Surrender to the Highlander

by Lynsay Sands

  "Punishing you," he said with a nod.

  "Yeah, but hell, I don't know what they have to be angry about. They're the selfish twits who couldn't last two months alone with Mother and dragged her over here. Now they all might be moving here. Plus Dad," she added as an afterthought. "Although, I don't mind Dad. He's great, and Mother behaves a little better when he's around. Problem is he's always off running his 'empire.'"

  "Hmm," G.G. murmured. "So you moved here to get away from your mother, and now she's moving here."

  "Worse than that, Mother told Mortimer this morning that she was going to be a hunter and work with me. I'll have her hovering over me all damned night every night."

  "Wait, wait, wait," G.G. said with confusion. "Lissianna said you got a position at the university, teaching criminology."

  "I did," she said on a sigh. "But it doesn't start until the summer and, even then, it's a part-time gig. I've been volunteering at the Enforcer house, helping to sort through all the tips they get to see what might be real threats and what aren't. I wanted to see if I like it, and if I do, maybe I can work there officially in the future. At least part-time. And I do like it. At least I did, but now . . ."

  "But now if you do work for the enforcers, you'll have your mother working with you," he said with understanding.

  "Yeah," Elspeth sighed the word and then shook her head. "It's my own fault. I should have headed back to the Enforcer house when I got stabbed this morning rather than go home. She never would have known I was working for them if I had," she said, and then frowned and argued her own point, "But it's not like I knew they were at the apartment, so why would I?"

  "Wait, wait, wait," G.G. said with amazement. "You got stabbed this morning?"

  Grimacing, Elspeth nodded. "I stopped to check out a soft call on my way home and a mortal stabbed me in the back and slashed my leg."

  Much to her amazement that made him throw back his head and laugh loudly.

  Elspeth stared at him wide-eyed, noting a little absently how the green strands of his Mohawk caught the bar lights as his head bobbed with laughter. Finally, she scowled and asked, "What's so funny about my getting stabbed?"

  "Oh," he gasped, and shook his head. Making an obvious effort to control his amusement, he waved his hand and finally got out, "No, not your getting stabbed. That's not funny at all, but the fact that you got stabbed this morning and didn't include it as part of why today was your worst day ever is."

  Elspeth blinked, and then sagged where she sat as she understood. He was right. She hadn't even considered the stabbing as part of her rough day. In comparison to the appearance of her mother in her new home, getting stabbed was like a pesky paper cut. Frankly, she'd rather be stabbed every day of her life than have her mother back ruling her.

  "I knew that was blood on your car seat."

  Elspeth swiveled sharply and gaped at the man standing beside her. Wyatt. How the heck had he snuck up on them like that? They should have heard the door open at the very least. Well, unless he entered while G.G. was laughing so uproariously at her misadventures. He must have, she realized and asked, "What are you doing here?"

  "Forget that," he said, waving his hand impatiently. "You were stabbed this morning?"

  Elspeth gaped at him briefly, and then sighed and narrowed her gaze as she concentrated on sending her thoughts out to search his mind, take control and--Whoa! What the hell? Her thoughts were crashing up against a black wall of nothing. Mouth tightening, she redoubled her efforts with the same results.

  "Elspeth?" Wyatt said, frowning now as well. "Answer me. Were you stabbed this morning?"

  "It was nothing," she muttered and slipped off her stool. Mortals weren't really welcome at the Night Club. She had to get him out of there. Casting a regretful glance at her drink, she picked up her wallet and quickly pulled out money, saying, "Thanks, G.G. We'll go now."

  "Finish your drink," both men said at once, and Elspeth glanced from one to the other with surprise. G.G. was looking stern and insistent. He knew she needed the blood and felt she should drink it before she left. Wyatt just looked kind of annoyed. She had no idea why.

  "Finish it," Wyatt repeated. "You had to rush off to have it, so finish it. In fact, I'll have a drink too. A beer," he decided, settling on the neighboring stool. "Because I want to hear about this getting stabbed business where Gran can't overhear and be upset."

  Elspeth hesitated, but then said, "Fine. But we'll have to go somewhere else. The club isn't open yet. Besides, they don't serve alcohol here."

  "What? A Night Club that doesn't serve alcohol?" he asked with open disbelief.

  "Night Club is just the name," she said on a sigh. "It's not a real nightclub. At least, not like your normal nightclub. It's more like a coffee shop. A place where people can gather, relax, and drink . . ."

  "Power drinks," G.G. said when she floundered.

  "Power drinks," Wyatt echoed with disbelief and shook his head. "A night club that serves power drinks instead of alcohol."

  "Yes," Elspeth said, casting G.G. a grateful look.

  "Damn hipsters are ruining everything," Wyatt muttered, and then glanced at her glass. "What's that then? I thought it must be a bloody Mary, but the color isn't quite right and if they only serve power drinks, it--"

  "It's beet juice, tomatoes, kale, spinach, kelp and a bunch of other disgusting things I wouldn't drink if you paid me," G.G. lied glibly, interrupting him.

  "You just sling the drinks and don't consume them yourself, huh?" Wyatt asked with amusement, his mood suddenly lightening . . . although, she wasn't sure why. Had he worried his grandmother had rented to a lush?

  "Pretty much," G.G. said solemnly. "Elspeth's right, we aren't open yet, but she needs a few more power drinks to help her heal, so I'll mix you up a power drink too if you like. Or I keep some soft drinks here for myself. Some Coke, Ginger ale, maybe some Root beer. What'll it be? A power drink or--?"

  "A Coke," Wyatt said firmly. "Thanks."

  Nodding, G.G. grabbed a glass, threw some ice in it and then retrieved a can of Coke from the refrigerator under the counter and poured it as he carried it back to them. He set it in front of Wyatt, and then nodded at Elspeth's drink.

  "Knock it back and I'll get you another, Elspeth. You obviously lost a lot of blood this morning and need it," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

  Grimacing, she did as he instructed. The moment she set the empty glass down, G.G. whisked it away and moved off to prepare another . . . at the other end of the bar. He was being careful that Wyatt not see what he was working with, she realized and glanced nervously toward the windows to see that the day was waning, but slowly. Still, other immortals would start arriving the moment the sun was gone and then Wyatt's presence would be a problem.

  "Who stabbed you and where?"

  Wyatt's question drew her attention back to him and she grimaced. "It was during work. I was checking out a tip and encountered a mentally ill man. He attacked his wife and then stabbed me when I rushed to help her."

  "I meant where on your person were you stabbed?" he said grimly. "There was blood on your car seat."

  "Oh." She grimaced, but admitted, "He stabbed me in the lower left side of my back, and slashed my left leg."

  His gaze immediately slid to her side, but of course he couldn't see anything through her clothes and jacket. Even if she'd been sitting there naked there wouldn't have been much to see. When she'd got up that evening the wound had healed to the point that it was a large, dark, ugly scar. She'd needed more blood for the healing to continue. Elspeth could feel it happening again now that she'd had more blood. It was like someone was repeatedly jabbing her with a handful of needles in the spot. Most unpleasant, and she was holding herself very still to try to keep from flinching or otherwise give away that she was in pain.

  "And you aren't in the hospital because . . . ?" he asked dryly.

  "Because it was just a flesh wound, a scratch really," she lied. Actually, it had been pretty ba
d. Were she mortal she would have bled out within minutes. Fortunately, she wasn't mortal.

  Elspeth glanced at Wyatt and saw that he was shaking his head. Scowling, she asked, "What?"

  "I didn't realize your job was so dangerous," he admitted, his gaze on his glass as he turned it on the counter top. "Gran made it sound like your position was mostly analytical. A desk job."

  "It is." Elspeth said, and glanced toward G.G. wishing he'd hurry. The sooner she finished this next drink, the sooner she could get Wyatt out of there. It would have been easier if she could have slipped into his thoughts, rearranged them, and sent him back to his grandmother's without recalling any of this, though. The thought made her turn to peer at him again to try to do just that. Nothing. She just kept coming up against a black wall of nothing. Either the man was brain dead, or--

  Elspeth shied away from the "or" and smiled in gratitude at G.G. as he returned with her blood. Aware of the man beside her and the time crunch, Elspeth downed half of it at once, careful not to come away with a blood mustache afterward.

  "But you got stabbed," Wyatt pointed out. "How did you get stabbed working a desk job?"

  "There are some days when stuff happens and I end up going out on calls. This morning was one of those days," Elspeth said vaguely, and cast a pleading glance G.G.'s way, hoping he'd change the subject. He did. Just not to a subject she liked any better.

  "So what are you going to do about your mother?" he asked abruptly.

  "Her mother?" Wyatt asked G.G. with interest and then turned to Elspeth. "What about your mother?"

  "Nothing. She's just a little overprotective," she said firmly, and scowled at G.G. as she picked up her drink.

  "Martine is more than a little overprotective," G.G. told Wyatt as Elspeth drank. Apparently, he hadn't got the silent message behind the scowl, she decided as he went on, "She's a control freak and almost obsessive-compulsive about keeping her daughters near her. They've all led very sheltered lives."

  "She's not that bad," Elspeth countered, which was an absolute lie. Martine Argeneau Pimms wasn't almost obsessive-compulsive about keeping her daughters near her, she was full on, certifiably obsessive-compulsive about it.

  "Really?" Wyatt asked G.G., apparently believing him over her, which was kind of ironic when she thought about it. He trusted the big tattooed bartender with a Mohawk over a clean-cut woman he believed worked for the police. Go figure.

  Maybe he had trust issues with women, Elspeth thought.

  "Oh, yeah," G.G. told him. "Martine wouldn't let them out of her sight for a minute as kids. All three girls were home schooled until university. Never let out of the house. Never allowed friends."

  "We had our cousins," Elspeth argued stiffly.

  "Whom you saw once every couple of years or so," G.G. said dryly.

  "How do you know that?" Elspeth asked with surprise.

  "Julianna," G.G. said at once and then grinned and added, "Did you think you were the only member of your family to skip uni classes at least once a week and slip away to the Night Club to hang out with other im--club members," he finished, catching his own slip with a grimace.

  "Damn," Elspeth breathed. It had never even occurred to her that her sisters might skip classes. It should have, she supposed. Elspeth had made a practice of signing up for an extra class every term. She'd show her mother her schedule once she got it, and then cancel the extra class. Her mother would think she was in university during that time, while she was actually at the Night Club chatting with G.G., or at a movie, or just shopping, taking time for herself. However, when G.G. had asked how she'd managed to slip away from her mother the first time they'd chatted, she'd simply said she was supposed to be in class.

  She didn't explain it now, either, but simply set her empty glass on the bar top and glanced to Wyatt as she slid off her stool. "We should go. You have to pick up flowers for Meredith."

  "He can go, but you're not going anywhere, Elspeth," G.G. said firmly, and then picking up her empty glass, he added, "You're looking better, but you need at least two more of these before you go anywhere."

  "Fine," she snapped a bit irritated at all this bossing about. It was like being with her mother. That thought made her scowl at Wyatt as she said, "I'll have two more. But you should go before Meredith worries."

  "I called and explained things before I came in here." He smiled like the cat that caught the canary and said, "I can keep you company while you have your power drinks."

  That brought a soft chuckle from G.G. as he moved to the other end of the bar to fetch her another "drink."

  Elspeth hesitated, wanting to just walk out and leave, but in the end, she sank back onto her stool. G.G. was right. She was feeling better, but still cramping and achy. Two more of the twenty-ounce glasses should see her right.

  "Those power drinks really seem to be working," Wyatt commented now, peering at her face. "You are looking a little better. You have more color in your cheeks. Maybe I should try one of those drinks myself."

  Elspeth's eyes widened with alarm, and then she asked abruptly, "What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"

  "Yes," he admitted without hesitation and when she gaped at him, Wyatt shrugged and said, "Look, Gran's already been burned once by a tenant who was supposed to be a friend, and she nearly fell for that iTunes scam too. Now there's you who already has a key to her apartment." Scowling, he added, "And then . . ." He paused briefly, several expressions flashing across his face and simply said, "Once I saw the blood on your car seat I was suspicious, and followed you to make sure you weren't up to no good."

  Elspeth stared at him. Between the expressions that had crossed his face and the way he'd hesitated, she suspected he was leaving out something. Had he overheard the argument she'd had with her mother in front of the house?

  "Elspeth up to no good?" G.G. asked with amusement as he returned to place two tall blue glasses in front of her this time.

  "He thinks I'm after his grandmother's money," Elspeth explained quietly as she picked up one of the drinks.

  G.G. snorted at the suggestion. "Elspeth's family has money. Loads of it. Besides, like I said, she's led a pretty sheltered life. I think your grandmother's money is safe."

  Wyatt considered G.G. briefly and said, "So, a beautiful young creature like Elspeth is really just friends with my very sweet, but very old grandmother because . . . ?"

  Elspeth blinked and blushed. Did he really think she was beautiful? Aware that G.G. was grinning at her reaction with amusement, she raised her glass and hid her red face by chugging down the blood he'd just brought her. Chugging was better. Elspeth wasn't especially keen on the taste of blood. She preferred consuming it from the bag where you didn't have to taste it at all.

  "I'd imagine she's more comfortable around older people," G.G. said as she drank. "She's spent very little time around young people. Instead, most of her life has been spent around the very old."

  Elspeth almost snorted at G.G.'s words. He wasn't kidding. Most everyone in her life was well over two or three hundred years old. Heck, she herself was twice as old as Wyatt's grandmother. In comparison, Merry was a youngster. Setting down the now empty glass, Elspeth slid it toward G.G. and wrapped her hand around the other glass he'd brought her.

  "Hmm," Wyatt murmured, and then before she could lift the second glass, asked, "Is that why you rented from her? Because she was older and you were comfortable around her? No other reason?"

  Elspeth rolled her eyes at the question. "I didn't know your grandmother was the landlady when I rented the apartment. I didn't know who owned it at all. I found and applied for it while still in England. I've always loved old Victorian houses, and there were pictures of the front of your grandmother's house with the listing on the internet. It . . ." Elspeth grimaced. Not sure why, but unwilling to tell him that it had looked familiar to her, like home for some reason. Instead, she said, "It looked charming and homey."

  "She advertised on the internet?" Wyatt asked with surprise.
"Gran doesn't have a computer."

  "Meredith uses a Management company to rent the apartments," she explained. "They posted the pictures and a description on a rental website. They're whom I dealt with."

  "So you didn't pick my grandmother?" he asked slowly. "That was just a coincidence?"

  Elspeth had no idea what he meant by coincidence, but assured him, "I didn't know about Merry owning or living there until the day I arrived when she introduced herself and offered me a plate of cookies as a welcome gift." Glancing to G.G., she added, "Merry makes some killer cookies."

  "Yeah, she does," Wyatt said with a faint grin.

  "You're making me jealous," G.G. said with a sigh. "Mom used to make great cookies too, but she and Alfred travel so much now . . ." He shrugged, and then commented, "I was wondering why you hadn't bought instead of rented, but if you had to arrange it all from England . . ."

  Elspeth nodded. "I would never buy a house or condo without seeing it first. So, I planned to rent for a year or so while I checked out the city and where I might want to live, and then buy later," she said, which was true. But she also hadn't bought because she hadn't been at all sure her escape plan might work. There had always been the chance that her mother might have caught a stray thought of hers, realized what she was doing, and put an end to it.

  Fortunately, she hadn't. But now Martine was here, in her apartment, and planning to move to Toronto as well. There was a good possibility that Victoria was right and her mother would try to make her move into whatever house she and father bought here.

  Elspeth lowered her glass and bit her lip at the thought, but then recalled how she'd been able to resist her mother's mind control efforts today. Martine had managed to make her stop, briefly, in her apartment, but hadn't been able to make her stay until she'd got close enough to touch her on the stairs, and then she hadn't been able to stop her at all during her second attempt to leave. The pain she'd been suffering had helped her to push past her mother's efforts to take control. At least, Elspeth thought that must be how she'd managed to escape. If it was, she might have to stab herself once a day to make sure she could have a life not controlled by her mother.

  Elspeth considered that as she downed the last of the blood. She'd have to keep a knife on her at all times, and maybe stab herself each morning before she left her room. That way, her mother couldn't sink her hooks into her mind and control her life. It didn't sound pleasant, but hopefully she wouldn't have to do it long before her mother gave up and stopped trying to control her.