Page 13 of The B-Team

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

The two cops searching for passwords in Callum’s office were talking again.

“Maybe there’s something in the house at the back of the property,” the woman said. “I’ve heard the boss and his family live there. We should check it for passwords too.”

“Fairly sure somebody’s already doing that,” the guy said. “But it won’t hurt to give them a hand.”

As they strode from the office, Katrina crossed to the bank of monitors. She pulled out the keyboard under them and brought up the menu, hoping to find that Callum’s house had been wired for surveillance too. She found a file marked Callum and clickedon it. A single text message filled the screen:Don’t even bloody think about spying on me again, Elle.

Guess that was a no to cameras, then.

With a sigh, Katrina hunted through the kitchen for a snack. She found some popcorn, microwaved it, and returned to watching the cops dismantle the office above her. All the while feeling completely helpless.

Something she’d sworn she’d never feel again.

Frowning at the screens, she ate and plotted. There had to besomethingshe could do to help. Anything! The popcorn tasted like cardboard slathered with synthetic butter, but she ate her way through it as she thought, confident that an idea would come to her soon.

CHAPTER FIVE

Julia Barone, office manager and strategic savant, didn’t live far from the Benson Security office. As a wedding present, her family of movie stars and entertainment industry legends had bought the couple a cottage in Battersea, across the River Thames from the office. Ryan loved Joe and Julia’s house. It was old and quirky, sprawling the width of their garden. The layout made very little sense, seeing as people had just added on rooms as needed, but the place had a homely, welcoming vibe that always made him feel relaxed.

Isobel rang the bell beside the wooden door set in the outer wall. Instead of answering it remotely, Julia’s sister, Belinda, swung the door open. Like their mother, Belinda Collins was a movie star; unlike their mother, who’d married a film director, Belinda had married John “Beast” Garcia—ex-MMA fighter and part-time Benson Security specialist as well as a full-time bodyguard for his wife. The tattoo-covered man stood at his wife’s side, looking grim.

“Hurry on in.” Belinda motioned urgently to them. “The press hasn’t found their way here yet, but it’s only a matter of time, and I don’t want Julia getting upset. She’s on bed restbecause her blood pressure’s through the roof, and that’s bad for the baby.”

Ryan and Isobel hurried into the garden, and Belinda slammed the door behind them.

“Um, maybe we shouldn’t be here if Julia isn’t supposed to get upset,” Ryan said.

“Too late for that.” Beast started up the path toward the house. “Rachel texted her from the office before the police took everybody away. Julia’s been on her laptop ever since.” He flashed them a rueful smile. “She made us roll a couple of whiteboards into her bedroom. It’s our job to keep them updated.”

“Honestly.” Belinda’s perfect smile always made Ryan do a double take. Even after knowing her for years, he was still more used to seeing it on billboards than in person. “I think she’s better now she has a project. Just sitting around worrying about the baby has been hard on her.”

“Especially as she can’t get up and organize the contents of every cupboard into sets of three,” Beast added.

Ryan grinned at him. Julia’s OCD was legendary. “Has Sarah arrived yet? It took us a while to find a babysitter for Isobel’s kids.”

“Not yet,” Belinda said.

“It’s so hard to get a decent sitter,” Isobel said. “Callum scares most of them away with his interrogations and deep-dive background checks. Fortunately, Mrs. Moore was available. She used to nanny for the royal family back in the day. Now she’s retired and just takes on the odd job. She isn’t cheap, but Callum can’t have it both ways. Finding someone who passes all his tests and charges barely anything is an impossible task.”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t have a full-time bodyguard for the kids,” Beast said.

Isobel pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare put that thought in his head! You hear me?”

He held up his hands. “Loud and clear.”

“Claire’s here,” Belinda said quickly. “She’s talking babies with Julia. I never realized there was so much involved in giving birth. I just assumed nature took its course.”

“Bet listening to that was fun,” Ryan said. “Claire has nothing but war stories, and a helluva lot of them too.” He’d lost count of how many kids Grunt’s wife, Megan’s twin sister, had now. Four hundred? Five? There had to be at least ten sets of twins in there too.

“They were discussing epidurals when we left,” Beast said.

“Ran. We ran,” Belinda corrected with a shudder.

“I’m glad Sarah isn’t here yet,” Ryan said as they hit the sunny patio in front of the white-trimmed conservatory. “I’m hoping for a brother or sister for this baby, and if Claire freaks her out, Sarah will never let me touch her ever again.” He wasn’t joking either. “Do you have any idea how many childbirth statistics I’ve had to listen to? Or the cost of raising a kid? Or the chances of the kid being harmed or getting ill? She has it all listed in a spreadsheet. She says that, statistically, the risks of having children far outweigh any perceived benefits. Apparently, if any other endeavor had the same level of risk, no insurance company in the world would underwrite it.” He held up his hands in supplication. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

Isobel patted his shoulder. “Just let her get it out of her system. It’s how she copes. Last week, she explained to me why crochet’s a high-risk activity, something to do with RSI. But she did say it was harder to injure yourself with a crochet hook than a knitting needle, so I guess it gains points there.”