Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Fifty-One
Kirk
The next morning, Gretchen and I head to the film set where I'm scheduled to perform a complicated stunt for an action movie.
My fiancée has been worried about it for three days.
The stunt involves a side-by-side car chase between me and another stunt driver on the twisting, turning roads just outside Loch Fairbairn.
After that, the action will move to another location.
The production has taken over an abandoned quarry outside the village, transforming it into a dramatic landscape of rocky cliffs and steep drops.
A ramp the crew has constructed at the edge of a thirty-foot drop will become the denouement of this stunt.
I explained all of this to Gretchen yesterday. She seemed fine with it---until today. The lass accused me of shagging her relentlessly for hours last night strictly to distract her.
Would I do such a thing? Well, aye. But only to soothe her nerves.
"You've got to be kidding me, Kirk," the lass replies while shaking her head. "That sounds even more dangerous than the Aonach Eagach stunt which, you might recall, ended with you dislocating your shoulder. And it could've been much worse than that."
"Relax, luaidh mo chèile. Ye trust me, don't ye?"
"You know I do, but---" Her brows wrinkle in the sweetest way. "What did you call me?"
"Luaidh mo chèile. It means you're the love of my life."
She smacks my chest. "Getting cute does not make me feel better about this new stunt."
"I survived Aonach Eagach. This will be easy in comparison." My words haven't soothed her, so I take a different approach. "Would ye feel better if ye met the other driver?"
She perks up immediately. "Yes, absolutely. When can I meet the other guy?"
"This morning. Will that do?"
"Yes!" Suddenly grinning, she kisses my face from chin to forehead, then wraps her arms around me so tightly that she might accidentally strangle me. "You are a strange woman, Gretchen. But I love that about you."
"Thank you," she replies, pulling back from the embrace with a shy smile. "I'm only worried about you because of the Dougal thing."
"I ken that, lass. And I understand why you're anxious. But stunts are my specialty. It's in my blood." I tug her into my arms and kiss her with more passion and sweetness than I ever knew I had in me. "I love you, Gretchen. That means I have a vested interest in staying live---for you."
Her bonnie wee smile feels like sunshine after the rain.
We make our way to the set, where the morning light casts a golden glow over the Highland landscape. The crew buzzes about, making final adjustments to the cameras and cars.
My director, Garrett Booker, spots us and waves us over. "KB! Perfect timing. We're about to do the final safety check."
Gretchen squeezes my hand a bit tighter. I give her a reassuring wink before asking, "Is Keith here yet?"
"Aye, he just arrived. He's over by the cars."
I guide Gretchen toward the vehicles where a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black racing suit is inspecting the sleek sports car he'll be driving.
"Keith!" I shout, raising a hand in greeting.
The laddie swivels toward me, and a broad smile splits his face. "If it isn't the great Kirk Balfour!" He strides over, every movement radiating the kind of controlled power that makes him one of the best stunt drivers in the business. "And who's this lovely lass?"
"Meet Gretchen Carver, my fiancée. Gretchen, meet Keith Cruickshank, the only man I trust to drive like a madman alongside me."
Keith extends his hand to Gretchen. "Pleasure to meet ye, lass. Dinnae worry. Your man and I have done this sort of thing dozens of times."
I can feel Gretchen relaxing beside me as she asks, "How long have you two known together?"
"Nearly ten years now," Keith answers with a grin, shaking Gretchen's hand firmly. "Your man and I met on the set of The Highland Rogue. Remember that disaster, Kirk?"
"Oh aye, how could I forget? The director wanted us to drive off a cliff with barely any safety protocols in place."
Keith smiles and shakes his head. "We refused until they brought in proper equipment. Nearly got sacked, but we stood our ground."
I notice Gretchen is studying Keith as if she's measuring him up. My lass is clever that way.
"So, you two look out for each other?" she asks.
"Oh aye, always," Keith affirms with conviction. "That's the first rule of stunt work---trust your partner. I wouldnae be standing here today if your man hadn't spotted a faulty harness during a high fall stunt five years back. That's the kind of man you're marrying."
"And I wouldn't be here either if Keith hadn't taught me how to position the airbags properly for that twenty-meter fall in Edinburgh," I add, clapping my friend on the shoulder. "We're a proper team, lass. No stunt happens without triple-checking every detail."
Gretchen visibly relaxes, and I notice the worry lines on her forehead are softening. "What exactly are you two planning today?"
Keith gestures toward the course laid out before us. "It's actually quite controlled. We'll be driving parallel at about seventy miles per hour---"
"Seventy?" Gretchen's eyes widen.
"Relax, that's nothing for professionals like us," I quickly explain. "The cars have reinforced frames, racing harnesses, and roll cages. We've both driven at twice that speed on closed courses."
"And the jump?"
Keith points to the ramp in the distance. "That's my part. Kirk here will peel away before the quarry edge. I'm the one taking the jump."
The lass turns her attention back to me. "You're not jumping, Kirk?"
"Not this time, luaidh. I'll do the car chase, but Keith is the jump specialist."
"Oh thank goodness."
Keith winks at her. "Dinnae worry, lass. I'll make it seem like it's your man, though. That is the magic of film, aye? The audience will never know the difference."
"Drivers to position!" the first assistant director, Stewart Lister, shouts through his megaphone.
I turn toward Gretchen. "I'll be back before ye know it, lass."
"Be careful," she whispers, then crushes her lips to mine in a quick, fierce kiss that says everything her words never could.
"You know I'm always safety conscious," I remind her with a wink before striding toward my vehicle---a sleek black Aston Martin that's been modified for the stunt. The engine purrs beneath me as I slide into the driver's seat.
Through the windshield, I can see Gretchen being escorted to the viewing area by one of the production assistants. She turns back once, giving me a wee wave that I return with a confident nod.
Keith's voice crackles through my earpiece. "Ready to show off for your lass, KB?"
"Aye, ye know I am. Let's give Gretchen something to talk about that doesn't involve broken bones."
I settle into the driver's seat, adjusting my racing harness with practiced hands.
The engine's purr is a familiar comfort beneath me as I run through my mental checklist. Every dial, every gauge, every surface of this car has been customized to my specifications.
It's as much a part of me as my own limbs when I'm performing.
Garrett's voice crackles through my earpiece. "Cameras are rolling. Ready when you are, gentlemen."
I center myself and tune out everything else, even the rustling of the breeze. All my worries about Dougal, all the thoughts about the wedding plans, even Gretchen's anxious face, they all fade away. There's only the car, the road, and the stunt.
"Three," the countdown begins.
"Two."
I grip the wheel, as my fingers find their familiar grooves. The muscles in my legs tense, ready to engage the pedals with a precision that comes from years of practice.
"One."
My pulse kicks into overdrive, but my breathing remains steady. This is the moment where everything else disappears.
"Action!"
I slam my foot down on the accelerator, feeling the g-force thrust me back into my seat as the Aston Martin leaps forward. The road ahead blurs as I rapidly gain speed, the speedometer climbing past thirty, forty, fifty miles per hour.
In my peripheral vision, I spot Keith's car matching mine, stride for stride. We're perfectly synchronized, two machines dancing along the Highland road. The twists and turns come at us rapid-fire, and I lean into them, feeling the car as an extension of my body.
"Looking good, Kirk," Keith says in my ear. "Time to show off a bit, eh?"
I grin beneath my helmet. "Aye, let's give 'em a proper show."
The next sequence is where we earn our pay.
With skillful precision, I swerve toward Keith's vehicle, coming within inches of his driver's side door before pulling away.
He returns the favor, and our cars dance a deadly ballet of near-misses that would terrify any normal driver.
My focus narrows to the mechanics of the stunt---the pressure of my foot on the pedal, the precise angle of the steering wheel, the timing of each maneuver.
This is what I live for. The rush of adrenaline, the perfect control amid chaos.
"Coming up on the split point," Garrett warns through the comms. "Thirty seconds."
I ease off the throttle slightly, preparing for the crucial moment. The quarry edge is visible now with the ramp jutting out like a challenge against the Highland sky.
"Twenty seconds to split," Keith confirms.
I glance at my side mirror, catching a glimpse of Gretchen in the distance. I swear can see her holding her breath.
"Ten seconds."
The wind howls around my vehicle as we maintain our parallel dance. The speedometer reads sixty-eight...sixty-nine...seventy.
"Five seconds. Ready, KB?"
"Ready," I confirm, my voice steady despite the adrenaline burning through my veins.
"Three...two...one...NOW!"