by Cait Miller
Even barefoot and wearing only his damp jeans, Jack broadcast danger. A low rumbling growl emanated from him and his whole body almost vibrated with anger. Although his frame was sleekly muscled, there was little evidence of the kind of strength it took to lift a man easily onto his tiptoes with one hand, or to break his wrist like a dry twig. The man in question was about the same height as Jack but heavier, with the kind of build you might see standing outside a nightclub glaring at the people queuing. His head was shaved and his flat nose had obviously been broken more than once. Where did this guy come from, Villains ‘R’ Us?
“Who sent you?” Jack snarled at him as if reading her mind, but the thug shook his head. Before she could blink, Jack held a switchblade under the man’s nose, his eyes widening at the threat from his own weapon.
“Who. Sent. You?”
“Ah dinnae…know!” he gasped. “Ah didnae…see him.” When he stopped, Jack merely waited, eyes narrowed, face hard and unyielding.
“It was all…din on the phone… He called and telt us where you were… Paid cash…left it in…the gents at the train station… Half now, half efter proof…”
He ground to a halt again, and this time Megan saw Jack’s fingers tighten around his throat as he hissed, “Proof?”
The man’s face turned an alarming shade of purple and she thought he might actually suffocate before he could answer.
“Pictures!… Of you and the bird…efter we’d…din you,” he managed. Megan drew a shocked breath. Jack loosened his grip again and, encouraged, his captive continued in a rush. “We missed the first time… Telt him a hit and run wisnae a guid bet, but that’s what he wanted, said it had tae look accidental. Nothing personal, pal, it wis easy money. All we had t’dae wis show up where he telt us tae.”
Nothing personal… Megan shuddered as she realized that this man had nearly killed her twice now. More terrifying was the fact that someone out there still wanted her dead. She glanced at Jack. He was visibly trembling, his incandescent eyes burning holes through the man he held. The knife in his hand was now lying just under the man’s chin, a drop of blood welled up where it had nicked the skin.
Jack struggled with fury unlike anything he had ever felt. He wanted to kill the spineless idiot in his grasp who had dared to threaten his mate. The man was silent but for his harsh breathing, and the scent of fear rolled off of him in waves, inflaming Jack’s senses even more. He wasn’t a human being anymore, he was prey. It was primitive and irrational and Jack didn’t care. For endless seconds he teetered on the edge of control until he heard Megan approach him from behind.
“Jack. Let him go, he’s not worth it.” Her gentle voice and the scent of her calmed him. He jerked his wide-eyed captive against the wall, satisfied when his head hit it with an audible thump. “You better run far and fast ‘pal’ because the next time I catch up with you will be the last.” He let go, and the man crumpled to the ground with a yelp before springing back up and scrambling away cradling his injured wrist.
Jack closed his eyes and simply breathed. Never had he come close to killing someone before, he was as tightly strung as a piano wire. Though he could feel the heat from Megan’s body as she stood behind him, he still jerked when she laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. After finishing his shower, he had gone to the kitchen to ask her about his clothes and had seen the empty bin immediately. It hadn’t taken a genius to work out what she was doing, especially when he tuned into her thoughts. Concerned for her safety, he had only paused long enough to retrieve his jeans from the dryer and pull them on before following her. He had been halfway down the stairs when she had been grabbed. Her thoughts from then on had become maddeningly disjointed but he caught enough to know that he was dealing with one of the two knife-wielding thugs who had attacked him. It had been all he could do to hold his concentration long enough to send an image to help her break the man’s hold.
Reaching up, he took her hand and brought her round in front of him. He traced the outline of a small bruise forming on her cheek and had to rein in his useless anger again. Part of him wanted to be mad at her too, for coming out here at this time of night on her own, but he reminded himself that she hadn’t been aware of the danger. Desire and possessiveness radiated through his veins mingling with relief and fear, and he claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss. Nibbling at her lips, demanding entry, plunging his tongue deep when she complied. The taste of her went straight to his head—both of them. When she responded by sucking gently on his tongue, he thought his hard-on would burst straight through his jeans. He wasn’t sure if it was the sudden lack of blood to his brain that made him dizzy or the sheer intoxication of desire. Their mouths separated reluctantly, both stealing nips and licks until Megan took a small step back. Her pupils dilated, cheeks pink with excitement, she ran the tip of her tongue over red, swollen lips.
Jack stifled the impulse to pull her back into his arms. He had to find out who was after them and why, and he needed to keep his mate safe while he did it. With his family out of contact, there was only one other person he could think to go to for help and he lived right here in Scotland. Cameron Murray would not be happy to see him, though, and taking Megan there might be like jumping from the frying pan to the fire.
“Jack?” Megan looked at him, passion fading from her eyes, brows pulled together in concern. “Who would want to hire someone to kill us?”
Jack returned her gaze, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. He was still as clueless as she clearly was. “I don’t know, but I’m going to try to find out. Right now we have to get out of here, it’s not safe and if we stay any longer we might put your friend in danger, too.” He expected her to argue, saw the intent in her eyes, but anxiety about her friend’s safety seemed to squelch it. He took her hand and led her back inside before she could change her mind, making plans as he climbed the stairs.
“Where can we go?”
“I have a friend who lives in the north of Scotland. Cameron Murray. He has a big house with a lot of security. So even if we are followed—” and we probably will be, he thought, “—you’ll be safe.” Megan came to an abrupt stop a few stairs behind him, her grip on his hand threatening to topple him backwards. “You mean we will be safe, don’t you? Because if you are thinking of dumping me in a stranger’s house and going off on some macho crusade, you have another think coming.”
That had actually been very close to his plans but one look at the mutinous expression on her face made him revise them. Jack swore he could feel his blood pressure rising again. If the bad guy didn’t kill him, his mate surely would! Muttering under his breath, he tugged on her hand and continued on up the stairs.
* * * * *
Jack studied his mate as she slept soundly in the passenger seat of her car. She had tilted the seat back as far as it would go and was curled up on her side. The seat belt fastened around her, knees pulled up towards her chest. It had taken longer than he wanted to get started on their journey since he had to collect his things, change clothes and check out of the hotel. He’d offered to take Megan to her apartment so that she could pack a few more belongings but she’d said it wasn’t necessary. Instead she’d borrowed a few things from Jayne to add to what she had already packed, insisting she could buy anything else she needed. He knew she couldn’t afford it and had silently resolved to pay for anything she needed himself. It was his duty now to provide for his mate—though he didn’t look forward to her reaction when he told her that.
Jayne hadn’t been happy with his intention to whisk her friend away in the middle of the night with no explanation. In the end he had to tell her that someone was following him and now Megan, and that he needed to take her somewhere safe until he found out why. Jayne hadn’t been entirely happy about that either but since Megan had unhesitatingly backed him up, there hadn’t been much she could do about it. Before they left, though, she had gotten the last word. His lips curved as he remembered them.
“You hurt my friend, or let someone else hurt
her, and I will hunt you down, cut off your balls and feed them to you.”
With a quiet chuckle he turned his attention back to the dark road, checking again for headlights in the rearview mirror. The sky was still cloudy but occasionally the moon shone through the gaps and gilded hedgerows and fields of livestock with silver. They had left the busy motorway behind them long ago and joined the winding maze of dark country roads leading to Cameron’s estate. There were so many twists and turns that a clever enough pursuer should be able to stay far enough back that he wouldn’t be seen. He could count the number of cars they had passed in the last hour on one hand, so it should be easier now to spot anyone following them. Jack wasn’t taking any chances, though.
The closer they got the more anxious he became, for himself, for Megan and for his friend. He didn’t know how Cameron would react to Megan’s presence. In fact, he didn’t even know how welcome he would be himself—he hadn’t had any personal contact with Cam for months. His friend had locked himself away in his house, rarely seeing anyone anymore. Before last August, he had at least received a phone call every few weeks. Now there wasn’t even that. Jack suspected he still held himself at least partly to blame for Nick’s disappearance despite Jack’s efforts to convince him otherwise. Frustrated, he had asked Cameron’s housekeeper to stay in touch. As long as he kept receiving those e-mails, he knew Cam was all right.
The radio played quietly in the background and the weather report distracted him momentarily. Cool night air mussed his hair as it blew in the slightly open window. It brought with it the scent of the rain promised by the bulletin and the unfamiliar smells of the countryside. He welcomed the chill since it helped keep him alert. God, he was so tired. This couldn’t go on. How could he protect his mate if he spent half the time exhausted from shifting? Megan must trust him, all of her actions said that she did even though she didn’t seem to believe it herself. Yet he was still reluctant to tell her about the blood exchange. Why? He looked at her sleeping form and a wave of tenderness washed over him.
I love her…and I’m afraid to lose her.
The realization stunned him. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he acknowledged the truth of the words. He had known it was a possibility, after all, it was one of the reasons he had searched for so long. He just hadn’t expected to fall for her so soon. Megan was attractive and funny and fiercely independent. Already he could hardly picture his future without her in it. Dearbh Ceangal or not, Jack was very much afraid that when he gave her the choice she would not feel the same.
He pushed aside his concerns as the hedgerows bounding the road gave way to the edge of the thick pine forest that surrounded Murray House. The only access road was a rutted one-lane track leading through the trees. It was well concealed and he almost drove past it.
Megan woke as he hit the first pothole, she blinked gritty eyes and sat up stiffly. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton and she licked her dry lips and wished she’d thought to pack a drink. She glanced at Jack’s profile in the dim light inside the car. He said nothing, just concentrated on navigating the narrow dusty gravel road illuminated by the headlights. Pine trees towered over them on either side and she shivered as she stared through the bushes at their base into darkness thick enough to cut. Their fresh, distinctive smell wafted in the open window mixed with the moist smell of earth. She’d always had a good imagination and thoughts of what could be lurking in there made the back of her neck prickle.
“Where are we?”
Jack flicked a glance at her before turning his attention back to the road and answering. “We’re almost there, the house is about half a mile ahead.”
The car bounced into another hole and she winced at the potential damage to her small vehicle. “You’ve been here before then?”
“A few times, but it has been a while,” he said and fell silent again.
Questions clamored at her, she was desperately curious about their destination but Jack didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. They were nearly there anyway. She could be patient. There was a sound suspiciously like a snort from the other side of the car and she looked sharply at his impassive face. Jack glanced at her, his expression inquiring. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and stared out into the trees, soft music from the radio filled the silence again. A short time later they rounded yet another bend in the road and stopped in front of a large set of black, spiked, iron gates. They were set into a red sandstone wall that must have been at least ten feet high. The red eye of a security camera glowed from the top of the wall on the right. Beyond the gates a long paved driveway curved away towards the dark silhouette of an enormous mansion house. Two of the windows she could see had light shining softly from them, even at this ungodly hour—one on the second floor and the other on the ground floor. Beside her Jack rolled down the window and pressed a button on the telecom that was mounted on a post beside the road. The speaker hissed as it was activated but no one spoke. The gate was already opening when Jack announced, “It’s Jack, Cam.”
His expression grim, he rolled up the window and drove through the gates. He didn’t look happy at the prospect of seeing an old friend. In fact he seemed worried. Perhaps understandable since he hadn’t phoned to tell him that they were coming, despite Megan’s request. Jack seemed to think it was a better idea just to arrive. However, it was the trace of nerves she could feel from him that she found more disturbing. What exactly were they heading for here? After the last few days, Megan didn’t think her stress levels could get any higher but they were climbing again now. Her neck and shoulders were tight with it.
The headlights showed well-trimmed grass on either side of the road stretching off into the darkness. As they rounded the driveway, the lights swept over the house and she saw it was constructed of the same stone as the outer wall. Jack eased the car to a stop at the foot of the stone steps and switched off the engine.
The atmosphere vibrated with tension as he climbed out of the cooling vehicle, and after a few seconds Megan followed. She shivered slightly both from the breeze and nerves. Jack wrapped his arm around her, enveloping her in the comforting heat and scent of his body and they climbed the stairs to the heavy wooden front door together.
To Megan’s dismay, Jack simply opened it and pulled her into the house, closing it gently behind them. Before she could sputter in protest, he murmured, “Trust me.” Then transferred his grip to her hand. She missed the closeness of the embrace even though the entryway was pleasantly warm. And silent. There wasn’t a sound save for the ticking of the grandfather clock that stood against the wall at the bottom of the staircase on her left. If she didn’t know better, she would swear the big house was empty, but someone had let them in. Get a grip, Megan. You’re behaving like the heroine of a gothic romance, she scolded herself. Resolutely she straightened her shoulders, determined to shake off her strange mood, and took in her surroundings.
It was all very tasteful and very masculine, so far, at least. The walls and the doors, as well as the few pieces of furniture, were all wood, the shining brass wall lights made it glow with rich color. A dark red patterned carpet covered the floor, continuing on the stairs to the open landing of the first floor and out of sight. In front of them an unlit hallway led away towards the back of the house. Her curiosity made her long to explore further.
Jack’s grip tightened on her hand and as she turned to look at him, movement on the landing caught her eye. A man stood there, unsmiling, both hands leaning on the wooden banister. The two men stared at each other in silence. Megan gasped in surprise.
He was a big man, tall and broad at the shoulders, his golden hair shone in the soft light that drifted up from the hall. As if he sensed Megan’s appraisal, he switched his amber gaze to her. She swallowed nervously. With that one look into his eyes, she instinctively knew this man was like Jack. With one difference. Until now she had thought Jack had an air of danger about him, but this man, this man personified danger. She
could feel it radiating from him like pressure in the atmosphere. His voice, when he spoke was smooth and deep, American, flavored with a hint of Scottish. It was a beautiful voice, but his words destroyed her appreciation of it.
“What the hell is she doing here, Jack?”
Chapter Nine
Jack didn’t react to the curt words. In fact he seemed to expect them. Megan on the other hand was astonished. She didn’t even know this man. What could he possibly have against her? Something in her wanted to cower at the barely suppressed animosity in his tone and that only made her angry. As if sensing her reaction, Jack soothingly caressed the back of the hand he held with his thumb.
“I needed to bring her somewhere safe, Cam,” he answered calmly, not taking his eyes off of his friend.
Cameron gave a harsh, humorless bark of laughter. “You know better than that, Jack.”
Again the words drew no reaction from Jack other than the soothing caress on her hand that seemed to urge her silence as he continued. “Someone is trying to kill us.” He relayed the close calls they had had of the past couple of days ending with the information that he had obtained from the man who had attacked her. “I need your help to find out who and why.” Emotion flickered across the other man’s face too quickly interpret.
“Do you want me to call the team?”
Jack paused, considering. The team was a group of shifters who helped ensure that their species remained a secret. If there was any threat to their way of life, be it from humans or other shapeshifters, they dealt with it. They wouldn’t hesitate to come if Cameron called them, after all, he used to be one of them. Still was, in some ways.
