Here Comes the Rainne Again Read online

  “How’s that for inoffensive and passive?”

  7

  * Megan *

  “Tell me again why we volunteered,” Claire said to Megan as they crawled on the snow alongside the bottom of the hedge.

  “You heard my reasoning,” Megan whispered back to her twin. “We’re it. We’re Charlie’s freaking Angels.”

  “There were three of them. And they had guns. And hairspray. Lots of hairspray.”

  Megan stopped suddenly, making Claire bump into her rear end. She turned to her scowling sister and held a finger up to her lips to silence her. Megan tried to communicate by telepathy that there was a guy standing at the end of the hedge, but as usual it didn’t work. So much for that fabled twin bond. Why they hadn’t been blessed with any freaky twin skills—other than the same taste in clothes—she didn’t know, but they would have come in handy right around now.

  Left without the use of telepathy, she bugged her eyes out at her sister, pointed in the direction of the guy and mimed a gun. Claire’s eyes went wide. Megan nodded. Yes, it was bad. Fortunately, she had a plan.

  She put her mouth beside Claire’s ear and whispered, “You continue to crawl up behind him. I’ll distract him. You hit him with the baseball bat.”

  “How are you going to distract him?” Claire whispered back.

  Megan rolled her eyes. Now wasn’t the time for long explanations. But Claire had her adamant face on, so Megan elaborated.

  “I’m going to proposition him.”

  There was a pause before Claire exploded. Thankfully, she remembered to whisper while she did it. “Are you out of your mind? It’s snowing. There’s a power cut. He has a gun and you’re going to offer him sex?”

  Megan shrugged and stared at Claire. If she had a better idea, now was the time to share. She sat back on her heels, folded her arms and waited. No? That’s what she thought. Megan pointed in the direction of the guy then made a shooing gesture at Claire. Telling her to get on with it. Before her sister could object again, she started to crawl to the other end of the hedge, back towards the castle. Claire’s hand shot out to stop her. Megan squinted at her with a “what now?” gesture. Claire leaned in to whisper.

  “What will we do with him when I knock him out?”

  “Take him inside and interrogate him.”

  Claire gave her a look like she was nuts. Megan ignored it. She wasn’t the one who wanted to hang around to whisper in the snow.

  “What if I hit him too hard and kill him?” Claire worried her bottom lip.

  Megan’s heart filled at the sight. She gave Claire a quick hug and whispered the solution: “Grunt will help you hide the body.”

  Claire nodded, grinned, gave Megan a thumbs-up and resumed her crawl towards the guy with the gun—reassured by the knowledge that there was nothing her husband wouldn’t do for her. Megan shook her head at her more cautious sister and resumed her crawl. She made it to the end of the hedge, beside the house, before standing. She dusted off the snow, pulled off her hat and fluffed her long blonde hair so it framed her face. She then checked to see if Claire was in position, which was bloody hard considering it was pitch black and the falling snow blocked her view. She thought she saw her twin standing, holding the bat, but it could have been wishful thinking on Megan’s part. Either way, there was no going back now.

  She plastered what she hoped was a seductive smile on her face and stepped around the hedge. The guy swung towards her. His gun pointed at her chest. Megan licked her lips and batted her lashes.

  “Hey, big boy, fancy a good time?” she said.

  The guy looked bewildered for a second before there was a dull crack and he fell face first into the snow.

  Megan ran towards him as Claire dropped to her knees beside the guy. She pulled off her gloves and felt his neck.

  “He’s alive,” she said on a sigh. “Yay for me.”

  “Get the gun,” Megan ordered. “We need to take him inside before they notice he’s missing.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Claire picked up the gun—it could have been a rifle, Megan wasn’t sure, but she was damned well going to Google it when her phone was working. Claire used the attached strap and hung the gun over her shoulder like a handbag.

  “We have experience with this. If we could haul your abnormally massive husband across a grassy verge when he was unconscious, we can move this guy into the castle.” She eyed the man, noticed his face was still in the snow and turned his head so he didn’t suffocate. “He’s nowhere near as big as Grunt and we can slide him on the snow. Easy peasy. Grab an arm.”

  “Fine.” Claire grabbed his arm. “But we need to stop knocking men out and moving them around. It isn’t good for my back. I don’t do enough yoga to deal with this crap.”

  “Whatever.”

  They slid the man over the snow and back towards the door they’d come through. It was surprisingly easy to get him where they wanted him. Between the snow outside and Caroline’s polished wooden floor, they had him stored in the downstairs toilet in no time at all.

  “Help me tie him to the toilet, and then you can go to the pub and get the guys while I interrogate him.”

  “He’s out cold. I don’t think he’s up for answering questions.”

  They stared at the guy. He was kind of cute. Short brown hair, manly stubble and firm jaw.

  “Do you think it’s a gift that we only knock out good-looking guys?” Megan asked.

  “Just don’t marry this one,” Claire said. “I don’t think people would appreciate him after he attacked the castle.”

  “Grunt kidnapped Jena and people still like him,” Megan pointed out.

  “That wasn’t a real kidnapping.”

  Megan assessed the guy. He was too big to get onto the toilet, so he’d have to stay on the floor.

  “Take off your belt and scarf.”

  “I like this scarf,” Claire whined as she unwrapped it. “Grunt bought it for me in Madrid.”

  Megan held her hand out until Claire handed it over. Together they made short work of tying his arms around the bottom of the toilet, under the u-bend to make sure he couldn’t get away. Then they tied his ankles to the old iron radiator. There was no way that sucker was coming off the wall.

  “Better gag him. You don’t want him shouting for help.”

  “Smart.” Megan stuffed the hand towel into his mouth and secured it to his head with her scarf, which, she had to admit, wasn’t as pretty as Claire’s.

  They surveyed their work and it was good.

  “Okay, you need to go get Grunt and Lake,” Megan said. “I’ll find Joe and tell him we have a hostage. Good luck.”

  She gave her sister a tight hug.

  “I’ll be back soon with the cavalry.” Claire headed back out the side door.

  “I know,” Megan whispered after her. She didn’t doubt her sister for a second.

  When Claire had disappeared into the night, Megan shut the bathroom door on her captive and went in search of Joe.

  “What the hell are you doing back here?” Joe snapped when Megan literally ran into his oversized chest as he came out of the kitchen.

  He held his gun tight in his hand. His shoulders were tense and the happy-go-lucky smile was gone.

  “Trouble?” Megan nodded to the kitchen.

  “The guys are scouting the exterior, but they haven’t made a move to come inside. Yet. I counted three, but there’s probably more. Now, want to tell me why you’re here instead of on your way into town? You’re supposed to be getting help. And where’s Claire? If anything happened to her, I may as well shoot myself right now. It’ll save Grunt the trouble.”

  Megan stared at him for a second. “Has anyone ever told you you’re really tense?” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to answer her. “Claire’s on her way to the pub. And there are definitely more than three guys. One of them is tied up in the downstairs loo waiting for us to interrogate him.”

  Joe gaped at her, which made Megan
wonder if he was really cut out for life as a soldier for hire.

  8

  * Rainne and Alastair *

  Rainne’s bout of anger disappeared as fast as it had flared. She covered her mouth with her hands as she gasped. She’d hit a man with a head injury. She started to hyperventilate. This was not good. Not good at all. Alastair had blood caked to the side of his head and his pallor was grey. He swayed on his feet, but was too damn stubborn to lean on the truck. And she’d hit him. On the head. His injured head.

  “What the hell, Rainne?” He rubbed his cheek.

  “Sorry?” She shook her head. No, she was definitely sorry. “I snapped. I hope I didn’t damage your brain further. I’ve never hit anyone before, and I realise this is not the time to start. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. You hit like a girl.”

  “I am a girl.” Now she was a confused girl.

  “Never mind that.” Alastair waved a hand, dismissing her. “We need to start walking into town.”

  “No. We need to get out of the cold and tend to your injuries. The closest place is the guardhouse beside the castle gate.”

  Alastair shook his head, then flinched. Very carefully, as though trying not to move, he looked at her. “Are you nuts? There’s a guy with a gun at the castle. We don’t know how many friends he has with him. We need to get away from the place, not move closer to it.”

  Rainne could feel herself wilting under his indomitable will. Every cell within her wanted to back off and avoid a confrontation. But she’d spent three years growing a backbone, and she was damn well going to use it.

  “There hasn’t been any sign of life at the guardhouse. I’ve been watching. No noise. No light. Nothing. If you want to walk to town, on you go, but you can barely stand, so I don’t know how you’ll make it through the snow. You’ll probably pass out and die of hypothermia, but hey, you don’t need help, so you’ll be fine. Meanwhile, I plan to head to the guardhouse, where there’s warmth, shelter and hopefully a landline so I can call the police.”

  When she finished her rant she stood before him, shaking but determined. She hoped desperately he wouldn’t call her bluff, because there was no way she’d let Alastair walk to town alone, not when he was injured and needed her help. Even if he couldn’t admit it.

  “What happened to you?” He stared at her as though she was incomprehensible. “You were sweet and colourful. You worried about offending everyone.”

  “In other words, I always did what anyone told me to do.”

  He snorted. “Guess that’s where I went wrong. I should have told you to stay instead of asking you nicely.”

  Rainne took the flashlight from where it was balanced on the wheel and thrust at it him—when what she really wanted to do was lob it at his head. Apparently the new Rainne had no problem with anger or violence. “You’ll need this more than I will.”

  With that, she went for the big exit and turned towards the castle. She really, really hoped she wasn’t shot when she got there. And she really, really hoped Alastair didn’t die in the snow without her to protect him.

  Alastair watched Rainne stride determinedly through the snow in the direction of the castle. Her purple moon boots were swallowed by each step she took, and she wobbled on her feet. But the stubborn mule kept on going. He could practically hear her thinking. She’d be grumbling about how unreasonable he was—while at the same time worrying about him. He shook his head and instantly regretted it when pain shot through his temple.

  She didn’t have an ounce of common sense. What was she thinking going back to the castle? What was she going to do if the guy with the gun was waiting? Lecture him on how to stage a peaceful protest? She was too soft-hearted. Ignorant of the evil people were capable of doing. He was pretty sure her head was filled with unicorns and rainbows.

  The snow was falling so thickly now he could barely see her. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t let her go alone. It was like abandoning a kitten.

  Damn it to hell.

  With unsteady steps, he followed the woman who’d ripped out his heart and left him to rebuild a life without her. The woman he’d promised to never let near him again. Aye. That was the woman he was chasing through the bloody snow like an idiot.

  “Wait,” he said when he got close enough for her to hear.

  She stopped dead in her tracks and seemed to take several steadying breathes before turning to him. Alastair ignored the hope in her eyes, the same way he ignored the pain in his side and wrist, and the thumping in his head.

  “Stay low,” he told her.

  Her eyes went wide. “Crawl?” She looked down at the thick, fluffy snow. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Crouch, not crawl.”

  “Oh, that makes sense.”

  She needed a keeper. His heart spasmed, adding another pain to the list. He’d wanted to be that for her. But she’d made it very clear he wasn’t her choice for the job.

  “Let’s go.” He nodded towards the darkness that swallowed the guard building. “I’ll put the flashlight on low and keep it tilted to the ground. In this weather, they shouldn’t see it.”

  “You can dim it?” She seemed fascinated.

  Alastair grunted and switched the thing to the lowest setting. A faint beam illuminated Rainne’s face.

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly working up the courage to say something. “Do you want to lean on me?”

  “No.” The word came out sharp, like a bullet. He didn’t want to touch her at all because part of him, deep inside, knew if he did he’d want to keep on touching her and never stop.

  “Of course,” she muttered. “Alastair Stewart doesn’t need anyone for anything. He can do it all on his own. Okay, let’s get inside.”

  They fought their way through the darkness, the cold biting at them, the thick snow swallowing their feet. Each step was agony. The snow was halfway up Alastair’s calves and his jeans were soaked. He glanced over at Rainne. The snow was over the top of her moon boots, probably seeping into them. The padding on her boots wouldn’t be much use if it was wet. At least her coat was doing its job. It was decently padded and came down to mid-thigh. He wondered if it was padded with proper down or some synthetic crap that wouldn’t fend off moisture long enough to keep her properly warm. And what the hell was she wearing on her head? Her woollen hat had eyes. And possibly ears. He frowned. So much for her growing up—she’d obviously chosen the hat for the novelty factor rather than practicality. It was too thin for this weather. She’d have been better off with a waterproof hat with a fur lining.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Rainne whispered.

  Alastair looked around. She was right. Although the fact they could only see a couple of feet in front of them meant if someone was out there, they wouldn’t know.

  “The guardhouse looks empty,” she said.

  “That doesn’t mean it is empty.”

  She nodded. “But it’s got that feel about it, you know. The one where it seems hollow because the filling is missing.”

  Yeah, she had totally reinvented herself all right. Not.

  Alastair motioned for her to crouch down behind the stone wall that flanked the open gate. She did as she was told, and he wondered why she couldn’t have been that obedient earlier.

  “I’ll go check out the building,” he whispered, each word making a cloud in front of his face.

  “You’re injured. I should go.”

  “No.”

  “You are unreasonably stubborn, Alastair Stewart. It’s not an attractive quality in a man. But fine, if your poor, fragile male ego has to do this, then on you go. When you pass out in the snow, I’ll drag you inside. I hope your manliness can cope with that.” She folded her arms over her purple coat and frowned at him.

  “I think I can live with that.”

  He uncurled from his crouched position. Too fast. The world tilted and his hand shot out to hold on to the snow-clad stones. He closed his eyes and waited
for the feeling to settle. A minute. He just needed a minute. When he opened them, Rainne was gone.

  What the hell?

  He ignored the stab of panic that made his mouth dry, and scanned the darkness. There. A faint light. She was using her phone to illuminate her way to the guardhouse. And she called him stubborn? She wasn’t even trying to be stealthy. She was just trudging forward, a huge purple target in the white snow. Heading towards a building she felt was empty.

  Alastair was running after her before he even realised his feet were moving. He sucked in a lungful of icy air, tucked his aching wrist against his ribs and raced to get ahead of her. If there was someone in there, she wasn’t equipped to deal with them. A niggle at the back of his mind reminded him he was injured and asked if he was in any better state to fight someone off. He squashed it down. At least he knew how to fight. Plus, he had at about a foot of height and at least eighty pounds of bulk on Rainne. At the very least, he could stand in front of her and form a wall between her and whatever came at her.

  The frustrating woman had been back in town all of five minutes and already he was going insane from worry. And it didn’t matter how many times he told himself she was someone else’s problem. There wasn’t anyone else around. He was it.

  ♦♦♦

  Rainne tiptoed, as much as was possible in knee-deep snow, to the door of the guardhouse. Really it was a one-room building built in a hexagonal shape that sat beside the huge ornate iron gates. The previous owners of the castle had put a small en suite in the old building and planned to rent the place out to tourists. The main problems with their plan were that the room was tiny, the location isolated and Invertary didn’t get many tourists.

  Rainne turned the door handle. Not locked. She pushed it open and stepped into the darkened room. It was so small, if someone had been in there, she’d have seen them straight away. Definitely empty.