Rage Read online

  “I’m not pregnant!” Isobel shouted.

  “Mum?”

  Callum and Isobel spun towards the voice. There was a teenage boy standing on the other side of the gate, and he had Isobel’s eyes.

  Isobel made a strangled little mewl of pain, jerked her arm from Callum’s hold and rushed towards her son. She held her hands out in front of her, as though it would calm the beast that was obviously rearing inside the boy.

  “I can explain,” she said.

  The boy’s eyes stayed firmly fixed on Callum. He didn’t flinch, even though Callum had a few inches of height on him, and a whole lot more muscle. The teen was at that difficult stage where his body had grown, but hadn’t yet bulked out to take on the form of a man.

  “Seems to me you’re not the one that needs to explain,” the boy said evenly to his mother, gaining Callum’s respect. He kept his eyes on Callum. “Who are you, and what are you doing with my mum?”

  Callum didn’t look away. He stared the boy down, giving him the respect of treating him like an adult. “That’s between your mother and me.”

  The boy’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched. He didn’t like that answer at all. But he kept hold of his temper, and Callum’s respect went up another notch. The boy had the potential to turn into a fine man.

  Isobel was through the gate and was practically running to get to her son. “Come with me.” She grabbed his arms and turned him towards the house. “I’ll explain everything.” She looked over her shoulder at Callum. “I’ll see you down on the beach.” She turned back, giving her full attention to her son.

  But the boy wasn’t done with Callum. His eyes held a message. He planned on talking to the man who was messing with his mother. Callum inclined his head in agreement. He’d be waiting for a visit.

  Callum watched until the pair disappeared into the house before he turned back to the cliff path. It was steep and uneven, strewn with rocks and clumps of razor grass. It was exactly the kind of path he’d have run down years earlier, without giving it a second thought. Now he hesitated.

  His new prosthetic legs were top-of-the-line, with articulated knee and ankle joints, and a computer that kept everything functioning properly. He could walk up and down steps, one leg in front of the other—an impossibility with most other prosthetics. He could stride over uneven surfaces and even swim wearing the damn things. For all intents and purposes, they were as close to having flesh-and-blood legs as he would ever get. But he still couldn’t run down the path to the beach. He’d have to go down steadily, careful to place his feet in the right spots, otherwise he would have a repeat of his experience in Peru—where he’d lost a prosthetic when he’d slipped off a boulder and got his leg jammed in a crack.

  Rage simmered, and he fought to contain it. There was no getting past the fact he wasn’t the man he used to be. He couldn’t do the things he used to do. And he needed to face that truth. He’d tried pretending that nothing had changed, that he was capable of everything he’d done when he still had his legs. All that had happened was he’d been proven wrong in a situation that could have resulted in everyone around him being killed.

  He was glad Isobel wasn’t with him as he started down the path. Glad she didn’t see him work his way to the beach with the care an octogenarian would take. Part of him was shamed that he’d had sex with the woman and she didn’t even know he was half a man. The rest of him was glad that his secret was safe. Right now, Isobel looked at him as though he was the man he used to be. She looked at him as though he was able to do everything she thought he could do. She didn’t look at him like he was an invalid. There was no pity in her eyes. And Callum planned to do everything within his power to keep it that way.

  CHAPTER 8

  “YOU SAID YOU WERE DONE with men,” Jack said as soon as Isobel had led him into their kitchen.

  His fists were clenched at his sides and his brow was furrowed, making his peridot-coloured eyes seem even more luminous than usual. In that moment, he looked so like his father at the same age that it made Isobel’s heart hurt. Darren had missed out on knowing his wonderful son. He’d missed out in a big way.

  “I am through with men,” Isobel said as calmly as she could, considering she was a basket case on the inside.

  Jack smirked. “Right. That’s why he’s talking about you being pregnant.”

  “I am not pregnant.” She mentally crossed her fingers and hoped. “And I really don’t want to talk about my sex life with my son.”

  He turned green and held up a hand. “Never use that word.”

  “How do you think a woman gets pregnant?” Isobel suddenly felt faint. “Please tell me you know how babies are made?” It wasn’t as though the conversation had ever come up, something Isobel had been incredibly grateful for, and she’d assumed Jack had found out at school. The same way she’d found out about the birds and the bees. There had been absolutely no chance her parents would have given her the information. Isobel’s mother still insisted that she bought her four children at the local department store. Apparently Mairi had been on sale.

  “I know what sex is.” Jack looked disgusted. “I just don’t want to think about you doing it.”

  “Good.” Isobel sank into a kitchen chair. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  “How am I supposed to do that when you’ve got the local nut job shouting about you having his kid? Don’t you know about condoms?”

  “Jack!” Isobel felt her cheeks burn and fought the urge to run. Jack would follow her anyway. There was no hiding from your kids when they wanted to know something. A fact she was reminded of every time she wanted to go to the toilet alone and her three-year-old followed her in.

  “Who is this guy? What’s his deal? Have you been seeing him? How long? And when? You’re always here, or at the shop. When did you have time for a guy?”

  Isobel could practically see his brain working. She tried to change the topic. “Why aren’t you at school?”

  “Half day. I told you this morning. Are you going to marry this guy? They talk about him at school. Laugh about him. Everybody knows he’s brain-damaged from the war.”

  “He isn’t brain-damaged!” Isobel was more outraged on Callum’s behalf than she was about her son thinking she’d jump into another marriage. Hell, she was still suffering from the last one. “I think he has PTSD.”

  He frowned.

  “Post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s when you have mental health problems after you experience something awful, like war.” In truth, she had no idea why Callum was living like a hermit in Nowhere, Scotland. All she knew for certain was that he’d been in the armed forces. And that he had muscles and he knew how to use them. Her cheeks heated again.

  “Oh, sick, you’re thinking about him!” Jack pulled open the food cupboard and came out with a family-sized bag of crisps.

  Isobel made a mental note to get more snacks. She was always making mental notes to get more snacks. Jack ate enough for ten people, and she could barely keep up. Where he put it all, she didn’t know. He’d stretched up the past year, towering over her now, but he was still pretty much skin and bone. Sometimes it stole her breath just thinking that she had a sixteen-year-old son.

  “I don’t want to talk about Callum.” Isobel used her eldest-sister voice, which didn’t seem to work as well on her son. “I’m an adult and have a right to a private life.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, right. Can we talk about the freezer in the garage instead? Why’s it suddenly got a padlock on it?”

  Isobel groaned and rubbed her temples. She needed aspirin. Lots and lots of it.

  “Does it have anything to do with the guys who visit the beach at night?” Jack studied her and didn’t miss her shock.

  “What do you know about that?” She’d done her best to shelter him from the things she had to deal with—the boat people, the loan shark, the money problems. Her face hurt from faking a smile twenty-four hours a day.

  “First, you asked me to get rid of a strange
bag and not look in it. I looked. Of course I looked. Seriously, mum, did you really think I wouldn’t?”

  “Yes. I really thought my son would do what he was told!”

  He gave her a pitying look as though she was sorely deluded. “Secondly, I’m a teenager. We don’t sleep at night. I see you sneak out. I know you’re watching the cove.” He stilled. “Unless you’re meeting the weirdo down there.”

  “What? No! I barely know Callum. I’m not sneaking out at night to meet him. And don’t call him a weirdo.”

  “How come you’re having his baby if you don’t see the guy?”

  “I am not pregnant!”

  “I can hear you halfway down the street,” Mairi said as she came into the kitchen carrying Sophie. There was chocolate all around the three-year-old’s mouth.

  “Where’s m–” Jack started.

  “Here.” Mairi smacked a paper bag against his chest. “Bottomless pit. That’s what you have instead of a stomach.” She put Sophie down, and she ran straight at Isobel.

  “I’s had a choccy doughnut!” Her grin melted Isobel’s heart as she wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “So I see.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Why don’t you go watch Mickey Mouse in the other room? Jack can put the TV on for you.” She grabbed a cloth and wiped her daughter’s face.

  Jack had already demolished his donut and, unlike his sister, there was no evidence around his mouth.

  “Whatever.” Jack held his hand out for his sister. “But I’m coming straight back. Come on, Soph.”

  Sophie took his hand and chattered all about her day as they headed into the living room.

  “How can you be pregnant?” Mairi asked as soon as they were gone. “You don’t have a life. You don’t know any men. Unless…” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you sleep with the Arness Outlaw to get him to help us?”

  “No!” Isobel was seriously beginning to think that everyone she knew had a very low opinion of her.

  “Then why does the kid think you’re pregnant?” Mairi filled the kettle and switched it on.

  “Because,” Jack said as he strode back into the room, looking far older than his sixteen years, “the local weirdo was shouting it from the cliffs, while he had his hands all over her.”

  “No way.” Mairi’s eyes were wide. “You did sleep with him for help.”

  “No!” This was getting totally out of Isobel’s control.

  “Did you or did you not have sex with Callum McKay?”

  Isobel could feel her face heat. She looked pointedly at Jack, trying to tell her sister by telepathy that she was not going to answer questions about Callum in front of her son. She was fairly certain Mairi didn’t get the message.

  “Mum doesn’t think you should talk about this in front of me,” Jack told Mairi. His lips quirked as though he was fighting a smile. “She just asked me if I knew how babies were made.”

  Mairi burst out laughing, which made Jack grin and Isobel groan. With only nine years between the two of them, Mairi and Jack acted more like brother and sister than aunt and nephew.

  “Go to your room,” Isobel ordered, which made the two of them laugh harder.

  “So what’s in the freezer?” Jack asked Mairi, changing the topic away from Callum, but picking something else Isobel didn’t want him to know about.

  “Dead body.” Mairi reached for the teapot as Isobel gasped. “We found him on the beach this morning and needed some advice on what to do with him. That’s why she slept with the outlaw.”

  “Mairi! You can’t tell him about the body. He’s a kid.”

  The two of them shared a look again. One that clearly said Isobel was woefully out of touch.

  “At his age, you were alone with a baby,” Mairi said. “He’s hardly a kid.”

  “That’s why I want him to have a childhood and not worry about adult things.” Isobel knew only too well what it felt like to be sixteen and woefully ill-equipped for adult life.

  “You mean like the guy who comes around asking for money?” Jack pinned her down with a condemning stare.

  “How do you know about that?” And yes, she sounded hysterical.

  “Mum, you’re rubbish at sneaking around. I saw you talking to him behind the shop a few weeks ago. Him and that pumped-up steroid freak he’s got protecting him. What is he?”

  “The steroid freak?” Mairi said. “No idea, but I’m leaning towards him being a genetic experiment between a hippo and a gorilla.”

  “Helpful,” Jack said before looking back at Isobel, “but I mean the guy in charge. Who is he and what does he want with you?”

  “He’s a man that Robert owes some money to, that’s all. H-he was j-just here asking where R-robert might be.” Damn that stutter.

  Jack shook his head at her, clearly disgusted. Isobel wasn’t sure if it was with the situation or her lack of ability to lie. He turned to Mairi. “What’s the real story?”

  “Loan shark.” Mairi was texting at the same time as following the conversation. “She’s paying off Rob’s debt.”

  “Do you even understand the concept of secrecy?” Isobel asked. Mairi shrugged it off.

  “Why didn’t you tell him to get lost? Or call the cops on him?” Jack was outraged again.

  Isobel wasn’t about to explain that Eddie Granger had threatened her family if she did just that. The loan shark had friends who were willing to hurt Isobel’s sisters and kids if she didn’t comply. And not for one second did Isobel doubt that he would carry out his threat.

  “That’s what we said.” Mairi held out her phone, pouted and took a selfie. “Rajesh has upped his demand for selfies. I need more clothes. The guys don’t like it when I post the same photo for each of them.”

  Jack frowned. “Let them whine. Bunch of losers have to pay for a pretend girlfriend, they have no right to complain.”

  “Thanks,” Mairi said drolly. “That’s helpful. I’ll tell them that next time I email. I’m sure that will increase my income.”

  “Welcome.” Jack nodded. “Now, you want to tell me why there’s a dead body in the garage and why this Callum guy thinks you’re up the duff?”

  “No. I don’t.” Isobel stood. “Forget about the body. We’re dealing with it. You just concentrate on school.” She pointed at her sister. “You watch the kids. And by watch them, I mean make sure Jack stays in the house with you. I need to go down to the beach and show Callum where we found the body, and I can’t deal with your version of the inquisition while I’m doing it.”

  “You can’t ignore me,” Jack said. “I have the right to know if I have another brother or sister coming.”

  Isobel groaned and strode past them.

  “Why aren’t you more freaked out about the body?” she heard Mairi say behind her.

  “Grand Theft Auto,” Jack said.

  “Oh man, you better hope your mum doesn’t find out you play that game,” Mairi said.

  And Isobel made a mental note to confiscate her son’s Xbox.

  Callum didn’t need Isobel to show him where she’d found the body—a trail of vomit led right to the spot. The tide had started to come in, and waves were lapping at the rocks and sand, which meant the spot where the body had lain had already been washed away. All Callum could make out were the footprints leading up to the water’s edge.

  Most were small and had obviously been made by the Sinclair sisters, but he could still make out at least one set of prints that came from larger boots. A few feet from the edge of the water, where the body would have lain, was another large indentation. Something had been placed on the ground. Which meant there had to have been at least two men on the beach the night before, and one of them had been carrying something other than the body. Something large and heavy.

  It didn’t make sense. Why dump a man out in the open like that? Especially one that had obviously been murdered. The killers couldn’t have known who would find it, or what they would do when they did.

  “Have you found anything?” Isobel ask
ed as she came up beside him.

  Callum had heard her coming down the path, long before he could see her. Silent she wasn’t. He glanced at her flushed face, noting that her hair tie was long gone and her hair was flying about her face. It was long, past her shoulders, and tousled from the breeze. She looked as though she’d been thoroughly tumbled. Callum cleared his throat and wrestled his thoughts back under control. He pointed at the large oval indention in the sand. Something about the mark, with the boot prints beside it, was familiar to him.

  “What is it?” Isobel said.

  “Tell me what you see.” His voice was still husky, carrying a sexual note that he couldn’t hide.

  She bit her bottom lip, and her lashes lowered. Beautiful. She was beautiful. And a complication he really didn’t need.

  “I see the spot where someone stood and put their bag down,” she said.

  Callum stilled as recognition became crystal clear. He was looking at the familiar soles of military-issue boots, and the mark left behind by a heavy duffel bag. A long, heavy bag. A body-shaped bag.

  “Are you sure it was a body you saw them carry from the boat?”

  She bit at her bottom lip as she thought about it. “No. I saw a long, body-like shape over someone’s shoulder. And then I found a body. Two and two make four, right?”

  “How many men got off the boat?”

  “Two, if you don’t count the body.”