Legacy of the Highlands

by Harriet Schultz

  Alex’s legs felt like rubber as she jogged toward the street and flagged down a cab to take her to Francie’s apartment. She wasn’t able to convince herself that his taunt about a possible pregnancy was the rant of a madman.

  Francie had a deep belief in all things spiritual and the occult had always fascinated her. In college, the Ouija board and tarot cards accurately predicted too many events for her to discount their legitimacy. Alex accepted her friend’s beliefs even if she didn’t buy most of it herself.

  “You and Will had a very strong connection. What makes you think something like that ends because the body ceases to exist?” Francie asked after Alex told her what had happened in the alley and she’d assured herself that her friend, though thoroughly rattled, was all right. Alex shrugged, but said nothing.

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Will’s spirit hangs around until he’s sure you’re okay,” Francie continued. She had no doubt that the gentle breeze that had carried Will’s scent across Alex’s face in the alley was his ghost paying a visit.

  “You really believe that?”

  “You know I do,” Francie assured her as Alex leaned forward to clutch her friend’s small hand.

  “I wish I could be sure he was there,” Alex whispered as she tucked a woolen throw tightly around her legs. “Oh, God! I just thought of something. Do you think Will was watching when Diego and I…we…oh, sweet Jesus, that would be awful.”

  Francie hooted with laughter. “Did you see objects fly around the room or did something try to smother Diego?”

  “Stop making fun of me. This is serious.”

  “I am being serious,” Francie nodded and twirled a curl around one finger as she considered all possibilities. “If Will were there — and I think he would be enough of a gentleman that he’d have split and not stayed to watch unless he was kinkier than you’ve ever told me — he must have been okay with it,” she concluded. “Do you want to ask him? I can drag out the Ouija board.”

  Alex knew Francie was only being half facetious. “No, of course not. You’ll push the damn piece around the board until it says it’s okay for me to have more sex with Diego. I know you, Francie.”

  She feigned innocence. “Moi?”

  “Yes, you! You’re a romantic. You see Diego as a knight in shining armor who’s going to carry me off into the sunset on his white charger to live happily ever after. But that’s the stuff of fairy tales. First of all, it’s way too soon. Second, I found Prince Charming once and I’m pretty sure the limit is one per customer. If you think Diego will ever be more to me than a friend, maybe even a friend with benefits, you’re going to be very disappointed, Francesca.”

  “Okay, be that way. Falling for another man doesn’t take anything away from what you had with Will — just the opposite, in fact. You two were so terrific together that it makes total sense for you to want to have that again. And if it happens quickly, so what? You’d be an idiot to walk away from happiness based on some arbitrary timetable for grieving and you, Alexandra, are not now, nor have you ever been, a fool. Look at me,” she ordered. “If you had a miserable marriage, of course you’d never want that again. But you and Will had a great marriage.”

  Francie dropped her hands and walked away in disgust as she watched Alex shake her head from side to side. “Do that again, Alexandra MacBain Cameron, and I’m going to wring your neck! You are the most exasperating, stubborn woman! How we stay best friends is a mystery…but I love you even when I think you’re being an ass. And you are being an ass!”

  “I love you too,” Alex said as she hugged her friend. “I’ve gotta run. Diego gets into Logan soon and I want to pick up something for dinner and finish packing. I’ll call you from Scotland.”

  “You better,” she said, and then her tone became serious. “Those people are dangerous. I know you think this Serge person can protect the two of you, but Diego’s impulsive and likes to do things his own way. This is real life with real bullets and real blood. It’s not a movie. Please be careful.”

  Chapter 25

  Serge was edgy. He threw himself into a chair in his hotel room, kicked off his shoes, flipped through a sports magazine, tossed it aside and finally grabbed the remote, but found nothing to watch on TV. He needed action and there could be none until he heard from Diego.

  He popped open a beer and examined the uptick in his anxiety level. He recognized the feeling and knew it would be with him until Will Cameron’s killer was identified and the mission completed. Heightened senses were required to stay alive in his line of work along with a degree of confidence bordering on arrogance. Detachment figured in there too. He’d known it was time to leave Mossad when his conscience began to interfere with the indifference needed to shield himself from actions he’d witnessed or carried out as an agent. Two years after his retirement, he’d been hired by Ricardo Navarro to ensure Diego’s safety and, if necessary, protect him with his own life.

  It was a cushy existence and he was well compensated. The senior Navarro would be livid if he ever found out that Serge wasn’t glued to Diego. He’d probably be fired if Ricardo learned that it was his son who now gave the orders. Luckily, the willful bastard had a natural affinity for the rigorous training program that Serge had put him through until he was sure that Diego could expertly defend his own body. And he could, but with one major exception — when that body became entangled with a woman’s and he allowed his genitals to overrule his common sense. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that Diego’s irresponsible lack of communication for the past twenty-four hours was due to the lovely Alexandra Cameron. What worried him was the risk that particular connection held. From what he’d learned about their adversaries, one possible target remained — Alex — so whenever Diego was with her, the threat extended to him. He knew better than to try to pry Diego away from her, but he had to be sure that his friend was armed and vigilant. Serge knew that his boss wouldn’t re-establish contact until he was good and ready.

  Since he’d placed the listening devices in Mackinnon’s home and business, the man hadn’t done anything that tied him to the rebellious offshoot of the Group of One Hundred. He went to his shop, came home, dined with Mairi’s family a couple of times, and occasionally drove to the nearby Moray Firth to watch the sun set over the Black Isle. Serge had to consider that the information he’d obtained might be flawed or, with Will dead, the participants had gone to ground to avoid notice. He considered two other possibilities: that they were biding their time to formulate another plan; or, with Mackinnon’s son jailed, and revenge carried out against John Cameron for informing the English authorities about the terrorist plot, the splinter group might have disbanded.

  Patience often paid off eventually and that morning, as Serge headed to the bathroom to shave, he’d hit “play” to listen to any calls Mackinnon had received overnight. He nicked himself as the old man spoke with someone in Boston who’d obviously been watching Alex. His shoulders tensed as he listened to the man report on Alex’s visit to a doctor’s office and his theory that she could be pregnant with Will’s child. He then heard Mackinnon callously say, “Well now, she and the bairn must have a wee accident I suppose,” in answer to the caller’s query about how to proceed if, in fact, Alex carried a future Cameron. Serge clenched and unclenched his fists. Diego had to be told and the fucker was ignoring his calls.

  Chapter 26

  Diego ran across the tarmac toward the Navarro jet, shouting into his phone to be heard above the whir of a nearby plane’s engines. “Alex! Alex, can you hear me? Shit, I can’t hear you,” he growled and snapped the phone shut. He sprinted up the plane’s steps and tried the call again.

  “Better,” Alex said when she answered, stifling a yawn.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s a long flight back to the States and I wanted to get an early start. My pilot says we’ll be airborne in about a half hour, which would put us into Boston around seven tonight. I’ve also arranged for us to fly to Scotland tomorrow.�
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  “Good. I can’t stand that the killer thinks he’s gotten away with it.”

  “Trust me, Alex, we’ll find him.”

  “I know. If anyone wants this more than me, it’s you.”

  “I’ve got a couple of other calls to make before we take off. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Okay, have a good flight. I’m gonna try to go back to sleep.”

  He had an instant physical reaction to the thought of waking beside her, but he knew he had to let Alex lead that particular dance or he could lose her. That was one risk he wasn’t willing to take, which meant he’d have to fight his natural inclination to take charge.

  Scotland tomorrow, Alex mused as she popped bread in the toaster and fried an egg a couple of hours after Diego’s early morning call. She tried not to think about the man who’d ended Will’s life, but he came to her unbidden in dreams that left her trembling and drenched in sweat. He had to be found and dealt with if she were to ever have peace. She had no idea what form this thirst for vengeance would take, but cutting the killer’s heart into little pieces with a cleaver had some appeal. She forced those ugly thoughts away and switched her focus to Diego. Better, much better, she thought and smiled.

  About an hour before the Navarro jet was due into Logan, Alex gave a final check to the dinner she’d prepared — a Greek salad was chilling in the refrigerator along with the rotisseried chicken she’d bought on the way home from Francie’s. She’d serve it cold, accompanied by white wine, crusty bread and a dessert of strawberries dipped in sour cream and brown sugar — the perfect summer meal. She quickly showered, shaved her legs, pulled on faded jeans and a black tank top and switched off the hair dryer in time to hear the downstairs buzzer. It was Diego.

  Excitement bubbled in her veins as she stood at the open door and listened to him running up the stairs to her top floor flat.

  “You could have taken the elevator!” she shouted teasingly down the stairwell.

  “Too slow,” he replied as he wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off the ground and gifted her with a look of such incredible happiness that she couldn’t stop herself from grinning foolishly back at him.

  “Hi,” she finally said.

  “Hi,” he answered softly and touched his lips gently to hers.

  Francie knows me better than I know myself, Alex thought as she drifted into the kiss and the arousal it provoked.

  “I promised myself that I would wait, let you decide…give you time,” he whispered into her ear a moment later, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I don’t need time. I need you,” she replied breathlessly.

  Diego’s face flushed and his dark eyes sparkled with amusement as they met hers. Alex took his hand and smiled shyly as she led him to the guest room, dinner completely forgotten. She would never make love with another man in the bed she and Will had shared.

  “So…does this mean you want to use me again?” he teased raising one dark eyebrow.

  “Oh, shut up,” she answered and put an exclamation point on it by tugging his shirt out of his pants to run her hands over his hard, muscled back. His skin was warm, but she felt it quiver.

  “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured hoarsely as she raised her arms to help him slide the flimsy top over her head. Oh, yes, I do, she thought fleetingly as she sank into an abyss of sensation, because you do the same to me.

  Damp and sticky from sex and sweat, their bodies were fused to each other and it took some effort to separate. Diego was half-asleep, but one of his fingers repeatedly traced a line from Alex’s breast to her waist and back again.

  “Stop it!” she grumbled as she shoved his hand away.

  “What? What am I doing?” He’d dozed off and seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “I’m ticklish and you’re torturing me.”

  Diego turned onto his side and nuzzled her, inhaling her scent. No heavy perfume...a fragrance he couldn’t identify, but uniquely hers. He liked it and tightened his hold on her, then reluctantly let go when he remembered his vow to let her lead this particular dance. He propped his head on a couple of pillows and grinned lazily. “Is this our first fight?”

  “When we have a fight, Navarro, you’ll know it. And wipe that smile off your face.”

  “Can’t I smile at you? I’m happy. When I’m happy, I smile.” He reached for her again, but she leapt out of bed.

  “Ha!” she taunted. This was fun, but she wasn’t ready to let him know that. “I’m going to shower. And in case you’re thinking of joining me, the door will be locked. You can use the guest bathroom. Then put some clothes on and meet me in the kitchen. I made dinner.”

  “Oui, mon général, your wish is my command,” he said and made a courtly bow which would have looked ridiculous even if he weren’t naked. “First you share your body with me and now you offer food. My cup runneth over,” he added as he sauntered toward the bathroom.

  His back was to her when she turned to reply and he was already kicking the door shut with his heel. The man’s got the most beautiful ass, she observed, then averted her eyes. The last thing she wanted was for Diego Navarro to catch her checking out his body, but it was indeed a thing of wonder.

  Once she was sure that he was in the shower, she grabbed her cell phone. When Francie answered, all Alex said was, “You were right. And it was even better the second time. I love you France. Bye.”

  Chapter 27

  “Where the hell are you? Answer the damn phone!” Serge shouted with mounting frustration as he tried Diego’s number yet again. The message Diego had left said that he and Alex planned to arrive in Scotland that day. If they were aboard the Navarro Gulfstream, its satellite communications system would have picked up the call, so Diego must be traveling on a jet without that equipment. Or at least he hoped so.

  Serge knew his employer well. Diego’s father needed the Gulfstream, so he’d chartered a jet for him and Alex. Diego often used his wealth to insulate himself from the hassles endured by the masses. A commercial flight would have required a time-consuming stop in London or Edinburgh to connect to an Inverness flight. More important, private jets were exempt from the stringent, post-9/11 rules against weapons aboard commercial aircraft and Diego was traveling armed.

  He was mentally and physically prepared to do battle in Scotland. A slim, yet deadly, knife that he’d learned to wield with the agility of a street fighter was strapped just above his ankle. He’d trained on a life size dummy, although he still wasn’t sure that he’d be able to cut a human except in a life or death struggle. A semi-automatic Beretta was holstered beneath his arm, concealed under a roomy, black cotton sweater. He was already an expert marksman when Serge had been hired, but his aim and reflexes were now those of a pro. The bastards had no idea that Cameron blood flowed through another man’s veins, a man who was hell-bent on avenging his brother’s murder and on safeguarding the woman he’d begun to regard as his.

  But for now the warrior rested, his face as placid as a child’s. One arm was wrapped possessively around that woman — his woman — as they slept their way across the Atlantic after a night when sleep had been the last thing on their minds.

  Beside him, Alex slitted one eye as she slowly emerged from a deep, dreamless slumber. For an instant she was confused to find herself on a plane and not in her own bed. She stirred, but when Diego tried to draw her to him, she pulled away.

  “What’s wrong?” he mumbled in that half-conscious state between sleep and wakefulness. The man hadn’t shaved since leaving Buenos Aires and Alex thought he looked incredibly sexy with a two-day stubble of dark beard.

  “My ears popped and woke me up. We’re probably almost there.” She sat up to see if they were over land, but clouds blocked any view. “Will and I talked about buying small cottage in Scotland one day…as a hideaway. He loved this place,” she trailed off, overwhelmed by memories and conflicting emotions. It felt so wrong to be coming back to Scotland with anyone but Will, let alone a ma
n she’d slept with. Too soon, it’s too soon, she told herself for the zillionth time. Despite Francie’s assurance that there was no such thing as “too soon” if the right person came along, it still seemed like she was cheating on Will. Yet when she was with Diego it felt right. He was like chocolate to a dieter — hard to resist and definitely delicious, but with an aftertaste of guilt, self-loathing, and a vow to be stronger despite a short supply of will power.

  “Alessandra,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Of course Scotland is going to trigger memories for you. Will was so excited to learn about his heritage when you visited here.” He stroked her back as he spoke, but otherwise kept his distance. “Maybe you should take the plane back to Boston. Serge and I can take care of what has to be done here. You don’t have to stay.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Look, Diego, I have as much at stake here as you do and I won’t run away from it. Sure it’s going to hurt, but a lot of things do these days. I’m staying.”

  “Good, because the plan I’ve come up with includes you.”

  “Plan? What plan?” His arrogance was pissing her off big time. “If you have a plan and I’m part of it, don’t you think you should have told me?”

  “Yes, of course. I was going talk it over with you last night, but then…we didn’t do much talking, did we?”

  “No, we didn’t,” she conceded and her anger faded, knowing that she was as responsible as he was for how the evening turned out.

  The intercom crackled and the pilot addressed Diego. “Sorry to disturb you Mr. Navarro, but we’ll be landing in Inverness in about thirty minutes. That gives you fifteen to move around before you and Mrs. Cameron need to buckle your seatbelts.”