Page 94 of Love Bomb

“While you do that,” Darach said, holding a tray full of steaming mugs. “I’ll get everybody settled. Kade popped out for some biscuits for the tea and should be back any minute.”

Honestly, their mother had a lot to answer for. They were in the middle of a meeting to plan illegal activity, and all Darach could think about was being a good host.

Once in his bedroom, Bain closed the door behind Rona, then folded his arms and glared at her. “You want to tell me why we have an army in the living room?”

“Isn’t it great?” Rona beamed at him. She was back to wearing the pink fluffy jumper that made him want to eat her up. It was very distracting. “Kirsty was really upset that Benson Security is guarding the folly and she decided to help us get past his guards—seeing as this Grunt guy won’t quit the job without Lake’s say so, and Lake’s incommunicado.”

“That explains Kirsty,” Bain said. “What about the rest?”

“Well, Margaret says this qualifies as a worthy cause, on account of my parents being, well, horrible people. Apparently, Knit or Die haven’t had a good cause to fight for in a wee while, and they’re itching to get back into it.”

Bain had heard all about the causes Knit or Die had taken up over the years. If the stories were even half true, he was up shit creek without a paddle.

“Also,” Rona continued. “Brenda Miller is here in a dual capacity. She’s a member of Knit or Die, but she also helps run the secret women’s refuge behind the spa.”

Bain groaned. “It’s secret for a reason, Rona. We’re not supposed to tell people about it.”

She looked confused. “But everybody seems to know already. Anyway, the point is, Brenda is here representing the women of the refuge, who are more than happy to take down a big old penis. Her words, not mine. The refuge women are on standby, in case we need them.”

Bain made an executive decision that under no circumstance would they need the refuge women. He had his hands full controlling the people who were already there.

“This was supposed to be a small job,” Bain said with taut patience. “You, me, and my brothers. We were keeping it quiet on account of there being a high chance we’ll get arrested for blowing up the folly. Remember?”

She shrugged. “I only told two people—Margaret and Kirsty. I’m not responsible for the rest of them. I seem to remember that was your doing. If you’d kept your mouth shut you wouldn’t be in this position.”

Why were her actions always his fault?

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal,” Rona said, batting those big eyes at him. “But all of these people have come to help. So, maybe we should let them.”

Bain heaved a sigh. “What could go wrong?” he said.

“Bain MacGregor,” Dougal’s voice bellowed through the house. “There had better not be any hanky-panky going on up there!”

Bain hung his head while Rona laughed.

“Rona tells me we have a problem,” Bain said when he was back in the crowded living room.

What he was going to do with a group of knitting obsessed women, a Day-Glo mayor, and a bunch of domestic violence survivors, he didn’t know. But, to keep Rona happy, he was briefing everyone on their situation.

“Apparently, her parents have asked Benson Security to double the guard around the folly tonight, because they know this is our last chance to take it down before the will is contested in court tomorrow.”

There were gasps of outrage before everyone turned to glare at Kirsty.

“Hey,” she said. “Don’t blame me. Benson Security isn’t my business. You have a problem with your lingerie, come see me. Otherwise take this up with Lake when he gets back from London.”

“We should take it up with Grunt. That’s who we should be talking to,” Margaret said. “How could he take this job in the first place?”

“Ignorance,” Darach said. “I talked to him yesterday and he was totally clueless. Had no idea who Rona’s parents were or why the folly was so contentious.”

“Typical,” Margaret said in disgust. “I suppose he’ll be there tonight, overseeing everything and making sure his team stays on high alert.”

“Not necessarily.” Kirsty grinned. “I called Grunt’s wife and had a long talk with her. Claire agrees with the cause and she’s happy to stage a crisis at home to get Grunt away from the folly for an hour or so.”

“Crisis?” Margaret said. “All she needs to do is stub her toe and Grunt will come running.”

Bain had to agree. He’d once seen Claire shed a tear—one, single tear—and Grunt had walked off the soccer pitch and taken her home. Presumably just to cuddle her.

Pathetic.