by Amy Vansant
“She said ye wouldnae really be murdering them...”
Catriona ignored him and lifted her arms into the air again. “And Sean! With his you can’t go fight monsters without my permission BS? Like I’m a kid. I’m practically thirty. Who does he think he is?”
“He kens he’s yer da.”
Broch closed the door behind him and moved to her. He wrapped his hands around her raised arms and gently pulled them back down to her lap.
“Sweet Cat. Dinnae git yerself in a bother. Tak’ it bit by bit.”
His voice was soft and it disarmed her agitation for a moment.
“But how?” she asked, hearing herself sound a touch whiny.
He held up his index finger, counting off the ways. “First, Luther is alive. ‘Tis a guid thing, aye?”
She nodded. “Yes. It’s great. But now he’s some kind of blue lightning—”
“Kin ye blether tae him?”
She considered this. She hadn’t had any trouble talking to him. He seemed like the same old Luther. “Yes.”
“Does he sound lik’ Luther whin he answers ye? Can he hug ye?”
“Yes.”
“Sae, whofur cares if he looks lik’ lightning bugs in a jar? He’s back.”
Catriona giggled. “You’re right.” She slipped her hands beneath his shirt and rested her palms on either sides of his hips, maneuvering him to stand between her legs. Slowly, she slid her hands upward, lifting his shirt to reveal his rippling stomach muscles as if they were actors making a curtain call.
He chuckled. “Whit are ye doin’?”
The sides of his body felt warm and smooth as she eased up his ribs.
“I’m taking off your shirt,” she said, her voice falling to a whisper. “Keep talking. You’re making me feel better.”
“Bit it’s hard tae think when yer—”
She banged against the underside of his biceps until he raised his arms and allowed her to pull off his shirt by standing on the foot rail of her stool. Catriona ran her hands across his chest as his tee tumbled to the ground.
“Luther was first. What’s second?” she asked, leaning forward to kiss the divot between his pecs. She heard him groan.
“Second was Anne,” he mumbled. “She’s here to help.”
“Is she?”
“Aye.”
“You promise?”
“Ah promise.” Broch took her shirt by the bottom and lifted it over her head before dropping it on top of his own on the floor. He leaned to kiss the spot where her neck and shoulder met as he unclasped her bra and sent it to the floor with the rest of their clothes.
“How did you know how to undo that?” she asked as his palm brushed the side of her breast.
Broch breathed a laugh that tickled her ear and made her eyes flutter shut. “Ah’ve been dreaming of opening that infernal contraption fer months. Practicing in mah mind.”
She chuckled and then sobered. “Anne wants me to kill my family.”
Broch’s arms encircled her and he swept her off the stool. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she locked her ankles as he shifted one hand beneath her butt, the other steadying her back. He held her chest tight to his as she slipped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek on his shoulder.
“She said thay wilnae be murdered. They'll return healthy n’ happy. Juist lik’ travelin’ through time,” he murmured in her ear as he carried her to her bedroom.
She nodded. “I suppose we traveled and it didn’t hurt.”
“Nae. We’re here. Healthy n’ happy.”
He laid her on the bed and lowered himself down on her, the weight of him sending a jolt of anticipation through her.
“What about us?” she asked.
He stared down into her eyes with an intensity she’d rarely seen in him.
“Yer mine,” he said, running his thumb along her cheekbone.
“But the marriage was a mistake—”
Brochan placed his index finger across her lips to hush her. “It wasn’t a mistake. Ah’m tired o’ telling ye, wummin. Nae, ah’m needin’ tae prove it tae ye.”
He moved away his finger and kissed her, gently at first and then with increasing intensity. Whatever doubt remained in her mind were erased like a sandcastle against the rising tide.
As his lips moved down her body and his hands slid away her jeans, she was struck by a sudden realization.
I know him.
Every move, every touch, felt familiar.
Her mind flooded with memories. They’d kissed a million times. She’d felt his hands on her body a million times. Their flesh young. Their flesh old. Two lovers hopelessly intertwined since time before time. A hundred lifetimes together as friends and lovers.
The relationships she’d known in L.A.—the way things had never felt right—suddenly made sense. Her confession to Pete. Her need to run.
She wasn’t hers to give.
I was always his.
He was always mine.
Years of blaming herself, insecurities and pain—everything washed away with one racking sob.
He looked at her, concerned, and she smiled to let him know not to worry. She needed him to know her cries came from a place of almost unbearable joy.
“It’s you,” she said, pulling him to her. “It’s always been you.”
He smiled, his eyes, too, already glistening with tears.
“Ah’ve always been yours, Catriona. Ah live ainlie fer ye. Ah needed ye tae see it.”
He kissed her the way she remembered he could.
And always would.
Chapter Thirty-Two
On day three, Rune unsnapped the cuffs from Fiona’s ankle and allowed her to wander around the house. It wasn’t ideal, because if she thought the living room was small, dirty and depressing, the rest of the house only further soured her mood.
Joseph was rarely home. Rune stayed close, but even he had to go to the bathroom, and when he did he insisted she sing to prove she was still nearby, signaling like a cat with a bell around her neck.
In some small way, Fiona felt her singing was payback for her imprisonment.
She sang like a wounded frog.
Still, she could have left. She could have found a way. But she’d become more intrigued by Rune and Joseph’s plans to rule the world.
Maybe winning an Oscar had been too small a dream. Maybe it was time to think big.
Fiona insisted Rune make them coffee and bacon shortly before Joseph left at his usual time, around ten a.m. She guessed Joseph had a job, because nothing about the man implied he was interesting enough to have a life outside the house for any other reason. He’d even reduced recruiting an army to conquer the world down to keeping a spreadsheet, sending out emails and trolling chatrooms.
Rune appeared surprised she wanted coffee and bacon, but didn’t seem suspicious. If anything, he looked pleased. He didn’t seem to eat as often as normal people, but he loved his coffee and she’d seen him devour a pound of bacon. Maybe he ate out. Although the last time he’d left the house while Joseph was there to watch her and she’d asked if he’d eaten, he just smiled. He’d been flushed and happy and had a woman’s scarf around his neck.
The fact that he looked somehow younger gave her hope.
The bacon hadn’t made him look younger.
She imagined she had her father to thank for her slight figure, which she was able to maintain with very little dieting. Rune never seemed to gain an ounce, so she concluded eating people’s energy didn’t pack on the pounds.
Bonus.
If cutting out carbs and sugar made her lose weight, imagine cutting out food.
But her bacon request was less about Keto and more about the effect it had on Rune. The last time they’d had it, he’d stayed in the bathroom much longer than usual. Something about the grease, she suspected.
They made idle taking-over-the-world chit-chat as they sipped their coffee and munched their crispy pork products, until Rune set down his plate and stood.
She’d timed it perfectly. Joseph left almost the exact moment her father stood.
“Start singing,” he said, heading for the bathroom, a twinge of panic in his eye.
She smiled. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star…”
The moment Rune disappeared into the bathroom, Fiona leapt to her feet and scampered toward Joseph’s bedroom. He’d locked the door, but the key hovered above on the trim. She’d seen him stand on his tippy-toes to reach it.
Idiot.
She grabbed the key, trying to lower her volume so it wouldn’t be so obvious she’d moved into the hall as she opened the door.
Joseph’s laptop sat on his desk, the lid open.
Oh please, oh please…
She tapped the return key and the screen lit. She sat staring at the desktop. She’d caught it in time. The computer hadn’t yet gone to sleep and she didn’t need to enter the password.
Bingo.
“Up above the world so high…”
Fiona navigated the laptop until she found a spreadsheet filled with the emails, usernames and real names. The name of the file was minions.
Not too obvious.
She emailed the file to herself at her personal and work email addresses and then deleted her message to herself in his sent folder. Poking around, she found a few more files: several drafts of a manifesto, a few to-do lists and a smattering of other files with names like kill list and enemies. Things she thought might be important. She sent them all to herself. After about the fifth kill list she almost found herself wishing she’d found a cache of porn. Something to make the little creep seem human.
He might have been single-minded, but he wasn’t terribly bright. It would be a cold day in Hollywood before Joseph ended up in charge of herself and the others. Fiona felt a trill run through her body.
I think I’ve found my calling.
Rune hadn’t been able to turn her, like he hoped, but he had helped her realize her destiny. She’d even all but forgotten about her acting career. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she wasn’t so worried about her fading looks or the crow’s feet beside her eyes.
After all, adoration came in many forms.
Fiona ran back into the hall, pressing in the lock on the knob as she slipped through the doorway. She eased the door shut and replaced the key in its lofty spot.
She’d just returned to the sofa when she heard Rune flush.
A moment later, he entered the room looking sheepish.
“I wouldn’t go in there right away.”
She smiled. “No problem.”
The back door banged and Joseph appeared, looking flustered.
“We’ve got trouble.”
Rune’s eyes widened. “What is it?”
“My cameras went off out front. There are people coming.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. The cameras are a little fuzzy.”
Fiona leaned forward to look out the window and spotted movement outside on the street. A couple was headed for their house. She had to admit, they were much too good-looking to be from the neighborhood. The man had a delectable swagger that made her want to conquer him and take her time doing it. The redheaded woman looked like a model.
A young model.
Bitch.
Joseph jumped to grab his key from the trim and opened his bedroom door.
“Was someone in here?” she heard him call.
Fiona pretended not to hear and if Rune heard, he was too busy peeking through the front blinds to answer.
Joseph appeared a moment later wearing a black vest covered in straps and strange pockets with the hilts of silver knives peeking from them.
Fiona couldn’t help but laugh.
Joseph shot her a look, his expression darkening. “You won’t be laughing at me much longer,” he said, too quietly for Rune to hear.
She snorted a laugh. “Suck it, little man.”
Joseph pulled weapons from his wall and slid the smaller ones into the available straps on his jacket.
“You made that yourself, didn’t you?” Fiona said, much more loudly, hoping to draw her father’s attention to the loon he’d hooked his wagon to.
Joseph didn’t look at her. “Yes. And I applied for a patent.”
“Good luck with that.”
Rune turned from the window. “I counted two but there could be more. They’re definitely coming this way.”
Joseph nodded toward Fiona. “Secure her in the shed out back. We can use her if we end up in a hostage situation.”
Rune nodded and grabbed Fiona’s arm, tugging her toward the back of the house.
They burst through a crooked screen door to enter the backyard. Fiona squinted in the sun. It had been a while.
“Dad. Stop.”
Rune paused and looked at her.
“Joseph’s going to get himself killed. I’m a hostage, I’ll be fine. And if we get caught I’ll vouch for you. I’ll tell the cops you were kidnapped, too. They are cops, right? They’re coming for me?” Fiona thought about the model couple she’d seen outside Joseph’s window.
Come to think of it, they didn’t look like cops.
Rune’s shoulders bobbed. “I don’t know.”
Fiona thought hard on what she wanted from the situation at hand.
Do I want to lose Rune yet?
The answer was obvious.
No.
I need him to show me how to get the power.
“You need to go,” she said, pushing him towards the back fence.
“What?”
“You need to go. I’ll point them in the wrong direction. Run that way.”
“But I have to go help Joseph—”
“Joseph is an idiot. He’s going to get us all killed.”
Rune looked pained. “Joseph has our list. We need those people.”
“I have the list.”
“What?”
“I have the list. I grabbed it while you were in the bathroom.”
Rune frowned. “You know, I thought your singing sounded funny but, to be honest, it’s hard to tell with the fan on.”
“I did it for us. In case something like this happened. You and I have a chance to get out of here. It’s you and me, Dad. We don’t need Joseph.”
Rune stared back at the house. “You have the list? You’re sure?”
“I do.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand again and dragged her towards the fence.
She dug in as the heel of Catriona’s cheap shoes snapped. “Leave me. You go.”
“No. I can’t.”
“They think I’m a hostage. They won’t hurt me. Then I can keep an eye on them and you’ll be safe. I’ll be your spy.”
Rune hemmed and then nodded. “You’re right. It’s a good plan.” He took her by the shoulders. “Be careful, Rabbit.”
Fiona gasped. Rune hadn’t called her Rabbit since she was little, during the happy times. The times before he fell mad.
She felt tears brim her eyes.
“You, too, Daddy.”
Rune kissed her on her forehead and then turned to run, looking like a long-legged spider as he clambered over the metal fence.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Broch opened his eyes.
Somethin’s different.
He looked to his right and saw Catriona lying beside him, the glow of the morning sun just bright enough to see the peach-fuzz scattered across her naked upper thigh.
She breathed in slow, steady inhales, a tiny smile across her beautiful lips.
My Catriona.
He held still, barely breathing, unsure whether to wake her and take her again in the glow of a new day, or let her sleep, peacefully, hopefully dreaming of his body against hers.
What was that phrase he’d heard the people at the studio say?
It was a tough call.
Before he could decide, her phone rang on the bed stand next to her and her hand reached out to grab it, her eyes never ope
ning. Years of muscle memory acted as it thought it should.
“Hello? Hm? Oh.”
Catriona’s eyes opened and she looked down at her naked body and then at him. He suffered the urge to hide, worrying her expression would flood with regret. Instead, she blushed and smiled.
Happiness flowed in his veins, warming every inch of his flesh.
Then, she scowled, her attention stolen by the voice on the other end of the line.
“Really? Like now? Okay. Okay.”
She hung up.
“Whit is it?” he asked reaching out to stroke her hip with his fingertips. He couldn’t help himself.
“It was Anne. They found Rune and Fiona. She needs us to go with her.”
“Nae?” Dreams of a lazy morning in her kip dissipated like morning fog on a sunny day.
“Now.”
She rolled to him and kissed him, pushing him down so she could straddle him.
“That isnae fair,” he said, barely, as the breath was stolen from his lungs by a rush of desire.
“Of course,” she whispered, rolling toward him. “Now is so subjective.”
***
It wasn’t long until they arrived at Anne’s.
Should have been a wee longer.
Their time in Catriona’s bed had been too short. But he wasn’t the only one unable to resist finishing, so he didn’t feel too bad.
When Anne answered their knock, she immediately cocked her head, grinning.
“What are you two up to?”
Catriona giggled. “What?”
The sound of her mirth made Broch grin. He couldn’t stop it, as much as he wanted to appear tough and professional in front of the woman who seemed to be their new boss. He glanced at Catriona and she peeked at him.
Ah juist want tae grab her and steal her away.
Anne laughed. “You two are too much. Follow me.”
She walked past them to the garage where a man sat, legs dangling from the driver’s side of a black Range Rover. “This is Con. He’s—” Anne seemed at a loss to describe him and let her attempt die on the vine.
“Ready for the big time, boyo?” Con asked Broch, standing to entangle him with a bracing slap of an embrace. His accent was Irish and Broch stood his ground as their bodies bounced off each other’s. The Irishman seemed less excited to see him and more interested in testing his strength.
