ped and fallen to her death. The cliff could have given way beneath her. Hell, she could have accidentally stepped off into the darkness.
“Are you out of your mind?” he yelled, making her gaze jerk back up to his. “You could have died, woman. It’s a miracle you’re still alive. What kind of irresponsible mother sneaks around on a cliff edge in the middle of the bloody night? Do you have a death wish? Do you?”
She jerked her head back as though she’d been slapped, and for a second he thought she might burst into tears. She didn’t. Instead, her shoulders went back, and her eyes blazed.
“Go to hell, Callum McKay. You have no idea what it takes to be a single parent. So don’t go judging me. In fact, don’t bother talking to me at all. Go on back to your hermit existence. I don’t need you or your help. I’m sorry I told you about the body.”
She spun on her heel and strode towards the gate. Callum took a step forward, his hand shooting out to curl around her arm.
“Well, you did tell me, and now we’re both in this mess you call a life. You might not want my help, but you damn well need it. You don’t have the sense God gave a fly. You’re a walking disaster zone, woman.”
“Stop calling me woman! I have a name. Isobel Sinclair. Use my name.”
Callum stepped into her space, close enough that they were breathing the same air. Close enough to become enveloped in her subtle fragrance, and to feel the heat from her sensuous curves. Close enough to see the blazing defiance in her eyes and to feel that look heat his blood.
“You dragged me into this mess,” he said. “Trust me when I say that I didn’t want to get involved. I was happy living my life away from everyone else. I didn’t come to you. You sought me out. You cannot even begin to conceive how much trouble you’ve stumbled into here. There’s a member of the Russian mob in your freezer. Your prints are all over their surveillance equipment, equipment you sold to a local pawnshop, so it’s easy to track. On top of that, you have a death wish that makes you skulk around the cliff edge in the dark. You don’t just need my help, woman, you need a keeper. And after what happened between us this morning, that keeper is me. I don’t care if you like that arrangement or not. All I care about is keeping you alive until we find out if you’re carrying my child.”
“I’m not pregnant!” Isobel shouted.
“Mum?”
Callum and Isobel spun towards the voice. There was a teenage boy standing on the other side of the gate, and he had Isobel’s eyes.
Isobel made a strangled little mewl of pain, jerked her arm from Callum’s hold and rushed towards her son. She held her hands out in front of her, as though it would calm the beast that was obviously rearing inside the boy.
“I can explain,” she said.
The boy’s eyes stayed firmly fixed on Callum. He didn’t flinch, even though Callum had a few inches of height on him, and a whole lot more muscle. The teen was at that difficult stage where his body had grown, but hadn’t yet bulked out to take on the form of a man.
“Seems to me you’re not the one that needs to explain,” the boy said evenly to his mother, gaining Callum’s respect. He kept his eyes on Callum. “Who are you, and what are you doing with my mum?”
Callum didn’t look away. He stared the boy down, giving him the respect of treating him like an adult. “That’s between your mother and me.”
The boy’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched. He didn’t like that answer at all. But he kept hold of his temper, and Callum’s respect went up another notch. The boy had the potential to turn into a fine man.
Isobel was through the gate and was practically running to get to her son. “Come with me.” She grabbed his arms and turned him towards the house. “I’ll explain everything.” She looked over her shoulder at Callum. “I’ll see you down on the beach.” She turned back, giving her full attention to her son.
But the boy wasn’t done with Callum. His eyes held a message. He planned on talking to the man who was messing with his mother. Callum inclined his head in agreement. He’d be waiting for a visit.
Callum watched until the pair disappeared into the house before he turned back to the cliff path. It was steep and uneven, strewn with rocks and clumps of razor grass. It was exactly the kind of path he’d have run down years earlier, without giving it a second thought. Now he hesitated.
His new prosthetic legs were top-of-the-line, with articulated knee and ankle joints, and a computer that kept everything functioning properly. He could walk up and down steps, one leg in front of the other—an impossibility with most other prosthetics. He could stride over uneven surfaces and even swim wearing the damn things. For all intents and purposes, they were as close to having flesh-and-blood legs as he would ever get. But he still couldn’t run down the path to the beach. He’d have to go down steadily, careful to place his feet in the right spots, otherwise he would have a repeat of his experience in Peru—where he’d lost a prosthetic when he’d slipped off a boulder and got his leg jammed in a crack.
Rage simmered, and he fought to contain it. There was no getting past the fact he wasn’t the man he used to be. He couldn’t do the things he used to do. And he needed to face that truth. He’d tried pretending that nothing had changed, that he was capable of everything he’d done when he still had his legs. All that had happened was he’d been proven wrong in a situation that could have resulted in everyone around him being killed.
He was glad Isobel wasn’t with him as he started down the path. Glad she didn’t see him work his way to the beach with the care an octogenarian would take. Part of him was shamed that he’d had sex with the woman and she didn’t even know he was half a man. The rest of him was glad that his secret was safe. Right now, Isobel looked at him as though he was the man he used to be. She looked at him as though he was able to do everything she thought he could do. She didn’t look at him like he was an invalid. There was no pity in her eyes. And Callum planned to do everything within his power to keep it that way.
CHAPTER 8
“YOU SAID YOU WERE DONE with men,” Jack said as soon as Isobel had led him into their kitchen.
His fists were clenched at his sides and his brow was furrowed, making his peridot-coloured eyes seem even more luminous than usual. In that moment, he looked so like his father at the same age that it made Isobel’s heart hurt. Darren had missed out on knowing his wonderful son. He’d missed out in a big way.
“I am through with men,” Isobel said as calmly as she could, considering she was a basket case on the inside.
Jack smirked. “Right. That’s why he’s talking about you being pregnant.”
“I am not pregnant.” She mentally crossed her fingers and hoped. “And I really don’t want to talk about my sex life with my son.”