“Mr. MacTavish-”
“Call me Michael,” I say for the thousandth time.
“Uh, Michael, I’m sorry to call you on Maisie’s phone but she’s… uh… sleeping and I hoped that you could come get us? She told me to call you first before… she got nappy.”
Checking Sophie’s location, I see they’re about five miles from the campus of their private boarding school. “And what are the two of ye doing, away from campus with no security?” I say coldly.
There’s a watery shriek behind me as Duncan turns the hose on our guest, waking him up.
“What was that?” Sophie gasps. “Are you hurt?”
“Raccoons.” I go into the dimly lit hall, shutting the door behind me. “Back to ye and Maisie. What’s going on?”
I can hear her anxiety in every word. “We came to a friend’s house for a party, one of the kids from school. I didn’t think it would get so boozy. Maisie’s had a few, I tried to stop her, I’m sorry! I should have done better but I had a glass of wine too and-”
“I’m coming to get ye,” I interrupt, tucking my shirt back in my dress pants and checking for blood splatter. There’s a spray ofit up my left sleeve, damn it. “Has someone been pushing up on ye?” I rip the shirt off, balling it up and throwing it in a trash can.
“Not at the moment,” she says apologetically. “I locked us in a bedroom. There’s some guys here, not nice people. I told them they were hitting on a MacTavish and they’d be missing an eye by midnight. That usually does the trick, but not this time.”
“This has happened before?” I pinch the brow of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.
“No!” Sophie exclaims. “Not like this, anyway. I’m really sorry. Can you pick us up? I’m sending you the address.”
Ian, my driver, stands up as I stride down the hall, following me.
“Sophie, what am I hearing?” There’s a clamor in the background and she groans.
“They’re pounding on the door- Hey, you assholes, get the hell out of here!” she roars. “Michael, the door’s locked, so we’re okay for now.”
For now?“Ye stay on with me until you hear me at the door, do ye understand?” I push through the swinging door at the back of the butcher shop we use on occasion. “What’s Maisie doing?”
“Um, she’s fine, I’ve got her head propped up,” she says. “Really, we thought it was just going to be our classmates. We didn’t know Boyd invited other people.”
“Are they still pounding on the door?” I slide into the passenger seat of my Maserati SUV, punching the address into the display screen and pulled out a clean shirt from a stash I keep in the back, buttoning it up swiftly.
Sophie’s shouting at the door. “You’re saying that with the confidence of a muchtallerman, you douchebag!”
“Good lass.” I wince as I hear the pounding on the door again. “Is there a dresser or something ye can push in front of the door?”
Ian takes a corner on two wheels. “Ten minutes.”
“Nice work,” I say as he passes six cars in a row. “Sophie?”
“I’m here.”
“We’re close. I’m in a black SUV.”
“The Maserati?”
A corner of my mouth quirks up. “Aye. How did ye know?”
“Oh, I just really like it,” she stammers. “You know. A Maserati. They’re so cool. Even if it’s an SUV. I mean, an SUV is good. It’s not like it’s a minivan or something. I’m just going to shut up now.”
Despite the seriousness of the moment, I have to stifle a laugh.
We pull up in front of a big brick Georgian-style house. Lights are blazing from every room and the lawn is cluttered with cars. The place is down a long driveway, separate from the rest of the upscale neighborhood, which is likely the only reason the Polis haven’t been called yet.
I’m shoving through the crowd, Ian at my back as I say, “Where are ye, lass?”
