Page 28 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

In which there is fish and chips and girl talk.

Catriona…

“Feck. Feckity fecking feck feck feck!”

Slamming my hands against the counter, I push my wheeled stool back.

“There’s a lass who’s done in, scunnered.” Kenna strolls in, plopping a big bag of takeaway on my desk.

“This fecking antidote…” I irritably roll up my hair into a sloppy bun, skewering it with a thin glass thermometer. “Even with all the research and trials I stole from Dubois, I canna get it right. I thought I could do it, I was so close when I was back at the castle…”

“You and Lucas have only been back in town for two weeks or so.” She takes a box of fish and chips out of the bag, handing it to me. “Must I remind ye that Rome wasn’t built in a day?”

“Must I remind ye that Rome could fall in a day if this poison gets out?” Pulling off my gloves, I eye my fingers dubiously. “I should probably wash my hands.”

“Ye work in a laboratory full of deadly poisons, ye eejit! Aye, go wash your hands!”

When I need a good round of whinging, I call Kenna. She’s my closest cousin in age and possessed with supernatural powers when it comes to helping me sort myself out.

She patiently waits until I’ve gobbled my way through most of my chips and some of hers before asking, “Really, now. How are ye doing?”

“Fine.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ there.” She hands me a water bottle.

“Like a shark senses blood, ye are,” I say sourly.

“I canna help if my training and natural genius allows me to tunnel deep into the souls of my fellow man. Let’s start with your new life as Mrs. Lucas Stewart.”

“Hmph. Maybe he’s taking on the mantle of Mr. Lucas MacTavish, have ye thought of that?

” Finishing my halibut, I move on to the fried Snicker’s bar.

No reason to worry about my cardiovascular health.

If I canna get this antidote sorted, I’m sure Dubois will go after my family first with a dose of his fancy new C-1161, the spiteful cow .

Kenna howls with laughter. “Not that man. I was there when he turned Uncle Cormac down. Your Da was all emotional and shite and telling him any position he wanted was his. Lucas very politely told him to bugger off.”

“No!”

“Aye, Uncle Cormac was a bit gobsmacked, especially when Lucas told him he was opening a private security firm.” Grinning evilly, she leans closer. “Ye want to know the best part?”

“Aye?” I’m motionless, the fried Snicker’s bar melting down my arm.

“Lucas has already poached three of the best guards from the MacTavish security division.” She slaps her leg, howling with laughter. “Kai told me they all came to Lucas, asking for a position with him. Uncle Cormac is fair, he canna begrudge them the opportunity.”

“Ye know I love Da, but he deserves this. Lucas is a proud man. He served his country, he served our family, but he’s past that now.

He wants to create something of his own.

” I’m gleeful and not sorry for it, even if it is at my father’s expense.

“Though I’m surprised he dinnae tell me any of this. ”

“Between christening every flat surface in that charming cottage of his and your lab work, I dinnae think there’s been much time for conversation.” She’s desperately trying to smother a laugh and fails.

“Oh, my god, stop!” I groan into my dessert.

“Ach, please, hen. With the BDE Lucas radiates like a beacon of sin, I knew he had to be legendary in the sack,” Kenna continues, enjoying my embarrassment.

“Hush it!” I snap. “We’re not talking about my husband’s dick size!”

“Back to business.” Kenna finally changes the subject. “How close are ye on this antidote?”

“When I was right there, in Dubois’ custom lab-”

“That mangled apricot hellbeast!” Kenna snarls.

“I was making mad progress. There’s a molecular deficiency in my current formula and if I had access to that lab…”

Piling all the scraps in the takeaway box, I dust the crumbs off the desk. “I couldn’t download the full formula for the poison, C-1161, before Lucas got me out. I’m missing a couple of compounds, I know that’s why my trials are failing.”

She takes a deep breath. “What are ye saying?”

There’s a rap on the door and Lucas is there with a bag from Real Foods Grocery and I know it’s full of organic delights.

He looks disapprovingly at our fried rubble, “Ach, I thought I’d bring by lunch, knowing ye have not had a bite since breakfast, which was…

” He pointedly consults his watch, “Ten hours ago?”

“She told me to get the fish and chips!” Kenna instantly throws me under the bus and then backs it over me.

“I told her she needed to take better care of herself.” Throwing me a kiss, she hurries out of the lab.

“We will be finishing this conversation tonight, aye? Lots to walk through, I’m certain. ”

“What’s that about?” Lucas slides his hand into my hair, giving me a long, lingering kiss with lots of tongue. He still tends to be somewhat formal with others around, but when we’re alone, he’s tender and loving.

When he’s not being sexy and bossy as feck.

“We were talking about the trials for the antidote.” I rub my cheek against his rough hand. “I bolloxed another one. It’s driving me mad.”

“You’ll get it.” He gives me another kiss. “What can I do to help?”

“Says the man buried under a mountain of paperwork, bullets and overly-muscled military types.”

There’s a silvery sheen to my husband’s eyes when he gets turned on, and they’re practically glowing right now. “Never too busy to service my bride.”

I love this part of him.

We’ve settled into a little routine at home, running together in the morning before he delivers me to the lab, where my new bodyguard is waiting.

I still do my weight lifting and yoga at the fancy new MacTavish club.

But running time is just for us, no phones, no cousins, or guards clamoring for our attention.

Just digging our heels into the sand, breathing in the salt-tinged air and skirting the clumps of sea grass…

It’s something I never knew I wanted, and now it’s something I would never want to let go.

He cooks sometimes, or his mother pops in and out like some kind of super maternal ghost with prepared meals. And damn her, Kenna is correct. In every spare moment, we’re going at each other like rabid badgers.

Sometimes, it’s soft. He's so caring about my back and making sure he dinnae hurt me. Other times, though, like last night, he had me spread out on the kitchen counter, tied up with his belt and eating me out for dinner instead of the lamb pie he’d made.

Lucas reaches around me, testing the lab table, pressing against me. His dark blue suit fits those broad shoulders so well… “How durable are these la b tables, my filthy girl?”

“Well, this particular table was designed to hold nearly two hundred kilograms,” I say sweetly. “I was working on some chemical armaments and ye know how heavy those metal weapons containers can be.”

“We should test that out.” His voice drops to a growl and everything below my waist is on fire.

“We really should.”

Aaaad then, his phone buzzes. The bad sounding buzz that means things are going to hell.

“Stewart.”

I canna hear it all, but the gunfire in the background is clear.

He’s got me off my stool and halfway out the door before I can blink. “Send extra men through the second service way. It’s hidden behind the dumpsters on the south end. Make sure the residents are out before ye let loose.” Hanging up the phone, he slides his arm around me, moving faster.

“Let’s have it.” I slap my hand on the biometric scanner, locking down the lab before we head for the elevator.

“Your building is under fire. There are drones sending mini grenades through the eight-floor windows. Your flat. ”

“It’s got to be Dubois.” My reflection in the mirrored door is pale as milk. “My cousins- all the MacTavish people-”

“Know what they’re doing, too,” he interrupts. “My people are joining the MacTavish force there. My first job is to get ye to safety.”

“I’m an excellent shot,” I say sharply. “Ye should know, ye trained me. We’re going there.”

“We are not going there.” He puts his arm around my waist and hauls me out of the elevator like a sack of flour. “We’re now into ‘protect the asset’ protocol. Follow it.”

“This is family!” I object angrily. “I have to-”

We’re on the top floor of the secured parking garage for the MacTavish Medical Division and thus have an excellent view of the helicopter swooping down on us, men already hanging out the doors and strafing the ground with bullets.

A car explodes behind us from the gunfire, flipping over on its roof.

“Never mind.” My lips are numb. “He’s bringing the fight to us.”

***

Done in scunnered - Scottish slang for being annoyed and frustrated.

Whinging - Scottish slang for bitching and moaning.