Chapter 13 #2
Fran nods. “I can. I remembered he plays rugby with a bloke in my lit class, so I looked him up and sent him a message.”
Tate’s brow draws together and he frowns. “Oh?”
She nods. “Aye. Got in touch, asked him some questions. He’s a fucking wanker, but I did manage to get Jack’s address out of him.”
Tate leans menacingly on a side table with familiar-looking covers. I walk closer and nearly groan. Those terrible books my sisters pawned off on Cairstina.
“Send it to me, lass.”
Fran nods, then her eyes light up when she sees me and Cairstina.
“Hello there, Leith,” she says with a smile.
I growl at her, and shake my head. I don’t like people using my name in public, but she doesn’t seem to care a lick. She smiles curiously at Cairstina. “And you are…?”
“She’s with me,” I tell her, putting a protective arm around Cairstina’s shoulders.
Fran looks mildly surprised, but only nods. “Name’s Fran,” she says with a smile. She winks and jerks her head to us. “Friend of the family.”
Cairstina takes her hand and shakes it, then looks down. It must be awkward not being able to finish the most basic of formalities like an introduction, but I’m pleased. Even if she could speak, I wouldn’t want her saying her name in public.
Cairstina’s eyes alight on the books on the table, and she claps her hands in delight. She points to the cover, then wiggles her brows at Fran, who laughs heartily.
“Oh, I’ve heard good things about those books,” she says with a grin. “Can’t say I’ve read them myself. Should I?”
Cairstina nods vehemently, urging her on, and Fran grins. “Excellent. I’ll have to remember that.”
“Did you send the address to Tate?” I’ve no patience for this nonsensical chatter.
“Aye,” she says cheerfully, not at all daunted by my short temper. “And I’ll accompany you, then?”
“This time, aye.” I nod. “You may prove useful.”
She gives me a smarmy look. “Aw, you’re too kind. I love to prove useful.” But she follows us out of the shop, nonetheless.
I put the address into my phone’s GPS. “He lives near the castle ruins,” I mutter, looking at my phone. “Is that right? Is he with his parents?”
“Er, no,” Fran says, looking away. “But yes, that’s the correct address.”
“He lives on his own?” She takes a step back when I nearly bellow at her.
“Jesus, Leith, I didn’t hook ‘em up. For the love of God,” she mutters. “Aye, that’s his address. He lives in a flat with flatmates.” She clears her throat. “He’s, eh, in college. Or, he was…”
What?
“Was?”
“Think he may’ve graduated…”
We’ll deal with this later. The most important thing right now is finding Paisley.
My phone rings, but I’m disappointed to see it’s only Islan.
“Have you found her?” she asks, and I regret my earlier toughness. I know how deeply she loves Paisley and how concerned she is about her wellbeing.
“Not yet, but we have a lead. I promise you, we’ll find her.”
I shouldn’t have made that promise, I know it as soon as I hang up the phone.
We went searching for Tavish when he went missing. We never brought him home.
I hang up the phone. Fran follows in her own car as we head to the address on the map. Cairstina looks out the window, as we drive in silence.
“And what will you do if you find her there?” Mac asks, scowling. “We try to keep things under the radar, Leith, you know that.”
“Och, aye, I know it,” I tell him. “Won’t bloody well march in and tear her away from her boyfriend, though I’ll be bloody tempted. I just fucking hope she’s even there.”
Mac nods. “Aye. Me, too.”
“Where’s the damn house?” I ask, shaking my head. “GPS says we should be there by now.”
“Christ, it isn’t on the map,” Tate says, shaking his head. “What the hell are we going to do now?”
I wish I could ask Cairstina’s opinion. It’s hard not being able to have a real conversation with her. I wonder what it is she’s thinking, what’s in the mind of hers. You take regular conversation for granted, sometimes, until you want a proper talk, I suppose.
God, the way she looks at me…
The way she melted into me, as if she belonged there, how she fits so perfectly in my arms when I hold her…
The way her beautiful eyes say everything her lips can’t…
Suddenly, Cairstina smacks my leg. It startles me so much, I jerk the wheel and the car skids. I look sharply to her, and she’s pointing out a window, shaking her fist to get my attention.
“Think she sees something,” Mac says with a snicker.
“Shut it.”
There’s nowhere else on this road for miles, so I slow down and look to where she’s pointing. I don’t see anything, though, but when the car comes to a full stop, she yanks on the handle to the car door and shoves it open.
“Hey! What the bloody hell are you doing?” I ask, leaving the car myself and chasing after her. There’s nothing but snow-covered grass that leads to trees. Back in the day, this must’ve been a sheep pasture or something like it, but now it’s a blank canvas as far as I can see. “Cairstina! Wait!”
But she doesn’t listen. She’s smaller than I am, and lithe, so she runs quickly through the snow. Bloody hell, how is she running so fast in those goddamn heels? I nearly trip over them. She’s kicked them off? My God, is she crazy?
Then I see what she sees. There’s a dirt road here, hidden among the trees.
“Cairstina, you’ll catch yer fuckin’ death of cold,” I scold, but still she goes on, pointing. I nearly chuckle. “Aye, I see it, too. It isn’t a wee figment of your imagination.”
I look over my shoulder and the others are far behind. Tate shouts, but we can’t hear him from where we are.
“You’re crazy, woman,” I tell her when I reach her, reaching for her hand. I look at the address and name. This is it. Down this road’s a string of houses nearly hidden in the trees and dark, each one mankier than the first. Paisley, what are you doing?
I hear voices inside, but can’t make out any that I recognize, and not the one I hope to hear.
Is she even here? I look for a bell but find none, so I give a good, sharp rap. The voices inside cease, but footsteps approach.
“Who’s there?”
“We’re looking for Paisley.”
Silence, then the sound of a doorknob turning. Someone opens it, but keeps it latched. I can’t see them through the darkness.
“And who the feck are you?”
I stand up to my full height, ready to knock his fucking teeth in. “Her brother.”
“She went home. And you should, too.” The door slams in my face.
Well, then. Seems he doesn’t know who her family is, and that’s a good thing. Unfortunately, he soon will.
I draw in a steadying breath, and when I look to Cairstina, she’s frowning at the door, shaking her head. She points to it insistently.
“I know, I know, I agree.”
I knock again, louder this time.
“Go away!”
If I have to bloody break this door down, I will.
“Got something to ask you,” I say in a tight voice, trying to sound pleasant but failing miserably.
The door opens, and this time he’s unfastened the latch, probably so he can intimidate me. He’s a good-sized bloke, but even if I wasn’t bigger and stronger than he is, I’ve got enough adrenaline pumping through my veins to fucking murder him.
“Just need to ask you some questions,” I say genially, and when he relaxes a hair, I shove the door open, push my way inside, and hear shouts. He’s not alone. The sofa’s filled with guys that look like footballers, four of them. They get to their feet and come toward me.
“Who’s this fuckin’ prick?” one asks, cracking his knuckles. I hold up my hands. Even though I want to beat his arse, I don’t want to have a fight. I want to get Paisley, and I want to get home.
“Said she went home,” the guy says, his eyes narrow. “Now get the fuck out before I call the police. If you’re not out in three seconds, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
Then a plaintive voice yells weakly to me from the other room. “Leith?”
Paisley.
As soon as he hears her voice, he’s after me. In one quick move, he grabs a knife from the kitchen counter and brandishes it, but I don’t even let that break my stride. I kick it out of his hand, grab him by the shirt, and throw him against the wall.
“Get him!” he yells to his friends, when Tate and Mac enter in behind me.
“Oh, excellent,” Mac says with a grin. “We’ve come to the fight party?”
Someone grabs me from behind, and Tate’s after him with a roar.
“Cairstina, go get her!” I shout to her, but she’s already halfway down the hall.
The guy from the door comes at me, but I deck him, relishing the feel of bone snapping when my fist connects. I grab him by the shirt and haul him up in front of the others. Tate’s got one on the floor and he’s savagely kicking him, and Mac’s got another in a headlock.
“Who’s Jack?” I ask, my voice deadly calm, when I see Cairstina and Paisley. I nearly lose my fucking mind.
Paisley’s covered in a sheet, and she’s got a fat lip. Cairstina’s enraged, I can tell by the way her face is splotched red.
“Who’s Jack?” I roar. They all point to the man in my hands.
“Don’t kill him, brother,” Tate mutters, breathing heavily from nearly fucking killing the douche on the floor. “But you can make him wish he was never fucking born.”
I hold him up by the shirt. “What did you do to her?” I turn to Paisley. “Did he do this to you?”
She nods.
I see fucking red.
I kick him in the stomach and when he doubles over, I knee his jaw. His head snaps back, and he groans, but I don’t fucking care. I hit him again, and again, until blood splatters on the floor and wall with every sickening blow.
“Leave him, brother,” Tate says, his own attacker passed out in a pool of blood. Mac’s got the third still conscious.
“You tell your fucking friends you will forget her name,” I tell him. “And you write this date down. You remember this well. This is the day you almost fucking died.” I give him one more vicious kick and he slumps against the wall. He could be dead, and I don’t fucking care.