Chapter Thirty-Four

“Take him out,” Logan hissed, his chin arching away from the blade against his throat.

Roland tsked softly. “You think you can throw that dagger in your hand faster than I can draw this one across Mackenzie’s neck?”

“It doesnae matter,” Logan said. “Do it, MacLeod.”

Kirk stood frozen, the bloodied dagger at his side, his gaze fixed at the place where the blade puckered the skin on Logan’s neck. If Roland applied a little more pressure and jerked the blade sideways, Logan would be dead in less than a minute, even if Kirk managed to loose a well-aimed throw of his dagger at Roland.

Roland shifted slightly so that he was more fully behind Logan, using Logan’s body as a shield.

“Don’t be foolish now, MacLeod,” Roland said, his voice velvety soft. It was a strange contrast to Logan’s angry rasps.

“What happened?” Kirk spoke to Logan, but kept his gaze fixed on Roland. He could only see half of the man’s eye and the white streak in his midnight-black hair.

“I tried to make him talk,” Logan said through clenched teeth. “I tried to make him tell me where my sister is being held. He got the upper hand on me. I should have just killed the bastard. I should have—”

Logan’s words were cut off and he inhaled sharply as Roland pressed the blade even deeper into his neck. A little trickle of blood dripped down the dagger.

“You Highlanders,” Roland said, amusement edging his soft voice. “You are as thick-headed as they say, aren’t you?”

Kirk stiffened but kept his feet rooted and his arms at his sides.

“I thought I had made it abundantly clear what would happen if you failed me. I assumed Logan understood what harm could befall his dear, sweet sister if he attempted to leave the Order, but apparently I have been remiss in detailing the tortures that can be wrought upon that pretty little body of hers.”

Logan growled wordlessly, his gray eyes wild like a feral dog’s at the mention of his sister.

“And you, Kirk.” Roland made another little noise with his tongue. “I’m very disappointed in you. You showed so much promise, so early. I trusted you with a great responsibility, far earlier than most. I could not have been more clear with my little jar demonstration about what would happen if you failed me.”

“Quit hiding behind Logan and face me, Roland,” Kirk ground out.

Roland completely ignored his words. “Apparently you need to learn the lesson that Logan here could not seem to get through his thick Scottish skull.”

Kirk narrowed his eyes. If Roland insisted on toying with him, he might as well play along. It bought more time to figure out a way to get Logan out of this alive.

“And what lesson is that?”

“It is elegant in its simplicity. Plainly, it is this: that anyone or anything that a man cares about can be used against him. Affection, love, friendship—they are liabilities, weak points that, with the right amount of pressure applied, can make a man bend. Or break.”

Roland darted his head around Logan’s and jutted his chin off to Kirk’s right, indicating that he move. Roland began to shuffle slowly to his own right, skirting the perimeter of the small room.

Kirk moved carefully, keeping his gaze locked on the two men. He sidestepped around the large wooden desk Roland had occupied during their first meeting as Roland made his way toward the open door.

“Logan cares for his sister,” Roland said calmly as he stepped over one of the dead guards. “I could use her to keep him loyal and focused on his missions. You, Kirk, apparently care about Logan. Thus, your inability to strike me. And I gather you also care for that mason’s widow as well. What was her name? Lillian something?”

A flash of blinding anger washed over Kirk. He dragged in a breath, using every fiber of his will to keep from flinging his last dagger at Roland. In this enraged state, he was likely to miss all together or hit Logan, leaving him weaponless against Roland.

“I can easily contact the clients who purchased her,” Roland went on. “Once they are done with her, she can be made comfortable—or not, depending on your next moves.”

Kirk opened his mouth to snap that Lillian was safe and Roland would never touch a hair on her head, but then he paused. “Ye are saying that ye would use her to keep me in line? Then ye dinnae plan on killing me?”

Roland shrugged, the motion pressing the dagger into Logan’s throat even harder momentarily.

“One of you has to die, clearly. I cannot have you colluding in my ranks again. And I’ll be sure to find an appropriate pressure point—leverage, you might call it—to keep you in line. But I had hoped to keep one of you on. You’ve both shown so much potential.”

Kirk’s mind raced as a wild plan began to form. Roland would kill one of them. Yet he was counting on Kirk being unwilling to see Logan harmed. That meant Logan would likely be dead in a matter of moments—once Roland had secured Kirk’s obedience. And Roland had already surmised that Lillian was the tool to continue to force Kirk’s allegiance to the Order.

Kirk needed to act now, before Roland decided that Logan was no longer necessary to buy him time.

“An interesting proposition,” Kirk said carefully, his gaze flicking to Logan.

Logan’s chin still jutted up from the blade at his neck, but his flinty eyes locked with Kirk’s.

“I think there is a flaw in yer logic, though,” Kirk went on, finally coming to a halt in front of the hearth where Roland had stood a moment before.

Roland stopped too, his back to the open door. “Oh?”

“Aye. Ye say that caring is a weakness, that it can be used against men to bend them to yer will.”

As Kirk spoke, he eyed the hand that clutched the dagger to Logan’s throat.

He cursed silently. Too small a target. Roland was careful to keep little more than his fingertips exposed as he wedged the tip of the dagger under Logan’s jaw.

“Ye think that is power—wielding people’s affections against them. But ye are wrong.”

“Am I?” Roland asked, and Kirk could hear the smile in his voice.

“Ye are, and here is why. Ye think that caring for people is a liability, but the reality is, caring is the reason Logan and I hatched this plan to take ye down, and the Order with it. If Logan didnae love his sister so much, he never would have found the strength to stand against ye. And if I didnae want to make sure ye would never be able to hurt Lillian again, I wouldnae have found the courage to face ye.”

“A pretty speech,” Roland said, “but the fact remains that I have your friend under the knife, Kirk. Because you do not want to see him hurt, you’ll do as I command. ”

Every fiber in Kirk’s being rebelled against Roland’s words. He would never bend to such a man again. He would never be brought to his knees in fear and shame, trading his honor, his very soul, in the name of following orders. The fire in his veins burned away everything but the truth. And he knew what to do.

“I dinnae wish to see Mackenzie dead ,” Kirk corrected, his gaze flicking to Logan once more. Logan compressed his lips, lifting his chin ever so slightly in acknowledgement of what Kirk was about to do.

“And because I want him to live, I’d rather hurt him myself.”

In one fluid motion, Kirk lifted his last dagger and sent it sailing through the air. It lodged so deeply and with such force in Logan’s shoulder that Logan jerked back, colliding with Roland.

The two men stumbled backward for a moment. It was just enough time for Logan to crumple, using his limp weight to pull free of Roland’s grasp.

Logan dropped to the floor, exposing Roland fully. Kirk spun to the hearth, yanking down one of the blunted, decorative swords that hung there.

As Kirk turned back to the door, Roland lifted the dagger he’d held at Logan’s throat.

Time seemed to slow as Kirk lunged forward with the sword. Roland drew back the dagger, then his arm slowly uncoiled as he prepared to release it. Kirk surged closer, the sword driving in front of him.

The dagger spun from Roland’s fingertips and sliced through the air.

Kirk knew with a sudden clarity that it would hit him. Though his mind screamed at him to dive out of the way, it was as if his body were moving through molasses. And even if he’d somehow had time to move out of the dagger’s path, the sword seemed to have a mind of its own as it plunged toward Roland.

Still driving his feet forward, Kirk managed to twist his torso, tilting his head off to the right.

The blade sank into his flesh just above his left collarbone—right where his neck had been half a heartbeat before.

His body jerked with the impact, but somehow his momentum continued to carry him forward. He roared in outrage and fury, throwing all his weight behind the extended sword.

Roland’s eyes widened and he stumbled back, but Kirk was closing on him too quickly. Just as Roland lurched backward through the cottage’s open door, the tip of the sword met his middle and plowed into him.

Kirk toppled forward, driving so hard that he and Roland both fell through the doorway. The sword plunged to the hilt in Roland’s stomach just before both men landed in the mud in front of the cottage.

Roland exhaled in shock, his wide, black eyes lowering to the dulled blade piercing him. He raised his gaze to Kirk, who stared at him in silence, his hand like a vise around the hilt.

Roland coughed, his lips tinging blood red. He jerked a few times, his head sinking toward the ground. Eyes still wide, the last of his breath slipped between his lips in a hiss, and then he went still.

Kirk wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a groan sounded from within the cottage. Prying his hand free of the sword hilt, he rolled over, a grunt of his own slipping past his lips at the dagger buried just above his collarbone.

“Logan?” he called, dragging himself up.

“Aye.” Logan ground out.

As Kirk staggered into the cottage, his gaze landed on Logan, who was struggling to pull Kirk’s dagger free from his shoulder.

Kirk wrapped his right hand around the hilt and with a swift jerk, yanked the dagger out.

Logan’s sharp groan turned into a curse. “Ye bastard.”

“It worked, didnae it?”

“Aye.” Logan’s gaze trailed out the door to where Roland’s lifeless body lay. “It worked.”

As Logan rose slowly to his feet, Kirk gripped the dagger protruding from his collarbone and pulled it free with a curse of his own.

In silence, the two of them moved slowly around Roland’s cottage, taking in the carnage. When Kirk reached Roland’s desk, he opened it. Ignoring the various clay jars inside, he found several stacks of parchment. At a glance, some appeared to be contracts with clients, others notes of payment, and still others were requests for Roland’s services.

Kirk strode to the fire and tossed the papers into the flames. How many lives had been destroyed by Roland and the Order of the Shadow? And how many more would be saved now that Roland was dead?

A surge of pride hit Kirk like a breaking wave. Just as when he’d killed Lillian’s would-be torturers and put her safety above his, he knew with a brilliant clarity that he had found his honor again.

This time, though, his actions were far more important than saving himself or protecting the woman he loved. In taking down the Order, he was part of something larger. He was part of the Bruce’s cause, aye, but also the fight to protect all innocents. That knowledge was like a healing salve to his scarred heart.

Exhausted but held up by the current of pride in his veins, he turned to Logan. “I ken ye dinnae wish to be yoked to Robert the Bruce’s cause, but ye have done a great thing for him—for all Scots, and all innocents.”

Logan lifted a copper brow. “Is that so?”

“Aye. Ye’ve served a just and honorable cause.” Kirk stilled. He surprised himself by meaning those words, believing them in his bones. “Ye ken about the Bodyguard Corps now. They need good men like ye. I’m sure that after all ye’ve done for the Bruce today, they would accept ye into their fold.”

Logan snorted softly. “They would accept a mercenary who actively worked against them as part of the Order of the Shadow? ”

Kirk couldn’t help the weary curl of his lips. “Well…it might take some convincing on my part…”

Logan grinned wryly, but then he sobered. “Thank ye, but nay—no’ just yet, anyway. I’ll no’ be another soldier, a hired weapon, in some other man’s war. Besides,” he said, his brows dropping, “I need to find my sister.”

“Where will ye go?” Kirk asked quietly.

Logan’s steel-gray gaze once again landed on Roland’s body. He shook his head slowly. “I dinnae ken. I have long believed that they kept her somewhere close so that Roland could get word to her captors quickly should I step out of line.”

Kirk’s mind pulled toward Lillian, toward the need to have her in his arms once more, but he could not send Logan off by himself.

“I’ll ride with ye if ye wish.”

Kirk’s thoughts must have been written on his face, for Logan chuckled softly. “And leave yer woman at the Bruce’s camp? I couldnae be the reason to make both of ye miserable. Nay, I’ll ride alone. Dinnae fash over me, though. Without Roland to take in new paying assignments and distribute coin to the men in the Order, they’ll scatter like leaves in the wind—including the men Roland was paying to hold my sister.”

“Ye truly believe that?” Kirk murmured. “Ye truly believe the Order is so completely destroyed?”

“Those men in the Compound have no loyalty to Roland or the Order. When the coin stops flowing, they’ll move on,” Logan replied. “Roland truly was the head of this monstrous organization. Without him, the rest will fall away.”

“There will still be bounty hunters—men who will take any mission for the right amount of coin—looking for their next assignment all over England,” Kirk muttered.

“Aye,” Logan said, “as there have always been.”

It made Kirk’s blood stir with renewed anger at the injustice of such a reality, but fatigue at last won out. They’d done right in taking out the Order—though the world was still full of violence and strife, they’d made it just a wee bit safer in killing Roland.

Kirk and Logan left Roland’s cottage behind, walking slowly back to their waiting horses. Once they’d mounted, Kirk extended his forearm to Logan over his horse’s neck.

“If ye ever find yerself in the Highlands again, ye should make yer way to Roslin Castle on Sinclair land. I hear that is where the Bodyguard Corps trains,” Kirk said as he clasped arms with Logan.

Logan smiled sadly. “Ye are a good man to think someone like me deserves a second chance.”

Again, Kirk was struck by the realization that he and Logan were not so different. Both had lost their path, falling into the darkness. And both had found their way back to the light.

Kirk watched as Logan spurred his horse westward to begin his quest for his sister. When the forest swallowed the last sight of his friend, Kirk pointed his roan to the north. Toward Lillian.