Lingerie Wars

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

There were women pawing at him. There were women whispering promises in his ears. There were women taking photos of their friends as they draped themselves over him. They thought this was part of the show. The catwalk was suddenly full of people strutting their stuff as they pretended to be models. It was all good-natured fun and Lake didn’t mind it one bit. Although he did wish he’d had time to pull on his jeans.

  At the back of the crowd, beside the marquee entrance, Lake spotted Kirsty’s mum. She was jumping up and down, waving frantically. Lake smiled at her, then stilled. Her face was grey. She seemed distressed. She mouthed a word—help. He scanned the room for Kirsty. She was nowhere in sight. Help, her mother mouthed again. Tears glistened on her cheeks.

  Lake pushed through the group around him. The more people he urged out of his way, the more there seemed to be. Behind him, Betty and the other models were now on the runway dancing along with the audience. With a deep breath, he jumped off the stage and into the crowd.

  There were excited squeals as the women thought he was joining them. Camera flashes went off around him. The laughter was deafening. Lake pushed through the people, tripping over abandoned handbags and blankets. At last he reached the door and Kirsty’s mother.

  “What is it? Where’s Kirsty?”

  “He took her,” she said. She was trembling.

  “Who?”

  Instead of answering, she sobbed. For the first time since his youth, he had to work at staying calm. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to roar. He wanted to remove everything that stood between himself and Kirsty.

  Behind him the women of Knit Or Die came screeching to a halt.

  “What on earth is going on?” Shona demanded.

  Kirsty’s mother didn’t know whom to answer first. Lake put his hand on her arm. She turned to him.

  “Who took Kirsty?” he said.

  “Brandon.”

  Everything within him stopped dead. The women gasped. Heather wrapped an arm around Kirsty’s mother.

  “Where?” Lake said.

  It was hard to get the word out, his jaw was clenched so tightly.

  “I don’t know,” Kirsty’s mum said. “He dragged her up the high street. She told me to get you.”

  He nodded and turned towards the door. Kirsty’s mum put a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “I saw a knife,” she said as she started to shake.

  “Oh my goodness,” Jean wailed.

  Betty appeared, charging through the crowd in her red nightie.

  “What the hairy hell is going on?” she demanded.

  “We need to get to him before he hurts Kirsty,” Margaret said.

  The rest of the women nodded solemnly—even Betty, who didn’t have a clue what was going on.

  “You lot stay here,” Lake ordered. “I’ll handle this.”

  “In your birthday suit?” Betty said.

  Lake ignored her. He stared the women down.

  “I’m serious. Don’t interfere. You could make matters worse.”

  They stared back at him, clearly ignoring everything he said. There was no time to deal with them. He had to get to Kirsty.

  Margaret Campbell sobbed beside him as her friends cooed words of comfort.

  “It’s okay,” Lake told her. “He won’t hurt her. I won’t let him.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. Lake pushed the marquee flap back. He couldn’t see Kirsty, there were too many people. But he knew where she would be. He should have looked into that necklace when Brandon first showed an interest in it. He knew there was something else going on. He knew it in his gut. And now this? He hadn’t even told Kirsty how dangerous the guy was. Fury coursed through him. It was his fault and he knew exactly how to fix it.

  Behind him someone shouted, “Come on, girls. Let’s get Kirsty!”

  Without a second’s hesitation, Lake ran out into the night.

  Brandon pushed Kirsty through the bustling market and up the high street to her home. He was moving so fast that she found it difficult to keep up on the high-heeled boots she wore. She stumbled over the uneven road. Brandon tightened his grip on the inside of her upper arm as he yanked her forward. All the while, his right hand held a knife to her side.

  “Kirsty,” someone called out to her. “Great show. I voted for you.”

  She tried to smile, but it was too difficult.

  “Don’t stop to talk to anyone. You don’t want to endanger them, do you?”

  Kirsty hated him for that comment alone. Even after years of knowing Brandon, intimately, she realised that she’d never known him at all. This man, this vile man, was so far removed from the man she thought she’d loved that it made her nauseous.

  “You’re despicable,” she told him.

  He smiled thinly.

  They marched around the stalls and people chatting in the street. Underfoot, the now icy snow crunched in the areas where it hadn’t been totally compacted by the many feet. Bizarrely, Kirsty found herself wondering if anyone had thought to salt the street the following morning, otherwise the pavements would be covered in a deadly layer of ice. She knew, in some part of her brain, that her inane thoughts had more to do with the shock of the situation than the reality.

  “Why are you doing this?” she said.

  “Why do you care?” He seemed amused.

  “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” She tried to pull away from him, but he held her tighter. “You left me broken and penniless.”

  His smirk turned her stomach.

  “I didn’t leave you without resources. Women like you can always find what you want in someone’s bed.”

  He ran his gaze over her body and she shuddered. The thought that she’d let this man touch her was too much to bear.

  “Was anything real?” she said. “Any of it?”

  “You mean us?”

  “I mean everything.”

  He actually laughed.

  “We had fun, if that’s what you mean, and I probably would have gone through with the wedding. Back then you were surprisingly useful and conveniently gullible. It was entertaining.”

  “You used me.” She meant their relationship and her feelings for him, but he misunderstood.

  “You were the best damn mule in the business. You could walk a fortune in blood diamonds through airport security, and no one blinked an eye. They were all too enamoured by your tits and legs.”

  He ran a hand over her hip to cup her backside. Kirsty shuddered as she pulled away from him.

  “Now, now, Kirsty,” he said with a smile. “You can’t fool me. Remember, I know exactly what you like.”

  To Kirsty’s shame, she couldn’t think of anything to say in reply. Panic was taking over her brain. Panic from the repulsion she felt at his touch.

  “I nearly pissed myself laughing that time we were flying out of Kenya and you tried to give away the necklace to a woman who admired it.” He acted as though they were old friends wandering down memory lane. All the while his fingers were digging into her backside and his knife pressed the skin over her kidney. “It was our thing, remember? We’d travel and I’d buy you some worthless piece of jewellery for you to wear on the trip. You were so pleased at the gesture and so damn bubble-headed that you never even noticed when I swapped them out for a similar piece once we got home.”

  He laughed hard at that.

  “Poor, dumb, Kirsty,” he said sadly. “I miss having you around to do my dirty work.”

  Kirsty struggled to steady her breathing. She started to feel lightheaded and her fingers tingled. The initial shock of the night had worn off and anxiety was setting in. Only this time, there were no strong hands on her shoulders to make it stop. In fact, there was no Lake at all.

  As they approached her shop, the Donaldson twins waved from their stall and cast curious glances at Brandon. The carol singers were still in full swing in front of her window. They sang of Good Will To All Men, which was weirdly out of place in her mind.

  “Are you okay?” one of the
twins asked, while looking nervously at Brandon.

  He pushed his knife deeper into her side, making her wince, but effectively reminding her not to involve anyone.

  “Fine,” Kirsty said as her heart raced out of control.

  “Where is it?” Brandon said in her ear. “Upstairs in the flat, or in the shop?”

  “Shop,” Kirsty said.

  They walked to the front door. Kirsty pulled her keys out from the pocket in her dress. She fumbled as Brandon held her arm tightly. Tight enough for there to be bruises. If she made it out alive.

  “Hurry up,” he snapped.

  Kirsty dropped the keys. Brandon cursed loud enough for the carol singer standing closest to hear. She scowled at him. Kirsty picked the keys from the icy ground with fingers that were tingling so badly she could hardly feel the metal in her hand. Breathe. Just breathe, she told herself. Slow. Shallow. Breathe. Brandon poked the blade into her and she whimpered. Her throat began to close up.

  “Give me the damn keys,” Brandon ordered.

  “I don’t think so,” said the steely voice she knew so well.

  Relief made tears fall—Lake was here. Brandon’s head snapped around.

  “What the hell are you supposed to be?” Brandon sneered as the singers grew silent.

  When Kirsty saw Lake, her eyes went wide. Her hero had ridden in wearing only his underpants. Her relief at seeing him was almost overwhelming.

  “I see underpants, but I don’t see a cape,” Brandon told Lake. “You want to back off, Superman? This is none of your business.”

  “He doesn’t need to be superhuman to kick your scrawny wee bum,” Betty called out as she ran up beside Lake.

  She bent over double and gasped for breath. A second later Kirsty noticed a line form behind Lake. She felt some of the tension ease from her throat. The women of Invertary had come out in force and they looked meaner than a pack of rabid dogs.

  “They’re your backup?” Brandon scoffed. “What do you think they’ll do? Talk me to death?”

  The women growled and took a step forward. Lake held his hand up to stop them, and they all stopped dead.

  “Release Kirsty now,” Lake ordered.

  “Or what?” Brandon laughed. “You’ll get your granny there to sit on me?”

  “I’ll granny you, you rude wee smell.” Betty rolled up her sleeves on her robe.

  “Let go of Kirsty now,” Lake said easily. “These women are itching to get their hands on you. I’m pretty sure that they’ve been planning your death since you walked out on Kirsty. Trust me, they’re creative. You don’t want this going their way.”

  Brandon flashed his knife and some of the women gasped. He yanked Kirsty closer. She winced at the pain of his grip. Lake never took his eyes off of Brandon, but Kirsty knew he was aware of everything she felt. She could see it in the way his jaw clenched each time she felt pain.

  “I’m the one with the power here,” Brandon said.

  Kirsty groaned as Brandon twisted the knife in her side.

  “Breathe slowly, babe,” Lake told her. “This will be over soon.”

  Brandon laughed hard.

  “You’re with that?” he said as he gestured to Lake. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

  Kirsty ignored him and concentrated on breathing, which was a whole lot easier now that Lake was there.

  “Get out of the way, Lake,” Shona shouted. “We’ll sort him out.”

  “I’ve been practising for this,” Jean said.

  “You’re dead meat, son,” Betty said.

  Brandon smirked at the women before talking to Lake.

  “Back off or Kirsty gets another scar.”

  Lake growled deep in his throat.

  “You harm her,” Lake said, “and I will kill you slowly.”

  “Get lost, Superman,” Brandon told him. “And take the witches with you.”

  The carol singers were beginning to inch away. Lake’s face was a mask. There was no emotion showing at all. His arms hung loosely at his side and his feet were slightly apart. Kirsty recognised it as a fight stance he’d shown her one night. Brandon wrapped his arm around her neck and crushed her to him.

  “Kirsty,” Lake said evenly. “How about you use what you learnt in class?”

  Kirsty’s lower lip trembled. She couldn’t. She looked at Lake. His eyes said he knew she could.

  “You can do it, Kirsty,” shouted Jean.

  “Three,” Lake said. “Two.”

  Kirsty took a deep and very shaky breath.

  “Who the hell are you, anyway?” Brandon mocked. “Do I look like I’m a toddler? Counting down isn’t going to make me back off.”

  “One,” Lake said. It was almost a growl.

  Kirsty elbowed Brandon in the side and he grunted. She stamped on his foot, swung her other elbow towards his head and felt it glance off his cheek and then she thumped him between the legs. Brandon groaned and his grip loosened. Kirsty tore herself away from him. There was a sharp pain in her side. She yelped and stumbled onto the ground. She scrambled away from Brandon. Lake’s focus wasn’t on her. He clenched his fists and lowered his head. He was ferocious.

  “Time’s up,” Lake said.

  He launched himself at Brandon.

  Lake’s training kicked in fast. He aimed high at a pressure point on the arm holding the knife and hit it hard. Brandon’s arm loosened. Lake punched the son of a bitch in the gut. He grabbed the arm with the knife and felt a blow to his kidney. Lake turned into Brandon and put his weight behind his elbow as it swung up and connected with Brandon’s jaw. Brandon’s head twisted, but he bounced back fast. The scumbag knew how to fight. Legs apart, he wielded his knife with a smile on his face, making Lake painfully aware that he didn’t have any clothes on.

  “You’re going to regret that,” Brandon said.

  Lake didn’t say anything. Idiots wasted time talking when they should be fighting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kirsty’s mother drag her to safety. Someone screamed. People fell over one another in their rush to get away. There were too many obstacles in the way. The carol singers were trapped between the market table and Kirsty’s shop window. They were huddled as far away from Brandon as they could get. One of the older women was sobbing. Lake knew he had to get Brandon away from the crowd before someone got hurt. Behind him, the street was full of people. The carol singers were on his left and Kirsty was on his right. That left only one option.

  “I’m going to gut you like a fish, then deal with your girlfriend.” Brandon liked the sound of his own voice. “Bet it galls that I had her first.” He sneered in Kirsty’s direction. “I got the better version of her. You get the less-than-perfect seconds. I wouldn’t go near what’s left of her, it isn’t worth the trouble.”

  Those words caused Lake to do something he never did. He lost his temper. With a roar, he rushed at Brandon. He wrapped his hands in the scumbag’s shirt, headbutted him and heard the satisfying crack as his nose broke. Then he used all of his strength and pushed the two of them into the only place he knew to be free of innocent bystanders.

  With an almighty crash, he launched them through the window and into Kirsty’s shop.

  Kirsty’s mother fell to her knees beside Kirsty.

  “Oh, my poor baby,” she cooed as she gathered Kirsty into her arms.

  For a second she let herself be comforted.

  “I need to see, Mum,” she told her.

  Together they watched in horror as Brandon and Lake fought in her shop. Lingerie was scattered. Fixtures were broken. Brandon punched Lake and the crowd gasped. Lake pounded him in return and there were whoops of joy.

  “Go, Lake!” someone shouted and a chant started. “Go, Lake. Go, Lake.”

  Kirsty stood horrified as she watched every blow. She felt sick as she saw the knife flash through the air. Lake jumped backwards, avoiding the blade. Brandon kicked him and he fell towards the window.

  “Look out,” a caroller shouted.

  A second la
ter Lake and Brandon flew back through the window and into the street. People screamed and scattered before making a circle around the men.

  “Go, Lake! Go, Lake!”

  The two men circled each other. Brandon still held the knife. There was blood on his face. Lake had blood on his arm, but otherwise seemed fine. Kirsty’s heart was in her throat. She thought she was going to die every time Brandon landed a blow. Lake’s face showed no emotion at all as he went after Brandon. He was completely relentless. And, of course, the women helped. When Brandon came too close to the edge of the crowd, Betty kicked him hard in the back of the ankle. He spun away, giving Lake enough time to punch him in the side. Brandon stepped back again and Jean whacked him with one of the Scottish flags that were placed around the market. It didn’t do much damage, but got a cheer from the crowd. Lake kicked Brandon in the stomach and sent him flying backwards. The crowd parted.

  “Go, Lake! Go, Lake!”

  “I can’t see what’s happening,” Kirsty wailed as people blocked her view.

  Even with the chanting she could hear the thud and smack of raining blows. It made her stomach turn. Had Lake been hurt? Was he okay?

  “What’s happening?” she shouted.

  “Lake’s beating your ex-boyfriend to a pulp,” someone shouted back.

  Another cheer went up.

  The fight moved up the high street away from her shop and Kirsty followed. She had to see what was happening. She had to know that Lake was okay.

  And then she heard a word that sent chills down her spine.

  Fire.

  She spun in the direction of the screams. The carol singers were hysterical. They pointed at her shop. There was wailing. Most terrifying of all, there were flames in the window of the shop.

  “Oh no,” one of the twins wailed. “The carol singers. Their candles were knocked into the shop. Somebody do something!”

  Kirsty watched as the flames engulfed the negligee set, then jumped to the rest of the lingerie, which had been packed into her window display.

  “Put that fire out,” someone shouted.

  Two men grabbed the large drinks cooler from beside the doughnut stall.

  “No!” screamed Claire.

  It was too late—the men threw the contents of the cooler over the fire. And the flames shot up to the ceiling.

  “It was oil,” Megan wailed.

  The two men stood dumbstruck as the fire ate up the lingerie on the racks. The whole of the shop window was engulfed in luminous orange flames. There were running footsteps behind Kirsty.

  “What’s happening?” Officer Donaldson demanded.

  Megan pointed to the shop and burst into tears.

  “Kirsty?” The policeman turned to her.

  Kirsty stared at her shop. In flames. Her whole life being eaten up. No. Not her whole life. Nowhere near it. She turned to the policeman.

  “Lake is up there.” She pointed at the crowd. “Brandon. He has a knife. They’re fighting. I can’t see them.”

  She knew tears were falling. They barely registered.

  “You need to help Lake,” she told Officer Donaldson.

  He nodded grimly.

  “Fergus,” he shouted. “Deal with the fire.”

  Kirsty’s eyes were glued to the flames. It was the one thing she feared. She was losing everything. Her heart stopped dead for a second. And then she turned her back on the shop. She turned and she ran.

  She ran towards what really mattered.

  She ran to Lake.

  Rainne snuggled in closer to Alastair. He pulled her tight to him as she draped her arm over his warm body.

  “It sounds like a street party,” he said sleepily. “Maybe there’s fireworks. I heard that there might be some.”

  “There’s enough fireworks in here for me,” Rainne mumbled against him.

  The vibrations from his chuckle rumbled through her body, making her smile.

  “One year, the guy doing the fireworks bought some really dodgy Chinese ones. The kind that blow off arms and legs. They’re illegal now, I think. He sailed out in his wee boat into the loch with the intention of staging a display over the water. The boat was too small and the first rocket was too strong. When it went off, it sent him flying out of the boat—but not before he’d set light to the next one. The whole load went up at the same time. Blew his boat to smithereens. He swam ashore. He was practically blue from the cold and seriously cheesed off about his boat. The town never left him in charge of the fireworks again.”

  Rainne smiled against his skin before turning her face to kiss his chest. Bliss. Lying in the soft light, listening to Alastair. It was perfect. Slowly, she ran her hand down his stomach, trailing fingers over tightly corded muscles. He caught her wrist before her hand strayed too low. Rainne grumbled and he laughed.

  “I’m worn out, lass,” he told her. “Give me a minute.”

  “How is that possible?” Rainne demanded as she propped herself up on an elbow to look into his beautiful brown eyes. “You’re in your sexual prime. You’re supposed to be able to go non-stop for days.”

  “Sexual prime?” he said as his eyebrows arched sceptically.

  “Yes,” Rainne said primly. “I read about it. Men peak around eighteen. So technically, you’re past it already.” She smiled sweetly. “Maybe that’s why you can’t keep up.”

  He flipped her onto her back and pinned her in place.

  “You cheeky wee thing,” he told her. “And when do women peak, exactly?”

  “Thirty-five,” she said. “I have years of stamina, desire and ability ahead of me. You, on the other hand, are stuffed. It’s all downhill for you from here on in.”

  Alastair laughed as he shook his head.

  “You have no idea what stamina is, Rainbow,” he told her in mock seriousness.

  “No?” she said with a smile.

  “I think I may have to show you,” he said before he leaned over to kiss the hollow in her neck, which make her head swim. “I feel I have a point to prove here,” he said as he kissed her lips softly. “I think you need to learn that there’s nothing at all wrong with my sexual peak.”

  Rainne giggled as she writhed against him.

  “I can feel your sexual peak,” she told him. “And I’m not convinced.”

  “Wretched lass,” he said as he captured her mouth with his.

  Soon his kisses took Rainne far away. She clung to him, feeling the promise of a future in every touch, and was lost in him.

  When Alastair had finished proving his point, Rainne lay wrapped in his arms. The silence and darkness conspired to become a blanket around her. She felt safe from tomorrow in her cocoon with Alastair. But sadly, tomorrow would come. And there were decisions to make.

  “I can hear you thinking,” Alastair teased. “Good things?”

  She could hear the sleep in his voice.

  “Absolutely,” she lied.

  His body tensed at the word.

  “Do you want to talk about earlier?” he said softly.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I got caught in a tug of war between Lake and my parents.”

  She tried to shrug it off, but she could still hear every painful word from the family argument as it echoed in her ears. Alastair squeezed her tight.

  “They don’t deserve you,” he said. “Don’t let it get to you. You’re your own person, Rainbow.”

  He yawned loudly and Rainne giggled. He wrapped her tight in his arms and she sighed against him.

  “This is the way it should be every day,” he told her, his words laced with sleep. “Stay here with me, Rainne,” he said. “This is where you belong.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and pressed a kiss to his chest to seal her words.

  “I don’t mean tonight. I mean forever.” His voice was heavy. “You belong to me, Rainbow. We belong together. Move in here. We’ll figure things out as we go.”

  Rainne’s heart beat faster. Alastair kissed her forehead softly.


  “Let me take care of you, Rainne,” he whispered as he fell asleep.

  Rainne lay in Alastair’s arms listening as his breathing became deep with sleep. Stay with him. It was so easy. A tear ran down her cheek. So easy. She’d gone from doing what her parents wanted to doing what Lake wanted, and now there was Alastair. It would be so easy to do what he wanted. To let him take care of her and to never have to stand up for herself. She wanted it. She knew he loved her. It was written in every look and kiss. There was no denying the boy was perfect. No. Not a boy. An honourable man.

  When Rainne was sure that he was sound asleep, she slid out from his embrace and silently pulled on her clothes. On the desk, she found a pen and paper. I can’t, I have to leave. Please understand, was all she wrote before she put the note on the bed beside him. With one last look at her beautiful Scottish boy, Rainne slipped through the door and down the stairs. She borrowed a coat from the hook beside the door and went out into the night.

  There was a glow over central Invertary. The party was in full swing. She turned her back on it and walked down the side streets to the main road out of town. She had her wallet in her pocket and nothing else. Everything she owned was in the flat above Lake’s shop. Never her shop. Always Lake’s.

  She stuck out her thumb when a campervan came up the road. It slowed to a stop beside her. An older couple she’d met in the shop the day before waved out at her.

  “What on earth are you doing out here this time of night?” the woman who was driving asked.

  “I’m going to Glasgow,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’re heading in that direction?”

  The couple shared a look.

  “Wouldn’t you rather wait until morning and get the bus?”

  Rainne wiped a tear from her face.

  “I have to leave now,” she said.

  The woman gave a terse nod.

  “Get in the back, love. Donald will make you a cup of tea.”

  A second later the door opened and Rainne climbed in gratefully.

  “We have four daughters,” Donald said as he put the kettle on.

  His wife appeared beside him. She put a hand on his arm and communicated by telepathy.

  “It’s your turn to drive,” she told him out loud.

  “You’re right there,” he said, and was gone in a shot.

  The woman patted Rainne’s hand.

  “I’m Isobel, love,” she said as she opened the cupboard over the tiny alcove table. “I’m sure there’s chocolate biscuits in here somewhere.”

  Rainne let her tears fall.

  Lake heard the calls of “fire”. He didn’t let it distract him. His focus was on the fight. On beating sissy boy Brandon to a bloody pulp. He just wished the crowd wasn’t watching as he did it. They moved with him up the street, keeping a perimeter around them and chanting as though they were at a boxing match.

  He watched as Brandon wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” he told Lake.

  Lake shifted to the left. His toes were now completely numb from the ice underneath them. At least he couldn’t feel the cuts from the broken glass. Still, he needed to end this. Fast. He manoeuvred Brandon, and the crowd, towards the wall beside the church.

  “Go, Lake! Go, Lake!” the crowd shouted.

  He circled Brandon and jabbed him in the kidney. Brandon swung at him. He was fast. The tip of the blade left a line of blood trailing down Lake’s right arm. The crowd booed.

  “You think I’m scared of you?” Brandon mocked.

  Lake knew Brandon should be scared. The fact he wasn’t meant he was stupid. And stupid was dangerous. Lake aimed a fist at his shoulder, kicked at this knee and punched him in the stomach to send him back into the wall beside the church. Brandon recovered quickly and lunged at Lake. He turned the knife so that it was point down and sliced at Lake as he came at him. Lake blocked his moves, but Brandon kicked his knee and Lake’s jaw clenched with pain. As Brandon passed him, he elbowed Lake in the back, hard. Lake rocked forward, spun and kicked, getting Brandon in the side.

  “When I’m done with you,” Brandon said, “I’m going out there and I’m going to get Kirsty. I have some unfinished business with her.” He leered. “Maybe I should see for myself what it is that she has to offer that’s worth fighting for.”

  Lake jabbed him in the jaw, then threw his body into Brandon, capturing his knife hand. With Brandon at his back, Lake bent the scumbag’s right arm in the wrong direction in an attempt to shake the knife free. Brandon wrapped his free arm around Lake’s neck in a chokehold. The guy was strong. Brandon stamped on his foot. Lake clenched his teeth, but didn’t let go of the hand holding the knife.

  “Go, Lake! Go, Lake!”

  “Smash his smarmy face in,” Betty shouted.

  At last, Brandon’s grip loosened. The knife fell on the snow.

  There was a loud roar of approval.

  Lake elbowed Brandon in the stomach, once, twice, three times, pushing him back into the wall. Using his weight, he rammed Brandon against the wall and freed himself from the chokehold. Brandon regrouped. He wrapped an arm around Lake’s shoulder and with his free hand punched Lake’s kidney until it felt like the blood vessels in his eyes were bursting. Brandon slid out from behind Lake and kicked him hard into the wall. Lake grunted as he felt a rib crack.

  “Come on, Lake,” someone shouted. “You can do it!”

  He took a deep breath and charged Brandon. He grabbed him around the waist and together they flew forward and sprawled in the snow.

  Lake was on his feet first.

  “Get him, girls,” a woman’s voice cried.

  Before Lake could do anything, Jean launched herself through the air and landed on Brandon. A second later she was joined by two other women.

  “Geronimo,” screamed Betty as she threw herself on top of the heap.

  The town descended on Brandon. Suddenly there was a pile of people where Brandon used to be. For a second Lake didn’t know what to do. He stood poised to fight, ready to finish things, and couldn’t even see his opponent. He took a step towards them. He couldn’t let the women get hurt. He’d pull them off the idiot if he had to. Then he saw one of the men remove his belt and hand it to Heather.

  “I’ve tied his feet,” Heather called. “Who’s got his hands?”

  “Nearly done,” came the reply.

  “Gag him too,” shouted Betty. “I’m sick of his whiny wee voice.”

  Lake stopped dead. Slowly, he shook his head as he smiled. One thing was for sure, Invertary had never needed his self-defence classes.

  Kirsty arrived at the fight in time to see Betty launch herself on the Brandon pile-up. She faltered slightly at the sight then she saw Lake and no longer cared about Brandon, or what the women of Invertary would do with him. She rushed towards Lake as he smiled at the people piled on top of Brandon.

  “Lake,” she shouted.

  Her heart beat so fast it was painful as he turned towards her. She had no words for the look in his eyes. It was just for her. She threw herself at him.

  “Oomph,” he grunted as he wrapped an arm around her.

  “I thought you were dead,” she said as she buried her face in his shoulder.

  He pulled back from her, still holding her tight, and looked down at her.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You thought that in a fight, your sissy ex-fiancé would win?”

  “No,” she said. “I mean, maybe. Well, look at yourself. You’re naked and he had a knife. It wasn’t exactly a fair fight.”

  “You’re right there. It wasn’t a fair fight,” Lake told her, clearly offended. “I’m a trained professional and he’s an idiot.”

  Kirsty found herself smiling in spite of everything.

  “Can we deal with your wounded ego later?” she said. “We have other problems.”

  “Like what?” He shrugged and she felt the action ripple through her body. “The women
have the idiot under control. What more is there?”

  “My shop is on fire,” she said.

  He stilled.

  “Don’t joke.”

  “No joke.”

  She wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t want to think about the fire. There was nothing she could do there anyway, except try to put the blaze out with her mind. Others were dealing with it. Right now, she needed to be with Lake.

  “We better go see what’s happening,” Lake told her.

  She shook her head against him. She’d deal with the shop later.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked instead.

  “Cuts and bruises,” Lake told her, and pulled her tight.

  She squeezed him hard. He groaned.

  “There might be a broken rib or two,” he added.

  She loosened her grip and started to step away from him.

  “You could have told me,” she said.

  He pulled her back against him.

  “I want you here,” he said.

  Kirsty smiled as she let out a deep sigh. This is where she wanted to be too. Here. With Lake.

  “Get off that man,” Officer Donaldson’s voice carried over the crowd. “Or I’ll arrest you for obstruction.”

  “Then I’ll sue for stupidity,” Betty’s voice shouted back.

  Lake limped towards the noise, dragging Kirsty with him. Kirsty looked down at the snow and winced—blood. So much for cuts and bruises. She had to find some shoes and clothes for the man. She held him tight. Soon. Very soon.

  As the crowd parted, Lake began to laugh. Kirsty felt it vibrate through her. She looked to see what was funny and grinned. Brandon was trussed up like a chicken and Betty was sitting on him, holding the Scottish flag that Jean had been using as a weapon.

  “I’m warning you,” Officer Donaldson said. “Get off that man.”

  “Quick,” Betty shouted at the crowd. “Someone take a picture so I can send it to the interweb.”

  Cameras flashed as Betty beamed a wide—and very gummy—grin.

  Kirsty looked down at the gagged and bound Brandon. It took all of her self-control not to kick the man.

  “He’s not worth it,” Lake said, as though reading her mind.

  “At least he didn’t get the necklace,” Kirsty said. “Which means I have a whole load of diamonds.”

  “Diamonds, huh?” Lake said. “That makes sense. I wouldn’t get too excited, though—you can’t sell illegal diamonds.”

  “That’s just pants,” Kirsty said as she snuggled in closer. “I was right about that necklace all along. It is a piece of junk.”

  Lake chuckled beside her and together they watched as Betty bounced on Brandon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE