Highlander's Beloved 02 - A Highlander's Passion

by Vonnie Davis

  “Bring a wheelchair and flash your badge. Talk some police shite to the nurses; they willna ken the difference. I’ll lie in the backseat. Hell, ye’ll never even ken I’m there. I have to see her. Call Creighton and Hamish, and our cousin, Neilan too. They can take a second vehicle. Have them stop and pick up Earnan, in case one of us gets hurt. Tell him to bring some bloody pain pills.” He ended the call.

  “Well!” Effie’s eyes widened. “Your eldest brother isn’t the only one who knows how to take charge and give orders. I’m going down to my room and change into the clothes Paisley brought me today. I was supposed to leave here tomorrow anyway; a few hours early shouldn’t hurt. Because I’m going along too. You never know when a bit of witchcraft might come in handy. Besides, I’ve got a skinny backside: I won’t take up much room.” She hurried toward the door and grabbed the handle before looking over her shoulder. “And Bryce?”

  “Aye, ma’am?”

  “If you leave without me, I’ll turn your pecker into a snail. That’s how much Sparrow means to me.” She opened the door, glanced up and down the hall, and snuck out of his room.

  Thirty-two damn interminable minutes later, Kendric and Ronan finally pushed a wheelchair into Bryce’s room. “Sure took ye long enough.”

  “Shut up!” Ronan tossed sweat clothes at him. “As if the family hasna worried enough about ye, now ye want to risk the repair to yer leg by insisting ye go along. Hell, ye were always a demanding brat.”

  Kendric folded his arms and fought a grin as he tipped his head toward Ronan. “Yer brother is a mite pissed. I’ve been hearing him bitch and moan since I told him what ye wanted to do.”

  “Of all the asinine ideas, Bryce. Have ye even tried walking yet? What good will ye do us by going along?” Ronan’s hands snapped to his waist. “Honestly, think this through and tell me, what possible help will ye be?”

  Pain shot through his thigh as Bryce moved his leg to slip his foot into the navy sweatpants with “Police” emblazoned along the sides of the legs. Damned if he’d show how much the movement hurt him. “She’s me woman, Ronan. I ken ye dinna get how a man can love a woman so much nothing else matters but her.” He leaned side to side to ease the pants up his legs to his ass and then lay across the bed to ease them to his waist. He gritted his teeth. Christ, the pain.

  “Would ya just look at him?” Ronan pointed. “He can barely dress himself.”

  “I’m getting into them, ye fukin’ numpty-headed fool. Show a man some bloody patience.” Bryce reached fer the T-shirt and yanked it on.

  Kendric’s grin spread. “I feel a lotta love in this room.”

  Both brothers glared at the detective and yelled in frustrated unison, “Shut the fook up!”

  Creighton marched in, ready to take control like always, and Bryce wasna in the mood fer his bossiness either. “What the hell? I can hear ye two arguing like eight-year-olds all the way down the hall.”

  Bryce aimed his thumb at Ronan. “He started it.”

  Ronan threw his hands in the air and stomped toward the window. “I refuse to ride in the same vehicle with him. He’s got me so damn mad, I willna be able to keep me hands off his bloody throat.”

  Creighton, holding boots and socks, got on his knees in front of Bryce. “Listen to me now.” His kept his voice low as if hoping only Bryce could hear. “I get ye, man.” He tugged the socks on Bryce’s feet. “Believe me, I do.” He pushed on the boots, yanked on the shoestrings, and tightened them before tying them. His actions brought back memories of his doing the same thing when they were kids coming to grips with their da’s death. “I snatched these from yer closet in case ye do need to walk in an emergency. Earnan brought along crutches fer ye and a wheelchair.” He wrapped his large hands around Bryce’s ankles and squeezed. “I ken why ye need to go along. If it were Paisley, I’d be tearing apart everything in me path to get to her. I’m here to help ye get back yer woman. All ye need do is ask and ʼtis done.” He pinned Bryce with dark eyes of sincerity. “I’m yer eldest brother, and I’ve got yer back.”

  Bryce exhaled a sigh of relief. He could always count on Creigh; he had since the day their da died. He looked away and blinked for a minute to gain some control of his emotions. He clasped Creigh’s shoulder and squeezed. Creigh nodded once as if he understood and got to his feet.

  “Thanks for yer thoughtfulness, everyone. Feels good to have clothes on again.” Bryce smiled at Ronan. “It’s fine if ye dinna want to ride with me. Ye can ride in the vehicle with Effie. She ought to be dressed and charging in here any minute now.”

  “Effie?” Ronan roared.

  “Yes?” She sauntered into the room, toting a large lime green bag over her shoulder that matched her slacks and her lime-and-pink-striped blouse. Small lime green loops inside larger hoops of the same color clanked when she moved her head. “I told Bryce if he left without me, I’d turn his pecker into a snail.” She arched an eyebrow at Ronan. “Do you have any objection to my riding along?”

  His hand went to his crotch. “No, ma’am, none at all.”

  “Good.” She swiveled to Kendric just as Earnan, Hamish, and Neilan, all shifters and part of the Matheson clan, entered the room. Effie went toe to toe with the police detective. “What reports are you getting on that phone tracking device of yours?”

  “She’s in a vehicle of some kind. The driver’s broken every speed limit. He’s headed toward Glasgow and has quite a head start on us. If we go in cars, we’ll never catch up; that’s why we’re traveling by helicopters. I’ve got two fueled, waiting on the hospital’s helipad. Each holds four passengers and some equipment. I’ll pilot the one and Ronan will fly the other.”

  Effie fingered Kendric’s badge and smiled up at him before she winked. “Will we have to go through any security?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I’m afraid to answer that question. Suppose ye tell me why ye ask.”

  She brushed imaginary pieces of lint off his broad shoulders. “Well, there’s a matter of a small weapon in my purse.” She puckered her pink lips. “Just a wee weapon, as ye Scottish say.”

  Kendric’s dark eyebrows dipped into a V. “Weapon, ma’am?”

  “Yes. Small, sweetheart, and only Bryce can use it. The witches have blessed it for his success in killing this wicked wizard.”

  “Oh, bloody hell,” Ronan moaned. “A witchy doodad fer baby brother.”

  Effie whirled on him. “You mind your manners, young man, or would that be snail dick? Did you think my earlier threat to mess with your pecker was nothing but an old woman’s puff of air?” There was much snickering and elbowing before Effie arched a finely plucked eyebrow at each man. “It took a lot of effort to get the weapon out of its secret hiding place, blessed, and tele-transported to me in time for this mission.”

  Neilan elbowed Hamish and sniggered. “ ‘Mission,’ the old American calls it.”

  “I willna have ye speak ill of Effie.” Earnan slid his arm around her narrow shoulders. “I’m sure she’s gone to much trouble fer Bryce’s success in doing away with this bastard.”

  Kendric ran a hand down his face and around to the back of his neck. “May I see this ‘wee’ weapon?”

  “Oh, sure.” Effie opened her purse and with both hands heaved from it an engraved lead dagger, longer than her arm from her elbow to her fingertips. The handle was gold and the six-inch tapered tip of the blade was silver.

  “Holy fukin’ hell! Small?” Kendric’s gaze bounced from the blade to her wrinkled face.

  Evidently she chose not to get on the policeman’s bad side any more than she already had. “Isn’t it beautiful? The combination of the three metals—gold, lead, and silver—are imperative in killing this evil wizard.” She spun to Bryce. “You must strike him in these three places and in this order. It’s very important.”

  Her breathing grew heavy and she handed the dagger to Kendric, whose eyes widened as he hefted it. She held up three fingers. “Pierce his heart first.” She lowered one
finger. “Then his neck, in the jugular vein.” One finger remained outstretched. “Lastly, his navel. Remember the order—heart, jugular, navel. And you must do this in human form. It was decided your bear should not have a taste of Fauste’s tainted blood. Some of the witches fear the bear would turn to the dark side, if he did. Is that clear?”

  Buzzards and bats, the old woman was something else. “Yes, ma’am. May I ask what the engraving says or signifies?”

  She nodded and pointed to the encryptions. “Of course. An intelligent man like you would want to know.” She shot a scowl at Neilan, who turned beet red. It’s Greek for ‘Kill that which is evil,’ or as we modern witches like to say, ‘Kill the fucker.’ ”

  All the men choked and turned their backs, their shoulders shaking. She spared them a glower.

  “I’ll give it to you closer to the time you’ll need it. Bryce, I cannot emphasize enough that you do not hesitate. Heart, jugular, navel, and then he will die and your love will be safe. But only you can do this. The weapon has been prepared and sanctified only for you.” She opened her large purse and Kendric shoved it back in.

  Creighton took both of her hands in his. “Effie, ye know I love ye, but as Bryce’s brother and laird, I have questions. I watched Kenzie ram a sword into Fauste’s chest and he turned into a shimmering pool of water before floating off as a cloud. So if a sword didna kill him, how will that dagger do the job? I grant it’s big as bloody hell, but…” His gaze raked over Bryce, who felt warmed from the inside out by the affection and fear beaming from his eldest brother’s eyes.

  “These are all good questions, darling. The sword Kenzie used was hardened steel. Steel holds no power against a wizard. But the combination of gold, lead, and silver encompasses an exceptional force. Trust me: If Bryce follows my instructions—and I’ll do my best to be nearby—he’ll be victorious.” She stood on tippy toe, cupped Creighton’s cheek, and kissed him. “I won’t let you down, my granddaughter’s beloved.”

  “Aye, I trust ye, Gram. I just had to ask.” He helped Bryce into the wheelchair.

  Kendric glanced around at everyone. “Are we ready to roll?”

  Effie snatched her large bag from his grasp and slung it over her shoulder. “Gentlemen, I was born ready. Keep up and don’t dawdle.” Her green heels clicked on the tile floor as she all but ran down the hallway.

  Bryce glanced back at Creighton, who was pushing his wheelchair. “God I hope your baby is just like her.”

  Creighton grinned. “Hell, so do I.”

  Chapter 21

  Kenzie was speeding to her death in a silver Rolls-Royce with opera blaring from all eight speakers. Her headache throbbed with each musical beat. She thought her head would explode with each pounding of the timpani drums and hoped to high heaven it would, to end this misery. She’d heard Effie use the expression ‘hell on wheels’; now she understood what it truly meant.

  With a snap of his fingers, Fauste lowered the volume. Still, her ears continued to throb. “What you are listening to, daughter, is the opera Marius et Fanny, written by the Romanian composer Vladimir Cosma. Is it not grand? This performance was repeated several times on the television. I will teach you about your Romanian heritage. There is much to be proud of.”

  “Why, when you’re only going to kill me anyway?” She shifted in her seat, the buttery-soft leather barely squeaking with her movement. “Drain the blood from me and store it in a refrigerator or freeze it fer when ye need it.” Fer God’s sake, if ye must kill me, do it now so I dinna have to put up with yer insanity fer another minute. Besides, without Bryce, I’m as good as dead anyhow.

  “You put very little value on your life, Roza-Kenzie. Ah, you know, I like that.” He nodded, his silver eyes glowing when he spared her a glance. “Yes, I shall call you by both names. One of those modern hyphenated jobs, so you will never forget who you should be and who you once were. No, I shall not let you die. Not until the child is strong and healthy from your milk. You will be able to nurse it for six months before I’ll have need of your blood. You’ll get to play mommy for a few months. A fair trade, yes?” He snapped his fingers again and once more the opera filled the confines of the car and battered the inside of her head.

  “Where are ye taking me? Not that it matters.” She had to get a message to Bryce that she hadna left him of her own free will. She didna want him to think she never loved him.

  Fauste tsked at her a couple times, grating on her nerves all the more. He snapped on the GPS screen. “We’re going to Glasgow, to the airport. I have a private jet waiting, fueled, and ready for takeoff. Then we’ll head for Romania, our motherland.”

  Bryce and Effie were probably wondering where she was. She glanced out the side window as trees and towns whizzed by. Bryce would think she’d left him. He’d start hating her. Every day she’d love him more and he’d love her less. This was irony, wasna it? Now that she kent for sure she wanted to marry the rascal with the quick smile and the deep passion, she was being whisked away from him, never to set eyes on him again.

  Tears blurred her vision before tenacity activated a slow burn in her stomach.

  Was she seriously going to allow herself to become the victim of another sick man?

  Oh no. Oh, hell no.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Fauste, nodding to the music, lost to the strains of the violins, before she glanced out of the passenger window again. This time she smiled. Life with Duncan had made a survivor out of her. Damn if she wouldna give this wizard a run fer his Romanian money. She was Macha Verena, a witch in The Protectors Coven, and she wasna going down without a bloody hellofa fight.

  As fer her pregnancy, this was the figment of a madman’s mind. The first time she and Bryce had unprotected sex was less than four days ago. That was barely time fer the sperm and egg to meet and shake hands, much less join DNA forces. No, Fauste was merely trying to play with her mind. It was time she remembered witches weren’t gullible…they were tricky as hell.

  The weight of Effie’s cell phone in her skirt pocket registered. Her employer’s battery hadna been completely dead, just too low to make many calls. A teenager recently abducted by a sex pervert had been found by her cell phone’s location signal. She’d watched all about it on the news with Mary Kate while they folded laundry together a few days ago. If she kept the phone hidden right where it was, that would be one advantage.

  Kenzie closed her eyes as if she were sleeping and planned some more. How far would the signal reach? Certainly not across the English Channel and Europe to Romania. Perhaps it would be best to leave it at the airport so when or if…No, she couldna think that way. She had to think positive. What did she have left but positive thoughts?

  Just as she was about to board the private plane Fauste had engaged or, fer all she knew, owned, she would stumble and leave the phone on the ground. The signal would lead the police to the runway fer private jets. Then they could check flight plans. If only she could leave a note fer Bryce with it. Having him ken she didna want to leave him was so important. He had to comprehend she loved him more than the next minute of her life…even the last minute.

  She would compose a chant to reach his heart. One only he could hear. The thought was a silly one. The kind many would claim only a numpty-headed fool could have. But there was magic in witchcraft—and in love.

  —

  Ronan took the controls of the helicopter holding Creighton, Hamish, and Neilan, with Bryce’s wheelchair in the back. Kendric helped Effie, Bryce, and Earnan, with all his medical supplies, into the copter equipped with the new tracking system. Once everyone was settled and belted in, Kendric slipped on his headgear and his communication device. Ronan did the same.

  Earnan sat next to Kendric while Effie and Bryce stretched out in the rear seats. She took his hand. “We have much talking to do.”

  He rubbed his thigh, hoping the searing pain would soon subside. “Ye talk for the next few minutes while I listen. Be prepared, though—Kendric is one daredevil pi
lot.”

  At the mention of his name, Kendric shifted in his seat and handed them each headgear. “Put these on. Ye can hear what’s happening, but ye will not be able to talk into them. If it gets too much fer yer fragile nerves”—he pierced Bryce with a smirk—“just hang them around yer neck. I’ll be starting communications with home base, which will be Maisie, our dispatcher, and Ronan now.” He started flipping switches and the rotors came to life, a gentle vibration overtaking the helicopter.

  “Maisie, this is Kendric, pilot one. Pilot two is Ronan. Check in, pilot two.”

  “Pilot two speaking,” Ronan’s strong voice boomed over the headgear. “I’m guessing you’ll be dealing mostly with Kendric, pilot one.”

  “Aye, but thank ye fer giving me a reading on yer voice. ʼTis almost as handsome-sounding as Kendric’s. Pardon me, pilot one.”

  Pilot one gave pilot two the finger. “What do ye have fer me, Maisie?” Kendric kept up a continual flipping of switches as he jotted down figures on a clipboard.

  “The signal is now moving away from Glasgow. West. Still speeding. I’m guessing the driver is heading fer the Glasgow International Airport.”

  Kendric shoved his clipboard between his seat and a control box. “Pilot one taking off.” The metal bird rose and Bryce closed his eyes fer a second, hoping his stomach would behave itself. “Pilot two, you’re cleared fer takeoff in sixty seconds.”

  “Roger, pilot one.”

  “Maisie, contact the airport fer me.” Kendric glanced over his shoulder at Effie and covered his mouthpiece with the curl of his hand. “Would this Fauste have the resources fer a private jet?”

  “He can get whatever he wants. Money is no object.”

  Kendric nodded and removed his hand. “Maisie, check with the traffic controller in charge of the runway fer private jets. See if any of them have filed a flight plan fer this morning. I’m thinking he’ll be headed fer Romania, but check all private takeoffs. Hard to tell where Fauste is planning on taking his abductee.”

  “Copy that.”