They both chuckled unwillingly at my feeble joke, and Papa poured a glass of wine for each of us.
“Should I toast my sexy wife?” Dougal whispered as Papa was giving his order to the waiter.
“Do you want my father to shoot you?” I hiss.
“Too soon?”
“Gavin’s upset that he couldn’t be here to see you,” Papa continues, “he’s in Naples right now with the Contis.”
I know he’s dropping their name to take the piss out of Dougal since his family was vying for the same alliance. “I’m so glad it’s working out so well,” I smile sweetly, “the Contis are such a perfect fit for our clan.”
Side-eyeing Dougal, I watch him force a smile and drain his glass of wine. Still, as we settle into some cautious conversation along with the tasty-looking charcuterie board, I feel myself relaxing.
An explosion rips through the brick wall, the quiet moment disintegrates as shards of wood and concrete fly everywhere. The world turns upside down as I’m thrown from my chair. My ears are ringing and I know Dougal’s shouting at me but it’s not making sense. He hauls me off my feet, tucking me under his arm like a football, and yanks on my father’s shoulder, moving us both back as the massive skylight above us cracks into a thousand fissures and rains down glass and blood in a grisly spray.
The Blackwood guards surround my father, pulling him out of the room. I see two bodies crumpled in the fallen glass and bricks. I know them. Jack and Finlay, they’ve worked for our family for ten years. Papa’s reaching out for me, trying to pull away from his guards, but they have him out the back door in seconds.
Coughing, I look up at Dougal. He’s trying to talk to me but the violent ringing in my ears makes me catch every other word. “We… go…nowlove! Move…” I stumble away with him, gripping his hand but still looking over my shoulder as my father is pulled to safety.
“Move move move!”Angus is shouting at the other men, who pile into the two SUVs following us. I can see three of the guards have to be lifted into the cars before the shooting starts.
A bullet glances off the door Ian opens for us, barely missing him. I can hear screams and more glass shattering behind us. Poor Michael, he was just trying to help us and they’re shooting his restaurant to pieces.
“These feckin-” Dougal hauls me inside the car, putting me on his lap and slamming the door shut.“Go!”
Chapter Nineteen
In which Dougal says, "That's not my gun."
Dougal…
“I can’t breathe.”
I’m still looking around us, one hand on my gun holster, so Isla’s desperate little plea doesn’t hit me until she starts wiggling on my lap. “Sorry.” Loosening my grip just slightly, I’m amused as she keeps squirming. “What’s the problem now?”
Angus is racing through Finnieston, a hip neighborhood on the west side of Glasgow, with terrible, narrow streets. Not a good place for a car chase but I’m fine with him driving on the sidewalk if necessary.
“Your gun is digging into my ass,” she says between clenched teeth.
It takes me a minute for her words to make sense and then I can’t stop laughing. “That’s not my gun.”
Now Isla’s really thrashing, trying to get free and I groan as her arse cheek digs into my crotch. “Stop wiggling around before you get me off. Ignore the ‘gun.’ I can control nearly everything except for how my dick responds to you.”
Her face is a flaming shade of red. “How can you be laughing right now! What is wrong with you?”
I try to stifle my chuckles. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the same car keeping pace with us on the next block over, coming back into view with every cross street.
“Angus, black Range Rover, one street to the east,” I say, pulling out my gun.
“Oh, there it is,” Isla mumbles, which makes me laugh again. I’ve never been in a state where I’m on high alert, pissed off, turned on, and laughing at the same time. It’s a miracle I’m not having a stroke at this point.
Ian, my other guard in the front seat is rapidly issuing information to the other two cars in his headset while checking his Ruger. “Boss?” he says grimly, “To the west.”
There’s another Range Rover on the other side, one street down. “They’re going to try to box us in,” I say, checking behind us. “In the next intersection or two, they’re going to use another vehicle to slow us down. Keep an eye out for a truck or something big.”
Lifting Isla off me, I strap her into her seatbelt. “The second you hear gunfire, you get on the floor, do you understand?”
She’s glaring at me as if I’m the stupidest man alive. “Give. Me. A. Gun,” she enunciates slowly. “I am a crack shot.”
