Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Leith
I spend the whole day with Iona. From our house in Lenzie we ride our bikes up to Stirling and back.
In Stirling, we visit the medieval Church of the Holy Rood and Stirling Castle.
We take pictures of Robert the Bruce and the battlefield at Bannockburn before riding into the town center, where a busker performs a one-man rendition of Van Halen’s Ice Cream Man.
After lunch, we head back, stopping at a dairy farm near Bonnybridge, where we eat soft-serve ice cream while blethering with tourists from Barcelona, Copenhagen, and New Mexico.
But as in London, the best moments are when we talk and kiss. Bikes are all well and good, but they don’t allow me enough of a chance to touch her. When we stop and sit under a tree by the edge of a burn, I wrap an arm around her and pull her into my chest.
“You’re pregnant, wee Flame.”
She never told me the result of the test, but I know.
She looks up, bemused. “How did you know?”
“Even after a day of being held hostage without food, water, or sleep, you’re still strong, beautiful, and unstoppable.
Your wounds are healing faster than usual, which suggests you have increased blood flow and elevated hormone levels.
And you’ve used the loo every time we spotted one.
” I push her hair behind her shoulder. “How do you feel about it?”
“Stunned, nervous, excited.” Her lips kick up in a gratified smile. “It’s hard to believe a wee being is inside me.” She traces my cheekbone with two fingers. “Something tells me you’re pleased.”
“Fucking right I am.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a black box, placing it in her hand. “I’ve dreamt of you carrying my baby since I first set eyes on you. This is going to be the bonniest, happiest, most spoilt baby in the history of bairns.”
“What’s this?” She cracks open the box and gasps.
I lift out the choker necklace and unclasp it. “The collar you’ll wear everywhere.”
I draw her hair to one side and fasten the choker at her nape. She looks unspeakably gorgeous, her peaches and cream skin a dramatic backdrop to the black of the necklace.
“It’s breathtaking, Leith.” She fingers the gold jet and diamond pendant. “Is this what I get for being an expectant mother?”
“It’s what you get for being mine.”
“Does it have a lock?”
I show her the small key. “The leather one will be for scenes at home. This is for the rest of the time.”
She cups my cheek, lifting her face to mine. Unable to hold back, I press my lips to hers, teasing her tongue in a slow, sensual kiss.
Since my wife is irresistible, I don’t see the point in resisting her any longer.
* * *
That evening I lay out a sheer body-hugging halter-neck floor-length cocktail dress that shades from plum to midnight blue to cerulean with a high thigh slit.
No sooner has Iona donned it than I want to rip it off her.
It emphasizes her shapely arse, V-back, square shoulders, and graceful neck.
She looks even more edible in this than in the last dress I picked out for her.
At Banyan, Diran kisses her cheek and gives me a bro hug. “Tonight we’re celebrating you both.” At my surprised look he clarifies. “Iona cheated death, and you’ve accomplished the impossible—bringing down the COPFS.”
When Diran’s wife Nandag and Callum’s wife Eiluned take Iona off to chat, drink, and have appetizers, Diran takes me to the bar, where the oldest bottle of whisky Banyan has stands waiting. A 1975 Ardbeg, it has a legendary spicy, peaty taste.
Diran brushes his thumb over the aging label. “We haven’t dipped into this since Nandag gave birth to Declan—thirty-three years ago. It’s time to dust it off and have another dram.”
I chuckle. “Remind me to not-win a case more often.”
He slaps a palm on my back. “It doesn’t matter how you got the list back. I promised you twenty million if you could, and you did.” He stoops and picks up an attaché case, setting it on the bar. “Twenty million in cash.”
I clink glasses with him. “Thanks.”
His features pull together in a somber expression.
“And I owe you an apology. I doubted you, though I never should’ve.
I felt pressure from those who’ve gone down to Birmingham, Manchester, and Liverpool to spread our organization, and I felt pressure from Darian.
But I should’ve known you’re as solid as they come.
” He tilts his head, turning his glass around. “Why did Iona say those things?”
He’s concerned she’s not loyal to me.
“Galiene was blackmailing her and instructing her to say it all.” I take a sip of the rich, aged single malt. “Galiene was in league with the COPFS.”
Diran shakes his head. “I had the feeling it was something like that. How are you gaun to punish Galiene?”
“Iona has a fitting correction in mind.” I look across at my glowing wife, who’s laughing at something Eiluned has said. The mere sight of her teeth flashing and her eyes sparkling makes my dick harden in my slacks.
“How about Leavy?”
My grip tightens on the whisky glass. “I’m gaun to flay him alive in bits and pieces, starting tomorrow and going all the way to Iona’s birthday on the eighteenth of August. As her present I’ll gift her his expired body.”
A grin slashes Diran’s face. “Which bits and pieces are you starting with?”
“His thighs.” I plan to cut his dick off somewhere along the way and present that to Iona in a box as a bonus gift.
A pleased laugh rumbles in Diran’s belly. “You were born for this life. Are you sure you don’t want to try for boss? I’d personally endorse you.”
I think of our unborn wean?2 and shake my head. “I’m a family man from now on. I’ll be cutting back hours from work as it is, so I can spend more time with Iona.”
Diran, passes a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “We need to find a way to reconcile Darian to you. He’s convinced you’re after his spot, as he thinks of it.”
I watch the barman fill his ice chest. “In the coming days I’ll figure out how to bridge our distance. So far his bark has been worse than his bite.”
Diran studies me closely. “I can read your thoughts, son. You long to be with your wife again.”
I smile. “Am I that obvious?”
“You may be a lawyer and therefore good at concealing your emotions. But you’re still human.” He jerks his chin toward Iona. “Go to her.”
If he could read my thoughts fully, he’d see filthy scenes unfolding. I plan to treat my wee Scheherazade to some depraved acts later, while she’s still wearing her dress.
I smile to myself as I stride toward her, meeting her eye. My look says, You may be smoking hot in that dress, but I’m the man who gets to rip it off of you later.
Her answering look says, That’s the only reason I’m wearing it.
* * *
While it was nice taking a day off to be with Iona, on Tuesday serious matters call.
In a cell devoted to Leavy, I take a dull knife and flay the skin off his thighs to the sound of his blood-curdling screams, which I record for Iona’s benefit.
It’s all part of my birthday gift to her, though of course I’ll have another, socially acceptable gift for her party.
Draven collects the blood and disinfects the edges of the wounds after I’ve cut off the wedges of skin.
Leaving Leavy to sob and mourn the loss of his flesh, I pass on to another room, where a naked Pirie awaits, chained to the ceiling so his bound ankles are inches off the floor.
Declan records a video as I slam my fist into Pirie’s face over and over.
As I think of what he did to Grizel and how he caused Aaron’s death, I pound him even harder.
I have the feeling Grizel will find peace from viewing this footage.
I don’t stop till Pirie is out for good, having made sure he won’t assault any more women.
Next I turn to Dalziel and Finn, whom Declan has strung up naked on St. Andrew’s crosses in a room at the end of the corridor. I’m grateful Declan agreed to this, since he clearly uses this room for more pleasurable pursuits.
Placing a hay bail behind Dalziel, I stand back thirty feet and proceed to shoot bullet after bullet just around his body but not into it.
With each shot he tenses, flinches, and sometimes passes out from the stress.
He never knows if any shot may be the last one.
When I’ve buried thirty-some rounds in the hay and he’s still alive, I circle him at a close range.
“Do you think your luck will last forever, Dalziel?” I dig the barrel of the gun into his jaw from below. “Do you have so much confidence in my shooting skills?”
He trembles, unsure of how to answer. “I-I don’t know.”
I step back, keeping my eyes on his. “Let’s find out.”
Standing back thirty feet, I shoot him right between the eyes, and he dies instantly.
Finn whimpers on the nearby cross.
I turn to Declan. “Dec, you want to do the honors?”
Declan is good with a knife. Smiling he reaches into his waistband and pulls out a dagger. “I thought you’d never ask.”
For the next ten minutes I watch him throw knives at Finn and land them perfectly in the pads of the cross or the hay bail we’ve dragged behind him.
Finn cringes, whines, and cries copious tears, pleading to us to show him mercy. As if anyone who held my wee Flame captive could be acquainted with that term.
Finally, I take the dagger from Declan. “My turn.”
Standing twenty feet away, I throw it into his heart, and he bleeds out in seconds.
I lick my lips. “I’ll have to devise the right punishment for Palmer and, eventually, Irving.”
Declan’s eyes flare. “We can send a subtle, torturous warning to Palmer. As for Irving, once he’s done expending all his energy trying to tear you apart, he’s all yours.”
I cock him a wry smile. “I look forward to it.”
“How are you handling Kirkaldy?”
“Malcolm has a vat of boiling pitch with Kirkaldy’s name on it. I can lower him slowly into it.”
Declan cracks his knuckles. “If you want help catching him, I’d be glad to lend a hand.”
“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”
* * *