CursedLaird (19 page)

“Cali, what kind of a sordid trick is this?” Kip demanded,
peeking out from behind the massive wall of what she could only assume was some
sort of hired bodyguard. “What happened to the statue?”

“Magic, pure and simple,” Caledonia practically purred with
satisfaction that Kip failed once again to recognize the beauty of what
occurred. But his stupidity didn’t matter. Struan’s freedom did. “You wouldn’t
be in this predicament if you hadn’t stolen from me in the first place.”

“Stolen,” he sputtered. “You’re my wife. What’s yours is
mine.”

“Divorced Kip. D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D. Get that through your thick
skull,” she stated in a calm, deliberate manner from her position beside
Struan. “Nothing I have is yours and that includes me. That’s one thing you
need to remember in that stupid pea-sized brain of yours.”

“Caledonia.” Struan’s thick brogue and the way he said her
name sent chills down her spine. She noted Struan spoke to her but never
dropped his eyes from his opponent. “It is nice o’ ye to arrive but as ye can
see, there are games afoot. Mi
fèilleil fiadh-chat
, stand back and give
mi a moment to clear the room o’ these arses, then ye shall be safe.”

The oversized thug lunged at Struan. Man on man, they
fought. No weapons other than hand to hand. Struan’s agility even with a heavy
claymore strapped to his back amazed Caledonia. His footwork matched that of
any prizefighter. She watched in awe of his ability. The bad guy took a swing.
Struan ducked and landed an uppercut to his jaw. The idiot swayed backward into
Kip, who screamed and shoved the man back into the fight. With a shake of his
head, he seemed to have cleared his noggin and stepped toward Struan again then
stopped.

Struan remained still until the man swung first, throwing a
right then a left. Both missed Struan’s face by millimeters. But his fists
didn’t miss their mark. Struan landed consecutive blows to the man’s middle,
causing him to grunt loudly and stumble. Not giving the man a chance to
recover, Struan stepped and aimed for his head. A solid blow knocked him down
for the count. He sank in slow motion to his knees then fell face-first to the
floor.

“Cheap hired help,” Kip yelled as he ran toward the door.

Poppa had other plans. He tackled Kip. The pair slid across
the floor until the wall stopped their progress. Fin dragged Kip to his feet as
he stood. With one hand balled in the front of Kip’s shirt, Fin hauled back his
other fist and before he could land the blow, the coward squealed like a girl.

“Not the face, not the face.”

“Defend yourself like a man,” Fin demanded. When Kip refused
to do anything but quiver with his hands covering his face, Fin released him.
“You ain’t worth the effort. I don’t understand what my daughter ever saw in
you.”

“This isn’t the man I once loved, Poppa,” Caledonia stated
from directly behind him. “The Kip I knew got caught up in a lust for money
that killed the kind, decent man who once was him.” She stepped around her
father and stared directly at Kip, who peeked at her from between his fingers.
“Let this be your final warning. Don’t cross me again. I walked away from
everything I worked so hard to build and didn’t fight you in court just to be
rid of you. But it won’t happen again. Leave me be, Kip, or you won’t like the
consequences.”

She leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “I have a copy
of all your computer files. How else do you think I found you so easily? Push
me and I’ll destroy you.”

Caledonia turned to walk away. In a move that surprised them
all, Kip grabbed her braid, fisted it tight and jerked her backward. Before he
got a good grip around her waist, Caledonia elbowed him in the ribs. Her poppa
took a step forward and creamed him in the face with a meaty fist that broke
his nose. Blood gushed. Kip cried out in pain, immediately releasing Caledonia
and cupping his nose.

“I warned you,” Fin claimed as he readied for another round.
His brogue thickened with anger. “Never to lay a hand on me daughter. You
didn’t listen. Would you like another reminder?”

“You crazy old man,” Kip yelled. “You broke my nose.”

“Who you calling
old
man?” Fin raised his fist to
strike again only to be stopped by Percy.

“I think he’s had enough, Mr. Kavanagh.” Percy glared at Kip
and he shrank against the wall. “He ain’t worth the time or energy.”

“Aye,” Fin replied as he relaxed. “You’re right.”

“Damn,” Abel muttered. “I didn’t get to hit anyone.”

Caledonia, Percy and Fin broke into laugher while Struan
simply stared, looking a bit confused. Caledonia moved to his side and gathered
his hand. The moment she touched him, her insides warmed with need. The heat in
his gaze weakened her legs, making it difficult to stand steady. Damn, he was
the perfect man.

“Where are we?” Struan asked. His fingers gently brushed her
cheek.

“Edinburgh.”

“South o’ Loch Tay.” He sighed with a sad shake of his head.

When he’d awoken and realized he was no longer in the shed,
he knew he needed more than to learn to dive. He needed the end to the curse.
His
brathairs
were free. Mary’s words he felt were truth on that matter.
Then why not him?

How long must he suffer the constraints of the curse? How
many times would he wake and not know where he was? This controversy clawed at
his soul, opening a new wound to which he knew no salve to heal. He didn’t like
unanswered questions.

And how had he gotten here? From the looks of it, he had
been moved in stone form. He sensed Caledonia and her family were not the
reason he had been moved but they had somehow found him. Now they had faced
danger because of him. This did not bode well with his sense of honor.

If he were ever to be able to offer Caledonia his heart, he
wanted it to be whole. Not a partial night-only existence. When he saw her
standing in the doorway while he made ready to fight, he made his decision.
Find the end to the curse first then make peace with the ghost of his past.
Turmoil brewed in his chest. The love of the dive battled with his sense of
valor. But he knew what must be done and refused to waver from his latest
decision.

“Caledonia,” he said, forcing his tone to sound convincing
and not show the true disappointment he felt in his soul. He wanted to reach
the bottom of the loch, but he wanted something else more. Looking at her, he
knew just what that something was but he couldn’t offer it to her. Not in his
cursed state. He licked his lips and found the courage to continue. “It is time
I return to Castle MacKinnon. I want to be free of this curse so nothing like
this can happen again.”

She knew the turmoil he must feel. He wanted to go home, but
he also wanted to dive to the bottom of Loch Tay. She’d promised to help him do
both. “Are you sure?”

When he nodded, she glanced across her shoulder at the
others. “Anyone up for a road trip? If we leave now, we can swing by home, pack
for overnight and drive Struan to Castle MacKinnon tonight. Dependent on
traffic, we might even make it before sunrise.”

“Nobody’s going anywhere.”

In sync, they turned to face a short man impeccably dressed
in what looked to be a very expensive suit with high-dollar shoes to match. His
distinctive features spoke of Asian descent. As did that of the three rather
large men who surrounded him. They stood just inside the doorway. The tallest
of the oversized goons stood behind him, staring directly at them over the
shorter boss’s head. The other two stood on either side and were just as
intimidating in size.

Caledonia thought she recognized the short boss, but try as
she might she couldn’t place a finger on who he was or where she’d seen him.
His accent was undeniably from China, Japan or somewhere in that region, but
she had no clue as to which fit his dialect. That wasn’t her expertise. But
protecting her friends and family, that was more her style. She stepped in front
of everyone and stared directly at the thin, short little man.

“Who are you and what do you want?” She did her best to
sound authoritative. Standing to full height, chin tilted and shoulders
straight, she stood at least a good couple of inches taller than her new
opponent. He didn’t have to answer. She guessed he was here to claim his prize.
The statue Kip placed on the black-market auction site.

“My business of none of yours,” he replied in a slow,
smart-assed tone. Even though she stood taller than he, he somehow managed to
still look down his nose at her, as if she was some sort of poor peasant and he
was the king. He leaned slightly and looked around her at where Kip had run for
cover behind the O’Reillys. “I’ve come for what is mine, Crosby. Where is it?”

The brothers looked at one another. With a nod, they
separated. Abel took a giant step to the left. Percy stepped right, leaving Kip
out in the open. He still held his nose with one hand and his eyes widened with
fear before he started to babble.

“Mi Tu Jang.”

Mi Tu Jang
, oh god, Kip didn’t. Caledonia gritted her
teeth and swallowed her gasp. She couldn’t believe the idiot had gotten
involved with this notorious art collector—thief described him better in her
mind. Mi Tu Jang ruled the black-market art world. His ruthless reputation
preceded him. Damn, this wasn’t good. Her heartbeat increased and her palms
sweated, but she refused to show fear. That would get them killed, if what
she’d heard about this man was correct. He got what he wanted no matter the
cost.

“Well, Crosby. I’m waiting. Where is it?” Jang repeated, not
bothering to hide the growing irritation in his voice.

“I had it. Really I did. But it…” Kip cut a glance at Struan
before he pointed and stammered. “H-he stole it.”

Mi Tu Jang’s eyebrow arched as he stared Struan up and down.
His face took on a comical twist. “You let this funny-dressed Scot steal from
you? You really are pathetic. I want the money deposited into your offshore
account returned immediately.”

In an unusual show of backbone, Kip replied, “I’m not doing
that. It’s not my fault. He stole it. If you want it, take it up with him. He
has your statue.”

“Is what he says truth?” Mi Tu Jang turned his attention to
Struan.

“Aye.” Struan’s chest puffed and his voice deepened with an
ominous edge that sent chills down Caledonia’s spine. What the hell was he
doing? Before she could speak, he added bitterly, “I have the statue. But it
does not belong to ye.”

“Ah.” Jang nearly sighed his reply. “That is where you are
wrong.” He did a backward sidestep to his right, placing himself behind one of
his bodyguards as he gave his command. “Retrieve what is mine so we can leave
this dreadful place.”

The three men shifted into combat stances, surrounding their
boss. Percy looked at Abel and smiled. Abel thumbed his nose in an arrogant
manner. The two brothers moved in unison, stepping around Caledonia. It didn’t
surprise her when Struan maneuvered to place himself directly in front of her
and her poppa as a human shield.

“I got the one to the left, Percy, you got the one to the
right and, Struan, the middle’s all yours.” Caledonia didn’t miss the humor in
his voice. This was what he’d been waiting for, a good fight.

The other three men each took a step and pulled out
handguns. Her heartbeat stalled and she couldn’t breathe. Struan reacted faster
than anyone she’d ever seen. The claymore left its sheath in a blur. Metal
clashed on metal. From right to left, the men’s guns hit the floor without a
shot being fired. This pissed off the biggest guy in the middle. He turned,
ripped a loose rusty pipe from the wall and spun it like a weapon as he closed
the distance between him and Struan. Caledonia tried to intervene, but Poppa
grabbed her around the waist and dragged her away from the fight.

Abel and Percy both held their fists at the ready. Percy
nodded at Abel without taking his eyes off his opponent. “You think these two
read their fortune cookies this morning?”

“Nah,” Abel retorted, calmly. “If’n they did, they would’ve
known they were in for a whooping.”

The man in front of Abel lunged, performing some sort of
overblown martial arts maneuver. Abel sidestepped him and landed a solid left
to his cheek. Percy had similar luck with his opponent. He sidled up beside
Abel as they both readied for the second attack. “You think they watched too
many of those kung fu action movies?”

Abel replied by moving his lips without making a sound then
said, “I believe you’re right, my brother.”

“I’ll take barroom brawling any time over martial arts
bullshit,” Percy claimed as he dove headfirst into his opponent’s forward
advance. Abel followed suit. The O’Reillys’ fighting skills were well renowned
in the world of Scotland’s barroom brawlers. Usually, Abel wasn’t the one who
hungered to fight, but he never walked away once one got started. Caledonia
worried more about Struan. She bit her lip as she studied his every move.

Struan’s opponent was armed with a long, metal pipe. From
the look on his face, it didn’t bother Struan. He rolled that heavy claymore’s
hilt around in his hand as if it were featherlight. Facing one another, they
circled, each sizing the other up and searching for a weakness. Whereas Struan
appeared aloft and prepared, the oversized goon seemed tense and ruled by
anger. He acted first, swinging the pole at Struan’s head. He ducked and before
the bad guy regained his balance from the overzealous movement, Struan tackled
him.

The pole went flying across the room and rolled to a stop at
Mi Tu Jang’s feet. He simply looked at it with a bored stare. Caledonia didn’t
like his overly calm demeanor. Though his outward appearance showed a lack of
concern, she sensed he plotted his next move. She stepped back, keeping her
father to her right and Jang in front of her and a little off to the left. At
no time did she intend to let that man out of her sight.