Page 1 of Guarding Salvation

Prologue

His face hit the concrete stone of the wall as the copper threw him into the small cell. Anger and booze stopped the pain from the cut on his cheek from registering, the fury pounding through his blood the only thing he could think about as it consumed him.

“Quit yer blethering and sober up, lad. You’ll be in front of a judge in the morning and he won’t want to smell the fumes coming off ye and no be thinking a title is gonna save ya.”

Bram ignored the desk sergeant as he closed the heavy metal door and locked him inside the six-by-six cell. Sounds of fighting and yelling came through from the surrounding cells, souls as lost as he was in this moment, and he wondered how his life had ended up here. Sitting on the small, hard bench that doubled as a bed, he rested his elbows on his knees and held his head. How had tonight gone so wrong? Nausea roiled in his belly like coiling snakes as the ale and shots of tequila began to wear off, the reality of his situation becoming clearer by the second.

He should be home in his luxury bed with a warm, willing body beside him. Instead, he was in a police holding cell waiting to see if a judge would grant him bail. The night had started well; he’d been in the pub with his friends, chatting up some bird who was making it very clear she’d let him fuck her, when his younger sister had come in with her friends. Furious she was cockblocking him, he’d gone over and told her to go home or to move on to another pub, but Lana was eighteen, just a year younger than he was and could legally be there.

They’d argued and she’d left with her friends. He’d been happy he could relax with his mates and have some fun without worrying about her. No boy of nineteen wanted his younger sister cramping his style, especially one with the responsibilities he carried on his shoulders. He needed to just let loose and blow off some steam, forget who he was and what was expected of him for the night.

His arm around the girl, whose name he couldn’t remember, he was about to ask her if she wanted to get some air, which they both knew was code for a quick fuck. Getting laid was easy for him, with ice-blue eyes, dark blond hair which sometimes looked auburn, two full sleeves of tattoos, and a six-pack that came from days on the estate doing physical labour, he knew he’d get his way. She was a sure thing, fucking the heir to a title was like a trophy to these girls. He didn’t care, he wasn’t going to marry them, just have some fun. His fifth pint had been sliding down easy when one of Lana’s friends had come running into the pub.

Instantly his instincts had him moving toward the door and it got a little fuzzy after that, but he’d never forget seeing Lana on the ground in a disgusting alley not a street away, her lip split, her eye swollen, and her clothes ripped. One look into her dead-looking eyes and he’d known what had happened. Rage seared his blood, a fury so deep he could hardly breathe past it broke through as he bellowed his anger. Seeing the fear on his sister’s face, he fought to rein in his rage.

“Who?” It was all he needed to know, revenge pumping through his blood and the desperate desire to kill the person who’d hurt her. He’d crouched beside her as her friends gathered around her. “Lana, please, tell me who did this.” He softened his voice as she looked at him and a sob escaped her as she uttered his name.

“Ray Walsh.”

“He’s gonna pay, Lana.”

“Bram, no!”

Bram had ignored her cries. That fucking bastard had been sniffing around Lana for months. Bram had thought his warning was enough and now this had happened. The slithering prick had violated his sister. He’d found Ray laughing in the pub, bragging about what he’d done in front of all his mates. He’d dragged him outside by his hair as he’d tried to get away and beaten him unconscious. It felt like a red mist had fallen over him; he was no longer himself, but a machine with only one thought and that was revenge. Over and over, he pummelled his fists into Walsh’s face, seeing the blood splatter as bone and cartilage gave way under the force of his blows. Walsh had gone from a confident prick to the snivelling rat he was in moments as he saw the hatred in Bram’s eyes and knew he’d get no redemption for his crimes.

Even as Walsh went from begging and crying to silent, he kept going. The rage, unlike anything he’d known before, completely taking over him. All he could see was the broken defeat on his sister’s face.

He would’ve kept going but his friends pulled him away as the cops arrived. He remembered coming out of the fog of frenzied violence and seeing the blood dripping from his cracked knuckles. He should have felt bad but as the memories came back to him, Bram felt not an ounce of regret for what he’d done or that Walsh would be eating through a tube for months. No, his guilt lay with allowing it to happen in the first place.

If he’d just thought as a brother and not as some scrotum who only cared about getting his dick wet, then this wouldn’t have happened. When they’d arrested him, he’d refused a lawyer, or any counsel, not wanting to drag his family name through the mud. His only call had been to his father to make sure Lana was okay.

He’d been relieved to hear she was, but furious that she wouldn’t press charges and report her attack. He knew his father was probably behind that, the family name was important after all. He’d had it drilled into him since the day he was born that he was a McCullum and, as the son of Laird John McCullum, the twelfth Laird to own the title and the McCullum estate and castle, it was his duty to bring pride and never shame.

Bram did feel shame though for letting his sister get hurt in the first place. He’d failed her and now she’d live with the consequences of that for the rest of her life. All he’d ever wanted to do was live his life and make his family proud, to be worthy of the name McCullum. His father had sounded so shocked by his actions, so disappointed in him and what he’d done. He’d never wanted to bring dishonour to his family.

Now he’d done just that, and he knew he’d do it again if the choice was offered. He only wished he’d done it before that fecking shitehole touched his sister.

Lying back on the bench, he looked up at the ceiling of the cell, wishing he could go back in time and stop what had happened. Ray Walsh had always hated him. The Walsh family had some beef with his dad that he didn’t understand nor care about. He wanted no part in the politics that came with owning the wealth and title he’d one day inherit. All he wanted was to finish his degree in Agricultural Economics and Business so he could make the estate thrive again.

He must have dozed off because he woke to the door being pulled open. He jumped to his feet, his head pounding and his gut churning. He paused to get his balance and flexed his fingers, which were torn and bloody, reminding him of what had happened a few hours earlier. The police station was eerily quiet now, with people sleeping off their drunken fights or coming to the realisation of what they’d done.

“You have a visitor.”

“What time is it?”

“Five-thirty. Now get movin’, I ain’t your damn secretary.”

Bram followed the copper, the same one who’d nicked him, down the corridor to the same interview room they’d used a few hours earlier. Inverness was a busy police station, especially on a Saturday night and he could hear the shouts and scuffles coming from near the desk where he’d been brought in earlier. It seemed only the cells were quiet, but the night was far from over for some.

He stepped into the room and was directed to a chair before the policeman left. Bram looked around, taking everything in and cataloguing the cameras, the exits, the threats before his eyes landed on the two-way mirror. He felt the hair prick up on the back of his neck like he was being watched. He didn’t look away but continued to stare at whoever was watching him.

He had nothing to hide. Fuck, he’d confessed to everything, not arguing a single charge. The detective who’d charged him had even said he understood why he’d done what he did, and he was sorry that he’d now face a future with a record because of it. Of course, that had been off the record and would have no bearing on his sentence. He didn’t care. Lana would have the biggest burden to carry, and it was his fault. He’d happily give up his life if it meant she didn’t have to go through what she had.

The door opened and a man he’d never seen stepped into the room. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes, and looked like he wrestled tigers for a hobby. Everything about him screamed military, from his hair to the way he walked.

He sat down opposite Bram without a word and rested his arms on the desk in a relaxed manner. “I’m here to make you an offer.”

Bram sat back, feeling more uncomfortable than he’d like to admit. This guy seemed cool, but everything about Bram was telling him he was a predator or could be if someone got on the wrong side of him. “Not interested.”