Savage: The Awakening of Lizzie Danton

by L. A. Fiore

  Horror twisted in my gut. I had expected bad, but I hadn’t expected evil. “He put her loss on his son?”

  “Aye. He was such a sweet boy; from the day he was born, sweet and innocent. It seems like only yesterday he was chasing butterflies on his little two-year-old legs. There is so much of his mother in him, even now, her kindness and calm deposition. Finlay didn’t see any of that. The older Brochan grew, the more twisted Finlay became. I won’t go into detail, that’s for Brochan to share, but I will say he was not safe around his father. He endured a lot and it didn’t break him. But everyone has their limit. I can’t tell you how hard it was for Finnegan and I to see the change in him from that sweet and trusting little boy, to the hard and closed off man he is now.”

  His thank you earlier touched me in an entirely different way, learning what demons he battled and how somehow I had gotten through.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “Why he is the way he is.” She glanced up at the house. “I’m needed in the kitchen.” She said nothing more, just took my hand and squeezed before she left me with my thoughts.

  BROCHAN

  My kilt hung from my closet door. Fenella had had it cleaned. I couldn’t believe I’d worn it. I had almost burned it in the fire, but I felt that connection Miss Danton mentioned, that link to the past. It was why it had been spared; even wishing to bring about the extinction of the McIntyre clan, I hadn’t destroyed it. Apparently, I lacked conviction.

  I’d acted like an adolescent, foolishly trying to please my girl. My girl? She wasn’t mine. She was a houseguest, Brianna’s kin, and also the woman who, despite my best efforts, kept drifting into my thoughts more often than she should. The look on her face though, she felt it too. Whatever the hell was brewing between us, it was mutual.

  Curious what she was up to, I went in search of her. Right outside the great hall, I found her. Resting my shoulder against the wall, I crossed my arms over my chest and fought a grin. Miss Danton was trying to look under the paintings in the great hall…every single one. The paintings were bolted to the wall due to their size and weight. After a few, she was beginning to see the pattern. She stepped back, dropped her hands on her hips and blew her hair out of her face. She looked annoyed, slightly frustrated, and fucking adorable. She glanced my way then did a double take. I enjoyed watching her cheeks turn pink from her embarrassment.

  “Hey,” she called.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her eyes narrowed. She looked annoyed again. “What did you think I was doing?”

  “I haven’t a clue, which is why I asked.”

  “I was trying to find the television.”

  “Under the paintings?”

  “Rich people hide safes behind paintings. Why not televisions.”

  “You want to watch television?”

  “I just finished painting for the day and I was hoping to unwind, but I’m too tired to focus on a book.”

  “Even one where you skip to the end.”

  I had the sense if I was anyone else, she would have stuck her tongue out at me. She had that look, one of a petulant child, but on her it was oddly cute.

  “There’s a television in the library.”

  “I looked there first. I didn’t see it.”

  I gestured for her to precede me. “I’ll show you.”

  Something was on her mind; she seemed fidgety. She didn’t make me wait long before she said, “You wore your kilt.”

  Instinct for me was to evade, but I found that wasn’t instinct around her. “You had a persuasive argument.”

  She twisted her fingers together before she added, “It’s a really good look on you.”

  Those shyly spoken words went right to my balls. Yeah, whatever was happening, she felt it too.

  We reached the library and I led her to the back where a smaller sitting area was set up. The look on her face was priceless. She thought I’d lost my mind.

  “There’s no television back here.”

  I slid the panel that looked to be part of the bookcase to reveal the television. Her eyes widened, but instantly turned to slits. “How is that any different than behind a painting?”

  It wasn’t, but it was fun getting a rise out of her. “What did you want to watch?”

  “A movie would be nice. Do you have pay per view?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe a superhero flick, Superman, Avengers, Thor, Wonder Woman, Batman, but only the ones with Christian Bale. Who is your favorite superhero?”

  My blank look wasn’t lost on her. I rarely watched television.

  “Have you ever seen the movies I mentioned?”

  “No.”

  She had a thought on that but kept it to herself. “I think Avengers. You’ll watch it with me, right?”

  I’d stay for only a few minutes. “For a bit.”

  “We need popcorn. Tell me you have popcorn?”

  “I have no idea if we have popcorn.”

  “I’ll go. You cue up the movie.” She ran from the room then peeked her head back in. “Maybe when it gets dark we can watch a scary movie. I both love and hate scary movies.”

  I couldn’t believe I was actually looking forward to watching a ridiculous movie with superheroes of all things. I was a thirty-five year old man who killed people for a living and yet here I was preparing to watch a movie with a woman I couldn’t get out of my head. I was fucking losing my mind.

  She returned; cheering as she held a bag of what I assumed was popcorn over her head. “I got us soda too.”

  I was on the sofa, left her the chair. She had other plans; sitting so close she was practically on top of me. She crossed her legs and put the bag of popcorn between them. I wasn’t sure if she was teasing me because I had teased her, but the idea of putting my hand between her legs to get the popcorn, coupled with her ass resting on part of my thigh, yeah I was hard and growing harder. Where the fuck was my discipline?

  “Hit play. You’re going to love it.”

  I wasn’t even going to watch it.

  She knocked my arm with her elbow and handed me the soda, but her eyes were glued to the set.

  “Have you seen this before?” I thought she had, but with how excited she was maybe I misunderstood her.

  “Yeah, a dozen times at least. It’s awesome. There’s a second one, we can watch that after this.”

  The opening credits rolled. I placed the soda on the table and prepared my excuse as soon as the movie started, not that I thought she’d care. She was already in the zone and it was just names flashing on the screen.

  Two hours later, I understood her enthusiasm.

  “You liked it,” she said knowingly.

  “I did.”

  “The second one is awesome too, unless you have something else to do.”

  I had plenty to do, but at the moment there was nothing else I wanted to do but sit in my library with Miss Danton, who made my body ache in all the right ways, and watch as the Avengers kicked ass.

  I reached for the remote then glanced at her from the corner of my eye. “We need more popcorn.”

  LIZZIE

  My pillow was very hard. Was my head resting on a rock? I slowly woke and felt a little disoriented until I saw the television. I glanced down and noticed it wasn’t a pillow, but Brochan’s thigh. A thigh that had a bit of drool on it. I wiped at my mouth and sat up. The television was off; Brochan’s head was resting on the sofa back. He was sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him, but I did want to see the awesome man that was Brochan McIntyre sleeping. He didn’t look peaceful, even in sleep his expression was stern. There was a line between his brows. I wanted to rub that line away. I wondered what he was dreaming about. Did he dream?

  His head turned and his eyes opened, those pale blue eyes that I had thought looked icy, but there was nothing cold about them now. “We missed the ending,” he said.

  “W
e can watch it again.”

  “It’s cold. I’ll start a fire.”

  He stood, stretched that tall body and walked to the fireplace. He’d watched television with me; he’d let me drool on him. How was it the townsfolk had such crazy notions about him? I joined him, resting against the wall as he worked.

  “Why do the townsfolk think you’re a werewolf? The rumor had to come from somewhere.”

  I noticed the muscles in his back and shoulders tensed. I wouldn’t push, but I did think he should know Fenella had shared a bit about him.

  “Fenella told me part of your story.”

  His head jerked up.

  “Not details, just that you didn’t have any better a childhood than I did.”

  He finished with the fire then moved to the bar. “Do you want a drink?”

  A little whisky would be nice. “Please, what you’re having.”

  He splashed a few fingers in two highballs and handed me one. I sat on the sofa closest to the fire.

  “What was Brianna like?”

  He took the seat across from me. The easiness from early was missing, but I understood how the past could haunt. “She was fierce and loyal. Pigheaded and convinced she knew best.” His gaze flickered to me. “You remind me of her.”

  He was teasing, but it warmed me to know I was like her. “It’s fascinating that Aunt Brianna raised my mother and yet she is nothing like her. How someone can be so different from the person who helped form them into the person they became.”

  “Your mother is an anomaly, it skipped a generation.”

  I liked he thought so.

  It was a risk mentioning Tomas, but I was curious how he’d react. I took a sip of the whisky and enjoyed the warmth that followed. Carefully, I said, “I ran into Tomas in town the other day.” If looks could kill. “I see the animosity is mutual.”

  “He’s a dick.”

  “I agree.” I debated if I should continue. Curiosity won out. “He had some very interesting things to say about you.” Our eyes met. “He said you were a hitman.”

  It was his lack of reaction that twisted my stomach into a knot.

  “It’s true?”

  He said nothing, but it was an affirmation. I was mildly alarmed at the revelation. My only reference for hitmen was from movies and television. Regardless, I never thought I’d be sitting across from one. Knowing that when he left on business after I was sick he was off killing someone was definitely unnerving. Even being unnerved, I didn’t feel fear because this was Brochan. The same man who had nursed me back to health, had let me use his lap as a pillow, had put on his kilt and tossed a caber in some sense for me. In the time we’d spent together, I was learning there were many layers to him. A hitman was only one.

  He didn’t take his eyes off me, challenging me or waiting for me to run away.

  “How did you become a hitman?”

  Surprise flashed in those pools of blue. “That’s it?”

  “Were you expecting me to run screaming from the room?”

  “At least cross yourself. The folks in town all do when I’m near.”

  “Is it jarring to hear you’re a hired killer? Yes. Am I in shock? Probably. But killing is what you do, not who you are.”

  “Did you just say that?”

  “It’s true. You spent the afternoon watching the Avengers with me. You took me to the healing circle and showed me around the Highland games. Are you ruthless, cold even? I imagine you need to be, but there’s more to you than that. Besides, I’ve thought about killing people and not just in passing like when someone cuts you off in traffic and then honks at you. No, I’ve thought hard about killing a few people. If I had a little more guts, I might have followed through.”

  His expression was priceless. He thought I was nuts.

  “Would you prefer that I run screaming from the room?”

  “It would be more understandable than your easy acceptance.”

  “I’ve seen ugly too. Maybe because I have I understand better than most what we do to cope with that ugly.”

  He finished his whisky then stood. “I’m not sure if you’re a curse or a gift.” He placed his glass on the table and walked out of the room.

  “Funny, I was wondering the same about you,” I said into the empty room.

  I was heading into town to have lunch with Fergus. My thoughts drifted to Brochan often since last night. I had thought I’d be more freaked out this morning, having the night to process that the man I had been keeping company with was a killer. I wasn’t freaked. In fact, I found him even more fascinating. I understood now why the townsfolk thought he was a werewolf; he was beautiful and deadly. Tomas’ behavior, knowing that he was right about Brochan, didn’t make sense. Why taunt a man who made a living hurting people? Did the dude have a death wish?

  I arrived before Fergus. Bridget seated me. “Coffee?” she asked.

  “Please.”

  The door opened and Fergus strolled in and called to Blair, “A plate of haggis.” He really liked his haggis. I had yet to try the can I bought, the can Brochan had encouraged I try.

  “I see that look, lass, but it is delicious. You should try it.”

  “I’m talking myself into it.”

  His laugh sounded like a gun blast. He folded himself in the chair across from me. “I haven’t seen you around.”

  “I’m working on a painting.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Really well. That’s understating it. I’ve never been this excited about a piece before.”

  “I’m not surprised. ’Tis Scotland.” He definitely had country pride.

  I rested my arms on the table. I had to tell him about Norah. I didn’t want to because I didn’t want to set the mood for lunch, but he needed to know. “I do have some news that isn’t great.”

  His large brows furrowed. “I’m listening.”

  I explained the situation with Norah. His expressions were both scary and not surprising. Bridget returned with our food.

  “I don’t understand how that woman is kin to Brianna and you.”

  I wondered that myself but had no answer except for Brochan’s. It skipped a generation.

  “Thank you for telling me. Joseph is good, really good. If he says he has this, he does.”

  I was relieved to hear that, still the journey to the verdict was going to be trying.

  Fergus started digging into his haggis. “What are you painting?”

  I hesitated sharing because I knew he’d have an opinion on my choice of subjects. “Brochan McIntyre’s home.”

  His fork came down with force, his eyes snapping to me. “Lass, Brochan is bad news.”

  “I’m just painting his castle.” I didn’t mention the attraction, or that I was growing to like him or the fact that I knew he was figuratively a big bad wolf and it didn’t make a lick of difference regarding the aforementioned attraction.

  He wasn’t appeased. Did he know about Brochan’s profession? “Why is he bad news?”

  “Haven’t you noticed that his eyes are empty?”

  I didn’t see empty. In the beginning I saw hard and closed off. Now I saw interest. And even if they were empty, my own had been empty once too.

  “I watched him nearly beat a kid to death. He was sixteen, old enough to know better. Tomas’ jaw was wired shut for eight weeks.”

  Tomas? Now that was interesting. I wanted to break his jaw and I hardly knew the man.

  “Why did he beat him up?”

  “Is there any reason to justify beating someone nearly to death?”

  The correct answer was no, however nothing was that black and white. And Tomas, the man grated and I hardly knew him. I think if I had to spend any amount of time with him I’d probably cause him physical harm too. “No, but there can be factors that make people do the unthinkable.”

  “He’s been doing the unthinkable his whole life. He has no remorse, no empathy. I’m telling ye, lass. Stay away from him.”

  Interesting tha
t Fergus didn’t see what I did, but Aunt Brianna had. “I appreciate the warning, but I’ve learned from personal experience that things are not always what they seem. You might be right about Brochan, but I prefer forming my own opinion.”

  The smile came out of nowhere. “You sound just like Brianna. Fine, form your own opinion, but I am not above saying I told you so.”

  “So noted.”

  On the way back to Brochan’s, I detoured to his family’s ancestral home. This place hadn’t been a home for him and I suspected it wasn’t a memorial so much as a reminder. Still, there was history here. He had family that had lived on these lands for centuries. It seemed to me it might be cathartic for him to learn about the others who came before him. Possibly now after the Highland games, he might be receptive to looking into them.

  I fiddled with the medallion I had found. I carried it with me. I’m not sure why. I should return it to Brochan, but I found comfort in it. Maybe because it had survived what had to have been an inferno and still it had endured. I felt a little bit like that. I had endured the inferno. I was singed a bit, but I was still in one piece.

  I hadn’t realized I wasn’t alone until that deep voice startled me. “What are you doing here?”

  I expected to see anger when I turned to him. Instead, I saw nothing. He wasn’t even looking at me, his focus on the ruins around us. What happened here? Fenella and Finnegan adored him; Aunt Brianna had loved him. That wasn’t usually the case when someone was so hardened and removed from others. According to Fenella, he had been a sweet and loving child, so what had his father done to him to turn him into the man he was now?

  I didn’t think he was waiting for an answer to his question, but I gave him one anyway. “It’s peaceful.”

  I didn’t imagine the harsh exhale. “It is now.”

  I wanted to ask what I didn’t know; I wanted to know what his father did to him. Instead, I bit my lip.

  “There used to be a pond over there.”