Reid - Maddie Wade Page 0,6

as a second text came through.

“Holy shit!”

Reid turned in his seat and grabbed for the phone. “What?”

“Think I know how your girl can afford it.”

Reid looked down at the image of the outrageously beautiful woman on the screen and felt like he’d been gut-punched.

“That, right there, is Callista Lundholm. The supermodel.”

Chapter Two

Callie was curled up on her cream leather sofa with the large Beatles throw blanket her brother had bought her as a housewarming gift over her legs. Bono, her three-year-old Rottweiler was at her side. She’d rescued him after he’d been put out to pasture for not being aggressive enough for the security company, she’d used for one of her first assignments.

She’d promptly sacked the security company and kept the dog, who was a big teddy bear but protective of her. Thank God she had too. A shiver coursed down her spine at the thought of what could have happened if the lunatic who’d climbed up six floors to her roof terrace had got to her.

Callie watched as Detective Oliver Brant moved around her penthouse. When she’d moved in less than six months ago, she’d been so excited. It was her first real home of her own, bought with her own money. Now as she looked around at the space, all she saw was possible places where a murderous psycho could hide.

She’d been in her room reading the latest Romantic Suspense from her new favourite author India Kells, when it happened. Her first instinct when Bono had growled low in his throat had been to shush him, but something about the sound, which she’d never heard before, prompted her not too.

Her bedroom was downstairs—the layout of the space was upside down with the living space above to take advantage of the roof terrace. Biting back the fear, she’d moved behind Bono and crept up the stairs on tip toes, not daring even to breathe in case she made a sound.

Seeing the shadow on her terrace had frozen her in place. Terror, a cold band of steal across her throat, stopped her from breathing. By some miracle the phone in her hand had rung, snapping her out of her fear and alerting the intruder to her presence. They had locked eyes for a second, his behind a mask as she froze and dropped the phone. A woof from beside her made her move.

Grabbing for the phone, she snatched it up as she watched the man turn and jump from the roof terrace. She’d burst into tears at the sound of her brother’s voice, trying and failing to tell him what was happening. The emotional outburst was so out of character for her that Clay had instantly known something was wrong.

His firm, calm commands for her to breathe and calm down had worked their way through the fog of fear until she was calm enough to explain what had happened. He’d demanded she call the police and then lock herself in the bathroom with Bono until they got there and gave her a code to use as an additional safety measure, and he’d call her back as soon as he’d contacted a friend in Hereford to see if he could help. Before she could protest the last, he’d hung up.

She’d quickly phoned the police and was now sitting on the lid of the toilet seat. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around them, as Bono sat at her feet while she waited for the police to show or Clay to call her back. Less than ten minutes later the sounds of sirens could be heard. She felt her phone ring in her hand, and almost dropped it on the tile in surprise.

“Calista Lundholm, this is Detective Brant with the London Met. I’m at your door. Can you please open up?”

“What’s the code?”

“Humpty Dumpty.”

Callie smiled at that. “Hang on.”

She stood and walked to the door, checking the peephole before opening it. The detective did a quick clinical sweep of her body as she let him in and was followed by a younger man with blond hair. Whereas Brant was playing it cool, pretending he didn’t recognise her, the other Detective was less so and couldn’t hide his excitement. Callie was used to the attention that came with modelling, it was hard to get away from and she usually handled it with grace, but tonight she didn’t have it in her.

Callie realised she was wearing satin sleep shorts and a thin vest that only covered what it