by Vonnie Davis
There was no use in arguing. Both soldiers were armed. Granted, she could disarm them with a few well-placed kicks and hits, but her capture was inevitable. No doubt knowing her training, the Minister had brought along the best men at his disposal. Her list of crimes was long enough without adding “resisting arrest” or “assaulting an officer” to them.
She snatched the bag. “I’ll be about five minutes, sir.” She gave a weak smile. “Obviously, it won’t take me long to fix my hair.” Inside the small piece of luggage were familiar underwear that gave her an ick factor that someone had rifled through her drawers to choose them. A white silk blouse and navy wool suit with matching Prada heels. The checked scarf she would have artfully draped around her neck, she wrapped around her head and secured with a twisted knot. Her hands shook so badly, it took her three tries. Buttoning the front of her blouse was like threading a needle while riding a bull in a rodeo, like one she’d been to once in the States. She had to stop several times to take deep, calming breaths.
If she thought of who she was walking away from, she’d crumble to the floor in tears. Doubting the Minister would give her time to write Ronan a note, she was leaving him another parting message. One she hoped he’d understand.
She carried her empty bag out of the bathroom and laid the sapphire necklace she’d treasured since her graduation over the pillow on Ronan’s freshly made bed. The thought had crossed her mind to put her engagement ring there, too, but it was the only thing from him she had and she wasn’t giving it up. Besides, he would look on that as an insult. Better to leave him something of hers.
On a pivot, she looked at Chasen Laroche. “I’m ready to go, sir.”
“Your cooperation will not go unnoticed.” He nodded, but never once offered her a smile.
There were no longer guards standing outside her door. She supposed they’d been ordered to stand down. The two soldiers walked in time with her as they escorted her to the elevator. Had all this been planned to coincide with Ronan’s tests? Were the tests even necessary or just a smokescreen?
Either way, they were being torn apart—and she would never recover from the loss of her beloved Scot. She stepped onto the elevator, her military stance straight and precise, and fought to contain her emotions.
Chapter 22
As soon as Ronan was wheeled off the lift, he noticed the absence of guards outside Anisa’s room. “Hurry!” He leaned over to open the door and the orderly pushed him into an empty room. Strong male cologne lingered in the air. It twitched his nose, the same as the Minister of Defense’s had yesterday. He’d been here. The French bastard had taken Ronan’s beloved. He tried to control his breathing, to keep from falling apart.
He stood from the wheelchair and went to the phone on the stand between the beds. Something sparkled and caught his eye. Anisa’s necklace. She’d left it for him as a sign. She’d kept his ring, thank God, but she’d left behind something of great personal value to her for him—as an unspoken token of her love. He scooped it up and held it to his heart as he called a number he knew by heart.
“Detective Matheson. Make it quick, I’m having a helluva morning.”
“So am I, ye backstabbing bastard, since the French Minister of Defense took me woman while I was conveniently out of the room having tests done. And dinna tell me ye ken nothing of it, fer the guards were gone from her door. That’s how I ken something was wrong.”
“I’m on me way over to explain.”
“Nay. Not while the anger’s running hot in me veins. One of us will have to kill the other. Ye ken what she means to me, ye bloody bastard.” Ronan slammed down the receiver. A plan. He needed a plan to get her back. Nay Scot would allow his intended to be stolen from him, especially one he loved as deeply, as completely as his beloved. He stalked away from the phone, did a quick pivot, and dialed another number.
“Matheson Lodge. How can I help ye.”
“Creigh. Anisa’s gone. Kendric called the French Minister of Defense and told him about the intel. Told him she was feckin’ here. Hell, Kendric even escorted him to our room yesterday after Kenzie had the bairn. Chasen, whatever his last name was, questioned her fer hours. This morning, while I was going through a batch of useless tests, the French arse came in here and stole her away. The French bastard had the audacity to steal me woman!”
“Whoa! Kendric went against me wishes? He betrayed someone under me protection? Yer beloved? Wait, how do ye ken she was taken against her will?”
“She had a necklace that belonged to her grandmother. She always wore it. Never took it off. She left the piece neatly on me pillow. It was her way of telling me she didna want to go. I ken her, Creigh, and how she thinks. I asked her to marry me last night. She’s still wearing me ring. She knew if she left it, I’d take it as a sign of rejection. But she didna. She left me something precious to her heart.”
“You think they’re taking her back to France?”
“Paris. Aye. I’m working on a plan. ’Twould be better if ye were here to judge on the soundness of it. I’m so fookin’ mad right now, I ken I’m nay thinking straight.”
There was the familiar squeak of Creighton’s chair. “I’m on me way. I canna believe Kendric betrayed us like this.”
“Bring me clothes. One of me kilts. I dinna think I can handle the waistband of jeans yet. I’m checking out. I canna look for her from here.”
“On me way. I’ll help any way I can, ye ken that.”
“Aye. I always have.” Ronan hung up and clasped the necklace around his neck. He would keep a part of her with him always just as she was keeping a part of him, the ring, with her. Although she may be carrying another part of him. How many times had they had sex with nay condom? Now came the difficult part—telling Brother Bear. He’d kept the shield closed during their talk, throughout the night while they made love over and over, and when he went through the strange-sounding testing machines.
He opened the shield and called for his alter ego.
“Brother Bear, I have some bad news.”
Wherever he was hiding, he came closer for his voice was louder. “What? Anisa?”
“Some men came and took her away. I dinna know where she’s at.” He planted his elbows on his thighs, his hands on his cheeks, and his fingers spread over his ears. “I think they took her back to Paris.”
As he suspected, Brother Bear, or Magnus as Anisa called him, went into a fit of crying and wailing. His words of grief made little sense except fer one thing. “Bring her back!”
“If it takes me the rest of me life, Brother Bear, I will. I promise. I will bring her home to Mathe Bay—to us.” His fingertips rose to touch the sign of eternal love she’d left him. He refused to question his abilities. He stood and started to pace. There was nay room in his heart for doubt—only the burning need to plan a strategy, determination never to give up, and a love that brought joy to his life.
With every step he made, he shoved the fear deeper and deeper. He couldna allow the worry to control him. The anger. aye. But not the panic.
Kendric had feckin’ balls. Ronan would give him that fer he marched into his hospital room, big as ye please. “Look, I had nay idea the Minister of Defense would steal her from this hospital and take her back to France. Yesterday, he made it sound as if he’d be interrogating her again today, here in this room.” Kendric ran a hand through his short dark hair. “Honest, I’m as shocked and pissed as ye. I spoke to both of me guards on the way over and the Minister told them I’d sent orders over fer them to stand down. That Anisa was under French protection now.”
Ronan jabbed a hard punch to Kendric’s stomach and when he bent over, Ronan fisted an upper cut to his cousin’s eye, causing his head to snap back. “Ye are a traitor to our sleuth. I dinna want to speak to ye ever again. And back the fook away before me fist makes contact with yer chin. Fer I could beat ye to a pulp and nay think anything of it. I’m engaged to that woman ye allowed them to steal from me.” He spun, stepped to the window’s ledge,
and leaned his fists on the sash. Fists he wanted to use to punch his backstabbing cousin’s face in. If not fer Kendric, his woman would still be here—safe with him in his dual existence, part of which was sobbing and mourning like a bear cub who had lost his mama. Exactly the way Ronan had for his da.
Thane rushed into the room. “What the bloody hell is going on? Is yer bear in pain? He sounds emotionally distraught. I could hear him as soon as I left the cafeteria in the basement.”
Ronan turned to lean against the window as he filled the doctor in. Kendric stood with his hands in his pockets and his chin meeting his chest. The tension in the room was so thick, it was hard to take a breath.
“Ye ken yer bear wants to die. If he does, ye will, too. I could have ye close yer shield, but I fear that willna help yer bear. ’Twill only cut him off from having human interaction to listen to. The isolation will only drive him deeper into his depression. I’m calling Uncle Earnan. See if he’s ever had experience with this, fer I have’na.” He jerked his cellphone from the pocket of his white coat.
Ronan swiveled around to stare out of the window again. Where was his beloved? On a plane? Dear God—in handcuffs? “God help ye, Kendric, if they torture her.”
The door burst open and Ronan pivoted in time to see Creighton wrap his huge hands around Kendric’s neck. “Gutless traitor! Ye bloody well violated the decision the members of the sleuth made?” Creighton shook him and roared. “Ye put me brother’s intended at risk, ye jumped-up little shite. Why, dammit? Where’s yer feckin’ loyalty?”
“Under the fookin’ black eye yer brother just gave me.” Kendric fought to pry his laird’s hands from his neck, his face growing redder by the second.
Bryce charged into the room. “What the bloody hell is going on? Me bear is upset, listening to Ronan’s bear crying as if his heart is broken.” He spun. Shock was evident in his expression. “Holy fook! Has everyone gone bloody mad? Creighton, why are ye trying to choke Kendric?”
“Ronan and I will handle this. Ye go back to yer beloved and yer new bairn.”
Bryce fisted his hands at his waist. “Why, because I’m the baby of the family?”
“Nay, ye spoiled shite, because ye have responsibilities.” Creighton shot Bryce a scowl. “If ye must ken. Kendric called the French Secret Service, who came and took Anisa away. We dinna ken where she’s at. This by-the-book policeman went against our sleuth, and I want to ken why.”
“Well, how the hell’s he going to answer after ye’ve choked him to death?” Bryce strutted toward Ronan and put his arm around his shoulders. “Less than a year ago, I was in yer spot. Scared, pissed, and at me wit’s end. We stood together, as brothers, and got Kenzie back. We’ll do the same fer ye and yer woman. I’ll go talk to me wife and explain. Then I’ll return to help with the planning.”
Ronan nodded. “I wasna verra nice to ye that day. I was bloody worried over ye and showed it by acting like an arse.”
Bryce grunted. “Hell, brother, think I didna ken that? Yer grumpiness gave me the mettle to forge ahead. In the end, ye helped. I’ll be back soon. Kenzie and Linsey are to be released later today. Colleen canna wait to have them home.” He hurried out of the room.
Thane placed his hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Earnan’s on his way to see what he can do to help yer bear.” The young doctor spun toward Creighton. “I’ve got a horse enema in me doctor’s bag. Don’t think I canna hold ye down and shove it up yer arse. Now let go of Kendric, and we’ll all sit down and talk about this until Uncle Earnan gets here.”
Creighton released his chokehold on Kendric, who rubbed his neck and practically collapsed on Anisa’s bed. An evil grin changed Creighton’s features. “Was he with Effie?”
“Aye. He said he’d bring her along. Maybe she could help.”
Creighton and Ronan looked at each other, enjoying the first moment of levity of the day. “Open yer bag of clothes, brother. I put a bottle of single malt whisky and some paper cups on top of yer things. I think we could all use a healthy three-fingers. Och, me bear aches fer yers, Ronan. Maybe he can talk some sense to him.”
Ronan lined the cups on the bedside table. “I doubt me bear will hear any of it. He’s in a full-blown tantrum. He thought of Anisa as his mother and best friend. He doesna ken what to do, but weep and wail—and grieve.” He poured the single malt in one cup and downed it. Then he added more in his, poured some in the rest of the cups, and passed them out.
Kendric showed surprise when Ronan extended a cup to him. “Thank ye,” he croaked, his throat no doubt sore from Creighton’s punishing hold.
“We’ll drink in silence,” Thane suggested. “We humans need to calm down.”
Ronan sipped his tipple and filled his cup again. “Calming down is not on me agenda, cousin. Me beloved’s been taken from me. I dinna ken what’s going to happen to her. I’d promised that sweet woman she’d always be safe with me.” He tipped his cup toward Kendric. “He’s made me break me oath.”
Thane grabbed the bottle before Ronan had a chance to reach fer it again. “Some of the medicines I’ve got ye on won’t mix with all this whisky. Ye’ve had enough tipple fer a few hours.”
Ronan didn’t think there was enough whisky in the world to numb the pain, so he started talking. “What will they do with her when they get her back to Paris, do ye ken? Throw her in jail? Interrogate her fer days? Hold a court-martial? What?”
Thane jiggled the iPad from the large pocket of his medical jacket. “Let me see if there’s anything on the news about her return to France.” He swiped the screen a few times. “Here’s something. ‘Chasen Laroche, the Minister of Defense, captured ex-Major Anisa Brosseau in a small Scottish community.’ ”
“They’ve taken her rank from her already.” Ronan stood and paced. “After all she went through to earn her title. Is there more?” He glanced at Thane.
“ ‘Although originally charged with treason, two American CIA agents have been arrested for this offense and jailed, pending further investigation and trial. Ms. Brosseau is expected to arrive in Paris this afternoon, where she will be jailed for theft and destruction of a drone and being Absent Without Leave. More details to follow.’ ”
Creighton clapped his hand on Ronan’s good shoulder. “At least we ken she’s alive and the worst of the charges have been dropped. Now we need to figure out how to get her back.”
The door opened and Earnan strode in, holding Effie’s hand. She wore a pair of pink sweatpants—inside out—and a Jimi Hendrix sweatshirt. Her baffies were on the wrong feet. From her wrist hung pink furry handcuffs, one end closed around her wrist and the other cuff dangling open.
“Geesh, Uncle Earnan, I never thought to ask if ye were in the middle of anything.” Thane looked at his watch. “And in the middle of the day, too.” His face was beet red.
Earnan brushed him off. “Hell, nephew, what do ye think retirement is fer? Me Angel and I can finish our playtime later. But this fellow here”—he moved to stand in front of Ronan—“is in a bad emotional place.” He glanced around the room. “Have any of yer bears been able to reach him?”
They all shook their heads.
“Ronan, lie down. I’m going to hypnotize ye so yer thoughts do not interfere with his. Then me bear will communicate with yers on a deeper, more experienced level.”
“He responds best to Magnus, the name Anisa called him.”
“Good to ken. Now I ask ye all be quiet. Angel, I ken ye want to tear Kendric a new arsehole, but ye must wait. I’ll need silence in this room.”
She clicked the empty, open handcuff on Kendric’s wrist. Then glared at him as she whispered, “If you feel any shrinkage, I’m only changing your pecker into a snail.” Her gaze swept to her beau and she smiled. “We’re ready, Stud Muffin. No one will utter a sound.”
Sweat beaded on Kendric’s forehead while Effie’s pink lips silently muttered words. His other hand reached for his crotch, the strangest expression altering his face.
Cha
pter 23
Anisa’s helicopter flight from the helipad at the hospital in Mathe Bay to Paris was a continual duration of interrogation about her stealing the drone and flying to Scotland. At times, she was asked the same things over and over, no doubt hoping she’d deviate from her original answers. She was informed she’d already been stripped of her rank in the French army and removed from her position in ICAT.
No surprise there. She knew her military career was over. All that remained was the fear of what lay ahead and the devastating loss of who she’d had to leave behind. The heart beats in two steps—lub-dub, lub-dub—but without her Ronan, hers beat with only one sound, a lonely, desolate sound.
The bird landed at a spot near the Préfecture de Police, a huge building at the opposite end of the huge courtyard in front of the Notre Dame Cathedral. Hordes of press waited.
As the rotors slowed down, the Minister of Defense told her he believed in her innocence as a mole within the agency and that both Mitch Anderson and Todd Franklin were under arrest and currently being held in solitary confinement in a French jail. When she asked what her charges would be, he shrugged and claimed it would depend on a trial.
The door of the copter opened and cameras clicked and whirled. Reporters, holding long-handled microphones near her face as she exited, yelled questions. Was she aware of what the CIA was up to? How did she find the confidential information? Did she use her looks to gain access to restricted files? Would she be court-martialed? Did she flee because she felt her life was in danger? She was bombarded with question after question. Many of them were downright asinine.
The soldiers who helped her out of the aircraft grabbed her elbows and led her inside away from the media frenzy. Thank God for some semblance of silence. Her nerves were ready to snap because she kept thinking about Ronan and Magnus.
To her surprise, the first place they took her was the dispensary. A French doctor examined her injuries, asking many questions. She told him about the CIA sending someone to poison her, and what toxin was used.