Countdown - Iris Johansen [53]
“You said you’d keep him away from her,” Trevor said coldly. “Get him the hell out of here.”
His smile faded. “Jock’s home is with me. Such as it is.”
“I believe I’ll leave you to your discussion.” Bartlett moved toward the door. “But I never tilt at windmills, MacDuff. Though I do believe Don Quixote’s nobility overshadowed his foolishness.”
As the door closed behind Bartlett, Trevor repeated, “Get Jock the hell away from here. Or I’ll do it myself.”
MacDuff shook his head. “No, you won’t. You need me. If he goes, I go.”
“Don’t try to bluff me.” His gaze was narrowed on MacDuff’s face. “You may not even be able to help me. If Mario comes through, I may be able to find the gold myself. How the hell do I know you have any valid lead at all? Maybe it’s a con.”
“Give me what I want and see.”
“Bloodthirsty bastard.”
“Ah, yes. That I am. But you should have realized that when you saw everything I was willing to give up to get my chance.” He leaned back in the chair and his gaze wandered around the library. “It’s strange sitting in this visitor’s chair when I always sat where you are. Life takes odd turns, doesn’t it?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Just a wee detour.” His gaze shifted back to Trevor. “I did tell him not to go near her, but it didn’t work out. It won’t happen again.”
“He’ll stay away from her?”
“No, but I’ll always be with them.” He held up his hand as Trevor started to curse. “She wants to sketch him. I warned her about him. I’m not sure she believed me, but that won’t matter as long as I’m there to intercede.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“Then talk to her, tell her not to do it.” He tilted his head. “If you think it will do any good.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Actually, my mother was a quintessential bitch, so I’ll not take offense at that remark.” He got to his feet. “I’ll make sure Jane sketches him in the courtyard so that you can have someone you trust keep watch on them. I’m quite aware that wouldn’t be me.” He shook his head as he gazed around the library again. “Strange . . .”
“I hope it sticks in your throat to see me here,” Trevor said through his teeth.
MacDuff shook his head. “No, this place doesn’t define who I am. Do I love it? With every breath. But I don’t have to be here. I carry it with me.” He smiled. “You look very good in that chair, Trevor. Quite the laird. Enjoy.” His smile faded as he turned and headed for the door. “If you choose not to interfere, I’ll be grateful. It’s the first time since I found him that he’s responded positively to anyone but me. I believe she’s good for him. That’s the bottom line for me.”
“I won’t trade—”
But MacDuff had already left the library.
Trevor drew a deep breath and tried to smother the frustration that was tearing through him. He did need MacDuff, dammit. He’d begun thinking of the laird as a long shot, but the more he found out about MacDuff’s visits to Herculaneum, the more Trevor was beginning to believe he might be the answer.
Was MacDuff bluffing? Maybe, but Trevor couldn’t risk it. Okay, so consider the situation calmly. MacDuff wouldn’t want anything to happen to Jane. It wasn’t in his best interests. He’d promised to be on-site during any encounter, and Trevor trusted him to keep his word. Not that he wouldn’t have Brenner on hand to keep an eye on Jock.
Hell, the entire situation could be resolved if he could go to Jane and tell her that those damn sketching sessions were unacceptable. But that wasn’t an option.
If MacDuff had warned her about Jock and she was still planning on seeing the boy, then Trevor’s interference would do no good. She’d do as she pleased, and any protest from him would be useless.
But she never let stubbornness get in the way of good sense. So try to get ammunition to convince her that it was reasonable for her to turn her back on the boy. Until then he’d take measures to protect her and try to keep himself from obviously stepping between them.
Ammunition. He reached for the telephone and dialed Venable. “I have a favor