Cursed (24 page)

     Tess curled on her
side. She rested her head on his shoulder, her legs tangling with his. Like the
princess with the pea under her mattress, she felt the pendant nudge her hip as
she cuddled next to him. However, the pendant was no harmless pea despite its
smooth, white beauty. The stone had led to a violent death for countless people
including Quinn.

     She shuddered and
shifted away from it. What would happen next, she wondered. All she wanted to
do was help Cullinan return it safely to the church before any more lives were
lost. Would they complete their journey or would something unexpected stand in
their way? With the sleet tapping softly on the window, Cullinan turned off the
light.

* * *

Scrape.

Click.

     The faint noises
permeated a corner of Cullinan’s sleep-fogged brain, but he didn’t move from
his warm, cozy position on the bed. Tess snuggled beside him, her breathing
slow and even, her arm slung loosely over his waist. The scent of her filled
his senses. He dismissed the sounds as probably coming from the adjacent
compartment and gently laid his hand over hers. Her warm body suddenly jerked
away.

     Cullinan heard a
muffled cry. His eyes flew open. Adrenaline pumped through him, tensing his
muscles. He switched on the bedside light then started to leap from the bed.
The cold, smooth edge of a gun pressed against the jugular vein in his neck.
Cullinan’s eyes shifted and he stared wide eyed at a silencer screwed into the
barrel of the gun. What the hell?

     “Don’t move.” A
calm, male voice echoed out of the dark. A forbidding figure loomed like a ghostly
specter beside the bed. Cullinan’s breath seized in his lungs.

     Tess whimpered.

     Cullinan flicked his
gaze toward the sound. The storm had passed and now bright light from a full
moon streamed in through their compartment’s window. He stared in horror at a
large man partly concealed in shadow near the door, holding Tess roughly
against his chest, the silvery beams of moonlight shining on her nude body. A
surge of fear twisted around his heart. One meaty hand clamped over her mouth
and the other held a knife to her throat. Her wide, terror- filled eyes pierced
him across the distance.

     Panic welled in
Cullinan’s throat as a shudder of black dread swept through him. Oh, God, what
the hell was he going to do naked and vulnerable with no weapon? Were these men
here to rob them or to rape and murder instead? Fear like he’d never known
flowed through his veins in a gushing torrent. He would do anything to keep
Tess alive. No matter what happened, he would fight to the death before he let
them harm the woman he loved. An eerie resolve settled over him and tempered
his trepidation. He darted his gaze back to the gunman standing beside the bed.
“I have cash in my wallet.” Cullinan fought to keep his voice steady and even.

     “I don’t want your
money. I want the pendant. Where is it?” The man’s voice was deep and even with
no discernible accent. The pendant. Would he let them go if he gave it to him?
Doubtful. He would probably kill them both.
God, if you have to
,
Cullinan prayed silently,
take me instead of Tess
.

     Tess emitted a
strangled sob. Cullinan’s gaze flew to her face. Blood trickled down the white
column of her throat. A frisson of terror tore at his insides. “I’ll get you
the pendant, just please don’t hurt her.” He saw his pants lying in a heap on
the floor next to the feet of the thug holding Tess. When he knelt for them, he
could throw his body against the man and throw him off balance. “I need to get
some pants on first.” He started to rise from the bed.

     The gunman standing
beside the bed cuffed him in the jaw with the barrel of the gun. “No, just get
the pendant.”

     Pain spread through
Cullinan’s jaw and stars danced in front of his eyes. He inhaled against the
ache and blinked to clear his vision.

     Tess moaned in a
series of incomprehensible words. Cullinan looked in her direction. Worry
glazed her eyes as she stared at him. The thug’s hand still covered her mouth.

     The assailant beside
the bed shifted the gun’s barrel and pointed it at Tess. “Be quiet or I’ll
scatter your brains all over this room.”

     Her moans ceased
immediately.

     Cullinan fixed his
gaze on Tess.
Hear me, sweetheart. I won’t let them hurt you. I promise
.
“Everything is going to be okay.” He hoped.

     “How touching.” The
gunman swung the gun back toward Cullinan. The gunman lifted his free hand to
his temple and rubbed. The moon’s gossamer rays illuminated the gunman’s
sweaty, trembling fingers that held the gun. “Now get the pendant. And no
sudden moves or she’s dead.”

     Was the man sick? Is
that why he wanted the pendant? Or did he plan to sell it to the highest
bidder? Slowly, Cullinan lowered his legs over the side of the bed. He turned
and lifted the edge of the mattress. He grasped the pendant firmly in his hand,
pulled it from the mattress and looked at the sacred object lying in his palm.
The stone glowed softly as if covered by a thin, white mist. His heart thudded
hard in his chest as regret swamped him. He was so close to returning the
pendant to the church and laying it on Saint Columba’s stone pillow, finally
putting an end to the curse. If alone, he would risk his life to complete the
mission but no way would he gamble with Tess’s. He turned and held the pendant
out toward the gunman. “Take it.”

     Time seemed to stop
as the gunman’s fingers reached for the pendant. The sounds of the train
speeding through the night faded to the back of Cullinan’s brain and his breath
clogged in his throat as everyone stared in rapt attention. The closer the
gunman’s hand moved toward the pendant, the stone’s misty, white glow was
gradually consumed with red, the color of blood. This was the same color change
Cullinan had seen in the park that day when Patrick held the pendant.

     Just as the gunman’s
fingers began to close around the pendant, Cullinan caught a movement out of
the corner of his eye. With the knife still at her throat, Cullinan watched
helplessly as Tess bit into the flesh of the thug’s hand.

Like a movie projector’s speed turned up to
normal, sound and movement came flooding back.

     “Ugh! You bit me!”
In obvious pain, the thug shook his left hand a couple of times, dropped the
knife and reached for Tess with his bare hands, his fingers curling like claws.
“You’ll pay for that, you lousy bitch.”

     Tess rammed her fist
into the thug’s gut then kneed him in the groin. The thug doubled over in pain,
grabbing his crotch with both hands.

     Simultaneously,
Cullinan gripped the pendant in his fingers and with a snap of his wrist and he
threw it toward the gunman’s face. The edge of the pendant clipped the gunman
beneath the tip of his nose.

     “Damn it!” The
gunman cried out and held his other hand over his nose. With blood dripping
down his face, the gunman pointed the barrel at Cullinan. Cullinan hit the
gunman’s arm with his hand.   

     The gun’s barrel
jerked upward and briefly pointed in Tess’s direction. A muffled shot rang out.

     In horror,
Cullinan’s blood ran cold.

     He snapped his head
toward Tess. “No!” His startled cry filled the small compartment and buzzed
through his brain.

     The thug staggered
back against the compartment wall with his right hand clutching his left
shoulder as blood seeped through his fingers. With a mixture of relief and
anger churning through his gut, Cullinan leaped toward the gunman. They tumbled
to the floor with a series of grunts, their breathing labored. Gripping the
gunman’s wrist, Cullinan struck the gunman’s hand several times against the
floor until the gun sailed from his hand.

     The gunman punched
Cullinan hard in the side of his neck. Agonizing darts of pain vibrated through
the muscles in Cullinan’s neck. He sucked in a much needed breath through his
aching throat, drew back his fist and returned the hook with a blow to the
gunman’s temple.

     His attacker grunted
in distress and tried to knee Cullinan in the groin. He deflected the attempt,
clamped his hand down on the gunman’s crotch and squeezed hard.

     The gunman screamed
in pain and struck Cullinan square in the mouth. The coppery taste of blood coated
Cullinan’s tongue. Clashing in a flurry of arms and legs, they rolled into a
puddle of moonlight. Cullinan got a closer look at the man’s face. Pain filled
his hazel eyes, his thin lips twisted in a grimace of anguish and blood still
oozed from his nose.  Cullinan spotted the gun out of the corner of his
eye and strained toward it. The tips of his fingers lightly grazed the end of
the gun’s handle, but he couldn’t close his fingers around it.

     The man shoved
Cullinan away and grabbed the gun. Cullinan leaped on his back and grappled
with his assailant, desperately trying to pry the man’s fingers from the gun.
Suddenly, Cullinan saw Tess’s bare foot connect with the man’s wrist. His
fingers loosened from the blow long enough for Cullinan to grasp the gun.
Rolling to his feet, Cullinan pointed the barrel at his attacker. Before he
could squeeze off a shot, the compartment door slammed back on its hinges. The
thug fled into the hallway clutching his wounded shoulder followed by the
gunman. The door swung shut behind them.

Chapter
Thirteen

     “You damn well
should have reported those goons to the authorities, Benedict!”

     Hope glanced at Nick
sitting beside her in the back seat of the rental car and laid a hand on his
thigh to calm him. The muscles in his leg relaxed under her touch and the
warmth of his body seared her palm. He glanced at her, his gaze momentarily
softening before he stared once again at the back of her brother’s head.

     Cullinan huffed out
a breath but said nothing at first as he guided the car over the fog shrouded
road that snaked through the heart of Inverness. Sitting on the passenger side,
Tess rested her hand on Cullinan’s shoulder. He reached up and briefly grasped
her fingers.

     The sun peaked over
the horizon sending pale streaks of pink and lavender through the distant
clouds. Any other time Hope would have enjoyed the early morning display but
tension lay like a pall in the car’s atmosphere.

     “I told you before,
Morelli,” Cullinan said in a terse, clipped voice, “I couldn’t notify the train
officials about the men breaking into our compartment because I didn’t want to
draw any more attention to the pendant.” He shrugged and followed the curve of
the road. “In a few minutes, the pendant will be returned and it won’t matter
anymore.” He headed toward the west side of town and the rolling hills that
safely nestled the church of Saint Columba.

     Nick leaned forward
slightly in the seat.

     Hope rolled her eyes
toward the roof of the car and shook her head.
Here it comes
.

     “It doesn’t matter
to you that Tess might have been killed?” Nick’s sharp, accusing tone filled
the small space.

     Tess turned in her
seat and looked at Nick with a frown creasing her forehead. “Of course it
matters. How could you say such a thing?”

     “And what about your
own lousy skin?” Nick asked, ignoring Tess’s question. “Not that I care, but
your sister here—” He jerked his head in Hope’s direction. “—would care and her
feelings matter a whole hell of a lot. What if they’ve followed us? It would
pain me greatly to see her unhappy if you ended up dead.”

     Suddenly, Cullinan
jerked the car to the side of the road, stomped on the brake and shifted the
gear into park.

     Tess turned her head
toward Cullinan. “Nick obviously won’t listen to reason, so please don’t argue
when we’re so close to returning the pendant.”

     He ignored her
gentle reproof, shifted in his seat and glared at Morelli. His expression was hard
and resentful, his amber eyes glittering with anger. “Don’t think for a minute
that I enjoyed watching the woman I love being manhandled and scared out of her
wits because I didn’t.” He spat the words out like little bullets. “As for me,
I did what I had to do so get the hell off my back. Are we clear?”

     Hope watched a
muscle work furiously in Nick’s jaw before the corner of his mouth lifted in a
sneer. “You think you’re such a cowboy, but one day your luck is going to run
out and I hope I’m there to see it.”

     Irritation burned
through Hope. She clenched her hands into fists and exhaled a harsh breath.
“Enough. Are you two done flexing your egos?”

     Cullinan turned
toward the front of the car and shifted the gear into drive. “Yeah, we’re done,”
he said in a grudging tone. “For now.”

     Hope supposed that
what Nick and her brother really needed was a good, old-fashioned brawl to
clear the air but that would have to wait.

     Fifteen minutes
later, Cullinan swung the car onto a long, narrow road that led up into the
hills west of Inverness. Hope saw a sign indicating the turn for the Craig
Phadrig, a former Pictish stronghold. Anticipation bubbled inside her. They
were getting close. Their mission was nearly complete. She watched for the natural
markers their father had told them about, the boulder shaped like a dog’s head
and the trunk of an old tree sprouting from a seasonal creek bed and pointed
them out for Cullinan.