Highlander's Love: A Scottish Historical Time Travel Romance (Called by a Highlander Book 4)

by Mariah Stone

  “So tell me everything, and start from the beginning,” he said, businesslike.

  “Okay.”

  Amber told him about Bryan. How he’d gotten into debt with Jackson and become irritable and angry.

  “I thought it was his pride,” she said. “That he hated owing anyone anything. But now I think he hated being in business with him. He hated being involved in a crime like that. Bryan was hotheaded, but he was a good man. I think he simply felt guilty that he was helping Jackson smuggle drugs into America.”

  “Can you remember any information? Anything he said that might help us find proof?”

  “He mentioned Aman Safar, the owner of a teahouse in Kabul. But he didn’t like to talk about anything he did with Jackson. He got so angry and agitated when I asked questions. Anyway, it got worse and worse, and one day he said something about making a deal with the devil.”

  Jonathan nodded thoughtfully. “Jackson.”

  “Yeah. I realize that now. Back then, I had no idea what he meant, and he wouldn’t say. Soon after, we split up, but I saw him getting more and more irritable.” She looked down at her hands. “Now I think he was trying to figure out how to get out of the business with Jackson. I should’ve been more understanding. But back then, I thought he just wanted to get back together.”

  “Stop the guilt, Amber. If you’d known and tried to do something, who knows what Jackson would’ve done to you. Or if you’d even be alive now.”

  “Still. Maybe Bryan would be alive now.”

  “All right. Tell me what happened the night of the murder.”

  She told him, her hands shaking as she revisited the evening, every little detail. How she’d pushed him in front of everyone. How she’d discovered him later in a pool of blood. How he’d told her about Jackson and asked her to stop him. And how Jackson had found her there.

  “And then what?”

  “I pointed the gun at him, tied him up, and ran away. There were a lot of witnesses that saw me being aggressive towards Bryan. It looked like I killed my ex-boyfriend. Best case, I’d be charged for manslaughter. Worst case, Jackson could pin a murder rap on me and make sure I got the death penalty. Knowing him, I just didn’t think there was any way for me to fight it. I felt so helpless. He’s a freaking major, Jonathan.”

  “Yes. I know. It was stupid, Amber. By running, you signed your own guilty plea.”

  She sighed. “I’m here now. And I want to fight. First, I need to find Aman Safar. He might come forward and talk. If not, maybe we can find other evidence through him. Maybe even record Jackson in action.”

  Jonathan propped his elbows against his knees and leaned forward.

  “No,” he said. “Not you. I’ll go.”

  “Jonathan, no. It’s my mess.”

  “It is. But every time you go through airports and security, you’re pushing your luck.”

  She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he waved his hand and continued.

  “I’ll call my connections. I know someone in the military police. They might give me an idea of what they have on you and what the charges are.”

  No. That was too dangerous. She didn’t want to involve her brother that much. “Jonathan—”

  He didn’t let her continue. “Also, once we have any evidence, I think it might be wise for you to come forward. They’ll arrest you, of course, but I’ll bail you out, and if we get something on Jackson, we might be able to strike a deal. Kyle knows a stellar military defense lawyer.”

  Amber shook her head. This was too much. She thought Jonathan might give her advice or call someone for her. This was so much more. This was risking his own freedom.

  “They might come after you for helping me…”

  He looked at her with sadness in his eyes. “How many times did you take the blame for me and our brothers? It’s time for me to pay you back.”

  Chapter 34

  West Virginia, one month later…

  * * *

  Jackson’s house looked just like him: large and imposing.

  So this is where the drug money goes.

  Her stomach in knots, her palms sweaty, she fought a battle inside her head. Despite her earlier bravado and her decision to come back and clear her name, her confidence and her bravery were gone. She wasn’t sure this was the right decision. In fact, she’d started to think this was the biggest mistake she’d ever make. This pathetic attempt of hers might just ruin her life forever.

  And she might never see Owen again.

  She got out of the car. Her heart thumping, she shifted her shirt. The wire attached to her skin was scratching her.

  “Jonathan, please don’t let me down,” she whispered.

  Of course, she had no way of knowing if her brother could hear her. She had to assume he could. They’d checked the connection, after all.

  Deep breath in, long breath out. She marched towards the house. Jackson was currently on a leave, which was a stroke of luck. Though she would’ve found a way to get to Afghanistan if he hadn’t been, but that would’ve made this so much harder.

  She had no doubt that news of Bryan’s murder and her involvement had rushed through the base like a swarm of hungry rats. There had probably been newspaper articles and even TV coverage. A crazed woman killing her boyfriend on a military base was a newsworthy event.

  Well, to hell with them. To hell with everyone. To hell with Jackson. That’s what Owen would have told her. To hell with them all.

  Her anger gave her strength. Yes, good. She needed that.

  All she needed was to talk to Jackson. She knew he was divorced and lived alone. After some surveillance, she and Jonathan also knew he didn’t usually go anywhere or have any visitors during lunchtime.

  She stood before Jackson’s door and could hear his voice booming through it. Bastard. He was always loud, his presence always palpable. Amber applied her knuckles against the door vigorously.

  He opened the door after a few moments, his phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder. The foyer behind him was large, with a big staircase leading upstairs. He filled the whole room, and Amber felt as if she were back in the torture room. There were no instruments of torture in the modern, clearly expensive house. But the man was more dangerous to her than all of them combined.

  “Just get your ass down here and show me your game,” he said in his thundering voice. Then he erupted into laughter so loud Jonathan’s eardrums must have popped from where he sat listening through the wire.

  “I’ll call you back,” Jackson barked into the phone and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.

  He looked like a predator sighting the weakest animal in the herd, and an icy trickle of sweat snaked down her spine.

  “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said slowly and stood to the side.

  “Major,” she said as way of greeting and walked inside.

  He shut the door with finality.

  “Aren’t you hiding?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to save you from the capital punishment that you deserve.”

  He raised his eyebrows, clearly amused, and came closer to her. Then he took his cell phone out.

  “You have thirty seconds to tell me why you’re here, and then I’m calling the military police.”

  “I have evidence against you, Ronald,” she said. “Evidence of your drug smuggling, proof of your motive for killing Bryan. I’ve come to give you the courtesy of turning yourself in and getting a better deal. If you don’t, I’ll give them the evidence.”

  His amused expression fell for a moment, but it returned quickly. He looked her up and down, but not in a pervy way. In an assessing way. Did he suspect she was wearing a wire?

  “I don’t know what drugs you’re talking about. And me killing Bryan—that’s just bullshit.”

  But he wasn’t calling the police. He wanted to know what she had on him.

  “Is it?” she said and walked farther into the foyer. That might be a mistake. He cou
ld try to cut off her exit. “Then why aren’t you dialing?”

  “What evidence do you have, Amber?” he said, pronouncing the word “evidence” as though it were in quotation marks.

  “You ship the drugs on sky trains. And you have a man on the inside who oversees the deliveries and doesn’t let the dogs around. I know all about Aman Safar, and I know all that because Bryan was helping you. He wanted out, and he threatened to tell on you. That’s why you killed him.”

  He shook his head, his eyes turning dark and threatening.

  “Princess, wake up. I want to know what the fuck you’re smoking to get these ideas.”

  He wasn’t budging. She had to up her game, which meant taking bigger risks.

  “Okay,” she said and took a few steps towards the exit. “I gave you a chance.”

  He moved so fast she didn’t see him. He slammed his palm against the door, his mouth turning into a snarl.

  “No. You haven’t given me anything. What exactly do you have on me?”

  Amber was rooted to the spot. Not exactly a confession, but she was getting closer. Sweat misted her skin. She looked straight at him. Man, she had much less courage than she was trying to show.

  “Aman is ready to come forward and give a statement against you.”

  His expression went blank. “What?”

  “He made a deal with the US government. His family is going to be moved to the US while he serves time in prison. He’s terrified of you.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  She cocked her eyebrow. “Do you want to try and find out?”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart. You can’t prove shit.”

  “Then remove your hand and let me go.”

  His palm gathered in a fist on the door, his knuckles white.

  Instinctively, her body tensed. He was going to snap. But he might snap physically at her and not confess, and she needed him to say the words. Those words would set her free.

  This wasn’t working. She needed to up her game even more.

  “Everyone in your drug organization is terrified of you,” she pressed. “Bryan was ready to rat you out. Now Aman. You’re done, Ronald. Because you can’t shut Aman up. You can’t kill him like you did Bryan. The only chance you have is to come forward.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How did you get here?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You’re in hiding. No one knows where you are. You were last seen in Scotland. How did you cross international borders? Fake passport?”

  “Yeah. Fake passport. Why?”

  “Did anyone help you get this information?”

  Wires connected in her brain. He wanted to know if anyone knew she was here. In case he wanted to make her disappear.

  “No,” she said, hoping it would ease his suspicion. “No one knows.”

  Something changed in his eyes. In one slick motion she almost missed, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the door, choking her. Her throat clenched, pain tearing it apart. She desperately gasped for air, but only gagging sounds came out. In an onslaught of panic, she clawed at his hand around her throat, but it was useless.

  “You should have stayed away, princess. You should have hidden like a bug under a rock.”

  Her lungs were burning. Her vision was going black. Jonathan was probably going crazy listening to her choking. No one except him knew she was here. Everything was a bluff, orchestrated to get and record a confession out of Jackson.

  And she was losing. She was about to die. For nothing.

  “Ah,” he said, pressing his fingers tighter around her neck. “Look at you. You have the same look of helplessness Bryan did just before I pulled the trigger.”

  Her mind was going blank. She was oxygen-deprived, and judging by the pain, he might have crushed her airway completely.

  She’d gone too far. She was dying.

  She’d never see Owen again. Her fiancé. The happiness of her life.

  And then, as though on a distant whisper of wind, she heard his voice.

  “Be yer own hero, lass. Ye’re verra much mine.”

  She had to live. She had to choose to live. She almost had Jackson.

  For Owen.

  Gaining strength from the earth, something she’d learned from kung fu, she reached deep inside herself, because in every cell of her body was love for Owen.

  She kicked Jackson right between his legs.

  He released her and doubled over, stepping back.

  She coughed, desperately sucking in the air. She held on to the door, her legs barely keeping her up. Breathing was painful, but she needed to get oxygen back into her system. Her work wasn’t yet done.

  He was still clutching his groin but was already standing straighter. He lurched to a console by the wall, opened a drawer, and took out a gun.

  Amber didn’t have time to waste. Her body was recovering, and she took a step to give herself room, rotated, and kicked him in the face. He fell back, and she took his gun and pointed at him.

  He threw his arms up in surrender.

  “You’re done now, Jackson,” she choked out. “Jonathan, did you get all that?”

  Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her jeans. She answered it with one hand.

  “Hey, sis. You all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she rasped. Her throat was killing her. “Did you get all that?”

  “Yes. The military police are on the way. Erickson says it’s enough for a confession. You’re free.”

  Amber exhaled, relief flooding her system like sunlight. She’d cleared her name. She was free. And this guy would be behind bars, getting what he deserved.

  When the military police arrived and arrested Jackson, Amber went out the house and breathed in clean air. She watched as they loaded him into a car, and she took lungfuls of air, letting the freedom seep into every cell.

  The police car drove away, and someone walked towards her—a female figure in a green cloak… Sìneag? A chill and a thrill ran through Amber. What did she want? Where had she even come from? It looked like she’d pretty much emerged from thin air.

  She beamed as she approached Amber, dimples forming in her rosy cheeks. Could anyone else see her? There was no one around. Her brother went with the police to hand over the evidence and the taped confession. The suburban street looked calm and ordinary. Seeing Sìneag here made Amber’s head spin.

  “I see ye did well, lass!” Sìneag said when she came to stand by Amber.

  “Um. Thanks.” Amber frowned. “Why are you here?”

  Sìneag looked around in wonder. “I love the United States of America. ’Tis so much more interesting than ol’ wee Scotland. There’s so much delicious food, things I havena even heard of in two thousand years.”

  Amber’s skin chilled. Two thousand years?

  “Speaking of…” Sìneag looked Amber over. “I have something important to say to ye. A warning.” Her eyes flashed mischievously. “But in the best Highland tradition, I’ll only give it to ye if ye bribe me first with something delicious and unusual.” She swallowed. “Well. Anything, really.”

  Amber’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “You want some food in exchange for information?”

  “Aye.”

  Amber shook her head with a smile. “The fact that you’re a faerie may not be the weirdest thing about you, Sìneag.” She walked to her car and opened the passenger seat. She found a bag of peanuts in the glove compartment and gave it to Sìneag. “There you go. Food. Now what did you want to tell me?”

  Sìneag’s eyes practically sparkled. She opened the bag and stared at the contents in wonder.

  “Those are nuts.” Amber said. “Salted peanuts.”

  Sìneag took a peanut out and studied it in her hand. Then she put it in her mouth and chewed slowly, crunching with her eyes closed.

  “’Tis delicious.” She looked at Amber, and there was sunshine in her eyes. “Thank ye.” She put another nut in her mouth and chewe
d.

  “So? What did you want to say?”

  “Oh. Aye. Now that ye won over yer enemy, what do ye plan to do?”

  “Go back to Owen, of course.”

  She smiled. “Good. But I must warn ye. ’Tis the last time that ye can cross the tunnel of time. A couple only gets three times.”

  Amber bit her lip and nodded. Three times… This would be her last time through. Goodbye to the twenty-first century, goodbye to her brothers, to her friends. She’d never eat peanuts, she’d never be able to go to a doctor, have her teeth cleaned, have a cup of coffee. If Owen and her had any children, they wouldn’t get vaccinated or go to school.

  “Does it change anything?” Sìneag said.

  Did it? She could still stay. Live her life here in the relative safety and stability of the modern world.

  And howl every day inside, missing Owen. This life, full of conveniences, of being warm and sated, would be empty without him. She’d never respect herself if she chose comfort and material possessions over love.

  “No,” Amber said, and she knew in her gut this was the right decision. “I belong with Owen. You were right. He’s the love of my life, and the man I’m destined to be with.”

  A smile bloomed on Sìneag’s face so wide it threatened to cut her face in half. She sighed happily and popped another peanut in her mouth.

  “Another couple found happiness thanks to me,” she said. “Yer world is so much more fun than the land of the faerie.” She cupped Amber’s jaw, and her touch was cool and sent a small vibration through Amber that reminded her of standing next to a giant speaker at a concert. “I’m a faerie, and love for me isna possible, so I live vicariously through ye and others. Now go to him. Be happy. And I’ll look for another couple to torment.”

  Amber opened her mouth to ask why Sìneag would never be able to find love, but the faerie disappeared.

  Amber sighed and shook her head. What a beautiful, wonderful, strange creature. Sìneag may be her favorite person in the world after Owen.

  Because she brought them together. And now Amber could finally go to him.

  Chapter 35