Alistair: A Highlander Romance (The Ghosts of Culloden Moor Book 40)

by Jo Jones

  Even though the solar generator was his target today, the familiar tingle of pleasure snaked through him at the thought of slipping inside someone’s private dwelling. Touching their things. Picking and choosing what he wanted, as if it had all been laid out for him. He’d make his selections and come back for them when the time was right.

  The Drummond cabin and shed were probably ripe with treasures. Remote cabins like hers tended to keep a lot more on hand than the more easily accessible ones. He could almost taste the sweetness of the victory he’d have today, and in days to come.

  If the spoils were as good as he hoped, he’d probably have to make several visits to carry it all away. But he was in no hurry. Reconnaissance and planning were always key to a successful survivalist experience.

  But first, the solar generator. He could go another whole summer and not find one that fit his needs so perfectly.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Has the saw been working okay?” Brie asked, sitting on a section of tree to finish her water.

  “Aye. Verra well,” he nodded at the gap in the tree-barricade. “I ken we’ll be able to finish today.” Which meant his time here would be finished, as soon as the roads were ready.

  When Brie looked at him, he held her gaze, willing her to say she’d changed her mind and wanted to hear from him, again. He searched for some sign of hope in her unforgettable emerald eyes, but only found determination.

  That’s how he’d remember her. Strong. Generous. Determined. The softness of her body when he held her. Her scent. But most of all, the tenderness of her heart.

  And Gus, he smiled, as the dog came bounding across the road to wind between his legs and lift his head for a hearty rub behind the ears.

  He couldna bear the thought of leaving either of them.

  “Well,” Brie said, getting to her feet. “I guess this tree isn’t going to move itself. Do you still have plenty of gas in the saw?”

  Gas? Mac glanced at the saw, sitting on the ground. “I’m sorry. I dinna ken.”

  “That’s okay,” Brie said, her face softening. “All these little things you don’t remember, will eventually come back to you.” She checked the saw and gave him a reassuring smile. “Be patient with yourself, Mac. The memories will come.”

  She touched his arm, reassuringly, as she passed, then got back on her wheeled machine. “The gas is low, but you can continue with what you have. I’ll go get more from the shed. Anything else you want while I’m there?”

  “Nae. Thank ye, lass.” Mac picked up the saw and waited while she started her machine.

  “Wanna go, Gus?” Brie patted the back of the seat. But Gus circled Mac’s legs and laid down. “Traitor,” she laughed, then headed up the road, toward the cabin.

  Mac watched her leave, feeling powerless to hold onto the bond he’d thought had grown between them. Sighing, he started the saw and continued to cut away the only thing keeping them together.

  CHAPTER NINE

  He wandered leisurely through Brie Drummond’s cabin. What a foolish woman to think that feeble little door lock could keep someone out. Especially someone with his skills.

  It angered him that no one knew or appreciated how really good he was at his craft. They never bothered to look past the nerdy history teacher with an unusual interest in wilderness survival. They didn’t grasp his keen intellect or his uncanny instincts. They certainly wouldn’t put any store in his belief that society, as a whole, was on the verge of an apocalyptic collapse.

  Most people, like those with cabins up here, weren’t interested in preparation, therefore, they weren’t interested in survival. Consequently, they not only wouldn’t need the things he requisitioned from their homes, they didn’t deserve them.

  He sneered at the Drummond woman’s laptop; the tool of a collapsing world. He was required to use one in his teacher persona, but he held the power of choice, up here. He did, however, give some attention to the titles of books on what must be her research shelf.

  The Crime Writers Handbook, A Complete Guide to Plant Poisons, Old Medicinal Remedies In A New World, Interrogation Tactics, How To Turn Just About Anything Into A Weapon, Heroes and Heroines, and other romance writing drivel.

  Of course, he could buy any of them he wanted. Order them right off the devil internet. But the point of survival was to scavenge for what you needed. And for what you wanted. He’d add those first few books to his pick-up-later list.

  Also added to the list, were innumerable items from Ms. Drummond’s pantry, and some choices from her stock of medical supplies. Maybe even a coat or two, if they suited him. Clearly, she had some inkling the world was out of balance. Otherwise, why keep so much on hand?

  He’d tracked her movements, just like he had everyone’s up here, and knew she went into town every couple of weeks, so she had no need to stockpile so much.

  It all played very well into his hands, of course, but she’d surprised him, and few people did that. Perhaps the two of them had more in common than he’d thought. An opportunity to share perspectives on the world situation might have been stimulating.

  Now that he’d seen this storehouse of useful items, he’d plot a series of visits to return and collect what he wanted. Since this was his first presently occupied cabin, his visits would require additional care and skill. Even the anticipation of such a challenge, brought a pleasant, familiar tingle.

  He picked up a tiny pewter replica of a wizard sitting beside Ms. Drummond’s laptop and dropped it into his pocket. He liked to keep one small trinket from his first visit to each cabin, to represent his victory over the cabin owner’s intellect, as well as their property.

  After his careful search of the cabin he knew the solar generator had to be in the shed out back. It was time to collect the prize and take his leave, before the cabin’s occupants finished with that tree and returned. Stepping onto the deck, he could hear the whine of the chain-saw in the distance, and grinned.

  People were such gullible fools.

  He repeated the sentiment as he approached the shed and saw the door not only unlocked but standing ajar. Apparently, the Drummond woman and her friend had been in such a hurry to start working on the tree, they’d been completely careless about locking up. It served them right to forfeit their property if they weren’t any better caretakers than that.

  ~ ~ ~

  Brie sorted through a line of gas cans, not only needing gas for the saw, but she’d run out of gas in the ATV, as well. Foolish. Now she’d have to lug these cans clear back down the lane, where she’d left the 4-wheeler. She’d just located the gas for the saw, when a shadow darkened the door. “Mac?” she glanced up. “Can you believe I—?”

  Her stomach lurched when she realized the silhouette represented someone of much smaller stature than Mac. Trembling, she rose to her full height, praying her voice wouldn’t betray her fear.

  “Who are you. What do you want?”

  She knew the man wasn’t just someone looking for help with a flat tire, or directions to somewhere. No one on the road, could get past Mac. She could hear the faint sound of the chain-saw, so Mac and Gus were still down there. This person must have come through the trees.

  Panic tightened her chest and she felt the beginnings of a cold sweat. She was trapped in here. One way in. One way out. No one would even hear her scream.

  Glancing around for anything she could use as a weapon, she spied a large pipe wrench hanging on a nail. It was that, or a roll of tubing. For the first time, she regretted her compulsion to keep everything so neat and tidy.

  She eased toward the pipe wrench.

  The man took a step forward. “Since I’ve seen the study material inside your cabin, I have no doubt you could find a way to use that,” he drawled as he pulled a .32 caliber Beretta from his pocket. “I’ll bet you even know the caliber of this gun and the damage it can do at this distance.”

  She did. She’d just written it into her novel. A tremor snaked up her s
pine. He’d been in her cabin? Nausea and terror tangled her gut. Especially with his gun aimed at her belly.

  “Since my armament trumps yours, you should step away from the wrench.”

  Would Mac hear a gunshot? Not that it would matter, since this man was too close to miss. Regret swamped her, even wiping away her nausea. Mac had wanted to share his feelings for her, but she’d gotten scared and refused to listen, wasting what time they did have together. And now it could be too late to tell him how much she wanted to hear what he had to say. How much she wanted him.

  “You’re an interesting woman, Ms. Drummond. You have lovely taste in furniture. Even clothes. But you’re lousy when it comes to a choice of vocation.”

  Her vocation? “How do you kn—?” Wait. His drawl sounded familiar. “Do I know you?”

  “We’ve met.” He came closer, away from the glare of the sun, behind him.

  Her mouth fell open but no words would form on her frozen tongue. Calvin Blanchard? She swallowed and tried again. “You’re the Mou—?" She pressed her lips into a tight line.

  “Mountain Man?” he finished for her. “You think I don’t know all the names people call me? Let’s see… The hysterical historical teacher. The survivalist nerd. I could go on, but I think I make my point. I’m not quite as simple as everyone assumes.” He waved the barrel of the gun a little. “I’m more…a wolf in sheep’s clothing, to coin a biblical phrase.” His smile was slow and calculated. “But I’m actually okay with The Mountain Man. It suggests strength, cunning, and the ability to annihilate any threats. Nature or human.” He shrugged. “Pretty close, if you ask me.”

  Brie’s nausea returned with a vengeance. “What do you want, here?”

  “Initially, I came for your solar generator. If you hadn’t flaunted the little gem like you did, leaving it out on your deck, I’d have never bothered with your cabin. I only do unoccupied cabins. Well…until now,” he shrugged. “The storm and the end-of-season crowds drove me further out, which is how I noticed your generator, in the first place.” He glanced around the shed. “So, where is it?”

  There was no use trying to stop him. Besides, she didn’t intend to make her last stand over a paltry generator. “Over there, on that pallet. Take it and go. I won’t stop you.”

  He snorted. “Of course, you won’t. But we have another conundrum to solve, don’t we?”

  “What would that be?” she asked hesitantly. The look on his face terrified her. Please, Mac! Run out of gas and come get me. But she could still hear the saw going. Wander home, Gus! Then you can go get Mac for me, the way you got me for him.

  “Unfortunately, now that you’ve identified me, I can’t just walk away and leave you here.”

  “I won’t tell anyone! I promise. You can have the generator. It’s a gift.”

  He actually laughed. “Seriously? You’re not writing dialogue in one of your novels, Ms. Drummond. Besides, the generator already belongs to me, like everything else on the mountain. It’s only a matter of deciding when to claim something. I’m sorry, but you don’t have much to negotiate with.”

  The man was crazy. As bad as she wanted to, she wasn’t foolish enough to rush him with his finger on the trigger of that Beretta. Suddenly, all of the made-up, spunky heroine scenario’s she’d ever written, seemed as devised as her characters.

  “Your kilted hero isn’t going to be sawing apart that tree forever, so decisions must be made. I’ve wasted too much time, already.”

  Her heart lodged in her throat and her pulse pounded in her ears. She could barely breathe. Please, Mac. Come!

  “What…decisions? Specifically?”

  Exasperation tightened his features and he shook his head as if he were trying to keep his patience with a child. “Whether to take you with me, or…” He shrugged and lifted the gun a little higher. “Really, Ms. Drummond, you disappoint me. I considered the pleasantries of a little intellectual interchange. But I sense you probably aren’t up to the task, so you leave me no choice.”

  “Brie.”

  “Pardon?”

  “If we’re going to…uhh, converse, then you might as well call me by my first name.” She had to buy some time until Mac came. “I’d…enjoy talking with you.”

  His expression turned hard. “Don’t patronize me! I’ve no patience for game-playing.”

  She dipped her head. Think, Brie! Don’t be so stupid. “I’m sorry, if you felt that way, but I actually meant it. If you recall, I did ask to interview you for your expertise on survivalist techniques. I’m still interested in your doomsday theories.”

  And seeing you in a jail cell.

  His perusal of her made her question her sanity in trying to outwit a lunatic.

  “Fine. You may accompany me for the time being.”

  Accompany him? No! That’s not what she’d tried to do.

  “You will come quietly and without argument. I suggest you don’t use up your chances, or my tolerance, by play acting. I’ve no use for you, if you do. Now, pick up the generator and those solar panels. You’ll carry them both. I’ll be right behind you with this gun, so if you try anything foolish, or make any undue sounds, the last thing you or your friend will hear, is the bullet leaving this barrel.

  “But don’t despair. I have another for him and your overzealous dog, if they try to intervene. At this point, I have nothing to lose, so I will not hesitate.”

  Trembling, Brie balanced the folding solar panels under one arm and picked up the generator with the other. She’d carried them like this, many times, but not for any distance. “Where are we going?”

  “Just follow instructions as I give them. Go north, away from the cabin. Stay in the cover of the trees, and make sure you’re stepping on pine needles. No tracks, and no sounds!”

  Her whole body trembled, her palms so sweaty she wasn’t sure she could hold onto the generator, or the panels.

  He stepped aside and motioned her out the door with the barrel of the gun. “I warn you, Brie Drummond, do not test me, or think you can outsmart me. Neither would end well.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Brie learned two things right away. She wasn’t nearly as smart, spunky, or courageous as she’d hoped. And Calvin Blanchard was indeed, a man of his word.

  Twice, she’d tried to sneak a partial footprint into the mud, or even leave a slight indentation on whatever ground cover she stepped on for Mac to find, certain he would follow once he discovered her missing. But Calvin caught each attempt and made her smooth them out, carefully covering each spot with pine needles, so it was impossible to tell if anyone had walked there.

  No wonder the Mountain Man had gone so long, undetected. He was actually very good at the survivalist junk he lectured about.

  Still, Brie couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that the shy, soft-spoken history teacher she’d met, walked behind her with a gun pointed at her back. A total contradiction to who he’d presented himself to be when they’d met last spring.

  When she’d pretended to accidentally bump a bush with the generator, hard enough to break a stem, he turned almost vicious.

  “You must be tired of living, Ms. Drummond. I warned you! That’s twice you’ve tried my patience. Third strike and you’re out! Do I make myself clear?”

  “It was an accident, I swear,” Brie explained, keeping her voice low.

  He raised the gun level with her eyes, so she looked down the cold, impartial barrel. Her blood pounded in her ears and her legs threatened to buckle. “Please,” she begged on a whisper.

  “I’ll grant you one last chance, but I suggest you exercise extreme caution. Otherwise, I may have to accidentally, shoot you.”

  Something in the eyes of the Mountain Man, that hadn’t been in the history teacher’s, made her believe him. There was such a marked difference in almost everything about him, except his size and facial features, it put a chill up her back.

  Gingerly, she picked her way between trees and bush
es, terrified she might make a print, or bend a blade of grass, or do anything that could upset him. She sensed time was running out and worried that even if Mac did come after her, it might be too late. Besides, she no longer doubted this guy was crazy enough to follow through with his threat to hurt both Max and Gus.

  Brie wound around a low thicket of underbrush, blinking back very uncourageous tears. They blurred her vision, making it hard to carefully choose each step. The deeper they went into the forest, and the more unfamiliar things looked, the more frightened she became. She’d grown up here, but Blanchard was pushing her into places she didn’t recognize.

  Her shoulders and back burned from tensed muscles and the weight of the generator, but she worried if she asked to rest, she’d break his ‘rule-of-silence’ and earn her third strike. Although, if she didn’t get a reprieve from the pain, she’d drop the generator and pay a price, anyway. “Please. Can we rest a minute?” She’d spoken as softly as possible, but still couldn’t help hunching her shoulders in preparation of retaliation.

  “That log to your right,” he finally said. “Sit there, but don’t touch anything around you.”

  Relief flowed through her as she set her load on the ground and dropped onto the log. She flexed the tight muscles in her back and massaged the cramps pinching her shoulders and arms, racking her brain for a way to gain his trust.

  He had to have a weakness, or some kind of chink in his haughty armor. Maybe if she could get him to let his guard down a little, she might have a chance of seeing Mac and Gus again. At some point he had to set that gun down. When he did, she’d take whatever chance she could.

  Start with casual conversation. Nothing confrontational.

  “Mind if we talk?” And stroke your ego, you fanatical lunatic!

  His gaze darted around the thicket of trees. “We’re far enough out. But keep it low.”

  “How long have you taught history?”

  The look he turned on her was suspicious and calculating. “A while.”