“I must get back to my students.” I rise, trying to stretch some of the tension out of my shoulders. Logan gathers up the rest of our lunch, throwing it in the trash. “A man who cleans up after himself? Now, that is a rare thing.”
“Wait until you see how well I cook,” he says, “and do the dishes. Dinner tonight. My place or yours?”
“Rather bold thinking I’ll say yes.”
Logan gives me the most rakish possible grin, the knowing smirk of a man who knows he is irresistible. “I’ll text ye after work.”
“I dinnae know. You’re a lot of trouble.”
“This is true,” he agrees easily, “but ye can ask me more questions.”
“Done.”
Laughing, this time he does kiss me on the cheek, and the students streaming back into the school hoot and holler at the sight. “Goodbye for now, Arabella Blair.”
He disappears around the corner of the building and I groan. The minute he is out of sight, there’s an insistent little nudge at the base of my spine.
Run. Ye should run.
That determined nudge keeps pushing at me as I gather my students from the playground and herd them back to class.
The afternoon is winding down and I’m watching the clock almost as much as my kids when the door opens and a blond man walks in, two more lingering just outside and all wearing school maintenance jumpsuits. The nudge at the base of my spine has turned into a frantic fist, pounding at me torun.
“Miss Blair? I need you to come with me, we require your help outside.” The blond man smiles at me, all teeth and leans forward to show an enormous gun, holstered under his jumpsuit. His back is to my students and he casually scratches his chest near the weapon. “It’s very simple. We don’t want to disturb the students atall,correct?”
Logan was wrong. This isn’t over.
“Ye dinnae- I’m coming. Dinnae hurt them,” I hiss, folding my arms to hide my shaking hands. My classroom is near the back of the school. There’s a janitor’s closet and then the emergency exit. The alarm will go off. Someone will see us.
“Wait.” Roger’s voice is loud and a little hoarse, he dinnae like speaking much because his siblings tease him at home. “You’re building maintenance. What do ye need her for?”
I shake my head sharply, signing,Sweet boy, this is not the time.
“Move your hands again and I’ll start shooting.” The bastard grins. “I’ll start with the pushy little boy.”
“I’m coming!” I hurry toward him, trying to smile at my puzzled students. Roger looks like he’s about to explode out of his seat and I shake my head again.
The door shuts behind us and I sag in relief. It’s only a thin layer of wood between my bairns and these men, but it’s something. The two who’d been hovering grab my arms and hustle me out the back doors. My heart sinks when I realize they must have disabled the alarm, there’s no siren, no lights flashing. No one’s going to know until my students come looking for me.
I can only hope they stay put until we’re gone.
Chapter Seven
In which we learn poor Arabella is not just waist-deep in the shite, it’s up to her neck and rising.
Logan…
My fist plows into Max’s face and he just takes it, flying backward and landing on the floor, splattering the Persian rug with blood.
“Ya lavvy heided bamstick! How the feck did they get past ye?”
“They got her into a maintenance van that was parked behind the school all day,” he says, spitting blood on the floor, trying to avoid the expensive rug. “We’d checked it earlier and it had standard repair equipment and tools. The men were nowhere around. They disabled the alarm on the back entrance and stabbed Finlay; he was guarding that exit. They shot Marc as they pulled out of the back lot.”
“Motherfecking sons of bitches wankstains!” I shout, running my hands through my hair instead of punching the arsehole in the face again.
“I failed ye and the family,” Max says grimly. “I submit myself for punishment.”
Uncle Cormac’s jaw is tight. “This is some sloppy shite. Ye will do dock work until we have time to address this. Dr. Maura says Finlay’s gonna pull through, but Marc isdead.Now get out.”
