Chapter Seventeen
In which Ethan learns that his reputation as the blood-soaked Scottish Demon is not helpful when creating a foundation of trust.
Ethan…
What the feck just happened?
I know Sloan was scared when my fecking eejit cousin bragged on about me being the Demon. My gut still clenches, thinking about how she curled in on herself, her back to me. I thought I’d talk to Da and let her calm down. I’d explain it all after she’d seen the doctor.
She’s insane! What is she thinking, runnin’ off like this? She knows Masters sent more people after her.
“We’ll give you a taste before we take her. Masters doesn’t care what condition she’s in when we deliver her as long as she’s still breathing.”
That prick, graciously offerin’ to let me rape her? Motherfecking piece of- I wish I could have taken a lot more time with him. He’d be begging for death long before I allowed it.
Now she’s in the wind. No money, no ID or phone.
“God- damnit!” I shout at the sky.
Logan comes bolting up to me from one direction, and Ewan from the other. “Ya dinna see her?” Logan wheezes, hands on his hips.
“Feck! Fecking hell, no!” I rub the back of my neck. “I’m an arsehole. She’s terrified of me now, you stupid son of a bitch! Why did ya have to run your mouth like that?”
Logan looks puzzled. “I dinna think it mattered. She was all soft with you, hangin’ on to you on the ATV. I thought she knew that you were protectin’ her.”
“I was!” I shout, “But she dinna know I was the Demon. She probably thought I was gonna take her home and- and eat her or something.”
Ewan picks the wrong time to give a dirty chuckle. “Eat her? Aye, I can- OW! Fecker!” He cradles his jaw, glaring at me.
“Ya shut your mouth when ya talk about her,” I jab my finger at him, wishing I’d punched him harder.
They both stare at me, puzzled. “Shut my mouth when I talk about her?” Ewan mumbles.
“Hush it,” Logan says, “ya dinna want to rile him up.”
“He looks all riled up already,” Ewan says.
Jesus Christ, with eejits like these, no wonder she got away.
Da shows up, mouth tight and concerned. “I was hoping I’d be seeing your girl with you, son.”
“She’s got nothing,” I groan, yanking at my hair. “Even if Master’s new crew doesn’t find her, she could get taken by any piece of shite.”
“I’ll call in our best trackers,” he says reassuringly, “we’ll find her quickly. We know the city and she doesn’t.”
Somehow, that just makes me feel worse.
“This is shite,” I snap, trying to move away from Dr. MacTavish before she’s put in the final stitch in my leg. “I’ve got things to do-”
“No,” Da says, arms folded as he watches the doc, “you’re right where you need to be. You’re no good to that girl if your leg gets infected.”
“I dinna know how she ran,” I groan, “her ribs…” Anxiety surges up in me like a tidal wave and I dinna know what to do with it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to fight down panic, a long time since I dinna know exactly what to do. “They’re bad, her skin’s so bruised and swollen. She might have popped a lung when I dragged her down the side of that mountain.”
“She dinna pop a lung,” Doc says wisely, “or she wouldn’t be running at all, though it must have hurt like hell with those ribs.”
“Thanks, Doc.” That in no way makes me feel better.
“You’re welcome,” she says pleasantly, patting me on the shoulder.
Feck. Sloan’s shoulder. Dinna it need a sling or something?
“FECK!”
“Son, take a breath.” Da’s concerned gaze meets mine. “We’ll find her. Though I’m mighty impressed with her determination. A strong lass there.”
“Aye,” I sigh, “she is. Brave as can be. She dinna even scream when I crash-landed the jet.”
His expression grows hard. “It sounds like we have a lot to talk about. Let’s go find out if your cousins got any information.”
“The feckers didn’t have any ID, that alone tells us they’re professionals,” Michael grouses, “we dinna see the helicopter ya mentioned, I think they must have drop-lined from the chopper.”
“What about tattoos? Anything we can trace from the guns?” I’m pacing back and forth, my cousins watching me warily.
“I took pictures of their ink,” Jack says, “they’re already uploaded to the database, I’m hoping we get a quick match. As for the guns, no serial numbers or clue of origin, like ya would expect. Did your girl really take out three of ‘em while you’re rappelling your arse down that cliff?”
I smile, despite the seriousness of the moment. “She did. Whilst strapped to me.”
“That’s a worthy lass,” Jack approves, “too bad ya lost her- ow! What the feck, Michael?”
“It’s either me or him,” Michael nods at me, “and I’m thinking Ethan will gut you like a salmon.”
“No more jokes,” I say, “Sloan’s in a feck tonne of danger and we have to find her before these new arseholes do.”
Sloan…
Flora is currently my favorite person in the universe because she not only hid me until she was sure Ethan was gone, she also let me borrow her phone to call Carmella.
“Can you come here?” Carmella’s relief to hear from me is obvious.
“I can’t,” I say, “it’s too risky. I know there’s two groups tracking me and I am not leading them to you and Nate. No way in hell. Did you get the funds transfer from Milan?”
“We did,” she says warmly, “I’m sure there’s a story there but I doubt you’ll be telling me about it right now. Is that one of the reasons you’re in trouble now?”
“It’s… indirectly responsible,” I admit, “but the only important thing is that Nate is covered. If you can send me enough to buy a phone and some falsified ID, I’ll be moving on.”
“Please be cautious,” Carmella says quietly, “don’t risk your safety again. I can’t wait for the day I can see you and Nate together again.”
Swallowing the stupid lump in my throat, I whisper, “I do, too.”
When I timidly asked Flora if I could sleep in the shop’s kitchen that night, she scoffed. “Dinna be ridiculous! Ya can spend the night at my place.” She looks at my gigantic borrowed pants and sweater, still crusted with dirt from our little mountain adventure. “I’ve got some of my girl’s old things, she’s at Uni but I know she’d want you to have them.”
My eyes water. “You’ve been so kind to me, Flora. I don’t know what to say.”
She eyes me shrewdly, “Ya dinna have to say anything. Ya pass it on, aye?”
Nodding my head rapidly, I sniffle a bit. “Aye.”
Flora’s place was about a mile from the sandwich shop, and she made me lie down in the backseat of her little Kia Sportage.
“You’re so good at this,” I tease as I watch the buildings and trees from my vantage point. “Have you saved someone before?”
“Let’s just say I know what it’s like to have to escape someone ya thought ya could trust,” she says grimly.
“I’m sorry,” I instantly feel terrible, “I shouldn’t joke about a thing like that.”
“It’s fine,” she assures me, “ya look like you’ve been through it.”
This is not reassuring, since it makes it clear I look as bad as I feel. My broken ribs are throbbing ominously and they did not appreciate my sprint through downtown Glasgow.
“I- I can pay you,” I blurt. “Tomorrow? My friend is sending money.”
She waves an impatient hand. “Keep it. Ya never know what it’s gonna cost to get where you’re going.”
I don’t know where I’m going, I think, heart sinking, only that it’s as far away from Nate and Carmella as possible.
Once Flora pulls behind a semi-detached house, she looks around before opening my door. “Let’s get ya inside, aye?”
“Thank you,” I whisper, hurrying after her.
“Stop sayin’ thank ya,” she says, a bit of humor in her voice.
“Sorry.”
“Stop sayin’ that, too, girl.” Flora chuckles this time, hastily shutting the door behind us.