“I can see why you and Cate got along,” James commented, as the girl cleared way their dinner plates. “You’re like her.”
“Stubborn?”
She’d heard that before, from her brother whenever they got into the usual brother-sister fights growing up. And she and Cate had a few constructive conversations over certain aspects of her books—characters that were too thinly disguised from people who were still living, things that could be revealed about places Cate had been, things she had seen.
Cate usually won, and her publisher had them make the usual disclosures in the front piece of each book after having the manuscripts vetted by their legal department to make certain they weren’t exposing anything that would bring on a lawsuit. But she had won her share.
James nodded. “There’s that. She had to be strong in her work, sure of herself,” he replied, surprising her. “And to hell with anyone who didn’t like it.” That dark gaze narrowed on her. “You’re like that.”
Then he was glancing past her toward the bar again, where a disturbance had broken out among the group of young men. They had surrounded the waitress when she returned. When she tried to go around them, she was cut off, one young man reaching out and crudely touching her breast.
It might have been an accident, but her reaction was no accident. She punched him, hard, which only raised the stupid level as he grabbed her by the shoulders, his expression changing to anger.
James pushed his chair back from the table.
“Do you have our receipt, miss?” he asked the girl as he approached the group at the bar.
“Fuck off!” the one who’d grabbed her replied, then turned back to her.
“Enough, lads,” James said, barely loud enough to be heard over the laughter and crude comments. “Leave her alone.”
“And I said, fuck off!”
The change in him was barely noticeable, but Kris recognized it. She’d seen that same reaction once in her brother, when everything suddenly changed and became dangerous.
One of the other young men glanced in his direction, then made a comment to his companion. Another comment was made and they all laughed.
Kris didn’t see him move, only what followed as he grabbed the young man’s arm, twisted it behind him, then slammed him face down onto the bar. When the young man’s companions would have gone after him, that dark gaze warned them back.
“Stand back or I’ll break it off,” James told them, in that same low voice that promised he would do exactly that, as he pulled the young man’s arm up higher against his back.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” the young man screamed, his face pinned against the bar. “You broke my nose!”
The tavern owner came out of the kitchen behind the bar, a meat cleaver in one hand.
“What’s this now?” he demanded, waving the cleaver in their direction.
“I’ve told you before. I’ll not have your trouble in my place. Pay what you owe, then be on your way.”
Several seconds passed. The tavern had gone silent except for the hiss of the fire at the fireplace and the clatter of a dish in the kitchen. Money was slapped down on the bar. As the others left, James released the young man who wiped the blood from his face with a tight expression.
“Get out!” the owner repeated.
The door of the Alehouse slammed behind him. The owner turned to the girl.
“Go on your way now, Lexie,” he said gently. “You have customers waiting.” He looked over at James as he tucked the cleaver under the bar.
“My apologies for the trouble.”
“No problem,” James assured him, as he picked up Kris’s credit card.
It was after nine o’clock when they reached her hotel in Inverness. The snow had followed them, the air sharp with the changing season. He rounded the rental car and pulled her carry-on bag from the trunk, then walked with her across the lobby to the front desk.
She gave the front desk manager her credit card.
“Would you have broken that boy’s arm?” she asked. That dark gaze met hers.
“I could have. That’s all that matters.” He set her bag down.
