A Highlander for Christmas (24 page)

“Even my old deaf aunt wouldn’t believe that piece of nonsense.”

Gasping, Maggie crossed a mound of bricks and slid into a ditch ankle-high with water. A cement pipe ran along the far side. Something moved near her foot. She didn’t want to think about what it was. “Remind me to wear paratrooper’s boots the next time I go
anywhere
with you.
”

Oily smoke filled her lungs as the backhoe’s lights flashed on. For a second Maggie was frozen by the blinding glare. Then Jared tugged her out into the middle of the ditch, while icy water swirled past her knees.

Teeth chattering, she plowed through the heaving debris. “What are you doing now?”

“First we tried hide-and-seek.” Frowning, Jared pointed at the black mouth of the drainpipe. “Now we’re going to play boot camp.”

“You mean crawl?” Maggie’s voice broke. “In there?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Oh, no. There’s no way you’re going to get me in there. Not with snakes and rats and heaven knows what else.” She cast a desperate glance over her shoulder, praying she’d been right about the innocence of the driver.

But the black shape was still coming.

“It’s this or the backhoe,” Jared said, pulling her in behind him.

Light flared above them. Glancing back, Maggie saw a figure hunched behind the wheel. The ground began to vibrate, shock waves traveling through the cold cement at her back. There was no more question of a mistake, she realized, as Jared tugged her forward into the darkness.

The pipe shook and then began to rise. She felt Jared’s shoulder brace hers.

“We’re moving,” she said hoarsely.

“He must have wedged the teeth beneath the mouth of the pipe.” Jared staggered backward as the cement floor shook, then tilted sharply. “The bloody fool.” He found a metal bar protruding from the wall of the pipe and gripped it tightly. “Grab my waist and hold on.”

Maggie gasped as she was tossed against him. She heard the puppy yip. “If I die in here, I’m going to murder you, MacNeill. Both Max and I will.”

His hands closed on her waist, pulling her closer, and Maggie was infinitely thankful for his strength as the cement pipe rocked again, tossing them about like matchsticks.

“Any other great plans?” she said through gritted teeth, as she struggled to stay upright.

“
One
.” Jared twisted, scanning the mouth of the pipe. “We jump.”

“
Jump?
”

Fear jangled Maggie’s nerves, but there was no time to protest. She hit the end of the pipe, Jared’s body wedged protectively beneath her. Her shoulder struck the rough cement, rocked her sideways, and then Jared pulled her into a roll just before he struck the ground, protecting her and the puppy.

“Run.” he ordered, scrambling to his feet and tugging her over the rutted soil.

Maggie followed, ignoring the stabbing pain in her right arm. Acrid smoke filled her lungs. She was only dimly aware of Jared, charging on toward the empty guardhouse while the ground rumbled behind them, dirt and debris heaving up
in
the backhoe’s wake.

Jared yanked her over a hill of cobblestones. “Almost there.”

“Almost
where
?” she panted.

“Here.” Metal groaned as Jared scrambled onto the ragged seat of a rusting forklift. He pulled her in front of him, wedged between his thighs and a row of gears.

Maggie bit back hysterical laughter. They were going into some crazy automotive duel,
mano a mano
? “Jared, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“You have something better in mind?”

“Well, no—”

“Then hold on, because we’re moving.” He shoved at the gears, and the huge forklift lumbered forward. The two machines circled clumsily. The backhoe turned sharply, its metal jaws snapping. There was no question that their unknown pursuer meant them serious harm.

Pebbles flew past Maggie’s head. They veered uphill toward a makeshift metal guardhouse.

“Hold on. We’re going to see if anyone’s in there.”

They lurched over the ground, and all Maggie could hear was the whine of the motor and the panicked race of her own pulse. She wasn’t ready to die. She had two emeralds she’d promised to Chessa for a pair of heart-stopping earrings. She had her rent to pay, her library books to return, her yearly dental checkup to complete.

But it looked as if someone was determined to see her grounded permanently, and Jared’s suspicions about her father were starting to seem less fantastic.

Something smashed against the vehicle’s metal arms, breaking her grim reverie. They slammed into the guardhouse, banging open the door. Maggie winced as a flashlight beam struck her face.

A burly figure in a khaki uniform stalked through the open door. “What in bloody hell’s going on here?”

Jared managed to turn the forklift and slam to a halt. “We need your help.”

“That’s quite enough nonsense from you lot. Burglary. Destruction of property.” The guard waved a heavy, military-issue flashlight “You’ll be held accountable for that.”

Jared swung to the ground. “You should be following the man in that backhoe.”

“Now is that a fact?”

“The Metropolitan Police will want a word with him.”

The guard shoved his hands on his hips. “And just
where
would that man be?”

“Behind us.”

“An inventive story, so it is, except there’s no one at all behind you two.”

Maggie turned. To her shock the pitted earth behind them was empty. The backhoe stood dark and silent beside the cement pipe.

“But he was
there
,” she rasped. “He tried to run us down.”

“A fine tale, Miss. You can tell the nice constables all about it.” As the watchman spoke, two police cars roared into the yard, sirens wailing.

~ ~ ~

“Just what I always wanted to do,” Maggie muttered. “Spend a night in a cold, crowded London jail cell. You really know how to show a girl a good time, MacNeill.”

Too bad he wasn’t anywhere close to hear her.

Maggie stared at a pair of constables doing what appeared to be exquisitely boring paperwork. Her shoulder ached, and her tongue felt like shoe leather. The cup of tea she’d just been given could have eaten through carbon steel.

But she was lucky to be unharmed. If Jared hadn’t been so sharp-witted, they might be decorating the pavement in that new housing tract. Meanwhile, their pursuer had slipped away without a trace. After their protests, the two officers had searched the field, coming up with nothing. Despite the fresh tracks and long furrows in the dirt, the constables had shown little interest in their story.

Maggie knew there was no possibility of coincidence now. Someone wanted her badly frightened—or worse. She sat back and tried to think, but every question only seemed to bring more questions.

She gave a prayer of thanks at the sight of Lord Draycott striding toward the constable in charge. Behind the viscount, a gaunt man with white hair and a military bearing moved quietly across to Jared. Despite her exhaustion, Maggie noticed Jared’s restless pacing and the tension in his shoulders.

Two hours of confinement had left him scowling with barely contained frustration. He was a man who liked control and order. He would hate being caught unprepared almost as much as he hated the knowledge that their pursuer had escaped without a trace. Maggie had a fairly good idea how he was berating himself right now.

But there was more than anger in his tense body. Something was wrong, Maggie realized.

Behind her the door creaked open.

“You’re free to go, miss.” A female officer in a starched uniform held out Maggie’s handbag. “And here’s someone who’s been missing you.” With the slightest curve of her lips, the officer slid the yipping puppy into Maggie’s arms.

“Poor Max.”

“Poor, nothing. The brute nearly took off my thumb. Still, a bit of milk and a bone should soon put him to rights. And a bath wouldn’t hurt.”

Maggie felt a rush of pleasure as the cold, wet nose pressed against her neck. She looked up as Nicholas Draycott walked toward her, worry in his eyes. “What a night. How are you holding up?”

“Other than the fact that my stockings are history and I probably look like a zombie, I’m fine. So is Max.” She gave a crooked smile. “Jared doesn’t look so good though. Thanks for coming down to bail us out.”

“Actually, Jared had that fairly well in hand. I’m merely here to lend moral support.”

“Fools,” Jared muttered as he crossed toward them. “They
still
don’t believe anyone else was there. Do we need pictures to convince them?” He lifted Max from Maggie’s arms and shook his head as the puppy nuzzled his neck. “Down, you filthy creature.” Stroking Max’s head, Jared strode off to confer once more with the man at the constable’s desk.

Maggie watched a white-haired man walk through the back of the station. He signed a paper and then crossed the hall toward the door. “He’s someone important, isn’t he?”

Nicholas said nothing.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“All I can say is that your father’s disappearance left unanswered questions. Your encounter tonight seems to have reopened many of them.”

“So this is about
me
?”

“You are part of it.”

“They still haven’t found the driver?”

“I’m afraid he made a clean escape during all the fuss. Very professional.”

“What about the tracks from the backhoe?”

Nicholas shrugged.

“Then what about the security guard? He saw no one?”

“Only you two.” Nicholas rubbed his neck, frowning. “Unfortunately, he’s a family man with eight years on the job. The police are inclined to believe him.”

Maggie fought a wave of anger. “
Someone
had to be driving that backhoe. When he lifted the pipe he could have killed us. How do they explain that?”

Nicholas watched Jared arguing with one of the constables. “The construction people say that they’ve been having trouble with that particular backhoe. Lights shorting out, motor stalling—that sort of thing.”

“The last I heard, motors didn’t start themselves.”

“You know that and I know that. Unfortunately, there is little more we can do without concrete evidence.”

“Would a videotape of Jared and me lying dead beneath a backhoe do well enough?”

Nicholas looked grim. “Jared and I will see that doesn’t happen.”

Maggie shoved her hands deep into her pockets, hating the fear that threatened to choke her. “How do you know this has anything to do with my father? Jared was there, too. Maybe this man had some old grudge and I just happened to get in the way. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jared MacNeill has a whole address book full of people who’d like to run him over with a backhoe.”

Nicholas didn’t move. “What makes you say that?”

“Something in his face. He’s always watching other people and scanning the street as if he’s waiting for something to happen. Something bad.”

“A good description.” Nicholas smiled grimly. “He’d be irritated as hell to be caught so accurately.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you both convinced that this has to do with my father?”

“Information to that effect has been received. A government investigation has been initiated.” The viscount looked down with distaste at the cup of cold tea in his hands.

“Initiated by whom?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Then tell me about Jared. Who is he?” Maggie felt an odd tightening in her throat. “
What
is he?”

The cup tipped. “He’s someone who wants to help. We both are.” Nicholas nodded his head slightly as the man with white hair strode past, his bearing erect and military.

“I’m starting to wonder if staying in London is a good idea. New York was noisy, but at least demented strangers weren’t trying to run me down.”

“Don’t you want to catch this man?”

Maggie gnawed at her lip. “I have no evidence to show that my father is not dead, Lord Draycott. For me that’s all that matters. I think it might be best for everyone if I leave.”