“You fucking think I’ll let you live?”
It’s Sloan. Vaulting over the kitchen counter, I tear out the back door. She’s got her stepfather pinned against the bamboo fence, holding a gun to his head, nice and steady.
“It’s just business, honey. You know that!” He’s got his hands up and this eejit still thinks he can talk his way out of this. “I had a good marriage lined up for you. Christoph is practically German royalty.”
“You killed my mother!” she screams, her hand beginning to shake. “You poisoned my brother! You were going to kill him and Carmella! I’m putting a bullet in your fucking head andno one will miss you!”
“Wife.” I step up to her, nice and slow. “Sweet wife, I dinna want ya to have this on your conscience. Let me do it for ya.”
“No,” she says, choking back a sob. “I have to do this. For my family.”
“MacTavish, she’s nuts,” Masters bleats anxiously, “we’re businessmen. We can make a deal.”
Pulling out my Smith & Wesson, I step behind Sloan. “Sweetheart. Let me do this for you.”
Her shaking hand lands on top of mine, holding the gun. “We do it together.”
Masters is a man who is comfortable killing with impunity, but it’s clear he’s never considered that death would come for him. His hands fly up in an appeasing gesture. “Wait. Wait wait! I can-”
I line up the shot, and his head snaps back, splattering the fence with blood and brain matter.
There’s little time for a clean-up, so my team opens up the propane valve fueling the stove, throws a flashlight in the microwave for two minutes, and the cabana explodes, lighting up the resort like it’s high noon as we run for the boat.
Sloan keeps her arms around Nate, who's giving her a thorough rundown on the last few months. She doesn’t let go of him, nodding and murmuring questions when it looks like he’s slowing down.
Carmella plops down heavily next to me. “Sorry,” she says, “I don’t have my sea legs.”
“No worries.” I offer my hand. “Ethan MacTavish, Sloan’s husband.”
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting the man who turned her world upside down,” she says with a wry smile.
“To be fair, she up-ended my life first.”
“I believe that,” Carmella laughs. She leans her head against the seat. “So what happens now, Ethan?”
“We all head back to Edinburgh, ya consult with our medical staff and tell us what Nate needs next. You’re family, I hear, so I hope you’ll stay with us.”
She smiles, and I realize that my wife is not the only one who’s carried this family on her shoulders.
After everyone’s settled on the jet and we’re back in the air, I take Sloan’s hand, putting her in the chair next to me. Nate’s asleep, his mouth slightly open, and Carmella’s chatting with Patrick and Catriona.
“How are ya feeling, my wife?”
She’s having a hard time looking at me. “Do you hate me?”
Playing with her fingers, I think about what to say. “Of course not. I know why ya react this way. But I’m raging that you’d put yourself in danger.”
Something occurs to her. “Wait. How did you find me so fast? You have to have been there less than an hour after I arrived.”
I slide my hand around her neck, stroking over a little bump on the back just under her skin. "I inserted a tracker when you were so sick. Ya dinna even notice."
“You!” Her pretty pink mouth is open, she’s so enraged. “You chipped me? Like- like a cat or something?”
“Every MacTavish has a tracker,” I say calmly, “it’s how we can find someone if they’re in danger.”
She can’t seem to get over the first point. “Youchippedme!”
I take her chin, forcing her to look at me. “And you’re alive, wife. Because if I lost ya…” Now it’s my turn to swallow and look away. “If I lost ya, nothing else would have mattered.” Placing a long slow kiss on her mouth, I murmur, “Because I love ya.”
