Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Becca jogged across the street to where Margarete was waiting nervously by the car.
Her gaze traveled up and down the street as if she, too, could feel the eyes watching, just like Becca had.
They both slipped inside the car, and a feeling of security washed over Becca, as though the safety of the car would keep them from the prying eyes.
Tinted windows were so going to be added to her Christmas list. A shiver skirted her spine as she shoved the key into the ignition.
“That wasn’t very smart,” Margarete argued as if she were a stand-in for one Becca’s sisters.
“I got answers.” Becca tossed the car into gear and headed back toward her home.
A lot more questions than answers, but at least she had a jumping off point where Michael was concerned.
All she needed now was to figure out who was in that picture.
When she figured that out, the rest might fall into place.
Even if it wasn’t tied up in a pretty bow to hand over to the cops. She would find the proof.
Becca pulled into her driveway to find Ian standing at her door. His arms were crossed over his chest. His handsome, chiseled face was set in a scowl. Becca might not know that much about Highlanders, but she knew a pissed one when she saw him, and Ian McDougall was not a happy camper.
“Looks like you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Me?” Becca glanced at Margarete. “He expects this from me, but what about you, miss? Cut him free or marry him? I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know why you left the castle and flew across the pond.”
“I’d lay money that he deals with you first and I’m just an afterthought.
” Margarete chuckled as she got out of the car at the same time as Becca.
She headed straight toward the angry Highlander.
She didn’t have to explain why she’d left her own house.
Hell, he shouldn’t have even been there in the first place to care one way or the other that she’d left.
Becca stopped in front of Ian and patted his cheek. “I’ll meet your mom.” Becca glanced over her shoulder. “But you really didn’t have to ask Margarete to come all this way to talk me into it.”
Laughter erupted from Becca’s lips. And with a few simple words she’d flipped the proverbial spotlight right to Margarete.
“Way to deflect, sister-to-be,” Margarete hollered after Becca.
Becca narrowed her eyes and sashayed right into her house.
She ignored the protests from her brothers-in-law about leaving without an escort…
an escort of all things, like she was a tween going out on a date.
They needed some serious help if they thought, just because Becca was the sweet one, that she didn’t know how to play dirty.
She’d learned from her sisters after all.
Becca walked into her room, went straight to her closet and started pulling down the shoeboxes full of pictures that she’d kept. On her second trip out of the closet, she found Ian leaning against her doorframe.
“Where did you go, lass?”
“To find the green door from my dream.” She grinned, tossed the boxes on the bed and walked back into the closet to get more before returning. “Your sister has your phone. Tell Ryker thanks for the address. It turned out to be helpful.”
“Helpful how?” Ian asked, closing the bedroom door. His face held a predatory look. Not smiling, not happy, as though he was struggling to hold back from blowing a gasket. Becca lifted the lid off of the first shoebox and set it aside.
I should spank her ass.
“Lay one hand on me, Ian McDougall, and I swear….”
“Get out of my head, lass. You donae want to hear my current thoughts. All of them are X-rated, and none of them end with us leaving this room anytime soon.”
Becca exhaled a long sigh. “I was armed. I’m not a child. I just went to see who lived there and to warn the person. I didn’t go to confront the killer.”
Ian slowly stalked toward Becca. Her heart skipped a beat. Not that she was worried that Ian would hurt her. She was worried she might enjoy it. Be an ass. Please, just be an ass. You can do it. Give me a reason to throw your ass out.
He rested his warm palm on her cheek. “We made a deal. We were going to do this together. Remember?”
“You were busy,” she said, trying to lighten his mood.
Ian lowered his head to look her right in the eyes. “Make no mistake, lass. I’m never too busy for you.”
He caught her off guard by crushing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss while tangling his fingers in her hair.
She’d known it was coming but wouldn’t have guessed it would be while he was trying to prove his point.
His fingers loosened in her hair as his other hand pulled her closer.
She automatically leaned into his warm embrace, pressing her breasts against his wide chest. Who was she kidding?
She probably wanted this more than even he did.
His tongue dueled with hers as he released her hair. Both palms landed on her ass, and he lifted her in the air. Becca wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. The heat of his erection pressed into the juncture of her thighs, heating her core even more.
Before she knew it, Ian had turned them both and had her back pinned against the wall before he broke the kiss. “Tell me you’ll no’ go out alone again.”
“I wasn’t alone,” Becca said, trying to catch her breath and slow her frantic heartbeat.
“You’ll no’ go without me,” he amended while grinding his erection between her thighs.
“I see your lips moving, but it’s hard to have a rational thought with you pressing against me.”
“Aye.” He winked. “Tonight, I’ll be sure to ram home my point.”
Becca’s panties dampened at the thought. “Okay, caveman. Put me down. I’ve got a gazillion pictures to go through. You can help…only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself.”
Ian slowly lowered her body down his, making sure she felt every inch of what he’d promised. She was in for a long, hot night, and God, if she didn’t want him to wear her out, ensuring no dream came again.
“What did you find?”
“The door belongs to a shrink. One of her clients is obsessed with me. I’m looking for a specific picture. I’m hoping it can give us some answers.”
Ian moved to the bed, handed her a box and took one himself. “What does the picture look like?”
Becca showed him the hand-drawn picture from her birthday party. “This. I need to know who he took out of the picture.”
“This mentally disturbed person drew this of you? Does that mean he was at your birthday party?”
She nodded. “He’s a friend of the family.”
“Do you think he’s the killer?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. The murdered girls look like me: same hair color, same eyes. He could be the one. It would make sense.”
“Then I guess we should find that picture.”
Ian pressed his lips to hers once more before starting to flip through pictures.
She grabbed her own box and started looking, only with her it was a slower process, looking at each with fondness while recalling the memories.
She didn’t tell Ian about the rest of the pictures that he’d drawn of her, or the well behind her mom’s house.
She’d been around Michael a lot as a young girl.
He could have kidnapped her or worse, and no one would have known.
The opportunities were there, yet he hadn’t.
Hours after her brothers-in-law had left, Ian and she were still looking through pictures. The natural sunlight in the room started to dim and made her vision blur.
Ian rose and dropped his pictures in a pile he’d been accumulating. He held out his hand. “Come on, lass. We need a break.”
The smell of coffee drifted to her nose as she walked out of her room.
She’d expected her living room to be in shambles from whatever security measures her brothers-in-law were installing, but instead, it looked as if they’d never been there at all. Stealthy fuckers. No wonder Harper never had a clue that Ryker had been inside her house or watched her for months.
Seconds later her doorbell rang, and Ian followed her to answer it. She went to pull it open when his hand landed on the door.
“Never just open your door until you know who’s on the other side, lass.”
Ian looked through the peephole and swung the door open, blocking Becca’s view.
“Who are you?” His words vibrated in demand.
“Pizza delivery,” the teen answered, his voice shaking.
Becca elbowed Ian out of the way. “We didn’t order one.”
He glanced at the ticket attached to the box. “Betty Thatcher ordered it, paid for it, and covered the tip.” He held out the box, along with an envelope. “She paid extra for me to give you this.”
Becca took the envelope while Ian took the pizza before shutting the door on the teen’s face. She was going to have to break him from being so rude. She slid her finger beneath the flap as Ian walked into the kitchen.
Becca pulled out the picture that was tucked inside the envelope. It was the same picture that Becca and Ian had spent hours searching for. This one was the original, and it showed Becca exactly who had been marked over in anger.
“It was…Betty,” Becca whispered to herself as she flipped the picture over, looking for a date. Instead, there was handwriting on the back.
Meet me at your mother’s house tomorrow at noon for tea, and I’ll explain everything.
~Aunt Betty
Becca’s stomach grumbled, prompting her toward the delicious smell. She dropped the envelope and picture on the counter and headed straight for the pizza.
“What was in the envelope?” Ian asked, pulling at the string of cheese from the pizza and shoving it into his mouth.
“The picture we were looking for. It was Betty who was scribbled out. She said she’ll explain everything tomorrow.”
“Thank God someone knows what the hell is going on,” Ian grumbled and grabbed some plates from the cupboards. “We’ve got the rest of the afternoon to relax.”
Becca’s lips twitched as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head, letting the material drop to the floor. “I can think of other things to fill the time; things that are long overdue.”
She spun on her heels and paused to glance over her shoulder. “Bring the pizza. We’re going to need it for stamina.”