CHAPTER 17

Dougal Scott barreled toward them, fists clenched. Kris wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to Liam.

Dougal swung. Liam ducked. Kris tried to, but she wasn’t as quick as Liam and the fist caught her on the cheek. Everyone gasped.

Light exploded, then the pain. Kris didn’t fall, but she staggered. Liam turned, caught, then righted her. She thought he would hold her and she even began to go into his arms, but as soon as she was solid on her feet he was gone.

His arm was a blur, shooting out, popping Dougal on the chin. The blow seemed too fast to pack much punch, but it must have, since Dougal went down like a house of cards in a sudden wind.

No one came forward to help. No one stepped in to stop them, not even Johnnie. Back home, a place like this might keep a shotgun under the bar, or at least a bat. But here, the owner just watched, as did everyone else.

It was weird.

Dougal lay sprawled on the dance floor, the hand that had hit her now rubbing his own chin. His gaze went past Liam to Kris. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Kris wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t “all right.” Her cheek hurt like a son of a bitch. She was going to have a bruise, if not a black eye. But he did seem sorry, and he hadn’t meant to hurt her. But what the hell had gotten into him?

“Here, dearie.” Effy appeared at her side with a dish towel of ice. “Press this right there.” She showed Kris what to do.

“None for me?” Dougal asked.

Effy sniffed and ignored him.

Dougal got to his feet and shoved past Liam, headed in Kris’s direction.

Liam grabbed him. “Ye willnae go near her again.”

Dougal drew himself up, towering over Liam, yet Liam was the one who appeared fearsome.

“I’ll kill ye if ye hurt her,” Liam vowed.

“Whoa,” Kris said—ignoring Effy’s murmurs of, “Shh, dearie.”—“Calm down.”

Both men turned, blinking as if they’d forgotten Kris was there. Which they couldn’t have considering they’d been talking—no, arguing—over her.

“You slept with him, didn’t you?” Dougal demanded.

The question was so shockingly inappropriate Kris’s mouth fell open. Then her cheeks flamed, giving him the answer he did not deserve.

Dougal made a disgusted sound. “Of course you did. Women can never help themselves around a pretty face, a perfect body. I’m sure he’s got a cock the size of Inverness.”

Kris winced. Nice.

“Dinnae listen to him,” Effy said. “Sometimes Dougal can be—”

“Honest?” Dougal interrupted. “Forthright?”

“An ass,” Liam muttered.

“Takes one to know one,” Dougal returned, and Kris couldn’t help it; she giggled.

Dougal’s face flushed, and Kris blurted, “Sorry! It’s just so school yard. Fighting over a girl and ‘takes one to know one.’ It struck me—” Dougal turned on his heel and strode out. “Funny,” she finished as the door slammed behind him.

The room remained silent for several ticks of the clock, then broke into loud conversation as if nothing had happened.

“What was that?” she asked. “He and I— We— Didn’t. I mean, we talk. We were friendly. But—”

“Dougal tries so hard to fit in,” Effy said softly. “But he cannae. He must have thought, in you, he’d found a kindred spirit at last.”

Kris cast her a quick, suspicious glance. Did Effy know she and Dougal were fellow skeptics? How?

“Yer both American,” Effy continued. “Newcomers. Interested in Nessie and the like. I’m sure he felt ye were his special friend.”

“Not anymore,” Kris muttered.

Liam pulled the ice pack away from her throbbing cheek. He grimaced when he saw what lay beneath.

“Mo gradh,” he whispered. “Tha me duilich.”

When he spoke to her like that she forgot who she was, who he was; she only remembered what they’d been like together.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

Liam shook his head, gently putting the ice pack to her cheek once more and holding it there with his hand atop hers.

“‘My love,’” Effy translated, considering gaze on Liam. “‘I am sorry.’”

“If I wanted her t’ know,” Liam growled, “I could have told her myself.”

Effy winked at Kris, then returned to her table.

Silence settled between them. This only made the loud conversation, the tinkling of glasses, the music, which had started up again but now played a rousing, modern tune, seem to pulse all around, separating Kris and Liam from everyone else.

“Why didn’t you want me to know what you said?” Kris asked.

Liam shrugged and looked away. “We’ve just met. I shouldnae be callin’ you my love.”

Except Kris didn’t want him to stop.

And that was probably her most foolish thought of all in a day that had been full of them.

Couples jiggled on the dance floor. Liam took one glance at their gyrations, made a face, and clasped her hand. “I’ll walk ye home,” he said.

Considering everything, she’d let him.

As they made their way to the exit, Alan Mac’s large form sprouted from the crowd. Perhaps Johnnie had not been as nonchalant about the fight as he’d seemed. Perhaps instead of pulling out his gun or his bat, he’d pulled out his telephone and called the cops.

Several people spoke at once. Alan Mac frowned. When someone jabbed a finger in Liam and Kris’s direction, he followed it, and his eyes widened.

Liam sighed as the constable headed toward them. Kris prepared to tell Alan Mac just who was at fault in the altercation. She didn’t get a chance.

“What are you doing here?” Alan demanded.

Kris turned to Liam. “Why is that the first question everyone asks you?”

“I dinnae get out much.”

Alan Mac choked; then he started to cough. Johnnie appeared at his side with a pint, which the big man chugged like water. When he lowered the empty glass and handed it to the bartender, his face had gone as scarlet as Dougal’s.

“What’s going on?” Kris handed the now-sopping dish towel to Johnnie as well. “Everyone acts like you’re a hermit. If they aren’t saying they never heard of you.” She narrowed her gaze on Alan Mac. “You told me he was a ghost.” She filled her palm with Liam’s ample biceps. “He doesna feel like a ghost t’ me,” she mocked.

“Ye were talking about him?” Alan Mac shoved a finger in Liam’s face. Liam appeared ready to bite it off.

Kris’s head began to ache. “Let me guess. You grew up together. It’s hard for you to think of him as anything other than Billy.”

“How’d ye know?” Liam murmured, his gaze holding Alan Mac’s.

The constable remained silent.

Johnnie brought Alan another pint, and he took it, breaking eye contact with Liam to down this one nearly as fast as the first.

“Should you be slamming those while on duty?” Kris asked.

“Not.” Alan Mac wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shoved the glass at Johnnie. “On duty, that is. I’ll have another.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I need it.”

Liam straightened. “What happened?”

Alan Mac glanced around as if afraid they’d be overheard. Considering they were in the middle of nearly a hundred people, he had a legitimate concern. Except everyone had lost interest in them and returned to their drinking and dancing. Nevertheless, the constable lowered his voice: “Another body. This one caught in the lock at Dochgarroch.”

“Woman?” Liam asked, and Alan nodded. “Same as the others?”

Kris cast Liam a sharp look. How did he know so much about it?

“No,” Alan Mac said. “Not bopped over the head and drowned. Not this time.” He took a breath. “Maybe it’s not the same killer.”

Liam lifted a brow. “Because two would be better?”

Alan Mac’s broad shoulders slumped. He obviously hadn’t thought of that.

“If not drowned,” Liam continued, “then what?”

“Knife to the chest.” Kris stilled. “But that wasnae the strangest part.”

“A third dead woman, this one with a knife in her chest, isnae the worst of it?” Liam asked.

“I dinnae know about worst, but strange, aye?” Alan Mac took the pint Johnnie brought and drank it more slowly than he had the others. “The knife was silver.” His gaze held Liam’s. “And not just silver plated, ye ken? Pure silver, through and through.”

Uh-oh, Kris thought. How many pure silver knives could there be in the area?

It didn’t matter. She was pretty sure this one was hers.

*   *   *

Silver, Liam thought. Could Edward Mandenauer still be in the area?

Ach, no. If the dead girl had been a shape-shifter, she would be ashes. No body left behind to become stuck in the lock at Dochgarroch. Edward, for all his faults, was very good about not stabbing humans with knives meant specifically for the inhuman.

Still, everyone made mistakes, and Mandenauer was getting quite old. Though it would be best not to tell him that and meet the pointy end of another silver knife.

Alan Mac continued to stare at Liam, lifting his brows up and down like a demented Groucho Marx. As if Liam didn’t know what silver meant. But if Alan kept it up, Kris soon would. If she didn’t already.

Kris wasn’t a Jäger-Sucher, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t something else.

Mandenauer had come here off and on for decades, if not centuries—Liam was not all that certain the man wasn’t immortal himself—and he’d never discovered their secret. However, Liam wouldn’t put it past the wily agent to pay someone like Kris—smart, resourceful, with an agenda of her own that paralleled that of the Jäger-Suchers—to keep an eye on things, then call Edward if anything turned up.

Hell, Liam wouldn’t put it past Mandenauer to kill a few women, toss them in the loch, blame it on Nessie, then wait for her to show up and—

Pow!

Liam had gone so far into his thoughts, he actually jerked as if he’d been shot. Stabbed. Blown up. Whatever.

Alan Mac frowned. Liam shook his head just once.

Not now, he thought, then shifted only his eyes to the left. Later.

Alan Mac’s chin dipped in a nearly imperceptible nod.

Liam glanced at Kris, expecting her to be staring at him with lifted brow and a do you think I’m an idiot? expression. Instead, she stared at the door with longing. The dark shadow of a bruise already marred the perfection of one cheek.

He’d promised to care for her, and less than a minute later she’d been hit. He’d said he’d see her home, yet he stood in the center of a pub while she became paler and paler.

“Time to go,” he murmured.

Her eyes met his, and something shifted in Liam’s chest, so sudden and startling, he rubbed at the spot. What was that? Both pleasure and pain, which left behind a sense of joyful sorrow. He’d never felt anything like it before.

Outside, the night was cool and dark. Clouds had moved in, covering the moon and the stars. Liam didn’t mind. Sometimes the moon only reminded him of things he’d prefer to forget.

Kris slid her arm around his waist, leaning into him. The warmth of her caressed; the scent of her soothed. He’d never strolled down the street with a woman before. Never held her to his side, matched his steps, his very breath, to hers. When Kris left, he was going to miss her for the rest of his days.

When she left, the ghosts would come back. They would torment and haunt him. But it was nothing less than he deserved.

Liam shook off the sudden melancholy. Kris was here; so was he. Yes, she’d leave, but that was for the best. If she stayed—

He stiffened, pausing mid-step as Kris continued on. They came unstuck, and Liam was suddenly as cold as if he’d just dived into the loch.

“You all right?” She offered her hand. He stared at it for several seconds before he took it with a nod.

Once they were away from the village, the night grew even darker. They said nothing; however, the silence wasn’t awkward. Liam had never been with a woman who didn’t want to talk all the time. Not that he’d been with so very many, at least not lately, despite what that ass Dougal Scott had implied.

The man had never liked him, and the feeling, even before tonight, was mutual. Dougal Scott was just one of those people who rubbed Liam, and a lot of others, the wrong way.

Liam glanced at Kris. Should he say something about Dougal’s implication that Liam was the village lothario?

Probably.

Before he could, a movement near the loch distracted him. There, in the trees, a shadow slid from one to another and then on to the next. Silent, stealthy, whoever lurked there was very good. But Liam knew the banks of the loch better than anyone, and that shadow could slither all it liked, but that shadow did not belong.

Kris stared straight ahead, oblivious. Why wouldn’t she be? She didn’t have the training, the experience, the background that he had. It was only through pure luck that she’d survived thus far.

The idea of someone stalking her, perhaps killing her, made his skin prickle and his heart beat ever faster. The mental image of Kris in the loch with Nessie scared him more than anything had in—

Actually, nothing had ever scared him. He did not like that suddenly something could.

Liam considered running into the forest and grabbing the culprit, but if he did, he’d have to leave Kris alone, and he couldn’t.

He’d see her safely home. Tucked into bed with the door locked.

The door. The lock. He’d broken it.

“Maybe you should stay at a hotel,” Liam murmured.

“Why?”

He could barely see her face; the night was so damn dark. “Your door’s broken,” he said. “Ye shouldnae stay there until it’s fixed.”

“It is fixed. Rob had a note on his door. I thought that maybe you—?”

“No,” Liam murmured. He’d been a little … busy all day. He always was.

He didn’t care for that note, although why would anyone who wanted to do her harm have Rob fix the door?

They reached the cottage, and Kris used her new key on the new lock. Liam was so glad to see it. If the door had still been broken he would have had to stay here; then he wouldn’t have been able to slip out and discover who had followed them.

His luck, it would be Dougal Scott. The ass.

“Dougal,” he began. “What he said…”

Liam paused. Dougal didn’t know about Liam’s past—he couldn’t—the man had just assumed. Unfortunately, he’d assumed correctly.

Kris walked inside and switched on the light. “Which is it?”

“Which?” Liam repeated.

“Effy said you were too long alone. Dougal implied you have more women than the Pasha of…” She spread her hands. “Pashaville.”

Liam wanted to smack both Effy and Dougal, or perhaps knock their heads together. Kris had been lied to so often she trusted no one at all. He wished he could say that she should trust him, but he was lying, too, and he wasn’t going to stop. But he could clear up this misunderstanding.

Liam shut the door, then crossed the room until he stood so close Kris had to crane her neck to see his face.

“Both,” he said.

“Both?” She let out a short, sharp laugh and stepped back. He caught her hand before she could turn away, holding on when she tried to pull free.

Though he hated to agree with Dougal on anything, he’d vowed to tell her this truth. “Once I had more women than that pasha, ’tis true. But I have also been too long alone.”

Aeons, it seemed. Such was the way of loneliness.

Kris peered into his face with a measuring look. “You said the ghosts come to you.” He stiffened, and when he would have pulled away she held on. “Are they the reason you’re alone?”

He sighed. Another truth he could share.

“Yes.”

“Your family? He shook his head. “Did you … love and lose someone?”

Liam didn’t think he’d been capable of love. At least not until that night beneath the moon. Now …

He still wasn’t sure.

“I understand.” She squeezed his hand. “You turned to sex to forget.”

At his confused expression, she continued. “You lost someone you loved, and you turned to meaningless sex with an endless string of women.”

“They were mistakes,” he said. Horrible, terrible, haunting mistakes.

Kris tilted her head, studying him. “Why me?”

Good question. He wished he knew. What was it about her that made him break every vow he’d made since he’d become what he was?

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t care.”

Because, right now, he was going to break every one of them again.