Electrifying in a Kilt (Hot Scots #16)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Iona

At seven thirty in the morning, a fist pounds on the front door. Bod an Donais , who would come to Rafe's house this early? I'd been awake for a while, resting my cheek on his chest while I waited for him to rise and shine. He must have been even more jeeked than I realized. But the pounding that echoes through the house has roused him at last.

He groans and rubs his eyes. "What the bloody hell is all that racket?"

"An unfriendly guest, I assume. Time to get up, Rafe." I poke him in the side. "Right now."

"Dad! Some bloke is trying to knock the house down!"

At the sound of his son's voice, Rafe leaps off the bed and scrambles to find his clothes. We had both slept naked last night. I jump up too and gather my clothing. But he gets ready first and races out into the living room. I arrive just as Rafe tears the door open

"You?" he snarls. "How dare you assault my home and frighten these women."

I don't think any of we women are terrified. Anxious and confused, aye. But not frightened. Maybe that's because we know Rafe Knight would take whatever measures are necessary to protect everyone in this house.

Rafe seemed to recognize the visitor, but I've only just reached the doorway. Rafe's body had blocked my view until just this moment.

A chill races through me, raising gooseflesh on my arms. "It's the cacan who stalked me in Loch Fairbairn. How did you find us?"

The villain warps his mouth into a snide smile. "As if it was so bloody difficult to track you down. My boss knew how to find you, and he sent me to deliver a message."

Rafe glowers at him. "How long have you been spying on us?"

"Since before you stormed into that dowdy little Scottish village."

I scowl at the cacan too. "Dowdy? Loch Fairbairn is lovely and full of good, friendly people."

The stranger sniggers. "Those 'good friendly people' will tar and feather you once my boss is done with you, Ms. Buchanan."

He made my surname sound like a vile insult.

No one denigrates my family name. We Buchanans are a proud, strong, loyal lot. But I don't get the chance to tell the cacan that.

Rafe seizes the man's shirt and hauls him closer, to within millimeters of my stalker, his voice deceptively soft and filled with menace. "If you do anything to harm or even annoy anyone in this house or in Loch Fairbairn, I will tie you to the back of my car and drive down the street at high speed. I hope you enjoy the taste of asphalt and blood."

The cacan 's eyes widen a wee bit.

Rafe gives him a rough shake. "Tell me your name. Now."

When my stalker refuses to respond, I kick him in the shin. "Tell us."

He looks at something behind us, and I glance back to see what it is.

Toby, Eric, Phillip, Courtney, Maeve, and Rowan stand there with their arms crossed while glaring at the cacan .

Oh, my, I've never seen them looking so fierce.

Rafe shakes my stalker again, making the man's head snap backward and forward. "Who are you? This is your last chance to cough up the information."

"I, ah..." The cacan winces and blows out a breath. "My name is Hubert Frye."

"And you work for..."

He squeezes his eyes shut. "Graham Oliver."

Everything inside me goes cold, as if icy water has been injected into my veins. When I speak, my voice comes out hushed because I cannae believe what I'm hearing. "Graham Oliver? The man who once owned the Loch Fairbairn newspaper?"

It was a scandal sheet, at best. But I won't divulge the details in front of the children.

"Yes," Hubert says. "Graham claims you stole his livelihood. After Rory MacTaggart chased him out of Scotland, he couldn't get a good job, and he blames you for that. I don't know anything else. I've done what he paid me to do."

Rafe bends his head down to glare into Hubert's eyes. His nose bumps into the cacan 's. The dark tone of his voice gives me hot shivers. "I want to know exactly what Graham Oliver paid you to do. Every detail."

I lay a hand on Rafe's arm. "Set him down, mo chridhe . I'm the object of Graham's hatred, so I should be the one to interrogate this cacan ."

Rafe's lips quirk. "Yes, I suppose you should have that honor. But I will remain by your side every moment."

"Of course. Now, please drag this bod ceann into the living room and detain him on the sofa."

The younger generation watches as Rafe hauls Hubert away, and I shut the door. The man I love hoists Hubert off his feet, dropping him on the sofa like a sack of potatoes. The bod ceann has ruffled hair, wrinkled clothes, and a look of terror on his face. He bloody well deserves to feel that way.

Rafe leaps over the sofa's back, plopping down right beside Hubert.

I walk around the end of the sofa to settle down on a cushion. Rafe is beside me. He seems unlikely to release Hubert since he has his arm wrapped around the man's throat---gently but firmly.

The children gather around us. The lasses take the chairs at the dining room table while the laddies take up positions behind and at either side of the sofa like sentinels. I believe they would step in if Hubert tried anything.

Maeve and Rowan cross their arms, aiming flinty stares at the intruder.

I love those lasses to the moon and back. Buchanans are a steadfast lot.

"Your turn, pet," Rafe says. "Interrogating this bastard is your domain."

"Thank you, gràidh ." I shift about so I'm half-turned toward Hubert---and Rafe, who refuses to allow me to be between him and the cacan . "How much do you know about your boss, Hubert?"

The man shrugs. "He hired me and gave me my orders."

"And those orders were to do...what?"

Hubert's face takes on a pinched expression, and he bows his head. Then he mumbles what must be words, though I can't understand them.

"Speak up, Hubert."

The bod ceann sucks in a big breath and looks at me. "I was to scope out the village and uncover as much dirt as possible on you. My job was harder than I expected."

"In what way?"

"Well, based on what Graham told me, I assumed you were a sleazy tabloid reporter and a liar." Hubert wriggles a wee bit as if he's uncomfortable. He bloody well should be. "Graham wouldn't tell me everything, and he would never let me near his ruddy satchel."

Now things are getting interesting. The adrenaline from this man's arrival had waned somewhat, but now it's ramping up again. I feel like a real journalist, at long last. "What about his satchel? Do you have any idea what was in it?"

"I told you he never let me see it. The thing is old and tattered, yet he insists on carrying it everywhere. I wouldn't be surprised if the bloke sleeps with it under his pillow."

More gears turning in my mind, more tantalizing hints.

I hesitate, though only long enough to formulate an idea and try a new tactic. "Tell me, Hubert, where does Graham live?"

"What? I can't tell you that. He'd murder me."

"Graham is that unhinged?"

Hubert rubs his arm. "I didn't mean it literally. He might be a complete tosser, but I doubt he has the nerve to kill anyone."

Aye, I'm well aware of how cowardly Graham has always been. Even the events he triggered years ago were executed in a gutless fashion. He has no stomach for real peril.

But things are taking an even more fascinating turn. "Tell me, Hubert, how did you become involved with Graham?"

"I, ah, just got released from prison a few months ago. I'd been given a five-year sentence but got out a bit earlier on parole."

Rafe grunts. "Not for good behavior."

"Actually, it was for good behavior, I'll have you know. Not much to do in prison except try not to get murdered or become the favorite toy of some burly bloke. Fortunately, no one liked me, so they left me alone."

I'm not sure I believe that story. But we have more urgent issues to discuss. "What did Graham offer you that made you want to risk violating the terms of your parole?"

Hubert grasps his arm firmly. "He said he'd pay me ten thousand pounds to do the job. One thousand in advance, and the rest once I finished my end of the deal."

"What crime did you commit?"

He winces. "Identity theft."

Rafe squints at the laddie. "Whose identities did you appropriate?"

"Elderly people, mostly. They're the easiest to, uh..."

"Trick into giving you their personal information so you could divest them of their life savings?"

Oh, what lovely company Graham keeps. But then, he is a con artist just like his new friend.

I continue my interrogation of this degenerate bawbag. "Why were you walking round and round the village for...how long? Days? Months?"

"Only six days at the time you and this bloke"---He rolls his eyes toward Rafe---"caught me outside your house. But I learned quite a lot during that time and after."

"Such as what?"

The cacan lifts his chin in a defiant expression, though his lips tremble. That suggests he's trying to con us into believing he knows more than we think he does. Hubert is a professional con artist, after all. Maybe I should ring Alex Thorne for suggestions.

But no, I doubt we have time for that. I feel as if we've breached the castle walls, and we're on the cusp of routing out the enemy once and for all.

Rafe gives Hubert a rough shake. "Tell her what she wants to know."

The growly tone of his voice makes me want to drag him into the bedroom and shag him like mad.

Hubert's eyes flare wide. "Calm down, mate, I'm going to tell you, I swear."

I squint my eyes the way Rafe did a moment ago. "That pathetic little village has a police station, but the two constables are morons. They spend most of their time helping to catch livestock that escaped from their homes, or perhaps the occasional kitty stuck in a tree. Oh, but those coppers do serve one vital purpose. They make everyone feel safe as houses."

Maybe we have been lax about security, but no one could have guessed that Graham Oliver would do...whatever it is he's trying to accomplish.

"Once and for all, Hubert," I say, "what is Graham's endgame?"

"Sorry. Can't help you there. I told you he keeps everything locked inside that satchel."

"But you must have met with him at least a few times. Where did those meetings happen?"

"In a park. Always a different one every time."

Mhac na galla . I'm out of ideas. That satchel might help us, but we have no clue where Graham is hiding out.

Hubert clears his throat. "There is one more thing I can tell you." He smirks. "Graham Oliver is going to ruin your life, Iona. Everything you've worked for will be burnt to ashes."

"Why does that please you? We're strangers to each other."

"You set the sodding coppers on me back in that sweet little village. I don't appreciate that." He glances sideways at Rafe. "And I'd love the chance to get a bit of payback for what this lout did to me. Rot in hell, I say, for the both of you."

Hubert bites down on Rafe's arm, distracting him just enough that the cacan can wrench free of Rafe's grip on his neck. The vile toad springs off the sofa, leaping over it like an Olympic hurdling champion, and flings the front door open before any of us can react.

I scramble off the sofa and race for the door just as it swings open and whacks into the wall.

"No, Iona!" Rafe shouts.

But I'm already sprinting past the threshold. Up ahead, I see Hubert barreling down the drive. He avoids our cars, probably because trying to hotwire one of them would take too long. The pounding of heavy footsteps assures me Rafe isn't far behind me.

"Stop, you bloody-minded woman!"

I run faster, faster, faster, until I'm gaining significant ground in my pursuit of the con man turned enforcer. Hubert glances at me over his shoulder. His eyes widen, though he keeps going. Is he shocked because I'm catching up? Or because it sounds like Rafe is close behind me? Dinnae care. Stopping that identity thief from getting away is my only goal.

My ears have started to ring. I'm pushing too hard, I know, but I can't slow down until Hubert gives up.

Rafe blazes past me and tackles Hubert to the ground, much like he'd done back in Scotland when the vile toad spied on me. Rafe sets one foot on Hubert's chest.

When I catch up to my hero, I can hardly pull in a full breath. "Are you---all right---Rafe?"

"Yes." He sounds almost as breathless as I am. "Did he---hurt you?"

I shake my head. The cacan didn't get close enough, but I need a few more good breaths before I can tell him that. My pulse races too fast for me to do anything more than gasp, until I finally regain my normal breathing. Rafe seems to have caught his breath too.

Hubert attempts to slither out from under Rafe's foot. Aye, the daft, wonderful man raced out of the house barefoot. And I suddenly realize I'm barefoot too. No wonder my feet hurt.

Rafe plants his foot on Hubert's chest more firmly. "I wouldn't recommend moving. If I shift my foot one inch higher, I could crush your ribs." He bares his teeth and chuckles. "On second thought, please do move. I'd love to watch while your chest caves in."

A tingle of excitement just rushed through me. I do love it when Rafe turns into a feral beast.

Hubert's lips are quivering. His eyes gape as if he's seen a ghost. When he looks at me, he swallows hard enough to make his Adam's apple jump. "What are you going to do to me?"

I glance at Rafe.

He smiles. "You decide, pet. This bastard has been stalking you, after all."

What should I do? The cacan might still have information he hasn't shared with us. "I think we should take him back to Scotland. My brothers and their friends have skills that might become useful."

"As you wish, love." Rafe lowers his gaze to Hubert. "Although perhaps we should take him to my laboratory first."