“Is he mentally disturbed?” Megan said. “Is he capable of speech? Should he be out without supervision? Please, tell me there aren’t a bunch of guys wearing white coats running around Invertary trying to return him to his own special institution.” She turned to Grunt. “Mountain man, do you normally wear a jacket that buckles in the back? Think hard. Are you usually in a white room? Alone? With padded walls?”
Grunt frowned at her, while Joe laughed hard. “No, he isn’t insane. He’s just Grunt. Come on, let’s go get a coffee, and some food. I need to eat and we all need to talk.”
Megan linked her arm through Claire’s and firmly yanked her away from Grunt. His hand held fast and Claire felt like the rope in a tug-of-war. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
Grunt growled at Megan, who backed up a step. His eyes softened when he looked down at Claire.
“I won’t hurt you.” His words and manner were so earnest that Claire found herself believing him. She relaxed slightly, casting a nervous glance at her sister.
“Glad we’ve got that sorted,” Joe said. “Let’s go back to the pub and get some food.”
Warily, they turned back towards the big white building. The tortured sound of more locals killing popular songs wafted on the cool night air. As Claire stepped back into the restaurant area of the hotel pub, Grunt leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“I would never hurt you.” He paused as she shivered. “But I am keeping you,” he vowed.
Claire tripped at the words. Instead of curling up with a good book, she’d become the unwilling pet of a Neanderthal wannabe.
11
For the first time in his police career, Matt was pleased that Scotland didn’t issue its officers with firearms. He was pleased, because if he’d had a gun on him, he would have shot Bob the butcher. Not somewhere life threatening. Just in a place he didn’t use much. Like his brain.
“How about you go watch Jena from outside the house,” Bob said. “Sit in your car. I’ve got the inside of the house covered. Nothing will happen to her while I’m with her.” He leered at Jena. “Nothing she doesn’t want to happen, anyway.”
Matt folded his arms and leaned on the edge of the desk he’d commandeered in the living room area of Bob’s house. The whole bottom floor of the house was open plan, making it easy for Matt to keep an eye on the kitchen and dining area from the spot he’d picked. Jena was currently sitting on a high stool at the breakfast bar, her legs crossed, sipping a margarita. It was in the biggest glass Matt had ever seen. No, not a glass, a freaking goldfish bowl. There had to be a whole bottle of tequila in that one glass. From the looks of it, Bob had gone easy on the lime and heavy on the alcohol. Talk about an obvious attempt to get his date drunk.
“I’m fine here.” He used his official voice. The one that brooked no argument. “Just doing my job. Pretend I’m not here.” Yeah, he really hoped Bob wasn’t able to pull that off.
The guy looked ready to spit fireballs. “Give me a break here. Would you like a chaperone on your date?”
“I’m not a chaperone. Do what you like.” He pointed to his laptop. “I brought paperwork to keep me busy.”
Bob clenched his fists before making a clear effort to relax his shoulders. He flashed a wide, fake smile. “Whatever you want, Matt. You want to play the voyeur, then sit back and enjoy the show.” He winked. “You might learn something.”
He sauntered back to Jena, leaving Matt to mentally go through a list of offences to see if there was one he could charge the guy with. He came up empty.
Matt focused on the report on the screen in front of him. It was busywork. Irrelevant. Not that it mattered what he was working on. His complete attention was on the other side of the room. He heard Jena give a high-pitched, girly giggle that was obviously fake, and frowned at her. She made bug eyes in his direction. He almost smiled, and then Bob trailed a finger over Jena’s bare shoulder and Matt’s humour evaporated.
“Best steak in Scotland,” the moron was saying, “probably in the world.”
Jena seemed to cast around for something to say. “Did you, ah, cut it yourself?”
Bob puffed up his chest, acting like he’d invented the bloody wheel. “Sure did, sweetheart. The key to a great steak is in the cut. It isn’t the amount of meat, it’s the marbling that gives it the flavour…” Matt tuned Bob out as he waxed lyrical about the perfect steak.
He allowed himself a smug smile. Bob definitely wasn’t going to get a second date. Not if the glazed look on Jena’s face was anything to go by.
“You made the place really pretty, Bob,” Jena said, interrupting his lecture on the best ways to tenderise meat. “I love the candles.”
Bob stroked a hand down Jena’s hair, making Matt clench his jaw so hard it almost locked in place.
“Got to make an effort for a beautiful girl,” Bob said.
Pass the bucket—it was time to vomit.
Jena tittered again. Why couldn’t Bob tell her laugh was fake? And candles? Big deal. Anyone could light a few candles. Plus, what guy in his right mind bought chubby pink ones? Matt felt a little growl escape him. Jena cast him an angry glance. He scoffed at her. She glared at him before flashing a wide smile at Bob and picking up her bucket of tequila.
“Why don’t we sit outside for a little bit? It’s such a nice night.”
The smarmy smile Bob shot Matt made his fists clench. “Great idea, sweetheart.”
Matt stood, ready to follow.
“Stay,” Bob ordered.
Matt cocked an eyebrow. “Do I look like a poodle? I don’t think so.” Matt folded his arms. “Where she goes, I go.”
Jena stared at the ceiling. “For heaven’s sake…” She stomped towards him as best she could on her killer heels. The tub of tequila-heavy margarita sloshed around in her hand.
“You don’t need to follow us,” she whispered through another fake smile.
Her eyes were blazing. She was seriously cute when she was pissed, kind of like a hissing kitten.
“Yes, I do. I’m here to protect you.”
“Not from Bob!” She kept her voice low. “How am I supposed to get to know him if you’re hanging over us all the time?”
“What’s to know? He’s full of himself. That’s it. Whole story. Move on.”
She pursed her lips. He thought she might hit him, but instead she swivelled on her heels and strode away from him. Flashing those luscious legs and reminding him again that she shouldn’t have worn that dress.
“Come on, Bob, we can’t get rid of him, so let’s pretend he’s invisible.” Jena cast an irritated look over her shoulder at Matt.
And that was when it happened.
Her heel caught in the 1970s faux-shag rug and she lurched forward. Bob reached for her. The margarita flew through the air, soaking Bob. He cursed loudly. Jena reached for the breakfast bar to break her fall. Two candles went flying. One hit Bob.
And the butcher went up in flames.
Matt had been rushing to catch Jena when Bob screamed. He changed direction. He lunged at Bob, tackling him down onto the ugly rug. A second later he had the guy rolled up like a sausage in pastry. The flames were out. The rug smouldered around Bob, who was sobbing hysterically.
Jena fell to her knees beside the butcher, patting his face gently. His head and feet were the only parts of him not rolled in rug.
“I am so sorry.”
Jena’s voice trembled. She was clearly in shock. Matt eyed her with worry. He’d seen her during the aftermath of many a disastrous date. She’d never been this upset before. But then, she’d never set a guy on fire before either. As he dialled for an ambulance and the local doctor, he watched Jena. Did she actually feel something for Bob the butcher?
The thought left him with cement in his stomach.
“Get away from me,” Bob shouted. “You’re the kiss of death. Every guy who comes near you gets hurt. What is wrong with you, woman?”
Jena jerked backwards as though she’d been slapped. She clim
bed to her feet and placed a hand on the breakfast bar to steady herself. Matt didn’t like how pale she looked.
“You’re a menace,” Bob shouted. “No wonder they call you Calamity Jena.”
Jena sucked in a shocked breath. Her whole body shook.
Bob spat his words at her. “I thought the stories were lies. No one as hot as you could be that accident-prone. I was wrong. You’re a freaking mess. No guy should get anywhere near you. Not if they value their life.”
Jena’s eyes turned glassy, but she didn’t say anything. Her bottom lip trembled, and what little sympathy Matt felt for the butcher evaporated. He nudged the Bob-filled rug with his toe. Okay, maybe kicked would be more accurate. Whatever. “Cut it out. It was an accident. No need to be more of a dick than usual.”
Bob’s mouth fell open. “You kicked me. I’m dying of third-degree burns and you kicked me. What kind of cop are you? You’re as crazy as she is.”
At that point there was a thump at the door. Matt looked at Jena’s ashen face. “Not one word,” he threatened an irate Bob.
Matt went to let the doc in.
“What we got?” The doc rushed past Matt, clasping his medical bag.
“Jena accidentally set Bob on fire. He’s in the rug. He’s fine. Jena’s in shock. You need to check her out. I’m worried about her.”
“Check Jena? I’m the one who was on fire!”
“Can you give him something to put him to sleep?” Matt gave the Bob-filled rug a look of disgust. “I’m fed up listening to the guy.”
“That’s it. I’m lodging a complaint. Your superiors are going to hear about this…”
Matt tuned out Bob’s rant. Instead he pulled Jena into his arms, surprised when she curled into him. “It’s okay, princess,” he murmured against her hair. “Don’t let him get to you. It was an accident. His fault. He’s the one with the bad décor. Anyone could have tripped on that huge, hairy rug. You were bound to hit a candle when you fell. There are about a million of them in here. Don’t worry about it.” He rubbed her arms as she shivered.
Doc unwrapped Bob. The guy was still ranting. Doc let out a sigh. “Mild burns. You got him fast enough. Nothing to worry about. The clothes and the rug are trashed, but he’s fine.”
“See,” Matt told Jena, “he’s just being a big baby. He’s fine.”
Jena hiccupped against his chest as her shoulders shook. Matt held her tighter. He glared at Bob the bloody butcher and couldn’t resist giving him another nudge with the toe of his boot.
“Man up,” he told the pathetically wailing guy. “You’re upsetting her.”
Ignoring Bob’s outrage, Matt led Jena to his car.
12
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Joe led the twins, and Grunt, to a table in the corner of the pub’s restaurant. “We’re gonna talk about this calm like. Nobody is gonna freak out. We’re all friends here.”
Megan barked a harsh laugh. “No we’re not.” She spun on Grunt as he pulled out a chair for Claire. “King Kong, stop manhandling my sister.”
He growled at Megan. Megan growled right back. It was like a Chihuahua taking on a Doberman.
“He isn’t manhandling me.” Claire found her voice at last. For a minute there she’d worried she might have become permanently mute. “He’s only holding my arm. He’s stopping now. Aren’t you, Grunt?”
What the hell kind of name was Grunt?
“No,” he said.
Great, that was helpful. Claire frowned at him before attempting a smile for her sister. They all needed to calm down. This was crazy enough as it was without hysterics coming into play. She felt a tug on the seat of her chair. It jerked closer to Grunt, and the next thing she knew she was wedged against him. His arm slid around her waist. His thumb traced tiny circles on her hip.
Claire tried to shrug him off. His hold tightened. Her reaction to his behaviour confused her. Part of her wanted to run screaming in panic. The other part wanted to melt into him. He was huge, solid and smelled like a Highland forest on a warm summer’s day. He was also a strange American man who thought he owned her. Okay, it was official: she was losing her mind.
“Hands off my sister, King Kong.” Megan pointed at Grunt. “Or I’m calling my brother in.”
Claire turned in time to see her captor’s reaction to Megan’s threat. A slow smile curved his lips, turning his face from terrifyingly masculine into sexy as hell. Claire’s mouth went dry at the sight. The only thing that ruined the transformation was that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. They were hard. Calculating.
“Call him.” His voice rumbled through her. “I’ve been wondering why he hasn’t been to see me. Figured he’d want a statement. Seeing as I was run off the road by a negligent driver.”
Megan paled. Joe looked astonished. “Shit, man, that’s the most I’ve heard you say at one time in about five years.”
“Don’t faint yet,” Grunt told his friend. “I ain’t done.” He leaned across the table towards Megan. “You want to keep this whole business from your brother, and that fits in with my plans, so I’m gonna to give you that. I’ll keep things to myself. But I want something in return for helping you out.”
Claire had trouble swallowing. She didn’t need to be clairvoyant to know what he wanted.
“What?” Megan demanded.
“Claire.”
Yep, and she was right.
Megan slapped the table. “You can’t have her, King Kong. She’s a person. Not a card you trade.”
“Done dealing with you.” Grunt cut off her sister by turning in his seat towards Claire. His eyes softened. “Gonna be straight with you, baby. I like what I see and I want more of it. Never had a reaction like this before.” He gently cupped her cheek, and, to her disgust, a tiny sigh escaped her lips. He smiled, soft and delicious. “Want more of this. Want more of you. You give me a chance to get to know you and I don’t talk to your brother. What do you say, baby? I’ll treat you right. You got my word on that.”
“I don’t even know you,” she whispered.
“Gonna fix that for you, babe.”
“Claire. Resist the insanity.” Megan’s voice cut through the little world she’d fallen into. The one where only Grunt existed. She blinked at her sister as though coming out of a daze. Megan’s mouth hardened. “You’re suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Fight it. Don’t get sucked in by his blue eyes and Dwayne Johnson shoulder muscles.”
Joe laughed. “I like you, sugar, but to suffer from Stockholm syndrome you have to be kidnapped for a while. My buddy here has only been holding your sister for ten minutes.”
“Feels longer,” Megan snapped at him.
“This is between you and me,” Grunt said softly to Claire. “Give me a chance.”
“No,” Megan wailed.
“Yes,” Claire whispered.
She felt every muscle in his huge body vibrate against her. “Not gonna regret that, babe.”
Claire bit her bottom lip as she eyed her sister. Her very furious sister. She smiled weakly. Megan wasn’t impressed.
“Listen up, King Kong,” Megan said. “I’m watching you. You hurt her—you die. You make her cry—you die. You pressure her into anything—you die. Why you couldn’t have asked her out on a date like a normal person, I don’t know. I do know that you’re walking a fine line with me. One where you die if you cross it.” She leaned over the table. “Don’t be fooled. We might look like members of Charlie’s Angels, but we’re capable of a whole lot more than roller-skating and flipping our hair. You hurt her and you hurt me too. You don’t want to hurt both of us. Am I clear?”
Grunt nodded solemnly. Although the only thing clear about Megan’s threats was that they were empty ones. If Grunt wanted to, he could snap the twins like a couple of twigs.
Megan picked up her menu. “Let’s eat. Consider this your first date. Impress me with your behaviour.”
Claire smothered a grin—Megan should have been the one to study kindergarten teaching. She wa
tched Megan stiffen as Joe trailed a finger over her shoulder.
“Just so you know. I don’t need to kidnap a woman to get a date.”
“Good for you.” Megan flicked his hand away. “Just so you know. Nothing will happen between you and me. Ever.”
“Gotcha.” Joe looked more amused than rejected.
Claire’s attention was torn away from the entertainment on the other side of the table when Grunt held her tight and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Samuel Dayton,” he said. “People call me Grunt. You don’t. You call me Samuel, or Sam.” He smiled against her cheek, sending shivers through her body. “Nice to meet you, Claire.”
“We are in so much trouble,” Megan muttered.
Claire blinked up at Grunt and felt her brain freeze. Oh yeah, they were in trouble all right.
With a slow smile, Grunt lifted the menu and opened it in front of both of them.
“Got to feed my baby,” he said.
“Does anybody else find his behaviour really creepy?” Megan asked loudly.
Grunt ignored her sister and smiled at Claire. “What do you fancy?” he said.
And yet again, Claire felt like the monster’s pet. Only in her head he’d morphed into one of those cute, cuddly monsters that you found on Sesame Street.
Yep, she was in serious trouble.
13
Jena was uncharacteristically silent during the short drive to her house. The light that normally shone from her had dimmed. It made Matt want to go back to Bob’s house and kick him some more.
She climbed out of the car before he could help her and picked her way up the broken and overgrown path to her door. The stiff set of her shoulders gave out the clear message that she didn’t want him near, so he stayed close behind in case there were any more accidents. But he didn’t touch. Even though his fingers were burning with the need to comfort her.
The door swung open and the light came on. A bare bulb casting the hallway in sharp, unforgiving light. Jena turned to him. Her eyes didn’t make it to his face; they focused somewhere in the middle of his chest.
Calamity Jena Page 9
