Chapter Fourteen
Rafe
Iona's brows wrinkle, and she searches my gaze as if she hopes to find illumination there. I have nothing of the sort, not yet. But I intend to get some right now. I leap forward, barreling toward the tree with no concern for who or what might be hiding behind it. Someone is there. I know it. The figure behind the tree, whom I had glimpsed briefly as a sliver of a shadow, must be Iona's mystery man. What he wants with her, I can't say---not yet. But I will wring the truth out of that tosser one way or another.
Iona only follows my command briefly, then races after me.
At least she isn't trying to outpace me.
But I forget all about that when a figure bursts out from behind the tree, sprinting toward the fence line of Iona's neighbor's cow pasture. The prat sprints at a speed that I would label as impressive if he hadn't been stalking Iona. Harassing a woman is beyond the pale. I catch up to the bloke just as he tries to vault over the fence. The git can't quite make it, though, and he gets tangled up in the woven wire. His thrashing results in him bouncing backward onto the ground. He did a fair amount of cursing too.
As I skid to a halt, breathing hard, I snag the back of the man's jacket. I plant one foot on his chest, and he struggles for a few seconds. Then the tosser gives up and glowers at me.
Since I still have the shinty stick---the caman , as Iona called it---I thump it on my palm three times. "Who are you? And what are you doing mucking about on this property?"
He lifts his chin. "I got lost."
At least now I know Iona was right about this man. He is British. I snort with derision. "Try again. The truth this time."
The prat puckers his mouth. I assume he thinks that's a defiant expression, but it looks more like something a spoiled child refusing to eat his greens might do.
Iona comes up beside me, staring down at our new friend with a genuinely defiant expression. "Who is giving you orders?"
The prat thrashes, but he still can't get away.
"Tell us what we want to know," I snarl. "You have five seconds to confess, or else we'll ring the coppers. The Loch Fairbairn jail is hideous. You'll be eaten alive by cockroaches and starving rats."
Iona's lips tick up the faintest bit, though I doubt our new mate noticed that.
The git bares his teeth. "You lot will never break me."
"Your mission is that vital?" Iona asks. "Tell us what you want before I sic my boyfriend on you."
Boyfriend? I'm a bit old for that designation. Besides, we haven't discussed what sort of relationship we might actually have. It's beside the point right now.
Enough of this rubbish. I swing the shinty stick up above my head, then swing it back down, aiming straight for the bastard's chest.
"All right, all right, stop!" the tosser shrieks, and I halt the stick inches away from his rib cage. "What do you want to know?"
I set the bottom of the stick on the ground, keeping my hand draped over the top. "You are going to grass on your mate, whoever that person is, if you want to walk away with all your limbs intact." I glance down at his groin. "And I do mean all your limbs."
"Look, it wasn't my idea. The Scot is a prick, and I only took the job for the money."
"His name. Now."
Just as the prat is opening his mouth, someone shouts at us.
"Are ye having a picnic over there, Iona? I could bring potato salad."
Iona's eyes widen, but she recovers from her surprise quickly. "No, Raghnall, it's nothing like that. Go back to your house."
Raghnall stops just on the other side of the fence and scans the three of us. His brows hike up. "What's going on here?"
"Nothing," Iona says. "Go back into your house, Raghnall."
She emphasized those words, clearly trying to convince the old man to walk away.
Our prisoner thrusts one leg up, neatly kneeing me in the groin. Just as I gasp and glare at the tosser, he rolls away from me sideways. Iona tries to catch him, but the bastard is too bloody quick. By the time I recover from the pain of that groin kick, the git is racing past Iona's house. He veers left, out of sight.
I take off after him. Iona follows.
Raghnall shouts, "I'm ringing the police!"
That won't do any good unless we can catch the git.
But as I round the corner of Iona's house, making a beeline across the yard, I realize we've lost our prisoner. I stop and try to catch my breath. Iona grasps my arm, struggling to speak but too breathless to manage it.
I wrap my arm around her. "He's gone."
" Mhac na galla ."
"You need to teach me Gaelic, so I'll understand all your curse words."
"Later."
Raghnall emerges from his house, trotting down the porch steps. "The constables are on their way."
We've lost the intruder, so there's no point in calling in the coppers. But I'm still too out of breath to say so.
Raghnall strides over to us. "Dinnae know why, but Fergus asked what Rafe Knight was doing now, and should he bring a Taser this time." The old gent's brows knit together. "Why would he say such a thing?"
"This is Rafe Knight," Iona tells Raghnall. "And what Fergus told you was just a misunderstanding. A sort of joke. You can go back into your house. Rafe and I will handle the constables. Everything is all right."
Raghnall nods and trots back to his home.
Iona and I sit on the porch steps while we await the arrival of the constables. She rests her head on my shoulder. I keep my arm around her. I've known this woman for a few days, yet I already feel protective of her. After my atrocious behavior on the day we met, I wouldn't have expected Iona to...like me.
The constables arrive ten minutes later with lights and sirens blazing.
But they aren't our only visitors. Another vehicle roars up the street, screeching to a halt just behind the parked constable's car. Both doors of the vehicle spring open.
Oh, bloody hell . Of course those two are here. I'm too knackered to deal with them, but they won't give a toss about that.
Ramsay and Thane march up the concrete path, reaching the porch steps only a matter of seconds behind the constables.
Fergus holds up a hand. "Thane, Ramsay, keep your mouths shut while we question the witnesses."
"Raghnall saw some of what happened," Iona tells the constable. "But Rafe and I are the real eyewitnesses."
"She overheard some bloke in the café talking on his mobile," I explain. "He was discussing some sort of job he was being paid to do. It turns out the job involved spying on Iona."
"Aye," she says. "And a wee bit earlier today, I saw that same man on the street and followed him, from a discreet distance. After a while, he stopped and called for a taxi. The address he gave was for my house."
Fergus taps his pen on his little notebook. "He must not have recognized you, aye?"
"Well, as I said, I maintained a discreet distance from the bod ceann . When I stopped closer to him, I dropped my purse as an excuse to bend over. My hair shielded my face."
"I see. Did he knock on the door?"
"Of course he didn't bloody knock on the door," I growl. "He was here to spy on Iona."
She lays a hand on my knee. "Relax, Rafe. He's only doing his job."
Just the touch of her hand eases my temper. I still don't understand why, but perhaps it's only that innate mothering instinct women have even when they don't have children. Does Iona have any sons or daughters? I never bothered to ask her.
Fergus now squints at me. "You're the hair-trigger sort, aye? Dinnae like Iona taking up with a man like that."
"I'm sorry for lashing out. It's not something I can control."
"Are ye claiming mental illness?"
"No. But I have old injuries that can cause..." I don't care to explain, and I fear I'll get angry again if I can't tamp down the instinct. "It's personal."
Iona takes hold of both my hands. "Rafe has told me all about his issues. He is not the one you need to be interrogating. Go find the British cacan who invaded my homestead."
"We will do that." Fergus looks to Thane and Ramsay. "If you two will stay with Iona and her new friend, Sorley and I can go after the intruder."
I slap my hand down on my thigh. "Stop talking and get your arses in motion. The intruder is moving further away by the second."
"Aye, we will do that. Straight away."
While the constables head for their vehicle, Thane and Ramsay glare at me. I'm about to tell them to bugger off, but I don't get the chance.
"Shoo, both of you," Iona says while flapping her hands at them. "Dinnae need my brothers breathing down my neck. You'll be more useful if you go with Fergus and Sorley."
Thane glances at me, then his sister. "If you're sure this one won't assault you..."
"Rafe has never done any such thing. He shouts occasionally, but that's all."
"And ye won't explain why you accept that from him."
"Later, Thane. Hunt the villain now."
Her brothers exchange glances and shrugs. Then they turn and walk away. Once they've climbed into their pickup truck, they follow the coppers down the road.
Iona rests her head on my shoulder.
For a moment, I simply gaze at her face. Her sweet expression gives me a strange feeling in my chest. "Do you honestly trust me?"
She tilts her head back to look at me. "Aye, Rafe, I trust you."
"Why? I've behaved like a bloody stupid arse ever since the moment we met."
"That's the key phrase---'behaved like.' You've told me about the long-term aftereffects of your lightning strike. Now that I know why you act the way you do, I cannae stay mad at you."
I search her gaze for some sign that she fully understands my problems. "Why would you want to get involved with a man who flies off the handle during stressful moments?"
"You did not fly off any handle today. I was impressed with how calmly you handled the intruder situation." She places a hand over my groin. "And the way you treated that bod ceann made me so randy."
Her statement makes me randy. I can feel blood rushing into my groin. "You undoubtedly feel that way only because of adrenaline. Once that high fades, you might wish we hadn't shagged."
Iona flattens her lips and blows a breath out through her nostrils. "For pity's sake, Rafe. I'm a grown woman, a journalist, and a mother. Dinnae treat me like I'm a silly schoolgirl. I want you to fuck me. Immediately. Are you interested or not?"
"What a ridiculous question." I surge to my feet while cradling Iona in my arms. "If you open the door, I'll kick it shut. Then we can shag wherever you like---the sofa, the floor, anywhere."
"Hurry up, then."
I stalk up to the door and wait while she opens it. Then I slam it shut with one boot, never pausing, and stalk into the living room. While I keep Iona in my arms, I survey the house. "Where are the bedroom and bathroom?"
"Down that short hallway. It ends at the door to the master suite."
"Are there any other rooms?"
"Aye, two others that used to be the children's bedrooms."
The open kitchen has possibilities, and the fluffy rug in the living room also looks intriguing.
" Bod an Donais , Rafe, hurry up."
"Yes, milady, I shall." But once again, I can't think straight. It's not my temper flaring up again. No, lust has taken hold so fiercely that my mind is a muddle. "Perhaps you should choose the location."
She bites her lower lip while her brows furrow. Then she grins. "The sauna."
"What? You didn't mention that in your inventory of rooms."
"I forgot about it. My family likes to use the sauna once in a wee while, but I rarely do. It feels odd to soak in there alone."
As I imagine fucking her in that sauna, I realize there's a problem. "Something like that takes time to start up."
"Only ten to fifteen minutes." She takes my earlobe into her mouth and suckles it, making me gasp. "I'm sure you can think of a way to keep us aroused for that long."
Extended teasing and almost orgasms before the main event...Yes, I could go for that. "You've won me over. Playtime before the sauna."