Lachlan (Dangerous Doms 5)

“Serves you right,” I say, kicking at him when fury rips through me. These sons of bitches are responsible for so much harm and devastation. It’s a bloody wonder they haven’t done more yet.

“Call Keenan,” Lachlan tells me, panting, his knee on the chest of the incapacitated man in front of him. I do with trembling fingers. Keenan answers immediately on speakerphone, and Lachlan talks to him over me.

“I’m outside the interrogation room. Send someone now. Our guard’s been compromised.”

Keenan curses, and I hear a door open not far from where we are. Moments later, Cormac and Tully show up. When they see the men on the floor, they pull their weapons. A chill sweeps over me at the look in Cormac’s eyes. He’s a beast of a man, but the gentlest giant when it comes to the women of the Clan. He’s welcomed me in as if I were his very own sister. But now, looking at him, it’s clear to me he could pull that trigger and send this man to damnation without thinking twice.

“Get these men into the room,” Lachlan orders. “And you know what to do with the women.”

Tully grabs one man, still howling as crimson blood splashes onto the floor, and Cormac grabs the other.

“Want me to take Fiona to —”

“No. I’ve got her.”

He takes me and leads me past the library to a room I’ve never seen before. It’s chilling and dark, windowless, the floors made of concrete, but I only catch a glimpse from the doorway. It’s like a cell in here, and I can see the men of the Clan, powerful and menacing, lined up like soldiers with weapons. They have prisoners in there. I look away before I see something I can’t unsee.

Keenan meets us at the door, his brows drawn together and his eyes stern and angry.

“What the bloody hell is she doing here?” he asks Lachlan. They have a quick, hushed conversation, and Keenan curses vehemently.

“Of course,” he says. “Do it.”

I watch in silence. I don’t speak or interfere. This is their territory now, and I’d do well to let them do what they must.

“Come, lass,” Lachlan says quietly, but his firm grip on my arm tells me he’s barely hanging onto his temper. “You must do what I say, Fiona. No questions.”

I’m almost glad he puts it this way, that he asks me, because I want to show him that I can do just that. I want to show him that I trust him. I want to give him the assurance of my faith in him, the very foundation of everything we’ve built together.

“Aye, Lachlan,” I tell him, my voice warm with conviction. “Of course.”

He pauses just long enough to pull me close and kiss my forehead. “That’s a good lass.” A few months ago, I may have seen his words as condescending, insisted I was no little lass but a woman. How my feelings have changed in such a short time.

He takes me out a door I’ve never seen before between the library and prison-like room. We walk swiftly to a car and he gives orders on his phone. I didn’t know he was in command like the highest ranking officials, but by the way he tells people what to do, and the way they respond, I know he is. I smile quietly to myself.

I know we’re in danger, but I can’t help admiring the stern cut of his jaw, the furrow of his brow, and the clipped, harsh tone he uses giving commands on the phone.

His authority’s fucking hot.

That’s my man.

“What?” he asks me. He opens the door to a sleek black SUV and practically lifts me in. When I’m seated, he leans in and pulls the belt over my shoulder and buckles me in, then trots to his side and slides into his seat.

“You’re hot, that’s what,” I tell him. “When you go all Mr. Command.”

He shakes his head but smirks. “Your life is on the line and that’s all you can think about?”

“Oh, aye,” I tell him, with an unapologetic grin. “But I can think of much more than that.”

“Like what?” he says as he pulls out of the garage at a speed that makes me catch my breath.

“Like showing you just how sexy Mr. Command is on my knees?” I suggest.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “You’re a naughty little girl.” But I can tell he approves.

“Where are you taking me?”

He sighs. “We’ve a bunker. In the past it was only used for the Chief, a one-man room designed to keep him safe when we’re at battle. It’s only used if there’s danger at the house, as you know we’ve got it heavily guarded.”

I wince. “Yet the guard’s been compromised.”

“Aye,” he says with a sigh. “And as the extended Clan family grows, so has our need for protection. The bunker’s been expanded in the past year. And Keenan and I suspect that what you’ve said about the women of the Clan being targeted this time is spot on.”