Sometimes, it’s soft. He's so caring about my back and making sure he dinnae hurt me. Other times, though, like last night, he had me spread out on the kitchen counter, tied up with his belt and eating me out for dinner instead of the lamb pie he’d made.
Lucas reaches around me, testing the lab table, pressing against me. His dark blue suit fits those broad shoulders so well… “How durable are these lab tables, my filthy girl?”
“Well, this particular table was designed to hold nearly two hundred kilograms,” I say sweetly. “I was working on some chemical armaments and ye know how heavy those metal weapons containers can be.”
“We should test that out.” His voice drops to a growl and everything below my waist is onfire.
“We really should.”
Aaaad then, his phone buzzes. The bad sounding buzz that means things are going to hell.
“Stewart.”
I canna hear it all, but the gunfire in the background is clear.
He’s got me off my stool and halfway out the door before I can blink. “Send extra men through the second service way. It’s hidden behind the dumpsters on the south end. Make sure the residents are out before ye let loose.” Hanging up the phone, he slides his arm around me, moving faster.
“Let’s have it.” I slap my hand on the biometric scanner, locking down the lab before we head for the elevator.
“Your building is under fire. There are drones sending mini grenades through the eight-floor windows. Your flat.”
“It’s got to be Dubois.” My reflection in the mirrored door is pale as milk. “My cousins- all the MacTavish people-”
“Know what they’re doing, too,” he interrupts. “My people are joining the MacTavish force there. My first job is to get ye to safety.”
“I’m an excellent shot,” I say sharply. “Ye should know, ye trained me. We’re going there.”
“We are not going there.” He puts his arm around my waist and hauls me out of the elevator like a sack of flour. “We’re now into ‘protect the asset’ protocol. Follow it.”
“This isfamily!”I object angrily. “I have to-”
We’re on the top floor of the secured parking garage for the MacTavish Medical Division and thus have an excellent view of the helicopter swooping down on us, men already hanging out the doors and strafing the ground with bullets. A car explodes behind us from the gunfire, flipping over on its roof.
“Never mind.” My lips are numb. “He’s bringing the fight to us.”
***
Done in scunnered - Scottish slang for being annoyed and frustrated.
Whinging - Scottish slang for bitching and moaning.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
In which certain lunatic French billionaires really don’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.
Catriona…
“Down!”
I instantly drop to my knees, rolling behind a concrete pillar with a push from Lucas. The old connection between us slides back into place like we had never separated, asset and bodyguard. It’s all there, the defensive maneuvers he taught me, all the protective ways he covered me with his own body. We move smoothly in tandem and he hands me his other gun. He always has a second gun.
“Aim for the left side,” he shouts as he pulls the trigger on his Glock, ammunition spraying as one of the shooters falls from the right side of the helicopter. Another is flung back by a bullet but manages to hold on, damnit.
I see the sunglasses of the man shooting at us on my side, his blank face, his hand on his gun-
Feck!The helicopter swoops past us and goes into a turn to the right, blocking my target. “Fecking son of a bitch bastard pus busting ratbag!”
Lucas’s arms sweep gracefully, keeping the gunners in his sight and drops another one. “I’ve got men on the way,” he shouts, curling his body over me as another line of bullets sends up a shower of concrete chips.
