Calamity Jena (Invertary 4)

He turned the corner and found Jena sitting on the floor beside the main door. His breath stuttered in his chest, as it usually did when he saw the woman. It was easy to understand why the men of Invertary were falling over themselves to date her. Unfortunately, after about ten minutes in her company, you also realised why none of those first dates led to a second—the woman was chaos personified. He’d never met anyone so easily distracted and accident-prone. She was a one-woman weapon of mass destruction.

But she was stunning. Waist-length honey-brown hair that fell in waves over golden skin. Curves, voluptuous but toned, that made a man itch to touch her. Her lips were the colour of a ripe peach and just as lush. But it was her eyes that undid him. Wide eyes the colour of warm honey. Eyes a man could melt into. He shook himself from the daze she induced.

Matt crouched down in front of Jena and tapped her knee.

Her shriek had him covering his ears.

“Stop that right now!” Matt watched as comprehension dawned in those sinful eyes. It was followed closely by relief.

“Matt.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, I thought…” She looked around nervously. “You startled me.”

“Yeah, I got that from the screaming.” Matt stood. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” He turned towards the door.

“No.” Jena scrambled to her feet. She pulled the earbuds from her ears and stuffed them into her massive canvas bag. “I claimed asylum. I’m staying here. I have water. A toilet. I can order pizza and they’ll deliver through the window. I’m all set.”

Matt took a deep breath and looked down at her. In her platform shoes, the top of her head made it just past his shoulders. She blinked up at him, wide-eyed and earnest. It took him a minute to figure out who she reminded him of, and then it hit him—the cat from Shrek. He closed his eyes for a second to regroup.

“Number one.” Matt held up a finger. “This is Invertary. There is no pizza delivery. Number two. You can’t claim asylum. There’s no such thing.”

“Of course there is. I saw it on TV.”

“Those are political asylum seekers. Generally they register with the government, who then reviews their case. They live in houses the councils provide. They don’t hole up in church toilets.”

She seemed confused. The cutest little lines appeared between her brows. “I didn’t see that show. I was talking about the movies. Clint Eastwood. That sort of thing.”

He stared at her as his brain rebooted. “You mean cowboy movies. Westerns?”

She smiled widely. “Exactly. But if you need me to register, hand the paperwork through the window and I’ll sign it.”

For a minute he was tempted to give up on the conversation and leave her in the bathroom. “Jena, those movies aren’t real. They’re fiction.”

“Those movies are based on historical fact. They have to research them and stuff.”

“They’re also based in America. You’re in Scotland. Even if they were real, we don’t let you claim asylum in churches over here. Come on, it’s time to leave. The Weight Watchers group meet in half an hour and they like to use the toilet before the weigh-in. They won’t be happy to find the door locked.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “How would you know something like that?”

“I have a mother and two younger sisters. I know everything there is to know about needless weight loss and insane diets. Now, let’s get out of here.”

She grabbed his arm. “I can’t leave. I…” She looked around, maybe hoping that an excuse would present itself. At last her shoulders slumped and she seemed resigned. “There’s someone in town looking for me and I need to hide. Or run.” A thought occurred to her. Her eyes went wide. “Wait a minute. Are you going to arrest me? Did he send you in here to take me to the big house?” Her brow scrunched. “No, that ca

n’t be it. He wouldn’t send in the cops.” Her face went white. “Those have to be Rizzoni’s men he’s got with him. There can only be one reason he brought mob lackeys to Scotland.” She took a deep breath. “He’s going to kill me. I claim asylum.”

With a screech, she ran into a toilet stall and locked the door.

Jena slammed the toilet lid down and sat on it. She was going to die. She knew it. Why else would Frank come all the way to Scotland? It wasn’t as though he loved to travel. He thought New York was too far to visit, and that was only a two-hour drive from Atlantic City.

“Jena.” Matt sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

Jena felt instantly guilty. It wasn’t his fault she’d brought all this trouble to town. He was doing the best he could, but a small-town cop in the Scottish Highlands wasn’t equipped to deal with the Atlantic City mob.

“Tell me what’s going on right now.” His commanding tone sent shivers down her spine. Still, she didn’t answer.

“Jena? Why did you think I was going to arrest you? Why do you think Frank wants to kill you?”

Jena chewed down on her thumbnail before stopping when she remembered she would never be able to afford another manicure.

Matt sucked in an irritated breath. “I’m ten seconds away from ripping that door off its hinges, dragging you to the station and putting you and Frank Di Marco in a room until someone tells me what’s going on.”