By the time we've devoured every bit of food Gretchen has set out for us, we're so relaxed that all we want to do is sit on the sofa and relax.No talking, just...being together.
A heavy hand pounds on the front door.
"Who's there?"I demand.
"Dougal MacWraith, of course."
A chill slithers down my spine.I'm not afraid of Dougal, but I dinnae like it when he turns up at my flat.He must want to annoy me, that's all, or issue vague threats.He's bloody good at doing that.
"Open the door, Balfour," Dougal calls out."If you don't do it, I will."
"Fuck off, MacWraith."
Gretchen aims her wide eyes at me."What if he's got his goons with him?"
I have no chance to respond to her question.
The sound of a key being turned spurs me to hiss in Gretchen's ear, "Go into the bedroom and lock the door.Put some clothes on too.Do it now."
She obeys my command instantly, disappearing into the bedroom.I pull on a pair of sweatpants just as Dougal pushes the door open.
"There you are, Kirk."He twirls a keyring round and round his finger."Now you know that I can find you and your lass whenever and wherever I like.There's nowhere to hide."
Mhac na galla.I will murder Dougal now.
Chapter Thirty-One
Gretchen
Whatever's going out there, I'm positive it's a bad, bad, bad thing.I mean, Dougal MacWraith is here, so it must be horrible news.I try like hell to avoid letting on that I'm freaking out on the inside despite the fact no one will hear me since I'm hiding in the bedroom.Dougal gives me the willies---the supercharged version.I wish I had a gun or a knife or, jeez, even a wrench would do.Kirk might have supernatural stunt-man skills, but all I have is the basic computer skills any virtual assistant might acquire.
Kirk ordered me to hide in the bedroom.
Screw that.
I'll be damned if I'm going to cower in the bedroom while an evil bastard threatens Kirk.Instead, I throw on Kirk's discarded shirt, which hits me at mid-thigh, and a pair of underwear.Not exactly battle armor, but it's better than facing the enemy naked.When I march back into the living room, both men whirl around to look at me.Kirk's face darkens with fury, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes.Not fear for himself, I realize with a jolt, but for me.
Dougal MacWraith is standing in the living room, twirling that damn key.
"Ah, and here she is," Dougal drawls."The lovely Gretchen.I was beginning to think Balfour was keeping you in the closet."
I set my hands on my hips and adopt an attitude that I hope will impress the slimy piece of garbage."What do you want, MacWraith?"
He sniffs derisively."Ahmno talking to a lass.This is a man's conversation."
A man's what?Ohh, I would love to sock him in the jaw.But I'd probably just hurt my hand and cause him not even a whiff of pain."Is your pissing match over yet?Or should I order some Chinese food?"
"Haud yer wheesht," Dougal snarls at me."That means keep your bloody mouth shut, woman."
My jaw drops.Did he seriously tell me to shut up in Scottish?The sheer audacity of this guy makes my blood boil.I take a step forward, but Kirk throws his arm out, blocking my path.
"Dinnae speak to her like that," he snarls at Dougal."And get the fuck out of my flat."
The evil bastard smirks, seeming entirely too comfortable standing here in someone else's living room."Still hiding behind your brawn rather than your brain, I see.Some things never change."
I can feel Kirk tensing up beside me, like a predator preparing to pounce.The tension in the room feels like an electric current.
"What do you want?"Kirk demands again.
