25. Murray #2
Aodhan appeared at the table, his English mastiff, Shakespeare, at his side. Shakespeare sniffed curiously at the air near Akiva. The Alaskan malamute narrowed her eyes as if in warning and Shakespeare comically jerked his gaze away as if to say, I’m minding my own business over here.
Aodhan chuckled at the doggy exchange. “You’ve raised that one to be as aloof as she is bonny.”
Ramsay shrugged, reaching down to stroke Akiva’s fur.
Unbothered, Aodhan turned to me and London, beaming at us. “I just came over to offer my congratulations. You make a fine pair.”
“Thank you.” I slid my arm around London’s shoulders and was relieved when she leaned into me.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Aye, a bonny pair indeed.” Aodhan nodded. “Happy for you, Murray.”
Emotion tightened my throat. I’d known Aodhan Macduff my whole life and I’d looked up to him. He knew exactly the kind of bastard my father was and the trials Jill had put me through. To see his genuine joy for me filled me with gratitude and guilt for lying.
More than that, I wished that London really was the light at the end of the tunnel and not just another business deal.
She felt right in my arms.
Looking down at her, I recognized her own guilt and uncertainty. The impulse to soothe her just happened to coincide with our need to present a united front. Kissing her again didn’t seem to be the right thing to do, so I pressed my lips to her temple, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.
Her soft hair tickled my cheek, the scent of her shampoo so enthralling I lingered against her far longer than I should. Her hair smelled like some kind of exotic flower with a hint of coconut. I could bury my face in the silky strands and stay there forever.
When I pulled back, I couldn’t help but murmur, “Your hair smells amazing.”
London let out a wee laugh of surprise as I released her from my hold. “My one little luxury. It’s this expensive shampoo and conditioner that stops my hair from frizzing. Natural redhead.” She shrugged almost shyly.
“I like it,” I offered gruffly, looking at my pint so she didn’t recognize the desire thrumming through every inch of me.
“Well, I’ll leave you all be.” Aodhan gestured to the bar. “Remember to order more drinks.”
We chuckled as the older man wandered off with Shakespeare to a table in the corner where some of the older members of the island community sat together.
“Do you think that will be us in thirty years’ time?” Cammie asked.
“I hope so.” Tierney leaned into Ramsay. “I don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”
I glanced at London, wondering if she’d feel the same way in ten years’ time.
“Hey, did anyone else catch the news tonight?” Cammie inquired.
We all shook our heads.
She grimaced. “Britain has a new serial killer.”
Taran leaned in. “Where?”
“That’s the thing. They think this person has been active for four years, but they’ve been committing murders all over the country, so it’s taken them awhile to piece it together. They think the first one was committed just outside Aberdeen.”
A somber mood fell over us at the disquieting news.
Cammie grimaced. “The police in Newcastle finally put together that all of these murders have the same MO.”
Forde pulled out his phone and typed into it with speedy thumbs. “Shit, Cam’s right.”
“Did you think I was lying?”
Ignoring her, Forde read out the article.
Five women had been murdered over the course of the last four years.
Two of them in this year alone, and it wasn’t even summer yet, so the police were worried the situation was escalating.
The women ranged between the ages of eighteen and forty years old and the police said they were of a similar coloring and build.
Forde read out the few details that had been published regarding their violent deaths, and I shuddered to think of the sick mind that could commit such atrocities.
“Chilling.” Tierney was wide-eyed. “I think of serial killers being a domain of the US, not the UK.”
“We’ve had our share,” Ramsay muttered. “But they’re rare. Though … we did have one a few years back. A copycat killer. He copied a serial killer from a TV show. Even targeted the screenwriter’s girlfriend.”
“I remember that.” Cammie gaped. “That wasn’t that long ago. What the bloody hell is happening to the world?”
Silence fell over the table until finally Forde spoke. “Well, this is a fucking depressing conversation.”
“Does everything have to be all sunshine and roses?” Cammie crossed her arms over her chest, tone defensive.
I’d noted a cooling in their friendship over the past year, and it didn’t seem to be getting any warmer. Though I was curious what had caused the rift, it was none of my business, and I had a lot of my own business to concern myself with.
“Apparently not when you’re around.” Forde flashed her a feral grin.
“One of these days, someone is going to ram one of your drumsticks where the sun doesn’t shine,” Cammie snapped.
“One can only hope.”
I covered a snort of laughter with my fist, pretending to cough, and I heard London’s breathy hitch at my side. A quick glance revealed the corners of her mouth twitching desperately against a laugh.
Cammie narrowed her eyes. “Ass play? Really?”
I coughed even harder as Quinn let out an expletive and squeezed his eyes shut, clearly in pain at the sound of those words leaving his wee sister’s mouth.
“You shouldn’t judge people for their kinks just because you’re a vanilla sort of person,” Forde needled her.
“This conversation must cease,” Quinn commanded, making Taran giggle.
“Father has spoken.” Forde pretended to zip his mouth.
“Oh, and of course, whatever Quinn says and does goes, right?” Cammie sneered.
Taran waved a hand across the table. “Okay, enough. I sense this devolving past some lighthearted banter. Boys,” she addressed the band, “you have to take care of Quinn in a few weeks’ time.
I’m taking the girls bridal dress shopping for the weekend in Glasgow.
Quinn won’t ask so I’m asking. Please plan a Quinn-appropriate stag do. ”
We all looked at Forde expectantly.
He sat back in his chair. “I take it I’m in charge of that, then?”
“You are his best friend,” Cammie reminded him.
“We’re all his best friend.”
“Aye, but you’re the only one who hasn’t settled down yet and still enjoys partying.”
Forde glowered at Cammie. “When was the last time I partied? I don’t have fucking time to party, Cameron. I work my arse off.”
“And yet you still have time to play the risky game of ‘Will I Catch an STI This Week?’”
Taran threw her hands in the air and slumped back in her seat. “I give up!”
As my friends tried to divert the conversation back onto friendlier grounds, I studied London’s profile as she followed the conversation, her eyes narrowing and widening, her lips parting and curling at the corners.
Longing filled my entire fucking being as I watched the play of emotions over her bonny face.
I knew I had to be good, not just for her sake but because life was already so complicated.
Throwing back the last of my NA ale, I stood abruptly, needing space from her as soon as possible so I didn’t give into my baser urges.
London gaped as the table grew silent.
Trying not to appear as sheepish or embarrassed as I felt by my lack of control, I explained, “We have to get back for Kelly. Mum will be wondering where we are. Or … you can stay if you want.”
London studied me for a second and then slowly stood. “Let’s head home.”
Of course, I’d wanted her to stay.
Instead, I had to endure the torturous fifteen-minute drive home in utter silence because I was afraid of what I might reveal if I spoke.
Mum and Kelly were asleep on the couch in the living room, so I turned off the telly and covered them with blankets.
Outside in the hall, I whispered a good night to London who stood uncertainly outside her bedroom door.
The impulse to press her against it and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe was so strong, I had to force my feet in the opposite direction.
Hurrying downstairs, I marched into my bedroom and closed the door firmly behind me.
“Fuck,” I muttered, hot blood thrumming through me.
I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend I didn’t want my wife.