Chapter 12
Bayne
I plan on spending the day home and keeping an eye on Kitt, like I have the past three days. We move around one another like planets within their own orbits. It’s taken a bit of adjustment, having a woman in my house. Can’t walk around naked as the day I was born anymore, can I? But the food, I’ve easily gotten used to.
I get a phone call from my brother, interrupting my quiet day. Eamon’s in a panic, his voice getting higher by the minute as he yells down the phone. “I’m telling you,” he shouts, “they’re onto us!”
“Us?” I ask. “Last time I checked, I’m the one playing prison guard.”
“You know I’ve got your back. I’m in this with you.”
“This is my issue. Not yours. Stay out of it,” I warn him.
He needles me with, “How can I stay out of it when I have information you need?”
He’s got me there. Having him stay at the big house has been beneficial, his eyes and ears keenly looking to pick up insight. “Tell me. What have you heard?”
“The brothers know that there’s a witness. Our contact in the police works in another department but he’s heard enough to know that DI Collins had contacted someone.”
“Does DI Collins have any information?”
“No.” he says. “The contact said Collins thinks the witness is under duress because he couldn’t get anything out of them.”
Relief plows through me. So, she wasn’t lying. And she’s not officially done anything that would make her need to disappear for real. I’ll do what I have to do to protect my family but thinking of hurting her makes my stomach grow cold.
“They heard the American girl went back to LA. It’s a small island. They put two and two together and figured she’s the witness. That she didn’t give any information to Collins. Then, she skipped town.”
“What’s the problem then?” I ask. “We keep her till we’re sure she won’t talk, then we pack her up and send her back to California.”
“You don’t think they’ll get suspicious when you’re at the house every day?”
“I’ve got it covered.” I made up some story about a water leak at the house I had to take care of.
“And what about your horses?” he asks.
“I have that covered as well.” I don’t tell him Jonjo is the only one I trust to care for my horses in my absence.
He pushes. “We’ve got the fortnight grill out at noon. Bruce’ll be looking for you. You’ve never missed one. You don’t think suspicions will rise when you don’t show up for steak?”
My mouth waters at the thought of Bruce’s perfectly seasoned T-bones. I’ve got to keep their suspicions at bay. A water leak wouldn’t keep me away from steak.
Eamon’s right. I glance around the house. Can I leave her here alone? No one would dare come onto my property when my truck’s gone. The people here know better than that. And she seems so cozy, I don’t think she’ll be going anywhere soon.
Am I being cocky? Thinking she’ll stay? I’ll have to risk it. “I’ll be there.”
Eamon lets out a breath he must have been holding. “Great. Should be able to buy us another day, you showing your ugly mug.”
“Aye, if you think the gents can stomach looking at this face while they’re eating.”
He gives a belly laugh that makes me smile. “See you at noon.”
As I hang up, I start to wonder if I’ve not wanted to leave her here to keep an eye on her or if I’m starting to like having her in my house.
There was piping hot coffee and a cheese omelet waiting on the counter for me this morning; a bachelor doesn’t overlook that kinda thing, you know what I mean?
I leave her with a warning not to step out of the house or not only will I punish her, but she’ll also lose her freedom to roam around freely and be locked in her bedroom for the remainder of her sentence.
Other than a pretty goodbye waggle of her fingers, she barely acknowledges me, happily curled up on my massive couch, reading one of my mother’s old books I’ve brought down from a paper bag in my attic. She’s got a loaf of bread cooling on the counter and a second pan of cookie dough waiting to go in the oven.
I’m dragging my feet in leaving. Eamon can wait long enough for the first pan of cookies to come out of the oven, can’t he?
The timer goes off. She pops right up off the couch, bookmarking her novel with a scrap she’s ripped off the brown paper bag. I asked her why she doesn’t just fold the corner of her page over and she gave me a look of horror.
Called me a monster.
Funny—I’ve kidnapped the girl, threatened her life, and whipped her ass with my belt but it looks like I’ve reached her breaking point.
Abuse of a dusty old book that’s been rotting in the attic.
I circle the kitchen, inhaling the good smells of freshly baked goodies. She bends over and takes the pan from the oven, looking sexy as hell as she does it, too, even though she’s wearing gray sweats, her hair piled on top of her head in some kind of messy knot.
Sliding the pan on top of the stove, she closes the oven door. Grabs a spatula from the drawer. Turns around, arms crossed over her chest, and stands guard over her cookies.
“What?” I say.
“They have to cool on the pan for three minutes before they go to the cooling rack.”
“Why?”
“When you let them sit on the pan to finish cooking you get soft in the middle, chewy on the outside.” She eyes me, tapping the handle of the spatula against her forearm in a slightly threatening manner.
Three minutes? I stare at the cookies, melted chocolate chunks peeking out of their tops. I know better than to mess with a woman when she’s in her kitchen. Eamon can wait.
An hour and two delicious cookies later, soft on the inside, crispy on the edges as promised, I’m pulling up to the Castle, brushing crumbs from my trousers as I climb out of the truck.
This Kings Castle, otherwise known as the Bayne-Burnes house, is a collaborative effort of our two families. For the past decade, we men have taken to restoring this abandoned Gothic cathedral to be our headquarters. Our mafia is the Kings, as we are the ones who rule this island.
With the help of the professor, I obtained a grant from the historical society to help renovate it for our purposes. The younger boys apprentice with the older men who know the craft, while their brothers fish and farm for the earnings. Eamon’s soon to become a master carpenter, having been put to work at fifteen.
When we’re done, yeah, we’ll have to offer tours to outsiders as per the agreement the professor made to get the grant, but ten years later and we’ve got a meeting room, kitchen, and bedrooms. Bathrooms are next. Unfortunately for the men staying here, they’re still using the port-a-johns out back. It was the best way to keep the tourists at bay longer.
Our other forms of income?
Let’s just say some of our lines of earnings are not exactly professor-approved. We are an island. We use the water to our advantage. We have a successful underground “business” running arms up and down the coasts of Scotland, Ireland, and England.
Oftentimes arms are smuggled in coolers, topped with ice and locally caught haddock or bass. I keep Eamon and the younger ones like Jonjo away from the smuggling, choosing to train and employ them as carpenters, electricians, and plumbers. The Castle is not only their home but their workplace as well.
Eamon greets me outside, slapping his palm into mine.
“Glad you made it.” He’s got a twinkle in his eye, lit by the drama of our situation. He glances over his shoulder up at the house. “I don’t think anyone’s onto us.”
“If you keep carrying on like this, you’re gonna raise suspicions just walking around. Quit looking over your shoulder all nervous-like.” I throw a heavy arm over his shoulder, guiding us up to the house. I can smell the steak. “Come on. My stomach is rumbling.”
We bypass the house, going straight for the backyard. The green grass has been freshly cut, the scent lingering in the chilly breeze. Worn-in aluminum-framed lawn chairs dot the yard. Bruce’s manning the grill in a black apron that says KISS THE COOK, his dusty red baseball cap on backward, flipping a juicy T-bone with the long-pronged grilling fork he holds. He gives me a wave. “Ten minutes till chow, boss!”
Cal, current head of our once rival family, approaches me. He’s called a Burnes to my Bayne, as he’s a Callum to my Cailean. Confusing, especially when both names can be shortened to Cal.
The eldest of my clan, people took to calling me Bayne when my dad passed anyway. It stuck and I’m grateful for that ‘cause now it works well. He’s Callum and I’m Bayne and no one gets our names crossed.
I’m greeted with handshakes, slaps on the back, and general boys-will-be-boys shit talk, mostly about how I haven’t had a woman in so long.
“You ain’t had a woman in so long,” Callum rubs a hand down his long, Viking beard, a devilish look flashing in his bright green eyes. “You’re practically a born-again virgin.”
“You like your teeth?” I ask him over the laugh of the rowdy crowd.
He flashes the shiny white teeth we all know he’s so proud of. “Hell, yes I like my teeth.”
“Then that’ll be the last time you call me a virgin,” I say. “If you want to keep them.”
The group breaks out in good-natured laughs. All here know that for now, the Baynes and the Burneses have called a truce, made a pact, and sworn our allegiance to one another. Collectively, we are the Kings. And though we may fear we’re one good fistfight away from potentially breaking our bond, fragile in its decade-old newness, right now we are one loyal unit.
We eat steak, the meat melting like butter in our mouths. We wash it down with cans of icy beer Eamon’s stashed in coolers. He prefers it cold. We’re packing it up to take everything inside, making me think I’m in the clear, when Burnes pulls me to the side, a fresh beer for each of us in his hands.
He takes a long drag of his beer, looking out over the hill before he speaks. “I’ve got to ask you a question.”
Word moves fast on the island. Spiders crawl up the base of my spine. I know what’s he’s going to ask before he even opens his mouth back up again. “Go on then,” I say.
“Tell me.” His light brow narrows as he studies my face, a calculating intelligence behind his piercing green irises. “Have you heard anything about this witness? The American girl from LA?”
“Aye.” I wet my dry mouth with a sip of cold beer. “I’ve heard rumors.”
“What have you heard?”
“What have you heard?”
He sharpens his gaze. “I heard that you’re not as close to a born-again virgin as we thought.”
“I thought I told you not to say that if you want to keep your teeth.”
He flashes his white smile at me. “So you did.” He lowers his voice, moving a step closer to me. “We all know we were unlucky that night. That there was one set of curious eyes out there in the fields. And they belong to the girl. Now, if you know where she is, you need to let us Burnes know. We can’t risk keeping a witness around. You get what I’m saying?”
I don’t meet his eye. “I hear you.”
“Good.” He slaps a hand on the back of my shoulder. “I’m glad we see eye to eye. It’s been nice, us not being rivals anymore. The Burneses and Baynes have proven we can get more accomplished working together than at one another’s throats.”
It’s not lost on me he puts his surname before mine.
“Aye, Kings forever,” I agree. For now.
We shake hands, our rough, work-worn skin confirming the shaky pact us younger generations hope to continue and solidify.
Eamon finds me as I’m leaving, again looking guilty as hell as he glances nervously over his shoulder. “Alright?”
“It was before you came out. Won’t the boys find it suspicious, you out here talking to me?” The tease is lost on him. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his shirt.
“Nah. They know I’m coming out to have a smoke. Besides, I always say goodbye to my big brother.”
“You holding up okay here?” I ask, watching with disapproval as he lights his cigarette. I don’t say a thing. I remember being his age and as soon as someone told me not to do something, I did it twice as much.
He takes a long drag. On his exhale, blue smoke swirls through the air. “Yeah. Been having a laugh with the boys. Drinking more beer than I probably should.”
“That’ll stop when you move back home, same as the smoking.” I say. “We’ll be back to our nightly workouts in the garage. Can’t let you lose your womanly figure.”
“Speaking of figures, how long do you think we have till we’ve got to make a move with Kitt?”
“Callum is on to me,” I say. “Told me as much.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah. I bought us some time. A few days, maybe. But we’re going to have to come clean with the gang if we’re going to keep her.”
Eamon gives me a hard stare. “You mean we’re going to have to come clean with the Kings, then.”
“You’re not the one who has to live with her,” I say, thinking of the cookies that are waiting for me at home.
He gazes out over the hills. “She can’t be all bad.”
“Speaking of the wee devil, I’ve got to get back. Make sure our pretty little captive is still there.”
“I’m sure she stayed put. Nowhere to go out here. Unless she thinks she’s going to ride a sheep off into the night.”
I almost laugh, picturing Kitt, her black boots, dark hair hanging down her back, a fluffy sheep underneath her, meandering down the road, making her getaway.
It’s almost five by the time I get home. She’s had a full day to herself. I picture her walking around my place admiring the architecture, her face lit up like it was when she first saw it. A wee bit of excitement rises in my chest. I’m almost looking forward to seeing her.
The front door is locked as I left it. I step into the foyer, calling her name. “Kitty Cat Catherine. I’m back.”
I don’t know what I’m expecting for her reply, but I get nothing back.
”Kitt?” The kitchen’s been left neat and tidy, cookies stowed away, her wooden countertops spotless and gleaming.
I mean—mine. Ones I cut, laid, and epoxied myself. This innae her house and she’s not in charge of that kitchen. I can’t let her take an ounce of control, she’d walk all over me.
Except—maybe—when cookies are involved. I may be a monster but I’m not a dimwit. Don’t spank the woman when she’s feeding you.
I search the rest of the house, expecting to find her curled up like her Kitty Cat self in one of the rooms. My heart beats harder with each uninhabited space.
Where the fuck is she.
“Kitt! Get your ass out here. NOW!”
It’s so quiet I can hear the wind blowing against the windows.
“I’m warnin’ ya!”
Nothing.
My thumping heart now lurches into my throat, choking me. Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I step outside, leaving the door open. A door that was still locked when I arrived home. I look out over my land, the rolling hills that dip down to a soft, sandy shore, the sea lapping its edges. It’s beautiful out here.
Remote.
Instantly, I fell in love with the land, picturing the house I had in my mind located here, which had me handing over the cash to buy. There are acres upon acres here, plenty of room for me to bring my horses over from the green fields of the Castle if I’m ever home enough hours to care for them.
Right now, I hate the vast horizon I look over because it means I may have lost her. It was foolish to leave her here alone. I should have soldered iron bars over the windows. Strung up cameras though there’s no internet out here to service them with if you need that type of thing to run them.
I stare out over the hills and valleys, looking the direction toward town. Surely, she’s got enough gut instinct to head that way. I take off running over the hills, guessing there’s no use in taking the truck. She’d be too visible on the road. She knows that well by now.
The grasses are lush this time of year, leaving tracks behind where the deer run. I look for any sign someone’s been this way on foot.
I run myself ragged, calling her name.
It’s no use. I’ve been looking for hours. She’s long gone.
Hands on my knees, I double over, catching my breath. My only thought right now is to go back to the house and call Eamon. If he can’t help me find her then I’ll have to come clean with the boys sooner than I wanted.
It’ll be an all-out manhunt with every Bayne and Burnes boy looking for her.
And when they find her…
A shudder tears through me to think of what one of the men may do to her if they find her before me. She’s not my woman, has no protection under me. She’s just an unlucky American girl that witnessed a crime we can’t allow her to pin on us.
My stomach is sick, nausea roiling in my belly. I hate myself for going so soft for this girl. I shouldn’t care what happens to her.
Eamon will understand. He’ll back me up. We’ll just have to find her, us two brothers, that’s the way it’ll have to be.
Because I can’t stomach the alternative.