Alain gasped, appearing genuinely concerned.
“And untie him. Get Dez to keep an eye on him. He won’t run. Will you Tyler?”
Tyler sniffed. “No. I swear. My arms are killing me.”
Alain sighed.
Catriona nodded and returned her attention to the Frenchman. “Promise me, Alain.”
The little man flopped into the sofa like a petulant teenager.
“Fine.”
Chapter Ten
Sean waved to Fernando, Parasol Picture’s gatekeeper for the day, as he rolled off the lot in his beloved Jaguar. He’d bought it a few years after arriving in Los Angeles in 1995, via 1721 Scotland.
He knew all too well how confused Broch must have been when he appeared in Hollywood.
When Sean arrived, he’d been dazed both by the time-travel and the knowledge that his wife and infant boy had been killed by Thorn Campbell’s men. If he’d known then that baby Broch had somehow survived, well, who knew. It might have been worse for him knowing he’d abandoned his son, unwillingly or not.
After nearly thirty years of reflection, he suspected he’d allowed his own death to happen. There was no reason for him to lose his sword fight with Thorn Campbell. He’d been reckless and all but begged the man to run him through.
He hadn’t wanted to live without Isobel and his boy.
But then, there he was. Alive in Hollywood. His wife and son, dead or alive, hundreds of years in the past. It hadn’t felt as if they were very far away at the time. He’d worn his grief like a yoke for years, but somehow he’d found the strength to start a new life in a new time. And for whatever reason, the moment he’d seen that 1969 Jaguar Series II E-Type OTS convertible, he knew his new life included it. The car was one of the few pleasures he’d allowed himself in those early years.
Landing on the Parasol Pictures lot had been lucky. Even luckier, Luther found him. Luther was Parasol’s entire security force back then. He could have had Sean arrested. Instead, he’d helped him, whether or not he believed Sean’s lies and later his confessions of time travel.
Good old Luther. They’d been through a lot since then.
Sean eased the brakes of the Jag, stopping at the threshold between the outer lot and the street.
Something doesn’t feel right.
With a subtle movement of his head he peered into the side view mirror.
There it was. Movement. A man sat in a car behind him in the lot. A gray Lexus. His gloved fingers tapped on the wheel.
He couldn’t make out the man’s face, but he felt his eyes on him.
Rune. Catriona and Fiona’s father. It had to be.
Sean hit the gas and screeched into traffic. Keeping an eye in his rearview mirror, he spotted the Lexus as it pulled from the lot and turned in his direction.
Rune’s pursuit came as no surprise. Since Catriona told him about her father visiting Fiona’s hospital room, he knew their paths would cross. After all, he’d nearly cut the man in two trying to save little Catriona from his grasp. Chances weren’t good Rune was willing to let that go.
After their battle, the gaunt, specter of a man had disappeared, presumably time-jumping to heal. But to come back? Sean had never had any control over where he appeared. Could Rune’s reappearance be a coincidence?
Catriona and Broch were safe in Las Vegas. That was good.
I need to finish this before they get back.
Sean drove towards the desert until he could pull down a road where he knew traffic would be scarce. The Lexus made the same turn and followed, pacing a hundred yards behind him.
Sean pulled over, the Jag’s tires crunching on the soft dirt.
The Lexus arrived a few moments later. It slowed, and then drifted to the roadside, parking twenty feet behind him.
No more pretending.
They sat in their cars for five minutes. Sean counted the seconds. He couldn’t stop looking at his watch.
Patient bastard.
Tired of waiting, Sean opened his door and stepped out. He turned to face his pursuer.
The Lexus door opened and a lanky man stepped out. Wearing a plaid shirt buttoned high on his neck, and jeans that made his skinny limbs look like spider legs, he stood staring at Sean.
“You look like a cartoon cowboy,” said Sean to break the ice.
The man didn’t answer.
“I know you’re Fiona’s father. Rune. That’s your name?”
Rune nodded.
“What do you want?” Sean shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He didn’t like doing all the talking. Catriona would have laughed to see him as the chatty one.
Rune’s gloved hand lifted and slipped behind him. When it reappeared, it held a gun.
Shite.
Sean hadn’t considered gunplay an option. His own gun sat in his desk drawer back at the office.
Stupid.
Rune fired. Sean ducked and scrambled to hide below the front of his car.
Firing a second time, Rune paced forward.
Sean looked behind him. Nowhere to run except down the road. He’d be an easy target.
I can’t just sit here, waiting for him to show up.
Sean shifted to the side of the car and slipped into the passenger seat.
Rune continued to advance.
A bullet crashed through the back window of the Jaguar and whizzed inches from Sean’s head before embedding in the dash.
Not the Jag. Sonovabitch.
Sean threw his legs into the driver’s side and hit the gas as he slammed the car into gear. The driver’s side window shattered, the bullet grazing his arm. He heard the sand beneath the outer wheel grind until the driver side tire caught, shooting the car forward. Sean wrestled the vehicle to the road.
Something thudded against the side of the car. Sean glanced
