The B-Team (Benson Security)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

To Harris MacDonald’s surprise, after questioning him, they didn’t return him to the cell he’d shared with his brother Logan. Instead, they put him in with a man who looked like he could crush an SUV with one fist.

Harris was tall, sitting just over six feet, but this guy was easily a head taller. And at least three times wider. All of it muscle, as far as he could tell.

“Are you with Benson Security?” Harris asked as he leaned against the wall nearest the door. It was either that or sitting on the toilet because he didn’t want to climb up onto the platform with Gigantor.

The giant grunted, his expression remaining completely blank.

Helpful.

“Was that a yes grunt or a no grunt?” Harris asked.

This time, the giant raised an eyebrow and grunted. Equally helpful.

“Okay, let’s try this. If you’re Benson Security, grunt once.”

The giant opened his mouth. “I’m based in the Scottish office. Name’s Grunt.” His voice was a roll of thunder. One with an American accent.

“Wait.” Harris pointed at him. “You’re Noah’s friend. You missed his wedding, dude.” He’d remember the Hulk if he’d been there.

Grunt just cocked his head.

Harris took that as an inquiry about how it went. “It was a good day. Sun was shining. Bride wore white. Abasi cried… just kidding. Your other mates were there—Joe, Beast, and Harvard.”

Grunt gave him a chin lift.

“The wedding was on the roof of Annabelle’s building, but you probably know that.”

Again, the head incline. Harris took that as agreement. “Honeymoon was a bit weird. Everybody else left, and Noah and Annabelle stayed home for two weeks. Annabelle has agoraphobia, which means there was no chance she’d honeymoon at the beach, so my brothers and I put up posters for her. We got them from a travel agent. Did you know they still have travel agents in this day and age? I thought everybody booked stuff on the internet because that’s what I do. Guess old people want to talk to a person behind a desk.” He stared at Grunt, trying to figure out his age. He couldn’t tell. “Are you pre-internet or post-internet?”

A low rumbling came from the giant.

“I’ll go with post.” Harris sauntered over to the bench platform and sat at the other end from Grunt. “My mum’s train should have been here by now, but it broke down. She’s stuck in the middle of nowhere between here and Scotland and says they’re bringing in buses for the rest of the trip. Who knows how long that will take. She’s a lawyer and was going to represent me. Instead, I had one of the Benson Security ones. They’re okay, but not as good as my mum. Have the cops talked to you yet?”

Grunt shook his head once.

“Are you going to answer them if they do? Because, seriously, my man, they expect actual words in the interview room. Just saying.”

Grunt just stared at him.

“Anyway,” Harris said. “What’s the deal with this commander guy? I thought Benson Security worked with the government, so why is he calling us terrorists? Am I missing something here?”

Grunt grunted, and Harris took that as an affirmative.

“That figures. Feels like I’m always missing something. I think it’s a generational thing. You older guys seem to have your own language. My brothers and I don’t have a clue what’s going on half the time. Although”—he grinned, pleased with himself—“I did have a few minutes alone with a very fine constable on the way here. Her name’s Sandy, same as her hair color. She told me that the commander has everyone looking for stuff on Lake. Says he only cares about putting Lake behind bars and anything anyone finds on the rest of us is leverage.”

Grunt just stared at him.

Harris shrugged. “People talk to me. Not you, obviously, but other people. Some even consider me charming.” He smiled at his cellmate. There was no response. Whatever. “Sandy said the commander’s been taking these hushed phone calls and that there’s pressure on him to get the job done. Sounds to me like somebody else might be pulling his strings. Any idea who?”

Grunt shook his head, but he looked thoughtful.

“Sandy said she’ll ask around and see if she can find out more,” Harris said. “She’s pulling a double shift, which means she’s on dinner duty. So we’ll see her when she comes with the food. I asked her to eat with me. Maybe you could pretend to be invisible if it looks like she’s got a few minutes to spare, huh? When I made this plan, I figured I’d be sharing a cell with Logan, and the whole identical brothers thing really does it for some women. Not that we’re into sharing, you understand. But curiosity can make a girl talk. You know what I mean?”

Grunt stared.

Harris nodded. “You know what I mean.”

Grunt grunted. It sounded like a groan.

As Harris watched, the mountain got to his feet, strode to the door, and pressed the buzzer.

“You going somewhere?” Harris asked.

To his surprise, Grunt answered. “Need to call my wife.”

“Wait,” Harris said. “Didn’t you use your phone call to talk to a lawyer?”

Grunt cocked an eyebrow.

“Duh,” Harris said. “You knew the lawyers were already being called, so you sat on your one phone call. Smart. I wish I’d done that. I suspect me and my brothers all used our calls to talk to our mum, which is a waste of two calls because we were just repeating the same info. Next time we’re arrested, we’ll be more organized. We’ll designate one person to call Mum, and the rest will call other useful people. Although, that wouldn’t have worked this time because all the useful people we know are in here.”

There was the sound of a key in the lock, and the door swung open to reveal a young police officer dwarfed by Grunt’s size. The man visibly swallowed.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, looking up, up, up at Grunt.

“I need to make a call,” Grunt rumbled.

The cop stepped aside and gestured for Grunt to go ahead of him.

As he left their cell, Harris called after him, “I can smell food. Dinner’s coming. See if you can stretch out that call while I have some alone time with you-know-who.”

A grunt sounded from the corridor just as the cell door closed, and Harris wondered if the man spoke to his wife in actual words or used some sort of grunted morse code.

Claire’s phone rang, and a glance at the screen told her the number was withheld. Around her, everyone was on a laptop or some other device, going through the Benson Security files to see if something about Commander Fitzwater would pop out. It was tedious work.

“You going to answer that?” Isobel asked.

“It’s a withheld number,” Claire said. “Probably some telemarketer.”

“You should answer anyway, just to be sure.”

With reluctant agreement, Claire answered the call. “Hello?”

“Baby,” a voice rumbled, sending waves of warmth through her body.

“Samuel,” she breathed as her eyes closed against tears of relief. It was absolutely the right decision to answer the call. Just hearing her husband’s voice eased some of the anxiety that had wrapped around her heart, growing tighter with each passing hour.

Sure, she could put on a brave face with the best of them, telling everyone that she knew Grunt would be fine, but he was still the father of her children and the owner of her heart, and the thought of him being taken away from her was almost paralyzing.

“Are you coming home?” She mouthed, “Grunt,” in response to Isobel’s questioning look before hurrying from the room.

“Not yet,” Samuel grumbled. “Still waiting to be interviewed. Things are taking a bit longer than they planned and my interview was shifted to tomorrow. How are you holding up?” His voice deepened. “I’m worried about you.”

That was her man, always thinking of her. To the rest of the world, he was a monosyllabic mountain who terrified the life out of almost everyone he met. To her, he was Samuel: doting father, wonderful husband, and massive teddy bear.

“I’m okay. I’m with the rest of the gang at Julia’s house. We’re going through the Benson Security server to see what this Fitzwater guy might be interested in. We think that’s what this is all about—keeping our tech people out of action so he can access our server.”

“Not possible,” he said. “Elle’s ensured our server is locked up tight.”

Claire waved a hand as she walked along the hallway to the conservatory. “Apparently, the cops made a deal with the secure storage place to get access to another server. Julia thinks Fitzwater’s using their physical access to the facility to hack our server.”

He fell silent, mulling over that information. She could almost see his brows furrow as he thought, making the scar curving from his hairline to his temple more prominent and drawing attention to his crooked nose. Nobody could call Samuel handsome, but to Claire, he was the sexiest man alive.

“Okay,” he said at last. “I can see how that might work. What do you think he’s looking for?”

“We don’t know, and there’s a lot of information stored on that server. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack when you’ve no idea what a needle looks like.”

Twilight had settled over the garden, bleaching the colors to shades of gray. Claire sat in one of the white-cushioned chairs and stared out into the dimming light.

“Not sure if this helps, but word is that somebody’s putting pressure on the commander to get the job done,” Samuel said. “He’s taking secret phone calls that are making him twitchy. Might be that somebody much more powerful is pulling his strings.”

“Is there anybody out there who doesn’t hold a grudge against Benson Security?”

He snorted. It sounded amused.

Claire swallowed hard. “They are going to release you, aren’t they? You haven’t done anything wrong. None of you has. Well, except maybe the hackers. And Rachel. She’s probably pissed off half of London, and they’ll all have an axe to grind.”

“I don’t know what’s happening, babe,” he said. “But the lawyers are good. Gotta trust the process.”

“I don’t want to trust the process!” Claire flopped back in her chair. “There’s a lunatic with his own agenda running the process. Nobody’s safe.”

Samuel made the same low, soothing sound she’d often heard him make while cradling their babies to sleep. “It’s gonna be okay. We have a lot of smart people on our side, ones with a boatload of serious connections. This investigation won’t get far.”

“They’re talking about holding people for two weeks while they investigate terrorism charges,” she said. “You and I both know that if they dig deep enough, they’ll find plenty of situations where Benson Security has flouted the law. It wouldn’t take much to twist some of that into evidence of terrorism. For goodness’ sake, Elle’s hacked everywhere!”

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured.

She scrunched her eyes shut. “I just want you out of there. I want you back with me. You’re mine, and nobody has a right to take you away.”

“Damn straight I’m yours,” he said with fierce conviction. “Have you spoken to the kids yet?”

“No.” She sighed. “What am I going to say when they ask to speak to you?”

“Tell them the truth. Tell them that Dad’s helping the police with an investigation, and he’ll call when he’s done. Then tell them not to harass Flynn’s animals.”

Claire smiled as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “They’ve already been trying to ride the alpacas.”

“Better that than the ostriches,” he said drolly, making her laugh.

“Speaking of Flynn.” She took a deep breath. “We asked Katy to dig around online and see if she could find anything on this Fitzwater guy.”

“Babe,” was all he said, but it was full of disapproval.

“We specifically told her not to hack anything,” Claire quickly added.

“Babe,” he said again, this time in a disbelieving tone. It was truly amazing how much that man could communicate with just one word—or grunt.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “But all the hackers we know are behind bars. What else were we supposed to do?”

“Between the alpacas and recruiting Katy, Flynn and Abby will never babysit our kids ever again,” he said.

He wasn’t wrong.

“I’ve gotta go,” Samuel said. “Try not to worry, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. I don’t suppose you have any idea how Megan’s doing?”

“Nope. We’re all in different holding cells, but your sister can take care of herself.”

“Everybody keeps telling me that you can all take care of yourselves, but what about the rest of us? We’re here, worrying about all of you, and none of us can take care of ourselves! Well, except Harvard… and Beast,” she conceded.

“Not Ryan?” There was amusement in his voice.

“Please.” She rolled her eyes.

“They’re telling me my time’s up,” he said, making her grip the phone tighter.

“Come home soon,” she whispered.

“I love you,” was the reply.

“I love you too,” she said, and the line went dead.

For some reason, it felt like he’d been taken from her all over again.

She sat in the darkened glass room, looking out over the garden. Fear was a cornered tiger, crouching in her stomach, ready to strike at any moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this helpless. The people she loved were at the mercy of the system now, and sometimes, the system didn’t work properly.

“Bring him home to me,” she prayed. “Bring them all home.”

Then, feeling far too weary for her years, she climbed out of the comfy chair and headed back to the others to pass on the information Samuel had shared.

She hoped it would help.