Taking Hold {ON HOLD}

Prologue

It was as the shampoo trickled down her back with a luxurious ease that she heard the gun shots. It was a special edition scent, lavender and honey, her absolute favourite and she had just begun to lather the concoction into her roots when the shots had shattered her tranquillity.

Losing less than a second to grieve over the loss of her deliciously warm shower Ana sprang into action, shutting off the flow of water in favour of not being electrocuted. Her hand pressed against one of the cream shower tiles and the subtle beep told her she had been recognised.

Through one of the high-tech panels of her shower wall CCTV footage emerged and Ana examined the figure of one of the men she assumed were here to kill her. He looked ordinary enough, none of this scarring or anything that the cartoon villains had, no, this man you could have passed in the street today and you would have thought nothing of it. He was utterly unremarkable. Blond hair, green eyes, average height, slightly attractive she supposed but it was nothing to fawn over.

She personally found the firearm cradled in his arms a massive turnoff.

With a sigh Ana accepted defeat and wrapped her body with the plush deep blue towel, pressing some of the buttons on the keypad that had now appeared she ensured that her flat and the ones surrounding hers were secure before calling the hotline number.

Another gunshot echoed in the night air but no one seemed to wake, no one really appreciated being awake at three in the morning so their bodies tended to oppose the change, Ana's was the exception.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The voice on the other end of the line was polite but ultimately professional, there to get down to it straight away. Just the way Ana needed it at this particular moment.

"Spark is trapped."

"ID?"

"2912"

"I'll put you straight through."

A tone played through the speaker, an obnoxious noise breaking through the otherwise quiet night air. That was if you ignored the gunshots of course.

"Spark?"

"Chambers." Ana replied, recognising the old man's voice. There was a particular note to it that somehow made it instantly recognisable. It sounded like worn leather, a little bit cracked but soft and comfortable. "I am in a bit of a situation."

"How many are there?"

Consulting the CCTV screen, Ana altered the settings to night vision and scanned the entire building and the surroundings. Her building wasn't massive, five floors maybe with each housing ten or so flats.

Her mother had implored her not to purchase a property in such a vulnerable position but at the time Ana had been determined to do anything but what her mother told her to do. Accordingly the flat, security risk and all, had been brought.

Now, although she would never admit it, Ana was slightly regretting her decision.

"Six."

"Armed?"

"All of them."

"Contact?"

"Two shots fired, both indirect."

"Communication with others?"

"No contact made." There was a short sigh on the other end of the phone. That was the wrong answer. Ana had been briefed too many times to count that in the event of an emergency (apparently the current situation warranted such a title) her first port of call should be the brown haired man across the hall. Many people had muttered something to her about him being there to guard her, this being his job and yet Ana knew (as did Chambers) that there was no way in hell that she was going to voluntarily pick up the phone and ask for his help.