her life in his hands—she’d had all the excuse she needed to put a nice heavy pan to the side of his head. Then she’d used Dixon’s phone to send an email to the DA, promising she’d be back in time to testify. Then she’d slipped away.
She looked over at the hitter. Yeah, it hadn’t been just Gabby who’d taught her what a cold-blooded man was like.
The guy frowned. "Well, perhaps the Scottish version is no' so bad as the American."
She snorted. "Bullshit. A killer is a killer, even if he wears a badge."
If she could have mustered up some saliva, she’d have spit at him. She really needed some water.
His eyes narrowed. He hadn’t liked being called a killer.
Well, too bad.
"I'd been warned ye’d be a difficult handful. I believe they might have underestimated ye, lassie. Ye’ve a hard heart, to be sure."
"Hah! What do you know about hearts?"
She was on a roll. At least she’d be going out in a blaze of pithy glory.
“Ach, now, yer teeth are showin'. Why don't ye tuck in your claws and we'll have a nice wee stroll back to Castle Ross. Were ye aware how you'd gone in circles? Or did ye mean to do it? Did ye think ye could hie home to your witch’s tomb and leave me back here, in the past? Ye forget, I'm a local lad. It's a bit easier for me to swallow what's happened to us than it has been for ye. And I speak Scots too, only without the American accent, o' course. Ye never had a chance. Those lads reported yer every footstep.
“I must admit, I'm a mite impressed by you scarin' off the wolf as ye did. But now that we've had a chance to get to know each other a bit, I'm no' surprised in the least. No doubt you could scare the whole pack away with but the venom in your sweet voice.”
She was tempted to let him have it with her stick.
“If I didna have a job to do,” he added, “I'd leave ye be, here in the woods. But I wouldna be so cruel to animals, aye?”
She ignored his joke, too busy asking herself, Why didn't she let him have it with her stick?
He might not have considered it a weapon because she’d been using it as a walking stick. Or maybe it looked a little too brittle to cause any harm. If he hadn't been the one to see her chase the wolf away, maybe he didn't know she'd done so with her glorified toothpick.
She started thinking like a physicist again. Okay, so she’d only had one class, but still. It had worked with the wolf.
Weak stick. Big man. Weak spots.
They’d left the other men behind. Either McKiller was too cocky to think he needed help with her, or he couldn’t find anything in his pockets that might bribe them. So she only had to get away from one little man.
Okay, one big man.
The morning sun was up, lighting their wide, well-worn road. In the distance, a ridge had been stripped of trees. Stumps left behind looked like stubble on a giant jaw. It had to be the ridge that ran up behind Castle Ross. She was almost there! But then again, so was Gabby's man. A footrace to the hole would only continue what they'd started. Once they were back outside, she'd be racing up the hill to her car. He’d beat her to it since his car was probably still parked at the castle, or behind it.
As much as she wanted to go back, it would be futile. She’d be handed over to Gabby for the ultimate betrayal. And that wasn’t going to happen.
She dragged her foot over a rock and tripped, then stopped to adjust her shoe. McKiller let go of her arm, but stood with his hands ready to grab her. She rolled her eyes and walked on, but as she did, she began to limp.
“Ye're hurt?" He looked at her sideways, suspicious.
"Rock in my boot," she said. Then she stopped in the middle of the road and pretended to remove said rock. While she pulled the boot back on, he looked behind them for the hundredth time. "Better be careful,” she teased. “Some FBI agent might have followed us through time. Might be hiding in the bushes."
He snorted. "And that would frighten me, why?"
Her skinny piece of wood might not have had much mass, so thumping him on the head would have