Dual Release (3 page)

“We’ve got nothing.” Jenny’s tone took on a determined edge. “How do we handle this? What if he really is a killer? Or worse, what if this brotherhood wants him to kidnap this woman as a sacrifice for some demonic ritual?”

“So now you’re getting on board with the devil-worshiping brotherhood,” Cait teased.

“I’m leaning that way. It’d make a much better headline.
Demonic Brotherhood Attempted Sacrifice of Woman.
Anything else is newspaper fodder.”

Cait laughed. “Now that’s the Jenny I know. Put a catchy header on it and sell, sell, sell.”

“Damn right. Gotta keep our small-time mag going.” Jenny burst out laughing right along with Cait. After a moment her laughter stopped suddenly as she said, “It just hit me, Cait. What was he doing in the bar if he was supposed to be following that woman? Shouldn’t he have been watching her in case she moved instead of sitting on a stool beside you drinking?”

“I asked him that last night.” Cait swallowed any remaining laughter. “He told me and I quote, ‘The old bat’s in bed for the night’. And he needed a drink to cope with the loneliness. Can you believe he even hit on me, wanting me to hang out with him while he sat watch?”

“Really.” Jenny nearly squealed as she spoke. “Bet he wanted to do the backseat bongo with you to pass the time. You could’ve fucked the info out of him, Cait, instead of having us traipse all over town today.”

Cait pffted then said, “Like that was going to happen.” Laughter broke out between the giddy pair again.

When a man in a wheelchair and a redheaded woman exited the restaurant, the pair’s laughter quieted.

“Is that her?” Jenny asked. “I can’t get a good look at her.”

“Aye,” Cait answered.

A sleek van was brought around. The driver got out. Cait noted he walked with a distinguishable limp as he moved around the van and lowered a lift gate from the side to accommodate the chair. The man rolled onto the lift and was placed into the van, and then the woman was escorted to the opposite side. She got into the passenger seat. Once they were settled, the driver took his position behind the wheel. The second it pulled into traffic, the man they were watching pulled out behind it. Cait followed suit. She couldn’t help but pick on Jenny.

“Looks like the game’s afoot, Watson.”

Jenny jested in return, “Okay, Sherlock wannabe. Let’s just hope Moriarty doesn’t beat us again this time.”

Though she loved Cait’s enthusiasm, this adventure had her stomach in knots. They’d never done anything this
thrilling
, as Cait called it. The campus ghost story just happened to have a happy ending. This one might not. She wasn’t cut out for that type of crime-related journalism. Catching murderers wasn’t her thing. It was why they followed the paranormal route. Jenny adjusted her seat belt and settled in for the ride.

Discussing their first paranormal investigation had her thinking of how they met. She could still picture Cait as a young exchange student at The University of Texas at Austin who was assigned as Jenny’s dorm roommate. Cait’s voluptuous shape was a stark contrast to Jenny’s long, lean frame. The feisty-spirited brunette with deep-brown eyes that always held a sparkle of laughter in them was the complete opposite of Jenny’s mild-mannered frankness with a twist of “let’s not do that, we might get hurt” attitude. If it wasn’t for Cait’s adventurous nature, she might still be a meek scaredy-cat, sitting in her room reading about paranormal adventures instead of living them.

Cait had changed her. Made her more outgoing. She snorted. With older brothers, you would’ve thought she’d be a tough tomboy, but no. Her mom wanted a girl and made sure she was a girly-girl. She’d never had to fight for anything ever. Her brothers protected her as if she were some sort of fragile flower. Jenny leaned her head against the seat rest as she kept her eyes on the taillights of the suspect’s car. What would her overprotective brothers think of her now, chasing after a weirdo? They’d tell her not to do it, that’s what.

She shot a sideways glance at Cait—a disorganized, outgoing mess paired with a detail-oriented, shy individual. Definitely not a perfect pairing for an everlasting friendship, but somehow they’d made it work. Thanks to their mutual curiosity about all things paranormal. The night Cait caught her reading a book on Bigfoot broke the strained existence between them.

As a child, she’d dreamt of being the first to find proof that Nessie truly existed. When Cait admitted she’d had that same dream, Scotland was the logical choice for them to start their new life after college. Having a native as a best friend made the transition easier for Jenny. Her move hadn’t thrilled her family. That discussion replayed in her head on occasion. She shivered. Confrontation wasn’t her strong suit, especially where her family was concerned. She was her mother’s only daughter. Jenny’s six siblings were boys. Her mother resisted any sort of change when it came to her angel, but finally accepted it when she realized how happy this job made her little girl. Jenny made a mental note to call home as soon as possible.

Eventually she knew she’d have to tell her mom that she and Cait had taken a small flat in London. That was a conversation she did her best to avoid. As long as her mom believed they were staying with Cait’s grandmother outside Edinburgh, Scotland, they were considered safe. But the moment she found out they were living in a big city… Jenny tried to convince herself that she hadn’t told her mother because she didn’t want her to worry. In truth, she just didn’t want to have to deal with the arguments about her safety her brothers would have started if they knew.

Not wanting to lose sight of the vehicle up ahead, Cait increased the car’s speed, causing Jenny to lean into the seat. The acid in her stomach churned and her thoughts flipped back to the issue of the moment. What if he really did intend to harm the redhead? What the hell were they going to do about it?

What would her brothers do? They’d punch him, that’s what. But she wasn’t a fighter. On reflex, she pulled her cell phone out and checked the signal bars. Three. Good. At least there was a possibility of calling for help as long as they didn’t wander too far out of their provider’s range. She rolled her eyes. Cell phones sucked sometimes.

Her gut twisted into a knot and she could barely speak as a mixture of emotions sprang to life. Excitement, anxiety, fear and anticipation swirled into a potent concoction that made her insides churn. She’d seen the curse in action. She knew what to expect but with Jameson at her side, uncertainty tainted her steps. What if she was wrong? What if this pair of statues weren’t who she thought they were? She’d look like a fool in front of him. After all, she’d only seen them in the background of a press picture in a newspaper. Never up close.

He handed her the key when they reached the door. Her fingers trembled as she inserted it in the lock while he pressed the code to deactivate the alarms. She cut a sideways glance at him. She’d asked him to believe the unbelievable and he’d agreed. What if she couldn’t back it up? Would he change his opinion of her and call her a crazy coot like the ladies who were supposed to be her friends at the club?

When he looked at her and smiled, her fears vanished. Nope. He’d still believe in her even if she was wrong about these statues being the lost MacKinnon twins. She took a breath and turned the key. The lock clicked and she twisted the knob, pushing the door open wide enough for his wheelchair to pass. Once inside, she closed it behind them.

Jameson flicked a switch and the warehouse brightened with light. May blinked at the sudden change. The moment she regained focus, he waved his arm gallantly in front of him and pointed toward a wide pathway between two rows of large crates.

“The treasure you seek is at the far end near the loading dock.”

May forced her uncertainties away. She smiled and prayed she was right about this. “You lead and I shall follow.”

As he rolled down the pathway, he grabbed a crowbar from a tool cart and explained, “I had them recrated for transport to the gallery. I planned to place them on display next month. But if they are what you claim—” He shot her a drop-dead sexy grin across his shoulder that refortified her trust that her first thought was correct. The “sleeping twins”, as he called them, were truly the cursed MacKinnon brothers.

“They are,” she replied. “I just know it.”

At the end of the row, he turned right and shoved the crowbar into the edge of an oversized crate. It was wider than it was tall, which accommodated the statues’ reclined positions. May couldn’t help but admire Jameson’s upper body strength. It took him mere minutes to open the crate. She held the side until he rolled out of its way, then released it when he nodded. It landed with a bang, which made her jump even though she knew it was going to happen.

May released a nervous laugh. Jameson popped a little wheelie, easing his chair onto the discarded wooden side and rolled forward to remove the packing material from around the statues. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. They were the most wondrous sight. Her heart leapt for joy as she simply stared at what she knew were the cursed bodies of Donnell and Dour MacKinnon. On autopilot, she helped until every shred of packing material was removed from around them.

Her hands shook as she gently caressed their faces. These two never knew what hit them. May shook her head. MacGillivray cursed them as they slept. They looked so peaceful, unaware over two centuries had passed. One lay on his side, an arm under his head for a pillow with the bottom leg straight, while the top leg was bent, supporting him from toppling forward. The other twin was on his back, an arm across his eyes, the other under his head. The arms they used as pillows and the tops of their heads touched.

Dressed only in kilts, Donnell and Dour were a perfectly matched set of young Scottish lairds if she’d ever seen them.

How they’d managed to be kept together after so much time and not been broken apart, she’d never know, but could only be thankful they were intact. She knelt as she held Jameson’s gaze and took his hands in hers. Her smile broadened. “It’s them. It’s the MacKinnon twins. They’re exactly how Akira described them.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” A menacing voice came from behind Jameson.

May sprang upright as Jameson spun his chair around to face the intruder, who stepped from behind a crate. The man stood at average height, wearing a long trench coat and a knit cap pulled low across his brow. Dressed all in black, he appeared pale. His scruffy five o’clock shadow just added to his dirtiness instead of giving this particular man a bad-boy appeal.

May’s stomach sank. It was the man from earlier. The man she’d noticed before she went into the art gallery to see Jameson. He
was
following her. What the hell could he possibly want with the statues? Then it struck her. Brother Leod had to be behind this. Damn. She’d let her guard down and led them to the twins. May held on to Jameson’s chair for support as she stood directly behind it.

“Who are you?” Jameson demanded.

“Not important. I’m here for the statues.” With his hand in his coat pocket, he motioned as if he had a weapon. “Now move away from the crate so I can get a good look at my prize.”

May noted Jameson’s hesitation, his shoulders lifting emphasizing their broadness, but she wasn’t about to let him get hurt by doing something stupid. She tightened her grip on his chair handles and leaned close to his ear.

“Let him think he’s won for the moment,” she whispered. He met her concerned gaze across his shoulder and gave her a slight nod. As if he’d conceded to the intruder, Jameson released his wheels and let May roll him to the side. May’s thoughts whirled as she played out several scenarios in her head.

Was he really armed with a weapon in his coat pocket or was he just trying to intimidate them? He didn’t look that strong. Maybe if she tackled him at the knees, he’d fall. Then if Jameson rolled onto his supposed gun hand, injuring it, she’d threaten him with the crowbar to remain still until the authorities arrived. From the side angle of his face, recognition sparked May’s brain. She knew him. Or at least she thought she did. She stepped beside Jameson’s chair. Her hands on her hips, she leaned a little to the right, studying his face.

When he realized she stared at him, he stopped taking pictures and sending them to someone with his phone. “What?” he shouted angrily.

“Just trying to get a good look at you,” May tilted her chin as she spoke. “Don’t want to miss any details for the police.”

“Get back, you old bat,” he screamed, wildly waving his coat pocket at her. This led May to believe she was right. He was faking it. He didn’t have a weapon.

She took a step forward. He leaned back. His eyes widened. “I’ll shoot you if you don’t stop.”

“I don’t think you will,” May replied calmly. She never took her eyes from his face, trying to keep his focus on her. “I doubt seriously you have a gun in your pocket or else you’d be pointing it in my face by now.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” he sneered and tried to sound menacing. But she heard the slight hitch in his tone, the lack of conviction in his threat.

With the intruder’s attention on May, he wasn’t watching Jameson, who carefully eased into a better position closer to the man. He quietly lifted the forgotten crowbar from its location in his chair beside him, keeping it out of the other man’s view. May had an idea of what Jameson planned and moved again, causing the man to turn more, facing her, his back toward Jameson. It was all Jameson needed.

Thwack!

He swung the crowbar like a baseball bat and struck the man behind both knees, knocking his legs from under him. His forehead hit the upper edge of the crate containing the twins. May jumped back, getting out of the way of the falling man as he landed face first, unconscious on the floor. The cell phone he’d been urgently using went sailing into the crate, sliding to a stop out of sight behind the statues.

“Nice swing,” May praised as she high-fived Jameson. “That ought to teach that thug not to mess with us.”