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“Aye, well, they’re a motley lot, but I claim them as family, anyway.”
She smiled. “That’s nice. I’d love to have friends like that. My sister used to—” she touched her locket, rubbing the face of it. “Good friends. Family. They’re everything.”
“Aye,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Everything.”
Several minutes passed as they lay in silence. Both thinking about what they’d discussed, Marcus supposed. Or simply relishing their rare moment of peace, both knowing it had to end.
“Time tae go, Tait,” he whispered. “Or…Taylor?”
She pulled the tartan aside so they could get up. “The really strange thing is, I don’t feel like Taylor anymore.” Taking his hand to help her off the makeshift bed, she moved to the front of the van as he put things back in place. “Hannah, my sister used to call me Tay. So, Tait feels more natural.”
Marcus dinnae miss the pain in her voice when she spoke Hannah’s name. Or her use of the past tense. And he understood ’twas a story for another time. “Tay, then?”
“No.” Tait shook her head. “Tay belongs to Hannah. Let’s just leave it at Tait.”
“Aye,” he replied, liking that he could keep the name and the woman he’d come to cherish, intact. Now he needed to ensure she stayed that way, and out of the hands of any allies associated with the blackguard Giannetti.
Chapter 11
Tait paused outside the van after getting out to stretch muscles stiffened by too many hours cooped up in a vehicle. “This air is amazing. And I’ve never experienced such complete darkness. Or seen so many stars. And the quiet! I almost wish we could stay longer.”
“Aye.” Marcus winked and started the engine as she climbed back in. “But wait ’till we run away tae Scotland. ’Twill take yer breath away.”
“It’s a deal,” she laughed. “And you can introduce me to your seventy-nine friends.”
Marcus turned the van around and headed back down the service road. “They’re a bit scattered now, but we could make an adventure of visitin’ them all.”
She laughed. “You do like adventures, don’t you?”
“Aye,” he replied, “ ’Tis why I originally left Scotland. Though I intend tae go back. ’Tis my home. I cannae imagine settlin’ down anywhere else.”
“Originally?” She looked at him curiously. “And now?”
He turned to her with that enigmatic grin that put butterflies in her stomach. “I’m here tae capture yer heart, o’course.”
“Oh, of course,” she laughed, wishing he truly meant it. “Whendoyou plan on going back? Is there…someone expecting you? When I asked for your help, I didn’t intend to make it indefinite. Honest. Or to keep you from something, or someone?”
“Nae. I’ve no one expectin’ me.” He studied her for several long seconds. “And I dinnae have a return date scheduled.”
“Oh. Okay.” She looked around, picked up the map and held it close to the dash lights. “That’s…that’s good.” She squinted at the map in the dim light, hoping the heat on her cheeks wasn’t visible. “I just didn’t want you to feel obligated—or anything.”
“ ’Tisnae what I feel a’tall, lass,” Marcus replied softly.
She looked up at him, but his face was shadowed and unreadable. Finally, she turned her attention back to the map. “How far do you think we’ll go tonight?”
“ ’Tis up tae ye. My question iswhereare we goin’? Ye told me south tae Jackson Hole. But then where? Are we goin’ tae Salt Lake so ye can testify, or are we looking for a wee hiding spot somewhereoffyer map?”
Slumping back in her seat, Tait wrestled with the answer as Marcus pulled onto the main road and turned south. Inky silhouettes of trees flashed by her window as images of Luca lying in a pool of blood and Evan crumpled over a steering wheel, played in her mind.
And today, Elliot’s gun barrel pressed to Marcus’ forehead.
A shudder shook her shoulders.
How many people had to die? She had no idea what led to Luca’s death, but Evan died trying to keep her safe. And Marcus would have. Almost did. She owed them. Maybe even Luca too, in some way, and turning coward wasn’t the way she wanted to repay them.
She was weary—bone weary—of running. Of looking over her shoulder, afraid every minute of the day. Did she want to spend the rest of her days running? Hiding?
But beyond all that, she knew—had always known—she would testify because it was the right thing to do. The same reason she’d identified Giannetti to the police in the first place. She could have run back then. Wanted to. But her troublesome conscience wouldn’t let her. Not then. Not now.
