Kilty Pack One

by Amy Vansant

She reached out and stroked it once. “Soft.”

  “Exactly. Dae ye ken the time it took me tae get that kilt to the right texture? Twas damn near weatherproof.”

  “You mean from all the skin oil and dirt on it?”

  “Aye.”

  Her lip curled. “Ew.”

  He released a breath and his arms flopped to his sides like a deflating balloon. “This is terrible.”

  “I’m sure Jeanie was trying to do you a favor. Do you have everything you need?” She returned to her Internet search.

  “Howfur am ah to pack when ah dinnae even ken where ah'm going? Ah’m I needing a weapon? How much food and water should ah bring?”

  She sighed. “I forget sometimes who I’m talking to. I just meant pack a change of clothes and toothpaste. We’re not marching through Middle Earth with a band of Hobbits—”

  “Ooh.” His eyes lit. “That’s the fine minty sauce in the tiny, crinkly sack. Ah like that. But I ate it all. Dae ye have another one?”

  She looked up from her keyboard. “Minty sauce? What are you talking about—” She gasped and put her hand over her mouth. “Oh no. Toothpaste? You ate all the toothpaste?”

  He nodded.

  She took a deep breath and expelled it with a pop. “Okay. No worries. I’ll bring more.”

  He clapped his hands together. “Ooh. Kin ah bring the soap tae?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Tell me you didn’t eat the soap.”

  He scowled. “How come would ah eat that? It tastes terrible. Ah like the way it makes me feel, though.” He rubbed his hands up and down his body, as if mimicking a shower.

  She shut the laptop and threw him the keys to the apartments. “I’m going to get a shower and pack. Go grab your soap—go crazy and grab the shampoo too—and we’ll get out of here.”

  He snatched the keys from the air and dashed away. By the time Catriona stepped from the bedroom with her bag in hand, he’d returned holding a familiar white plastic bag. She caught a whiff of air freshener.

  “No. You can’t use a scented trash bag for luggage. Dump it all in here.” Sitting her bag on the back of the sofa, she zipped it open.

  Broch scowled and dumped the contents of the scented trash bag into her carryon. A wet bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, and a ceramic surfboard tumbled on top of her neatly folded clothing. It wasn’t until she noticed all the white specks spilling on to her clothes that she realized the surfboard was a salt shaker.

  She looked at him.

  “You’re sure that’s it? You don’t want to bring a lamp or the sofa—”

  “Can ah bring the glowing time?”

  It took her a moment to realize what he meant. “The alarm clock? No.”

  He rolled his lips in, seemed to think for a moment, and then handed his kilt to her.

  “We’re not going to be in a situation where you can wear this.”

  He pointed to the bag.

  She pressed the kilt into the bag, zipped it closed and pushed her high-sodium luggage out of her mind.

  “Let’s go.”

  Catriona took a few steps towards the door and stopped. She set her bag on the ground and leaned against the wall, slapping her opposite hand on her chest.

  He took a step toward her and she held up a hand to ward him off, sliding down the wall to sit on her heels. Taking deep slow breaths, she tried to clear her mind. No matter how much air she took it, it didn’t feel as if she were breathing.

  Broch squatted beside her. “Darlin’, yer scarin’ me. Whit can ah dae fur ye?”

  “It’s a panic attack. It will pass,” she whispered.

  “Panic?”

  “Anxiety. Too much. It makes my heart race...hard to breathe.”

  She shuddered, her body shaking, as if she’d been left in the cold for hours.

  “Aye. Come here.” His lips pressed into a hard line and he nodded once, like a man who’d decided it was time to take control of the situation.

  He sat on the floor in front of her and spread his legs. Grabbing her feet, he spread her legs as well, lifting them over his own, until one sat on either side of his hips. Scooting forward, he slipped his hand around her back and pulled her against his chest.

  The shock of the sudden movement almost made Catriona forget her attack. At first she resisted, fearing his bear hug would smother the last of the breath from her lungs, but as her legs wrapped around his waist and her body pressed against his, she felt the slow rhythm of his chest, rising and falling against her own.

  Her shaking slowed as her breathing matched his.

  “In and out,” he said softly in her ear. “There ye go, dear. In and out.”

  They sat like that, breathing as one for several minutes until the nausea subsided and she felt she could breathe normally again. Still, she remained clinging to him, long after the attack had passed.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held.

  He nuzzled beneath her ear. Her own lips parted and she nearly kissed his neck before realizing the nuzzling had been the result of him shifting his hips.

  His legs are falling asleep.

  She pulled back and he let her slide from his embrace.

  “Thank you. That helped.” Embarrassed, she avoided his eyes. She tried to stand, but he reached out and put a hand on her thigh.

  “Lassie—my mother Blair was proud and brave as a lion, but ah more than once found her sobbing in the stables such as ah thought she would die fae lack o' air. She hid her fears and worries 'til such a time that she could release them like the river after a storm. Ah think ye dae the identical. Tis nothin’ tae be ashamed aboot.”

  Catriona felt her eyes well with tears.

  “Ah know. Come here.”

  He snatched her back into his arms and squeezed her, swaying her back and forth in an exaggerated manner until she began to laugh.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, slapping his shoulder. “I’m fine now. I’m good.”

  “Dae ye feel better? Ah’ll swing the fear and sadness out of ye.”

  He rocked harder, bouncing from one butt cheek to the other, until she pushed away from him laughing and crying at the same time.

  “You’re insane,” she said, standing and wiping her tears.

  “Next time you’re feeling heavy, ye hug me or batter me or pound on mah chest 'til yer feelin' better, aye?”

  “Yes, fine, fine. Get up, you goon.”

  He jumped to his feet and touched his hair with both hands. “But ye cannae muss mah locks fur ah hae it just sae.”

  Her eyes drawn to his head, she reached out and touched his hair. It was stiff.

  “Oh no. You found the hair spray.”

  “Tis all gone noo.”

  “I can feel that.”

  “We need mair.”

  “I’ll get mair when we get back.”

  “Good. Let’s go then ye big cry-baby.”

  She gasped and he laughed a deep belly laugh as she pretended to swing at him.

  Gathering up their things, they left the apartment.

  Back downstairs, she grabbed a piece of paper Jeanie held out to her as they passed through. As she opened the front door she heard Broch behind her.

  “Ah need to talk to ye later, Miss Jeanie, aboot mah kilt.”

  Outside, Broch headed for the car and Catriona walked past it to a golf cart. She pulled it beside where he stood waiting, and he reluctantly sat beside her. He studied the pedal and steering wheel as she drove.

  “Ye hae sae many ways tae travel noo. Ah haven’t seen one horse. Whit hae ye done with them all?”

  “The dragons. Horses are their favorite food, you know.”

  His mouth fell open. His expression made everything that had happened up until that moment worth it.

  Catriona parked the golf cart next to a trailer, hopped out and knocked on the door. An older woman in a bright pink turban speckled with fake diamonds answered.

  “This had better be good,” she said, lighting a cigarette.
<
br />   “Lulu, you know you’re not supposed to smoke in the trailers,” said Catriona.

  “Oh please.”

  “May we come in?”

  Lulu peered over Catriona’s shoulder to ogle Broch, who now stood behind her.

  “Oh my. You brought me a present.” Lulu stepped aside to allow them entry.

  Catriona stepped back and held the door open as Broch passed her to enter the trailer. He paused, as if hoping for a moment to confer before walking into the dragon’s den, but Lulu grabbed the waist of his jeans and jerked him inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Sit here, dear,” said Lulu, shooing a long-legged white standard poodle from the trailer’s velvet loveseat. The poodle gave her a look that would have killed a cat and flopped on the ground a few feet away.

  Lulu pushed Catriona towards a stand-alone chair and guided Broch to the loveseat before melting into the cushion beside him. The claw not holding her cigarette slid down his chest and perched on the shelf of his pectoral muscle.

  “Tell me what you need,” she purred.

  Catriona sat in the chair. “Easy Lu. Your charms are lost on him. He’s not trying to catch a break in Hollywood and he has no idea who you are.”

  Lulu recoiled. “You don’t? How is that possible? I’m famous in the farthest reaches of all seven continents.”

  Catriona paused, considering her options. If she told the aging movie queen that Broch was from some faraway destination, she’d have to sit and wait while Lulu named all her movies, searching for some glimmer of recognition in Broch’s eye. Even if they insisted he’d been living in a monastery since birth, Lulu’s ego wouldn’t let it go.

  Then she remembered Lulu didn’t listen to a word that wasn’t about her.

  Why not tell the truth.

  “He’s from eighteenth century Scotland.”

  Lulu paused before releasing a loud, opened-mouthed laugh. Her square, white dentures flashed like a row of painted bricks. Clinging to the side of Broch’s chest like a Koala baby, she stared up into his face. “I wish that was true. You could be my big, handsome Highlander.”

  Catriona grinned. As expected, Lulu only heard the part she wanted to hear. Sexy young Highlander.

  Lulu pet his cheek. “I’ll get you copies of all my films. Maybe we can watch them together.”

  Broch’s eyes flashed with fear and Catriona placed her finger over her lips to pantomime a request for silence. He nodded and offered Lulu and uncomfortable smile.

  “Sounds fine.”

  Lulu cackled with delight.

  Catriona decide it was time to get back to business. “So, Lu, before you unhook your jaw and swallow poor Broch here whole—”

  “I’ve been known to do that,” said Lulu, her eyes never leaving Broch’s. “If you know what I mean.”

  He swallowed.

  Catriona sighed and barreled on. “—I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Of course. Anything for you, Cat dear.” Lulu trace the sharp edge of Brock’s jaw with her crimson-painted fingernail.

  “I need your plane.”

  The request caught Lulu’s attention and she leaned away from Broch a few inches to better peer at Catriona.

  “My plane? Why?”

  “Sean’s in trouble. I can’t get into details but I have to get to Tennessee faster than someone can drive.”

  “Well, Sweetie, that’s why God made Southwest Airlines for people like you.”

  Catriona shook her head. “Can’t. Broch doesn’t have I.D. I need your special plane. The one that doesn’t ask questions about the pretty boys you import from South America.”

  Lulu grinned as if remembering something pleasant and then pointed at Broch with a crooked claw. “He’s an illegal?”

  “As illegal as they come.”

  “Really?”

  If it were possible, Lulu seemed even more enraptured with the Highlander. She ran the hand holding her cigarette through Broch’s dark hair and Catriona winced, fearing the ember might set his hair spray experiment aflame.

  “Lu, please. It’s important.”

  “Is he a terrorist? I can’t give my plane to just anyone.”

  Catriona widened her eyes at Broch, silently begging him to help their cause.

  He cleared his throat. “Aye, Lulu, ye hae me dead tae rights. Ah ah’m a terrorist.”

  Catriona dropped her head into her hands.

  Oh no, no, no.

  “You are?” asked Lulu, withdrawing.

  Broch stopped her hand from pulling from his chest and leered, his voice dropping to a soft, husky tone. “Aye. Ah’m a terrorist. I’ll terrorize your loins.”

  Catriona’s jaw dropped.

  Wait. What?

  Lulu giggled like a school girl and tweaked his nipple through his t-shirt. Broch jumped and attempted a chuckle, though it sounded more like suppressed squeal of pain.

  Lulu leaned back and raised her cigarette to her lips. The ash, which had grown over an inch long, fell into her lap. She ignored it as Catriona fought the urge to slap at it.

  “Fine. I’ll trade you the plane for a weekend with—”

  Lulu held up her hand, creating a wall between herself and Broch, and then used her other hand to surreptitiously point at him from behind it.

  Catriona shook her head. “He isn’t mine to bargain with. He isn’t trying to climb the ladder.”

  Lulu tittered. “I’ve been called a lot of things but never a ladder.”

  Catriona smiled. “Sorry. Can’t do it.”

  “Hm. Okay. How about this? You can have the plane, but you have to take the girls. They have a hair dressing appointment in New York in three days anyway. You’ll save me the trip.”

  “Why New York? Can’t they get it done here?”

  “Are you mad? This place is crawling with hacks.”

  Catriona sighed. “I don’t mind, but I’ll be in Tennessee not New York.”

  Lulu dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand that sent another chunk of ash fluttering to the ground. “I’ll have a car pick them up and take them the rest of the way.”

  “Thank you. But we have to go now.”

  “Fine. I’ll call and have them prepare the plane. Do you have a preference for flight crew? Girls? Boys? Open to interpretation?”

  “Just regular old flight crew is fine. We’re going to help Sean, not explore our sexual boundaries.”

  “Excellent. That will save me a fortune. I’ll have the girls out in a moment.” Lulu stood, took Broch’s face in her palm and kissed him square on the mouth. She winked at Catriona and swept past the poodle to enter a closed door at the back of the trailer, dog tight on her heels.

  Catriona stood and nodded towards the front door. Broch jumped to his feet and followed her out, nearly knocking her over in his haste.

  “Wha wis that? She’s git a tongue lik’ an eel.”

  “Lulu. She’s a famous actress. Been with the studio nearly fifty years. I think she liked you.”

  Catriona giggled and saw the Highlander blush.

  “I’m nae sure that’s good,” he said, wiping ruby lipstick from his lips with the back of his hand.

  “No, it’s good. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of her affections, believe me.”

  Still smacking his lips as if to rid them of a foul taste, Broch glared. “Ye used me lik’ a piece o’ beef. Ye could hae warned me.”

  “Sorry. I should have. I’m well aware that it never hurts to bring a good-looking young man to a meeting with Lulu.”

  Broch’s scowl shifted to a smirk. “Ye think ah’m good-lookin’ then?”

  She shrugged. “Eh.”

  He chuckled and looked back at the trailer. “Her girls…ye know, ah dinnae think tis safe tae take her daughters tae war with us.”

  “They won’t be near the action.”

  “But—”

  The door to the trailer flung open and two white standard poodles ran down the stairs. Lulu trailed behind at the oppos
ite end of their pink rhinestone-studded leashes. It was impossible to tell which dog was the one they’d seen displaced from its spot on the loveseat. The two were identical.

  Lulu slapped the leashes into Broch’s hand. “Here. They’ll have the plane ready when you get there.”

  He looked down at the poodles.

  “These are your lassies?”

  “These are my poodles. Lassie was a collie. I knew her. Dumb as a box of rocks.” She put her face close to Broch’s. “I want you to know, you sexy hunk of haggis, if you ever feel the urge, feel free to come back and see me some time.”

  Broch nodded.

  Lulu tapped his cheek twice and with a sweep of her silk kimono, re-entered the trailer, slamming the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sean awoke when the movement stopped to find himself still in the trunk of Thorn’s car. He’d willed himself to sleep for what he hoped had been a few hours. The way they’d tied his arms and legs, his discomfort was nearly unbearable. Worse, it reminded him he wasn’t young anymore.

  It took him a moment to realize his alarm clock had been the sound of Thorn berating one of his henchmen.

  “So you gave your license to the man at the hotel back in California?” screamed a voice he recognized as Thorn’s.

  “Yes. I mean, he asked for it.”

  “You moron. Don’t you understand? If they decide to pull records at that motel it could lead them right to you. Right to your damn house.”

  “Who’s going to find it? Who’s looking for us? That girl and the dude in the skirt?”

  Sean heard a crack and suspected that Thorn had smacked the other man. “It’s not a skirt, you jackass. We left a dead man a few hundred yards from that hotel. Get it? Somebody will check out that hotel.” Thorn roared with frustration. “Get in the damn car.”

  Car doors opened and closed and the vehicle shook. The engine started. Sean felt them ease back out onto the road.

  He licked his lips. They hadn’t thought to offer him water. There were some holes between the trunk and the main compartment of the car and some air conditioning trickled through, but it was still hot and his muscles ached.

  Now he knew Thorn had left behind a thread. That gave him both hope and additional concerns. When Luther grabbed his phone, did he call the police or Catriona?