Page 10 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

In which Catriona wrestles with her conscience, or discomfiting lack thereof.

Catriona…

In the lab, the third day of confinement…

There’s something wrong with me.

Dubois’ project is fecking genius.

This has me questioning my own sanity.

He’s been eager to show me every step of crafting this new poison and constantly looks for my reaction.

“So, ye added in the dimethyl sulfoxide to make this a contact poison as well? That’s brilliant. Three different methods for absorption.” I’m complimenting this bastard?

Though really. The chemical composition of C-1161 is elegant. A thing of beauty to any researcher.

Aside from the fact it will be used to murder people .

His face lights up with a rapturous grin. “I knew you would understand! You are si beau, mon amour, so beautiful.”

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes, though he catches it.

“Ah, you are used to those words from men, oui?” He gestures at my breasts.

“These are si beau , of course, and your face, un chef-d'?uvre, a masterpiece. But this?” He walks closer, lightly tapping my forehead, “This is la vraie beauté , your true beauty.” He winks at me and strolls out of the lab, whistling.

Damn him.

However flattering it is to be admired for my mind, and not my tits or my family’s fortune and power, this is still a madman prepared to kill hundreds, thousands, I dinnae, a continent of people to get what he wants. And this new poison is the key.

I’ve accepted that I must create the antidote.

Hugo’s given me free run of the lab and his records, so I have the advantage of going through all his attempts to put it together.

I’m already moving faster than he did and the process is exhilarating- though every time my spirits rise, I remember what I’m doing here and my heart hurts again.

Most of my day not spent on working on the antidote is devoted to stealing and downloading as much of the information about C-1161 as I can.

Fortunately, the poison and the antidote’s research is so closely linked that it dinnae look suspicious if I’m at the computer going through the C-1161 files.

Downloading it onto a flash drive is tricker.

There are internal alarms, I’m sure, that would notify Dubois if I were uploading or downloading anything.

Getting through the security software is time-consuming and infuriating as feck.

If my family - I mean, when my family blows this place to hell and rescues me, I can finish the antidote at home. I’m not daft enough to think Hugo hasn’t already compounded the poison and dinnae have it stashed in a dozen places.

A gloomy édouard enters the lab mid-afternoon. “You must be starving, Mademoiselle, perhaps a break for lunch?”

Accepting the tray of olive tapenade, cheese, and figs from him, I eye his drooping shoulders. He is clearly deep in a state of exhausted disappointment in his fellow man.

“Still dedicated to supporting your bosses’ dream of poisoning countless innocents, then?” My sharp tone seems to pain him.

“I know my duty,” he says. Looking at my crowded lab table, he sighs. “And you know yours, I see.”

“Well-played, édouard. Well-played.” I have to applaud him. With that wee, snippy comeback, he absents himself quickly and gracefully from the room.

I’ve searched the surrounding countryside from every window in this lab, in my suite, from the dining room and every hall I’m allowed to wander, and I canna find a break in Hugo’s security.

The pattern changes every six hours. Drones buzz overhead twenty-four hours a day.

I can see all the signs of a perimeter defense, everything from tripwires to explosives to early detection warnings.

They nearly shot and killed one poor soul who was just delivering foodstuffs.

The tapenade turns sour in my mouth. I must create this antidote. But I know that once I do, Hugo is likely to kill me, or worse, keep me forever as a slave for his research.

You’re forgetting that he’s not the only one capable of creating deadly compounds, no-nonsense Cat reminds me. I’ll find a way to get myself out of here, and when I do, it will be over Hugo Dubois’ dead body.

I grin.

I get back to work .

Lucas…

I’m watching the guard rotation through my thermal imaging scope. Ryan regretfully messaged me that with only twelve hours’ time, he couldn’t find a pattern in the guard’s patrol. So there won’t be an opening there.

“The MacTavish guards are in the northeast quadrant.” Morris steps up next to me.

“Raul’s taking the high point with Dean, the drone operator.

He wants to be sure he’s got a good transmission point to trigger the explosives.

Armstrong and Clark are at the west gate.

You, me and the Robertson brothers will go through the tunnel. ”

“Ye dinnae need to be in the tunnel with me,” I say. “Swap with Armstrong, aye?”

He shakes his head, staring at the castle. “Our positions are set, mate. We get in and out with your MacTavish, nice and clean.”

I slap him on the back. “Thank ye.”

“I’m not doing it for you , you arse. I’m doing it for that five-million-pound bonus.”

“Fair enough.” I strap on my bulletproof vest and my guns. Adjusting my headset, I listen for everyone to count off. “It’s a pleasure doing battle with ye, gentlemen. Count us down, Raul.”

“Three, two, one…”

Two massive explosions white out my vision for a moment as two towers surrounding the castle perimeter explode. Then hellfire rains down from Dean’s drones, strafing the guards in the courtyard with bullets.

I surge from my concealment and race for the tunnel door. It’s at the north end of the castle and the iron doors smash open with a quick round of bullets.

“Headlights on,” I say, sweeping my flashlight beam up and down.

Morris groans into his headset at the low stone ceiling, dripping with moisture, even in this climate.

“The left turn into the wine cellar should be in thirty meters, stay sharp.” I lead the team and Morris covers the back, turning constantly to check behind us.

I can hear the dull thud of hundreds of bullets being fired and two more explosions, muffled underground but powerful enough to make the stone floor shake.

“Fuck, I hate those guys,” Morris groans into my headset.

“The explosions are on the perimeter,” I say, “the tunnel is stable.”

Our boots echo hollowly through the tunnel and we’re almost at the turn, almost there when the shot rings out behind us and then a roar of return fire .

Morris is on the ground, bleeding from his mouth and still firing at the one bastard lucky enough to find us but unlucky enough to get turned into bloody Swiss cheese.

“Feck! Morris is down!”

One of the Robertson brothers, Alex, is our medic and he shoves me aside, racing for Morris, whose rifle has dropped from his limp hand. By the time we reach him, he’s shuddering his last breath, eyes gone lifeless.

“Morris, shite, dinnae do this,” I groan, putting my hands over a gaping chest wound, right over his heart.

“Lucas, he’s gone, I’m sorry,” Alex says urgently, his hands still running over our friend as if he could will him back to life. “We gotta go.”

Dropping my forehead to Morris’s, I whisper my goodbye. “Take him out of here.”

“What?”

Glaring at Alex I repeat, “Get him out, away from here.”

Helpless, he looks at his brother Kyle, who grimly nods. “Go. We got this.”

Gently hefting Morris’ body over his shoulder, Alex breaks into a jog, heading for the exit.

The shouts are garbled in my headset .

“Lost transmission with the MacTavishes,” Raul shouts.

“...Armstrong… he’s…”

“...shooting my drones out of the sky… down to thr-” Dean’s transmission drops.

Kicking the door open into the wine cellar, I race through, followed by Kyle. There’s cracks spidering through the ceiling that widen ominously as another explosion rocks this part of the castle. I can hear footsteps upstairs, racing in all directions, frantic shouting.

Dubois’ people are even worse off than my team is, and they outnumber us ten to one.

Sliding into one of the servant’s halls, I face Kyle. “We split up here. Ye take the east wing. Most of the bedrooms are located there, but start with the panic room by the master bedroom. I’m going up to the third floor and checking the labs. Go!”

He’s a good man, grim and like me, a bit in shock from losing Morris so cruelly, but he’s off like a shot. The air is thick with dust and gunpowder, but any footsteps I hear are running away from my location. Checking my readout, I find the back stairs and take them three at a time.

The lab takes over half this level of the castle, and there’s six different rooms, glass-paneled and filled with gleaming equipment. Most of the rooms are dark at this hour but there’s a glow from the last one on the left, maybe a monitor left on.

Or maybe it’s Cat.

It takes precious seconds to disable the lock and as I slam it open, I see her.

My Cat. Crouched on the floor next to a complicated computer setup, clutching a flash drive and staring up at me, eyes wide with shock.

“Lucas…” it comes from her like a whisper, like a prayer.