“If ye must. Please tell Da that I’m sending him the schematics he asked for. They should be downloaded within five minutes.”
“All right.” I’m still watching Logan’s pirate grin. I should be hanging up. But he’s so pretty…
“Are ye sure ye dinnae want more talk about what I’m gonna do to ye when I get home, sweet Bella?”
“Goodbye!” I blurt, face beet red. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph this man is going to kill me.
Cautiously knocking on Dougal’s office door, I jump a little when it swings open. There’s several more of the MacTavishes packed in there, and they’re all holding weapons.
“Ah, Logan wanted me to relay a message? He uh… he said the schematics you’re wanting should be downloading now?” I’m frozen on the threshold, not wanting to startle the men in a room full of guns.
“You’re Logan’s lass, grand to meet ye! I’m Uncle Lachlan.” The man casually puts thetwo grenades he’s holdingin his suit pocket and strides over to me with a grin. “Welcome to the clan.” Lachlan has dark eyes, almost black, but I swear there’s a tiny demonic flame burning in there. He opens his arms for a hug and my eyes bulge.
“Grenades…” I say faintly. “Pocket full of grenades.”
Kenna and Isla are suddenly behind me. Kenna loops her arm with mine, “Let’s go out and sit by the fire, aye?” Her mother smiles at me reassuringly, but she’s already swiftly dismantling an assault rifle and reassembling it and I really do not want to be in this room anymore.
“Sounds grand, thank ye.”
Logan…
I knew my sister would have Arabella well in hand by the time I got to Da and Mum’s place, and she did a fine job. They’re sitting around the outdoor fireplace with Kai’s wife Luna, laughing.
“The fire’s too big? Really?” My wife looks genuinely remorseful.
“You’re definitely perfect for Logan.” Luna taps her glass to Arabella’s. “The pyromaniacal bent leans toward soulmates.”
Admittedly, the blaze is so big that there’s flames shooting out of the stone chimney but who am I to discourage my bride’s love of fire. My parents still live in the big Georgian style mansion they bought in a posh section outside of Glasgow when Mum was pregnant with Kai. Their neighbors know better than to complain about something as minor as a wee bit of a bonfire.
“Oh. Well, we had a fireplace at my parent’s house, a huge thing,” Bella explained. “My pop never allowed us to use more than a stick or two of kindling. ‘Too expensive,’ he said. Look how nice a big, cheerful blaze can be!”
I suspect she is on her second glass because she’s a bit chatty. Crouching in front of her, I cup her cheek. “Sweet wife, I will buy ye an island and we’ll have a proper forest fire for your birthday.”
She jumps out of her seat, letting me haul her up, wrapping her legs around my waist. It’s possible that the car chase this afternoon shook her up more than she knew.
“That was quick! Kenna and Luna were kindly sharing some memories about ye.” My wife smiles sweetly, but I can tell she’s got some ammunition stored up to taunt with me later.
“None of the absolutely worst bits,” Kenna assured me, smiling sweetly.
“Hmmm.” There’s little I can do that intimidates my sister any more, which is a shame because the woman is a menace. “I need to meet with Da and the others. Have ye eaten, sweetheart?”
Luna and Kenna make little“Aww…”noises. Eyeing the empty wine bottles, I say, “I’ll have the cook send some food out.”
Once I’m in the war room, better known as Da’s study, it looks like we’re already on our way to a resolution. Adriano Costa, the head of the cartel and owner of the warehouse Uncle Lachlan turned into a crater, is on the big screen monitor.
He dinnae look happy.
“Attacking my men and our warehouse could be considered a declaration of war,” he growls.
“Ye brought women and children into one of our ports for human trafficking.” Uncle Cormac has my father’s seat, and he’s radiating fury. “Ye have always known our stance on the Red Trade. They have all been taken to a safe house.”
Costa laces his fingers together. “The wrong shipment was sent to the port. I will, of course, discipline the lieutenant responsible for the mistake and have his head delivered to you.”
My attention moves the men in the background. Costa is seated outdoors on a terrace, palm trees waving and a profusion of vividly colored flowers, most likely at his estate outside ofBogotá. There’s another group of lounge chairs behind him with five or six men seated there. One of his sons, Marcos, I think, is whispering angrily to another man, one of Costa’s chief advisors.
“There is also the matter of your men attacking one of our wives,” Uncle Cormac continues. “This is a violation of a long-held agreement between the families.”
This news, it seems, Costa had not heard, because his face is turning a mottled red.
