“Clever girl.” The stranger had a thick Glaswegian accent. “If you’d just left everything here, it wouldn’t have come to this.”
“I’m sorry, Taran.” White flinched. “I owe him a great deal of money and … the pocket watch. It’s a real Patrice Pellier.An antique like the one you own could fetch between ten and twenty million at auction. On the black market, at least five to ten million.”
“Oh my God.” London gasped at my back as my head spun with this new information.
“You’re sure?” I demanded.
He nodded. “I studied it thoroughly.”
“And you told this guy!” I waved a hand at the threatening stranger. “Why?”
“Like I said, I owe him.”
“Mr. White has a bit of a habit. I’m his dealer. But I work for a larger organization, and let’s just say I don’t want to end up in prison for them. This watch is my escape and I’ve promised I’ll wipe out Mr. White’s debt.”
“He … he said he’d kill me otherwise. I’m sorry.”
Rage rushed through me. “You slimy bastard.”
Mr. White winced and lowered his eyes.
Coward.
“Drop the phone.” A gun appeared in the stranger’s hand, and my heart lurched in my throat as he pointed it at me.
No. Not at me.
I glanced back at London who was pale and trembling. She raised her hand that had her phone in it and dropped it where he could see.
“What are you doing with that gun?” Mr. White turned toward the stranger. “Pollock, you said nothing about terrorizing these women with a gun.”
“Don’t say my fucking name!” Pollock spat, gesturing with the weapon in White’s face.
The antiques dealer raised his hands defensively. “Okay, okay. Please calm down. You promised no one would get hurt.”
“And they won’t.” His cold blue eyes turned to me. “Where is that fucking watch?”
Something dangerous and reckless rushed through me at his demand. His entitlement to my family heirloom enraged me. “What did you think you would accomplish by kidnapping me in Oban?”
“Persuade you to tell me where the watch is.” He pointed the gun in my face. “Which is exactly what you’re going to do in ten seconds or I’m going to unload this gun into someone.”
At my silence, he began counting down.
“Seven, six—I will fucking shoot one of you—five, four, three, two, one.” Pollock sneered and then turned the gun to London. “Eenie”—then White—“Meenie”—London—“Minie… Mo.” The blast of the trigger was jarring as Edward White’s entire body jerked with the impact. His legs gave way and he collapsed, his head smacking off my sideboard.
He clasped dazedly at his stomach as blood seeped between his fingers.
London stifled a sob behind me.
“Think I’m bluffing now, bitch?” Pollock aimed the weapon at me.
My mind raced as panic attempted to take over logic, strategy. But I needed to focus. I had to keep London safe. She hadn’t escaped all that she’d survived in New York to be shot by a moronic thief.
“Everything is in a storage facility.” I raised my palms in surrender. “I’ll take you there. Now. If you promise to leave my friend alone.”
“How far away is this storage facility?”
Nowhere on this island was near enough to save him. What did he think would happen here? That he could hide on a small island after committing a crime? This was an idiot with a bloody gun. Even his attempt to kidnap me on Oban had been pathetic.
