Chapter Six
Kirk
I watch Gretchen's bonnie wee arse as she pushes through the glass doors and out into the car park.A shaoghail, that lass has a body made for a man like me---curvy, strong, and supple.The fire in her eyes whenever she insults me only serves to convince me that I must have myslatinside her again ASAP.Gretchen wants me, that much is obvious.She loves my cock.Couldn't get enough of it, actually.
Letting her walk away was a strategic move.
Seducing her again shouldn't be difficult.
As I nibble on the last remnants of Gretchen's meal, I find myself daydreaming about her body, that erotic voice, and essentially every last bloody thing about her.How will I seduce her if she won't go along with my master plan?I do have mates who might be able to assist me in my quest to find the woman I need to shag.He's a fellow Scotsman and a tech wizard.
The laddie's name is Archie MacIver, and he's the best ethical hacker in the Highlands.The laddie keeps odd hours, but he owes me a favor.I once rescued him from a stag night gone spectacularly awry in Portree involving a miniature horse and two litres of Buckfast, a caffeinated tonic wine.Archie answers his mobile on the first ring, which means he's awake and busy with who knows what.
"MacIver here," he says, in his usual cheerful voice.Archie sounds like a teenage laddie, because he is just such a laddie.Archie is nineteen years old.
"It's Kirk Balfour," I explain."I need a deep-dive on an American, Gretchen Carver.Maybe see what else you can dig up on her job in Gatlinburg, too.She's a virtual assistant.Also give me information any potential suiters."
After a pause, he ask, "We're stalking the lasses now, are we, Kirk?"
"I am not stalking any---" I glance around, just to be sure."It's, ah, recon.She's a suspect in a theft, of sorts."
"Of sorts?"He laughs."Whatever ye say, Kirk.Should I check the FBI or MI6?Is she a fugitive?"
I growl softly."Gretchen is not an outlaw, yecacan."
"You're no fun," Archie sighs.I can picture the laddie---hair sticking in every direction, thumbs flying over a gaming controller even as he hacks databases for honorable reasons."I'll email you anything interesting by midnight.And Kirk?"
"Aye?"
"Is she hot?"
Oh, aye, Gretchen is the hottest woman any man could hope to meet, but I do not kiss and tell, or shag and tell."I need those results on my desk faster than you once drank an entire bottle of Irn Bru without taking a breath as a dare.Vile rot, that stuff, if you ask me.Only lasses like it."
"Not true, Mr.Grumpy.My uncle Niven loves the stuff."
I snort."That proves my point."
Archie cackles like a loon and hangs up.Laddies these days.I can't understand them.
As I head for my brother's bakery, drive a wee bit too fast, strictly to ensure Tam hasn't already heard about my lunchtime spat with Gretchen.If Tam finds out before I tell him myself, I'll be eating month-old Dundee cake for supper.That's my brother's favorite saying that he invented himself.After chastising me for not answering my mobile last night, Tam urges me to "hunt down the lass with hounds if necessary."
On my way home, I drive past the Thane Buchanan Distillery and pull off the road to admire the way the mist rises from waters along the River Ashray.The MacTaggarts had christened the river with that name last year."Ashray" is what medieval Scots used to call the fairies that supposedly live in the vicinity.The story is pure nonsense, but the lasses do seem to like it.
Maybe I should tell Gretchen about the river.
First, I need to find the lass.Or rather, Archie needs to find her for me.The laddie's way of doing things is the antithesis of my lifestyle.He's very clever and careful, whereas I am bullheaded and love danger.It's in my blood.
Finding Gretchen seems to be taking a bloody long time.
Archie's "deep dive" email lands in my inbox at precisely 11:56 p.m., and the laddie's language is far too cheerful for such a late hour.Still, I'm impressed he accomplished his task so quickly, rather than taking days to find the information.
The summary at the top of the message is succinct: "American-born, virtual assistant, high academic achievement, moderate social media use, penchant for obscure medieval wine memes.No criminal record, but one memorable all-night protest at the Smithsonian.No evidence of current romantic entanglement unless you count the 2,147 Instagram posts she liked featuring a ginger cat named Big Boy."
I don't care whether she loves cat memes or if she owns ten of the little beggars who sleep in her bed all night.She's here with me in Scotland, and I have no intention of giving up on the lass.Gretchen will come around to my way of doing things.Mark my words.
Below the summary, Archie has added bullet points as well as searchable tags, and even a timeline of Gretchen's transatlantic movements.He's also included several meme attachments---for entertainment, I assume.I notice one with Gretchen's face pasted over the Mona Lisa.Theamadaneven spliced a gif of my own mug into a scene from Braveheart, under the caption "Freedom to Stalk."
Oh aye, he is a joker.That's whatamadanmeans, after all.
