Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
She comes to a stop and turns to me, pointing eagerly at the boot. When I don’t get there fast enough, she slams her palm on the hood. What the bloody hell?
I stare at her in confusion, wishing she could actually tell me what was going on. She shakes her head, and points to the boot of the car.
“You want me to open it?”
She nods so vigorously her hair flops all around. My heart gives a great lurch. She knows something I don’t.
She wasn’t running from me.
It’s locked, of course, but I finally break it open. My heart comes to a stop at the sight of Paisley, gagged and bound in the back of the boot.
“Jaysus!”
I lift her, remove her gag, and demand, “Are you alright, lass? Where’s Islan?”
“She’s with Fiona. We split in town, she’s alright, I hope. I know Lachlan doesn’t leave Fiona without a guard in place. I went off with Fran, Fran went to do something at the bookstore, and the next thing I knew I was bound and gagged and dragged here. It was a setup, Leith, the whole thing was a setup.”
"What was, Paisley?"
"The date that I had, all those footballers… no one knows who they were.”
“I know that. That’s why we’re here in town, lass, to make sure we find the buggers responsible for hurting you.”
“You won't find them. They've disappeared, maybe they were even college student looking for a dime. They weren't from around these parts.”
“But are you okay?”
She nods. “Aye.” Her voice trembles. “I want to go home.”
Why did they put her here and how did Cairstina know it? Are they coming back for her?
“Leith!” I start at the sound of a female voice yelling my name in warning, and duck just in time to see Jimmy bloody Aitkens swinging a fucking pipe at my head.
I duck, not ready for a bloody fight, but I'll do what I have to if he had anything to do with hurting Paisley.
He’s still caught in the end of a swing when I duck and bring him to the ground, quickly gaining the upper hand.
“Jimmy Aitkin. Were you the one that came for my sisters?"
“You know I bloody was,” he says with a grin. “Lost a man in the cemetery few weeks ago, Cowen.” He tips his head to the side. "Do you know anything about that?"
I growl at him, but don't say a word. I'm still not going to give it up. I want him to wonder. I want him waiting for me in the middle of the night. I want him afraid.
"What claim do you have against my sisters?"
"You bloody well know what I do. Get off.”
Do I know? I keep my face impassive.
He glares. “Your father promised your sister in marriage to my Clan when she was ten years old. And she goes off and opens her bloody legs for a fucking footballer.”
I grab his weapon and swing it toward the cemetery. “Get up, and if you try anything fucking funny, I’ll kill you.” I yank him to his feet.
He’s lying. There’s no way my father promised such a thing to the Aitkens, and I know now that Aitkens tricked Paisley. My father never told me anything about an arranged marriage. If we would arrange anyone in marriage, it would be with the south. Would've been with someone from the McCarthy Clan.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t fucking know that, hmm?” Aitkens shakes his head. “Jaysus. Don’t the right hand know what the left hand is doing?”
He has to be lying. There's no bloody way he's telling the truth. No way. But I don't exactly trust my father right now, not after what he did to Cairstina today.
“So this will go easy for you, Leith. Give me your sister, and everyone goes home unharmed, see?”
I draw in a breath, remembering the pistol in my vest, ready to draw it, when Aitkens shakes his head. “But you know what? I’ll let you go on a warning. Give me this pretty little lass for my own, and we call this all off.”
“Not on your fucking life.” I grab Cairstina’s hand and drag her over to me. “She’s fucking mine.”
“Well, then,” he continues with a sick grin. “Do I mean to take it that you won’t follow through with your father's plans, then?"
“You can bet your bloody arse on it.”
A car comes tearing down the street, and screeches to a halt in front of the church.
“Jimmy.” The man driving looks white as a sheet. “We have to go. It’s yer mum.” He looks from Jimmy to me and back to Jimmy. “You have to go. Now.”
Aitkens turns to me and points a finger in my direction. “This isn’t fucking over, Cowen.”
I stare at him, my hands on my hips. “You bet your arse it isn't." He hops in the passenger seat, gets in the car, and takes off.