The twins spun in their matching boots and darted along the corridor to the hotel reception. A minute later they were out in the cool night air.
“How the hell did he recognise you?” Megan demanded as they sprinted away from the pub. “We’re identical. We’re wearing the same freaking clothes tonight. Only three other people can tell us apart.”
“Less talking. More running,” Claire shouted back.
“I don’t think so,” a voice said behind her as an arm swept around her waist, and Claire found her feet dangling above the ground. Her back pressed against a firm chest. An arm made of solid muscle held her tightly.
“Mine,” the voice said again.
“As entertaining as this caveman crap is,” said another male voice, “I think you should probably put the nice girl down so we can talk this through.”
Claire spun around as the man holding her turned to his friend. “Mine.”
“Down, boy.” The other guy grinned. He, at least, looked approachable. Possibly even friendly. Also, he wasn’t growling “mine” every few seconds, which was a plus.
“Let go of my sister,” Megan snapped. “This isn’t the Ice Age. You can’t come along and claim ownership of a person. Put her down right now. Or so help me, you’ll regret it.”
Megan was furious. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were sparkling and her hair was flying. She looked ready to do some damage. The less terrifying guy laughed. “Hold it together, Tinker Bell. The big guy here only wants to have a chat. Right?”
Claire felt the muscle behind her tense before his breath warmed her ear. “I’m going to put you down. You will not run. You get me?”
She nodded
. She wasn’t capable of speech. Slowly, he lowered her down his body and placed her on her feet beside him. He kept his arm wrapped around her waist. His large palm was flat against her stomach above the waistband of her jeans. Claire swallowed hard and looked up over her shoulder at him. And up. He had to be about seven foot tall. He’d been a whole lot less intimidating when he was lying down. Being unconscious helped too.
“Come over here, honey.” Megan used the same tone people adopted with skittish animals and terrified children.
“Stay,” the mountain rumbled.
Claire stayed.
She cast a glance at Megan out of the corner of her eye and saw her own confusion and fear mirrored there. Neither of them knew what to do.
“This is going well,” the cheery guy said. “I’m Joe Barone. The big guy is Grunt. We didn’t mean to freak you out. Grunt here would like to have a chat about his head injury. He’s missing some information.” He chuckled. “Although the poster you made cleared up some of his questions.” He spread his hands wide. “How about we find somewhere quiet and have a chat? Friendly like. Nothing to worry about.”
Megan hitched a thumb towards Grunt. “Can you keep a leash on the gorilla? Because if you can’t, I’m calling my brother to come get us.” She turned to Grunt. “My brother, the cop.”
Grunt stepped closer into Claire’s side. She could feel his body heat overwhelm her. “Mine,” he said again. He took her hand in his. It swallowed hers whole. His grip was firm, but not threatening.
Claire couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t do anything.
“He has to stop saying that,” Megan said to Joe. “Make him stop saying that. Claire does not belong to him.”
“Claire.” The reverent way that Grunt said her name went right through her, making her shiver. His free hand gently stroked her cheek as his eyes softened. Then heated. Claire gulped, but still she couldn’t move her feet. Was this how a kitten felt when a rambunctious toddler claimed it? If that was the case, she’d taken her last animal to kindy for the kids to pet.
“Is he mentally disturbed?” Megan said. “Is he capable of speech? Should he be out without supervision? Please, tell me there aren’t a bunch of guys wearing white coats running around Invertary trying to return him to his own special institution.” She turned to Grunt. “Mountain man, do you normally wear a jacket that buckles in the back? Think hard. Are you usually in a white room? Alone? With padded walls?”
Grunt frowned at her, while Joe laughed hard. “No, he isn’t insane. He’s just Grunt. Come on, let’s go get a coffee, and some food. I need to eat and we all need to talk.”
Megan linked her arm through Claire’s and firmly yanked her away from Grunt. His hand held fast and Claire felt like the rope in a tug-of-war. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
Grunt growled at Megan, who backed up a step. His eyes softened when he looked down at Claire.
“I won’t hurt you.” His words and manner were so earnest that Claire found herself believing him. She relaxed slightly, casting a nervous glance at her sister.
“Glad we’ve got that sorted,” Joe said. “Let’s go back to the pub and get some food.”
Warily, they turned back towards the big white building. The tortured sound of more locals killing popular songs wafted on the cool night air. As Claire stepped back into the restaurant area of the hotel pub, Grunt leaned over to whisper in her ear.