Going Back for Romeo
Page 28
Quinn was content with the irony that Morna was neither dead, nor his sister, but was living happily ever after in the twenty-first century.
And if Isobelle, Morna’s sister, danced, it wasn’t with the devil as she, too, was alive and well.
And if Quinn was about to die, history would play out as it should, and no one would know the Gordons would be killing the wrong man.
Chapter One
Juliet Ross huddled between two prickly bushes and tried like hell to blend in with the scenery. She didn’t have to run anymore -- well, for a while anyhow -- but her legs kept twitching, letting her know they were poised for flight at the first sign of danger.
Good to know.
Below her, Castle Ross protruded out of an ancient hill, a massive limb reaching from its grave toward the heavens, but falling short of the goal. Even as she perused the rough structure from her concealed perch on the hillside, a stone tumbled away from the West wall now painted liberally with the orange light of the setting sun. She raised her field glasses to see what might have shaken loose a building block studiously placed hundreds of years ago...and stared into another set of lenses.
She gasped and dropped the binoculars. They twisted and turned from the strap around her neck while she wrestled with the panic in her chest. Without their aid, she watched a pale blue form quiver on the battlements. The form split in two while she fumbled to bring the damned glasses back to her eyes. If they were ghosts, she didn't want them disappearing if she looked away for even a second.
Ghosts. If she’d been seen by ghosts, she wasn’t really busted, was she? Who would they tell?
If for some reason they knew what she’d come here to do, they couldn’t stop her. They couldn’t scare her away; the people she’d just escaped were a lot scarier, even if Freddie Freaking Kruger were manning the crumbling walls.
The FBI was staffed by a bunch of mean sons-o-bitches, and if she could wiggle out of their grasp, a couple of Scottish ghosts shouldn’t even raise her heart rate.
With binoculars back in place and her eyes adjusted to the distance, she followed the top of the wall back to where the blue forms were standing. Two very identical old ladies, every visible inch of them blue and gray, were fighting over a pair of binoculars. The one on the right was sure to win since the strap was still secured around her neck. Every time the one on the left would pull at the prize, her twin was pulled forward.
Juliet would have laughed, but the panic was back in her chest. Ghosts may not blab, but old ladies did. It would ruin everything if those two got her barred from the premises before she got to the new lady of the house.
She inched back into a thick cluster of pines, hoping against hope that the warring ancients weren’t sure what they’d seen. She steadied the boughs bouncing around her and looked through the binoculars once more.
The women were no longer fighting and the one on the left was gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb. Thank goodness she wasn’t pointing in Juliet’s direction! The other took the strap from around her neck and handed over the binoculars. She looked over her sister’s shoulder while that one turned and aimed her lenses up at the road running along the high ridge behind Castle Ross.
Whatever it was, the sisters found it fascinating, and Juliet dared hope that the old gals would completely forget about her. When the sisters suddenly ducked down behind the wall, Juliet swung her own binoculars up toward the road to see what had scared her would-be ghosts.
The trees were in the way. She had to inch out a bit, but kept well below the boughs that would give away her progress. A prickly branch reached out and snagged her coat, as if it would hold her back, but she unhooked a thorn from her black leather coat, smoothed over the hole it made, then crawled forward, grateful for the lengthening and deepening of the evening shadows around her.
At first, all she could see was a car tire with a shiny hubcap. She kept losing track of them between branches heavy with pine cones and lush masses of needles. When she pulled the glasses aside to get a natural perspective, she realized the car was well off the road. Intentionally hidden. From the Castle? From the old ladies?
Once again through binoculars, Juliet followed the hill down from the car. Spindly black legs appeared, the ends delving deep in green grass. A tripod. Then, a man’s knees as he squatted before it.
All the panic in her chest jumped out in a single sob. She covered her mouth and held her breath until she realized she was too far away for him to have heard her.
A Gabados. It had to be.
Acknowledgements
Thank you, Cori Deyoe of Three Seas Lit, for falling for ROMEO. And thanks to the Utah RWA nuts who never leave me alone on the roller coaster. Here we go again! Arms and legs inside at all times...
Yawp!
About the Author
L. L. Muir lives with Superman in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains. They are raising numerous super-heroes for society, but none will wear tights. Currently, she writes Scottish historicals and paranormal fiction for both adult and young adult readers. She is represented by Three Seas Literary Agency.
Watch for the next Muir Witch Project, AVENGING JULIET, the story of Quinn Ross and the Juliet who stumbles across his heart while seeking a bit of justice.
Table of Contents
Book Description: Going Back for Romeo
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THRITY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THRITY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
PROLOGUE
Chapter One
About the Author