The Highlander Next Door

by Janet Chapman

  The stupid idiot had hidden them in her freaking birthday book!

  Birch pulled the phone away from her ear long enough to close the attic door behind her and Shep, then quietly raced up the stairs, turned to sit on the top step, and rested the book on her lap. “I found them, Niall,” she whispered. “Rabideu hid them in the liner of a huge book my dad gave me for my seventh birthday. The idiot must have chosen this particular book because he knew it would never be donated,” she explained as she opened the cover and slowly peeled back the liner to expose more of the DVD. “Oh no. It-it’s red.”

  “What’s red? The disc?”

  “Yes. But The Bastard said they were privately burned DVDs with a small L etched next to the center hole of each one, and that one disc was blue and the other one yellow. But this one is red. It’s not one of them.”

  “It is, lass,” Niall said gently. “Leopold was making sure ye didn’t try to give him fakes. If you showed up with blue and yellow discs, he’d know you hadn’t found them.”

  “The sneaky rat bastard.”

  That got her a soft chuckle.

  “So . . . um, do I call him now?”

  “Are both discs in the book?”

  “Yeah, they’re both here,” she said, giving up and just ripping the liner all the way off. “Dieu, Rabideu must have panicked when I took this book back to Ottawa with me on one of my trips home.”

  “Unless he was glad to have them out of the house,” Niall said. “If he knew it was a birthday gift from your father, he wouldn’t have worried about you losing it. Ye said it’s heavy; is it a large children’s picture dictionary or book of nursery rhymes?”

  Birch turned the page and ran her finger over Claude’s inscription. “No,” she said on a sigh. “It’s a six-pound encyclopedia on guns.”

  • • •

  At a complete loss as to why a man would give his seven-year-old daughter a book on guns, Niall checked his watch because he didn’t want to lower the phone, and saw they were down to slightly less than five hours. “I know you’re anxious to have your mother back,” he said, “but I need more time to get everyone in position. Can ye handle waiting another half hour to call Leopold?”

  “What . . . what if he’s already killed her?” an unsteady voice whispered in his ear.

  “He hasn’t, lass. Hazel’s only good to him alive. Take this time to ready yourself,” he went on, wanting to redirect her focus. “Hide the transmitter on you where it can’t be seen, get comfortable handling the gun, and practice your story about the ring. But on the chance they are listening, keep making sounds as if you’re still searching and keep talking to Shep.”

  “Don’t hang up,” she cried in a whisper, making Niall’s gut tighten at the fear in her voice. “I . . . I’m supposed to call you in a half hour, right, before I call him?”

  “Aye. But you can call me before then, too. Ye don’t have to run up to the attic or even talk, if all you’re needing is a reminder that you’re not alone.” Niall walked to the end of the porch away from Sam and lowered his voice. “We’re in this together, sweetheart, and we’ll come out of it together—along with Hazel. There’s more than just me, Birch; there’s a small army of highly capable men eager to get their hands on every last Leopold who dared invade our home.”

  “And . . . and Daddy?”

  “Claude’s coming for you, too, just like he did twenty-five years ago.”

  Hearing what he suspected was a sob, Niall didn’t want to let the conversation end on a low note. “Don’t cry, lass.”

  There was a heartbeat of silence. “I never cry,” she snapped thickly.

  “Sorry, I forgot,” he drawled, then added, “Get to work, woman,” just to piss her off—the first half of a very unladylike curse in good old English being the last thing he heard before his pint-sized spitfire ended the call.

  “She’s doing remarkably well,” Sam said, moving up beside him. He shook his head. “I can’t believe she actually found the DVDs, especially this quickly. Damn, I’d like to know what’s on them.” He gave Niall a speculative look. “It would only take a couple of minutes for her to shove them in a computer and make copies.”

  “I don’t care if they contain goddamn launch codes for nuclear missiles.”

  “Naw,” Sam said with a chuckle, shaking his head again. “I’m thinking more along the line of access codes to overseas bank accounts holding millions of swindled dollars. Or maybe to the accounts of people Edward Leopold intends to swindle.”

  Niall grinned tightly. “Let’s see if we can’t get you the originals.”

  “What the hell?” Sam muttered, looking up the lane.

  Niall broadened his grin at the sight of Nicholas atop his huge gray warhorse prancing toward them, Micah and Dante and Rowan—dressed as tourists—following on deceptively gentler-looking mounts. “Just bringing some ancient perspective to a modern problem,” Niall told Sam as they walked down the steps. “Horses are still the fastest and easiest way of maneuvering through the woods.”

  “Duncan should be airborne shortly,” Nicholas said, stopping his horse in front of them. He glanced around then bent over to hand Sam his cell phone. “He said he’d make it appear as though the helicopter is doing some work at Inglenook. But he’s afraid spotting a silver SUV in all the vehicles coming and going might be—”

  “Hey, Mister Trail Boss,” Rowan suddenly drawled loudly, causing Nicholas to turn in his saddle and for Niall to look around. “We’re paying to ride, not sit here on lazy old nags while you swap recipes with the local lawman,” Nicholas’s second-in-command continued, just as Niall spotted a man and woman strolling hand-in-hand up the boardwalk that ran along the shoreline behind the stores. The couple stopped and sat on a bench in front of the docks not fifty feet from them.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Spade,” Nicholas drawled back. “I was just making sure Chief MacKeage doesn’t have a problem with us taking the horses on the park trails.”

  “Not as long as ye clean up after them,” Niall said, glancing over to see how Sam was coming along programming the tracking app into Nicholas’s phone.

  “Just don’t think any of us are cleaning up horse shit,” Micah interjected. “At the price we’re paying, you can hire someone to follow us around with a broom and shovel.”

  “You’re all set,” Sam said softly, moving so the horse blocked his line of sight to the couple and handing Nicholas his phone.

  “The trail’s that way, gentlemen,” Nicholas said to his men, nodding toward the lane behind them.

  “Birch found the discs and is calling Leopold in twenty minutes,” Niall told him as Nicholas slowly turned his horse away. “Since he’ll want privacy, my guess is the exchange will take place somewhere north of the Nova Mare entrance. If that’s the case, the old railroad bed will give you a straight run up as far as the abandoned sawmill.”

  Nicholas turned in his saddle. “Is there a chance he’ll simply go to the shelter to get them?”

  “Alec is fishing out front and Cole is in the woods across the road just in case,” Niall said. “But I doubt Leopold will risk coming that close to town again.”

  Nicholas gave a nod, then urged his horse into a trot to catch up with his men.

  “Well, I guess it’s time I wander over to the Bottoms Up for a beer and introduce myself to Mr. St. Germaine,” Sam said. “A description of the man would help.”

  Niall walked up the steps just as he heard the deep, rhythmic thump of a helicopter in the distance. “He’s a taller, older, male version of Birch.”

  Aye, he hadn’t been boasting when he’d told Birch a small army of capable men were backing her up; every one of them mere mortals—with the possible exception of Nicholas—exercising their free will to get personally involved.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Birch slowed almost to a crawl as she approached the spot whe
re they’d been ambushed, and checked her rearview mirror to see Shep standing in the road at the end of the driveway, staring after her. The poor dog wasn’t happy at being left behind, and had even growled and blocked the door when she’d tried to leave the house. So she’d had to hold the phone up to his ear and have Niall tell him in Gaelic he couldn’t go.

  Not that she expected Shep to listen to either one of them.

  Birch flinched when the rear hatch opened, but quickly composed herself when the SUV rocked slightly as Niall slipped into the cargo area, her sigh of relief lost in the sound of the hatch mechanically closing.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he said thickly. “I’ve been thinking,” he went on before she could respond, “how I wouldn’t mind ye wearing that tracking device permanently.”

  Her second sigh at hearing his wonderful, in-person voice came out as a snort. “Do you think Mom’s at the abandoned sawmill?” Birch asked as she resumed a respectable speed for the camp road. “Or that they’re keeping her someplace else?”

  “It makes sense she’s at the mill,” that steady voice replied. “Ye better not talk once we reach town, since there’s no one in the truck for you to be talking to. But if ye do need to say something, hold a hand up near your mouth.”

  “Shep’s not going to stay,” she said, since she wasn’t at the main road yet, although she did rub her nose to cover her mouth.

  “Aye,” Niall replied on a sigh. But then she heard a soft chuckle. “I sometimes wonder if the sneaky bugger hasn’t planted a tracking device on me.”

  “Where did you get this one?”

  “From a friend who likes playing with electronics. I don’t suppose ye happened to see your eagle buddy hanging around the yard when you came out to the truck?”

  If Niall’s intention was to keep her calm with small talk, he was succeeding, and Birch relaxed her death grip on the steering wheel. “Nope, no eagle. And none of the trees in the yard talked to me, either. Okay, I’m just reaching the main road, so I’ll shut up. But . . . but you can keep talking.”

  “I was thinking,” Niall said as she halted at the stop sign and tried not to look suspicious as she eyed the two men crossing in front of her, “that maybe you and I and Hazel and Claude could have dinner at Aeolus’s Whisper tomorrow evening. We could let your father pick up the check,” he added dryly.

  “Mmmm,” she hummed, turning right onto the main road.

  “Drive faster than the speed limit as soon as ye get out of the town proper,” he instructed, his voice serious again. “So you’ll appear frantic.”

  She was frantic. And scared. And angry at The Bastard for stealing her mom, at Francine for stealing Mimi, and at that stupid idiot Rabideu for causing this whole mess.

  “Keep an eye on your mirror and tell me if any vehicles are following.”

  Birch checked the mirror, then pressed down on the accelerator to bring the truck up to a frantic speed. “Nothing,” she answered after the car coming toward her had passed by.

  “You’re doing fine, lass. Ye slid a bullet into the chamber of the gun?”

  “Yup,” she said calmly instead of pointing out he’d asked her that twice over the phone before she’d left the house.

  “And ye memorized how to click off the safety without having to look?”

  “Umm-hmm,” she hummed on a positive note when she met a Nova Mare limo. But then she silently scolded herself, realizing it must be killing Niall to see her involved in this stupid mess, what with his being a protective Scots and everything. Dieu, it was killing her to have him involved, knowing he’d be the main target if bullets started flying.

  “We just passed the turnoff to Inglenook,” he said, apparently able to see the sign from the floor of the cargo area. “The marina’s another three miles, the entrance to Nova Mare a bit farther, and the mill about four miles after that,” he explained—again for the third time, obviously worried she was unfamiliar with the area north of town. “Is there anyone behind us?”

  Birch rubbed her nose as if it were itchy again, even though there was nothing but freaking trees to see her talking. “One vehicle,” she said through her hand. “But it’s too far back to tell if it’s a car or truck or even what color.”

  “Go ahead and speed up even more. If it doesn’t turn off at the marina or Nova Mare, let me know. When we get to the sawmill road, there’s a sharp curve about a quarter mile in, and I want ye to slow down and get close to the trees so I can slide out.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “If your gut tells ye something’s not right when you meet Leopold, try to buy us time by distracting him with the ring. Your father and Sam headed out as soon as Leopold told ye to meet him at the old abandoned sawmill, and they’re posing as two beer-drinking buddies out fishing the stream just north of the mill.”

  Birch didn’t like that her father was involved in this mess, either, feeling strongly that his having been shot once was already one time too many. She scratched her nose again. “We just passed the Nova Mare entrance and the vehicle didn’t turn in. It’s close enough now that I can see it’s a black pickup with at least two men inside. What about your officers; are they following us at a distance?” she asked, realizing Niall had been so busy telling her what to do before she’d left the house that he hadn’t told her any of his plan.

  “We’ll have to come up with another way for me to get out if the pickup turns down the mill road behind us. Jake and Cole are hanging back in town,” he continued, “watching if any tourists suddenly head north. Duncan’s in the resort helicopter pretending to be working at Inglenook, and Nicholas and three of his security guards are racing up the old railroad bed to the mill on horseback.”

  Birch stopped in mid-scratch. Some of the men were galloping to the rescue? “But Nicholas isn’t a Scots,” she blurted without thinking.

  There was a moment of silence. “No, he’s not. But he somehow manages to stay in the saddle despite the shortcoming.”

  Birch decided to get back to her plan. “What am I supposed to do if they search me and find the gun?”

  There was an even longer hesitation. “Ye give it up without a fight. That could also be a good time to distract Leopold by showing him the ring. Ye can explain away the gun as something you had in the house, but the game’s up if they catch you wearing a tracking device. Where did ye hide the transmit—”

  “Shit!” Birch cried, slamming on the brakes when a four-door pickup shot out of a dirt road on her left and stopped in the main road right in front of her. “They—”

  “Don’t talk,” Niall snapped at the same time the phone Leopold had given her started ringing.

  She snatched it off the console. “You idiot,” she said before hitting the answer button as she glared at the ugly grinning bastard holding his phone in front of his mouth instead of up to his ear.

  “Put your phone on speaker,” he said calmly, “then pull down the tote road on your right and keep driving until I tell you to stop.”

  “Just as soon as you prove my mother’s okay,” Birch shot back—ignoring the soft growl coming from the cargo area.

  “Every time you speak without being asked a direct question, Miss Callahan, Hazel will be the one getting slapped. Understand?”

  Birch held up her phone for him to see and hit the speaker button, set it on the console, then nodded at him through the windshield.

  He gestured toward the tote road. “Drive.”

  Birch briefly glanced in her rearview mirror to see the pickup that had been following her was stopped several yards back, and she took her foot off the brake and turned onto the overgrown tote road. Dammit, Niall wasn’t supposed to still be in the truck when she met The Bastard. If they checked her SUV, he’d be a sitting duck!

  “Keep going,” Leopold said when she tapped her brake because the road was narrowing. She looked in her side mirror to see the pickup he
was a passenger in right on her bumper, and caught a glimpse of the second pickup turning in behind them. But instead of following, the second truck stopped at the beginning of the tote road, the daytime running lights went off, and two men got out wearing fishing vests and holding rod cases. Lookouts, she decided, so their little meeting wouldn’t be disturbed by real fishermen. She drove for what seemed like a mile on the overgrown tote road, which rose and fell with the terrain as it skirted a steep ridge to her left.

  “Did you say something?” The Bastard asked.

  Merde, had she? Was she supposed to answer him? “I . . . um, I might have mumbled a curse.”

  He chuckled. “That does seem to be a habit of yours.”

  Francine had put listening devices in the house!

  “Stop in the center of the clearing,” he instructed when the road suddenly opened into what appeared to be an old logging yard.

  Birch heard another man’s voice in the background, only he spoke too low for her to make out what he was saying except for maybe the word helicopter. “I’ve changed my mind,” The Bastard said. “Drive to the stand of tall pines on your right at the edge of the clearing and stop under the branches.”

  Birch shouted a litany of thankful ohmigods in her head. Being close to the trees, she could create some sort of distraction if they started to check the interior of her truck, and Niall could slip out of the back and into the woods.

  “Shut off the engine and open your door,” The Bastard said as the pickup he was in made a wide circle and stopped several yards away, facing her. “Then get out while holding up your hands. And please make sure, Miss Callahan, that one of those hands is holding my DVDs. Excuse me, did you say something?”

  “I . . . I might have wondered out loud if you watch a lot of cop shows,” she said, figuring she better say something. She shut off the engine, grabbed the DVDs—which she’d put in a Harry Potter movie case—off the passenger seat, and opened her door. She stuck her hand holding the case out of the truck, unfastened her seat belt, then stuck out her other hand and slid her feet to the ground.