Moon Cursed (25 page)

“What are ye doin’ creepin’ about in the night?” he demanded.

The stranger blinked, then grasped Liam’s wrists and attempted to pry them free.

Liam made a derisive sound—
not in this lifetime, brother
—and, spinning, slammed the would-be intruder against the open door. “Did ye dare t’ touch her? Did ye dare try and bring her harm?”

His fingers tightened, and the man began to choke. Liam hadn’t heard that sound in years. He’d hoped never to hear it again, but right now he quite liked it.

“Who are ye?” He pulled the stranger close, then shoved him back, bouncing his head off the wood with a lovely dull thud. “Who?”

He sputtered, opening and closing his mouth, still pulling on Liam’s hands with a surprising amount of strength for one who would soon be dead.

The lights clicked on. Both Liam and the newcomer were left blinking, though neither of them let go of the other.

“You might want to loosen up on his windpipe.” Kris, wearing nothing but a T-shirt that came to mid-thigh—and hopefully panties—stood a few feet away. “Just until you can get a name.”

Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen from Liam’s. The bruise that had been but a hint when they’d arrived was now the shade of ripe eggplant, puffy and pained. He wanted to drop the intruder to the floor and find her some ice.

Liam must have been blocking her view, because when he shifted, Kris’s eyes widened; her face paled, causing the bruise to flare a shiny black, like the skin of the monster beneath the moon.

“Marty?” she whispered.

Liam yanked away his hands. He figured the man would slide down the door and pool at his feet, which would give Liam a chance to find out just who in hell he was and why Kris knew him. Instead, the stranger’s eyes narrowed on Kris’s face, then his own flushed with fury.

“You bastard!” he announced, and punched Liam in the nose.

*   *   *

Kris cried out, rushing forward as blood spurted everywhere.

However, Liam didn’t react like most men who’d just met the business side of another man’s fist. Instead of clasping his hands to his gushing nose and howling, he wrapped them again around Marty’s throat.

“Liam.” Kris put her hand on his arm. “Let him go.”

“I think not,” Liam muttered.

“I know him. It’s all right.”

It wasn’t. Not really. But she didn’t want Liam to kill him, either.

At least not yet.

“Liam,” she said again, and at last he sighed, then let Marty go.

“Who the fuck is he?” Liam snarled at the same time Marty shouted, “He hit you?”

Kris lifted a hand to her cheek. Her fingers encountered skin long before she’d thought they would, and she winced. Her face was swollen, painful, and no doubt ugly as sin; no wonder Marty had gone ballistic.

“He didn’t hit me,” she said. “And even if he had, what is it to you? You walked out on me a long time ago.”

Liam stilled, cocking his head. “Dinnae tell me he is your husband or I may just kill him after all.”

Kris might have rolled her eyes at the statement, which would have sounded like it came straight out of an action movie if Liam hadn’t appeared to mean it.

Marty drew himself up until he and Liam nearly bumped chests. “You and what army?” Marty asked.

Now Kris did roll her eyes. “Can it,” she said. “He’d annihilate you.”

“I would,” Liam agreed, then reached out and shoved Marty into the door.

Kris jumped between them before they started wrestling like eight-year-olds. She put one hand on Liam’s chest, another on Marty’s. “Stop,” she ordered.

Marty blinked, staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost. Liam growled, but he stopped, at least for now.

“Liam, my brother, Marty. Marty, Liam Grant.”

The two men eyed each other warily.

“I ask again,” Liam murmured. “What are ye doin’ here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Marty looked Kris up and down. “If it weren’t so obvious that what you’ve been doing is her.”

This time Liam popped Marty in the nose. Then they both stood there and bled together. Maybe it would help them bond.

Kris stalked to the kitchenette and yanked open drawers until she found the dish towels, then tossed one to each man. She’d tell Effy to put them on her tab. While she was there, she filled a third with ice and set it against her face.

“Shut the door.” She waved with her free hand. “Then we’d better have a seat.”

They did as she ordered, though they continued to stare at each other like two dogs with one bone. That she was the bone in question should have been amusing but wasn’t.

Both men had headed for the chair, but when she plopped onto the couch they changed direction and sat next to her, one on either side.

The fit was a tad cozy. Kris considered getting up and taking the chair herself but feared that if she did that, they’d only wind up grabbing each other, then falling on the floor, flailing around, and breaking more than their noses.

“Would you sit there, Marty?” Kris pointed at the chair.

Her brother wasn’t happy, but he moved.

Kris hadn’t seen Marty since she was eighteen, and he’d been only a year older. She’d thought him full grown then, but she’d been wrong. He’d gained a few inches and a few pounds. His hair was also different. She remembered it being light brown, and it was in places. But the blond streaks suggested he’d been either working outside or visiting a salon.

Several puzzle pieces suddenly came together. “You’ve been asking about me in Drumnadrochit.”

Marty lifted one shoulder, then lowered it. He also lowered the bloody dish towel. His nose had stopped bleeding but
had
started swelling. It also listed to the side.

She glanced at Liam, who stared at Marty in speculation. Liam’s nose, though flecked with blood, seemed just fine.

“He’s the one who’s been slinking about asking fer ye?”

“Apparently,” Kris murmured. “The question is why?”

“Why do you think, Squirt?” She started at his use of the nickname only Marty had called her, probably because she’d hated it so much. “I was worried about you.”

“Squirt,” Liam repeated. “I think that might be an insult, aye?”

Kris sighed. It was. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“American term of endearment,” she said shortly, and Marty smirked. “You didn’t call. You didn’t write.” Marty’s smirk faded.

Or show up once in the past seven years, goddammit.

Her brother glanced away. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

Did she? Kris wasn’t sure.

“She certainly didnae want to see ye creepin’ about outside her bedroom window in the middle of the night,” Liam muttered.

Kris straightened. “What?”

“I saw a shadow slip past, so I went to find out who it was, opened the door, and—”

“Grabbed me by the throat,” Marty finished.

“What did ye expect, sneakin’ around like ye were? A handshake?”

“I was just checking to make sure the door was fixed.”

“
You
left the note for Rob?” Kris asked.

Marty shrugged again.

“He’s been skulking about a lot longer than tonight,” Liam murmured.

Marty ignored Liam and kept his gaze on Kris. “I saw someone following you.”

“That appears to be the new national pastime,” Kris said.

“If ye saw that someone, then you were followin’ us, too,” Liam pointed out.

Now Marty glanced at Liam with interest. “You saw them?”

“Or perhaps just you.”

Marty opened his mouth to reply, and the trill of a cell phone split the air. His hand went to his pocket. He pulled one out, glanced at the display, hit the mute, and stood. “I have to go.”

“It’s the middle of the night.” Kris stood, too. “Who’s calling you?”

But he was already heading for the exit. “I’ll be in touch,” he said.

Kris laughed, the sound as derisive as a playground bully’s.

Marty turned, expression bleak. “You have every right to doubt me. I don’t blame you. But I stayed away for your own good, Squirt. I did it to protect you, not to hurt you.”

A chill trickled over Kris. “What are you involved in, Marty?”

He shook his head and went out the door.

Kris ran after him, but the mist had come in, swallowing her brother as if he’d never even been.

She stared into the fog, ears straining for the rev of an engine—car, boat, cycle—or the flap of shoes on pavement. All she heard was the distant splash of the loch.

“That was weird.” Kris closed the door and turned.

Liam peered out the window, beyond which the mist swirled. “Weirder than ye think, lass.”

“Weirder than the brother I haven’t seen in seven years showing up in Scotland when hardly anyone knows I’m here?”

Liam’s gaze switched to hers. “No, that was the weird I was talking about.”

Kris smiled, though the effort wasn’t her best.

“What does yer brother do for a living?” Liam asked. Kris spread her hands. “Ye dinnae know?”

“I haven’t heard a word from him since I was eighteen.”

“Mmm,” Liam murmured. “He said he’d stayed away from ye to protect ye. Which makes me wonder what he needs to protect ye from. Considering there’s someone out there who’s been tryin’ to kill ye.”

There had been so many things going on, so many things being said, Kris had forgotten about that one. And really, that was the one she should have remembered.

“What did he study in college?”

“Business.” Kris frowned. “Psychology? Maybe English.”

“I take it ye’re not a close family.”

“We were.” Kris tried to leave it at that, but she couldn’t. “Then my mother died.”

“Ach.” Liam touched her hair in that way he had that almost, but not quite, made everything all right. “It’s sorry I am to hear it.”

“Water under the bridge,” Kris said, though it wasn’t. It never truly would be. “After that Marty and my dad couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

Liam’s lips turned down. “Perhaps not you so much as the place where they still saw her even though she was no longer there.”

“Whatever,” Kris muttered. “They left, and they didn’t come back.”

“Until now,” Liam said. “So ye didnae tell yer brother where ye were?”

“I haven’t told my brother anything in years. I wouldn’t have known how to get hold of him even if I’d wanted to.”

Liam’s brows lifted, but he didn’t comment. “Who
does
know you’re here?”

Edward, but she doubted Marty had talked to him. Or if he had, that the old man would have told him anything.

“Lola,” she said. “My roommate.”

“To be fair, he could have talked to her.”

Kris shook her head as she sat in the chair her brother had vacated. “I asked. No one’s called. No one’s been by.”

“Maybe he called or went by after ye asked. When was the last time ye heard from her?”

Kris thought back. It had been several days, but—

“I asked
her
because there’d been a man in the village asking about
me.
Tall, streaked hair—” She snapped her fingers. “Red Sox cap. I should have known.”

“Yer brother likes the Red Sox?”

“Hates ’em,” Kris said.

Confusion spread over Liam’s features. “Then why would ye have known?”

“You’d have to understand Marty,” Kris said. “He’s always been rabid about the Red Sox. Hated them like most people hate the Yankees. If he were trying to keep me from figuring out he was here, what better way than to wear a Red Sox cap?”

Liam obviously didn’t understand how her brother’s mind worked—Kris was surprised she still did—but he let it go. “Why wouldn’t he want you to know he was here?”

“Yeah, why?” Kris murmured, staring at the door through which her brother had disappeared.

“Perhaps it wasn’t so much you he was hidin’ from as…” His forehead creased.

“As?” Kris prompted.

“Whoever he wanted to protect ye from. Ye think he could be involved in something illegal?”

“He could be involved in anything.”

Liam’s scowl deepened. Then he saw her watching and forced a smile that was no cheerier than the one she’d forced. “At least his asking if ye were happy is less strange now.”

“How you figure?”

“He’s yer brother. Of course he wants to know if ye’re happy.”

“Then why not ask me to my face? Why sneak around and ask strangers?”

“Aye.” Liam turned to look out the window again. “I see yer point.”

The sight of his perfect profile brought up another question. “I think you broke Marty’s nose.”

“I did,” he agreed.