Read Deadly Intent (Linked Inc. Book 1) Online
Authors: Kate Allenton
“Reception is best outside, if you’re going to use your cell phone.”
“Thanks.” She picked up her uneaten biscuit and headed for the door, only pausing before she stepped out of the room. She turned back to face him. “I promise not to bring down any of your walls.”
“Donae promise what you cannae control, Quinn.”
“See, that’s the thing.” Her face brightened as she smiled. “Tearing down walls requires effort and will. I have neither, so I think your castle and you are safe.”
“Only time will tell.”
Collin watched Quinn through the kitchen window as he passed along Quinn’s compliments on the cooking. Mavis’ husband, Angus, stood beside Collin, watching as Quinn held her phone up to the sky, as if looking for the best reception.
“You dinnae tell her it was best near the cliffs?” Angus asked.
“Nay.” Collin inwardly smiled. “It’s best to keep an eye on her the entire time she’s here, and I cannae see her if she goes over there.”
“This woman is wise, no’ to mention fierce, bringing Ian to his knees. She’ll figure out the best place for reception and the curse.” Mavis chuckled, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron. “Did you ask her what Ramsey found?”
“How do you know what Ramsey found?” Collin asked, turning to face the white-haired woman who’d practically raised him.
“Nothing can get by that woman. She knows all.” Angus nudged his arm.
“Well, have you asked her about it?” Mavis asked, not answering where she heard the rumor.
“Nay,” Collin answered, turning back to find Quinn was walking out of sight toward the corner of the castle, in the exact direction of the cliffs. Damn woman.
“It’s probably wise you leave the wounded animal alone. We all have a past, and she’s apparently lost someone she loved. If she thinks you’re attacking her, you’ll likely find that her bite is worse than her bark. No reason to anger the lassie if you donae have to. I hear she’s already causing a stir with Margarete.”
“Aye, that she has.” Collin inwardly smiled, not wanting to let on that he whole-heartedly approved of Quinn’s method.
“Probably for the best you keep Ms. Thatcher close and warn her about Margarete. There’s nothing like a woman scorned on the verge of losin’ the trophy she’s been eyeing.”
“I think Quinn can take her.”
“I’d lay odds on your American.” Angus nudged Collin’s arm again. “She’s a fine lass, indeed.”
“That she is,” Collin answered, heading out the back door to hunt for Quinn.
He rounded the edge of the castle’s stone walls, expecting to find Quinn standing at the cliff’s edge with the phone pressed against her ear. The rocky cliffs were empty, not a soul in sight.
“Quinn,” he yelled out. His gaze searched the nearby forest as he moved closer.
“Help.”
He heard the faint cry over the sound of waves crashing against the rocks.
“Quinn. Where are you, lass?” he yelled louder. His heart pounded against his ribs as unease coursed through his veins. His boots pounded against the packed dirt as he ran toward the rocky ledge.
“I’m down here,” she called out.
He skidded to a stop, knocking a rock over the edge. The rock smacked her in the middle of the forehead as her fingers clung to one of the smooth boulders. Her body dangled over the edge.
“I thought you said that I’d make men fall, not that
I
would be the one falling.”
Collin lay down on his stomach and held out both hands. “I’m going to pull you up. Give me your hand, Quinn.”
She shook her head. “If I let go, I’ll fall.”
Her fingertips were turning as white as her cheeks. “I’m coming down.”
Hopping up from his position, he moved to sit on his rear and then eased down the rocky ledge until his foot found purchase on one of the larger boulders below. Wrapping his fingers around her arm for a firm grip, he lifted her and pulled her toward him until he had her tightly in his arms, refusing to let her go. Her racing heart pounded against his chest as she looked up into his eyes. Color started to return to her cheeks as he held her close.
“Thanks for saving me.”
“You donae strike me as someone who needs saving, lass.”
Glancing over her shoulder to the sharp rocks below, she trembled in his hold. “I’m normally not. I think Scotland might be bad for my health.”
“Let’s get you back on stable ground and you can tell me what happened.” Collin lifted her light body at the waist and hoisted her toward the ledge. Placing his hands on her gorgeous jean-covered ass, he eased her over the ledge before hoisting himself back up.
Quinn was lying with her arms and legs spread wide on the grassy knoll. Her chest rose and fell as she stared up at the forming clouds above. “I thought I was a goner.”
Collin sat down next to her. “No’ on my watch. You want to tell me how you ended up down there?”
“I must have slipped,” Quinn said, worrying her lip between her teeth. He could tell she was holding something back. She rolled toward him. “When you came out, you dinnae see anyone around, did you?”
“Nay.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said, getting to her feet. She peered over the edge. “That brings all new meaning to the phrase dead phone.”
Collin got to his feet and glanced over the edge. Her phone lay in pieces on another rocky ledge about ten feet down. “You can use the phone in my office to make your calls.”
“Thanks.” She patted his chest. “I guess that makes us even on one account.”
“What’s that?”
“I saved your life from Margarete’s advances, and a possible loveless marriage to a woman who would never truly appreciate you, and in return you saved mine.”
She gave a saucy wink and started back toward the castle. Was everything a joke to this woman? She’d almost died, and yet she was…optimistic. Most women would have been crying in his arms. Not Quinn, he was learning…Never Quinn.
Collin glanced back once more to the busted phone. If he hadn’t followed her, she’d potentially be dead on the rock. Maybe the curse had been wrong. He’d turned to leave when he saw something sparkling on the ground beneath the leaves. He squatted and moved the leaves and dirt away. A broach was poking out of the ground. Running the pad of his thumb over the stone revealed a ruby beneath the grime. He’d seen this piece before but couldn’t for the life of him remember where. How it had managed to be in that spot was yet another puzzle in a string of mysteries to solve.
Quinn was led into Collin’s office to make her calls. Leaning back against the wood doors, she rested her scraped hands against her knees, trying to slow her racing heart as blood pounded in her temples. Her annoyance spiraled when she noticed her hands and arms shaking. Her fall hadn’t been an accident like she’d let Collin believe. She hadn’t slipped or lost her balance. That had been a real hand pressed against her back, giving her a tiny shove in hopes of giving her an untimely demise. Someone with a heartbeat and body had tried to push her over the edge. Anger stirred in her belly with renewed fire. She clenched her jaw as her chest tightened. They didn’t know who they were dealing with, but with a little help, they’d soon find out.
She rounded the desk and sat in Collin’s worn leather chair. It was cool to the touch and smelled of mink oil and saddle soap, like the one in her father’s study. The furniture in Collin’s office matched the rest of the house, solid with class and a little hint of manly added to the mix. Quinn picked up the phone and dialed. Her sister, Cara, answered on the first ring.
“How’s Scotland?”
“It’s trying to kill me,” Quinn answered.
“The country?”
“Yeah, but never mind that. Johnny has the measles, so we’re stuck here for a while. Can you let everyone know that we’re going to be delayed?
“It’s the curse, isn’t it? Did you get rid of the emerald?”
“Within minutes of arriving, but apparently the Menzies commissioned a gypsy to paint some portraits about how the curse would play out, and you won’t believe it, but one of the portraits depict someone who looks like me. Now everyone is in an uproar.” Seeing the picture on the phone left Quinn bewildered, if not a bit intrigued, not that she’d tell her sister. Cara would personally fly over to drag Quinn back kicking and screaming to reality. Well, at least she’d try.
“I told you not to go. I warned you that thing is cursed. You need to come home.”
“Not yet.”
Cara let out a loud, long sigh. “So how is Scotland trying to kill you?”
“Oh, you know.” Quinn waved her hand as if Cara could see her and began tapping her foot. “The flowers are on steroids and are everywhere. There’s a pissed-off woman who thinks I’m out to steal her man. Oh, and there was an incident where someone tried to push me off a cliff.”
“What!” Cara’s squeal made Quinn’s momentarily deaf and caused her ears ring. “Get on the next plane and get out of there. Now,” Cara demanded as any good sister might. Quinn gave her props for trying, even if she’d ignore Cara’s demands. She couldn’t order Quinn around in person, so why did she think she’d accomplish it from another country?
“When have you ever known me to run from a fight?” Quinn’s nervously jumping leg stopped mid-bounce.
“This isn’t a joke.” Cara’s voice lowered to a scolding boil.
“I’ll be fine. I can’t leave the hunky Scot to fend for himself. He’s not equipped. Not until I figure out what’s going on.”
“Quinn Elizabeth.”
“That doesn’t even work when Mom is mad.” Quinn chuckled. “Collin needs a savior, so I’m going to give him one.”
“Quinn, be reasonable. You don’t know what you’re up against, and you don’t know those people. They could all be psycho crazy killers. Come home.”
“I can’t. Not even if I wanted to, but you’re right. I might not know what I’m up against, but I do know three ghosts that can give me all the juicy details. Gotta go, sis, love you, and if I die, you get my shoe collection and you can say you were right.”
“Quinnnnnn,”
Cara meant well, but was it bad that all Quinn heard was blah, blah, blah? Cara was blood. She should know better than most that Quinn would do things her way. Changing her mind wasn’t easily achieved. She’d been talked into it once and her ex fiancé had paid the ultimate price and lost his life. Never again. Danny was a prime example of what happened when her gut instincts weren’t heeded. His handsome face flashed before her eyes, making her heart clench and her stomach roll. It was hard to believe that five years had passed since that fateful night when he’d turned her life upside down. She’d survived losing him; she’d damn sure survive Scotland.
Quinn left the office, stopping Abby in the hall. “Do you drive?”
“No, miss, but Angus does, and he’s in the kitchen?”
Quinn wasn’t stranded and at anyone’s mercy. Hallefreakinlujah. There was a God, and at the moment, he was on her side. “Thank you.” Quinn all but sang the words.
“Would you like me to show you the way?” she asked.
“Nope, I’ll find it but thanks for your help.”
Ten minutes later, after multiple wrong turns and questionable looks, Quinn followed the delicious smell of fresh-baked bread until she finally found the kitchen.
Angus had a woman wrapped in his arms, engaging in a sensuous lip lock with both hands squeezing her backside. Quinn would have been embarrassed, but she was too stunned that the old coot was getting some action.
“That better be Mrs. Angus, or I’m telling your wife to double your chores.”
The couple pulled apart. The white-haired woman’s cheeks were as pink as the stew meat on the counter ready to be tossed into the pot. She smoothed her hair with one hand and playfully tapped Angus on the arm with the other. Thank God Quinn had gotten there when she had. She’d need to bleach her eyes if she’d caught them getting busy on the counter. Some things just couldn’t be unseen.
“Aye. You must be Quinn Thatcher, my new best friend. I’m Mavis, the keeper of Angus’ chore list.”
A giddiness claimed Quinn, and her grin grew. This woman was the creator of the amazing muffins. No wonder Angus was getting frisky. “Your muffins have ruined me from enjoying the processed foods back home, but no matter. I have every intention of sneaking you back into the States.” Quinn knocked Angus on the arm. “You can come too.”
“I like you, Quinn Thatcher,” Mavis said, picking up a plate of cookies. She held it out to Quinn. “I baked you some American cookies to make you feel more at home.”
“Mavis, dear, she just had breakfast,” Angus said as he moved to take the plate.
“You’ve got to be quicker than that, old man,” Quinn said, snatching the entire plate out of his reach. She coveted the chocolate chip cookies as if they were the oxygen she needed to survive. She took a bite into the warm cookie. The melted chocolate coated her tongue. Her eyes closed in bliss, and she might have moaned. She’d never tasted anything so divine. “It’s dangerous to stand between a woman and dessert.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” Collin said as he entered the kitchen. He took a cookie from the plate and inhaled his in two bites. He went to take another one and Mavis grabbed the plate. “You’ll ruin your lunch.”
“He will, but I won’t,” Quinn said while slipping another one from the plate. A spatula came down against the top of her hand, but no amount of pain from the cookie warden could have made her drop that cookie. “I don’t suppose you know how to make pizza, do you?”
Mavis’ eyes twinkled as though she held all kinds of culinary knowledge over mere mortals. She probably did.
“I hear you need a ride,” Collin asked.
“Oh yeah.” Quinn had gone momentarily brain dead, first with Angus’ kissing escapades, and then because of savoring the melting chocolate chips. She’d had her fair share of cookies and chocolate but nothing as orgasmic as Mavis’ treats. It was official; Quinn was taking Mavis home with her if she had to beg, borrow, or steal. It didn’t take much to make her happy. “The voyeurism and food made me forget. Had I known Mavis was such a great cook, I would have bartered her for the emerald.”
“I wouldnae have traded, but I’d consider time share.” Collin laughed, and Quinn broke the cookie in half and held it up to his lips, rewarding him like a child willing to share his toys.
“Mmmm.” He mumbled as he chewed. “Where’d you need to go?”
“Into town to grab my bags and buy some more clothes. I hadn’t expected to stay an entire week or more.”
“I’ll grab my keys,” Angus said, gesturing over his shoulder.
“Nay, I’ll drive Quinn. You can supervise the staff as they start setting up the ballroom for this weekend. Make sure they donae try to sword fight like they did last year.”
“Ohhh, a party. Will you wear your skirt?” Quinn teased, following Collin out of the kitchen.
“Aye, I’ll be wearing my kilt. It’s an annual tradition to keep the peace between the Menzies and McDougalls. Where the singles mingle in search of finding true love in the other’s clan.”
“Seriously?” Quinn asked, following him out of the castle to the truck parked out front. “Do you parade the women like a herd of cattle, or do you chaps prefer wet T-shirt contests?”
“Nay.” Collin chuckled, opening the truck door. He stopped her before she got in. Using the pad of his thumb, he swiped at the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got something right there.”
Heat swirled in his eyes as his body pressed against hers, making her stomach flutter in delight and her breath hitch from his touch.
“I was saving that for later.” Quinn slipped past him and wiped at the corners of her mouth. He was good. She could see how any woman might fall under his spell. She shoved the thoughts aside and cleared her throat. Her objective didn’t include taking the man to bed but saving Collin and herself from whoever had tried to turn her into fish food. Although… there wasn’t a reason why she couldn’t do both.
Quinn waited until Collin pulled out of the castle driveway before blurting out, “Who has the most to gain if the curse plays out?”
Collin was quiet, as if mulling it over. “Ian,” he finally answered. “The last portrait depicts someone handing him the emerald.”
“Are you sure it’s him in the picture?”
“Aye. He has a matching birthmark on his wrist.”
“And who has the most to lose?” Quinn asked, trying to remember some of the words from the curse. Each time she tried, the word death kept flashing in her mind.
“I’m no’ sure. Neither the gypsy nor the curse gave names. We have only the portraits and the poem. It said that you’d bring a once noble man to ruin.”
“Let’s not forget the part of the poem that mentions fire and death to contend with,” she reminded him.
“Do you trust all of your staff and the people close to you?”
“Aye. I trust them all.” Collin’s words were strained as he pumped the brakes. The truck was picking up speed going down the hill. “The brakes are no’ working.”
Quinn’s whole body stiffened. At the bottom of the hill was a sharp curve, and if he didn’t make the turn, they’d both turn into ghosts. She wasn’t about to live an eternity in this foreign land.
She reached for the door latch as her heart raced faster with each passing second.
“You cannae jump.”
“Wanna bet? We both are, on the count of three. One, two…” She didn’t wait until three before shoving the door open. Her body tensed at the sight of the gravel road beneath the tires. The grass was about a foot away. “Three,” she yelled at the same time Collin’s door opened. She launched away from the road and landed in the hard packed grass and leaves and continued to roll before coming to a stop. She sat up, rubbing her head and trying to refocus her eyes. Her gaze landed on Collin on the other side of the road before their gazes flew to the truck and they both watched in horror as it disappeared over the cliff and out of sight. The sound of crunching metal and burst of shooting flames filled the quiet afternoon. Quinn lay back in the grass, afraid to move and taking inventory of all of her body parts. Her back ached, but that was nothing compared to the invisible sledgehammer pounding against her head. The jump could have been worse. The side of the road could have been covered in heather. Quinn’s vision blurred and her head started to sway. She closed her eyes to fight the fainting feeling and lost her battle as a dark void consumed her consciousness.