Chapter 21 #2
Could Leith and I ever have what Lachlan and Skye have? Can what started off on such a bad foot ever be set right?
* * *
Leith
I needed to think on my own today, so I went for a run before my gym workout.
Now I’m sitting in my study devising arguments for the Lowing case.
Steering clear of the one claim the Procurator Fiscal counts on my making—that the Syndicate is a legal entity—I focus on the notion that the list is stolen property.
The COPFS knows it possesses stolen property, controls said property, and has no intention of returning it to its rightful owner.
I’m in the middle of looking up precedents for various claims when my phone buzzes with an incoming call.
“Leith Cargill.” I lean back in my chair.
“Leith, it’s Darro, the warden in Barlinnie.
” His scratchy voice reminds me of the days when I used to bribe him to watch over Aaron and make sure he got whatever he needed.
“Kirkaldy will be out on parole on Wednesday morning. The Parole Board considered Aaron’s murder provoked and therefore self-defense. ”
I clench my fist, inwardly raging and unable to speak. Kirkaldy is going to be rewarded for killing my best friend.
Darro goes on. “If you want to find him, he’ll be biding with his cousin in Bridgeton. I can text you the address from his file.”
“Thanks.” I grind my teeth to a fine powder, thinking of ways to do away with Kirkaldy.
When we’ve rung off, I shoot to my feet, pacing the study. Stabbing is too good for him, and shooting is too easy. Something along the lines of a slow poison and torture better fits him. Or strangling.
At the very least I’ll beat him up before killing him. And I’ll do it as soon as he steps out of his door on Wednesday.
* * *
Iona
I’m running down a long, narrow corridor, the sound of my heels echoing off the concrete walls.
My attacker chases me in heavy boots, and a knife goes flying by me, narrowly missing my ear.
My heart floors the accelerator. The faster I try to sprint, the slower I go, as if I’m fighting through quicksand.
Grizel’s muffled cries float to me from a side corridor, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
I scream, “Help!”
A hand claps over my mouth, and a strong body tackles me to the floor, slamming my head into the concrete. The knife is only six feet away, but I can’t roll free of the heavy weight on top of me enough to grab it.
A hand goes around my throat and starts strangling the life out of me. And all around is the sickly yellow hue of the air before a thunderstorm in high summer.
* * *
I jerk awake, sweating and short of breath. Rolling over, I find Leith looking at me with concern.
He brushes hair off my damp forehead. “What were you dreaming about?”
“An endless version of That Night. My assaulter was chasing me, and Grizel was somewhere nearby being chased by her assailant.” A shiver rockets through me. “He threw a knife at me, but I couldn’t reach the knife as he strangled me.”
In the first light of dawn his eyes darken. “Whoever tries to touch you again is a dead man. And when I find who did this to you, the world won’t be large enow for him to hide or cover his screams.”
His tone is so vehement and his touch so tender, a gratified frisson steals over me.
As he pulls me on top of him, I almost blurt out everything about Galiene, the burner phone, and Diran.
The secret weighs more heavily on me with each passing day.
Here he is swearing to protect me and punish my assailant, and I’m leaking secrets about him that may not be true and are certainly detrimental to him.
As he positions me over his rigid girth and slams me down, I cry out, palming his hard pecs. “Leith!”
“Work for it, wee wife.”
I ride his cock like a bull, arching my back while stealing keeks at his chiseled jawline and stunning cheekbones. He’s never so fatally attractive as when he’s in the throes of desire. His heavy-lidded gaze sears me, and his full lips tempt me to lean over and kiss them.
If I trust him enough to confide in him, will he do the same with me?
I decide to test the waters before spilling my secrets. “Will you let me off of house arrest and stop blackmailing me?”
He grasps my hips and brings me down onto his shaft, thrusting up into me. “No, Flame.”
“Why not?” I moan as he speeds up the pace of his strokes, taking over so I’m just along for the ride.
His jaw tightens. “You still have to pay your debt for Aaron’s death.”
I think of what Galiene holds over me and flinch. Will it ever be safe for me to divulge her blackmail? For now I’m glad I said nothing.
I feel the impending storm within and throw my head back.
Leith digs his fingers into my hips. “Come for me, Scheherazade.”
As the storm breaks, I’m awash with pleasure, screaming and contracting around him. I forget all about our divisions as we become one in our bliss.
* * *
It’s Tuesday evening, and Leith has surpassed himself with my dress.
A deep boysenberry, it brings out the burgundy in my hair.
It’s a silk ankle-length gown with a high thigh slit and a sexy cowl neck, so sultry and elegant it takes my breath away.
I turn around, twisting to look at my backside in the mirror.
Leith steps behind me, palming a buttock. “Your arse is as tidy a sight as I’ve beheld.”
My cheeks heat. “The dress emphasizes it.”
“Aye. That it does,” he murmurs with approval.
I dread what I have to do this evening, feeling certain something bad is about to happen and lamenting my ignorance.
Half an hour later, Draven drops us at the bar-restaurant, which Leith says belongs to Darian. Darian and Diran are waiting for us at the bar, a bottle of whisky before them. The barman pours out drams, and we clink glasses.
As usual, Diran wants a summary of the developments on the Lowing case. Leith updates him, and once more Diran asks Leith to make a call for him that requires Leith to leave for a few minutes.
When he’s gone, Diran refills my glass. “Tell me, Iona, what’s gaun on behind the scenes of the Lowing case?”
I cross my fingers under the table. Please don’t let this harm Leith. Taking a deep breath, I drop the bomb from my phone. “Leith has been planning to strike a plea negotiation with the COPFS whereby they take the Lowing list but let the Syndicate keep on operating.”
Diran’s brow lours. “Let us keep on operating?”
Darian explodes. “Since when do we need permission from the COPFS to fucking operate?”
“So he’s forfeiting the list without a fight.” Diran exchanges a forbidding glare with Darian. “Why did we hire him then?”
“He’s too preoccupied with avenging his dead friend,” Darian grunts. “Where Aaron is concerned, Leith is hot-blooded enow to do something glaikit and detrimental to the Syndicate. I can prove it to you.”
Diran nods. “Prove it, Dar.”
I can’t keep up with the twists and turns of this conversation, though I want to protest that it’s a lie. Leith is far less hot-blooded than Darian. A minute later Leith returns, his gaze skipping from Darian to Diran.
“What did I miss?” He pours more whisky in his glass.
“I was exposing you as the overextended, distracted lawyer you are.” Darian glances at his watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”
Soon after, Diran leaves us to go attend a function. Leith reaches out a foot and snags the base of my stool, dragging it closer. Heat rushes to my groin, and my skin tingles with awareness.
His hot breath fans my ear. “You look ravishing, Mrs. Cargill. May I have this dance?”
Before I can answer, he hooks my waist and sweeps me over to an empty spot on the floor as the opening chords of Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger sound.
My heart kicks into overdrive, and flutterings erupt in my belly.
I’m instantly swooped up in his princely spell.
He leads with the decisiveness and aggression that he kisses and makes love with. Every step lights my soul on fire.
We don’t speak, but his slate-grey eyes speak volumes. They declare I’m his, no man gets to touch me, and he’ll protect me to the death.
Have I failed to protect him?