Jesus.
Why the bloody hell am I even thinking along these terms? She doesn’t belong to me. She isn’t mine.
But when she looks to me, and her eyes meet mine, I can’t help the instant reaction. Mine, my instinct says. They say the call of the bagpipes is our call to arms, deeply woven into our very DNA. My attraction to this woman is every bit as innate and instinctive, like the lonesome wail of the pipes, and there’s no point bloody fighting it. For now, I’ll make her my prisoner, no need to explain to anyone beyond that.
My men obey, Clyde taking the driver’s seat and Mac sliding in beside him. Tate gets into the back to her left and I get in to her right.
“Fucking go,” I tell Clyde, when suddenly the woman starts shaking her head and rocking beside me. She smacks at my leg. At first, I’m too surprised to react, but when she does it a second time, I grab her wrist and restrain her.
“Stop that,” I mutter. “Jesus. What the hell is it?”
She looks out the window to her right, and my eyes follow hers. I blink in surprise when I see a dog running to us. What the fuck is this? He paws at the door and begins to bark, the bloody bastard.
“Go,” Mac says. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”
Clyde gives him a sidelong look, half surprise, half anger.
“For my Captain’s fucking orders,” he growls. Good man. He’ll be rewarded for his loyalty.
I’d leave the mutt if not for our prisoner’s agitation. Even now, I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing. I open the door, and the dog leaps straight into the crowded back seat, goes to the woman and licks her face. She grins at him. Bloody grins.
“What the hell, Leith?” Tate asks.
“No fucking names,” I snap.
“Doesn’t matter, brother. We’re taking her prisoner, aren’t we?”
He’s right.
I shake my head and shut the door.
“Leith?” Clyde asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror. He’s as bewildered as I am.
I shake my head. “I said on the way down we needed a bloody fucking watchdog,” I mutter. “Take us home.”
* * *
Chapter Four
Cairstina
When I left home tonight, I had no idea I wouldn’t have to go back. At least for now.
The men I’m with are brutal and savage. I mean, I actually saw the man sitting next to me snap the neck of another man. But he did it because that other man was going to kill me.
That’s something, right?
No one’s ever killed someone who was trying to kill me. I mean, I suppose most people can say that. It’s like something straight out of fiction, but if you watch the news you’ll know it actually does happen.
Too bad it wasn’t my brother.
The moment the thought comes to me, I hang my head in shame. My brother might be an abusive arsehole, but he doesn’t deserve to be killed. My father, on the other hand…
I don’t know how Bailey got out tonight, but my heart soars with hope when the man sitting next to me —Leith, did they call him?— said they needed a guard dog. My hands are bound in front of me, so fortunately I can stroke Bailey’s silky ears and kiss his nose.
Good boy, I think, praising him silently. But dogs are unlike people. Bailey licks my hand in appreciation for the praise. He understands me even though I don’t speak. He understands me even sometimes before I understand myself, that gift of intuition or something.
I should be afraid. I don’t know who the men in this car are or where we’re going. I have no idea what they’ll do to me when we get there. If they were going to rape me, wouldn’t they have done it already? Why take me to a remote location? Are they going to dispose of me because I’m a witness?
You are so naïve, Cairstina, I berate myself. Very few people talk to me, so I sort of make up for it by talking a lot to myself.
Of course I’m being far too naïve. They very well could be planning to take me somewhere to rape me, or kill me, or both, couldn’t they?
They’re talking amongst themselves, and at first it seems like they’re arguing, but clearly the man who bound me and took me is the leader. When he raps out sharp commands, the others fall into line. I’ve even heard a yes, sir, and right away, sir. Who is he that he commands these big, strong men so? Who are they that they defer to his authority?
They don’t want to take Bailey. “Good fucking guard dog,” the man one of them called Mac says. I don’t like him.
God, I shouldn’t like any of them. What is wrong with me? Am I so starved for protection that I’ve deluded myself into thinking that I’m safe with these men?