Page 9 of Reset

“No, I want you to mobilize the team. Something’s wrong.”

Okay, that made Callum sit up and pay attention. “How long has he been missing?”

“Nobody’s seen or heard from him since his weekly checkup with the neurologist this morning.” A former US Army Ranger, Joe wasn’t prone to overreacting. To see him this worried was a serious concern.

“You’ve talked with his grandparents?”

They’d made the mistake of hiring Ryan’s granddad and granduncle to do some carpentry around the place when the London office first opened. The two old men hadn’t left yet. They thought it was entertaining to spend their days inventing odd jobs so they could eavesdrop on new cases or “train” with the weapons in the workout room. Right now, they were installing closets in Callum’s house, which sat at the back of the Benson Security property.

“I felt them out—didn’t want to worry them. They haven’t heard from him either.” Joe put his foot down, sat forward, and ran a hand through the thick dark hair that was a hallmark of his Italian ancestry. “I’ve got a bad feeling…”

“You shoulda started with that,” Callum said. Because when Joe had a bad feeling, everything usually went to hell. “Get the team together, and I’ll meet you in the conference room.”

With a chin lift, Joe left. Leaving Callum with a knot in his stomach. It was the same tight sensation he’d endured during the months Ryan had been in a coma. Every day, he’d woken up wondering if it would be the boy’s last. Boy! Ryan was a thirty-two-year-old man and an ex-soldier with remarkable skills, hardly a boy. But deep inside, far beneath his crusty Scottish exterior, Callum couldn’t help thinking of Ryan as another son—although, he’d never admit it, if asked.

“What have you got yourself into this time, lad?” Callum said as he rubbed his hand down his thighs.

Even though his lower leg prosthetics rarely caused pain anymore, he’d found it hard to break the habit. Self-soothing, his physio had called it, before telling him it was common in amputees. Callum had barked at the man, making it clear he didn’t need to be comforted, by himself or anyone else. Yet, when times were particularly stressful, his legs—the part that had been torn off by an IED—ached with phantom pains.

And Ryan missing was definitely stressful. The boy often joked that he was the least skilled of the team, but while he’d been asleep, Callum had learned the truth: Ryan was essential to it.

Turned out, he was their heart.

Grabbing his phone, he strode from his office and up the stairs to the conference room on the first floor of the old Victorian terrace house that was their London base. Although the team had grown in the years since their office had been established, it was only the original members who sat at the table. He scanned the faces that had become family to him—completely against his will.

“Joe, fill them in,” Callum ordered as he took his usual position, standing at the head of the table, arms folded over one of his many gray Henleys.

“Don’t you dare start without me,” a female voice snapped from the doorway.

Callum growled at the sight of Rachel Ford-Talbot, who had once been an owning partner in the business, and a pain in his backside. As usual, she was dressed in some designer suit and a disapproving smirk. She held her iPhone, which would, one day, have to be surgically removed from her hand, and there was a designer handbag slung over the crook of her elbow. The bag probably cost more than Callum’s car because Rachel didn’t do cheap.

“How did you get here so fast? Joe just told me what’s going on.” Callum viewed Rachel as the sister everyone hoped wouldn’t turn up for Christmas dinner.

“I was already here.” Rachel pulled out a seat as her husband, Michael “Harvard” Carter, strolled into the room.

As usual, the former CIA operative was wearing the smug smile he got around his wife. As though he’d hooked a prize-winning fish, when really, he’d caught a piranha.

“Why were you already here?” Callum barked. “You’re CEO of a company that’s based over two hours away. You do realize you don’t work here anymore, right?”

She scoffed. “Like I ever did. I graced this place with my presence and leadership. Something it obviously still needs.” Her cool gaze settled on Joe. “You may begin.”

“Aye, now that her majesty has given you permission, you can fill us all in.” Callum glared at Rachel, who remained unfazed.

Joe’s smile disappeared as he recounted what he’d already told Callum. Expressions around the room sobered, and before Joe had finished talking, Elle Roberts-Knight, their IT expert, had her laptop open with her fingers flying over the keyboard. Her serious demeanor was at odds with her blue hair and pink Minnie Mouse T-shirt. Callum couldn’t see her screen, but he’d bet she was hacking Ryan’s accounts—if she didn’t already have the passwords. Elle had a way of acquiring things she shouldn’t have.

“Did you try calling his mum?” Megan Raast, the only other Scot in the room, asked.

The team had become very close to Ryan’s family during his months in hospital. Especially to his younger sister, who had Downs Syndrome. Grace had pretty much become the team’s mascot during the past year. She was a good kid. One of the few people Callum didn’t mind having around.

His family had returned to Cornwall after it was clear Ryan would be fine. And, although Cornwall wasn’t exactly a day trip from London, they still kept close tabs on Ryan and visited often. Seemed as though none of the people who loved Ryan were quite ready to get over those months he’d been in a coma.

“Yeah,” Joe said. “I called her straight after I spoke to his grandparents. I didn’t give anything away, just told her I rang to say hi. She hasn’t spoken to him since Sunday.”

“Girlfriends?” Dimitri, Megan’s husband—and keeper—asked.

“He hasn’t been seeing anyone since he woke up,” Elle said as she typed. “Says he doesn’t have time for it. I think he’s still a bit freaked that his last Tinder interaction led to our Wi-Fi being hacked and the building getting bombed.” She looked up at Callum. “A thing like that can put you off romance.”

Honestly, there was nothing to say to that, even if Callum could think of something.