by Amy Vansant
He raised his arms and rubbed the soap in his armpit. “It’ll only tak’ a wee moment. Ah was playin’ with this last night afore ye came over and ah found this cake o’ sweet smelling soft stone—like what mah mothers used.”
“Soap. It’s soap. Hey—” She’d turned to leave but turned back again. “Did you say you were in the shower last night?”
“Aye.”
She huffed. “That explains why I had to take a cold shower. I thought something was wrong with the pipes. You used up all the hot water.”
“Ah dinnae ken it could run oot.” He groaned with what sounded like ecstasy. “The water is sae warm. Ah kin make it hotter, tae. ‘Til ah can barely stand it.”
“Amazing. You’re a time traveler and a wizard.”
He finished rinsing and opened the door.
Catriona spun her back to him. “Could you maybe have an ounce of humility?”
A voice whispered in her ear, breath hot on her neck. “I ah’m a wizard. Ah’ve come through time to enchant ye.”
She jumped and slapped her hand to her chest. He had to have scampered across the floor like a mouse to reach her so quickly.
She could see his fingers hovering and waggling on either side of her skull and she slapped one hand away. He circled her, and as soon as she caught a glimpse of his torso, she shut her eyes.
“Broch, for the love of—”
“Dinnae ye want to see mah wizard’s wand?”
She laughed, a sudden explosion that made her cover her face and turn away from him again. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage his shenanigans, but he’d caught her off-guard.
“Look, you Scottish freak—this is serious. Sean might be in trouble. Will you get dressed and stop acting like a two-year-old?”
“Open yer eyes.”
“No.”
“Open yer eyes.”
“No.”
He lightly tickled her sides and she spun, her hand balled into fists at her sides.
“I don’t know who you think—” She barked her shin against the bench at the foot of the bed and yelped, eyes springing open.
Broch stood before her in his jeans, his hands outspread like he’d just nailed the landing.
“Ah’m dressed. See? Ah’m magic. I tol’ ye.”
She rubbed her shin and hobbled out of the room. “You still need a shirt, idiot.”
“Ye people are crazy about yer shirts, aren’t ye?”
Catriona perched herself on the kitchen bar stool. “Once we find Sean, you can move to an island somewhere and run around naked all day.”
He appeared from the bedroom, pulling on a new tee. “Ah’m gonna hold ye tae that promise.” He winked.
The tee had a picture of a chicken on it. Above it was the phrase Guess What? with an arrow pointing to the chicken’s butt.
She covered her face with her hand.
“Why would you pick that shirt?”
“It haes a chicken on it. Guess whit ah had on mah farm?”
“Chicken?”
He grinned and pointed at her. “Aye.”
“But that shirt doesn’t say Guess what? Chicken. It says Guess What? Chicken butt.”
He peered down at the tee. “Whatfur?”
“It just rhymes. It’s something kids say. They ask someone Guess what? and then when the person says What? they say chicken butt! and burst out laughing.”
He laughed.
Catriona squinted at him. “You know, you’re really not half as charming as you think you are.”
He pursed his lips and looked up as if considering her comment. After posing a moment he shook his head. “Na. Ah am. Ah’m sure of it.”
He walked past her and out of the apartment.
Catriona scowled. He smells really good again.
They drove to Big Luther’s house and saw the ambulance and police lights from blocks away.
Catriona stomped on the gas until official vehicles blocked her path and she was forced to stop, tires squealing for mercy. She spilled out of the car and wove through the small crowd of people who had gathered to watch the excitement. Waiting a moment for a policeman to look the other way, she dipped beneath the crime tape and dodged another officer who tried to stop her from entering the scene.
She spotted Luther in the back of the ambulance parked in front of his home. He lifted his head to peer at her, his face bloodied and swollen.
“Luther! What happened? Are you okay? Have you seen Sean?”
He waved a massive paw at her. “It’s all right now, Kitty Cat, don’t get yourself in a lather. Sean was here. Three men, they took him away when they heard the sirens.”
An EMT held out his arm, blocking her from entering the ambulance.
“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The EMT tried to ease her away from the ambulance and she balked, trying to hold her ground. She was about to snap at the man for making an already stressful situation even more difficult, when she felt something move behind her.
A shadow fell across the bumper of the emergency vehicle. The EMT cut short and stared past her. His eyes widened.
She hooked a thumb toward the object of his fascination. “There’s a big guy standing behind me, isn’t there?”
The EMT nodded.
“The lassie needs a moment,” said Broch.
“But—”
“A moment.”
The EMT sighed. “Fine. Make it quick.”
“I’m sorry,” said Catriona, holding up a finger and hoping her eyes telegraphed her good intentions. He was only doing his job, but she had to gather more information. “Luther, who was it?”
Luther raised his head again and winced with the few parts of his face that weren’t stretched tight by swollen bruises. “Never saw them before. Big, older guy with a red beard, skinny younger guy and a pretty hefty guy with a—”
She cut him short. “Lump in his forehead.”
“Yeah. You know them?”
“We’ve met. You said they took Sean?”
“He gave them a run for their money from what I could hear, but yeah, they got him in the end. I was in no shape. They worked me over good before he showed up.”
“Okay. Take care, Luther. I’ll let the studio know.”
“Call my niece, Tanya. Do you have her number?”
“I do. Will do. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“Right.” Luther lay his head back down and raised his fingers without moving his arm to wave.
“Sorry,” she said again to the EMT.
Eyes never leaving Broch, the technician nodded and closed the doors of the ambulance.
Catriona’s stomach was roiling with nerves as she strode back to her Jeep.
“I don’t know enough about these men to know where they’d take him.”
Catriona’s phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket to see Sean’s name.
“Sean,” she answered, and Broch’s attention snapped to her. “Where?”
She ignored him. “Sean? I can’t hear you. Are you there?”
She covered her opposite ear with her hand and walked away from the crowd. On the other end of the line she heard heavy breathing.
“Who is this now?” said a rough voice.
“Who is this? And why do you have this phone?”
The man chuckled. “You’re the girl, aren’t you? I recognize that mouth of yours. The man has half a dozen numbers on his phone and you’re one of them. I guess you knew him after all.”
Thorn. She’d expected as much.
“What do you want?”
“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want. And if what you want is to see Sean alive again, you’re going to wait a few days and then I’m going to tell ya where you can find him.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
Thorn chuckled again. “You never told her who you are?” he said, his voice farther away, as if he’d turned his h
ead away from the phone. “Your own—let me see—daughter?”
“Thorn, talk to me,” said Catriona.
“You remember my name. How nice. A few days. I’ll call. And bring the Highlander with you or no deal.”
“Wait—”
The phone went dead.
“What is it?” asked Broch.
Before she could answer, her phone rang again. The caller ID announced the Los Angeles Police department.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Catriona?”
“Yes.”
“Miss, this is Officer Dolan from the L.A. Police Department. Do you know a Tommy Lee Hopkins?”
Catriona scowled, recognizing the name of the man both she and Sean used for various errands, usually those of the less legal sort.
“Why? Is he in trouble?”
“Boyfriend? Husband?”
“Friend. Can I ask what this is about?”
“Miss, we found your number on his phone. I’m going to need you to come in, or I can send an officer out to wherever you are to pick you up.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on first?”
She heard the officer sigh and could tell he was either weighing the pros and cons of sharing more information with her, or bracing himself to deliver bad news.
“Miss, I’m sorry to have to tell you but Mr. Hopkins is dead.”
Chapter Twenty
“Where are we now?” asked Broch. He gazed out the window of the car. A few days ago he didn’t even know what a car was. Now it seemed no one could live without one.
Broch glanced at Catriona. Her jaw was set and taut. Her hands gripped the wheel, though they were parked in front of a low, long building. She’d looked like a woman possessed ever since speaking to Thorn on the phone. Her family friend was beaten bloody, Sean had been stolen and before she could put her mind straight, she heard another friend had died. It frustrated him that he had no idea how to help her, other than to stay near and wait for her to ask for help.
“Are ye all right?”
Her head snapped to the right. “I’m fine. Why?”
“Och. Na reason. Except that it looks lik you’re aboot tae snap either that wheel or yer own fingers in two.”
She released the wheel and wrung her hands together. “The police said Tommy had been found dead in his car up on that ridge,” she said, turning and pointing towards a low outcropping of land topped by a fence and what looked like another parking lot. “He doesn’t live anywhere near here. I think he was watching this motel, and I think I know why.”
“Motel? Is that—”
“You’d know it as a lodge, I guess.”
“No, I ken the French word hotel. Ah tol ye ah ken some French. It’s the m that confused me.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Ah tol ye ah’m not as dumb as ah look.”
He peeked a sideward glance at her and saw her smile. Mission accomplished. He’d cheered her up even if it was only for a moment.
She pointed at the motel. “I never said you were dumb. People stay in these less fancy places during road trips.”
“Which they take in their bleedin’ cars.”
“Yes. In their bleedin’ cars. Motel is a combination of hotel and motor—motors are the things in the cars that make them move.”
“Ah. From the Latin motor which means mover.”
“Okay, now you’re just showing off.”
Catriona got out of the car and Broch followed suit.
“You think Thorn and his men were staying here? Sean had Tommy watching them?”
“Yes.” She headed toward a door marked Office.
“Do ye think they’re here? Shouldn’t we have weapons?”
“I have my gun.”
“Ah dinnae have a gun.”
“They’re not here. They’re not that stupid. And I could hear they were in a car on the phone. They’re headed somewhere they think is safe. I need to figure out where that is and the motel might have some information on them.”
“Och.” Broch grinned. “You’re not as stupid as you look either.”
She glared at him and entered the motel to the tune of a jingling bell. Inside, she approached a man standing behind a desk and pulled a wallet from her pocket.
“Hello sir, my name is Officer Cathy Jones and I work with L.A. homicide division.” She opened and shut the wallet quickly, flashing the contents to the man, who immediately grew paler. His eyes drifted to Broch and he looked him up and down. Broch drew himself to his full height and puffed out his chest.
Catriona glanced at his Chicken Butt t-shirt, and looked away, shaking her head.
“We’re undercover,” she added.
“Of course. How can I help you officers?”
“You had some men staying here we believe are connected with a murder. Does the name Thorn Campbell ring a bell?”
The man shook his head.
Broch held his hands out to mock a large belly. “Big guy. Looks something like me if ah ate three of me and the other me’s were laying in my stomach.”
The clerk stared at him.
“Big red beard,” added Catriona.
The man’s eyes grew wide. “Oh. I remember him, certainly.”
“When did he leave?”
“He paid last night, but I don’t know what time he left.”
“Did he pay by credit card?”
“Cash.”
“Has his room been cleaned?”
“Oh yes. We pride ourselves on our clean rooms.”
“Did you scan his driver license or—”
“Oh. He put his license plate down here.” The man bent down to retrieve a box of cards. Ruffling through them he found the one he wanted. “The man he had with him, a thin man, he wrote his name and license plate here.”
Catriona took the card and read. “Tennessee.” She handed the card to Broch. “We’re going to take this for a bit.”
“Okay. No problem. Do you want me to call you if I see him again?”
Catriona was already turning to leave. “What? Oh. Yes.”
Again she tried to go, but the man called after her. “Do you have a number?”
“Just call the station.”
The two of them left.
“Don’t ye want to check the room?” asked Broch as he jogged to keep up with her.
“No. I don’t want to know anything about the DNA left in that place.”
“DNA?”
She shook her head. “Some other time.”
“Ye called yerself Cathy Jones.”
“Jeeze, you and the questions. I lied. My name is Catriona.”
“Dae ye have a family name?”
Catriona glanced at him. “Yes. Phoenix. No relation.”
“Nae relation tae whit?”
“Oh. Sorry. If you live in Hollywood and your last name is Phoenix…let’s just say people tend to confuse me with another family.”
He said the name in his head a few times and found he liked the ring of it. “Catriona Phoenix. It’s a nice name.”
“Thank you.”
“Wherefer dae we go noo? Dae ye ken where Sean is?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. Wherefer we go now is home to pack, do a few Internet searches and then we’re going to fly to Tennessee.”
Broch stared back at the motel as she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. They were on the road for five minutes when something Catriona had said rang in his head like a broken bell.
“Hold now. Did ye say fly?”
Chapter Twenty-One
They entered the payroll office and Jeanie beamed. “Hello.”
“Hello darlin’,” said Broch. Catriona turned in time to see him wink at Jeanie.
Jeanie giggled.
Catriona rolled her eyes and opened the elevator. “Jeanie, see if you can track down Lulu. She’s probably in her trailer. Tell her I’m coming to see her in about twenty minutes and that it’s important.”
Jeanie’s eyebrows tilted li
ke opening saloon doors. “Lulu? Really? She scares me.”
“Don’t let her bully you. If she says she’s busy or complains in anyway, just tell her tattoo and that’ll shut her up.”
Jeanie saluted. “Will do.”
Catriona found Broch peering intently at a movie poster on the wall and grabbed his wrist to pull him onto the elevator.
“Are those real photos?” he asked.
“Yep. That dragon crashed into the Statue of Liberty about a year ago.”
“So dragons are real—Dae they live near here?”
“New Zealand mostly.”
He pressed his lower lip against his top and nodded, inadvertently doing what Catriona considered a passable Robert DeNiro impression.
“Huh,” he grunted.
They stepped off the elevator and Catriona strode down the hall to open the door to Broch’s apartment. “Get anything you need for the trip and meet me back at my place.”
“Where are we going again?”
“Tennessee.”
She heard him call, “Whit’s Tennessee?” as she entered her own apartment but decided they’d have plenty of time to talk about it during the trip.
Opening her laptop Catriona searched for Thorn Campbell’s name combined with Tennessee. His name popped up in the LaFollette Press in relation to a drug bust a few years earlier. The paper served the Campbell County area of the state.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. He could be living amongst his own decedents,” she mumbled aloud. She tried to narrow down where he might live but found no more information about him.
Three loud knocks on the door made her jump and she jogged to open it. Broch stood in front of her holding a plastic dry cleaning bag.
“Whit’s this?” he demanded to know.
She took a moment to be sure it wasn’t a trick question and then answered. “It’s dry cleaning.”
He stormed into the apartment and tossed the bag on the sofa before tearing into it. Holding the contents aloft, he asked again.
“Na, ah mean whit’s this?”
His kilt hung neatly folded and pinned to the hanger.
“Your skirt.”
“Mah—” He squinted at her, his lips twisted into a knot. “You’re daein’ that on purpose noo.”
She smirked. She was calling a skirt to tease him. It was true.
“Feel it,” he said shoving it towards her.