by Jackie Ivie
“Maybe I should try again?” she offered.
“To what end?”
“So you can find him! That stake-thing was all the way in his back. He has to be hurt. He’s probably bleeding to death somewhere out there.”
“We’ve sent for a forensic psychologist, Miss Sanders.”
“He won’t need that! He’ll need an ambulance. Or...a coroner.”
“For you,” he told her.
“Me?” Marla’s mouth went dry. Her palms didn’t match. They felt sweaty. Shaky. And she really needed to visit a bathroom.
“Yes. You.”
“But why? I didn’t do anything. I’m nobody. The owner of a small shop in Las Vegas. I study astrology. Give readings. I have a lot of customers, mainly wanting advice on their love life – which, if you think about it is pretty ironic at the moment. I haven’t been in trouble with the law. Ever. You are definitely a Taurus. And I need to use the facilities.”
“Again?”
“Yes.”
She looked at him levelly. It was the same expression he was giving her.
“Very well. I’ll get your escort.”
The same woman came for her. Marla didn’t speak to her. After trying the last two times and receiving nothing, she’d given up. Marla worked at keeping the grimace from her face. She needed to count her blessings here. She hadn’t had much sleep and it felt like she was in the same movie playing the same scene over and over, but they brought her food and drink. She wasn’t shackled. They were being very polite.
It could be worse. A lot worse.
She was taken to the same little room off the hall as before. Her escort turned on the light before leaving her alone. This restroom probably wasn’t used for the public. It wasn’t large, although there was a foyer area with a mirror and sofa in it. Probably for reclining, or maybe the female agents slept here if they were pulling an all-night shift. She didn’t know, nor did she care enough to ask. It looked comfortable. Clean. The inner room contained the stall, along with a sink and a window. Frosted glass covered it, but it wouldn’t have mattered. It had been raining all day. The window didn’t illuminate much during the day. It was bringing in less light now. She must not be considered a flight risk. There wasn’t one bar across the window area.
She shook her head. Flight risk? Oh man. She didn’t need her imagination at the moment. She needed pragmatism and common sense. She didn’t need to flee. So she was being babysat. Questioned and re-questioned. She had an escort waiting outside in the hall for her. So what? She wasn’t charged with anything. She hadn’t done anything. It would all clear up. This was just a normal visit to a normal restroom...in a far-from-normal life situation.
Nothing more interesting than that.
She was just drying off her hands when the glass beside the window bowed inward with a cracking sound. Marla spun as the plate fell, shattering on impact with the floor and littering pieces all about her feet. There wasn’t as much sound accompanying that as there should be. But the air immediately felt charged. Alive. Alert. Marla jumped backward, slapping her elbow into the towel dispenser. That hurt. She rubbed at it absently as a muscled leg stepped over the sill. And then she got a perfect view of ripped abs, nice arms and chest, and—
Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow!
No wonder her sketches had been all over the map! Her memory was at fault. This guy wasn’t just handsome. He was absolutely gorgeous. Really young. And extremely fit. He had a physique just made for sighing over. Or running her hands across. Wow, again. He was difficult to absorb. Marla hung onto the sink edge. Her knees wobbled. Her breaths got shorter. Quicker. Holy shit. She was going to swoon. Maybe, if she’d eaten the last meal they’d brought she wouldn’t be feeling so faint. But...wow. Gorgeous men just did not appear in a ladies room. Not in her experience, anyway. Especially, men dressed in little more than red plaid and leather. And to top it off, he’d been in the rain. His hair was slicked back. Everything looked wet. His skin glistened. His kilt thing clung to what looked like rock-hard thighs, too. And more.
Oh. Wow.
“You. You...uh. You—”
Oh. Crap. She couldn’t even get a cohesive sentence out.
He grinned. Her heart fluttered. Her breath caught. Oh...baby! He had a grin that could start fires. And make the burn feel good.
“Come along.”
He held out his hand. Marla looked back over both her shoulders before pointing at herself. His grin got wider. And then he winked.
“Aye. You. Now.”
“Um...”
“We’ve nae time!”
Oh. He had a voice that raised shivers. It was accompanied by the cutest accent. Marla’s ankles decided to join the fray as they turned to the consistency of jam. Good thing she still held onto the sink. She’d have collapsed.
“Lass?”
He stepped fully into the room, filling the enclosure with raw, barely-clad male. She’d been right on his size. He was enormous. He bent toward her. He needed to. His head grazed the ceiling. Warm breath hit along her cheeks. Her bottom lip. Where her bodice gapped just slightly above her brassiere. Oh my. Marla was five foot three. One hundred and ten pounds on her good days. Normal height. A little on the thin side, maybe. But. This guy. He was. This guy was just...
Wow. Double wow.
“Do you ken?”
“Uh...”
He exuded fresh rain smell. Or maybe it was wet wool. His muscles kept bunching and moving as if for her eyes to follow. Everything about him felt supercharged with something exciting and virile and as necessary as breathing. She’d never felt anything like this. It was almost frightening...in a heart-pounding, illicit kind of way.
“Take my hand!”
“I... Uh...”
“Do na’ make me beg, lass.”
Her eyes went so wide, it hurt. And then someone started banging on the outer door. He looked over her head in that direction. Marla couldn’t move her eyes. He had cords sticking out of his shoulders and neck. They stood out as he craned his head to listen. He had muscles even there? Wow. Again. She needed to find another word for her reaction to him. She’d never felt so...strange. Wound up. Excited. The word wow was starting to pale.
She couldn’t do as he asked, though. Taking his hand was so completely out-of-character, it wasn’t thinkable. Virgos were also earth signs.
Stable.
Secure.
Practical.
Wait a minute. Wasn’t that what Chad had taunted her with? She was an old woman in a young woman’s body? She never took chances? She didn’t know how to live? She didn’t know the meaning of the word impulsive?
The pounding sounds intensified from behind her. The handle jiggled. Her escort probably had a master key. That would explain the scraping sounds she heard next. The Highlander moved, looming directly over her, surrounding her with the oddest sensation...something so fantastic, so unbelievable, so incredible! It was a blend of raw earth, combined with wet wool and fresh rain, added to intense throbbing waves of heat. The feeling surrounded her. He still had his hand out in the speck of space between them, too. Palm upward.
“Please, my anam-charaid?”
In true Virgo fashion, Marla debated things. Mentally. It took a moment while the sound of a key turning the lock’s tumbler grated through her mind. What was the worst thing that could happen? Well, Marla? She’d be wanted for further questioning?
Oh.
What the hell.
Chad was an asshole and she only got to live once. Marla gave the Highlander her hand.
What felt and looked like an instantaneous bolt of lightning flared through the enclosure, spearing both of them in an arc of solid warmth, pulse-pounding electricity, and retina-searing light. Light bulbs exploded. Water jetted from the sink faucet. It rocked her back and then forward while the Highlander sent the deepest groan through the space. Every hair on her head reacted, even the ones firmly ensconced in her braided bun. She could swear she felt them sizzling. The door opened
somewhere behind her, sending air into the now-dark room. Marla got pulled right to the Highlander, got a huge dose of what it felt like to be tucked to him with an arm.
And then he leapt right out the window aperture with her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
If viewing him felt exciting-strange, clinging to his side for the jump into space had to be one of the most amazing sensations of her life. Marla kept a scream from sounding but didn’t know how. It was stuck in her throat or something. That was a trick of fate. She was plummeting to her death and couldn’t even make a sound? And then it occurred to her. They weren’t falling? She’d been on the second floor, maybe the third. And yet somehow, in a complete defiance of physics, this guy went up.
Marla watched the rooftop of the police station get smaller and smaller before dark and clouds obscured it. She should ask where he was taking her. No. She should ask how he was taking her anywhere. That was the first question she wanted answered. No. She needed to cancel her Virgo instincts here. She’d just done the unimaginable. She’d been unbelievably impulsive. There was no turning back. Whatever happened. And wherever it took her.
Then again. Marla...
There had to be some reason why it felt like they were flying. Honestly. It was beyond comprehension – and she worked with all kinds of improbable scenarios in her chosen field. She accepted things on faith on a daily basis; believed the inconceivable when everyone else demurred; always looked for alternatives.
But this?
This was beyond her.
No. Marla. Stop. You need to find your center. Calm down. Work this through. Stop scaring yourself.
Actually...it wasn’t a frightening experience, although the sensations running through her body were the same she felt with fear. Shivers rippled through her in waves. Her breath came in quick gasps alternating with breathlessness. Her heart was pounding through her chest cavity, Heavy. Hard. Fast.
Wait a moment.
Was that his heartbeat? Matching hers? Exactly?
Oh. Wow. This was a huge rush of adrenaline-fueled intensity. She’d never felt so alive. Alert. Thrilled. She kept blinking, both to counteract the onslaught of rain and the drying effects of wind speed. She wasn’t missing a second of this.
They were really flying!
He seemed to have a propulsion system of some kind. It worked at his unspoken command. Maybe he had an accomplice. That could be it. He might be attached to a soundless helicopter that was winging them far from the Wiltshire Police Station. She glanced upward, checking the night sky. Nope. Nothing there. Maybe there was another reason. He could be attached to a glider. But that wasn’t likely. Gliders didn’t go up. Maybe he had a rocket belt on him somewhere. No. That wasn’t possible. She had proof. Her arms wrapped about his belly. She didn’t feel anything but bare skin. And more skin.
Wow. He was warm. Everywhere she touched felt warm. Firm. Incredibly thrilling...
Oh. Shit.
She was losing her mind. She couldn’t even keep a train of thought? She was acting like she’d never held onto a man before. And that didn’t seem at all farfetched. This guy was cancelling out every experience and imprinting new ones. There had to be some reason she felt this hyped-up. Excited. Stimulated. Perhaps her trouble was his star sign. He could be the sexiest astrological sign – Scorpio. He might even be a Sagittarius. Or even born on the eve of the cusp: midnight of November 21st. That would explain not only the sex appeal he oozed without a hint of effort, but her reaction to it. Scorpios were known for sending off sexual vibes. While those born with Sagittarius influence were supposedly the best lovers...if you could keep them interested. She’d never met a male with that particular combination. But if she had, she’d have run the other direction.
At least...the sane Marla Sanders would.
There might have been something to her horoscope last night after all. This was her destiny? Being with this man? Right now? It was possible. He had been there. He’d just shown up, out of nowhere. Yeah, Marla...but don’t forget. He’d disappeared right afterward. He hadn’t even thanked her for taking that gruesome weapon from his back. Wait a second here. Why wasn’t he injured? He’d had that wooden Roman gladius thing stabbed all the way into him. He should be in a hospital somewhere. He had to have suffered blood loss. Trauma. Something.
Why didn’t he seem remotely weak?
It was such a conundrum. Marla shook her head. He reacted, pulling her even more securely against that mass of chest, abdomen, hips, and...oh. Wow. There was that word again. She couldn’t help it. Her brain wasn’t cooperating, her senses were in racetrack mode, and her hormones were doing the driving. She had one of this thighs clamped between both of hers. And her skirt wasn’t doing enough to fend off how that felt. She didn’t imagine the warmth flooding through her. Good heavens. Her breasts even joined the assault. She could swear they tingled where she was smashed against his side. He was just so swoon-worthy. In spades.
No.
He was beyond that.
She didn’t even know a description for him, or the sensations her body was experiencing because of him. All she knew was they were fantastic. Unbelievable. Real. And really scary, in a thrilling, exciting kind of way.
“Ah. My anam-charaid.”
His voice touched an ear while the sound rumbled through his chest. She felt it through where her ear pressed. He called her that strange title again, using the most ear-pleasing tone. He had a rich, deep voice. She didn’t know what the words meant. And with his brogue, she didn’t really care, either.
They started sinking. It wasn’t a rapid descent like she’d been expecting. No rocketing down toward a bone-crunching hit. Nope. He still moved with speed that defied reason, but it was at a downward angle. She couldn’t tell for certain. Rain and dark hampered her vision. They weren’t as high as a commercial jet, but they had to be high. Her ears popped occasionally. This just wasn’t possible. The rain was still falling, fairly heavily. She probably would be soaked if he hadn’t been wrapped about her and moving at hyper-speed. And she should have been chilled. She really shouldn’t feel warm. And tremendously turned on. To an almost frightening level.
Man. Oh, man. This was like a fantasy for one.
“Ah. There ’tis. Watford Station.”
Okay. Make that a fantasy for two.
“Watford...Station?” she repeated.
“I’ve na’ been here afore, but I’m fair certain...aye. ’Tis Watford, all right. There’s the car. At last!”
His brogue made the words almost unintelligible. Or maybe it was the speed he moved. Or the breathless tone to his words. He sounded almost like he might be experiencing the same sexual overload. Oh brother, Marla. Get a grip here. That was ridiculous. Impossible. Utterly fantastic. Then again, those words described the entire episode ever since he’d crashed through the window of the ladies room. If this was a psychotic episode, she should have embraced them a lot sooner. She had access to all kinds of mind and mood altering substances. Maybe she’d been just a little prudish in denying herself.
He spun without warning, Marla instinctively grabbed tighter about him. And then he smacked against an obstruction with his shoulder. A moment later, the obstruction turned into a set of doors that opened inward, showing a dark, fire-lit interior and two fellows in fancy white suits, and...another wow. That was funny. Their faces were devoid of anything except welcoming smiles.
“MacCorrick? Cullen MacCorrick?”
One of them asked it and tipped his head as they passed by. Cullen stopped in the middle of the space, dwarfing just about everything. The view altered to include large, over-stuffed leather couches along the back wall, warmth and light that emanated from a beautifully preserved antique stove thing in the corner, massive amounts of paneling, strips of dark brocade material, and world-class paintings just about everywhere else.
“Aye.”
The man holding her answered. She didn’t hear it as much as feel the vibration along where her ear was still pressed.
His name is Cullen. Oh. Marla. He had a killer name, too. It sounded as sexy as the man. That figured. Why would she even question it, though? If she had to have a fantasy experience based in lust and desire and passion, she didn’t want it marred by something as stupid as a non-romantic name.
Like Chad.
Marla giggled. The man she now knew as Cullen tipped his head to look down at her, using his free hand to sweep the hair off his forehead. Marla’s heart swooped the moment their eyes touched. Holy cow. The experience was devastating in a thrill-inducing way. Spell-binding. Enthralling. The arm wrapped about her tightened enough it lifted her feet off the floor. No. Wait. She hadn’t reached the floor yet. So what, Marla? She hadn’t been experiencing reality for some time. That was no great loss, as far as she was concerned.
“You barely made last call.”
One of the attendants spoke, interrupting whatever spell Cullen was casting. He blinked, lifted his head and shook it before turning around, taking Marla with him. It took her a few seconds longer to react. She hadn’t had much time to look him over, and never with this much light. And...
Holy shit.
He had the most kissable lips she’d ever seen.
“I’ve caught moving trains afore.”
She barely caught the motion to move a hand from where it was clasped about his side in order to reach up and caress his mouth as he asked it. She’d thought the brogue behind every word was captivating. She’d been wrong. Watching him say it was even more mesmerizing.
A train whistle answered him, followed by the tell-tale clunk-sound as car after car was pulled along behind engines. It took an act of will to move her vision from Cullen. She watched as both attendants shut the doors, one on either side, and then a bolt shot across them, adding an instant quiet to the space. Their car lurched as it started up. Cullen adjusted to it automatically. His leg flexed where it was sandwiched between hers. And then, without one bit of instruction or approval from her, her thighs tightened on his. Oh. My. The flood of desire that shot through her was an absolute surprise. It may have been the same to him, if the instant jerk he gave was an indicator. And then everything about him went hard. Everywhere. Including all kinds of stirring that happened right above her front thigh as his purse thing thumped against her leg.