Fergus laughed. “Ye think yer miserable life is what MacInnes wants? Ye think that is enough to repay all yer treachery? Oh no, my friend. Seoras MacInnes is a practical man and understands opportunity when he sees it.”
“What opportunity?”
Fergus shrugged. “This estate of yers sits conveniently close to Edinburgh. Routes in and out. Land quiet enough not to attract questions.”
Evan gave a sour laugh. “Are ye making me an offer?”
“Like I said, Seoras MacInnes is a practical man. He wouldnae allow personal vendettas to get in the way of business—not when he sees a better way to get what he wants. Allow us occasional use of this place. Storage. Transit. Nothing that need trouble yer sleep. In return...” He spread his hands. “Yer past indiscretions are forgiven. And yer people can sleep soundly in their beds.”
Forgiven. As though MacInnes were a priest absolving sin instead of a criminal tightening his grip.
“If I refuse?”
Fergus’s eyes hardened. “Ye know the answer to that.”
Evan’s mind raced. If he agreed, he knew what would happen. His land would become a hub for MacInnes’ criminal undertakings. Stolen goods passing through. Smuggled contraband. His people—Hamish, the farmers, the women and children—would be unwitting shields.
And then there was Ruby. His bright, fierce Ruby would be dragged into his darkness.
What a fool he was to think he could outrun this. MacInnes would never stop hunting him. His past would never stop coming for him.
Fergus studied him. “It is a generous offer. This way at least ye get to keep yer life.”
Evan let his shoulders sag. “I’ll need to think.”
Fergus exchanged a glance with the others. The grip on Evan’s arms loosened—a little. “Think quickly,” Fergus said. “MacInnes isnae a patient man.”
Evan lowered his head as though in defeat, but his muscles coiled. He shifted his weight subtly, testing his captor’s hold. The man restraining him leaned in with the movement, slightly off balance.
And that’s when Evan struck.
He twisted violently, dropping his weight then slamming backward into his captor’s knee. There was a shout of pain as the joint buckled. Evan wrenched one arm free, drove his elbow up into a throat, then surged to his feet.
Fergus swung at him. Evan met him head-on, fists flying, the world narrowing. He caught Fergus across the cheekbone, felt skin split beneath his knuckles. A blade flashed, but Evan seized the man’s wrist, slammed it against the wall until the knife clattered away.
But the last man recovered quickly, tackling Evan from the side. They hit the floor hard. Pain burst through Evan’s shoulder. A heavy weight pinned him, and he tasted iron as he bit the inside of his cheek.
“Stubborn bastard,” the man growled.
Then another sound cut through the chaos. A roar.
Hamish MacLaren barreled through the doorway like a charging bull, a staff clutched in both hands. He swung without hesitation, catching the nearest man across the temple. The crack of impact echoed through the room, and the man collapsed.
Fergus staggered back, surprised by the sudden assault. Evan surged up and drove his fist into Fergus’s jaw with everything he had left. Fergus dropped. The third man scrambled toward the door, but Hamish intercepted him, shoving him hard into the frame. His head struck wood and he crumpled. Silence fell, broken only by Evan’s ragged breathing.
Hamish stood over the fallen men, chest heaving. “Friends of yers?”
Evan wiped blood from his mouth and said nothing.
Hamish looked between the unconscious men and Evan. “Who are they, Evan?”
Evan swallowed. “Ye dinna want to know.”
“I do when strangers come onto our land bringing violence.”
“They work for a man called Seoras MacInnes. They came for me,” Evan said quietly.
He suddenly felt as if a hole was opening up beneath his feet and he was falling, falling, falling. MacInnes wouldn’t stop. He would keep hunting him. It was not safe for anyone to be around him. And that meant... Oh, God, that meant...
