Chapter 16
L uca stared at Dal with a skeptical expression. “Ye are in love with a girl ye have never even met?”
Dal flushed, but his affable grin across the card table where the three boys were seated and playing poker curled his lips. “I did meet her once,” he protested. “Sorta.”
Luca’s eyes dropped to the cards in his hands and then back up. “Sorta?”
“Aye. It was last year when I came to Neamh to meet and interview with Darro and apply for an internship with Heaven’s Gate. We were never introduced, but I watched her riding out on that horse of hers, her long hair blowing back in the wind. She sat on that horse so well that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Gorgeous in every way,” he enthused, a dreamy look in his eyes. “I knew right then that she was something special.”
Luca looked doubtful, but interested. He really liked Dal, and the few days he’d spent at Neamh in his company had been great. It had even renewed his one-time vision of being a veterinarian. His interest was more in exotic animals, but that probably was a pipe-dream.
He glanced over at Belton, who was furtively glancing around the barracks with a half-panicked look on his face. The incident with the sniper taking a shot at them had really spooked him. He had yet to relax and smile one of his famous toothy grins that the girls seemed to like. Dal’s admitted interest in Darro’s sister seemed to perk him up though.
“Is she that hot?” Belton asked, his blue eyes lighting up. “Ye got a picture?”
Dal grunted and reached for his phone. When he held it up for the two boys to see, Luca instantly recognized it from the picture on the fireplace inside Neamh.
“That’s all ye got? A picture of a picture?” Luca scoffed.
“Cripes, she’s hot alright,” Belton breathed in male appreciation. “I’d like to have a go at that lass myself.”
Dal frowned. “Watch it, she’s spoken for,” he replied sharply.
“What makes ye think a beauty like that will go for ye?” Belton grunted, throwing his cards on the table in a huff.
Dal’s eyes narrowed at Belton. “Maybe because my hair isn’t the color of boiled carrots?”
Luca rolled his eyes. “Chances are she wouldn’t be interested in either of ye. If she didn’t give ye a yearning backward glance, Dal, then she didn’t even notice ye. She might give me a shot though.”
A heated argument ensued over which of them had the best chance with the lovely Ainsley until a disbelieving voice suddenly interrupted them.
“Am I hearing this right, Angus? These three knuckle-heads are arguing over my sister when they should be paying attention to their surroundings?”
The boy’s heads swiveled in unison to see Darro and Angus standing just inside the door. Darro did not appear to be amused.
Luca jumped up, Belton and Dal copying him. “S-sorry, sir,” he stuttered, feeling his face flush. Dal and Belton weren’t doing any better. They were stammering right along with him. “Sorry, s-sir. N-No offense intended.”
Angus suddenly grinned. “Ye are right, boss, but ye have to remember the age. Hormones at work trump danger more times than a lad can count.”
Darro slapped the rounded coil of a horsewhip against his leg with a steely glare and Luca shifted nervously. Dal put himself behind the table and Belton backed up with a wary eye. Both boys had heard Dal’s version of the infamous horsewhip.
“I suggest ye keep yer voices down and lay low,” Darro snapped. “We could hear ye halfway to the barn. Anyone looking for two igit lads wouldn’t have any trouble locating Luca and Belton.”
Dal stood taller and took a deep breath. “Sorry, sir, it was my fault.”
“Of course it was,” Darro barked. “Keep yer mind on business and not women and ye are guaranteed to live longer. And that goes for all three of ye,” he added, his steely gaze softening somewhat as if trying to contain a sliver of mirth.
When he whirled and turned on his heel to go out, Angus shot them a grin and a wink. “Find a shadow to stand in instead of out in the open in front of windows and within quick access of two doors. This one isn’t even locked. Is the back one?” he asked as he stepped outside and nodded towards the door to the outhouse behind the barracks. “Joe and Bubs can’t do it all. And ye need to be careful when ye open the outhouse door. Ye never know what might be hiding in there just waiting for an opportunity,” he added as a parting shot, and then closed the door behind him.
Quickly the boys locked both doors and then they all looked at each other.
“Come on, help me with this table,” Dal instructed as he picked up one side of the card table. The boys moved the table into the spare room that was reserved for Angus. Then they locked the door and put the bar across it while Dal nailed a blanket over the window above the bed, blocking out the light from the room. “Now, we can play cards,” Dal declared with a grin. “And no more talk about stealing my lass,” he warned the other two.
Luca huffed and Belton rolled his eyes, but playing cards and arguing about girls was infinitely better than just sitting and waiting for an unknown assailant to spring out of nowhere.
“Uh...I think I might need to take a whiz?” Belton’s tentative voice drew Luca and Dal’s accusing gaze.
Luca looked furtively around, images of something horrible and black with red eyes arising from the depths of the bench hole once the outhouse door was opened. Or worse yet, a volley of shots putting holes in all three of them because they couldn’t let Belton go outside alone. He looked to Dal for help.
Finally, Dal grabbed the 2-liter bottle of water he’d been carrying around and emptied it in the little sink in front of the mirror. “Here, use this,” he said gruffly, handing the bottle to Belton.
Belton looked incredibly relieved. “I will, thanks.”
Even Luca was relieved, although he tried not to show it. He was the one who was a confidential informant after all. He did dangerous stuff all the time. He would go outside again if he had to, but he was glad he didn’t have to.
Heading to the deck when everyone was outside to get food was one thing. Now that everyone was inside and the night was deathly still, he didn’t want to set foot outside the door.
***
O NCE JAMIE AND PAULEY were in the hayloft, Jamie turned around and closed the hatch above the ladder. It creaked loudly as it went down and that satisfied him. Should they be interrupted, he would have fair warning. Then he grabbed Pauley’s hand and dragged her along behind him towards the right side of the barn.
“Where are we going?” Pauley gasped. “The double door where the hay is loaded into the barn is on the back side. I figured we could open one of the doors and see most of the back pastures and into the hills above us. The window on the left is a little tall unless we stand on a hay bale.”
Jamie nodded. “Aye, we could, and we will. But right now, I want to do something else,” he replied wickedly, his eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness. “Ah, here we go.” A satisfied grin curled his lips as he quickly spread the blanket out on the hay-filled floor and pulled her down with him. He sat in front of a stack of hay bales and leaned up against them. Then he patted his thighs in invitation. “Over ye go, lass.”
Pauley’s eyes opened wide and a smirk lifted her beautiful lips. “What makes ye think I’m going to just crawl across yer lap?” she scoffed, crossing her legs beneath her and sitting sideways to watch his face.
Jamie watched her eyes light up in challenge as he studied her. The scrabble of what was probably a mouse in the silence startled her, and her breath hitched as she gazed furtively around. His glance at his watch told him it was going to be an even longer night as they waited for the soothing rays of the sun to bring warmth and light to their world. The stillness of the wind and the mocking gleam of the moon wasn’t doing anyone any favors at 1:30 in the morning. If there were spirits about, this was their time of a 24-hour day. Especially on All Hallows Eve.
The tense set of Pauley’s shoulders, and his, told him they both needed a distraction. Neamh was well guarded, they could take a few hours off and relieve some tension.
“Are ye going to make me come after ye then?” he mocked, taking her chin between her fingers and forcing her gaze to him.
Her eyelids drooped slightly and she whispered, “That all depends on what ye have in mind.”
“I think that’s quite obvious. That reminder I promised is ready to be delivered, and yer naughty backside needs it.”
Their lips weren’t an inch apart. “And who are ye that I should obey just because ye wish it?” she challenged softly.
He slid his hand behind her slender neck and up into her hair, holding her still. “I’m the man who’s falling in love with ye, Pauley MacBride, and I’ll no tolerate disobedience in my arms.” He dropped his mouth and took her lips, his tongue slipping along the seam of hers, seeking entrance. “Open to me, firebrand,” he insisted, the fingers of his other hand stealing beneath her sweater and pinching a soft nipple. It hardened like a blooming flower. She gasped and then groaned as his tongue took possession of her mouth and she melted into him. The gentle scent of peach from her delicate skin was intoxicating.
His tadger sprang into life and danced with pleasure behind the zip of his trousers. Her soft, yielding body was eroding his self-control at an alarming rate. Only one other woman had enjoyed this effect on him, making him lose every ounce of self-control he had, and he’d married her. It took everything he had to pull away from Pauley, but he finally managed it.
She stared up at him as if she too, were in shock. “Jamie,” she gasped, trembling all over.
“Unless ye want me to strip ye down, have my wicked way with ye, and then escort ye to the nearest altar, ye’d best get over my lap while I still have some resistance left,” he grated. “Once I take yer body ye’ll be mine, lass, so if ye aren’t ready for that, ye’d best obey me.”
***
P AULEY TRIED TO GET a grip on herself. Never before had she been so tempted to throw caution to the wind and indulge in an impulsive, wild affair. Her lady parts were humming the mating tune, her breasts were practically reaching for his touch of their own accord, and pushing herself back from his broad chest with trembling hands was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. She inhaled deeply and ran shaky fingers through her hair. Her lips felt plumped, the blood of desire running through every vein of her heated body, including those. Her panties were damp.
She looked up into his stern face and realized her choice had already been made. She was falling for him too, and that scared the hell out of her. He expected her obedience, and she wanted to give it to him. Maybe she wasn’t ready for marriage again, but she was certainly ready for the effect his touch had on her. It was as if her body had been waiting for him, for this experience.
Need blossomed into a hungry, raging furnace that she’d never felt the like of before. The banked fires raging in his eyes both scared and excited her. With a submissive whimper she crawled across his lap and waited with breathless anticipation.
When Jamie’s hand slipped beneath her belly to unsnap her jeans, she whipped her head around to catch his gaze. “W-What are ye doing?”
“A proper spanking is done on bare skin,” he replied, efficiently making short work of the button and zipper, then neatly lifting her middle with one arm and sliding both panties and jeans down below the curve of her bottom.
“I-I thought this was just a reminder,” she squeaked. Feeling the pink stealing into her face because he was seeing her bare bottom for the first time, she couldn’t help wondering what he thought. She didn’t need to wonder long.
“Ye have a beautiful backside, lass,” he said gruffly.
Pauley shivered as he ran his palms over the flesh of her buttocks and gently squeezed. Then his hand pushed her panties and jeans further down her thighs and she could feel the muscles in her legs trembling as he trailed his fingers back up between them. She knew she was wet, unlike her mouth which was so dry she could barely speak. “J-Jamie.”
“Shush,” he soothed, his palm making circling motions. “I have ye right where ye need to be.”
When the first set of three spanks landed on her shrinking bottom, she gasped with shock. This wasn’t what she’d thought it would be. It hurt a lot more than the first reminder had. “Stop that,” she hissed as she turned around and glared at him. “That hurt!”
He grinned down at her. “What did ye expect? That every time would be a few light spanks and it would all be forgiven? It doesn’t work like that, lass. If a lesson is to be taught, it gets stronger each time until the naughty one gets the idea.” He waggled a finger at her. “And ye have been very naughty, teasing me, taunting me, and trying to get a rise out of me. I’ve no had a chance to give ye what ye really need, but now I’m going to do my best to do a proper job of it.”
“Y-Ye don’t have to...”
Her words stuck in her throat as his hand began to rain down the promised retribution. It was all Pauley could do to absorb the sharp sting of the smacks as he set fire to her bottom in a way she’d never expected.
“Jamie,” she squealed, trying to keep her cries down in case someone might be in the barn and hear them. “P-please stop.”
He did finally stop and began to soothe some of the burn in a circular motion with his hard palm. That hurt too, in its own way. Desperately, Pauley tried to keep the sobs bottled up in her chest, she wasn’t supposed to cry. She was tough, she was a hardened police woman, she’d seen it all. Tears made you weak. The effort was costing her though, and her body tensed up even more.
“Let go, Pauley,” Jamie crooned as his hand slid up and down her thighs and then into her wet heat. “Ye are so tense and tight, wee firebrand. Let go and I’ll catch ye.”
His words caused something to snap inside her and suddenly Pauley was shaking with pleasure and sobbing. His hand wrought every ounce of pleasure he could from her body and then he pulled her up into his arms while she wept into his shoulder. Rocking and crooning, he held her close until she finally ran out of sobs and lay exhausted in his arms.
“Why do I get the feeling that was a long time coming?” Jamie murmured into her hair.
Pauley yawned so wide the tears leaked again. “Probably because it was,” she replied weakly. “I learned a long time ago that crying never got ye anywhere. And men especially will use it against ye.”
“Ouch. Not all men, hopefully.”
She chuckled and sat up a little, moving gingerly. “Maybe not all men. But tears are seen as a sign of weakness in a male dominated career.”
“Because men are hardwired to serve and protect.”
“And a woman isn’t?” she challenged.
He shook his head. “Not in the same way, wee one,” he replied with all seriousness. “When it comes to their young, the female is a rabid beast when they are threatened. When it comes to a man, he feels the same way for both his woman and his progeny.”
“Maybe,” she replied doubtfully. “And some men are just predators.”
He nodded. “As are some women. There are always exceptions to the rule.”
For some reason, the word predator brought Florence to mind. As if his words had acted as a hook and fished something out of her brain that had been bothering her all evening and she hadn’t been able to figure it out. She snapped her fingers as it clicked into place. “The rifle,” she exclaimed.
Jamie’s brows knitted. “The rifle?”
“Aye, Florence’s rifle. Remember she said she handed it back to Juice because he wanted to take a shot?”
“Aye.”
“The rifle was found on the right side of the tree limb on the ground. Florence is right-handed.” She stared at Jamie. “Juice is left-handed. If he’d been holding the rifle in his left hand when she handed it to him, wouldn’t it have fallen to the left?”
“Hmm...pretty flimsy supposition, isn’t it? Left-handed shooters can be ambidextrous, but I can see how it might be harder for him if he wasn’t a sniper to begin with.”
Pauley took out her phone and punched a few buttons. “He wasn’t a sniper that I know of. But since he is left-handed, wouldn’t he have reached for the gun with his left hand automatically, then made the adjustment? She said he never got a shot off because the Ghillie Dhu fried them both.”
“Who are ye calling?” Jamie asked.
“Forensics.”
A woman’s disembodied voice came across the phone. “Forensics.”
“Angel, this is Pauley. Do you have the fingerprints back on the sniper rifle yet?”
“Aye, Pauley,” Angel replied. “The only fingerprints on the rifle were Florences.”
“No other prints at all?” Pauley pressed for confirmation.
“Nay, only one set of prints and no evidence of anything being wiped clean. Florence was undoubtedly the last person to handle and shoot her rifle. Mica checked her hands for gunpowder residue and she was dirty.”
“Thank ye, Angel,” Pauley replied, her fingers shaking as she rung off and punched in Mica’s number.
“Pauley, what in the devil are ye doing calling me at 3:00 in the morning?” Mica grumbled.”
“Were ye sleeping?”
Silence for a moment, then sarcasm. “Since I’m talking to ye, obviously I wasn’t. What do ye want?”
“Where’s Florence?”
“In the hospital, of course. Where else would she be after getting hit by lightning?” he asked testily. “They are keeping her overnight for observation. She’ll be interviewed at the station in the morning.”
“And how is Brodie?”
“Pauley, what are ye getting at? Brodie is stable. He made it through the surgery and he should be fine, although he’s still in critical condition. What’s with the 20 questions?” Mica was starting to sound pissed.
“I just talked to Angel. The only sets of fingerprints on Florence’s rifle belonged to Florence.”
There was silence again as Mica absorbed the possibilities and then he swore. “Cripes. Have we been played, Pauley?”
“What if Florence is in this up to her neck?” Pauley suggested. “Wouldn’t Brodie be a loose end if he wasn’t in it with her? Mayhap she is the one tying up loose ends. Mayhap she wasn’t forced to be here tonight, but was simply accompanied by Juice. And remember, she said her son was with his father? Does that sound like a professional hitman, making idle threats? Fortune favored her by Juice getting fried and presenting her with an alibi and someone to blame for her being here.”
“I’m on it, Pauley. I’m heading over to the hospital now. There should be a guard on Brodie’s room, but they won’t keep her from going in. It’s the perfect opportunity to finish him off.”
“I’m coming into town. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
Mica practically shouted into the phone. “Nay, Pauley. Ye stay there with Luca and Belton. If ye came into town and someone else tried to get Luca and Belton, ye’d never forgive yerself. I can handle it from here, and I’ll call Quinn and let him know.”
Pauley knew Mica was right, but she itched to get into the action. “Yer right,” she said grudgingly. “Let me know what happens.”
“Side lined again?” Jamie teased.
“Aye,” she said glumly, tugging at her jeans and panties. “Cripes,” she hissed as she stood up to slide them over her tender buttocks.
Jamie stood up with her and chuckled. “A bit sore, are we?” He ran his palms lovingly over her toasted globes and helped her get her clothes back in place.
“ We aren’t sore,” she retorted, shooting him a fierce glare.
“Ye asked for it,” he replied simply, “and I was more than willing to deliver.”
“It sounds like ye enjoyed it,” she accused, her eyes narrowing at him.
His arms embraced her slender body. “I enjoyed giving ye pleasure and taking yer mind off the situation for a while. I think ye needed that. I also enjoy giving ye what ye need, what makes ye happy and relaxed. So, aye, I did enjoy it in that regard. Causing ye pain isn’t an enjoyment, but sometimes the best pleasures in life are coupled with a little pain.”
Pauley arched an eyebrow. “I’ll let that pass for the moment, but I think I’ll need some samples of what yer talking about to truly believe that.”
“The ying and yang of pleasure and pain is well documented,” he assured her.
Pauley knew he was right but didn’t want to expand on the point, so she let it pass.
“Come on,” she said, picking up the blanket. “If we are going to spy on the back pastures until morning, let’s open one of the doors. That way we can keep an eye on the barracks where the boys are as well.”
When they had the door open, Jamie spread the blanket out and they lay on their stomachs and took turns with the binoculars. The landscape spread out before them, awesome and silent beneath a watchful moon.
Pauley adjusted the binoculars and leaned out the door and swept the base of Kelly Woods, looking for Juice’s figure in the tree. Was he still out there? Or had he fallen off the limb by now? There was no wind at all, a deathly stillness permeating everything. When his face suddenly filled the view, she almost dropped the binoculars. “I can see Juice from here,” she told Jamie, her body shuddering.
“Can ye see his hands?” Jamie asked. “Can we even be sure it’s Juice? If Florence is lying, she could be lying about that too. It might be someone else out there.”
Pauley’s gaze flickered down the body, looking for his right hand. It was there, along with his left hand, burned forever into the clothing of his body as if he’d grabbed his heart in fright. There was little doubt he died in fear, his mouth was gaping open as if he’d screamed in his last breath of life. The ring was there as well, the same one she’d seen on his hand at the bar. DNA would provide the rest of the proof.
“It’s him,” she whispered to Jamie, feeling half sick to her stomach. “At least the ring I saw is on his hand. What’s left of it anyway.” She turned to Jamie. “Do ye think it was lightning? Or could it really have been the Ghillie Dhu?”
Jamie considered the question for a moment, then sighed heavily. “I honestly don’t know, lass. I just know I’ve seen things I never thought possible. Is my mind playing tricks on me? Or are some of us just more vulnerable to the power of suggestion?”
“Even if there truly is some supernatural power at work, I’m guessing the department will write it off as a lightning strike. No one wants to be the idiot that puts the Ghillie Dhu as the cause of death in a report that goes up the chain, even if they believe in it.”
Jamie chuckled. “I can see that. But what about Florence? Do ye suppose she actually saw something? She seemed completely sure in the beginning. The woman was terrified.”
“Aye, but there are many such stories in the world, not just Scotland. Every country has its urban legends.”
Pauley turned to her side and propped her head up with one hand. “What happened with yer brother?” she asked softly, reaching out to run a finger down the side of his stubbly jawline. “Are ye ever going to tell me?”
Jamie turned to his side to face her. “Ye aren’t going to believe me.”
“Try me,” she replied with a smile.