by Amy Vansant
He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on.”
“Pete. Look at me.”
He did, and she felt a wave of nerves as she prepared to tell him the truth.
Why would I tell him this? Do I need to hear it out loud myself?
She pushed through.
“It’s me. I’m serious. I’m not capable—” She stopped.
Pete tugged on her hand. “What?”
She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. “How many relationships have I ruined?”
“With men?” Pete chuckled. “All of them. You’re like a love buzzsaw.”
“Exactly. And how long do they even last?”
He shrugged. “Days? Weeks?”
“Could it always be their fault?”
“I—”
“I’ll answer for you. No. It’s me.”
Pete’s eyes went soft. “But you’re wonderful.”
“I’m not. Not to date. I sabotage every relationship. I can’t be happy. I don’t know why.”
“Are you going to do it to him too?”
He looked past her and she turned to glance in Broch’s direction. He was talking to the guard.
“I’m sure.”
She thought about having to tell Broch they needed to dissolve their accidental marriage and something in her chest throbbed with ache. Her eyes began to water and she blinked hard. “I’m going to break his heart.”
She wiped her eyes discreetly, thankful Pete seemed too wrapped up in his own drama to notice her tears.
He pulled her hand toward his chest. “But I really know you, Cat. The others—”
“But that’s just it, Pete. I love you too much to ruin our friendship. I couldn’t bear losing you.”
Pete’s shoulders slumped. “Couldn’t you just ruin our friendship a little? For, like, a week?”
“What?”
“Maybe twenty minutes? Could you ruin our friendship for twenty, hot, sweaty minutes?”
Catriona laughed and pushed his shoulder. “You’re terrible.”
“Ow.”
She helped him to his feet. “So you have no idea what happened to Fiona?”
Pete’s attention wandered to the east. “It’s morning?”
“Yes. What time was it when you left?”
“Maybe ten? Eleven?”
“Last night?” Catriona raised a hand to her forehead.
Fiona’s been gone a good six hours.
She could be almost anywhere.
“Have you seen Sean?”
Pete licked his fingers and used the spit to rub the dried blood from his chin. Dark flakes fluttered to the asphalt. “No. Not for a couple days. Why?”
“Nothing.”
Catriona turned as Broch returned.
“He called the ambulance.”
“Could it be Fiona you sensed in trouble? Not Sean?” she asked, hopeful.
Broch shook his head. “Nae. It was Sean.”
Catriona’s phone rang in Broch’s pocket and he retrieved it to look at the screen.
“Speak o’ the devil.”
“It’s him?” Catriona snatched the phone from his hand and pressed it to her ear.
“Sean? Are you okay? We’ve been calling—”
“I’m fine. Are you still at my house?”
Hearing his voice, a wave of relief flooded Catriona’s body. “No. We’re at the studio. Someone knocked out Noseeum and grabbed Fiona.”
“I need you at the warehouse. The one down the street from Luther’s.”
Catriona scowled, finding it worrisome Sean had had no reaction to her kidnapping news.
“What’s wrong? Was there a break-in?”
“No. It’s Luther.”
“What happened?” As she asked, she heard the bark of a police radio on the other side of the line. “What’s going on?”
Sean released a ragged sigh.
“He’s dead, Cat. Luther’s dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Catriona and Broch arrived at the Parasol warehouse moments before the crime techs finished with Luther’s body. The big man lay on the ground, tinted broken glass scattered around him like ash, a pool of drying blood beneath his head.
Catriona covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes, willing the vision to go away. She had never seen Luther so still. She feared the image of him so broken would never leave her.
When she opened her eyes again she saw Sean standing nearby, his face pale. He spotted them and motioned them over.
“You made it.”
Catriona fought back the lump rising in her throat. “What happened?”
Sean stared up at the broken window of the warehouse as he answered. “Rune. Luther tackled him through the window.”
“Why?”
“To save me. To save us. Who knows? He was talking crazy before it happened. Like he knew it was coming.” Sean pulled Catriona to him and hugged her tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t want you to see this.”
Catriona grappled with the idea of Luther purposely following Rune through the window. There had to have been another way. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know.”
When Sean released her, Catriona felt something wet on her arm. Feeling for it, her fingertips came back red.
“Wha—?” She searched for the source until she saw Sean’s right hand was covered in blood, much of it dried, some still glistening. On the ground near his foot a little pool of the sticky liquid had collected, splash marks spattered on his shoes. She grabbed his wrist to inspect it.
“You’re cut.”
Sean looked at the gash on the outside of his palm as if he were seeing it for the first time.
“Glass,” he muttered, chin thrusting up towards the broken window.
“It’s deep. You should get it looked at while they’re here. You might need stitches.”
He didn’t answer, and instead motioned towards the parking lot with his other hand. “You two go find Fiona. I don’t want you messed up in this.
“But—”
“I have to stay and talk to the cops.”
“You can’t tell them about Rune.” Catriona grimaced as the words came from her mouth.
Duh.
Sean flashed her the withering glance she’d expected. “What? You’re saying I can’t tell them there’s a time traveler from the past hell-bent on destroying my family?”
“Yeah, yeah. Stupid.” She looked up at the window. “Rune fell too?”
Sean nodded.
“Where—”
“He walked away.”
“How?”
Sean sucked his tooth, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to say. Finally, he looked at her. “Near as I can figure? A rat.”
“I don’t understand.”
“His back was broken. I could see it from up there. Then he grabbed a rat that came sniffing after the blood and...”
Sean trailed off until Catriona couldn’t wait any longer.
“And what?”
“It was like he absorbed it. Used it somehow to heal himself. He was gone by the time I could get downstairs.”
Catriona stared at him, speechless.
“How is that a thing?”
Sean shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Catriona looked away and then turned back, realizing she had news of her own. “Someone took Fiona.”
Sean nodded. “You’d said. Sorry. What happened?”
“She tried to leave my apartment using Dr. Pete to clear the way.”
“What’s Pete got to do with anything?”
“I told the guard not to let her out. She used Pete as a key.”
“Ah.”
“From what we could get from Pete, someone shot him with a dart and he passed out. When he woke up, she was gone.”
“A dart? Like from a tranq gun?”
She nodded. “I guess. Or a blow gun. The dart wasn’t there anymore. Just the prick on his neck.”
/> “What time was this?”
“Around midnight? He was fuzzy when we talked to him. Broke his nose, too. Looks like he has a potato screwed onto his face now. We sent him off with the ambulance.”
Sean seemed to ponder on this new information. “It could have been Rune and his friend. They could have gotten there by then.” He motioned to the shattered glass around them. “After this happened, I spent a while looking for Rune before I called the cops. Searched Luther’s apartment. Followed the path he probably took to get here from his house. I told the cops I found him like this.”
Catriona gasped. “Without Rune, they’re going to think he jumped.”
Sean nodded. “I’m not sure I should dissuade them. Fewer questions.”
“But Luther would never—”
“I know. He’s got a niece in Florida. I don’t want to do it.”
Catriona fell silent.
“Whit kin we dae?” asked Broch.
Sean put a hand on his son’s arm. “Go. I mean it. I’ve got this.”
Catriona snapped from her trance. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. But keep an eye out. There was a short, Hispanic-looking man with Rune. Thick-bodied. I shot him, but by the time I could get to him he was gone. I don’t know where he went or who he is.”
“But he was definitely working with Rune?”
“Definitely.”
Catriona frowned. “Great. Two of them.”
“Now get lost.” Sean nodded to Broch and the Highlander returned the gesture before ushering Catriona away.
* * *
On the way home, Catriona gripped the steering wheel, alternating between numbness and anger. She screeched to a halt at a stoplight, only noticing the red glow at the last moment.
“Are ye okay?” asked Broch.
“No. I’m really not. This isn’t fair. Why would they kill Luther?”
“Sean seems tae think he sacrificed hisself.”
“Maybe. It doesn’t matter. I’m still going to kill Rune.”
She turned to glance at her back seat. Two bags were sitting there.
Perfect.
She made a left and Broch looked at her.
“This isn’t the way hame.”
“We’re going to the gym.”
“How come?”
“I need it. I need to hit something. If I go home I’m—” She felt the tears coming again and stopped.
“Ye kin hit me,” said Broch, reaching over to give her leg a brisk pet.
“Thank you. I’d like that.” She sniffed a little sobbing laugh. They’d sparred before and she knew she found striking the oak tree of a man immensely satisfying.
When they arrived at the gym, Brochan held open the door as Catriona stormed through, desperately trying to clear her mind and pretend it was just another day. If she allowed her thoughts to wander to Luther, she’d start crying, and she had no idea how she would stop if that happened.
Catriona nodded to the girl behind the counter and headed directly into kickboxing studio. It was blessedly empty. She set down her bag and retrieved the tape for her hands. Today, she would pound away with her fists, her feet and everything else she could throw at the bag until she was too tired to cry.
Brochan dropped the makeshift training bag she’d gathered for him beside hers. It was pink, one of her old gym bags, but she knew he didn’t mind the feminine color. No one would dare call the giant girly, not if she’d given him a My Pretty Pony bag covered in ribbons and glitter. Not if they had any sense of self-preservation. Broch wouldn’t care either way, but the apes in the gym didn’t know that.
Broch taped his own hands, and she watched his technique as she finished her own.
“Good job. You remembered. It usually takes people a few times before they can wrap that well.”
He shrugged and held her gaze. “Whit aboot yer pains?”
Catriona positioned herself in front of the heavy bag, punching and kicking it lightly several times, testing out her sore spots. They seemed healed. What she’d felt sure was a cracked rib now felt fine.
“It’s weird, but they’re gone.”
Brochan punched his bag and it shuddered from the force of his blow. Catriona returned to her own workout, wondering whether it would be better to process the loss of Luther while she worked out, or better to push him out of her head and keep her pain locked down until she could find time alone.
Neither option seemed ideal.
Instead, she imagined Rune standing in front of her. Skinny bastard. Bam! One in the face. He’s reeling. Bam! Bam! Bam! Repeated blows to the body. He’s up against the wall. Sidekick! Now his ribs are broken.
She saw a flash of Luther’s body on the ground, blood pooling beneath his shattered skull. Had it been quick? Had he known he couldn’t survive the moment he broke through the window? Had he made sure to push Rune toward the wall to break his back as Sean had described, only to have him get away?
“Catriona. Catriona. Stop. Stop.”
Broch grabbed her and pulled her to his chest. She realized she was sobbing and watched as her hot tears dripped down Broch’s arm.
So much for not crying.
He held her close to him, her head resting against his massive bicep. The hard muscles in his chest rose and fell against her body. He cradled her, gently, like a bird with a broken wing.
That was how she felt. Broken. Her wounds had healed, but she felt weak. Luther had been like a second father to her. The thought of a world without him…
She allowed herself to cry until her nose stuffed and she couldn’t produce any more tears. She felt Broch’s lips press against the top of her head.
“It’ll be all right,” he whispered.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Ah ken.”
She sniffed as embarrassment slowly replaced her pain. It was one thing to cover the big man’s arms in tears, but she felt self-conscious about the rivers of snot headed in his direction. She pulled back and wiped his arm.
“I’m dripping all over you.”
He smiled. “Ah dinnae mind.”
Another man had come into the gym, not as large as Broch but clearly fit. He was already sweaty, presumably from working out in another part of the gym.
“Get a room,” he said to them. It was a joke, but he sneered as he said it, catching Broch’s eye as if to scoff, women.
Catriona looked at him and he laughed upon spotting her puffy eyes.
“Yikes. Breakup?” he asked.
Broch straightened. “Ye best be minded yer own business.”
“Yeah well...” He mumbled something under his breath Catriona couldn’t catch.
Asshat.
Catriona suffered a sharp flare of anger. She wiped her face on her arms. “You want to spar?”
The man snorted a laugh, looking back and forth from Broch to her. “Right. So you and the hulk there think you can double-team me?”
“He won’t be involved.”
“Cat—” Broch touched her arm and she flinched away from him, white hot anger burning behind her eyes.
She couldn’t find Rune yet, but maybe this man would do for now.
Rune’s proxy shrugged one shoulder. “Fine. Your funeral.”
Broch made a small disapproving noise and Catriona shot him a look. “I’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “Oh, ah ken. Ah juist dinnae ken if yer in the richt mind fer this.”
Catriona strode to the equipment area and suited in headgear and sparring pads. The man moved next to her and donned his own, smirking at her as he did.
Oh I can’t wait to smack that look off your face.
Finished padding-up, she moved to the mats to await her opponent.
“My name’s Jake, by the way,” he said as he took his position across from her.
“I don’t care.”
He held out his closed fist to bump. “I just wanted you to know what name to call out for mercy.” He leered, his gaze shifting in Broch’s direction as
his voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you can scream my name out again, later.”
Catriona smacked her gloves together to draw his attention back to her and then tapped on her chest.
“Don’t be afraid of him. Be afraid of me.”
Jake laughed. “Whatever.”
She bumped his glove with her own and dropped back, readying. As she suspected, he attacked seconds after the bump, running at her, flailing his arms like a monkey in an attempt to rattle her. She dodged and circled to the opposite side of the mat, avoiding him easily.
He turned to face her again, grinning.
“You gonna run away from me all day?”
Catriona smirked. “That was my gift to you. A moment to reconsider.”
Jake raised his hands again and moved forward, thrusting out his foot in an awkward sidekick. Catriona moved out of the way and spun toward him, striking him in the side of the head with the back of her fist as she whirled past.
Jake grunted and ducked too late, stumbling off the edge of the mat.
He spat a curse as he corrected his balance and hopped back on the mat, pounding his gloves together as if he were psyching himself up for the next attack.
“You sure you want to do this?” taunted Catriona. “You’re really not very good.”
Jake raised his gloves. Moving in, he kicked at her shins and she blocked him with her foot. He thrust forward with his right hand and she deflected. He threw a haymaker, stumbling forward, a victim of his own momentum. As she pushed him past her, he stabbed the back of her arm with the point of his elbow.
Catriona turned toward the pain and saw his fist coming, a punch aimed at the back of her head, now about to strike her in the ear.
Cheap shot.
She dropped and punched forward, striking him in the lower abdomen with all her strength.
With a loud oof! Jake dropped to his knees, his gloved hands clutching at his stomach.
Catriona had her fist raised, ready to punch him in the head, when she heard Broch behind her.
“Cat. Na.”
She stood there, fist shaking in the air, seeing only white. Slowly, she felt her control return and saw Jake wincing beneath her. She swallowed and lowered her hand. Jake’s face pinched with anger and pain.
“Dirty bitch,” he spat through gritted teeth.
“You started it.” She strolled off the mat. “I think we’re done here.”
