. That was more like it. He lounged back into his chair, twirled a pencil and hoped he hid exactly how much the sight of Rudi affected him.

  “As I was saying,” Callum gritted out, unhappy at the chitchat during his meeting. “This guy has Dimitri’s sister and our mission is to get her back.”

  “Don’t you mean get her back if she’s still alive?” Rachel asked the question as though she was enquiring about the weather.

  The pencil in Dimitri’s grasp snapped in two. So much for keeping his cool. The tension in the room ratcheted up. All eyes were on Dimitri as he carefully placed the two halves of the pencil on the table in front of him. Every muscle in his body felt tight as he fought to control his rage. Slowly, very slowly, he looked up at Rachel.

  “What?” Rachel tossed her glossy auburn hair over her shoulder. “I’m not saying anything that everyone isn’t already thinking. Your sister has been missing for a year. We haven’t heard even a whisper about her whereabouts. She’s most likely dead. I know it. You know it. We all know it.”

  “That’s enough,” Callum snapped.

  Rachel opened her mouth but Callum’s palm slapped the table, so she huffed and closed her mouth.

  Slowly, Callum turned to Dimitri. “Bring us up to speed. We’ve all come into this operation at different stages. Start at the beginning so we’re on the same page.”

  As if by magic, the image on the wall changed and his sister appeared. Dimitri felt his chest clench as pain, sharp as a knife, speared through him. She had long black hair, a pretty smile and hazelnut eyes that were identical to his.

  “My sister.” Dimitri worked to keep his voice devoid of emotion. He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “Katrina Raast. Twenty-five.”