Chapter 1

Gavin MacSween pushed himself to give just a little more effort as he neared the midway point in his morning run. The sun was already up and it promised to be another sweltering day in Palm Springs. His feet raised desert dust as he ran and his face was covered in sweat and streaked with dirt as the temperature was already beginning to rise.

He was quite obviously a fit young man. His shoulders were broad, muscled from the fact that he swam competitively. His balance and graceful motion spoke of his years of intensive training in martial arts. Apart from physical fitness there was something else about him though, something indefinable to a casual observer. Gavin exuded a presence, an aura that mixed self confidence with just an undertone of menace.

To understand that you would need to know something of his life up until this point. He had recently successfully relocated with his family to the US having come from Scotland, a move that kept him perhaps just one step ahead of the local law enforcement agencies in Glasgow. For over a year Gavin had lived a double life. On the one hand he was a quiet and hard working student. He'd done well at school and had breezed through his first year of a business degree at Strathclyde University.

But Gavin was also the notorious Glasgow vigilante and he had killed more than a dozen men in the past year, including the heads of several of the most powerful crime gangs that preyed on Glasgow's weak, innocent or unsuspecting public.

The guilt of having watched his birth mother being raped and strangled and not being able to do anything to save her had lived with him since he was aged eight. Adopted by a loving family, he had nonetheless obsessed about finding those that had killed his mother as he grew up. He kept newspaper cuttings from the time of her death and he searched for every little clue he could find as to the identity of the killers.

Eventually circumstances came together to give him an opportunity to expunge the feelings of helplessness he had experienced as an eight-year-old. With a gun supplied through a contact he had made on a trip to the States, he had set out on the journey that led to him becoming the vigilante.

Having shot and killed the rapist and strangler in a Glasgow bar, Gavin found that he had developed a taste for dispensing his own brand of summary justice. Fuelled by the romantic notions inspired by western novels his real father had left behind, Gavin saw himself as a frontiersman, dispensing justice. The rule of law could only go so far, the police and courts were hampered, hamstrung and too many innocent people were left without justice. Gavin wanted to rectify that.

His yearlong campaign had disrupted the dealings of the Glasgow gangs. He broke up their drugs trade and set clan against clan. The distrust and paranoia that was rife amongst the criminals had helped to make that relatively easy and the vigilante's growing reputation had gained him sensational coverage in the media and definite support from the general public. In short, he became a local hero, a defender of the ordinary man and woman of Glasgow against organised crime. He did it with that sense of romanticism that also endeared him to the people of Glasgow and that led to the sobriquet — 'The Romantic Vigilante'.

It had to be said that along the way there were a number of bumps in the road. The family that had adopted him were the source of most of those, although one of the people the vigilante had saved proved to be another worry for a while too.

Gavin had eventually confessed what he was doing to his family. He was already a hero to his younger 'sister' having saved her from a gang of bullies at school and nothing he did could turn her against him. His 'mother' was sympathetic — as a woman, she lived with the constant fear of violent crime in what was a hard city. As a mother she could appreciate something that made her and her family safer from the worst elements in society, elements that she could see the law couldn't entirely deal with. She mostly worried for Gavin's safety, but she didn't condemn what he was doing outright.

Gavin's 'father' was a different story. If the truth be told he felt threatened by what his adopted son was capable of. His fear manifested itself in moral outrage and eventually led to Glen Anderson's death when he inadvertently led one of the criminal gangs to himself and they had abducted and tortured him to death in an effort to find Gavin. Before his death, Glen came to realise that maybe there was a need for someone like the vigilante after all.

Lizzie Houston was a girl that Gavin had saved from a serial rapist. He had shown his romantic nature in the way he had spoken to her as he tried to calm her down after her ordeal. Lizzie's subsequent interviews on TV stressed that Gavin had talked about making sure fair maidens and damsels felt safe to go out at night and the name the 'romantic vigilante' began to gather momentum.

Gavin met Lizzie in a student bar and she recognised him immediately, giving him some sleepless nights as he wondered whether she would turn him in to the police. His 'sister', Fiona, had eventually succeeded in seducing him into her bed after years of trying. Fiona was able to see that Lizzie was in love with Gavin — after all they both hero worshipped him for saving them. With Fiona's help, Lizzie was soon also sharing Gavin's bed and the girls found that they enjoyed sharing each other too.

Together, the girls had rescued Gavin and nursed him after one of his vigilante attacks had gone wrong and he'd sustained a flesh wound from a gunshot.

Gavin's real father had left him while he had been very young, but had continued to secretly watch his son grow up. Fraser Gilchrist had drifted into Glasgow's gangs and found himself increasingly disgusted with what he saw around himself, but was unable to get out of it. There seemed to be only one way to leave his life with the Cullen Clan and that was in a box. However, once Gavin knew who Fraser was, he managed to set up a new identity (as Frank Bruton) for his father and hatched a scheme that would ensure that Fraser could join Gavin for his new life in America.

Gavin had 'liberated' some bank pass books that gave access to some millions of pounds of money that had been fraudulently obtained by one of his vigilante victims. That, combined with the money he had made renovating and selling some luxury city centre apartments, meant that none of them would be short of cash any time soon.

Before taking up the offer of a sports scholarship at a Southern Utah University (courtesy of his swimming ability) Gavin, Fiona and Lizzie were enjoying a vacation in Palm Springs. They had left his adoption mother and real father alone to get to know each other better. He had picked out a two week package of sun, golf, tennis and desert sun and they were already part way through the second week.

Each morning had started for Gavin with a four mile run and he had followed the same route every time. One particular point on the route required him to either cross a busy highway or opt to run alongside the railroad track and go under the road. Gavin opted to follow the tracks rather than have to stop and wait for a break in traffic. This morning that choice was about to change his life yet again.

As he emerged from the bridge under the highway, Gavin saw the body of a man lying by the railroad tracks. He slowed and approached the body carefully, his senses suddenly on full alert.

A thick coating of dust covered the man and it was doing its best to soak up the blood seeping from a gaping wound that slashed diagonally across his chest. Gavin could see from the amount of blood already lost that the man was nearly dead. One leg was folded under him at an unnatural angle — clearly broken. He wore what appeared to be a pair of blue jeans and a plaid shirt. A brown paper sack was visible, gripped tightly in his left hand and pressed firmly to his side.

Whatever had happened to him had happened recently given the fresh blood. Gavin guessed that he had either been hit crossing the tracks or he had fallen from a moving train. Glancing up, he took in the bridge above him and added a fall from above as another possibility. Whatever had happened, it was clear that there was nothing that could be done for the man now — he was too far gone.

Something must have alerted the man to Gavin's presence, because with a supreme effort he tried to speak. Gavin knelt down to hear better. Each word took something out of him and Gavin knew he had to listen closely given the price the man was paying. The voice was raspy but Gavin managed to make out the words.

"They let me out of prison out in 'Frisco. For ten long years I've paid for what I've done. I was trying to get back to Louisiana. Just to see my Rose and get to know my son."

The man fell silent then and Gavin thought perhaps it had all been too much for him, but after sucking in an agonized breath, his voice became stronger and somehow his head moved so that his eyes were staring deeply into Gavin's.

"Give my love to Rose, please won't you mister. Give her all my money; tell her to buy some pretty clothes. Tell my boy that daddy's so proud of him and don't forget to give my love to Rose."

The sheer intensity of the love this man felt for his wife and son was like a fire in his eyes and the fact that he knew he would never see them again seemed to lend him the strength to try to ensure one last message was passed on.

"Mister, here's the bag with all my money. It won't last them long the way it goes."

He had to halt again as the effort of reaching out to hand Gavin the paper sack must have hurt something fierce. When Gavin took the bag, he could see the worry in the man's. Would 'Rose' ever see it he was wondering?

"I promise I'll find her. I'll pass on your message and see that she gets every penny in this sack," Gavin tried to reassure him.

The man was surprised to hear the Scottish accent and perhaps the reference to pennies instead of dimes, but he didn't dwell on it, as his last few breaths were all he had left. He must have known that too, because he locked eyes with Gavin once again and his voice rasped.

"God bless you for finding me this morning ... And don't forget to give my love to Rose."

That last declaration of love accounted for the last words he would ever speak. This time when he fell silent Gavin knew it was over. The way his eyes dimmed, his head and his hand slumped; the way his entire body seemed to go slack, told the story that man was dead.

Gavin sat on the heels of his running shoes for a few moments, wondering what to do. It occurred to him that if he was to carry out the man's dying wishes, he would need some clue as to who he was in order to help the police track down his wife and son.

Reaching out tentatively, Gavin patted his shirt pockets but found nothing. He sank to my knees to get some purchase and then rolled the man over slightly to get access to the back pockets of his jeans. The bulge of his wallet was obvious and Gavin reached for it.

The little kick of dirt to his left caught his eye before the sound of the gunshot reached Gavin's ears and everything changed in an instant.

"POLICE OFFICER! FREEZE!"

Snatching the wallet, Gavin let the man roll onto his back once more and sprang over his body. He had only been half way through his normal morning run when he'd found the man so still had plenty left in his legs. The sudden surge of adrenaline didn't do any harm either and within seconds Gavin was running at full tilt, away from where the shot had come from.

Why run from the police you might ask? He hadn't done anything wrong after all. The answer to that was that past year of living the life of the vigilante had coloured Gavin's response to people shooting at him. It had also instilled an inherent need to avoid the law at all costs. His natural reaction was to get away from cop as quickly as possible before then deciding what to do.

"I SAID FREEZE, MOTHERFUCKER! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! NOW!"

Gavin heard the shout and then another shot, but he ignored both and kept running, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. How accurate was this cop with a handgun he wondered? How lucky was he?

The paper sack and the wallet were annoying him and he let the small rucksack he was carrying slip off one arm so he could quickly stuff both inside before hoisting it onto his back again. Freely able to pump his arms now, he increased his speed and began casting around for a likely escape route.

His most immediate problem (apart from the idiot shooting at him!) was that the cop was between Gavin and his motel. That meant that he would have to double back somehow while avoiding being caught. He had a good sense of direction though and the one area he was very familiar with in Cathedral City was the 3, nine hole championship golf courses that the Dorel Dorset boasted. He'd played on them every day for the past ten as he tried to master the game of golf.