But his fighting inexperience had lulled me into a false sense of security. I’d expected him to crumble under the pain of his wound.
Instead, he shocked me by slamming his fist into my face.
Throbbing pain exploded across my cheekbone, blinding me, and I stumbled back.
It was only seconds of distraction, but it was enough for him to lope over the suitcase and shove open the door. I roared in fury and dove for him, my fingers grasping the hood of his sweater. He grunted as I tried to haul him back, but I tripped over the suitcase, the trailer door slammed back toward my face, and I lost my grip on him as he took off.
Kicking the suitcase out of my way, ignoring the pain of my pinkie toe catching a metal buckle on the damn thing, I pushed open the trailer door, letting it slam against the side of the caravan.
Swiping up the kitchen knife, I checked left and right outside my temporary home and saw nothing.
No moving shadow in the distance.
No sound of gravel underfoot.
“Coward!” I shrieked my rage into the night.
Aware now of the adrenaline shooting through my body, I tried to control it as I hurried back into the trailer and grabbed my cell. Minutes later, the emergency services operator told me the police were on their way.
Hands shaking, I called Mac next.
He answered after four rings.
“Robbie?” he asked, sounding groggy with sleep.
The fear I’d felt when I’d heard the man breaking in came back, and I stared anxiously at the open door of the trailer. “Dad …” I rarely called him that. Then I told him what happened.
His worry was palpable as he ordered me to find a neighboring trailer. But I didn’t want to endanger anyone. “Stop arguing with me!” He sounded panicked.
“I’ll lock myself in my car,” I compromised.
“Fuck!” he bit out. “I’m on my way. I will be there in minutes.”
“Don’t kill yourself trying to get here.”
I did as I promised. I yanked on some socks and hiking boots, shoved my phone inside my left boot, armed myself with the dagger and a kitchen knife, and wrapped ice in a tea towel. I then hurried out of the trailer and into my rental car.
The bleep of the locks didn’t make me feel all that safe, but it was better than being a sitting duck in a tiny, static trailer.
I was wearing only a camisole and shorts, and the adrenaline was wearing off. Between that and the ice pressed to my cheek, I chittered in my car.
Until a black Range Rover pulled in behind my SUV a mere seven minutes later. The castle was fifteen minutes from the caravan site.
Staring into my wing mirror, I waited until the driver’s door opened.
Lachlan got out.
Great.
Mac rounded the hood to join him as they stalked toward my car; I finally opened my door.
I’d barely cleared my left foot from the vehicle when Mac hauled me into his arms.
“I’m okay,” I reassured him, holding on tight as I felt the tremble in his arms. Lachlan stood behind Mac, countenance fierce, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I’m okay.”
Moonlight lit his blue eyes, illuminating his disquiet. “What happened?”
Mac released me, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “He hit you.”
“Lucky punch,” I promised. “Hit my cheekbone, missed my nose, that’s all I care about.”
“Tell us everything.”
I opened my mouth to do so when Lachlan unexpectedly embraced me. My lips parted on a sharp exhalation, but I returned his hug, caressing his strong back. That’s when I realized we weren’t alone.
Over his shoulder, I spotted Jock and three security guards.
“Really?” I eased out of Lachlan’s arms. “You didn’t need to bring your men. The police are on their—”
I was interrupted by the kick of gravel and blue-and-red flashing lights dancing across the dark end of the trailer park. They parked up behind the Range Rover and we waited as the officers approached.
After introductions, I stood inside the trailer with the two police officers, Mac, and Lachlan. A fresh tea towel filled with ice pressed to my cheek, I told them what happened, hearing my father’s and Lachlan’s indrawn breath as I described the fight.
The police took my statement and promised the detective inspectors working on Mac’s case would be in touch to interview me. The officers asked me if I required an ambulance, as had the phone operator, but I shook my head. My face had gotten the worst of it, and I’d have a nasty shiner for a few days, but it would heal. Physically I was fine.
My attacker wasn’t, so there was hope he would go to the hospital. The officers promised to put out an alert to the local hospitals for a man seeking medical attention for an injury matching the one I’d given him. They bagged up the bloody push dagger and kitchen knife and took those with them, much to my annoyance. My attacker wore leather gloves, but there was always a chance there could be prints on the dagger, and I’d wanted Mac’s forensic lady to run prints first. Moreover, this was the first time we had DNA. I hadn’t considered that when I’d called the cops.
When the police left, silence reigned in the trailer.
Lachlan opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.
“This isn’t the first time,” I confessed.
“What isn’t?” Mac asked.
I knew they would be mad at me for withholding information, but it was better they had the whole truth now. After all, I would have to tell the detective inspectors when they came around to interview me. “Lachlan and I were caught … kissing outside his office by Sarah McCulloch and Agnes. That night I came home and found the trailer trashed and all my evidence for the case ripped to shreds. They left a threatening note.”
The men lambasted me before I even finished saying the word note, their questions and lectures rightfully incensed. But I’d already had a shitty night, my head was pounding, and I needed quiet. I raised my hands and yelled at them to shut up.
To my gratification, they both closed their mouths.
“The message said, ‘Kiss what’s mine and I’ll kill what’s yours.’”
“Fuck,” Lachlan bit out.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mac was not only furious but I could tell he was disappointed, and his injured expression informed me he was also hurt.
Guilt churned in my gut. “I assumed the message was a threat against you. No one could get to you at the castle, so you were safe, but I knew you would both tell me to back off the case. Maybe even ask me to leave. And before you suggest I do either of those things, I think I know who’s doing all this.”
They leaned subconsciously toward me.
“This morning I went to talk to McCulloch. The fact that Sarah saw us”—I gestured vaguely to Lachlan, not wanting to keep bringing up the physical aspects of our affair in front of Mac—“you know … it got me suspicious about them again. It niggled at me. She’s always hovering in the background. And McCulloch’s history with Lachlan’s father is clear motive. So I went out to the farm today.”
I winced as they threw another round of agitated questions and curses at me.
This time I waited for them to calm themselves before I continued.
“Did you know McCulloch’s grandson Jared is working the farm?”