Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CAT
My flat feels unnaturally quiet as I pace around and check my phone for the hundredth time. The newly painted walls of the living room gleam pristine white in the evening light.
Where is he? It’s been well over an hour since he left to confront Drew.
I’ve tried distracting myself with lesson planning, but my mind keeps circling back to Robbie. To the way he told me about the stories etched into his skin, a rare flash of vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. To how it felt when he was inside me, his body moving against mine... and then afterwards, when we lay together, my head resting on his chest...
Christ, I’ve got it bad.
The growl of a motorcycle cuts through my thoughts. I rush to the window in time to see Robbie pulling up on the street below. My heart does a wee flip at the sight of him climbing off his bike.
My front door is wide open before I even hear his boots on the stairs. “Well?” I demand when he comes into view, not bothering with hello.
He smiles—not a full grin, but a definite upward tilt of his lips that transforms his usually stern face. “We were right,” he says, stepping in and shrugging off his leather jacket. He hangs it on a hook by the door, one of a few he recently installed for me. “Drew is sleeping with Samantha.”
I bounce on my toes, my fingers itching to grab his collar and pull him in for a kiss, but I resist. “What else did he say? Do you think he was involved in the thefts?”
“I doubt it. He seemed genuinely shocked when I asked him about them. But he did say Samantha’s been acting strange lately—fidgety and on edge. And she made a mysterious trip to Inverness she wouldn’t explain.”
“That’s suspicious as hell. C’mon, let’s go through to my bedroom.” My eyes widen when I realise how that sounds. “I mean, so we can talk more! The living room still smells of paint, and my bed is more comfortable than the kitchen chairs. I wasn’t meaning we have to... you know...”
Robbie’s lips twitch. “Shame. Thought I told you to be wet and ready for me?”
My cheeks flush, which is ridiculous considering what we were doing against the bathroom wall just hours ago. For once, I don’t have a comeback. Instead I lead him through and perch on the edge of my bed. Robbie joins me, the mattress dipping under his weight, which slides me a little closer to him.
“So, what now?” I ask, trying to sound casual despite our thighs nearly touching.
“Now we focus on Samantha. Drew’s going to keep an eye on her and let me know if he notices anything else unusual.”
“Sounds like a plan. You sure you can trust him?”
“I think so, aye.”
I nod. “Good. We’re getting closer. I can feel it.”
He turns to look at me properly, those blue eyes of his intense. “Thanks to you.”
“Me? I just broke into an office and hid under a desk while two people shagged on top of it. Hardly Sherlock Holmes material.”
“You and David stuck your necks out for me when no one else would. That counts for something.”
My chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice. “Well, I’d say this calls for a celebration, wouldn’t you?”
“What did you have in mind, McIntyre?”
I lean closer to him, giving him plenty of time to pull away if he wants to. He doesn’t. Instead, he meets me halfway, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns hungry.
I shift closer, swinging one leg over his lap and straddling him. His hands grip my hips, his fingers digging in possessively. The kiss deepens, his tongue tangling with mine, drawing a needy sound from my throat. When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“You do things to me,” Robbie murmurs, dipping his head and nuzzling my neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against my skin. “Things no other woman has.”
“Like what?” I can’t help asking, even as I tilt my head to give him better access.
His hands slide under my top, rough palms skimming over my ribs. “Like... you make me lose control.” He nips at my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine. “But also... you make me want more than just to fuck you.”
Coming from Robbie MacDonald, that’s practically a declaration of love.
I rock against him, loving the feel of the hard bulge in his jeans against the thin material of my leggings. “But... you do want to fuck me. I can feel it. So fuck me.”
In one fluid motion, Robbie shifts our positions, laying me on the bed and covering my body with his. I wrap my legs around him, and he kisses me deeply, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His hands are everywhere—threading through my hair, tracing the curve of my hip, squeezing just hard enough to make me gasp into his mouth.
I slide my hands under his T-shirt and explore the hot skin stretched tight over muscle. Then I tug his top up, and he lifts away from me so I can pull it over his head.
I drink in the sight of him, all tattoos and coiled power. My fingers reach for his belt buckle, but he catches my wrist.
“Not so fast. I want to savour you this time.”
He tugs my top off then makes quick work of my bra. His eyes roam over me with an intensity that has me wriggling beneath him.
“You’re gorgeous,” he says roughly.
Before I can respond, his mouth is on my left breast, hot and demanding. I arch into him, one hand splaying across the nape of his neck to hold him closer. Every swipe of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure straight to my core.
Robbie works his way down my body, kissing and nipping as he goes, his tongue dipping into my belly button. By the time he drags down my leggings, along with my underwear, I’m practically vibrating with need.
“Please,” I whisper, not caring how desperate I sound.
He stands to remove his jeans, and I take a moment to appreciate the magnificent sight of him, all hard lines and raw masculinity. Then he leans over me again, positions himself at my entrance, and pushes in, just the pierced tip, tormenting me with these shallow thrusts that have me digging my nails into his shoulders in frustration.
“Robbie,” I moan, “stop teasing!”
With a wicked grin, he finally pushes all the way in, filling me completely. I cry out, loud enough that Mrs Innes next door will definitely be giving me knowing looks tomorrow.
He sets a punishing rhythm, the headboard thudding against the wall in time with his thrusts. But then, through the noise, another thumping joins in, insistent and coming from elsewhere.
“Fuck,” Robbie grunts, slowing his movements. “Is that?—”
The thumping gets even louder. Someone’s knocking on my front door.
“Ignore it,” I pant, trying to pull him back to me.
But Robbie is already withdrawing. “I don’t know, Cat. Whoever that is, they really want to?—”
“Police! Open up!”
For a heartbeat, we stare at each other in horror. Then we’re scrambling for our clothes.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter as I yank on my knickers, top, and leggings.
I’m ready first, and I hurry to the door while Robbie tugs up his fly. I take a deep breath, try to smooth my sex-tousled hair into something resembling normalcy, then open the door to find two police officers standing on the other side. One is DS Gordon Sinclair, a stocky, greying man with the weathered face of someone who’s seen it all. The other I don’t know. She’s a tall woman, a few years older than me, with sharp green eyes and a no-nonsense expression.
“Evening, Cat,” Sinclair says with a curt nod. “It’s been a while. I don’t know if you’ve met PC Ailsa Muir?” He gestures to the younger officer beside him. “We’re looking for Robert MacDonald. Is he here?”
“He hasn’t done anything wrong!” The words just burst out of me.
Sinclair’s expression doesn’t change. “We have evidence linking him to thefts at the Glen Garve Resort.”
I shake my head. “No, he’s innocent.”
Robbie appears behind me. “I didn’t steal anything,” he says firmly. “You’ve got the wrong person.”
“It’s Samantha Drummond you want,” I add, desperation creeping into my voice. “She’s the one who framed him.”
Sinclair sighs, looking almost regretful. “Robbie, you’ll have the opportunity to tell your side of the story at the station. For now, I need you to come with us.”
“You can’t be serious,” I protest.
But Sinclair nods to Muir, who steps forwards with handcuffs.
“Robert MacDonald,” she says formally, “I am arresting you on suspicion of theft. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
She cuffs Robbie’s wrists behind his back. His jaw tightens, the only sign this is affecting him.
“Never thought I’d have to bring you in again, Robbie,” Sinclair says. “Thought you’d turned a corner.”
Robbie meets his gaze steadily. “I did. I didn’t do what you’re accusing me of.”
There’s history between the pair. Sinclair has been in the police for as long as I can remember, and although Robbie is innocent of this, his reputation wasn’t built on nothing. There was a time when Robbie kept Sinclair rather busy.
“Let’s go.” Sinclair gestures towards the stairs.
I trail after them, numb, my mind whirring uselessly. They’re actually taking him away, and there’s nothing I can do but watch.
When we step out onto Main Street, my heart drops even further. Typical Bannock—news here travels faster than rain clouds over Ben Nevis. Someone must’ve clocked the police car, and now a wee knot of people has gathered outside the Pheasant, necks craning for a better view.
“He’s innocent!” I shout, loud and unashamed. “He’s been set up!”
But my words fall on deaf ears. I catch snippets of conversation as people whisper away to each other.
“Always knew he’d land himself in bother again.”
“Once a troublemaker, always a troublemaker.”
“Remember when he smashed up that bus shelter?”
“I heard he used to take part in illegal fights in Inverness. Nearly killed a man once.”
Robbie keeps his head high and his gaze fixed straight ahead as Sinclair guides him towards the waiting car. But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clench into fists behind his back.
“You’ve got the wrong person!” I try again, my voice cracking with desperation. “He didn’t do this!”
This outburst earns me some withering looks and a chorus of tuts. Mrs Fraser, whose son is in my S2 English class, approaches and lays her hand on my arm, all pity and pursed lips.
“Catriona, as a teacher at the high school, you may want to think twice about associating yourself with someone like Robbie MacDonald. It doesn’t send the right message.”
I jerk away from her touch. “You don’t know him. None of you do!”
But it’s too late. The car door slams shut on Robbie, then Sinclair slides into the driver’s seat and the car pulls away. I’m left behind, feeling completely powerless. Was all our detective work for nothing?
The crowd begins to disperse, their entertainment over for the evening. A few people cast sympathetic glances my way, but most just shake their heads, like I’m nothing more than some daft girl who’s been taken in by Bannock’s notorious bad boy.
“Ach well, leopards never change their spots,” someone says.
I’m about to round on them when a familiar voice calls my name. Turning, I see Maisie and Jamie coming over. Without a word, Maisie wraps me in a hug, and that’s when something inside me snaps and tears finally break free.
“They’ve taken him,” I sob into her shoulder. “They think he stole those things, but he didn’t. No one believes us.”
Jamie clears his throat awkwardly. “Well... I believe you.” When I look up at him, surprised, he shrugs. “Robbie saved my life. The least I can do is give him the benefit of the doubt, right? Besides, if you believe he’s innocent... well, that’s good enough for me.”
His unexpected support means more than I can say. I wipe at my tears.
“Come on,” Maisie says. “Let’s get you inside and figure out what to do next.”
As they lead me back towards my flat, I cast one last look in the direction the police car disappeared. I won’t give up on Robbie. I just won’t.