Page 30 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

In which Catriona throws herself on the sword.

Lucas…

Dubois tried to kidnap my wife.

Again.

That unhinged son of a bitch came after Cat again? I knew he was half-mad, but I’m upping that to seventy-five percent.

“I want to take ye home,” I murmur to her as Alex and Raul pretend not to listen. “There’s more to be said and done first. Are ye all right?”

There’s my girl. Cat rears back and glares at me. “Let’s have a brief recap, shall we? We’re in a firefight and ye were the one who got shot and you’re worried about my dainty state of being?”

Sliding my hand between the seat and her lower back, I rub it gently, feeling for twinges and stiffness. Her expression softens when she understands. “Ye hit the ground hard.”

Taking my hand, she puts it between both of hers. “I’m fine. Triple the guard on my lab, though, aye? For Dubois, getting my work is far more important than getting me. He’s trying to find out how far I’ve gotten.”

“It’s done.” I issue some low orders to Raul, who’s already on his phone.

If I thought the crowd to welcome Cat home was a wee bit much, it’s nothing compared to the full-on operation at the MacTavish mansion now. Double security, surveillance drones, every corner of the grounds patrolled by guards bristling with weaponry. I nod approvingly. Good work.

Just what I would have done.

Michael opens the car door. “You’re mighty popular for a newlywed, sis. I’m thinking Dubois dinnae get the news?”

“Ye know the man’s the first one in history who wants me for my brain,” she says. “He dinnae care about my marital status.” Michael and I bookend her, marching her into the building. “I dinna think my French stalker will swoop down from the sky like an eagle and carry me away, husband.”

I discreetly kiss her hand. She’s trying to recover from the stress of the gunfight with sarcasm. That’s my lass.

All the heads of the MacTavish family that are available are assembled in the Chieftain’s office, and Mala squeezes Cat hard. “You’re okay, sweetheart?”

“Fine, Mum. Grand. Lucas was picking me up just as the attack started.”

“That man has some uncanny timing, and a preternatural awareness of all things you.” Mala smiles at her fondly. “Ah, it looks like your father’s ready to start, let’s sit down.”

As we do, the entire dynamic in the room suddenly shifts.

While the Chieftain seats himself at the head of the table, and after pulling out a chair for Cat, I take the seat at the other end, facing him head on. It’s a position Cameron usually takes as second in command. However, he smiles slightly and pulls out the chair on the other side of Cat.

“Dubois has been busy this afternoon. While he’s been golfing with the Vice President of Chile for a well-documented alibi,” I click the remote and the big monitor lights up.

“His team attacked your residential building and attempted to kidnap my wife. He’s a multi-tasker, that one.

He also created a display for his potential buyers with the new poison. ”

The scene is horrifying. A compound littered with bodies, at least twenty. Most are curled up and more than one MacTavish at the conference table has to look away for a moment.

“The poison, C-1161, sends the human body into severe muscle spasms in the final moments before death,” Cat says numbly.

“It operates like strychnine in that way.” She’s examining the video, jaw tight.

I know she’s trying to force herself to stay detached so she can explain.

“Dubois is showing off for his buyers, but it’s also a warning. ”

“In what way?” Cormac asks.

“He’s telling us that he’s prepared to let it loose, even without the antidote.” I think of the bare minimum she was willing to tell me about that bastard poisoning her at dinner for ‘a fun little exercise.’ “What these people went through…” She looks at me. “Were they civilians?”

“No. It’s an Albanian group that’s been giving the Orlov Bratva some trouble,” I say. “The Pakhan , Vasily Orlov, would have no compunction about using poison on his enemies.”

“I know you’ve been working night and day on this antidote,” Cormac says, “what can ye tell us?”

Cat rubs her eyes wearily. “C-1161 can be transmitted orally, in addition to epidermal contact or inhalation. What’s stopping me is finding the compound that could disable the poison with all three methods of application.”

“If the poison is dispersed, how long is it active?” Mala asks.

“Once the poison is in the host, the threat is greatly reduced to anyone nearby,” Cat explains.

“It will go inert on surfaces, dissipate in water, and dissolve out of the air within two minutes or less. However, that’s if a tiny amount is used.

For a large amount, like a stockpile, I’m not sure how that would change it. ”

“My first intention was to kidnap Dubois,” I say.

“Simply hold him until all the compounds were destroyed and then I’d cut his-” Not the time for revenge fantasies.

“He’s surrounding himself with high-ranking officials.

Trying to go that route would mean convincing someone powerful enough to issue an arrest warrant for him.

Of course, once they do, he’ll simply leave the country.

I dinnae have enough proof to convince French officials that he’s a direct threat. ”

“There’s only one thing to do.” Cat looks at me, her expression impassive. “I have to let him kidnap me again.”

“Never.”

My words whiplash around the room, slicing through the shocked silence.

“Here it comes,” sighs Duncan and Wallace gives a low whistle.

“Catriona-” says Mala .

“There’s no fecking way-” from Michael.

“Are ye out of your mind?” Cormac sputters.

I say nothing more, staring at my wife who just offered to give herself to a madman.

“It’s the only way.” She’s watching the monitor, at the sad remains of the bodies.

“I canna finish here. Maybe, with six months more and unlimited resources. But without the full formula for C-1161, I’ll never get it created in time.

The ‘beauty,’ ” she says viciously, “of this compound is that it canna be replicated because it leaves no trace.”

“That will never happen.” My self-control is slipping in the face of her stubbornness. “Ye think ye can go into the belly of the beast and come back out? He will kill ye. With one of his poisons, likely. Just a wee bit of a show.”

“Catriona-” Mala begins, and Cormac puts a gentle hand on her arm.

“Lucas. Catriona.” He locks eyes with me. “We’ll give ye some privacy.”

For a moment, no one knows what to do. Michael opens his mouth, clearly wanting to argue. Cormac’s brothers look at each other and rise, leaving the room. Michael is still seated and his cousin Wallace finally speaks.

“Come on. We’re going. ”

Cat watches her brother’s hands tighten into fists. “Go with Wallace.” He looks from Wallace to her with anguish before slowly standing and leaving the room.

The silence drags on for a minute before I snarl, “The answer is fecking no. Not ever. You’re mad to say it. Do ye have a martyr complex? How many times will ye put yourself in harm’s way before you’re finally killed?”

She takes a deep breath, holding it for a moment. “I want to yell at ye, tell ye that you’re projecting - which ye are - and that I’m not the only one in this room throwing themselves into harm’s way. Constantly.”

“This is different!” I thunder.

I’ve never raised my voice to Cat. Shouted instructions, aye. Never in a fury, though. Never angry.

“Because it’s me.” She smiles sadly, scooting her chair closer and taking one of my hands, curled into a fist, gently unfolding each finger until our hands are linked together. “If ye could make this antidote, would ye go? Would ye let Dubois take ye?”

I evade her question. “Ye nearly died once.” I look down at our hands, hers smooth and pale.

There’s a little burn on her left thumb from an experiment gone wrong.

I remember taking her to the doctor to get it cared for.

My hands are dark and calloused, scars on my knuckles from skin splitting open as I’d fight one battle after another.

“Aye. Dubois will take ye happily. He will force ye to finish the antidote. Then…” My fingers tighten and I force myself to relax. “What comes next, Cat? If I canna get to ye in time, what comes next? Torture, or mutilation? A long death where you’re grateful for the end?”

“I know you’re scared, sweetheart,” she says.

“The worst of all things, for ye. The unknown. Allowing your asset to be in harm’s way.

” A low groan rips from my chest. “Look at me, please?” I force myself to meet her teary-eyed gaze.

“If I dinnae do this, a lot of people will die. I will never forgive myself for knowing I could have stopped it.”

“Would ye rather me knowing for the rest of my useless existence that I could have stopped ye from this genuinely insane move and ye died, Cat?” My head drops, fury and hate and bone searing terror all fighting to get through the barriers I’d built for so long. The ones that kept me in control.

Cat strokes my hands for a moment, gentle touches while I force my breathing to slow.

“The only way this will work is if ye are my husband, and not my bodyguard. Ye will have to have faith in my ability to handle the worst,” she says gently.

“There’s no one better than ye in tracking me.

You’re the man who brought in a team of only ten and kicked the collective arses of over a hundred of Dubois’ men and ye found me.

Ye have the might of my family and the talents of your men.

“Believe me, I dinnae want to go. I just found ye again. I’m terrified that this is all the time I’ll have with ye. But there is no other way.”

Our hands are tightly clasped together. We’re still wearing the simple wedding rings I bought in the bazaar that day.

“No.” I choke out. I stand up. “No.”

I leave the room.