11. Chapter 11

11

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Dammit.

Ilaria cursed herself for her moment of weakness, caving in and calling Soren, of all people, for help.

She should have been able to get out of that situation herself. She just hadn't been thinking clearly at the time, almost being run off a cliff and all. But having calmed down, she was convinced she could have handled it.

Now, not only was she indebted to him, she helped to prove his point that she needed protection, and she was stuck with him the entire time she was in Scotland.

Or so he said, anyway. But not if she could help it. She was a grown woman, and no one was going to prevent her from doing what she wanted, when she wanted.

Elowine drove the SUV down the other side of the hill, smoothly navigating the turns. By the time they arrived at the mansion, it would be dawn.

Ilaria angled her body toward her door, away from Soren. Why did he insist on sitting in the backseat with her instead of the front? Did he think she was stupid enough to jump out of the car?

She scowled and crossed her arms as she stared out the window, thinking of all the ways she could escape his watchful eye. She could come downstairs at odd hours in order to avoid him. She could go for a jog very early in the morning. If he was in one room, she'd go in another. The house was large; it should be easy to avoid him, she thought with satisfaction.

"What's so funny?" Soren drawled, his deep, smooth voice vibrating through her.

Don't look at him.

Ilaria turned to look at him, unable to help herself, and was immediately struck by his blue-gray eyes that stood out against his tanned skin, stubble beard covering an aristocratic jaw, and thick, black hair. Hair that was tousled in a windswept sort of way.

An amused expression passed over his face and she realized she was staring. She glowered at him. "It's none of your business." She stuck out her chin and turned back to the window.

She expected a retort, but he said nothing. Yet she was aware of his physical presence, even more so than before; a still presence concealing the danger and violence underneath, like a coiled snake about to strike.

She had an urge to bounce her leg but doing so would have given away that she was nervous. And she desperately wanted to hide that he made her nervous; that his tall, powerful frame, hard eyes that noticed everything, and the heat and intensity emanating from him caused her heart to jump and her gut to clench.

So she fought to look cool and aloof.

Soren casually slung his arm across the top of the seat, his hand almost reaching her hair. "Where'd you learn to drive like that?"

Was he giving her a compliment? She considered ignoring him but, again, couldn't help herself. "I took defensive driving classes."

"You should get your money back," he said.

Her eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

"If you were taught better, you would have been able to make those turns smoother and faster," he added.

She had just barely escaped with her life and he was criticizing her driving?

"I'll keep that in mind the next time someone tries to run me off the road," she bit out.

"Which isn't going to happen as long as you're with me." His tone was matter-of-fact.

Her eyes narrowed. The conceit of this man.

Ilaria despised his lazy sprawl in the seat next to her as if he had not a care in the world. She eyed his outfit—an impeccable dress shirt and suit pants—up and down, aiming for what she hoped was disdain on her face. "Do you wake up every morning trying to look like that?"

He held her gaze. "Looking like what?"

"Like you want everyone to know that you have a big stick up your ass."

Elowine let out a soft snort from the front.

Soren shrugged. "It often comes in handy."

"The stick or being an uptight ass?"

"Both." His eyes gleamed.

It was her turn to shrug. "Whatever floats your boat."

Ilaria turned to look out the window again. She felt his eyes scan over her.

"Jesus, did you walk through the airport in those shoes?"

"Yes." Her voice was clipped.

"They're ridiculous," he observed.

She slowly turned to look at him. "Why, because they're red?"

"Because they're completely impractical." Soren motioned in the direction of her boots. "They're on stilts. They have laces that probably take you twenty minutes to tie. And, yes, because they're red. Not to mention that glitter thing going on."

She cocked her head. "Why do you care so much about my shoes?"

He gave a small smile. "I don't. I just think they're ridiculous."

"For someone who doesn't care, you sure are noticing a lot of the details."

He lifted the hand that was still slung over the top of the seat. "What can I say? I'm observant. And besides, their ridiculousness is too obvious not to notice."

Ilaria rolled her eyes. "Add conceited to that big stick of yours."

He actually had the audacity to grin, showing off even, white teeth that infuriated her.

A thought popped into her head. "What were you doing out at this time of night anyway? Gallivanting around town, looking for trouble?"

A smirk spread across Soren's face. "What do people typically do late at night when they're not sleeping? When there's music, booze, and not a lot of clothes?" His voice was loaded with implications.

A twinge flashed in her lower regions which she ignored. "Only desperate women and prostitutes are up at this time of night." She met his eyes. "But who am I to question your life choices?"

Elowine huffed a laugh before she pinched her lips together.

His eyes narrowed. "Well… you're up at this time of night. So which one are you: a prostitute or just desperate?"

"Huh," Ilaria responded. "That's a great question. Guess I'm desperate. Looks like while I'm in town I'll have to look for someone to take care of my…desperation." She gave him a wide smile.

He stared at her, dark heat flashing through his eyes.

"Thanks for pointing out what I wasn't aware of," she added. "You're such a good friend."

He continued to gaze at her, annoyance flickering along with the heat.

She crossed her arms and looked away, satisfied at having shut him up.

After being blessed with silence for several minutes, Ilaria sensed he was going to say something. Before he could open his mouth, she blurted out, "Elowine, how's your family?"

She could see Elowine‘s eyes in the rearview mirror glance between her and Soren.

"They're all doing great. Stewart and Dougie are working at a local car shop." The pride was evident in her voice. "Nothing fancy, but it's an honest living, and they love cars." She made another turn on the wheel. "Iona and Maisie are still at home, getting straight As."

Ilaria grinned. "Maisie was the one I met, right? She's a hoot." Ilaria met Maisie several years ago as a precocious, sarcastic teen who talked circles around everyone.

Elowine laughed. "She'll give me and Ma the most trouble. She has huge dreams, wants to go to college." Her eyes moved to Soren in the mirror. "And thanks to this job, I'll be able to save enough when it's time for her to go."

Ilaria glanced at Soren, whose face was impassive. "That's wonderful, Elowine. And how's your Ma doing?"

Elowine shook her buzzed head. "Still working too hard. I send money home so she doesn't have to work anymore, but she says it gives her something to do. I gotta help her find a hobby or something."

"Maybe she could have a second career as an antique dealer," Ilaria suggested. They both laughed. Elowine's mother, Lorna, had a passion for garage sales and always managed to spy valuable antiques hidden in other people's junk.

"I'll suggest that to her," Elowine said.

Ilaria felt Soren's eyes on her but she refused to look.

She leaned forward toward Elowine. "So are you seeing anyone?" she asked in a conspiratorial tone.

Elowine grinned. "I am. Her name's Rhona. We've been together for six months."

"Oooh," Ilaria gave her a sly look. "Sounds serious."

Elowine huffed a laugh. "It's getting there." She cleared her throat. "And you?"

Ilaria paused. Time to have a little fun. "I am. It's still new, only about three months." She gave a little chuckle. "But it's been a fun three months."

She could feel Soren's eyes burning on her face.

Elowine's brows raised. "Good for you. Where'd you meet him?"

"At the coffee shop," Ilaria said airily. "Derek was ahead of me in line and paid for my coffee. Luckily he was really cute, so I didn't mind chatting with him." She was really getting into the story now. "Then he asked me out to dinner, and one thing led to another. I wish he was here to help take care of my… desperation because he's amazing in—"

Soren cleared his throat loudly. "We don't need to hear his whole life story."

Ilaria turned to him, frowning. "I was talking to Elowine, anyway. Cover your ears if you don't want to listen."

"I'm not going to cover my ears in my own car," he growled.

She clucked her tongue and crossed her arms. "Well, you don't have to be so surly about it." She caught the twinkle in Elowine's eyes.

A long beat, then she gave him a sidelong glance. "What about you? Are you in a relationship?"

He sighed as if impatient with her trivial questions. "I don't have time for relationships."

"Right," she replied with a magnanimous nod of her head. "You have much more important things to do. Relationships require too much time and effort. And a pleasant personality." She grimaced. "Women tend to prefer pleasant personalities. Which is clearly a challenge for you." She motioned her hand to him. "So I can see why you don't do relationships." She shrugged. "But, hey, there's always your own hand."

Soren gave her a dour look but stayed silent. Elowine's shoulders shook with laughter.

The car fell quiet until a loud grumble originating from Ilaria's stomach echoed through the cabin.

"When was the last time you ate?" Soren asked gruffly.

She didn't bother to answer. She opened her handbag and dug around, hoping for a bag of airplane peanuts or crackers. Instead, all she found was gummy bears. She split open the bag and popped one in her mouth.

He chuckled. "Gummy bears. Classic."

Ilaria glared at him. "Now what's your problem?"

"Why do you have gummy bears in your bag?"

"Why do you care? They were from the plane."

"You're like a child."

"They're fun," she replied tersely. "And sweet. Not that you would ever know what fun and sweet are, those concepts being completely foreign to you."

"You're right," he responded, "because I'm not a child. I'm an adult. A responsible one."

"Oho, now we're getting to the heart of the issue," she mocked. "Enlighten me. Tell me how I'm such a child."

"If I must point out the obvious to you." Soren's voice took on a hard edge. "Despite the fact that I asked you not to come to Scotland, because of the danger, you still came. Then you decided not to let me know in advance so that I could pick you up. Instead, you drove yourself, nearly getting yourself killed."

He leaned toward her, anger radiating from him. "Responsible adults don't act rashly. They don't take unnecessary risks. They don't dive recklessly into a situation without knowing what they're getting into and taking precautions."

Ilaria gave him an icy stare. The fury that had been pushed, shoved, and buried deep within her roared, and she could no longer keep it leashed.

"So if I had listened to you, I wouldn't have been almost killed," she said in a dangerously calm voice.

"That's right," he declared, eyes a stormy gray.

"And you trust yourself to be able to protect me."

"Yes." His jaw was set.

"And you're asking me to trust you as well." She pinned him with her eyes.

"Yes." He looked wary now.

"Why should I trust you?" She turned in her seat to face him, her voice still deceptively calm. "When have you ever shown me I could trust you?" Her voice became louder. "You have, in fact, done and said things that have indicated the opposite, that I cannot and should not trust you." She launched the full force of her fury at him. "So go ahead, get on your high horse and lecture me about unnecessary risks. But as far as I'm concerned, trusting you in any capacity is the biggest risk of all."

With that, Ilaria turned away and slammed her sunglasses over her eyes, but not before she caught an expression on Soren's face she couldn't interpret.

She was done; done with him and done with holding onto any feelings for him whatsoever. She said her piece and didn't need him to understand nor wanted to hear an explanation from him.

She would talk to Galen, come up with a plan to find her parents' killer, arrange for their bodies to be sent back to Chicago, and then go home as soon as possible.

The edge of the town of Inverwick came into view. The sun appeared over the tops of the buildings, and the town was waking up. If Ilaria hadn't been so mad she would have enjoyed being back in this little town she loved.

Tears of frustration stung her eyes, and she willed them not to fall. She refused to cry in front of Soren.

"Are you planning to see your parents' bodies?" Soren asked in a quiet voice, no trace left of the former arrogance.

She was quiet for several moments. "Yes, if it's possible," she replied, hoping her voice didn't sound shaky.

"I can make arrangements," he said. "Let me know when you want to go."

She nodded, her throat constricted. The fight left her. She was so damn tired. After everything that has happened the past several days, coming here to fight with Soren left her overwhelmed and vulnerable.

"Where were they killed?" Ilaria had to know, even if left her wide open for Soren to tear apart.

He paused. "Are you sure you want to talk about this right now?"

She frowned behind her sunglasses. "Don't treat me like I'm fragile."

"I would never consider you to be fragile," he muttered. "Fine. It was within the city limits of Edinburgh. They were in a marked SUV with one of our drivers." He watched her. "The car was rammed on the side and flipped over. Then the gunman shot our driver and your parents."

Ilaria froze, imagining it all in her mind. Imagining her parents' shock, fear, and dread. She must have looked stricken because Soren reached for her hand, which brought her back to the present. She pulled her hand back, not in the frame of mind to accept comfort. Especially from him.

"Did they know what was happening?" Her voice was hoarse.

Soren paused again, then reached up to remove her sunglasses. She didn't stop him. He studied her for a long while, then straightened and seemed to make a decision.

"From the crime scene and autopsy reports, your father was most likely unconscious after the SUV flipped over," he said, his gaze like steel. "Your mother, on the other hand, was presumed conscious, as she had been pulled out of the wreckage before she was shot."

Her hands balled into fists, and she drew in a shaky inhale.

"Ilaria."

Her eyes met his.

"We're going to find whoever did this." His eyes were ice cold, and she shivered even though she knew his wrath wasn't directed at her. She knew he meant what he said, and in that moment, she was glad he was on her side.

He reached for her hand again, and this time she didn't pull away.