Chapter Thirty-Three
Gretchen
Why is Kirk staring at me like the proverbial deer in the headlights?
I've never seen him behave this way, almost as if he's about throw up or maybe pass out from shock.
He wasn't panicky when Dougal barged into the flat with his mafia-style minions and issued all sorts of nasty-sounding threats.
But now, when absolutely nothing scary is going on, he freezes.
I grab his arm, turning toward him. "Kirk, what's the matter? If you don't say three minutes, I'll call for an ambulance."
Why three minutes? No idea. The number popped into my head, that's all.
Kirk's lids flutter, and he squeezes them shut only to shake his head as if he's dazed.
"Okay, pal, that's it. I'm taking drastic action.
" I smack him across the face. No reaction.
Then I move on to the next tactic---kicking him in the shin.
Still nothing. "Snap out of it, Kirk! I can't believe you're so terrified of Dougal MacWraith that you've lost the ability to speak.
Seriously, Balfour, I'm about to get a stick and whack you with it. "
I grasp his shoulders and shake him hard again. "Kirk Balfour, if you don't tell me what's going on right now, I swear I'll---"
His eyes finally focus on me. And he whispers hoarsely, "I said it. Bod an Donais, I actually said it."
"Said what?" I demand, preparing to smack him again.
"In my head. That's when I spoke the words." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Gretchen, I love ye."
The world stops spinning for a moment. Did I hear him right?
"You...huh?" My voice comes out as a squeak.
Kirk's expression transforms from shock to outright joy. "I love ye, Gretchen. That's what scared the shite out of me. It just hit me like a bloody freight train."
I open my mouth, but no words come out. My brain is short-circuiting. Kirk Balfour loves me? Kirk Balfour, the man who's been driving me crazy in every way possible since I first laid eyes on him, is in love with me? I can do nothing but gape at him.
"Say something, Gretchen," he pleads. "Anything at all. Even if it's to tell me I'm a bod ceann."
I desperately want to speak, but my brain won't let me. Kirk Balfour loves me. "I, uh...don't know what to say. But, um, what is a 'bad key con'?"
"It's bod ceann, lass." He kisses my hand. "And it means 'dickhead.' That's what I am for not telling you sooner how I feel."
I gaze into his eyes, entranced by their stunning blue color, and try to process what's happening.
This is unreal. Kirk Balfour---mountain of a man, stuntman extraordinaire, Scottish sex god---is standing here seeming absolutely terrified because he just admitted he loves me.
And he's calling himself a dickhead in Scottish.
"You are not a dickhead, sweetie," I inform him. "But you do have a habit of surprising me at the strangest moments."
"Aye, I'm surprising myself too."
This wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to have a fling---a hot, passionate, and temporary escape from our lives, a Scottish adventure I could look back on fondly while sitting at my desk back in Gatlinburg. Instead, I now must admit something that shocks even me.
"Kirk, I'm in love with you too."
"Ye are?" His brows crinkle in the sweetest way. "Are ye sure about that?"
"Yes, I'm positive." I grasp his face and kiss him with an intensity that rocks me to my core. Kirk Balfour changed my life, so of course I tell him, "I love you too, you Scottish lunatic who jumps off jagged mountains and makes me feel like I could do anything too."
He nuzzles my cheek. "Say it again, gràidh."
"I love you, Kirk, craziest bastard on Planet Earth."
He sweeps me up in his arms and spins us round and round while I giggle and he laughs.
When he finally sets me down, we need a few minutes to come down from the high of expressing our feelings at last. We've known each other for less than two months, but it feels like eternity---in the most wonderful way.
But soon, he grows more serious as he brushes his hands through my hair and kisses my cheek. "Afraid we need to go now. We're expected at Mam and Da's house along with my brothers."
"I know." But I hesitate, biting my lip. "Could we keep our news just between us? For now? There are grave issues we all need to discuss."
"Aye. Best get moving."
Kirk's Porsche takes us to our destination swiftly, and before I know it, we're walking into the Balfour house where Roy, Kenina, Tam, and Neil greet us at the door. Once we're all inside, seated in the living room, it's time to discuss the Dougal problem.
Kirk's mother serves us tea as we gather in the living room.
I can sense the tension in the air wafting around us like malevolent spirits.
The way the Balfour family moves around each other shows years of practiced coordination.
They're a unit, a clan in their own right.
And now I'm part of this too, whatever "this" is.
"So," Roy begins, his voice carrying the same authoritative tone as Kirk's, only deeper and rougher, "tell us exactly what happened with MacWraith."
Kirk recounts the whole ordeal while I sip my tea, noting the family's reactions. Kenina's face grows stormy when Kirk mentions Kenny's watch.
"The nerve of that man," she hisses. "Coming into your home like that."
"With a key," I add, and all eyes turn to me. I try not to squirm under their scrutiny.
"A key?" Neil asks, his brow furrowing. "How in the bloody hell did Dougal get a key to your flat?"
Kirk huffs. "That's what I'd like to know. I've never given a key to anyone outside this room."
Tam leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Have you changed the locks since you moved in?"
"No," Kirk admits. "But the building's supposed to be secure."
"Nothing's secure when it comes to MacWraith," Roy growls. "The man has connections everywhere."
I clear my throat. "He also said something about watching us. Me and Kirk." I glance at my honey, remembering the chilling way Dougal had spoken. "He said he knows our weaknesses."
Kenina reaches over to touch my arm, her expression soft and sweet. "You've been put in danger because of our family's troubles, lass. I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault. I'm just worried about Kenny. And all of you."
"Kenny's no fainting flower," Tam says, but the worry in his voice betrays him. "He's survived worse."
"Like being a slave to the MacWraith clan." Kirk paces behind the sofa, restless energy radiating from him. "Has anyone heard from Archie yet?"
Neil shakes his head. "Not a word. But he said it would take a few hours aye?"
"That's right." Kirk slams his fist down on the arm of his chair. "We don't have a few hours. If MacWraith has Kenny---"
"We cannae know that for certain," Roy interrupts. "We need to think clearly, strategically."
I glance around the room, taking in the faces of these people who've become so important to me in such a short time. They're warriors, every one of them, but even warriors need a plan.
"What about the police?" I suggest, knowing even as I say it that it's probably not that simple.
"I told ye that's too risky." Kirk shakes his head, coming to sit beside me on the sofa. "The police won't move against MacWraith without concrete evidence. The man's too careful, too connected."
"Besides," Tam adds, "going to the authorities could put Kenny in more danger if MacWraith really has him."
The gravity of the situation hits me again. This isn't some corny action movie. This is real life, with real consequences. "What's the plan, then? We can't just sit here drinking tea while Kenny's in danger."
Roy sets his cup down with a decisive clink. "We need to find out where MacWraith's keeping him, if indeed he has Kenny at all. The watch doesn't necessarily mean---"
"Da," Kirk cuts in. "Youk now Kenny would never part with that watch willingly."
Roy nods, bowing his head. "Aye, son. I do know that."
A heavy silence falls over the room. I reach for Kirk's hand instinctively, threading my fingers through his. He squeezes back, his palm warm in mine.
For an hour, we brainstorm ideas but come up with nothing useful. Kirk offers to ask some of his friends for help, but I remind him we can't risk angering Dougal until we know what his real game is.
For now, all we can do is wait.