Chapter Fourteen
Rebecca
The evening passed in a lazy daze of sleeping, bathing, and enjoying a takeout meal.
The twins’ attic section of Rose Cottage consisted of two bedrooms, one living room, a bathroom, and a small functional kitchen. The sloping eaves were lined with dark beams, and skylights let in the sunshine by day and showcased the stars by night.
The furniture was minimal but light and bright, and a cabinet stuffed full of martial art trophies dominated one wall of the living area. A framed photograph of their mother—smiling, plump, gray-haired—was on the wall.
When night came I slept soundly, exhausted from the day, and when I awoke I was in Finn’s arms.
He was sleeping, his mouth slightly parted and his breaths audible.
Smiling, I sat.
Cillian was standing at the one window that wasn’t in the roof and had a view over the back garden. He wore black boxers and held a steaming mug.
“Hey,” I said quietly.
He turned. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah.” I pointed at his mug. “Got any more of that?”
“Sure.”
He walked to the kitchen, his muscles rippling and his abs taut.
Fuck, I’d got lucky.
Carefully, I untangled my arms and legs from Finn and stood. I spotted a black-t-shirt with Fight Fit stamped on the front and dragged it on. It was too big, but I needed to wear something other than just my black thong and the leather padlock necklace.
Finn grunted and turned over. The white sheet was twisted around his legs, so I tugged it up and over him.
Cillian was before me holding a mug of coffee. The delicious scent breezed up to my nostrils.
I took it, and we went in to the living area.
“Sleep okay?” he asked.
“Yes, you?”
“Hell yeah, I can work out at the gym for hours and still not sleep, but sex, great sex like we had yesterday, means I sleep like a baby.”
I giggled. He couldn’t be less like a baby. Dark and brooding, his stubble thick and his voice deep and sexy as fuck.
“What you got on today?” he asked.
The clock on the wall showed nine a.m. “I’m actually on call, starting now,” I said.
“On call?” He frowned.
“Yes. It comes round every six weeks, a Sunday on call.”
“Who needs a lawyer on a Sunday?”
“Luckily, not many people, and I usually don’t get disturbed, but it does mean I’m confined to Oxford today, I need to be available.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of you being available.” He ducked his head and kissed my neck.
I sighed softly. “What are you guys doing today?”
“Apart from fucking you?”
I stroked his hair. “Yeah, apart from that.”
He straightened and smiled. “We’ve got to get going soon, to the gym. There’s a fight on today, it’s only small but its ticketed, so we need to be on site to make sure it runs smoothly.”
“That happen often?”
“A couple of times a month.” He sipped his coffee. “It’s good marketing and good fun, you should come.”
“Mmm.” I gave a non-committal shrug.
“What?”
“I think I might have seen enough kicking and punching yesterday.”
“You didn’t like it?” He appeared concerned.
“I didn’t say that, I guess it just takes a while to desensitize to that kind of thing.”
“I suppose so.” He paused. “So what are you going to do? We haven’t heard from the cops yet, so you shouldn’t go home.”
“I’m safe here, aren’t I? It is a safe house.”
“You are definitely safe here. There’s always at least one of us around and cameras everywhere.”
I frowned. “Even in the girls’ rooms.”
“They can have that if they want, some do, most don’t. The alarm bells are enough, they know they’ll have backup within a minute if shit gets weird.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You in the habit of flogging a woman’s ass like that?”
He chuckled. “No, not that I haven’t done it before, but it’s a fucking treat, and you’ve got the prettiest ass I’ve ever seen.” He ran his hand up my thigh, beneath the t-shirt, and cupped my ass cheek, squeezed it. “Are you sore?”
“No, a little achy, like I’ve done a workout, but not sore.”
“So you’ll be up for kinky fun again sometime?”
“If I think you deserve it.”
He laughed suddenly. “Oh really? If we deserve it.”
“Yeah, really.”
He snapped me close, nearly spilling my coffee. “I have so many dirty thoughts about you, Rebecca, that I’m walking around with a constant hard-on, and I want to make all my fantasies reality, but don’t ever forget, it’s not just your sexy body, it’s you that turns me on. You.”
“Fuck, she turns me on, too, I’ve got a raging boner.” Finn appeared at my side, his cock tenting his boxers. His smile was sleepy and his hair mussed up.
I giggled and accepted his kiss. “Shame to waste it, but you’ve got to get to the gym, Cillian tells me.”
“Ah damn, that’s true.” He frowned at the clock and then poured coffee. “You should get dressed, doll. If we’re leaving soon.”
“No, I’m not coming.”
“I don’t want you out of our sight. There’s a madman on the loose, and he’s set his sights on you.”
“I’ll be fine here. Cillian said there’s always someone around keeping an eye on things.”
Finn frowned at Cillian. “You said that?”
“It’s the truth. And it’s up to Rebecca.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said and then sent a quick prayer heavenward that nothing legal would come in. “I need a chill day before the crazy of work tomorrow. I have a big case to prep for.”
Finn frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. He wasn’t happy about the plan.
“I’ll be fine.” I turned and went to the fridge, surveyed what was there. “Anyone want eggs and bacon? I’ll cook while you get ready.”
“I can get on board with that plan,” Cillian said. “Come on, bro, we got the Morten versus Clay fight going on.”
“Yeah, okay.”
I turned and winked at Finn. “I’ll be fine, promise, and I might even make a cake if you’ve got the ingredients.”
* * * *
My morning passed leisurely. I cooked breakfast and saw my men out of the door, showered, and washed my hair, then browsed their single bookshelf. I scooped up a book about summiting Everest.
I’d just settled down on a comfy chair that was flooded with sunlight when my phone rang. I saw the number and groaned. “Hey, Mary, what’s up?”
“Sorry, Rebecca, you’re on call, right?”
“For my sins.”
“There’s an emergency down at Bullingdon.”
I sighed. “Really?” Bullingdon was the local high-security male prison. “Nothing that can wait until Monday?”
“I tried to fend it off for you, but no, the staff are insisting on legal representation. There’s been some kind of inmate attack, new charges that sound pretty serious.”
“Oh, okay, I’ll get myself down there. What’s the name?”
“Samuel Conner.”
“What’s he in for?”
“You want the entire list?” She huffed.
“Go for it.”
“Pimping, drug dealing, intent to rob, theft, carrying a weapon and—”
“That’ll do, I’ll pull up his file on the way. Thanks, you have a nice day, Mary.”
“You, too, well, once you’ve sorted Mr. Conner out.”
I hung up and nibbled on my bottom lip. This wasn’t a great turn of events, but there was nothing I could do about it. It was work. I had to go.
I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and slipped on my trainers. I left the ‘ownership’ necklace on. I liked its style and what it represented.
After brushing my hair up into a high ponytail, I grabbed a hoody from my case. The prison was always cold, or at least it always gave me the chills.
The house was quiet as I made my way down the stairs. In the kitchen I came across Phil. He sat by the wall of screens, studying a crossword puzzle.
“Where you off to?” he asked without glancing up.
“I have to go into work.”
“You have to stay here, Finn’s orders.”
“Finn doesn’t own me.”
Phil raised his head and gave me a look that screamed: really? His eyes settled on the padlock.
I touched it. Suddenly conscious that he likely knew what it meant.
“I have to go to work, I’m on call.” I spotted a notepad and pen.
“I won’t be long and I’ll write down where I’m going and who I’m seeing.
” I scribbled away. “I’ll get an Uber there and an Uber straight back, and this is my secretary’s number, Mary.
And I’ve got my phone, shouldn’t be more than an hour, two at the most.”
“The twins won’t be happy with either of us.” He set down his pen. “You’re supposed to stay here.”
“I know, I know, I’ll take responsibility, but this is my job, it pays the bills.”
“I hear you there.” He shrugged and picked up his pen again. “Just be really fucking careful, okay. I don’t want your fellas coming at me with nunchucks if anything happens to you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I stepped outside into the gorgeous afternoon. The sun was high, and to my right a group of sparrows were cheeping noisily.
My Uber was efficient, and soon I was winding through the traffic toward the prison. I pinged off a message to Amy, letting her know I was okay and asking how her weekend was going.
Bullingdon was as imposing as any other prison with high dark walls, lots of barbed wire, and a fortified metal gate at the entrance. The Union Jack flag flickered in a slight breeze.
I made myself known and was soon shown through to the detention rooms that were used specifically for inmates and their lawyers. I was glad of my hoody and accepted a coffee from an officer.
“I wouldn’t advise you be alone with him,” the officer said.
“He’s my client.”
“He’s also a violent woman-hater.”
“Fair enough.”
I’d read Conner’s file while I was in the cab. I remembered his case. A colleague had represented him but hadn’t stood much chance in getting him off his two rape charges and aggravated assault. He was serving a sentence of fifteen years minimum.
I went into the cool, shadowed room with the officer close behind me. He then stood by the door, arms folded, expression neutral.
Samuel Conner was handcuffed to a steel table that in turn was cemented into the floor. He let his gaze slip down my body when he saw me, and a slimy lopsided grin tugged at his mouth.
A shudder went up my spine, and I didn’t try to hide it.
“Looking good,” he said, drawing out the word good. “Real sexy.”