The Highlander Next Door

by Janet Chapman

  But hell, it had to beat talking to himself.

  Niall eventually stopped and turned around by repeatedly driving the truck’s nose and tailgate into the bushes until he was facing the way he’d come, then backed up the narrow road and stopped between two large trees to cut off Vaughn’s escape route. He tossed the key on the floor as he got out ahead of Shep, deciding to leave his means of escape unlocked on the chance he’d have to tell Birch to make a run for it, then patted his leg to signal his first officer to stay beside him and broke into a ground-eating lope.

  Spotting the unpainted two-story house a short while later, Niall veered into the woods and crouched on the edge of the clearing—Shep standing beside him on full alert, the dog’s nostrils flaring like a blacksmith’s bellows—and took note of the fairly new pickup and short-bodied logging truck parked next to a barn. But except for a large workhorse and two young cattle grazing in a small field and a dozen or so chickens milling about the yard, the place appeared deserted.

  The only thing wrong with the peaceful scene was the heaviness he felt in the air, reminding Niall of the aftermath of hard and bloody battles when the deafening peal of clashing swords and screams of men would suddenly give way to an eerie silence. He stood up and reached under the back of his jacket and pulled out the compact pistol, jacked a shell into the chamber and checked the safety, then returned the weapon to the holster tucked inside his belt at the small of his back. He may have reached the advanced age of thirty-three without needing a gun, but then, he’d never really had to worry about anyone shooting at him nine hundred years ago, either.

  “You go first,” he said, nudging Shep with his knee. “Try to look pathetic and lost,” he added, only to sigh when the dog bolted for the house.

  Figuring Shep’s nose had told him everything they needed to know, Niall sprinted across the clearing and followed the dog along the side of the house and up onto the porch. He opened the screen door but hesitated, looking around the yard as he slowly twisted the knob, fully aware he needed a warrant to enter a person’s house uninvited. But if that person had left in a hurry without tightly closing the door, he decided when Shep gave an impatient growl, and the wind blew it open and a man’s dog ran inside . . . well, going in to retrieve his dog was the neighborly thing to do. Especially since Shep appeared certain there wasn’t anyone waiting inside with a gun.

  Aye, Vaughn should be more mindful about locking up behind himself, because the door suddenly swung back on its hinges and his four-legged first officer charged inside. Giving up all pretense of being neighborly, Niall stepped into a sparse and obscenely neat kitchen all but humming with that same oppressive silence.

  Well, it was silent but for the sound of Shep scratching at another door. Niall spotted the thick wooden bar being held in place by two metal brackets and grinned in relief, since he couldn’t see any reason to lock a door unless whoever was on the other side was perfectly fine and likely spitting mad. He lifted the bar and cracked open the door, half expecting Birch to come charging toward him armed with her bear spray, only to find nothing but dark, musty air on the other side. “Stay,” he told Shep as he slowly opened the door to reveal a stairway leading down to a cellar.

  But still no spitfire.

  Forget driving him crazy; the woman was determined to kill him with worry.

  Niall bit back a curse when Shep bolted past him and all but tripped down the stairs in his eagerness to get to the bottom. “We’re going to have to work on that stay command,” he muttered, following more slowly as the old steps bowed and creaked under his weight, stopping when he reached the bottom to let his eyes adjust to the stingy sunlight streaming through a small window in the fieldstone foundation.

  Following the sound of claws scratching against wood again, Niall found Shep trying to tear his way through another door, this one apparently locked from the inside. Aye, Sam may have a point about policemen needing opposable thumbs, Niall decided as he gave the door a sharp tug—only to find himself scrambling to catch Birch when she exploded toward him.

  “Sweet God, woman, it’s me,” he said, folding her into a fierce hug as he closed his eyes in relief and merely weathered her ineffectual blows. “You’re okay now, Birch. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  Either he finally got through to her or she finally wore herself out, because she suddenly went as still as a stone. “Oh mon Dieu, I thought you were Ike Vaughn. Ah . . . you can let me down now.”

  Not that she felt ready to be let down, since she was hugging him back just as fiercely. “Would ye mind much if I held you a bit longer?” he said, slowly turning to look for something to sit on. “Just until I stop shaking?” Sweeping his arm under her knees when she leaned away, Niall sat on an old wooden trunk with her in his lap. “I’m serious,” he said, cutting off her protest. “Ye gave me quite a scare.”

  Her face flushing, Birch looked down when Shep nudged her hand, and Niall couldn’t help but notice she let the dog lick her fingers. “I’m sorry I attacked you,” she whispered, darting him a quick glance before returning her attention to Shep. “I thought you were Misty’s father coming back to . . . to . . . I’m sorry I hit you.”

  “I’m not,” Niall said with a chuckle. “I was relieved ye came out swinging. What I’m referring to is the scare ye gave me when I saw your car at the brook but then got here and found the place empty.” He nodded at Shep when Birch looked up in surprise. “Ye have the pooch to thank for sniffing you out.”

  She looked down again, this time giving Shep’s ear a scratch. “I wouldn’t really ever spray him,” she said, finally relaxing into Niall.

  “Speaking of your bear spray, where is it?”

  “In my jacket on a peg upstairs. How did you know to come looking for me?”

  “Your mum got worried when you didn’t answer your cell phone, and she told Peg where you had gone this morning and why. May I ask where your phone is?”

  “In my jacket with the spray.” She finally looked up, and Niall felt the knot in his chest finish loosening when he saw a spark of fire return to her eyes. “Are you going to arrest Ike Vaughn for locking me down here?”

  “Did he hurt you, Birch?”

  The woman went from relaxed to deflated. “No. He certainly hollered a lot, but he never touched me. He just dragged Misty upstairs and locked the door.”

  “You were already down here, then?”

  “Mrs. Vaughn—her name is Sally—was alone when I arrived. She invited me inside when she saw my pants and boots were wet, and took my jacket and hung it on a peg by the door and made me tea.”

  “So Misty wasn’t home?”

  Birch pointed at a small bed in the far corner. “I didn’t know it at the time, but she’s apparently been locked down here for the last week. When I asked Sally where Misty was, the woman went deathly pale and asked how I knew her. Figuring I wasn’t disclosing anything she didn’t already know, I told her what Misty’s friend had told me this morning and explained that I could bring her daughter back to the shelter with me. I also told her that once Misty was settled, I could sit down with her and her husband and we could discuss their . . . options. Have you stopped shaking yet?”

  “Almost. So Mrs. Vaughn brought you down here?”

  Birch snapped her head up. “Don’t you even think about arresting her. Sally was hoping I could help Misty.” She took a calming breath and went back to fingering Shep’s ear. “While we were having tea, I explained what the Crisis Center is all about, and Sally asked if it was only for young pregnant girls. And when I told her it’s for any woman who feels threatened, I got the impression she wanted to come to the shelter, too. The three of us were down here when Ike came home. Sally had said he was working up back in the woods. You don’t feel like you’re shaking.”

  In truth, Niall was surprised she’d let him hold her this long, which had him believing that even though Vaughn hadn’t actually
touched her, the bastard sure as hell had scared her. “Aye, I’m feeling much better now,” he said, pushing Shep out of the way and lifting Birch to her feet, only to realize that now his pants were damp, too. He stood up and walked to the corner, his gut tightening when he saw Sally Vaughn’s attempts to make her daughter’s prison comfortable, noting the colorful quilt and stuffed animals, the tiny radio on the nightstand, and the worn rug on the dirt floor beside the bed. “How long ago did the Vaughns leave?” he asked, remembering he hadn’t met a vehicle on his way in or seen any sign that one had driven out the road this morning.

  “About half an hour ago. They’re probably all the way to Turtleback by now.”

  “Did you hear a vehicle leave? There’s still a pickup in the yard.”

  Her eyes widened and she looked toward the stairs—even as she sidled closer to him, Niall couldn’t help but notice. “He’s coming back,” she whispered, hugging herself. “He’s stashing them in the woods and coming back to deal with me.”

  Aye, judging by her reaction, the altercation with Hazel’s fourth husband wasn’t the only time Birch had found herself dealing with an angry man. “He’d best be bringing a small army with him, then.”

  “You should let him see you’re armed,” she rushed on, pulling open his jacket. “Your holster’s empty!”

  Instead of responding, Niall pushed Birch behind his back when Shep gave an ominous growl seconds before loud footsteps stormed into the kitchen and the cellar doorway darkened with the silhouette of a male.

  “What the—Shep?” the man said in surprise, slamming the door closed just as the dog reached the top of the stairs. “Niall, are you down there?” the now-muffled voice continued through the door.

  “Is that you, Reggie?” Niall asked, heading up the rickety stairs to the sound of the heavy wooden bar sliding into place. “Dammit, boy, don’t lock the door.”

  “Did you talk to Misty this morning?” the teenager said through the wood.

  “Nay, she left with her father and mother nearly an hour ago.” Niall crowded past Shep and pushed against the door. “What are ye doing here, son? Have you been seeing Vaughn’s daughter?”

  “He’s going to kill her.”

  “Then unlock the door so I can help you go after her.”

  “I don’t need your help. I only came to get the bag Misty packed so we can run away. We were supposed to leave tonight, but she texted me and said some lady showed up here this morning and that her father caught them.”

  “She has a cell phone?” Birch cried out as she raced up the stairs, making the old stairway groan and shudder under the added weight.

  “Shep, go down,” Niall said, freezing in place as the dog scrambled away.

  “Reggie,” Birch continued, apparently oblivious to the danger, “are you the baby’s father?”

  “I need to go,” the boy said instead of answering. “Misty’s old man is crazy and I don’t know what he’ll do to her. Her last text said she thought he was taking her and her mom to an old logging camp up at Spellbound Stream’s headwaters. I’m sorry, Niall, but I can’t let you stop me.”

  “I have no intention of stopping you; only helping.”

  “You’ll get out of here eventually,” Reggie went on, “but I need to buy some time before you can tell Julia. I . . . I’m sorry.”

  “Wait!” Birch cried. “Reggie, I—we want to help you. Misty’s mom is in danger, too. And Shep might be able to lead us to them. He can follow their scent.”

  “You that lady from the Crisis Center?”

  “Yes. I’m Birch Callahan. Think about this, Reggie. What can you possibly do all by yourself when you catch up with them? We can—”

  “You ruined everything! I gave Misty a cell phone a couple of months ago, but it won’t work in the cellar, and she could only call me when they let her come up to take a shower. I was gonna help her escape tonight, but then you showed up. I know where she’s going and can contact her when it’s time to make a run for it.”

  “You’ll never make it back to your truck being chased by a seasoned woodsman,” Niall told him. “Let—”

  “I came straight up the mountain on my four-wheeler just as soon as I got Misty’s text,” the boy said, cutting him off.

  “Let us help ye, son,” Niall continued calmly. “You’re no match for Ike Vaughn.” He suddenly stiffened. “Did ye bring a gun with you, Reggie?”

  “What? No! Having Misty’s old man after us is bad enough; I don’t need the sheriff looking for us, too.” He hesitated. “Or you.”

  “What about your brother-in-law?” Niall drawled. “Because if you believe you can outrun Nicholas, I’m thinking Ike Vaughn may be the least of your worries. Unlock the door and let me go after them alone. I’ll bring your girl back.”

  It turned silent for several heartbeats, and Niall was aware of Birch holding her breath and clutching his arm, her other hand pressed to her bosom.

  “Even Nicholas won’t find us,” Reggie said, sounding like he was backing away just as a cell phone chimed, followed by another silence and then a curse. “The bastard is on one of his rants and Misty’s scared,” the boy hissed, the stairs they were standing on shuddering as he ran out of the house.

  “Reggie!” Birch shouted, banging on the door. “Reggie, wait!

  “Sweet Christ, woman, don’t—”

  Niall’s petition ended on a deafening snap, and all he could do was twist to take the brunt of the fall when the old stairway collapsed. But no sooner had they landed when Birch was shoving against him and scrambling to her feet, making Niall wonder if his ears were ringing from a blow to the head or from her screaming what he assumed were French curses.

  Hell, even Shep was looking more stunned by her reaction than by the crash.

  “You stupid little shit!” she shouted up at the door. “Don’t you dare leave us down here!” She rounded on Niall as he shoved away a section of stairs, and actually tried hauling him to his feet. “Hurry up,” she snapped when he apparently didn’t move fast enough. “We need to stop that idiot. Reggie!” she shouted again as Niall stood up, his jaw going slack when she grabbed a broken piece of wood and hurled it up at the door. “You get your sorry ass back here!”

  Okay then; it would appear Miss Callahan had more than just her bloomers in a twist at the moment. Niall pulled out his cell phone, but then shoved it back in his pocket when he couldn’t find a signal. Seeing her reaching for a piece of broken handrail as she started in on her French litany again, he headed toward the small window on the far wall—partly to hide his grin but mostly worried she might find him an equally satisfying target. Shep also beat a hasty retreat, apparently deciding now wasn’t the time for a game of tug-of-war. “Is cussing out whoever’s cooperation you’re trying to get,” Niall asked conversationally, “something they taught you at university?”

  Birch stormed over with the handrail clutched in her fist and glared up at him, the filtered sunlight exposing her flushed face. “I have little patience for macho idiots who think every problem can be solved with brute force. Who in hell is Reggie, anyway?”

  “Reggie Campbell is Julia Salohcin’s baby brother. By macho idiots, would you be referring to men?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she apparently tried to read his expression. “What did you mean when you said that if Reggie thinks he can outrun Julia’s husband, then Ike Vaughn will be the least of his worries?”

  Niall stepped past her to study the window. “Olivia didn’t hire Nicholas as head of her security because he’s pretty.” Realizing even a pint-sized spitfire wouldn’t fit through the window, Niall turned his attention to the fieldstones around it. “So is it your contention that all men are macho idiots or just us hulking brutes?” he asked as he ran his fingers over the mortar holding the stones together.

  “Are you going to get us out of here or not? Because it’s obvious neither
of us will fit through that window.” She used the handrail to gesture at the empty stairwell. “We need to find something to stand on and break through the door.”

  Niall went back to studying the stones. “Near as I can tell, that door is the most solid thing in this house,” he said, having to raise his voice when she stormed off in another heartfelt string of curses.

  “What kind of cop runs around with an empty holster, anyway?” she muttered from somewhere behind him. “If you had your stupid gun, you could just shoot the door open. Well? You intend to look out that window until hell freezes over or are you going to help me find a way out of here?”

  Niall turned in time to see her kick at the pile of broken stairs, and folded his arms over his chest as he faced her. “Since it appears we’ll be working together in the future to protect your residents, there are two things ye might want to know about me.”

  She marched back over to him. “And they are?”

  “The first is that contrary to my usual sunny nature, ye may notice that I slow down and grow quieter in direct proportion to the urgency of a situation. And if I go completely silent . . . well, ye might want to stop talking and start cooperating.”

  Up went that defensive chin. “Or what; you’ll turn violent?”

  Niall stifled a sigh, reminding himself the woman had a chip on her shoulder concerning males. “Nay. I’m saying that I find I’m more effective when I’m quiet.” He dropped his arms and stepped closer, this time stifling a grin when she held her ground. “And right now I could use your help getting us out of here sometime before Reggie catches up with Vaughn. And,” he continued when she tried to say something, “the quickest way out is through the foundation.”

  “How is going through rock quicker than busting through wood?”

  He turned and started pulling off some of the brittle mortar around the larger of the boulders below the window. “Ye may not have noticed, but I’m Scots, and finding a castle’s weakness is in our blood. So with my knowledge of stonework”—he looked over his shoulder and grinned—“and a good deal of brute force, I can have us out of here in no time, providing I can hear the sound the stones make.”