Page 11 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

Catriona…

I’m hallucinating. I must be.

Because Lucas Stewart, tall and terrifying in his black tactical suit, canna be bursting into my lab, heavily armed and looking like the God of War here to tear this castle apart.

“Lucas…” I canna think of what to say, crouched on the floor in my dirty lab coat.

“We are going, Cat.” He says it precisely, firmly, like how he used to talk to me in dangerous situations. He reaches down, pulling me up and wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders.

“Wait- I can download more-”

“My team is barely holding the perimeter,” he interrupts. “I’ve got to get ye out of here.”

“Understood,” I shove the flash drive in my pocket. “Let’s go. ”

The elaborate stained-glass windows lining the hall are cracked or shattered with bullet holes.

As we race down a stairway I’ve not seen before, narrow, and dark, I can see a huge chunk of the wall in the kitchen has crumbled into dust. Most of the guards are outside and the noise of the gunfire is making my eardrums bulge ominously.

“Kyle, the asset’s acquired,” Lucas is speaking into his mic, “get out of the castle. Any sign of Dubois?”

“No,” a voice crackles back, loud enough for me to hear it, “and I’ve been looking for the bastard. Shite- I’ve got action.”

The gunfire outside is too loud to hear anything else but Lucas’s face tightens. “Dinnae engage unless ye must, get out.”

We’re on the first floor and he’s pulling me toward a door on the east side of the castle, an area I’ve not been in before.

It hits me how little of the castle I was allowed to see.

This is ridiculously opulent, pillars slathered in gold and silver gilt and several enormous paintings, some I recognize as reported stolen from the Louvre a few years ago.

There’s fewer bullet holes and less destruction here and most of the fight sounds like it’s on the other side of the castle.

“Kyle, sound off.” Lucas is grim, sweeping the hallway as we race through, listening to the static in his headpiece.

There’s one answer that crackles back and he sucks in a deep breath.

“Good, get to the meeting point. Team, I have the asset. Continue suppressing fire for three minutes and retreat.”

We round the corner and nearly run into two guards who look just as shocked to see us as we are to see them.

They bring their guns up, but Lucas is faster, spraying them both with bullets.

They drop like wet sacks of meat onto the gold-laced marble floor and my silly high-heeled leopard print boots slip on their blood.

“Wait!” I gasp. “The smaller one, I need his boots. I canna run in these.”

Lucas growls, looking at his watch and hands me his knife. “We’ve got thirty seconds.”

I’m proud to say that even with my hands shaking something fierce, I’ve got the laces cut at the knot and loose enough to yank the boots off the dead man’s feet, hauling them onto mine in my allotted time.

Lucas pulls off my stupid ornamental footwear, helping me get the heavier ones on. They’re too big, but they’ll do.

A new round of gunfire echoes down the hall and we’re off again, racing for the enormous, elaborate doors leading to freedom. Lucas hits the handles and locks with another spray of bullets, sending the doors flying open and we’re into a little courtyard, the golden stone bright under the moon.

“Asset is out of the house, meet us-”

There’s an enormous explosion that rattles the windows, a ball of fire rolling up from a spot on the mountainside above us. “Abort, abort!” Lucas snaps. “Extraction point is gone, make your way out on one of the secondary routes- go!”

There’s a painful burst of static and he winces, pulling the headpiece out of his ear. “Cat, we’re changing course, I need ye to run as fast as ye can, keep-”

“Keep my head down, aye, I know.” Like I dinnae know this shite? Not the time to remind him. I duck my head and dig my heels in, racing for the low wall ahead of us. He hauls me up by the waist, sending me over the barrier before easily leaping over it himself.

“Two trip lines ahead,” he says, shooting a camera mounted on a tree, sending it flying in a shower of sparks. He slides his night vision goggles on, scanning the area. “Let’s go.”

We dodge and run, bushes scraping my legs in the ridiculous fecking skirt Dubois forced me to wear. At one point, Lucas pulls me into a grouping of trees and drapes an aluminum blanket over us.

“Drones,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m sure they have thermal imagining.” Two huge ones soar over us in a grid pattern, red lights blinking.

We’re pressed together, my breasts against his chest and his breath soft in my ear. He’s got his arm around my waist, hand splayed against my lower back protectively.

My eyes close, pushing against the swell of emotion. Lucas still smells like the forest back home and old leather. He’s warm, so warm and it’s always been comforting when you’ve been raised in chilly Scotland.

“Let’s go.”

His mouth is right next to my ear, I can feel his lips moving against my skin… Straightening my spine, I step back. “Aye, I’m ready.”

We keep running into the dark forest, sporadic bursts of gunfire and an occasional explosion lighting the night sky.

Two hours later…

“We need to take a break,” Lucas says.

Lying bastard, he’s not even breathing hard. But my stolen boots are rubbing blisters into my heels and I’m grateful for a break.

“Here, have a seat.” He points out a big boulder and I slump down in relief. My skirt’s in tatters and I know he can see clear up to my knickers, but he keeps his gaze on my feet. “I’ve got some socks, and we can tighten these laces. How do ye feel?”

He’s taking items from his backpack, pulling my boots off gently and checking my heels, his mouth tight.

“It’s fine, Lucas. They dinnae hurt. The socks will feel grand, though.” He still dinnae look happy, but the man always got the sour face when I was the slightest bit uncomfortable. The memory hurts my heart and I push it away. “How are ye here? What happened?”

He looks up briefly and the moonlight hits his eyes, a beautiful pale, silvery gray color, like a gull’s wing. “Your father called me when you were taken. I’ve been searching for ye ever since. Your mother had to hold the Chieftain down to keep him from coming on this rescue mission.”

I huff out a little laugh. “Sounds like Da. Where’s the rest of your team?”

His hands tighten on my boot laces before he forces them to relax. “Dubois’ men hit our extraction site, the ATVs and all our equipment are gone, including my satellite phone. The rest of the men will spread out and find one of the other escape routes we set.”

“Ye always liked having a backup plan or two,” I nod approvingly. “How can we reach my family for help? Will the other team members be able to contact them?”

Grief creases his face. “I lost one of my men. Morris.”

“I remember ye talking about him, from the service, aye? I’m so sorry.” I touch his arm, squeezing gently.

Lucas composes himself back into the aloof, expressionless bodyguard I remember.

“With everyone scattered and no communication, I canna be sure who got out. As for us, I canna use my cellphone until we get to a big enough town to conceal it. Dubois is going to be tracking the cell towers for calls out. In a region with so little population, triangulating our position would be too easy.”

“Well then…” I rise from the boulder, turning in a circle. It’s all deep forest, the trees crowding together high enough to block most of the night sky. “We walk, aye?”

He's running his hand through his hair, and I can see he's grown it out a bit, just long enough to curl slightly.My fingers tingle, wanting to run through all those curls.

"If I’d known we’d be hiking out, I would have picked a different direction. We’ve got three or four days of hard terrain ahead.”

“Well…” I straighten my shoulders, I’m strong, a MacTavish. “I dinnae think ye had much of a ch oice on the direction. We’d best get started.”

The path is littered with enormous rocks and fallen trees, and there’s a lot of scrabbling and climbing involved. “How did ye find me in the lab?” I need a distraction, and though Lucas never says much, he’s gonna talk me through this.

“I sent one of my men up to the hall with the most bedrooms and the panic room, thinking they’d try to drag ye in there first.” He smiles at me briefly, “I had a feeling, though, that ye might be in the labs.”

“Well, Dubois did send two guards to get me from my bedroom.” I grin happily, remembering their look of shock. “Once I heard the gunfire, I knew it was a rescue. I had to get to the lab and download everything I could about C-1161.”

“C-1161? What is that?”

“A brilliant new poison that rat bastard is working on.” I give an unladylike grunt, clambering over the next boulder.

“He kidnapped me to create the antidote. Fortunately, he’s been working on it for some time, so the research gave me an edge.

But I canna do it without the formula for the actual poison. ”

“Dubois, that son of a bitch, I’ll be going back for him.” He spits on the ground. “How did ye get out of your room?”

“I hid behind the door and punched one guard in the larynx with a big fancy platter when he came rushing in, and then shot the other one with his gun.” I’m grinning, and then so is he.

“Ye cunning wee vixen.” Lucas shakes his head, laughing. “I dinnae need to rescue ye at all, ye could have skipped out the front door with combat skills like those.”

“I did appreciate the assistance.” I give him a haughty nod, and he keeps laughing. It sounds good to hear it again.

We hike through the rest of the night, hiding under trees every time a drone buzzes over. We can hear the faint sounds of a helicopter, but it dinnae come close.

It’s noon, the sun high overhead when Lucas finally insists on stopping. “We’ve got some good concealment here. Ye try to sleep a bit.”

It is a good spot, craggy granite cliffs on one side, hovering over a stream and the forest, thick with trees on the other. “I dinnae need it.” I fold my arms. “I can hike ‘till nightfall. The more distance between us and the castle the better, aye?”

I can tell he’s keen to argue with me, but he nods reluctantly, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his torn sleeve.

“I’ve got some protein bars, let’s take a break, at least.” Rooting through his backpack, he hands me one.

“Our one advantage here is that these mountain streams are pristine. Drink as much as ye can, it’ll help. ”

“Where’s the closest town that’s large enough to safely make a call?” I’m trying to remember everything I know about Morocco, which sadly, isn’t much.

He’s drinking from the water bottle and it’s making my insides clench. His strong, tanned throat, his shirt, open just enough to see the outline of a tattoo. I was always irritated that while we were both Scottish, he could tan and I simply blotched from the sun.

“Ourika Valley,” he wipes his forearm across his mouth. “If we make good time, we can make it in two or three days.”

Shifting, I feel my feet bitterly complaining. “Then let’s keep moving, aye?”

Lucas helps me up, standing close to me and so tall that he blocks the sun. “How are you feeling? Are ye sure ye dinnae want to rest?”

Bitter, angry Catriona surges up. He dinnae get to be concerned about me. He fecking left.

“I’m fine.” Pulling away, I march toward the stream.

Despite my belief that I’m in kick-arse shape, I’m wheezing like a geriatric who lost their walker by the time we stop for the night. Lucas has been eyeing me with concern and it’s making me crabbit.

“I saw a lot of Zemmouri rabbit tracks downstream.” He’s screwing a silencer on to his gun. “I won’t be long.”

Waving a hand at him, I nod, focusing on trying to stay upright. “Grand.”

***

Crabbit - Scottish slang for pissed off, or cranky.