Sweet Mother Mary and all the Saints, it’s good to be back in Glasgow.
The helicopter lightly touched down on the helipad atop MacTavish International, the - mostly - legal front for the clan’s business. About thirty minutes into the two-hour flight, Luna fell asleep on my shoulder, prompting knowing winks from Michael and my brother Logan, who knew I’d punch him in the throat if he gave me any shite about it.
I still haven’t decided what to do with her. But that’s a thought for another day. I’ll get her settled and deal with the shitestorm from the outcome of the mission.
“Luna lass, open your eyes now, we’re here.” It’s almost a shame to wake her up. A little smile is curving her pretty mouth, and she looks at peace for the first time since I spotted her on that surveillance video. Abruptly and suddenly awake, she stiffens and pulls away from me.
“Where’s here?” she asks, leaning over me to look out the window.
“Let me help ya out,” I say, gently lifting her down from the helicopter. Everyone’s giving us space, which means they know she’s not gonna take this well.
“I’ve never seen this part of London,” she murmurs, rubbing her eyes.
“Ah, well. We’re not in London. This is Glasgow.”
Eyes open wide, she turns in a circle, looking at the city skyline. “But… I thought we were heading to London, not another country! Why are we here?”
“My family lives here. There’s a metric tonne of shite to go through regarding the mission. My Chieftain is not completely happy with the results,” I admit, rubbing the back of my head. “Give yourself a moment, aye? We’ll put everything right again.”
“But I have to get back to the hostel in London! What if they throw my luggage out? I can’t be in Glasgow!” Looking down, she remembers that she’s in a pair of dirty shorts and my sweater. “With no clothes or ID or money, or…” She laces her hands over her head, pacing back and forth.
Ah, I canna help the unwelcome softness I feel, lookin’ at her anxious face. I dinna like being soft. It weakens me to feel like this. “We’ll message them right away to hold your luggage and sort out the passport situation. For now, I can offer a shower and some clean clothes stolen from one of my cousins. Catriona likely is already planning for that.” She still looks worried. “I’ll sweeten the pot: dinner that dinna include bullets, poison, or protein paste.”
“You had me at the food with none of that creepy protein glue,” she says gratefully. “Lead on, Wally.”
“Pardon?” My cousin turns, looking confused.
“Wally,” she follows me into the lift. “Mydeeplyappreciative nickname for your cousin here.”
Everyone crowded into the lift with us starts laughing.
“Well,myname is Wallace,” he says crossly, “and no one who values their life calls me Wally. Just hearin’ it makes my teeth ache.”
“Oh!” Luna says apologetically, “You’recousin Wally? Crap. sorry. I’ll find some other nickname for your cousin, here.”
“Oh, as his brother, I can give ya a list of his childhood nicknames,” Logan offers helpfully, cutting off abruptly as my elbow accidentally hits his sternum.
Luna watches this little exchange with narrowed eyes. As we exit the lift, she leans over to him. “Let’s talk later.”
He gives a hoarse croak of approval.
“What the feck happened there? Why did you abort the mission?” The Chieftain of the MacTavish Mafia is not happy with me.
“There was no choice,” I say coldly. “The Lords decided to dip into human trafficking. I canna sit back and watch women being raped, mission or no.”
“The data we got from your listening deviceswasgood,” he admits. “We intercepted two deliveries of chemicals needed for compounding the gas, so we know they hadn’t finished the first batch yet. Where was the lab?”
“I tracked the location to a mechanic’s shed by their helicopter pad this morning. The lab was underneath it, but it was empty,” I say regretfully. “They must have had just enough advance warning to get off the island.”
“They won’t be coming back for anything. The C4 we planted took out every structure aboveandunderground on that island. The force of the blast was so great that it flattened trees on a nearby peninsula,” Michael says proudly. The man loves his explosives.
“Any residual gas from the initial demolition of the lab dissipated within ten minutes,” I add. “We placed an anonymous call to Interpol regarding dangerous chemical activity. Investigators are already on the scene, but they’re kitted out properly for a chemical spill, just in case.”
“That part is well done, lads.” Cormac leans forward, his eyes blazing. “But when ya tapped that watch of yours for immediate intervention, we dinna have the full force ready. Richard Fecking Armstrong made it off the island with the chemists and the nerve gas formula. He’s in the wind.”
There’s a collective groan around the table, and I feel guilt swirling in my chest. Nonetheless, I’ll never regret protecting Luna and her friend.
“We have his father in custody,” I point out. “With some persuasion, I’m sure he can lead us to Richard.”
