by Amy Vansant
“Just bring a pair of jeans, a couple shirts and your toothbrush.”
“And mah lotion.”
“They’ll have lotion.”
“Nae mah lotion.”
Catriona gave up as the doors slid open. “Whatever. Just hurry.”
He blocked her path and peered down at her, his right eyebrow arched.
“Are ye certain we’re nae married already?”
She huffed and pushed past him, looking down to hide her amusement.
Catriona stopped at her door to slip in her key. Before she could turn the knob, Broch passed her. As he brushed past, he patted her butt.
She jumped and turned to squint at him as he walked to his door in an overly nonchalant fashion.
“I felt that.”
Broch searched his sporran for his keys, refusing to look at her.
“Are ye talking tae me?”
“You should put your money where your mouth is.”
“Ah don’t ken whit that means,” he sing-songed before entering his apartment.
Chuckling, Catriona let herself into her home and headed for her closet. The outfit she’d chosen for the day seemed too casual to wear to Vegas, so she undressed and stood in her underwear staring at her closet.
She didn’t think she needed anything fancier than jeans and a top; hopefully they’d only be in Vegas for about an hour. She flipped through her few dresses thinking maybe it would be a good idea to bring one nicer thing, just in case. They needed to find Taylor, grab him and get back, but maybe they could sneak in a nice meal there somewhere—
“Whit’s that?”
Catriona whirled and covered her chest with crisscrossed arms like a vampire in her coffin.
“What the—”
Broch stood behind her shirtless and in his kilt, a pair of jeans in each hand.
Jeezus that chest of his. I just want to play it like a couple of bongos...
“You can’t just walk in here when I’m in my underwear.”
“Ye see me in mah underwear all the time.”
“That’s different.”
“Howfur?”
“I can’t avoid you in your underwear. Hell, I’m lucky if you’re that dressed, you exhibitionist.”
“Whit’s that?” he pointed at her leg.
She glanced down. “What’s what?”
“The scar oan the back of yer thigh.”
Catriona twisted her head to look down at her leg. A two inch scar she’d forgotten about stared back at her. “Accident.”
“Howfur?”
“I don’t remember.”
“While working?”
She shrugged. “Probably.”
Broch took a step forward, staring at the scar, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Yer lucky ah came.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yer job is tae dangerous fer a lassie aloyne.”
Catriona turned back to her closet. “I was doing just fine without you, thank you very much.”
She heard the jeans drop to the floor and felt Broch step behind her to trace her scar with his finger. His feather touch on her thigh gave her a rush that made her suck in her breath.
“I can see that,” he whispered in her ear.
She swallowed. “You know what you’re doing. Cut it out.”
“Are ye sayin’ ye don’t need me?”
“Yes. And we don’t have time for these games.”
His hand slid across her lower back and around her hip, his fingertips slipping under the hem of her panties.
“Are ye sure?” he whispered.
She took a ragged inhale and turned to face him, his hand sliding across her abdomen to her opposite hip.
Ohmygod that felt delicious. She considered just twirling in place with his hands on her.
She rested a hand on his left pec. “Maybe. It depends. Do you need me?”
He smiled. “Ye ken ah dae.”
Their lips met as they pressed against each other with urgency. He placed his hands on the cheeks of her rear and lifted her. Wrapping her legs around his waist and her arm around his neck, she threw her head back to gasp for air as he pressed his face into her breasts.
She wanted him so badly. She knew he wouldn’t follow through. He was teasing her, trying to coax her into agreeing to marriage, but once again, she found herself not caring.
Not with her body wrapped around his.
I’m going to feel like an idiot in about five minutes, but right now...
Broch walked her toward her bed and eased her back onto it, his massive arms lowering her without strain.
She sat up and slid her hands up his thighs beneath his kilt.
“Marry me,” he said.
Aaaand…there it is.
She thunked her forehead against his abs.
“Why did you have to say that?” She slid her hands back down to his knees.
“Just say aye.”
She looked up at him. “I told you I can’t do that. We haven’t known each other long enough.”
“Don’t ye want me?”
“I do—”
She took a deep breath.
You have no idea.
“—but I can’t marry you. Not now. Marriage is permanent. At least it’s supposed to be.”
He stared down at her, looking hurt. He stroked her cheek with his hand.
“Ye ken ah love ye.”
“So make love to me.”
She wasn’t sure what shocked her more, that she’d shared her thoughts so blatantly, or that she’d used the phrase make love. So corny, but somehow, it had felt like the right thing to say.
Broch straightened and stared out the window behind her. “Ah, mibbee.”
“Maybe?”
“Mibbee. Ah’m nae sure yet.”
“Could you make a decision in the next minute or so?”
He shook his head and stepped back, smoothing his kilt where it had begun to tent.
She took a deep breath and pointed to the door. “Then get out of here. Pack the jeans that were in your left hand, wear the ones that were in your right. Go wait by the elevator. I’ll be there in a second.”
He nodded and left the room, but not before he put a hand on either side of her face and gave her a loud, smacky kiss on the mouth.
Wiseass.
When he was gone, Catriona rolled over and pushed her face into her pillow to scream.
Chapter Nine
They reached Vegas by three p.m., with Broch gripping the arms of his seat during much of the hour-long flight. He let go long enough to down three shots of whiskey, spaced evenly throughout the flight.
A taxi took them to Las Vegas Boulevard, —already alive with lights and color. Their destination was easy to find, a large golden obelisk serving as the dot beneath the exclamation point of the Vegas strip.
Catriona motioned to the name of the building. “It’s called Gold, not the golden tower. Sean was kidding. That’s a relief.”
Broch felt like he was missing something with her statement, but before he could ask for an explanation, he found his attention captured by the world outside the taxi windows. He gaped as he unfolded himself from the taxi, his mouth hanging open.
“Ah don’t ken whaur tae look first.”
“It can be a bit overwhelming.” Catriona yanked her luggage from the trunk. The driver had popped it open from his seat but not bothered to help them retrieve it.
Broch knew he should help, but he couldn’t pull his focus from the buildings and people around him.
Sae many lights.
As Catriona struggled to get both bags to the curb, Broch finally returned to earth and grabbed one with each paw to cart them into the lobby. He might have stared at the Strip all day, but he didn’t want Cat to feel how heavy his bag was.
He’d packed his lotion, the shampoo and the conditioner.
Inside Gold, Catriona glanced at the front desk and then led him into an elevator. Broch watched her lift a finger to push the uppermost
button. Instead, she tapped the keyhole next to it and grunted.
“Shoot.”
She walked back out of the elevator and he followed, the door closing enough to catch his shoulder as he hurried out. It hurt.
“Och—whaur ye gaun?”
“Elevator doesn’t go to the penthouse...ah... Nope.” She made it half way through her thought before pirouetting and heading back into the closing elevator. Broch made an about-face and jumped inside, this time catching the opposite shoulder against the doors as they bounced off him and sprang open.
He rubbed his arm. “Whit noo? Yer chippin’ away at me until ah’m gone.”
“If we go to the desk and ask to talk to Alain, it’ll give him time to get away. Maybe take Tyler somewhere else. I’ve decided to do this the hard way.”
“Whit’s the hard way?”
“We go to the floor below the penthouse, go up the fire escape stairs and then you find some way to get through the door there, which is undoubtedly locked.”
Broch nodded. “By ye find a way, dae ye mean me?”
She smiled. “Aye.”
The elevator doors opened and Broch dragged the bags down a carpeted hallway until they found the stairs leading to the penthouse behind a door marked fire exit.
Catriona motioned to the luggage. “Leave the suitcases here for a sec.”
Broch stared down at the bags in his hand.
“Whit if someone takes them?”
“Then we’ll buy new clothes.”
Broch frowned. Setting down the cases, he unzipped his and pulled his kilt from inside to tie it around his waist.
She cocked her head. “Really?”
“Cannae risk it,” he mumbled as they mounted the stairs to the locked door Catriona had predicted would be there.
“Get that open,” she said, motioning to the door.
He looked at the door. “Howfur am ah supposed tae dae that?”
“It’s just how, not howfur. And I don’t know howfur.”
He squinted one eye. “How come dae ye think ah dae?”
“You’re big. Just break it down or something. Go beast-mode.”
Broch grimaced. Catriona had been cranky ever since their time in her bedroom. He suspected he knew why, but he also suspected she’d hit him if he voiced his theory.
Safer tae just open the door.
He traced the edge of the door frame with his finger. “It swings this way. Ah cannae pat mah shoulder tae it.” He knocked on it. “Soonds solid.”
Catriona shrugged without looking up from her phone.
Broch put his finger on her phone and pushed it down. “Hey thare, lassie.”
“Yes?”
“Ah ken yer takin’ me fae granted.”
“Really? You said I needed you for your mighty mighty muscles. So use them.”
Ah. She’s trying to teach me a lesson. Funny lass.
“Ah said ah’m nice tae hae around, ah didnae sae ah cuid solve every problem.”
Catriona leaned forward and put her face so close to his he could feel her breath. It smelled like the cranberry juice she’d had on the jet. “You said I needed those muscles. Without you I’m a poor defenseless little lassie.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms against his chest. “Ah didnae say that.”
Smirking, Catriona put her hands on his upper arms, pushing and pulling on him in an attempt to make him move. He allowed her to position him in front of the door, a few steps back, too far to reach the locked knob, his heels hovering at the top of the stairs.
“Stay there. Use his momentum.”
“Whit?”
Broch pondered Catriona’s cryptic instructions as she pounded on the door, screaming in a high-pitched voice unlike her own.
“You let me in right now Alain or I’m going to tell everyone about us. I swear Alain! I know you’re in there, you—”
Broch heard a bang as someone hit the door’s release bar on the opposite side. Catriona jumped back, grabbing the knob on their side and swinging the door open as she tucked herself behind it.
Broch’s eyes grew wide as a man stumbled towards him, jerked forward and off balance by Catriona’s yanking of the knob.
Use his momentum. Ah…
Broch stepped aside and pushed the man past him, flinging him down the stairs with little effort.
The man rolled to a stop at the base of the stairs and groaned, pressing one palm into the ground in an attempt to stand.
Broch looked at Catriona and she pointed to the man at the bottom of the stairs with her eyes.
“Whit? He cannae gae thro’ the door wance we gae thro’.”
“But he can go to the elevator. He probably has the key for the penthouse.”
“Sae why don’t ye gae tak’ care of him?”
She shrugged. “Because I have to hold the door open so we don’t get locked out again.”
Och.
“Ne’ermind. Ah’ll dae it. This time.”
He stomped down the stairs, grabbed a fist-full of hair on the back of the man’s head, and banged his skull into the floor.
The man collapsed to his belly, still.
Broch pounded back up the stairs.
“Ye cuidhae given me a wee mair instruction afair ye threw a man at me.”
Catriona smiled. “What? You did fine.”
“Fine.”
She walked into the hall and he followed after a final glance at the unconscious man at the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t appear to be going anywhere soon.
“I told you I could get the door open without you,” Catriona said as they walked down the hallway.
Broch scoffed. “Bit ‘twas me wha just teuk that man tae ground.”
“But I got the door open. Any lunkhead can hit someone.” She knocked on a door across the hall from the elevator.
Broch frowned and checked back down the hall. He had half a mind to go wake the man and see how she liked it then without his help.
The door opened, revealing a small-boned woman with short, dark hair. She arched an eyebrow at them.
“Look what the cat dragged in.”
Catriona offered a tight smile. “Hello, Dez.”
“Hello, Catriona.”
“Alain here?”
Dez leaned forward and peered down the hall. She looked back at Catriona, her brow knit.
Catriona’s smile grew. “He’s taking a nap in the stairwell.”
Dez huffed, but she took a step back to allow them entry.
Broch heard the boy blubbering the moment they entered the room. Tyler sat tied to a chair in the corner, farthest from the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Strip. His eyes were puffy and red.
Upon seeing them enter, Tyler straightened and gasped.
“Cat! You have to help me. They’re crazy. Look what they did to me.”
“It’s Ms. Phoenix to you after this stunt,” said Catriona as she and Broch moved to Tyler.
One leg of the boy’s shorts had been pushed up against his pelvis and tucked under. Blood trails ran down the sides of his thighs. The word bum had been carved into his leg with a very fine blade. Broch spotted the likely instrument sitting on a stone counter nearby.
He glanced at Catriona and she grimaced.
A man’s voice started behind them. “Cahtriona, dear. Sean said you were on your way. I left word at ze desk to let you up.”
“Sae we could hae taken the elevator,” muttered Broch.
Dez remained in the open doorway. She caught Alain’s eye. “You okay with them? I’m going to check on Philip.”
Alain waved her on and returned his attention to his visitors. “How can I help you?”
She held out a hand in Tyler’s direction. “You have something of ours.”
“Not at ze moment, he isn’t.”
Catriona reached into her pocket to retrieve a folded square of paper. “I brought a check. What does he owe you?”
Tyler sobbed, his chin dropping to his chest. “Thank you
. Ohmygod. Thank you. I’ll pay you back.”
Alain waved a hand at Tyler to shut up as he eyeballed Broch. “Who’s your friend, Catriona?”
“This is Brochan.”
Alain nodded slowly. Broch could almost see the gears in the wee man’s head grinding, and he didn’t like it. He did like Alain’s suit, though he feared that much cream would look strange on a frame as large as his own. The Frenchmen looked like a neat, wee cloud. He also smelled of bergamot, which reminded Broch of a cereal he liked. His stomach growled and he regretted not eating on the plane.
Alain pointed at him, swinging his finger to point from head to toe. “My wife would love him.”
“He’s not for sale and he doesn’t gamble.”
“Lately,” mumbled Broch. To be completely honest, he gambled quite a bit back in Scotland with his rich friend Gavin. It was the best way to make some quick money.
Catriona bypassed his confession and held up the check for Alain to see. “How much?” She headed into the kitchen and opened a drawer. “All I need is a pen. I think I remember how to use one...”
In response to Catriona’s query, Alain swatted the air, the same gesture he’d used to dismiss Dez. Broch couldn’t remember a moment the man wasn’t waving at someone. It was as if he were plagued by a cloud of invisible gadflies.
“Put your check away. You’ve given me an idea.”
Catriona ceased searching through the kitchen drawers. “I don’t like the sound of that. I’d rather just write you a check.”
“I won’t take your money.”
“Come on…”
Alain shook his head. “You are a resourceful girl. Do me a favor and I’ll release ze boy. After, you can require he pay you for your services or not. Zat is up to you.”
Staring at the floor, Catriona pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. What’s the favor?”
“Bring my wife back to me.”
Catriona looked up. “Mo? Where is she?”
Alain looked away and raised his chin to strike a dramatic pose. He fell short of holding the back of his wrist to his forehead.
“She has left me.”
“Why? What did you do?”
“Nothing!”
“Right. So you don’t know where she is?”
“I know where she ees. I need someone to convince her to come back to me.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“You’ll figure eet out eef you want ze boy back.”