Authors: Sarah Hoss
Chapter 7
Malcolm strolled into the diner on the corner of Jackson and Ohio Streets and sat down at a booth. Music from the 50’s played on a jukebox in the left-hand corner at the back of the diner. Memorabilia littered the walls, which were painted light teal and had metal trim around the middle. Pictures of Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, and Frank Sinatra sat side-by-side. Old albums, a slightly used guitar, and a pair of black-and-white saddle shoes had become a part of the décor.
A couple sat at the bar and the woman leaned into the man and asked him a question. The man nodded and dug into his pocket for change. He watched her as she made her way to the jukebox.
“Can I get you something to drink, sugar?”
Malcolm glanced up at the waitress who was dressed in a waitress’s uniform of the same era. He smiled as he watched her blow a bubble with her chewing gum. This was one of the things he liked about America. Their love of its history.
“I would like a cup of tea, please.”
Raising her eyebrows, she winked at him. “Sure thing. Here’s a menu. I’ll be right back.”
What he wouldn’t give to have a home-cooked meal from Scotland. As it was, he would have to endure the food of America. Some things he had tried weren’t too bad, but it just wasn’t home.
When the waitress came back, she sat down his drink and pulled out a pad of paper to take his order.
“I’m waiting for friends.”
“All right, I’ll keep an eye out for when you’re ready.”
“Thanks,” he said and glanced out the window as she walked away.
Malcolm turned the business card over and over between his fingers. “Take Me Back in Time Antique Store. The owner is listed as Abigail Crenshaw.”
He peered up from the card to stare out the window. The waitress approached and took orders from Christina, John, and Graham.
“Sir?”
Malcolm stirred from his thoughts and glanced at the waitress.
“Are you ready to order?”
He was. His stomach growled. There was a mixture of the sweet-smelling pies sitting in the pie holder on the counter and the greasy allure of hamburgers and bacon.
“Give me the Number Three and hold the tomato, please.”
The waitress winked at him. “You ordered that just like an American, but your accent gives you away.”
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone,” he said, and she laughed.
Malcolm turned to the others. “I’ll go on Wednesday to get the shield. You know the drill by now.” Tapping his fingers on the table, he thought for a moment before speaking.
“How much longer do we have, John?”
Sighing, he replied, “Two months.”
Malcolm leaned back against the teal and white leather seat, stretching his arm out over the back. “We may have to change our plans. Time is running out, and it’s time I can’t afford to lose.”
Chapter 8
The bell above the door rang, alerting Abigail of a customer. Rolling her head to stretch her neck muscles, sore from looking down at paperwork for hours, she stood and left her office.
Sunlight shone in through the two large storefront windows. The crystal bowl in the left window decorating the corner was caught in a rainbow light display. She glanced over to the front of the store where her employee dusted and then strolled toward the counter. A gentleman stood to the side of the door examining a roll top desk. His back was to her and she studied him.
He was tall and had a head full of short, blond hair. The man wore Levi jeans that fit exactly as they should and a brown jean jacket. Her eyes ventured down one more time to his ass before she spoke.
“May I help you?” She rested her hands on the counter.
The man straightened and turned slowly to glance over his shoulder. As he walked toward her, Abigail felt her heart beat faster. He was gorgeous. Never had she seen such a perfect specimen of a man in all her life. He walked with an air of security and strength. The smile he gave her was meant to disarm and it worked because for a brief moment, she forgot she was in her store and he was a customer.
Shifting her feet, she focused on the task at hand.
How embarrassing to be caught string at him like some lovesick kid.
“Yes, I believe you can.”
“Oh my gosh, Grant, it’s you?” Shaking her head in disbelief, she looked him up and down one more time. She would know him anywhere for she had stared at his picture long enough to memorize it.
“I can’t believe you’re here. You’re early.” Stepping around the counter, she took a few steps closer to him. “I wasn’t expecting you until Friday.”
He stared at her for a moment as if he had no idea what she was talking about but quickly schooled his features. Why? Maybe she’d surprised him and threw him off guard.
“I had the chance to get an earlier flight.”
“Wonderful.” Waving at him to follow her, she said, “Come with me. We can sit in my office and talk.” Turning, she led the way.
Malcolm stood still for a moment trying to gather his wits. She thought he was Grant, which meant that Grant and this woman have been in contact.
SHIT!
Grant was getting close, too close. Time was running out on him and he couldn’t get this close to his goal only to have Grant screw it up for him. He had to think fast.
“Grant, are you all right” She stood near her office door.
He smiled for her sake. “Aye, no need to worry. I was listening for a moment is all. I thought I heard my phone ring.” He strode toward her though his feet itched to turn and go. He didn’t know what was going on but he was on a mission. He would play along because in the end . . . she had what he wanted.
“You’ll have to come to dinner tonight, please.” Abigail reached for a piece of paper and scribbled her address down on it. Handing it to Grant, she smiled. “We could talk and get to know each other better.”
“I think that would be a wonderful idea, but I would like to take you out to dinner instead. That way, we can relax. What time?”
“Okay, how about six-thirty?” She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in question and smiled. She had always wanted to meet the stranger that had crept into her life almost a year ago. They had many things in common. When he’d said he was coming to America she didn’t think she had ever been so excited in her life, except when she found out the shield was real. Now, he was here and he was gorgeous. She could get lost in his brown eyes forever.
An antique clock ticked away the seconds behind her head.
“Six-thirty it is then. I look forward to it.”
“Great, me, too.”
He laughed, and the effect was smooth like honey. Warm and thick. She melted.
“Now I would love a tour of your store.”
He stood and reached out his hand for her. Placing her palm in his, she stood and walked around the desk. His hand was large and warm and she loved the way it felt holding hers.
“This way.”
She strolled through her store, acutely aware of the sexy Scotsman following two steps behind her. She pointed to a creamer standing near an old pie cabinet. They spoke about the year of the piece and how it was used. She watched Grant as he studied the store and all the pieces she had. He was truly interested in history as she was, one of the things she loved about him. Their mutual enjoyment of the past was what had brought them together in the first place.
Grant’s cell phone rang, and he excused himself. As he took a couple of steps away from her, she took the moment to busy herself, sneaking glances at him from under her lashes. She pretended to wipe away dust that didn’t exist from the creamer.
“Abigail, I’m sorry. I must leave. Forgive me.”
“No,” she said as she waved her hand in the air, “it’s okay.”
“You’re sweet.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “I look forward to tonight.”
She could feel her cheeks heat. “So do I.”
Chapter 9
Malcolm sat in his car outside of 1745 Lexington Dr. The gray, stone-washed house sat back on a small lot in a manicured neighborhood. Lights lined the flowerbeds in the front and a security light perched on the back corner of the house near the garage. Anyone who approached the back door triggered the light. He decided to come early so he could scope out her house and the neighborhood. He needed to know who came and went and when. When he decided to start scoping Abigail’s place out, he was trying to find a way in. Who would ever have thought she’d invite him. Maybe this time, luck was on his side. The shield would either be his salvation or his damnation. Only one of those choices was acceptable. Since the shield wasn’t at her store, it had to be here at the house.
The clock on the dashboard read 6:10. The car window was down and he turned to search the area when a dog, somewhere a couple of houses away, started to bark. The quietness was deafening and set him on edge. He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. Looking straight ahead, he watched as a family sat down to dinner. Everyone at the table sat in a glow of soft light. The mother dished out the food to everyone and the father ruffled one of the boys’ hair and they laughed. So picture perfect it belonged on a postcard and he had to look away. His heart was broken and another piece fell.
Thoughts of his wife floated through his mind like a dandelion on the wind, slow and lazy. He missed her. No, not missed her. His heart ached for her. People say that all the time that their heart aches, but he truly felt the pain. He pictured the last time he saw her. Their anniversary, and he’d surprised her by taking her out to dinner. He opened the door on the car for her and held out his hand. Just as she stood, the wind picked up and rustled her strawberry-blonde hair. Blue eyes sparkled with love for him as she looked at him. There was no one like her.
Slowly, as he bent to kiss her, she whispered, “I love you, Malcolm.”
A tear slipped down his cheek at the memory. He took a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs completely.
I’ll make it right, Keltie, I swear.
He slowly exhaled, then stared at the door. Opening and closing his fists, he stood still. It didn’t get any easier each time he did this. He rang the doorbell and waited. This woman had his shield and he was determined to get it back and quickly since it seemed Grant was on his way to America this very second. Malcolm balled a fist. He had less than one day to get the shield and get the hell out of town.
Abigail opened the door, and he smiled. He could do this. Stepping into the house, he began his perusal of her home. He took everything in—which rooms lay where, where the back door was, and most important, he noticed there was no security system. This would make their job a lot easier.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Me, too, and I thank you for having me.”
As Abigail grabbed his hand he glanced down at the connection. “Follow me, I have something to show you.”
Such a simple gesture. Innocent in nature, yet it flooded him with a mixture of emotion. He wasn’t here to be her friend. Hell, she didn’t even know who he truly was. She thought he was Grant. Plus, the only hand he wanted to hold was that of his wife and as soon as he got the shield, the sooner he could make that happen.
Entering the living room, he turned to peer at the wall on his left. There it hung.
His history, his family heirloom, his salvation.
A means to an end.
“What do you think?” She turned to stare at him. “It’s remarkable, isn’t it?”
Malcolm walked over to the shield and stood. It looked so out of place hanging on her wall. It didn’t belong here. It didn’t belong anywhere but in his family’s castle in Scotland. Just like his wife didn’t belong anywhere other than in his arms.
He brought his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. He had to focus. He couldn’t afford to let his mind wander now. What was it about being here that kept his wife’s memory at the forefront of his thoughts? He had a mission. Get the shield back and then get his revenge.
A light touch on his arm brought him back.
“Are you okay, Grant?”
“Grant?” Realization slammed into him. “Yes, I’m sorry. I have new contacts and I don’t think they fit well.” He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache.
“I’m sorry. Would you like some aspirin?”
“Aye, that would be great. Thank you.” Abigail turned to leave, and he stopped her. “Thanks for being so kind.”
She smiled and it lit up her whole face. His heart ached at having to hurt her.
“You are most welcome. Now, let me go get you that aspirin and we can go.”
As soon as she left the room, Malcolm squared his shoulders and made a call. “It’s done. The house will be empty in 20 minutes. I’ll give you two hours.” Snapping his phone shut, he left the room in search of Abigail.
Chapter 10
Grant stepped out of the airport terminal into the waiting area and stretched his back after the long flight from Scotland to America. His muscles ached from having to sit for so long in the cramped seat. He searched the lobby for information. Glancing to his left, he saw an employee standing at the gate.
“I wonder if you could point me in the direction of the car rental store.” He flashed the lady one of his best smiles. She blushed and smiled back.
“Of course, Sir.” She pointed to the right. “You need to go to those escalators over there and go down to the next floor. Once you step off the escalators, continue straight ahead. It’s at the very end of the airport on the left.”
“I thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
He grabbed his bag and walked briskly to the baggage claim to gather his suitcase. Anticipation ran through him. He couldn’t help it. He was close, so close.
Sitting in the rental car, he checked his watch. Too early to call home. A six-hour difference would put it at 2:34 a.m. in Scotland. First things first, he needed to get to his hotel room and get some sleep. Tomorrow, he would find Abigail and hopefully, the missing shield.
Thoughts of Abigail ran through his mind, and he smiled, his blood warming a little at the thought of finally meeting her. For months he had been communicating with her through a computer and only spoken to her once on the telephone. The sound of her voice was like the warm sun on a cool day, pleasing and soft.
He’d put off having a relationship for a long time. The search for the shield had been a personal mission. Besides, the last relationship he had with Margo had been a disaster. In her, he had seen a future and all she saw in him was a castle. He’d loved her, though, and had tried to see past her faults until he couldn’t any longer. The night he broke off their relationship flashed in his mind and he flinched. Too much wine, too much arguing, too much of everything until her car crashed. Then it was simply too much blood and too much heartache. He’d had a front-row view of the whole thing from the street as she had driven away from him. Turning on the radio, he searched until he found the right station. Something, anything to take his mind in a new direction. Margo was the last thing he wanted to think about. The problem was, as much as he liked Abigail and wanted to get to know her better, he wasn’t sure if she had something to do with the shield being stolen. And as much as he hated himself for thinking ill of her, he had to be prepared for anything. At this point, if he couldn’t trust his own cousin, who could he trust?
First things first, he would find his hotel in Louisville and grab a bite to eat. Anything other than food from the plane. Then tomorrow, he’d drive on into Stanton and meet Abigail. In less than 12 hours, all of this could be over. Hopefully . . .