“The wishing well, to meet Michael.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ian grumbled, shoving his feet into his boots. “She cannae be that daft to go meet a killer in the middle of the night by herself.”
“She doesn’t think he’s a killer,” Betty explained, as if one crazy comment would explain everything.
Ian followed Betty out of the house and to her SUV. He fired off several texts to Ryker about where they were headed, in the event none of them walked away alive. He didn’t even have a gun. He didn’t have his damn swords. He didn’t have anything besides his bare hands to fight with.
“If she’s in danger, then he’s really the killer, isnae he?”
Betty took a curve doing forty, not even slowing down as she sped through the streets. Ian grabbed onto the handle above the door, trying to steel himself against being broken and battered before they even got to the fight.
“No, he’s not. But the killer is watching them. He’s going to make his move.”
“You saw all this in a premonition?”
She glanced at Ian. “Something like that. Ian, I have to know that you’ll do whatever is necessary to save her.”
Ian glanced at Betty. “You know I will, so why are you asking that?”
“You’ll be hurt,” she answered.
“I donnae care about me. Will she still be alive?”
Betty nodded. “Only you can save her.”
“Aye. I’ll save her.” From herself. After he found her, he was taking her to Scotland and locking her away in his castle.
“She won’t like being locked away,” Betty said, slowing outside a forested area.
“You’re a mind reader, too?”
“Too?” Betty asked.
“Forget I said anything.” Ian got out of the SUV and glanced around the wooded area. He waited for Betty to point out the way before he took off in a jog in the same direction. He had no idea what the hell he was running into, but he’d handle whatever was at the other end.
Becca steppedout of her hiding spot but didn’t make a move to get any closer. “Why are we connected?”
He slowly turned around and hopped up onto the well to sit. He raised his hands to show that he wasn’t holding any weapons. Only then did the butterflies in her belly slowly start to give way. “I’m not sure, but I always knew it was you.”
“Is that why you kill women who looked like me? Are you tired of sharing our premonitions?”
His brows dipped, and he frowned. “I haven’t killed anyone. I was framed.”
“I don’t understand.” She took a tentative step into the clearing and then paused. “Those girls died, and I saw the premonitions.”
“You saw the same thing I did, but not because I was the one committing the crime, although I know who’s responsible.”
“Who?”
Michael hopped off the well onto the ground. “It’s a long story.”
“Make it short,” she answered and stepped back.
“Did you figure out we’re related yet?”
“You knew?”
He nodded. “Danny and I overheard Betty when she came my parents’ house all those years ago.”
