“Aye, you can.”

“Fine. But here’s the deal … I do all the legwork. Your only role in this is helping me put the pieces together. You will rest up as long as the doc says you need to.”

He considered this.

Then … “Fine.”

“Okay. Let’s start with the club. What the hell has been going on?”

7

Lachlan

He’d just taken a sip of coffee when the piercing cry of a bagpipe’s opening note split through the office, startling him. The coffee missed Lachlan’s mouth and landed on his white shirt.

“Fuck.”

His bagpiper, Malcolm, played as he sauntered around the castle at 3 p.m. every day to signal afternoon tea was now being served. Lachlan’s members loved the tradition.

He, however, somehow managed to continually forget that Malcolm started outside his office at the same time every bloody day.

Striding out the door, Lachlan tried to hurry through the castle without being seen by members. Occupancy was relatively low as his members preferred to stay in the summer and winter months. However, his staff still went about their duties, trying not to look at the boss quizzically as he sped through the castle with a big, dirty brown stain on his shirt.

Of all people, he encountered Sebastian Stone on the gallery.

“Have you seen Gabriella?” Stone asked, referring to his fiancée. The club admitted only TV and movie industry professionals and their spouses. While Gabriella was in the music industry, she gained guest entry through her relationship with Stone. He was an arrogant prick who everybody knew was fucking around on a woman he didn’t deserve, but he was a bloody good actor with a stellar reputation. Stone was good at hiding how much of an arrogant prick he was, and they didn’t admit anyone into Ardnoch who would cause trouble.

Lachlan inwardly huffed at the thought of the mess they currently faced; at least they did what they thought were thorough checks before granting a member admittance.

By we, he meant his board, made up of himself and three Hollywood stars: Lachlan’s friends, fellow actors Lucy Wainwright and Luther Ameen, and Hollywood legend, director Wesley Howard. Wesley had directed Lachlan’s biggest blockbuster, a sci-fi action movie along the lines of Terminator. They’d gotten along so well, they’d stayed in touch. Wesley invested in Ardnoch and owned the largest multimillion-pound holiday home on the estate. The irony of that was he also visited the estate the least of all its members, though his wife visited annually during the summer.

“No,” Lachlan answered as he moved past Stone. He glanced over his shoulder at him. “The Spa?” Two buildings, a five-minute walk from the castle, erected in a contemporary style at odds with the castle’s architecture but in complete harmony with the woodlands surrounding it housed a gym and a spa and salon. Both were very popular with his members.

“I’ll have Wakefield call the spa to check. Hey, Adair?”

Lachlan stopped, turning to him.

Stone smirked. “Did I see Camille and Barton leaving yesterday?”

It took effort, but he kept his expression neutral. Another reason the resort was quiet was because he’d informed his guests about the incidents. Mac hadn’t wanted him to, but Lachlan couldn’t put his members’ lives in danger. And there was the small matter of the detective inspectors showing up and insisting they might have to question the members. Lachlan had shown them around the estate where the incidents occurred and handed over the evidence Mac had collected. When they’d said they might have to return to interview the members, he knew it was time to inform them of the truth.

Lachlan hunted down all his guests and explained what had happened to Mac and that there’d been threats made on the estate. Lachlan made it clear the threats were obviously geared toward him and that their security team was working around the clock to keep everyone safe. Half the members left, anyway. More than just Camille and Barton, which Stone would soon realize. Those who stayed valued the privacy the estate offered over the danger. That might sound crazy to some, but sometimes peace was worth any cost.

Lachlan hoped those who left the estate respected their membership enough to remain quiet about the situation. If his reputation was tarnished, if Ardnoch lost its reputation as one of the most prestigious members-only clubs in the world, Lachlan faced selling it.

An estate that had been in his family for centuries.

He shrugged noncommittally at Stone.

“You’ll notify me immediately if anything else occurs.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

Lachlan bristled.

“I have to keep my fiancée safe.”

“You’re perfectly safe here.”

“Well, your head of security was stabbed, so I’m not too sure about that.”

“You’re welcome to leave.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at Lachlan. “Shouldn’t you be groveling to keep us all sweet so we’ll stay?”

He strode toward Stone, towering a few inches above his six feet. Stone was a good actor. He didn’t flinch a bit as Lachlan bent his head toward him. “I don’t fucking grovel. Stay or don’t stay.”