Chapter 23 Lachlan #2
Truly concerned, I tried the doorknob and was relieved and annoyed in equal measure when it opened.
Arro lived alone. Her doors should always be locked.
Yes, we resided in one of the safest villages in Scotland, but (1) she was an Adair, and (2) I had a stalker after me willing to try to hurt—or kill—those I loved.
Once I’d given her a rollicking for worrying me, I’d lecture her about locking her doors.
“Arro!” I called as I moved through the kitchen. “It’s Lachlan!”
I heard a shuffling and followed the sound out of the kitchen toward the bedrooms at the back. “Arro!”
“I’m here.” Her voice was muffled through her bedroom door. “I’m sick. I don’t want to infect anyone.”
Frowning at the obvious lie, I stopped at her door and tapped my knuckles lightly against it. “Arro, what’s going on, sweetheart? I’m worried.”
“I told you. I’m not well. Flu.”
“Flu? You told Marcello it was food poisoning. What’s going on? Why are you hiding and not answering your phone?”
There was silence on the other side of the door. Then … “If I come out … you have to promise you won’t fly off the handle. That you won’t do anything stupid.”
“Arro,” I said, a warning in my voice.
“Promise me, Lachlan.”
“I promise,” I bit out.
Yet, when she stepped out of her bedroom, it was hard to remember the promise over the roaring in my ears.
“What the goddamn fuck?” My words were low but rough with fury.
My sister, my precious, wouldn’t-hurt-a-bloody-fly, wee sister was sporting a black eye, bruised cheekbone, and a cut lip.
Someone is going to die today.
At my expression, Arrochar’s eyes widened, and she held up her hands as if to placate me. “Calm down, Lachlan. Please.”
“Not until you tell me what I’m looking at.”
“First, you have to know this has never happened before.” Her voice trembled, and I could see she struggled not to cry. “This is the first time, and I broke up with him. I promise.”
I stumbled back from her, my rage building. “Guy did this?”
That fucker was over.
Storming toward the front door, I felt a tug on my arm and whirled to shake off my sister when the sight of her flinching back, afraid, put out my surface anger like a bucket of ice water.
Emotion thickened in my throat as I took in Arro’s battered face. “I would never hurt you.”
Tears brightened her eyes. “God, I know that. But please calm down. Please.”
Struggling to slow my breathing as my heart thundered in my chest, I attempted to, for her sake. I held out my hand to her like she was a frightened animal.
Arro walked into me, burrowing against me in a way she hadn’t since she was a wee girl.
I felt a burning in my eyes as I embraced her, knowing I probably held her too tight but was unable to loosen my arms. Someone had beaten my sister, and not only had I not been there to protect her but I’d had a civil conversation with the bastard that very morning.
Yesterday I’d been screwing around with Robyn, and my sister was holed up in her house.
Scared.
And beaten.
“Tell me what happened,” I whispered against her hair.
Arrochar eased away from me, eyes lowered to the ground as she motioned to the kitchen.
I tried to be patient as she forced me to wait until I’d made a fresh pot of coffee.
“It was after the ceilidh,” she finally divulged as she sat down with me at the dining table. “He seemed fine at the Gloaming. Drunk, but fine. But he was quiet on the walk back to my place. Then it all just came at me as soon as we stepped in the house.”
“What did?” I tried not to imagine it. My sister alone with that bastard, no clue what was about to happen. That there was no one there to protect her.
Arro licked her lips nervously and stared past me out the window.
“Apparently, I spent all night flirting with Mac, which is ridiculous. It’s Mac, for goodness’ sake.
Guy has gotten it into his head there’s something going on between us.
Can you believe that? He started yelling about my behavior when Mac was attacked.
I told him he was wrong. It’s Mac. He’s …
he’s … family. And I’d never cheat.” Now she looked at me.
Right in the eye. “I’d never cheat, Lachlan. ”
I knew she wouldn’t.
Disloyalty wasn’t in the Adair blood. “I know, sweetheart.”
Anger flooded her features. “I called him an arsehole and he pushed me into the wall. I lost my temper and pushed him back and told him to get out and never call me again. Then all this rubbish started pouring out of him, how I always made him feel like an outsider, like he wasn’t good enough, that I thought I was better than him, that I was an untouchable Adair.
” She blinked back tears. “I don’t even know what that means.
It was like listening to a petty little boy on the school playground trying to tear me down because he was jealous of me.
Ridiculous and immature. My reaction wasn’t very nice.
I laughed at him and said he was pathetic … and that was the wrong thing to do.”
I studied her face, hot blood causing a haze in my mind that I was trying very hard to beat back. “He hit you.”
She pressed a tentative finger to her cheek.
“Blindsided me. Hit me so hard, it took me down, and then he climbed on me to hit me a couple more times.
He only got the other two hits in because the first had shocked me, dazed me.
But I got my faculties together, spotted the paperweight on the table, and managed to shove him off me long enough to grab it.
When he came at me, I cracked him over the head with it.
“The drink, the hit, it knocked him out but only for seconds. When he came to, it was like he was a different person. Like he couldn’t believe what he’d done. He tried to plead with me, told me he loved me”—she guffawed angrily—“but I told him to get out or I would call the police.”
“You should have called the police,” I said, trying not to raise my voice.
“I was ashamed.” Her face crumpled and she sobbed, cries that tore through my gut.
Getting out of my chair, I pulled my sister up and held her while she cried, reassuring her she had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to worry about, that I’d take care of everything.
When I finally felt her cries slow and her body relax, I eased her into her chair and set about making her a cup of the chamomile tea she liked.
“Sorry.” She smiled wearily at me. “For crying like that. I just … I feel stupid. That I didn’t see he had that in him. I should have.”
“Don’t do that to yourself. People have a way of hiding their true selves.”
“Still. I’m sorry.”
“You never have to say sorry.” I brought the hot mug over to her. As she took it in both hands, I said, “You do have to report this to the police, though.”
“Oh, Lachlan, no.” Her denial was instant. “Every time we go to the police with something, we open up the chance of the press finding out. That’s the last thing the club needs right now.”
“Fuck the club,” I bit out. “What if he does this to someone else?”
“Don’t put that on me.” Her lips quivered. “Don’t make me feel bad for not wanting anyone to know about this.”
“Well, I can’t let him get away with it.”
“Lachlan—”
I held up a hand to cut her off. If I couldn’t have the bastard arrested, I’d dole out my own form of justice. “I’m firing him and making it clear he needs to leave the Highlands. Preferably on a plane back to Australia.”
Arrochar nodded. “That works for me.”
Her bruising was starting to yellow, meaning it was healing. I reached out to caress her cheekbone. “I’ll let everyone know you have a flu bug and that I’m taking care of you. Everyone except Thane.”
“Och, Lachlan—”
“I’m not keeping this from him.”
Her brows furrowed with fierceness. “You’re a pain in my arse. And if you even think about telling Mac—”
“I won’t,” I interrupted her again. “Mac would lose his goddamn mind and try to kill Guy, and while that might be fun to watch, Mac’s not completely over his injuries.”
Relaxing, she sank into her chair. “What are you going to do about a chef?”
I shrugged. “That’s not anything you need to worry about. For now, I just want you to take it easy. I need to see to Guy, and then I’ll be back tonight with a takeaway. What do you fancy?”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s not for you, it’s for me.” And I wasn’t lying. I needed to be with her. Make sure she definitely was all right.
Arro gave me a soft, loving look. “Thank you for keeping your cool for me. It means a lot. And for firing him.”
“I’d do anything for you, sweetheart.”
Her eyes brightened with fresh tears, and she slapped playfully at my arm. “Go, before you have me blubbering again.”
I nodded but didn’t make a move. Instead, I suggested, “Perhaps you might find time to ask Robyn for some self-defense tips.”
Arro raised an eyebrow.
I smirked. “I’ve seen her in action. She’s impressive.”
My sister considered me a moment. “You admire her, don’t you?”
Admired Robyn? She irritated me, excited me, pissed me off, and turned me on …
but admiration? It never occurred to me before but yes, I did.
I admired her bravery in coming to Scotland, I admired her independence and self-sufficiency.
And I admired her physical and emotional strength.
I admired a woman who laid beneath me and dared me with her eyes to find the scars on her chest anything but something she should be proud of.
And goddamn was I itching to know the story behind them.
“Yes, I do.” I reached over and squeezed my sister’s wrist. “She’s trained in mixed martial arts.”
Arro cocked her head, contemplating. “It would never have been my thing before now, but I have to admit, it would be nice to know I could handle myself without a paperweight.”
Ignoring the humor in her voice—I was not ready (and never would be) to laugh at the situation—I got up and kissed her forehead. “I’ll talk to Robyn.”