Chapter 7
C assie
He was going to leave.
I wouldn’t blame him either, and I shouldn’t have a problem with it. Last night, I’d gone through hours and hours of therapy notes. The conclusion I’d reached was a logical one, and an exact scenario my therapist had modelled out. She’d described how I might meet someone at a point when my defences were low. That I’d fall hard and convince myself I was in love at first sight.
That it would be a reaction, not a reality.
Sullenly, I stared out the mansion’s front door, the damp breeze ghosting over my skin. My therapy notes told me whatever I thought I felt for Riordan was temporary. It would leave me as quickly as it had arrived, so starting a relationship on those terms was sketchy and unfair.
Next to me, Riordan waited, his hair mussed from guarding me all night and his broad shoulders stretching out the skeleton crew t-shirt I badly needed to steal so I could wear it to bed once he’d gone.
How could it be fake, the butterflies in my stomach when his green-eyed gaze came to me, or the fizz of attraction at how his muscles moved under his shirt?
“Just a hyperfixation.” My mumbled words were lost to the hails of the men getting out of the cars.
Behind one was a trailer with Riordan’s bike strapped onto it. He spotted it. Smiled.
“Can I ask a question?” I blurted.
Halfway to taking a step, he wheeled around. “No, I’m not taking you on my bike.”
I poked out my tongue. “It wasn’t that.”
Though now it was everything I wanted.
He tilted his head. “Then what? We need to talk to your protection detail.”
My confidence faltered. What did I want? Originally, it was simply him. I wanted to place my palms flat on his chest and gaze up at him. I wanted him to pick me up so I could curl my legs around his waist and our faces would be at the same height. I wanted soft kisses and hard… Other things.
Directly in my eyeline, he’d ordered his ex-girlfriend, who’d never really been a girlfriend and was more like a ghoul, to her knees. I hadn’t stuck around to watch her blow him. The jealousy had been too great. She’d preened, joyful at being allowed to touch him.
I wanted the right to do the same.
If that was the answer to making my feelings go away, I needed more time to frame the question.
“It’s delicate,” I managed.
“Then we’ll deal with the crew first then get to real talk later.”
He strode to the door, fist-bumping one skeleton crew member then giving a nod of greeting to another, all while not straying far away from me. Cool. That worked for me.
Under the cover of the porch, I joined him and hugged hello to Mick and punched Lonnie in the arm, turning to the last man with surprise. “Tyler, what are ye doing here?”
Arran’s bear of a team leader gave me a chin lift. Tyler was the tough, outdoorsman, ultra-capable type. The kind of guy who could defuse a bomb then use the cables to rewire his boat.
“Cass. Daniels pulled me in to run this show.”
He shoved his fingers into his dark-blond hair, and I tilted my head, working out why the heck an intercept guy had been put on bodyguard duties. Tyler operated undercover in remote corners of the country and over in Europe, shutting down trafficking rings. Often by force. I’d only ever met him a few times, but he was an important part of Arran’s crew. A deadly and effective killer but gentle with the women he saved.
“He wants ye in Deadwater,” I concluded slowly.
A meaningful glance was my answer. It told me to hush.
I shut my mouth. In a heartbeat, I’d worked it out. After Bronson was in our clutches, Arran still meant to take down the Four Milers. He needed Tyler there to handle the trafficking routes that brought women into their strip club which we knew also fronted a brothel. Not one where the women had any choice over being there.
I also had my own level of interest in Tyler. There was information I needed and had never been able to obtain, and had often thought that Tyler would be a good person to do some digging. I’d planned to ask Arran for his contact details, and oh look, he’d just walked straight into my house.
I sensed someone staring at me and peered up at Riordan. He glanced from me to Tyler, his jaw tight. I jumped to make the introduction.
“Riordan, this is Tyler. One of Arran’s most trusted. Tyler, Riordan’s a new recruit.”
Tyler reached out a big hand for a shake then jacked his thumb at his car. “Brought your bike. I was careful with her.”
“Appreciate that,” Riordan grumbled back.
He stomped away over the gravel in the direction of the trailer, and I stared after him. Something had pissed him off, but unlike Arran’s strategy, I was at a loss to work this one out.
A short while later, with Riordan’s bike safely offloaded, two other men arrived, the thud of rotor blades having us all gaze skywards. Max and Maddock McRae both worked for the mountain rescue service and had flown over by helicopter from where they lived elsewhere in the Cairngorm mountains.
Riordan’s face was a picture.
Max was tight with my older brother, Struan, who was also due to return home as soon as he could. My whole family had been messaging me, but I’d played down my worries. I was covered. Six men and little ol’ me. It was safer for my relatives to stay away.
The other fact was this would all be over soon. The minute Arran had Bronson, the killer would be off the streets. I’d be able to rest easy. While contributing to the torture of the misogynistic prick.
“Everyone in the great hall,” Tyler ordered. He palmed my shoulder then handed over a rucksack. “Daniels’ missus told me to give that to you. Most of it’s for your boy.”
He gestured to a silent Riordan who now had on his collarless leather jacket that must’ve been returned with his bike. Guilt panged in me. This morning, I’d thrown on a hoodie and leather boots, the corridors chilly now autumn was here. I should’ve raided one of my brothers’ wardrobes for something his size.
Then again, I was pretty certain he wouldn’t have taken it.
The great hall of our house had been rebuilt after Jamieson had burned the place down, and we’d redesigned it to be a useable space for the family. There was kids’ play equipment, a big oak table, and even a bar.
I plonked down in a seat and hugged my knees, listening to Tyler work through a plan. He had the camera and alert feed running as he spoke, arranged with each man to have access, then moved on to comms. A schedule. Exactly what they’d do if someone entered the estate or even the building.
All listened carefully, nodding when needed. Soon, Tyler was done. He dispatched Max and Maddock to one side of the house and Mick and Lonnie to the other. They’d stay close rather than head out onto our expansive estate. If the killer was coming for me, he had to get past them and into the house first.
Tyler centred his attention on us. “From what Arran tells me, Riordan is acting as close protection, correct?”
Riordan folded his arms and didn’t immediately answer. By any reasonable measure, he was free to go.
Panic clutched at me with tiny, sharp nails. I leapt up and mangled my fingers together, turning to the man I’d called mine. “Can we talk for a minute?”
He followed me outside into the entrance hall.
I spoke before he could. “I know you’re thinking about leaving. Please don’t.”
“Because you’ll be down one highly efficient guard?”
I toed the floor. “Sure.”
His dark eyebrows merged. “I call bullshit.”
“What? It’s one of my reasons.”
“Say something had happened after you’d knocked me out, if Bronson had followed your car and run you off the road. How would I have protected you?”
Well, fuck. “You would have wanted to?”
He gave me a look. It wasn’t hatred. It brought a smile to my face.
I couldn’t contain a little hop. “You’re right. It was thoughtless and impulsive and you’ll let me make it up to ye. I did some research last night that helped me work out that my feelings for ye probably aren’t real. I figured I’m responding to the attraction alone and making it more.”
Something flared in his eyes.
I hitched my breath, fascinated. “You’re attracted to me, too, right?”
The interest sank into a moody glower. In his hand was a water bottle from a pack someone had brought to the table. He popped the cap and took a drink.
“Is that yes?” I summoned every nerve I possessed. “Because I had an idea. To say I’m sorry, how about an apology blow job?”
Riordan choked and spun away, coughing and sputtering.
“What? Ye let Moniqua and ye don’t even like her. I don’t know how and want to learn.”
Tyler exited the great hall. “I’m doing my best not to listen, but the open door is doing nothing to conceal your voices.” He stalked between us then paused to touch a finger to my shoulder. He made a hissing sound. “On fire, kid.”
To Riordan, he added, “You’d better be good to her or a whole army of protective big brothers are ready and waiting to roll in on you.”
He walked away, whistling.
Wincing hard, I shot Riordan an apologetic glance then pounced after Tyler. “Before ye go, there’s something I wanted to ask.”
“Hell no. I don’t want to hear.” He took off down the corridor.
I chased him. “Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s about something else. A woman I need tracking down.”
Tyler stopped. Swung around. The fright left him, and professional seriousness with a deadly edge replaced it. “Is she in trouble?”
I peered back. Riordan was far enough away not to hear me, but I still pitched my voice low. “She’s dead now, so not anymore. It’s my mother I’ve been trying to hunt down. More specifically, anyone who knew her.”
“She was a sex worker.”
Not a question, but I indicated yes.
“Text me what you know. But get upstairs first and hole up in the safety of your rooms.” The blond bear gave me a wolfish grin. “Have fun.”
I padded back to Riordan who’d recovered himself but refused to meet my eye. He followed me upstairs, and with every step I climbed, the more my body warmed. My offer had been a serious one. Banging him could solve multiple problems, my obsession being only one of them.
At the end of the hall, we reached my door. I took the key from my pocket and slid it into the lock, sensing Riordan close behind me. So much that if I just tipped my head back, it would hit his chest.
Momentarily, I shut my eyes, caught up in the tension of how near he was. Then his hand enclosed mine. Helped me turn the key in the lock.
A touch of his skin quickened my pulse.
Riordan swung the door inwards, and I stepped into the apartment. Cautious hope added to the mix of potent need bubbling inside me, and I spun around, walking backwards as he prowled through the space with me, heading for my bedroom.
Inside, the backs of my legs hit my bed, and I sat with a rapid exhale. Nervous. Thrilled. Needing the dark-haired man to lead the way.
From the entryway, with one hand to the frame and the other the door, Riordan looked me over. Then his gaze took in the four corners of the room.
This was it. He’d advance on me. Kiss me. Breathless, I parted my knees to give him space.
Riordan’s dark gaze returned to me. “Try to get some rest.”
What?
He ducked out and closed me in. By the time I’d jumped up and followed, he was at the hall exit, the big gold key in his hand.
“See how you like being the prisoner, wild girl.”
With a smirk, the arsehole slammed the door. A click of the lock followed.
“Hey!” I ran at the door. Thumped it with my fist. “No blow job for ye.”
A dark laugh came from the other side.
“Guess I’m going to have to get busy by myself,” I snarled back.
“I’ll be right out here. I won’t leave you,” Riordan called.
I hoped to hell he was telling the truth.