Not Without Juliet

chapter THIRTY-ONE



The bathroom door burst open.

“She’s gone!” a man shouted.

“No, I’m not,” she hollered and sat up in the tub.

An agent jumped sideways with a gun pointed at her.

“Nevermind,” he hollered toward the door. “She’s here.”

He kept his gun trained on her while she stretched her shoulders—the tub was far too short for her to have slept comfortably.

Then she laughed as the pins and needles worked themselves out of her muscles. Out of all the things that had frightened her in the last ten days, the guy with the gun was the least frightening of all.

“He’s awake,” another man said from the hallway. “He says it wasn’t her.”

The agent sneered at her but holstered his gun. Then he went out and shut the door.

“What?” she called over the side of the tub. “No apology?”

About five minutes later, the door opened again.

The squatty one must have picked the short straw. He stood back with his feet braced apart like he thought she was going to rush him. He looked so nervous, she hoped they didn’t allow him to keep real bullets in his gun. Thankfully, he hadn’t drawn that weapon, yet.

She climbed out of the tub and stretched.

Squatty nodded the direction she was supposed to go. She wanted to yell boo! at him as she passed, but she was afraid she’d get shot for it. Some laughs just aren’t worth dying for, but she couldn’t help holding up her hands and shaking them.

“Uh, oh. Where’d my handcuffs go?”

Squatty’s eyes bulged and she thought he was going to pee himself. Then he frowned. He must have remembered she hadn’t been cuffed in the first place.

She chuckled while he nudged her down the wide hallway and into a large study. The very handsome middle-aged man in the suit sat behind the desk and smiled. He’d been the same man who’d been sitting in the great hall when they’d all been escorted out of the cellar.

She smiled back.

Behind her right foot, something snorted, and she jumped. But it wasn’t an animal—it was Quinn. He was lying on his stomach with his hands cuffed behind him. His head was up, though, and he winked.

She was thrilled to see him and worried about the handcuffs, but with as nervous as everyone seemed to be, she didn’t dare kneel next to him. Since their little conversation in the bathroom, he’d taken the time to change into jeans, but he still had on the loose yellow shirt he’d been wearing since they’d returned from Muirsglen. And he was barefoot.

Nice jeans, she thought, but she’d have to study them later.

She turned back to the suit. “What did he do?”

The man’s smile turned into a grin. She didn’t trust him worth spit.

“Assaulted one of my men,” he said.

“Allegedly,” Quinn said cheerfully.

“Well, I’m not about to disbelieve my own agent, Mr. Ross. And I doubt he bloodied his own nose.”

Quinn laughed. “Is he certain it was me?”

A man walked in from the hallway with a small bag of ice held to his face.

“Oh, I’m quite certain it was you,” he said, and drew back a foot, just a little, to kick Quinn, but stopped when Jules pointedly cleared her throat. He stepped away from her and moved to the window like he thought she might sully his suit. But she would have done more than that if he’d have finished that kick.

Montgomery barged in behind the injured man, ignoring the policeman hanging around his neck. Someone from the hallway hollered for a stun gun. The policeman jumped down and backed out the door.

“What the devil have ye done to me nephew?” Monty took Quinn by the shoulders and helped him to his feet. “Well?” He turned a threatening frown toward the suit.

The suit just grinned. “Just one moment, sir, while Chambers here gets a good look at you. Perhaps he’s not so certain who struck him after all.”

Chambers looked from Ross to Ross and back again.

“Shit,” he said, then stormed out.

The suit nodded to another man who stepped forward to take off Quinn’s cuffs.

Quinn smiled. “Thank you, uncle.”

“Not at all. But be quick about this, if ye can. We’re waitin’ that special supper on ye.” Monty threw Jules a wink, then left.

Someone in the hallway shouted, “Halt!”

Another shouted, “Tase ‘im!”

“Shite!” shouted a masculine, but high voice.

There was a loud thud, then a knocking.

After a second or two of silence, they heard Monty’s laughter moving away.

The Suit rolled his eyes and mumbled something about hoping someone got it in the ass.

“Please, Ms. Bell, take a seat,” he said. “Let’s get on with it so I can save the remainder of my men from well-meaning Highlanders.”

Jules plopped into one of the two chairs facing the desk. She thought Quinn would take the other one, but he came to stand behind her instead. She was surprised how glad she was to feel him so near. Then it hit her—she wasn’t alone. And if she played her cards right, if she tried to be as nice to these Scots as they were to her, she might not ever be alone again.

“It’s not Bell. It’s Ross,” Quinn said. “Juliet Ross. My wife.”

Jules bit her lip. She couldn’t believe he was lying to a government agent.

The suit raised a brow and brought his fingers together. His elbows rested on the arms of the large red leather chair.

“Married?” he said. “We have no record of it. Let me guess. This wedding was rather recent?”

“We’re handfasted,” Quinn replied. “You understand handfasting, Lord Dunbar?”

This guy is a Lord? And what the hell is handfasting?

Dunbar threw his head back and laughed. “You know that won’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” Quinn bent down and whispered in her ear. “That business we conducted in the loo, lass, was Scottish marriage the old way. Yer mine now.”

All Jules got out of it was loo and marriage. He’d married her in the bathroom? Was he effing kidding?

There was no time to find out.

“And I’m certain,” Quinn addressed Dunbar again, “the legality of handfasting would have to be addressed, as would any extradition of a British citizen, would take a wee while to sort out.”

She really didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. She wanted to go back to the states. And she needed to go now.

“Look,” she said. “I have to get to New York, to testify. If we don’t get moving, it will be too late.”

If anyone could get her there in time, it should be these guys.

Dunbar stopped playing with his fingers and leaned forward. “I’m afraid your testimony is no longer necessary. The defendant was murdered.”

“Defendant? You mean Gabby?” Her heart sped up. It was all she could hear.

Gabby was dead? Her Gabby?

“Gabby Skedros is dead?” She was finally able to ask it out loud. “You’re sure?”

“I’m afraid so.” Dunbar watched her closely. “He was poisoned. Of course you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? You’ve been in Scotland since you landed nearly two weeks ago?”

He’d said it, but he didn’t believe it. His condescending tone made her nauseous. He was no different than the Feds she’d dealt with for months, trying to make her feel like a guilty prisoner, instead of the witness they were supposed to be protecting. But with Gabby dead, she wouldn’t need protecting anymore.

“I didn’t want Gabby dead,” she said. “I wanted to look him in the eye when I testified. I wanted to tell him what a coward he was for shooting a defenseless boy. I wanted to assure him that Nikkos would have hated him in those seconds before he died. I wanted to show him he would never get the chance to betray me like that. I was going to betray him. For Nikkos.”

Quinn’s hand rested on her shoulder and she reached up and touched his fingers. She wanted to double over and puke out the hate she’d been carrying around for a man that was already dead. She didn’t need to hold onto it anymore. She could let it go. And she did. In a flood of silent tears.

She didn’t care who saw, or what they thought. She had to let it out.

She had Quinn. And she didn’t want that stored up hate anywhere near him.

Jules thought of Percy and the fact that he would never have to taste that intense hatred of his father. And she wouldn’t either. She was done. It was over. She and Percy would move on.

Quinn cleared his throat. “If her testimony is no longer required, why the need to restrain her?”

Dunbar’s smile helped her get a grip. She could almost hear the rattle of his snake’s tale.

“Assault of a Federal Officer is a serious charge,” he said pleasantly. “An FBI agent by the name of Dixon is demanding her head, or at the very least, her extradition.”

Quinn laughed. “What did she do, bash him on the head?”

Jules laughed as she wiped away her tears. How well he knew her already.

Dunbar opened up a laptop and turned it to face her. Agent Dixon’s mug flashed up in a Skype frame.

She stopped laughing, but didn’t lose her smile.

“Hello, Dickie,” she chirped.

The man’s face turned red. It was always red. Easiest man in the world to goad. She couldn’t believe the FBI took him on.

“Yes, Lord Dunbar,” Dickie said. “That’s her. Be careful. She’s very dangerous. I’d suggest a full set of chains and perhaps a muzzle for transport.”

Quinn reached over and spun the laptop away from her. “Lord Dunbar? May I have just a moment’s time to defend my wife?”

Dunbar smiled and nodded. “You may have five minutes. Then we’ll take her and go in spite of your handfasting. If you want to spend that five minutes defending her, be my guest, but—”

Quinn was already gone.

She could hear him running down the hall and then...nothing.

Well, at least he was hurrying. Maybe he’d even get back in time for some macking before they hauled her out. And she needed to remind him that he would be in charge of taking care of Percy while she was gone. She just hoped she wasn’t going away for a very long time.

She refused to panic. She’d gone from witness to defendant so fast her head was spinning. They were going to have to give her some time before they could expect her to take them seriously.

But if she really was going to face charges, it would be Dickie’s word against hers. She’d only been defending herself from the slime ball. Surely the ass had treated other witnesses like he’d treated her. She just had to insist the FBI look into that. But it might take some time. She just hoped Quinn’s and Percy’s lives wouldn’t move on before she could make it back.

Of course, she’d have plenty of money for the ticket, but that hardly raised her heart rate anymore. Money was everything ten days ago. Now there were so many more things in line ahead of it.

Well, not things—people.

Quinn came back in the room breathing hard. He gave her a wink, but didn’t come to her for some quality goodbyes. He walked around the desk and shared a very private whisper with Lord Dunbar.

Lord Dunbar cleared his throat, like he was trying to cover up the fact that he’d almost laughed. Then he nodded and turned forward.

“Proceed, Mr. Ross,” he said.

Quinn spun the laptop to face her again, then stood beside her.

“Agent Dixon, are you there?” he asked, even though the man’s face was filling the screen.

“Yes, I’m here,” he said, like he was doing everyone a favor by squeezing this conference call into his schedule.

“Is this the woman who assaulted you, sir?”

He took Juliet’s head and moved it until it was up close to the monitor.

“Yes. That’s her.”

“You’re certain?” Quinn’s hands wouldn’t let her sit back in her chair and she was dying to ask him what he was doing. Dunbar had one hand over his mouth and he was turning as red as Dickie.

Suddenly, Quinn let go of her head.

“Just one more moment, if you please, Agent Dixon.” He spun the laptop away again, then went to the doorway and pulled Jillian into the room. He gestured for Jules to get her ass out of the chair, then sat Jillian in her spot. He wiped the smile off his face and spun the laptop back.

“Hello, Dickie,” Jillian said.

The agent’s face darkened again. “What is this?”

“Just tell us what you see, Agent Dixon,” Quinn said.

Jules backed up against a bookcase to make sure she wasn’t part of the picture. She’d needed something to lean on anyway.

“I see the face of my assailant. How many times do I have to say it?”

Quinn butted in front of Jillian and grinned into Dickie’s face. “That should do it, I think.” He spun the laptop back to face Lord Dunbar. “My lord?”

Dunbar cleared his throat and sat forward in his crisp expensive suit to address the screen.

“Agent Dixon. You have just positively identified two different females, and I refuse to extradite a handful of British citizens just so you can take your pick. I strongly suggest you drop the charges against Juliet Bell—that is, Juliet Bell Ross—and if you feel we have erred, please invite your American superiors to contact me personally. I, for one, am certain they will find today’s events to be quite amusing.”

Lord Dunbar snapped the laptop shut and gave Jules a wink. Then he turned to Quinn.

“You might have made an entertaining barrister, Mr. Ross.”

“Once upon a time, my lord, I was.”

Dunbar laughed. “With a wife like yours, that experience should come in handy.”

Quinn gave a little bow.

“And Mr. Ross?” Dunbar got up from the desk and gestured for his men to leave the room ahead of him. “I’d make it legal before Dickie there comes to call.”

Quinn tilted his head back and gave Jules a look through narrowed eyes.

“Oh, I intend to, my lord. I intend to.”

Quinn reached out a hand and drew her away from the bookshelf and over to the window. Jillian joined them and together they watched eight cars fill with suits and policemen before moving down the drive toward the remnants of Castle Ross.

“They’ve prepared a little wedding supper for us, Mrs. Ross,” he murmured as he nuzzled her behind the ear.

Chills flooded her body, but it wasn’t quite enough to make her forget.

“Mrs. Ross? You must be talking to Jillian because I sure as hell didn’t just get married in a bathroom.”

Quinn cleared his throat. Then cleared it again.

“Don’t worry, sister,” said Jillian. “We’ll make sure he gets it right.” She walked to the door, then paused. “Don’t take too long with your apology, Quinn. Supper’s still waiting. And my sons and I are starved.” She patted her stomach. “Tomorrow, we can run to the city and get that package from Grandmother’s lawyer.”

Jules nodded, but food and a mysterious package weren’t enough to get her attention when she was about to be left alone with her very own Highlander, and there were no bars or benches between them.

The door snapped shut, but Quinn took two long strides and opened it again.

“Pity, Jillian!” His voice boomed in the hallway. He sounded way too much like Montgomery for comfort. “Have pity! Eat without us!” Then he stepped back and slammed the door.

Jules laughed. “You watch. Monty will be up here before I can forgive you enough to kiss you.”

Quinn walked back to her slowly, freezing her with a look that made running away impossible...and unthinkable. She also found it hard to breathe.

“Don’t believe it,” he said. “That man was a witness to our ceremony. He gave you to me. I’ve already explained, you’re mine now.”

He gathered her into his arms and her hands found their way around his neck. His thick black hair caressed the backs of her fingers, inviting them to play. His face turned deadly serious as he lowered his forehead to hers.

“Pity, Juliet. Have pity.” He smiled then. “My uncle will be busy fighting Jillian for a small share of supper. Have you ever seen your sister eat?”

They laughed and sighed, then they got down to apologizing and forgiving. The apologizing was quick and sincere. The forgiving took a very, very long time.


THE END