Kilty Secrets

by Amy Vansant

  That kiss.

  The kiss had made her insides woogy.

  That was definitely better than this bull—

  Her eye caught something in the distance.

  Hold on. What’s that?

  Catriona noticed a glow at the end of the tunnel and turned off her flashlight to keep from announcing her presence as she worked her way toward the edge.

  The vent dumped into a hallway much like the first they’d encountered. Flat black paint covered the surfaces and razor wire coiled down the walls like ivy.

  Grateful to be out of the tube and release the pressure crawling put on her aching ribs, she stood and stretched. An impossibly dim bulb hung from the ceiling, allowing her just enough light to keep her flesh from being sliced to pieces as she moved.

  Holding her gun ahead of her, Catriona crept forward, a step at a time, searching for Mason and the door out. She wasn’t sure which she wanted to find more. Odds were good Mason had left the building already. That wouldn’t be a terrible thing. If she could get to Konrad’s trailer and call the police, they might be able to cut him off on his way out of the desert.

  That would mean mission accomplished and she didn’t have to do all the scary parts. The cops could find Mason and wrap him up later.

  Catriona had taken less than ten steps when she heard a faint scraping noise behind her. The synapses in her brain burst like fireworks and she pictured Soto talking to her earlier in the evening.

  I heard this scraping noise...

  Catriona jumped straight into the air with both feet.

  Glancing down, she caught a glimpse of a scalpel sweeping beneath her. Mason had slid himself through a hole in the wall at ground level, his upper torso visible, much as she’d pictured Pinky when Soto told his tale.

  The scalpel in Mason’s hand arced up, trying to slice her, even as she rose into the air. The whites of his eyes flashed as he strained to reach her. Before he could readjust, she landed hard on his wrist with her bare heel. Her other foot found the cement floor, providing her much-needed balance.

  She heard the scalpel clatter to the ground.

  Mason yelped in pain. She kicked him hard in the face and pointed her gun at him.

  “Don’t move.”

  Mason’s opposite hand whipped out of the hole and she nearly fired before seeing him grab for his already bleeding nose.

  “Bitch!”

  Catriona dipped down and pushed the scalpel far from his reach with her fingertips. He shifted, attempting to wriggle back into his hole.

  “Oh hell no.”

  Catriona dipped down to clock Mason on the side of his head with her gun. The blow stunned him long enough for her to grab him by the armpits and jerk him into the hall. She roared as pain exploded around her injured ribs.

  Once Mason was out, she stepped away from him to point her pistol from a safe distance.

  He scrambled to his feet and whirled to face her. Sneering, he wiped his bleeding nose on his arm.

  “What now?” he asked.

  She held him at gunpoint, her heart racing, a muscle in her back aching from pulling his weight through the hole with such a sudden and awkward yank.

  “Your father was at the PGA Open when the fourth victim was kidnapped, killed and dumped.”

  Mason grinned and leaned back as he put his hands on his hips. “You got it. No one else did. I’m impressed.”

  “You used your father as a patsy. Was he ever involved?”

  Mason laughed. “My father? He was a mouse.”

  “And you’re a monster. Congratulations. Let’s go.”

  Mason shook his head. “Where? I won’t lead you out of here.”

  Catriona glanced behind her. The dark hallway continued. She realized her work was far from over. She’d have to lead Mason at gunpoint through the maze—hopefully, before another booby trap blew or the little creep scurried into another hidey-hole—

  A cracking sound snapped behind Mason and he ducked, arms covering his head.

  Catriona stepped back.

  What now?

  A black dress shoe thrust through the ceiling. It appeared and disappeared several times in rapid succession as large chunks of the plywood ceiling tore away and rained to the ground behind Mason.

  Catriona smiled.

  I know that shoe.

  Broch dropped from the ceiling to the ground. No sooner did he hit the floor than he straightened and struck Mason full-fist in the face. Mason fell back, his head landing at Catriona’s feet.

  She tapped his head with her bare toe. He didn’t move.

  “He’s out.”

  Broch grinned. “That wis mah plan.”

  “Couldn’t fit through the vent so you went over the top?”

  “Exactly. We shuid hae tried that sooner. Easy traivelin oan the framework up thare.”

  He scooped up Mason and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

  “Let’s git oot o’ ’ere.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Two of them.

  Luther hadn’t seen that coming. He knew about Rune. That skinny freak was hard to miss. But this other dude—he was short, thick and fast. He’d been able to get to the second floor window in time to watch the two of them head down the street, the small one running, something in his hands, some kind of bow.

  Is it a crossbow? It had been some time since Luther was last chased by a man with a crossbow.

  Behind the squat man came Rune, striding like Ichabod Crane late for a date.

  Luther patted his hip. Luckily, he’d still had his work keys in his pocket, which included the keys to the spillover warehouse. He’d locked the door behind him but if they were determined, it wouldn’t take them long to get through it. It would take them a while to find their way to the second floor, though. The warehouse was enormous, cluttered, and the door to the stairs that led to the second level was tucked behind a large papier-mâché dragon. Well, it was now. It had been the largest, lightest thing he could get his hands on and he’d been able to pull it across the entrance as he closed the door behind him.

  There was a second staircase in the back, but they wouldn’t see that unless they circled the building and spotted it from outside.

  Luther glanced down at his empty hands.

  How could I not grab my gun?

  It had all happened so fast. No sooner did he spot Rune than the little one was coming after him, running down his hallway like a bull. He must have slipped in through the bedroom window.

  He’d had two choices. Run, or stop and fight the little bull, hoping his hands would be clear by the time Rune made it into the house.

  Back at the house, the little man’s trajectory had led him directly between Luther’s position in the kitchen and where Rune would be entering through the unlocked front door. One last glance at the look on the little one’s face and Luther had known the kid wouldn’t go down easy. If Rune had a weapon he’d be a sitting duck.

  So he ran. Burst through the back door and started running, cursing at himself for not anticipating the attack. He’d been late heading for Sean’s and his mind had been on that. He hated being late.

  Luther leaned against the warehouse wall, panting. Across the room, he spotted a large wooden bar once used in a western shoot. The bar would make a good shield, and its central location made it an ideal spot to keep an eye on both entrances. It was also near the window. If he had to, he could jump out. If he dangled there, he was pretty sure there was a small overhang above the door downstairs. It might just break his fall. He’d have to remember to grab that ledge and hang. Jump too far out and he’d miss the overhang and impale himself on the fence. That wouldn’t be the best way to go.

  The only light came from an old security system mounted near the ceiling. It illuminated the eyes of the fiberglass creatures positioned around the room. Every sort of prop was stored in the building, but it seemed all the strange, big-eyed ones had ended up on the second floor.

  Luther heard a thump and t
hen another.

  They’re knocking through the door downstairs.

  Another thump and then a crash that told him the door had been breached.

  I need a weapon.

  Luther began moving through the room looking for something he could use. He found a cache of swords behind a suit of armor. Not real, but stiff enough to do some damage.

  Not bad.

  It wasn’t like he was going to find any guns. A half-assed sword would have to do.

  Luther picked the heaviest one and swung it back and forth. It had been a while since he’d partaken in any swordplay as well. He and Sean used to practice with swords from the sets, but not for years. They’d gotten older and lazier. No real reason to keep up their sword skills in modern America. Neither one of them wanted to go back to medieval times, and both had joked they’d only move forward through time. The chances that Star-Wars-like lightsabres became the norm in the future was highly unlikely.

  “Like riding a bike,” he mumbled to himself.

  Time wore on as the noises downstairs betrayed his pursuers’ growing impatience. They couldn’t find him and hadn’t noticed the door to the second floor yet.

  A movement caught his eye and Luther turned as the door leading to the outside began to open.

  How? He’d checked and that door had been locked.

  They’d just breached the downstairs door. He hadn’t heard them try the second floor outside entrance.

  Then, he heard a rough voice call his name from downstairs.

  That has to be the little one. This must be Rune.

  Luther crept forward to hide behind the door as it opened.

  A nose appeared, followed by a forehead and a patch of white hair.

  Luther had been about to come around the edge with his sword to stick his visitor in the gut when something struck him.

  White hair?

  Rune didn’t have white hair.

  Luther reached around the door and grabbed the visitor by the chest to jerk him into the room.

  He felt the tip of a gun poke into the soft spot beneath his chin where his jaw bone split.

  Chapter Twenty -One

  Broch and Catriona leaned against her truck as the EMTs carried a body bag from the warehouse. All Catriona wanted to do was go home, but they needed to wait for the police to finish questioning them.

  Konrad wandered over to them.

  “The publicity—”

  Catriona shook her head. “Don’t get excited about the press. A woman and one of your fake troopers died, Konrad.”

  “Mebbe a ninja,” muttered Broch.

  “Hopefully not.” Catriona had already resolved to tell the troopers she stabbed the ninja so they wouldn’t look too deeply into Broch’s identity. They’d made him a fake I.D. but it wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny. But if she was going to confess to stabbing someone, she didn’t want to be held responsible for his death, too.

  Konrad wrinkled his nose. “You’re right. Sorry.”

  “I’m sure you’re still going to be fired.”

  “You think? This was really Mason’s fault. Not mine.”

  “I dunno. Bad decisions were made. Really bad decisions.”

  “What if the movie does well?”

  Catriona sighed. “There’s a chance the studio won’t remember how stupid your stunt was if ticket sales triple.”

  Konrad grinned. “That’s what I’m thinking. I mean, it’s not my fault the kid was crazy.”

  “The families of the deceased might not see it that way.”

  “Shit. That reminds me. I have to call my lawyer.”

  “And your insurance,” called Catriona as Konrad headed toward his trailer without another word.

  “Whit an eejit,” muttered Broch.

  “Welcome to Hollywood.”

  “Ah wish ahd come back tae Scootlund instead o’ this devilish place.”

  “But then you wouldn’t have met me.”

  Broch put an arm around Catriona and her body filled with warmth, as if someone had poured a soothing elixir over her aches and pains. She snuggled against him.

  This is nice.

  “True. Ah tak’ it back.”

  “You’re like some kind of natural aspirin,” she mumbled.

  “Eh?”

  “Nothing.”

  Catriona spotted a police officer approaching and she stepped forward to shake his hand, slipping out from under Broch’s arm as she moved. Instantly, her body ached again.

  So weird.

  After an interview that seemed longer than their time in the maze, they were cleared to leave.

  Catriona tried Sean for a third time as they walked to the Jeep but got no answer. “Let’s get back to Sean’s. I can’t reach him.”

  “He’s mebbe asleep.”

  “Probably.” Catriona yawned. “Lucky guy.”

  They drove the twenty minutes back to Sean’s house in exhausted silence. Once back, Catriona went immediately to Sean’s bedroom and rapped lightly on the door.

  “Sean?”

  She poked her head in.

  The bed was empty. She opened the door more fully and stepped in to check the en-suite bathroom. He wasn’t there.

  “Sean?” she called down the hallway.

  “Nae in his kip?” asked Broch.

  “No.”

  She heard the patio slider open as she checked the spare room and living room. By the time she’d reentered the kitchen, Broch had returned from outside.

  “He’s nae outside.”

  “Oh, duh, his car.”

  Catriona jogged to the door that led to the garage and flipped on the light.

  The Jag was gone.

  “He left. Do you see a note anywhere?”

  Broch’s head swiveled and he leaned forward to snatch a piece of paper from the kitchen counter.

  “Here.”

  Catriona glanced at it.

  Went to see Luther.

  She sighed. “Good. I guess Luther couldn’t make it because of car trouble or something, so the mountain went to Muhammad.”

  “Eh?”

  “It’s an old saying.”

  Broch rolled his eyes. “Ah ken whit ye think yur sayin’. But it goes, ‘If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain.’ That makes Sean Muhammad, not the mountain.”

  Catriona stared at him. “How do you know that?”

  “It’s Francis Bacon.”

  “If you say so. But how do you know that?”

  Broch frowned. “Ah had schooling. Ah remember things, too, ye know.” He tapped his skull. “It’s nae just a rotten potato up ’ere.”

  “Can you see things that happened before in your head like me? Relive them in detail?”

  Broch shrugged. “Nah. Ah dinnae ken sae. But ah remember written things better than most.”

  “Hm. I did not know that.” Catriona leaned against the counter and felt her knees beginning to weaken. Part of her wanted to grab Broch and kiss him for being so damn sexy and smart, but a much larger part of her screamed for sleep.

  “We should go to bed.”

  “Aye. Ye’ve black under yer eyes.”

  “I do?” Catriona dragged a finger beneath each eye to find mascara on them. “Was I like that the whole time?”

  “Much of it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Catriona moved to the bathroom and washed her face. She grabbed one of Sean’s t-shirts from his room to use as a sleeping shirt and pointed Kilty to her childhood bed.

  Another good reason not to jump him right now. This is just weird.

  “We can sleep here. Luckily, I had a queen mattress as a kid so it won’t be too bad.”

  “A queen?”

  “The size of the mattress.”

  “Och, richt. Ah ken that.”

  He slid into bed and she slipped in beside him. Broch pulled her against him to spoon, his flesh warm in the chill of the sheets. Again, she felt a heat ooze through her body and her
aches seemed to evaporate.

  “You feel good,” she murmured, barely able to keep her eyes open.

  “Sae dae ye,” he whispered. “Wifie.”

  She swallowed. She’d almost forgotten about the accidental marriage.

  What am I going to do?

  Overwhelmed with worry, she closed her eyes and pushed it all away until tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Sean,” Luther hissed, as the tip of Sean’s gun settled against his chin.

  Sean unclenched his jaw and lowered his weapon.

  “That’s a good way to get shot, Luth.”

  Luther huffed. “You were the one in trouble, sneakin’ up on me—”

  “I’m not sneaking up on you, I’m looking for you, jackass. There are two men downstairs.”

  “Two sounds right.”

  “Who are they? I saw one through the downstairs door who looked like Rune.”

  “Yep. It’s Rune and somebody I don’t know. Little guy, built like a bowling ball.”

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “Seemed like a place I could lose them. I’m not the greatest runner these days. Couldn’t go on forever before they caught me.”

  Sean put his hands on his hips. “How long you been here?”

  “You mean how long until they find me? They’ve been running around down there for a while. They’ll come upon the door leading up here soon enough. I got it hid behind a papier-mâché monster.”

  “You were supposed to be at my house hours ago.”

  Luther grimaced. “Don’t hit me with the guilt trip. Like I don’t have enough going on here.”

  “Point is, you couldn’t have been hiding up here for four hours.”

  “I was already late, okay? I admit it. And then this.”

  “You should call when you’re going to be late.”

  Luther held up his hands as if he were Atlas supporting the planet. “What are you, my girl? I would have called if I’d realized I was late but time got away from me.”

  “That doesn’t happen to you.”

  Luther looked down and rubbed a spot on the floor with the toe of his shoe. “Yeah, well. It did this time.”

  Sean decided to let it go. He could circle back after they got rid of Rune. “Fine. These the only two ways up?”