by Lora Andrews
“You do?”
“Should I not?”
“No—I mean yes.” God! “Yes, you should believe me. I’m only trying to help you.”
He secured the knife to the belt tied around his waist. “You’ve fear marked upon your bonny face. Were you a dark witch, you would have unleashed your vengeance without remorse.”
Oookay. Caitlin blew a loose strand of hair from her face and backed away from the barefooted giant raving about witches and vengeance. Maybe she hadn’t heard him right. Then again, with her luck, the guy was probably an escapee from Corrigan Psychiatric, and instead of calling for help, she was arguing with him and perpetuating his psychosis.
A thick scab ran across his forehead. A brawl? She didn’t see any other bruises. Stubborn jawline. Five o’clock shadow. Sharp blue eyes. Who was he?
He arched a brow. “Do I meet your approval?”
Heat flushed her cheeks and she averted her face. “I was checking for injuries.”
“Ah.” He grinned. “My apologies, then, for before. I had to ensure you meant me no harm.”
“Can I have my phone back?”
He cocked his head. “What function does this strange box perform?” The turquoise blue of her cell phone case slid between his agile fingers as he analyzed her phone with bewilderment. Before she could complete another thought, he shoved her behind his massive frame.
A fit, older man stalked into the clearing. “Well, now isn’t this charming?” With a military-style haircut and an expensive suit, the man looked like an action movie villain.
“Do you know this man?” she asked the Scotsman in front of her.
“Nay.” His attention locked on the group shoving though the tree line to stand behind their leader. Six men dressed in similar suits with swords strapped to their backs.
Was this a joke? An elaborate prank meant to scare the bejesus out of her? If so, it was definitely working. She was scared shitless.
“Ms. Reed, we meet at last.” The leader gave a wave of his hand.
Her jaw dropped. She never forgot a face, and his was a face she didn’t know.
He laughed. “I see I’ve left you speechless. All the better. Now be a good girl and hand over the stone. There’s no sense in delaying the inevitable.”
“There must be some mistake.” Goosebumps prickled her skin.
“Very well. We’ll play it your way.” To his men, he barked, “Grab the girl. Kill the warrior.”
What?
“Stay behind me.” The warrior’s roughened voice pierced her shock. “Run when I tell you.”
Her heart thumped in her chest. “This can’t be happening.”
Oh, but it was, and vicious intent shone in the faces of each of her would-be captors. They fanned out in an arc. A soldier broke from the center and attacked. The Scotsman ducked to avoid the strike, wielding his knife like a venomous snake—lashing out, making contact, pulling back. And then one by one the others followed suit until all six were in the fray as the leader watched from the sidelines with a wicked grin on his face.
It would be a massacre.
Caitlin bent over and searched the forest floor for a weapon—a rock, a stick, dirt—anything she could use to help thwart the attackers. She curled her fingers around a fallen branch and whipped around, wielding her broken tree limb like Excalibur.
The warrior roared, the savage sound mixing with the other sounds filling the air. Grunts. Flesh striking flesh. Metal clanging. His body moved to a rhythm he appeared to know all too well. In a blur of steel and limbs, his opponents fell to the ground. But they refused to stay down, rising from the damp, leaf-strewn earth like zombies searching for brains.
“Stay close,” he ordered, using his body to shield her from their attackers.
Two of the black suited men cornered him. One locked him in a chokehold, and the other drew his sword. Caitlin stabbed the one closest with her flimsy stick, the wood breaking on contact. In a flash, the warrior maneuvered out of the hold, slammed the first attacker to the ground and pierced his chest, then embedded the blade into the second man’s torso. Blood seeped through the fallen man’s shirt.
Another sword swung. Caitlin ducked to avoid the blow. The Scotsman toppled the man to the ground and hijacked his weapon to fight the next man.
“Now,” he bellowed in his thick brogue. “Run, lass. I’ll be right behind you.”
Adrenaline fired into her blood. Caitlin bolted ahead, arms pumping at her sides. One of the attackers fisted his fingers around her ponytail and wrenched her to the ground.
Pain seared her scalp. She shut her eyes, expecting the stab of his sword. So many regrets. So many unfulfilled what-ifs battled to fill her mind. So many dreams she’d never had the courage to pursue. But she wouldn’t beg for her life. She might have lived as a coward, but she wouldn’t die one.
With a snarl, the man reached down and clutched the zippered collar of her running top. He hauled her up and dragged her back to the melee, kicking and screaming the whole way. She dug her fingers into his forearm and bit as hard as she could. The bastard punched the side of her head. A second later, his body slumped to the ground with a thump, a sword protruding from his back.
Caitlin drew her eyes away from the weapon jutting out of his corpse at her feet. The towering he-man stood over her with his hand extended.
“Can you run?” he asked.
“What?”
“Are you well enough to run, lass?”
“Yeah.” She could run. Accepting the help, she ignored the zing of energy shooting up her arm as he lifted her to her feet. Fallen bodies littered the forest floor. “This way,” she choked out.
The beginning of a panic attack bubbled in her chest. Shifting her thoughts from the carnage in the field, she focused on the here and now, on a plan—because any plan would be better than running wildly through the woods. She noted markers as she ran and the green trail she’d crossed earlier. The gas line easements would be east of their current position. If she followed the pipeline in a northerly direction, they would come up to the Lake Street park entrance. Her car was stationed just a few feet away. But with it being mid-October, most of the leaves had fallen. She just hoped the combination of evergreens and deciduous trees would give them enough cover to reach the car. It was a plan, or at least the beginnings of one, until they made it out of the woods and figured out what to do next.
On their race to the parking lot, they didn’t pass a single soul. What the hell was going on? Behind her, the wounded Scotsman waved her forward, but stumbled. His pace had slowed significantly. They had about a quarter of a mile left to go, and by the looks of his sluggish stride, she wasn’t sure he’d make it to the car. The thought of carrying his two-hundred-plus pounds of muscled flesh to the parking lot, without assurance their sword-wielding fanatics were out of the picture, spiked her pulse. But she wouldn’t leave him behind. Not after he’d risked his life to save hers. She almost cried out in relief when she saw the trail leading to the parking lot.
Just a few more feet.
With her key remote held tightly between her thumb and forefinger, she unlocked the doors and pushed through the final leg of the route. Gasping for breath, she opened the door and threw herself into the front seat. The sooner they were out of the woods, the sooner she could put this whole morning behind her. Take a shower. Drive to work. Tell her students a funny tale about her morning.
Okay, maybe recounting her near kidnapping to a bunch of second graders was inappropriate. She’d settle for the hot shower. And the coffee.
The overexertion claimed her and she fumbled with the keys, muttering a slew of curses when she finally shoved the key into the ignition. The warrior approached the vehicle just as she started the car. He halted a few feet away from the passenger door, his face drained of color.
Please don’t pass out on me now.
“Come on. Get in!” she yelled at the windshield.
Blood seeped through his shirt. She jumped out of the c
ar and scrambled to where he stood, white as a ghost. “Can you make it inside?”
He nodded warily, ogling the car with the strangest expression.
“Get in.” She opened the passenger door and hurried back to the driver’s side. She didn’t have time to figure him out. “I don’t see anyone following.”
Yet…
He stared at the interior of the SUV—what the heck?—until the sound of male voices jarred him from his stupor.
Oh, God. “They’re coming.” Blood pounded her ears. “Get in the car. Get in the car!”
The warrior climbed into his seat. Caitlin threw the car into reverse before he could swing the door shut. He pressed against the seat and gripped the edges of the leather cushion, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.
Men burst from the dirt path.
Caitlin tore her eyes from the rear window and shifted into drive. With her foot completely depressed on the gas pedal, she fishtailed out of the lot, leaving a billowing cloud of dust in her wake.
FOUR
Ewen hissed. The unnatural contraption moved at an ungodly pace, amplifying the aches and pains he’d collected in back-to-back attacks. Blood trickled from the wound he’d sustained battling the fiends in Ardgour, and now his head spun with an infuriating nausea he’d felt the moment he’d landed here.
Wherever here was.
Jaw clenched, he scanned the non-wood interior of the cabin. Gray and black consumed every inch of the strange cart. Odd components for a horseless carriage driven by the most peculiarly-dressed woman he had ever seen. Her trews and tunic were constructed of a fine black fabric that clung to her curves like a second skin. Clothing that fired a man’s imagination.
Clutching a wheel with a white-knuckled grip, she hurled anxious looks between the wide glass outside the chariot, and a smaller, rectangular-shaped mirror above her head. Loose strands of long, wavy brown hair escaped the knot at the back of her head and fell wildly about her face, calling attention to eyes the color of highland grass.
A beautiful woman with the wiles to lure the unsuspecting.
He forced his gaze back to the glass, to the landscape racing by at incredible speeds, and to the homes the like of which he’d never seen. Vibrations rumbled from beneath the cart. The wind whooshed and beat against the glass, a style foreign to any he had known in all his thirty-two years. He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth and wiped his bloodied knuckles against the fabric of his léine.
By the saints, where am I?
The lass swore she was no witch, and maybe that was true, but the sorceress had sent him here with one directive: to save her. Was this woman the “her” he’d be forced to aid?
He fisted his hands. Surely the gruesome deaths discovered in Ardgour were tied to this woman. Given her garb, the coach she drove, and the circumstances of their meeting, there was no doubt in his mind magic was involved. Magic that had torn him from his home and deposited him in this god-forsaken place.
“No. No. No. No.” Her head swung from the wheel to the small mirror in a frantic arc. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
His neck prickled. Behind them, a black carriage approached at a high rate of speed.
“Lass, by what name do you answer?”
“What?” An exasperated expression settled on her face, one that told him now was no time for introductions. He held back a smile. “Your name. What are you called?”
“Caitlin.”
“I am Ewen, son of Lachlan. What do you call this conveyance we ride in?”
“Um, an SUV?”
“Es-u-vee.” He tested the strange word on his tongue. “Are you in full control of this es-u-vee? Do you control its speed and direction?”
“Yes.” Her forehead wrinkled, but her attention never wavered from the road.
“Good then.” They hadn’t much time.
Ewen scanned the road surface ahead. Their SUV traveled along a black, hard-packed road that was dry and clear of sand. Without knowing the territory, a disadvantage that grated on his nerves, they were left with only two options: evasion or speed.
As the enemy closed the gap between them, those options were whittled to one. Ewen pointed to the slight bend in the road. “Direct the SUV up ahead. You will accelerate then halt on my command. Do you understand?”
“Are you crazy?” She glanced over in his direction. “You want me to speed up and brake?”
“Aye.” He arched an eyebrow. Was the lass feebleminded? “Is that no’ what I asked?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Caitlin’s breathing accelerated and her features clouded with fear.
Ewen gentled his voice. “Breathe easy, lass. We will no’ perish this day.”
“Easy for you to say.” Her grip tightened on the wheel. “Braking is insane. I’d like to live to see tomorrow.”
“As would I, lass.” Ewen tore his attention from the woman and stole another glance to the back of the SUV. In the woods, her attackers had lacked the fire and will of seasoned warriors in battle. All but their craven leader, a Scot no less by his accent, who wore death in his eyes like a badge of honor.
But here on this road, what the fiends lacked for in experience, they compensated with a relentless pursuit of their prey. The time to act was now before the enemy overtook them and ripped the advantage from their hands.
“Tell me, Caitlin.” The rapid rise and fall of her chest drew his eye. “Do you know why these men seek you? For ’tis you, they seek.”
She swiped strands of hair from her face. “I don’t know. I run that trail every single morning before work. This is crazy. None of this makes sense.”
Crazy? What work would she perform in the woods? “Your enemy is determined and will no’ relinquish the hunt easily. Can this cart outpace the one your foes command?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then the only solution is to outmaneuver the enemy.” He let his words settle between them. “Use the unexpected to our advantage. Do you suspect they’ll foretell the halting of this vehicle?”
Doubt flashed in her eyes. “No, but do you have any idea what will happen if I do that?”
“Aye, ’tis a calculated risk. You’ve a right to be concerned. The alternative then is to wait to be overcome by your enemy. Did you notice a second trailing the first?”
Her head snapped in the direction of the mirror. “Oh, shit.” She bit her lower lip. “If this doesn’t work, you realize we’re dead, right? That car is way too close. He’ll rear-end us.”
“Should they capture us, our deaths are certain. Will your restraints withstand the impact should it occur?”
“How the hell do I know? The airbags should help but—”
She glanced at the mirror. Her face blanched. He could see the internal struggle warring within her as the emotions played across her face.
“Caitlin, this is our best chance to evade our pursuers.”
“I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this crazy idea. You need to seatbelt yourself.” She tugged her thumb against the gray belt.
He reached over his shoulder and fumbled with the strap, marveling at the smoothness of the material compared to the hardness of the metal.
“This whole freaking day… If we can just get onto the highway...” Her eyes shifted to the rear-view mirror, hands trembling at the wheel. “Oh god, they’re gaining.”
He scrutinized her belt and jammed the reflective piece of his into a small black barrel painted with a bright red stripe. “You are aware there may be an ambush up ahead, aye? The best tactic is one we control. We will no’ have the element of surprise should we linger much longer.”
“We have a better chance of getting away by car. Without a car, we’re on foot. Then what? Back to square one?”
His eyes narrowed. “Woman, we lose time. I don’t understand the workings of this cart or its safeguards.” Or half of the words she spoke. “Whatever the fates decide this day, I will protect you. On my honor, I give you my word.”
> “Shit. Shit. Oh, shit.” She turned her head to the left. The faster approaching vehicle passed the other SUV using the outside lane.
Other than taking possession of the diabolical contraption himself, he was out of options. The decision was hers to make, a fact that weighed like lead in the pit of his stomach.
“We’re not going to make the highway. Oh, god.” She sighed. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it.” She nodded her head. “Tell me what to do.”
Aye, lass. “Wait for my command.”
Ewen searched the road for a patch free of debris, alternating his probe between the impending vehicle and the black road surface. Up ahead on the left, a stone fence lined a section of the road. To his right lay a grassy meadow free of trees or other obstacles. Should their vehicle spin out of control, the meadow would give them a better chance of survival. Decision made, he executed the plan.
“Now.”
For a split second, she hesitated. Then her arms locked on the wheel and she slammed her foot to the floor. A thunderous screech belched throughout the cabin. Ewen extended one arm across her and stabilized himself by flattening his other hand against the weirdly shaped panel before him. His body jerked forward then rebounded harshly, the belt taut against his torso. Goods hurled from behind as the SUV shuddered to a complete stop.
Behind them, a loud, alien squeal was followed by the sound of metal crashing on metal. A cacophony of unfamiliar sounds—crunching glass, creaks and groans buffered by an inhuman hiss—stripped away the deathly silence that permeated the interior of the cabin.
Caitlin’s arms fell into her lap. She opened her eyes, and her mouth gaped when she surveyed the lack of damage to their vehicle. A hoarse sigh escaped her lips. She turned her head to the left to the carnage steaming on the roadway.
“Oh, my god,” she whispered.
To avoid striking the rear of their vehicle, the SUV directly behind them had swerved and collided with the second vehicle, converging into a smoldering heap of metal scattered across the remains of the stone wall.
Caitlin unstrapped the belt and moved to open the door, her eyes riveted to the crash scene.