Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Tate
She sits as far away from me as she can, but she’s still so close I can reach out and touch her if I wanted to.
I chose this car on purpose, and not because it drives fast or accommodates my large frame easily. I like the fact that there's hardly any distance between the two of us. She's sexy as fuck, and if I'm her guardian for the day, I’m going to enjoy this.
She's too free. Whereas other people are intimidated by us, Fran will have none of it. Her crassness borders on rude at times. I have to admit, I like it.
Up until a few years ago, she was always my sisters’ wee mate. I didn't pay any mind to her. But now… now she's a woman.
Now she's single.
She’s still obviously in pain, the way she touches her head from time to time. I don't know why she won’t admit it, won't tell me the truth. I have to assume that for whatever reason she doesn't want me to know.
I’ve experienced brutal pain before, and I know what it's like. I know how it feels.
“So what's your job in the bookstore?"
She freezes for a fraction of a second, so briefly I almost miss it, then she shrugs.
“It’s a small business, and places like that employ people that can do a variety of tasks.
I do everything from stocking the shelves, to making the coffee in the coffee shop, to ordering specialty things for various people that come in.
I set up book signings with authors, and I make sure that we've got paper towels and toilet paper in the restroom. " She gives me a grim smile.
“Sounds very glamorous," I say dryly.
"Oh, you know. The life of the rich and famous."
She looks out the window, quiet for a few minutes.
She gasps as we turn around the bend that takes us to the descent into the city.
Orangey pink light touches everything we can see with the golden fingertips of sunrise.
It's bloody gorgeous. Without a word, I pull to the side of the road, by a little stopping place for people to park to take in the scenic views.
There are a few on the way down the mountain, but I very rarely take the time to actually look.
She doesn't speak. Neither do I. We just watch as the seconds unfold with the sun illuminating everything it touches, before turning from orange and pink to a bright golden yellow.
“You ought to kiss the ground you come home to every day, Tate Cowen, just saying.”
I pull back onto the road silently, and she yawns. She's as tired as I am.
"And what are your job details?" she asks with a teasing glint in her eyes. She knows very well that I'm a part of the Cowen Clan. But my family dabbles in organized crime.
She's cheeky as fuck if she thinks I'm going to give her details. But maybe two can play at this game.
She wants me to give her the truth. I can embellish the truth with the best of them.
I shrug and give her a wry smile. “It’s a small business. We do many tasks.”
She moves very slowly closer to me, like I’m about to give her the trade secrets, and if she moves too quickly, I’ll stop confiding in her.
“Like what?” she asks with feigned nonchalance.
“No need to pretend you don’t know who we are, right”? I don't wait for her to respond but plow right on. "We have rules to enforce. I'm the one that punishes people that don't obey the rules."
Her jaw unhinges, and she stares at me unblinking as the car goes deeper into the city.
“What do you mean?" she asks. "What sort of… punishments do you… enforce?”
“Probably exactly the type you’re thinking of.” I keep my answer vague, my voice aloof.
"I suppose you… do things like…” She's looking for words and doesn't quite know how to say what she wants to. "Rough people up? Is that an actual job description?"
“Och, aye, lassie, no need to beat around the bush, now, is there?”
She shakes her head from side to side, still gazing at me with nothing short of hero worship in her eyes.
“No, definitely not," she says eagerly. Too eagerly. "Do go on."
I bite back a smile, and I do go on.
"Sometimes we loan money. Sometimes people who borrow money don't pay it back. So they have to pay it back in other ways. Sometimes people steal from us, and that wouldn't be very wise to allow people to steal from us, now, would it?"
She shakes her head again. "Oh, also definitely not."
"And sometimes, people betray our confidence."
"And those people need to be punished, too? This is your job?"
I shake my head. “Sometimes, but I don't like to mete out punishment straight away."
"No?"
"No." I clear my throat, and I speak slowly as if I'm reluctant to tell her the rest. I lower my voice to a deeper register. I'm having way too much fun with this.
"Our enemies that are due punishment need to wait. We like them wondering when we’ll come for them. We like them looking over their shoulders.”
She’s holding onto my every word, mouth open, eyes as wide as beautiful, brilliant moons.
"We don't punish or strike until they least expect it. And then when we do…" My voice grows even more menacing as I draw out the words. My voice is harsh. “The punishment is swift and merciless."
Some of this is true. Some of this is exaggerated. Some of this is embellished for the sake of drawing her interest, and I really fucking enjoy that.
I’m tired of hiding who I am, tired of watching everyone else in my family find their place in this world while I quietly toe the line, maintain anonymity, and enforce the rules of our Clan.
I want her to know exactly who I am. I know she suspects it, and has for quite a while, and I have no doubt my sisters talk.
She leans over to me, and is it my imagination or as has her voice gone a little more sultry?
“Have you ever had to punish a woman?"
My dick hardens, and I shift on my seat.
Is she really asking me what I think she is? Her question drips with sensual interest.
God, how I’d love to punish her.
"I have.”
That doesn't have quite the effect that I was hoping for. She blinks and pulls back to her side of the car.
Is she jealous? Angry? What the hell is this?
"Why do you ask?"
She shrugs. And when she speaks she is once again feigning nonchalance. "I just wondered if you find that hot.”
Of course I find it bloody hot, but she doesn’t need to know that.
"Are you making a mockery of my job?"
She blinks slowly. And shrugs one shoulder so seductively, it's as if she's making a move on me. "If you say so."
I grip the wheel harder, and the tension between us grows.
"I wouldn't tempt me if I were you."
"What's that supposed to mean? I’m supposed to be afraid?”
"It means that I like when I have to punish a woman. And it hasn't happened in such a long time, that maybe I wouldn't need much of an excuse to do it again."
There's no playing at anything now. We both know exactly what we're doing. We both know exactly what we want. Maybe we have for a while.
So I keep this up. I push her to where I want her to go.
"Let's be honest, Fran,” I say. "I wouldn't be driving you into town if I didn't want to, now would I?"
Her voice is almost a whisper. "I don't know about that."
"Why did you ask about me punishing women?”
She doesn't reply at first but makes a sound like a little caught mouse. Almost a squeak. We're getting closer to the centre now, and we need to change the subject before things get out of control.
She is absolutely someone in need of a firm hand. I know it. She does, too. It’s as if we’ve been tempted by what happened last night and what’s happening here, like our former selves have been replaced by the bolder versions of us.
Maybe we’re tired of playing by the rules. Maybe we’re tired of skirting around the bush.
“Firm hand?” she asks, her voice as sexy and heated as warmed honey.
“Aye.” I don’t even recognize my own voice, deep and suggestive.
She sighs, and her voice grows a little wistful. She speaks so earnestly, I wonder if this isn’t a part of her act. If this is the real Fran, speaking in all sincerity.
“I’ve always envied Paisley and Islan.”
“Have you?”
“Aye,” she says, turning back to look out the window.
She twists a lock of her hair thoughtfully, and she chews on her lip before she elaborates.
"It isn't just that they have this big, beautiful family.
" Her voice is a little wobbly. Has she gotten emotional with these medications and her injury? That happens to people sometimes.
She goes on. "They hated all the rules they had.
I hated all my freedom. They hated having to answer to all of you.
I hated having to answer to no one." She smiles a little sadly.
I look at her briefly, and then my eyes go back to the road, because I'm suddenly very aware that she's being sincere.
Maybe that's why she's pushed me. Maybe that's why she's so sassy.
"So yes." Her voice is deep and sultry again, sexy as fuck. "I crave a firm hand. Though I do wonder what a man like that would do to a woman like me."
My mind is teeming with the possibilities of how a man with a firm hand would deal with a woman like her. I could think of a few things.
Some women prefer to be equals. Others prefer an open relationship. Some like old-fashioned relationships, and maybe some like to be with a dominant male.
"We’re very close," she says briskly, pointing outside her window, and at first, I think she’s talking about me and her. Then she pulls out her phone and scrolls through a message.
Suddenly she gasps and taps her screen so quickly I think she's going to break it.
“Everything okay?”
She quickly breathes out. “Aye, of course it is. Just saw something surprising is all. Got a text from a friend who found out some great news.”
Lying again.
She quickly closes the messaging app and pulls up the directions again.
“You’re going to drive to the end of this road."
We've come now into Inverness Centre, and our little game is over.
But I haven't forgotten it.
"Thanks again for taking me," she says briskly. "I'll pay you for your troubles."