Chapter Twenty-Seven
In which Luna is introduced to Car Chase 101.
Kai…
The final bill for the Hope House shopping spree is still less than the fifteen thousand pounds I’d spent on Luna’s evening gown. Pulling the balance in cash from my money clip, I hand it to Ada Burns, who looks shocked at the wad of pounds.
“No, Mr. MacTavish, we dinna expect this.”
Stuffing it in her bag, I shake my head. “I had a deal with my bride. Fifteen thousand pounds. I’ll have one of my guards accompany ya back to the shelter to make sure there’s no trouble.” Looking at Luna, who’s burdened with a toddler on her back, another tucked under her arm, and yet another clinging to her leg, I add, “I suspect we’ll be visiting Hope House again soon. She’s taken a liking to your bairns.”
Ada nods regally, though there’s a tell-tale moisture in her eyes. “This has been a grand afternoon. The littles will be talking about this for weeks.”
“They deserve it,” I agree. “As do their parents.”
When the bairns are called over to the shuttle that brought them here, Ainsley makes a detour to throw herself into my arms. “I know ya are married to Mrs. MacTavish, but I will wait for ya, just in case ya change your mind. Or if she dies, bein’ so old and all.”
“Thank ya, sweetheart, I’m honored, of course,” I say gravely. “But I’m very fond of my bride.”
Glancing up, I see Luna staring at me with a little frown, as if trying to understand what angle I’m playing here.
“Ya know, in some ways, your upbringing was similar to mine,” I say, taking her hand and heading for the Range Rover.
“Really…” So much disbelief and defensiveness in a single word.
“Aye. Ya learned that the world is not what you were taught it was. Ya know how to look past people’s words to find their real intent. Survival skills? You’ve been taking care of yourself since ya were twelve. Ya armor up every day like you’re going to war.”
“And these are all crucial life skills embraced by the mafia?”
Luna lets me lift her onto her seat. I keep a hand by her hip, leaning my arm against the car roof, blocking her in. Her mouth is set in a firm line, like she’s not lettin’ any unseemly vulnerability leak out.
“You’d be surprised,” I admit.
“Boss? Did ya want to drive?” Ian’s standing behind us looking politely confused, and I realize I put Luna in the front seat.
“Aye. Ride in the chase car with the other men.”
Ian nods, waiting for me to get in the Range Rover too, before heading back to the other SUV.
“What? Kai MacTavish, driving his own car? Like a commoner?” Luna thinks she’s hilarious.
“I do drive on occasion, ya Bessie. If Ian’s in the car, I canna do this…” She’s helpfully wearing a sundress and I put my hand on her thigh, pushing the fabric up as I move closer to her pussy. My bride isn't stopping me, though she does look a little shocked.
“What do you think you’re doing?” It’s less aggressive and more anticipatory, but I dinna know if she notices that.
“I have my hand on your thigh, baby. I’m going to yank your knickers to the side and shove two or three of my fingers in you because you are fecking tempting, and I’m having trouble concentrating on anything else.”
My fingers reach the wet fabric of the last thing between me and my bride’s pussy. She glances anxiously out the window and in the back seat like she’s expecting a photographer to be hiding there.
“This is too public,” she gulps, “someone could be right next to us at a traffic light and they’d see your fingers and my face and probably hear me.”
I focus on the road as I slide my finger slowly up the silky path between her lips, which are already getting wet for me, circling her clit without touching it.
Luna’s eyes flutter shut as her hips come up, trying to push my finger where she wants it. I pull it out and slap her on the pussy, three times, hard enough to sting. Her knickers are silk, thin, and wet, so I dinna think they provided any protection. Her knees slam shut as she yelps.
“Wh- what the hell was that?” The pupils in her pretty blue eyes are expanding, and I doubt she’s aware of the pink flush rising on her pale skin. “You slapped me!”
“No, I spanked your pussy,” I correct her. “When I’m playing, ya must be a good lass and hold still for me. Do ya wanna try this again?”
Oh, the dilemma. She’s irritably chewing her lips because she dinna want to say the words; it would mean giving in.
Not that it wouldn’t be a good thing every now and then. Not everything has to be a fight, but I suspect my bride hasn’t learned that yet.
She sounds like she’s gargling with gravel. “Yes. Please.”
My hand’s sliding back up her thigh when there’s a tremendous crash behind us, metal crumpling, glass shattering, and the surprised screams of bystanders. A huge truck slammed into the SUV carrying my guards, the front is nearly buried under the truck’s bumper.
“Oh my god,” Luna gasps. “Stop! We have to go back! Was that idiot trucker trying to kill them? Who drives like-”
The guards are already piling out of the crumpled mass of metal. Freddie the driver is getting dragged behind another car, and everyone else looks a little bloody but okay. Ian waves at me, pulls out his gun, and fires into the truck. Slamming on the gas, I barely miss another truck barreling toward us as I race down the street.
“What are you doing?” Luna says, twisting in her seat to keep watching out the back window. “Why are you leaving them? Ian waved for you to stop!”
“No lass, he was telling me to go. The guards canna protect you.”
“From wh-”
The rest of her sentence is cut off when the truck chasing us catches up, primarily because I’m driving to keep from killing pedestrians, and he isn’t. He smashes into my back bumper, sending us surging forward. I yank the steering wheel to the left, jumping over a curb and across a bare stretch of sidewalk to get us onto a quieter street.
“Put your head down.” I dinna give her time to process it, grabbing a handful of her hair and pushing her head to her knees. Glass shatters as the back window blows out, and I take another sharp right turn. “Luna, I need you to listen to me. Open the glovebox. There is a red button in the center at the top. Push it.”
She’s on it, yanking the glovebox open and stabbing the button. “Is this like the bat signal? Do the other villainous superheroes show up?”
“You’re being remarkably calm for someone in this situation,” I say approvingly, “and aye, the beacon helps our security track the car.” We both duck as another bullet rips through the car, embedding itself in the back of my seat.
“I’m not calm,” she says, “I’m in shock.”
Taking another turn, we’re on the M74 motorway with only a few cars meandering along.
Pulling my Glock out from under my jacket, I say, “Put your hands on the steering wheel. It is very important that you keep the car straight so I can shoot. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
Her fingers tighten on the wheel as I shift in my seat, sighting down the barrel at the truck. Its front bumper is dragging after colliding with us, sending off sparks on the roadway, and the grill is busted.
“Though I find it interesting that you go back to the snotty British accent that you used when you were undercover and things got dire.” My bride’s voice shakes just slightly, but her grip on the wheel is strong.
“Chasing you through the forest was the highlight of that bloody assignment, I assure you.” Shite, she’s right. I am talking blue blood again.
Narrowing my gaze, I shoot through the truck’s radiator, enjoying the instant geyser of steam shooting out of the twisted metal. The Range Rover sways slightly as Luna maneuvers us around a slow-moving car. I catch a glimpse of the driver’s shocked face as we pass him and he indignantly lays on the horn. The fecking truck sideswipes him, and the sedan goes into a spin, ending up in the grassy median.
The dashboard lights up as Logan’s voice comes out of the speakers. “How many?”
Luna jumps a little but hangs onto the steering wheel.
“One truck,” I say. “I put a bullet through the radiator, but it must be reinforced.”
I shoot out the windshield, and one of their men kicks it loose, leaning forward and trying to get a better shot. My next shot goes wide as Luna passes another car, but the next one gets him in the chest. The truck’s slowing down, which means the driver’s likely the only one left and dinna appreciate these odds.
“We’re five minutes to your location,” Logan says. “You’re comin’ up on an exit, aye? Georges is trying to disable the traffic light to keep it green for ya.”
“Shit shit shit shit shit!” Luna dinna sound quite as composed now. “Two cars! Are you seeing them?”
My driver’s side window shatters as a piece of glass hits Luna’s cheekbone, leaving a streak of red, and now I’m fecking angry. The car pacing me has a sloppy driver, he’s not keeping steady enough for the arsehole in the passenger seat to take his shot.
Fortunately, I have my bride, whose death grip on the steering wheel is straight and true, and I pull the trigger, taking out the shooter and making their car swerve. The Range Rover rocks violently as the second car just behind us sprays the passenger side with ammunition; the deafening ‘thud!’ of bullets embedding themselves in metal makes my ears ring.
Those bastards are shooting at Luna.
“Fecking machine gun. Baby, I’m counting down. When I say one, I’m gonna slam on the brakes. Keep your seatbelt on.”
“Yeah, okay.” She’s gritting her teeth.
Because I’m a sick bastard and why not be chatty when you’re in a gunfight, I say, “I was hard as fuck when I was chasing you through the woods. You were so angry and determined. I sprouted a stonner when you called Deacon a little bitch.”
Her eyes never leave the road. “Are you serious? You got turned on by chasing me?”
“Fuck yes,” I say fervently, reloading my Glock.
“Really?” Logan interrupts.
“What the- you actually- that’s so wrong.” She frowns, shaking her head. “It’s also kind of… Is that hot? It’s hot. I don’t mean anything I say right now because you’re firing a gun like this is Scarface and I’m in shock!”
“Take a deep breath, Luna,” Logan advises. “Kai’s one of the best shooters in the clan. So, I never heard about this chase. Were ya naked?”
“Shut the fuck up unless it’s related to this specific situation!” I shout at the dashboard, and my eejit brother chuckles.
“You ready, little fox? I’m counting down.” I land another bullet in the car chasing us on the passenger side. A huge spurt of blood sprays across the glass, so I know I hit someone.
“Three…
Two…
One!”
Hitting the brakes, I help Luna hold the wheel steady as the two cars shoot past us, and then I let loose, spraying both cars with every bullet I have. The tyres blow out on car one, sending it airborne in an oddly graceful arc, landing upside down. Car two’s doors open, and four men pour out, shooting wildly and not landing a single bullet.
A drone streaks over, dropping something on the shooters that sparks and with a bright flash, explodes, sending screaming, burning men flying in every direction.
“The cavalry’s almost here,” I say, not taking my eyes off the shooters. “Stay in the car. Do you understand?”
“Calvary’s here. Stay in the car.” The little quiver is back in her voice as she unpeels her fingers from the white-knuckled grip she’d had on the steering wheel.
Striding over to their burning car, I grab the last man standing by the throat, slamming him against a road sign. “Who sent ya, motherfucker?”
“Fuck you.” Blood’s bubbling between his teeth, and I dinna know if he’ll last.
I shoot him in the knee, smiling at his scream. “Who sent ya?”
He tries to spit on me, and I angle my shoulder to avoid the blood as I shoot his other knee, holding him up with my grip on his throat. “This can take a very long time,” I warn him, tapping his bloody cheek with my Glock. “I’ll draw out your miserable life long after ya beg me to kill ya.”
“Anything from this arsehole?” Michael’s just behind me, gun smoking.
“Was there really anyone left to shoot after that drone strike?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the poor bastard writhing in agony.
“Double tap,” Michael says, “ya never go stingy with the bullets.”
Letting the shooter drop to the roadway, I holster my gun. “Take him back to the warehouse, keep him alive.” I lean in, speaking into Michael’s earpiece. “Georges, make your snooping arse useful and wipe the traffic cameras.”
Luna’s sitting right where I put her, and she’s laughing. Laughing hard enough that it’s devolving into wheezing.
“Baby, are ya hurt? Where?” I’m running my hands over her arms, her face, and she finally grabs my hands and holds them still.
“I’m okay. I was just thinking…” She hiccups out another laugh. “I was just thinking about little Miss Ainsely this afternoon and how she told you that she’d be available to marry you because I’m, and I quote, old and I’ll probably die soon. This is a little quicker than I would expect, but maybe the kid has a voodoo doll or something.”
Even with the cut on her cheekbone and the half-crazed hilarity in her eyes, my Luna is beautiful.
I’ve never wanted to fuck her more.
Ya Bessie - Scottish slang for an ill-tempered or rude woman