Page 13 of Utterly Dauntless

And all Carson had was a pen.

He turned to flee, to draw the man out of his house and away from the woman secreted away in his pantry. But when he wrenched open his front door, another big man was waiting. A shorter menace than the first, but dangerous nonetheless.

The first had followed him. Carson’s only escape was the stairs. He flew up them like he had wings on his feet, then wracked his brain for anything that might serve as a weapon. When he found yet another Highlander stretched across his bed with a wicked grin on his face, he dropped the pen.

"Well, well," the man drawled, "if it isn't Mr. Blue Van."

Carson fought to pull air into his lungs, to get oxygen to his brain.

Had one of them witnessed him taking the witch from her car? Impossible. If so, they would have pounced on his arse when he stopped to sleep.

"Lookin' for somethin'?" The man's tone was deceptively solicitous.

Carson suddenly remembered the knife in his pocket and whipped it out. When the intruder just laughed, his thoughts began to scramble. So he carefully thought one thing at a time.

Knife. Drop the knife.

He dropped it.

Run!

He ran, but when he flew down the stairs, four big men gathered at the bottom to greet him. Three of them wore the kind of smile that invited him to piss himself. The fourth silently promised pain. And lots of it.

With sweaty hands squealing along the walls, Carson finally stopped his momentum still steps from the bottom, but it was too late to turn back. Long arms reached for him. Massive hands grasped his clothing, his arms, and guided him down. Then they insisted, not so gently, that he return to the kitchen. Once there, all five of them surrounded him like a fighting ring with him in the center. There was no chance he could win against any one of them. Even the shortest bastard had a confident, lethal look about him.

"It wasn't supposed to go this way!" He couldn't help but be pissin' mad. He was about to be robbed of the vindication he had sought nearly the whole of his life!

He put his hands on his head and began to pace in what little space they allowed him. Rage made it impossible to hold still, no matter what these bastards wanted.

"First things first," the mean one said. "Where is she?"

The rattle of a doorhandle drew all attention to the pantry. Carson took a step to the side, hoping to go for the door while the intruders were distracted, but the shortest one clamped a hand around his arm.

"Grey?" Aries pounded on the door. "Grey, is that you?"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

At the sound of the bolt sliding, Aries stepped back. The only thing she'd found to use as a weapon was a glass jar of marinara which she could bash over her captor's head, a container of olive oil cooking spray she could squirt into his eyes, and some salt, also to throw in the eyes. But she'd had a hard time keeping the grains from seeping through her fingers, so she'd filled her shirt pocket in case the other two weapons failed.

Now, she just looked ridiculous standing there, hands full and raised, while she waited for the door to open.

She'd been a fool. The voice on the other side of the door couldn't possibly be Grey's. Even if he'd gotten her message about the blue van, he wouldn't know where to look for it. If he still cared to. Brighton might have been the last straw for him. And if he'd given up chasing her now, in her most dire hour of need, it served her right.

The door opened swiftly...by someone not her captor.

She could have wept at the welcome sight of Grey Strachan filling the open doorway with that powerful body that was tailor made for rescuing damsels in distress. This was the man who had haunted her dreams nearly every night for years on end.

Those years had been kinder to him. He would realize it as well. Just give him a minute.

He searched her eyes, scanned down her body and back again, to see if she was all right. The concern on his face was quickly replaced with relief, then amusement. "Fixin' to cook for the man, are ye?"

She looked at the spray and the bottle of sauce, then set them down. By the time she faced him again, his smile was gone. In its stead was a coldness she could only guess at. Then he stepped away, and her heart tried to drag itself out of her chest to follow.

Come back,it begged.

Another big body took Grey’s place. A cheerful Wyndham McLeish had to duck his head to see her through the doorway built a hundred years ago. He waved her closer. "Come. Let's hear the bastard out before we call the police."

The kitchen was full to bursting with Highlanders. Banner Wallace had her captor by the arm, though the latter was seated on his kitchen table with his feet hanging. He looked resigned to an ominous fate.

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