“Ye dinnae get a say in the matter,” Rhys snapped. “We will win this day.”
“Then let’s get on it,” Connor said from the doorway. “The lockdown has been dissolved. Let’s be done wi’ this.”
“Aye,” Laird and Rhys agreed.
“I want to go by the hotel and get our blades,” Laird added. “I willnae hae ye two unarmed.”
“And ye?” Rhys asked.
Laird pulled out Scarlett’s pistol and showed it to them. “’Tis a shame we dinnae cross paths earlier. This time, I will meet Jameson on his own terms.”
A heartbeat of silence fell over the room.
Emmy cleared her throat. “Connor, may I have a word with you for a moment?”
Emmy
“You can’t be thinking of going along?” Emmy asked the moment they stepped into the hall.
“I maun, lass. We cannae wait for Jameson to make another move. We maun take the battle to him.”
Connor crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her with a steady gaze. Primed for her rebuttal. Ready to fight with her so he could go fight someone else.
Too bad for him she was willing to fight back. Someone had to talk sense.
“It could be a suicide mission. Jameson is dangerous.”
“Do ye no’ think I can be a dangerous mon under the proper circumstances, lass?”
Emmy shivered at the steadfast look in his dark eyes. These were such circumstances. He wanted revenge for the harm done today as much as any of the other men. As if it had been his own child threatened, his own friend killed. His own blood spilled. The threat had awakened a warrior in her husband.
Yes, she knew he had it in him. He was fairly itching to dive into the fray and exact vengeance. Perhaps that was what she was trying to prevent. Not that Jameson deserved any latitude for his crimes. It was collateral damage she feared.
“You are an incredible man, strong and brave. Good in a fight,” she told him. “But you are not bulletproof. None of you are. And Jameson has shown himself all too ready to use them.” On anyone who got in his way. “How can you think to win against him when you may not even be able to get close to him?”
“I’m no’ afraid to shed a bit of blood in exchange for triumph, lass.”
“And I’m afraid you’ll do just that.”
Another quiver ran through her when his knuckles traced the line of her cheek. He softened and offered her a smile. “’Tis nae time for yer doom and gloom, lass. Try to think positive.”
“How can I? All that blood today…” She shuddered at the memory of Tyrone Halliday’s blood gushing beneath her hands. Oozing between her fingers. There’d been nothing she could do to save him.
Connor could call it doom and gloom all he wanted. If he carried through with this insanity, it might be his blood next. His life leeching away before her eyes. She couldn’t bear the thought. Her life was nothing without him in it.
“I’m scared, Connor.” Shitless. It killed her to admit it. Emmy had spent her adult life determined to never let life intimidate her again. She’d never even let Connor, as fierce as he’d been when they’d first met, frighten her.
This struggle they faced did.
His lips brushed her forehead, warm and alive. “I told ye a long time ago, we maun hae faith that our destiny together is God’s will.”
“It’s not God’s will!” Emmy protested. “It’s Donell’s. Frankly his word on the matter isn’t good enough for me anymore.”
He smiled at her. “Maun I hae faith enough for us both once again, lass?”
There was a hint of amusement in his gruff brogue. It infuriated Emmy. Did he think this was a game? “Connor, I’m serious!”
“As am I, my love.” He flattened her hand between his, his expression once again solemn. “I ken I’ve naught seen the same battlefields and bloodshed Laird, Rhys, and Hugh hae, however defending my clansmen is in my blood. And these are my clansmen, lass. I will fight wi’ them. I will gi’ my life for them or wi’ them. I can do nae less.”
How could honor be such an attractive quality yet so infuriating at the same time? Connor’s devotion to his clan had been one of the first things to charm her. And also to confound her, but there it was. A part of him.
God help her, she loved all parts of him.
“There’s nothing I can say to stop you?”
“Nay, my love.”
Without the yes she’d hoped for, Emmy nodded in resignation. “Then I’m coming, too.”
Connor stiffened. “Nay, lass.”
“Oh aye, I am,” came her firm retort. “Someone may need medical attention before this is all done. I’m coming.”
He glared down at her, determined to cow her into submission. Emmy scowled in return. She wouldn’t back down. Her devotion to him was just as strong as his to his family. Besides, too much was at stake for her to do nothing more than sit and wait. She hadn’t been able to control much in her life of late and the incapacity vexed her.
In that, she and Laird had something in common. He wanted to steer fate. So did she. She couldn’t do it without a hand on the wheel.
“Fine,” he relented. “But swear ye’ll stay back.”
She would if only so she didn’t distract him and make him do something stupid in her defense.
“I promise.”
He opened his arms and Emmy stepped into his embrace. His strength and conviction enveloped her, soothing her…for the moment, at least. Warm fingers traced her jaw, then lifted her chin. Their lips met with promise and sweet surrender that clenched her chest with a poignant ache. His heart beat strong against her, their breath merging. Reminders of life. Of love.
His faith in their predestined years together had never wavered. Through all their travails and uncertainty, he’d never doubted they were meant for each other. For all time.
The time had come to join him in his conviction.
And hope Donell was as committed to their long lives together as they.
“I love ye, my bonny lass,” he whispered in her ear. “I promise ye, I’m no’ ready to leave ye yet.”
“I love you, too.” Her heart ached with fiery regret. The sentiment was never enough to convey all she felt. Emmy intended to show him for many years to come.
Laird stepped out into the hall, glancing in the direction of the nursery. “Hae ye seen Scarlett?”
Ten minutes later, there was no sign of her. Only the word of a security guard who said he saw her leaving.
Alone.
“That blasted woman best no’ be doing what I think she is,” Laird groused. “We’d best be after her before she gets herself killed. Rhys, stay wi’ the bairns.”
Rhys shook his head. “Nay, I told ye, I’m coming wi’ ye. Hugh and Claire can watch o’er the bairns.”
“But who will care for them if we dinnae make it back?” Laird clasped his brother’s shoulder and looked upon him with solemn eyes. “Who will see them safely home and raise them? There is nae one I trust more wi’ the task than ye, brother.”
Rhys cursed a blue streak but who could argue with a plea like that?
Emmy could only hope when the sun set on the day, he wouldn’t need to honor the pledge.
Rhys pulled out his dagger and held it out to his brother. “This blade has drawn that bastard’s blood once this day. Promise me ye’ll see that it drips wi’ it ‘ere this is over.”
“Aye, Rhys. I swear it.”
Jameson
Frustrated, Jameson threw his pistol across his motel room before the door slammed shut behind him. It landed with a soft plunk on the bed. A long, vile string of curses followed to break the silence before he went to retrieve it.
Looking down the barrel in disgust, he replayed the hour before in his mind. Reviewed his failure until rage writhed like a pit of snakes in his gut. His sights must have been off for him to miss his mark so often. Skill versus panic had nothing to do with it. He was a superior marksman when distance and conditions were optimal. Firing while a
t a full run wasn’t easy, but he’d drawn blood and plenty of it. Two of his targets were injured.
The condition of the man who’d taken the bullet meant for Scarlett Thomas was inconsequential. As was her life. Yes, he’d like to take her down. The broader the scope of his revenge, the happier he’d be. However, her death or survival was trivial in the greater scheme of things.
It was the savages whose lives needed to be terminated. The anomalies in time. Urquhart and the actress’s lover were his primary targets, along with the two children. Regardless of what Urquhart thought, he wasn’t convinced which child had spawned him. Best to take out both than risk further failure.
However, his supposition that one of those two children regenerated down to Urquhart might also be erroneous. He needed to take out the actress’s lover in case another child was yet to come.
Given what he knew, he didn’t think so, but all his bases needed to be covered at this point.
He wasn’t entirely sure who the other two barbarians were, but if they were among Donell’s playthings from the past, they would have to die too. He needed to develop another strategy to get to them. They would be on guard from this moment. The police would try to thwart him, as well.
Jameson caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the chest of drawers when he turned. That wild bitch had scratched him deep. Peering closer, he lifted his chin and dabbed at the blood crusting on his jaw. Damn that knife-wielding savage! He would pay, too, no matter what role he had in all this.
There was a jagged tear at the shoulder of his suit jacket where the shot fired by the security guard had snagged him. Well, that guy had been repaid in kind.
Donell, that old bastard. All of this was his fault.
If he’d known all that awaited him, Jameson wouldn’t have tried to make Urquhart’s death look like an accident and done away with him months ago. In retrospect, he should have done the same back in the beginning. He may have, if his attempts to recapture his prisoner hadn’t been foiled by the incessant oversight of his INSCOM counterpart on Mark-Davis’s original time travel program.
Agent Nichols had paid for his interference. Jameson hoped he was enjoying his “retirement.” From life.
Soon the rest of them would join him and the future…his future would be set to rights.
Then Donell—when he saw all his work crumbling around and knew he’d failed—would be the one to pay.
White light blinded him for a moment and Jameson knew he was no longer alone. He refused to look up.
“Come to gloat, old man?”
Donell
“Ye were once a better man than this, Phillip.”
“Is that all you’ve come to say?” Jameson sneered. Donell moved into his peripheral. He turned away to his gun bag and reloaded his magazines with more bullets. “Not to beg me to spare lives? To stop? I’ve nearly managed to undo all your work.”
“Ye’re no’ even close.” Donell glanced around the cramped room with its cheap furnishings and stained carpets. Jameson had been living like an animal. Acting like one. It saddened him to see it all come to this when they’d once been so close. “’Twill go on despite what ye’ve done this day.”
Jameson visibly bristled but otherwise carried on with his task. “Then why are you here?”
“To warn ye. They’re coming for ye, lad.” Donell kept his tone even and calm. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the chest of drawers across from the foot of the bed. “I willnae try to stop them. No’ after all ye’ve done.”
“So, what then? You’ve come to watch?” the man taunted him. “See how many I take down before they take me?”
“It willnae matter what ye do, lad. I will see it undone. As I hae many times before,” Donell reminded him. “I will reset the timeline as many times as it takes. Ye willnae win in the end.”
“Then I’ll die in the attempt.” Still Jameson would not look at him. The lengthy section of his comb-over hung down the side of his head, and his tie was askew, his suit rumpled. Hardly the dapper man he’d once known.
Donell wagged his head from side to side, scuffing a booted foot across a black burn in the carpet. “Och, when did ye become such a bitter mon?”
“You know when. I’ll continue to fight until my last breath for it.”
“It disnae need to come to that, lad. Let me take ye away from here.”
“And deposit me somewhere along the way like you did last time we met?” Jameson laughed, bitter. “I’ve been stuck here for twenty years because of you.”
“I did it for the sake of all mankind.”
“You did it to save your own ass!” Jameson finally faced him, fire burning in his eyes. “I’m only here because I tried to stop you. Your arrogance killed my wife!”
“And my own,” Donell reminded him sadly. Defeat sat ill upon him. They’d both lost so much for his quest. They’d both suffered for it. Jameson didn’t see it the same as he. The good of the human race outweighed any personal loss. As painful as it might be, it was true. “Even so, I ken ‘twas the proper thing to do. I’d do it again. Undoing what I hae done might bring Tess back to ye but it would ruin us all.”
The future he’d known, the future he’d come from had been a catastrophe. Man versus machine. Wars that had cost billions of lives and destroyed much of the planet.
Donell’s effort to create a timeline to put an end to the devastation had its own price. Lives saved but others lost in the process. His wife had been one of them. And as a result of her early demise because of the changes he’d made, his beloved child had never even been conceived.
But Donell remembered his daughter, Tess, as an echo of that altered life. Just as Jameson, who’d initially worked side by side with him, retained the memory of Donell’s daughter. Jameson’s wife.
While Donell mourned the loss with all his heart knowing that was how it must be, Jameson had been unable to move on. Determined to undo all they’d done to save the world. Undo the changes Donell had put in place.
Changes that ensured the existence of one woman who would become the savior of a future earth.
Hugh and Claire’s child was just the beginning. From that babe, a better future became possible. He’d seen it. Orchestrated it.
One life saved to birth a new generation of invention needed to prevent tragedy.
One life to make the changes the future world needed to carry on.
One life secured to save the lives of so many.
It was worth the sacrifice he’d made, whether Jameson acknowledged that or not.
Jameson sneered at him. “I knew the moment Mark-Davis came up with a working time portal—primitive as it was—something wasn’t right. No one else was even close to such a breakthrough. I know. I’ve been tracking it all for years. I should have expected from the get-go you had something to do with it. It stinks of you and your fucked up fairy tale mission.”
“’Tis nae fairy tale, lad. We made mistakes. We all did,” Donell tried to change Jameson’s mind again. “We were the ones who made the annihilation of our way of life possible to begin with. We did it. I was the only one who kent we had to fix it. Whatever the cost.”
Jameson chuckled humorlessly. “So, you set me down in the middle of a nightmare I couldn’t escape. Did you think I wouldn’t continue to fight you?”
Donell sighed. “There will always be men like you, Phillip. Men who try to hold back the future. I hae rectified the wrong. All is well.”
“For now, perhaps. But they are a blight on humanity. I will not stop trying to wipe them off the face of the earth. Before they spawn further.”
“’Tis already happened, Phillip.”
Jameson fumed in impotent rage. Aye, there was nothing he could do to stop Donell. It was time he accepted it. Moved on. Donell would reset the timeline as often as necessary to maintain the new peace.
Even if his own heart was broken a thousand times over in the process.
“Let me take ye somewhere, far away from here,
lad,” Donell urged. “Somewhere of yer choosing. A place ye might find peace and happiness again. Before it’s too late. Yer quest is a futile one. Nae matter what ye do, I will be there to set it to rights.”
“Who will see to that if you’re dead?”
Scarlett
Scarlett stared at the motel room door, her insides knotting with nerves and uncertainty. The solemn peal of the Canongate Toll Booth Clock rang out in the distance to mark the hour.
Bong.
Each strike like a death knell in her heart. If Laird wouldn’t accept it was a no-win situation, then she’d have to do what Captain Kirk did.
Cheat.
Take out Jameson before he could hurt anyone else. Including Laird. Laird would be wrong in thinking she wanted Jameson’s blood for herself. She wanted the madman punished, yes, but more than retribution, she wanted to ensure not a drop of her husband’s blood hit the ground.
She couldn’t bear to lose him after all she’d lost today. The way Laird talked, his intention might as well have been to be a sacrificial lamb.
Dong.
Scarlett wouldn’t have it.
It was her turn to take care of her family. No matter what Laird said, she knew it had to be her. He might consider her his responsibility, but he was hers as well. It could not be solely his job to see to their safety.
It was hers, as well.
Easier said than done, though.
Whatever she’d told Tyrone about the direction of her moral compass, no deviation she’d ever made from true north had been so perilous.
Beyond this door lay a psychopath who’d shown no remorse in murdering innocent people. In all likelihood, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her either.
Unlike this morning, she planned to shoot back.
Scarlett dug into her purse for her gun. Nothing. Confusion froze her in place for a moment. Opening the bag wide, she dug through the contents, certain she’d missed it in her search.
But no. It wasn’t there.
Now what? Return to the hospital with her head hung low? Wait to be chastis—
A Laird to Hold Page 24
