Aftermath (Dividing Line #6) (10 page)

“I knew you’d drive a hard bargain,” said Thane. “As an added incentive I’ll give you a ten percent stake in the distillery and all the free whisky you can drink.”

“We’d want to see your accounts and business plan first, just to make sure we’re not going to invest in a failure,” said Ryan.

“Naturally,” Thane replied confidently. “I have the business plan all drawn up.”

“You do know they live in Devon?” said Cathy. “Wouldn’t it be better to have someone more local invest?”

“He wants investors who won’t be constantly poking their noses in, don’t you Your Lordship?” said Ryan, reclining back in his chair and steepling his fingers together. “It’s hard to be much of a nuisance when you’re six hundred miles away.”

“You’ve got me there. So, what do you say?”

Ryan looked to Rachel.

“There’s no harm in taking a look,” she said.

“I’ll arrange that after dinner,” said Thane looking more cheerful. “First of all, let’s eat.”

Rachel glanced down the table at Ryan and smiled, whose only response was a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a sound business plan,” said Rachel, the proposal Thane had given them spread out around her on the big four poster bed.

“From that skirted dimwit,” sniffed Ryan, removing his shirt and carefully hanging it over the back of a chair.

“For the fifth time it’s a kilt not a skirt and he’s not dim. This proposal could be a winner.”

“Why do we want to be in business all the way up here?”

“Because it’s something different. A stake in a castle estate, we’ve got nothing like that.” The papers before her were temporarily forgotten when she looked up from them to see Ryan removing his trousers, which joined the shirt over the back of the chair. Forty was behind him now but he kept himself in tiptop shape with regular workouts in the gym and swimming pool. The man was sheer magnificence and Rachel revelled in the delicious knowledge that he was all hers.

He stood tall and proud before her and cocked his head. “Why are you staring at me?”

“It’s one of my favourite things to do.”

“And why’s that?” he said, slowly approaching the bed.

“Because you’re gorgeous.”

“More so than Rob Roy?”

“Oh yes,” she purred, her inner muscles clenching tighter the closer he got.

He rested his hands on the bed and bent over to kiss her. “I’m glad he didn’t turn your head.”

“How can any man do that when I can’t take my eyes off you?”

The force of his kiss pushed her onto her back, his hand fisting in her hair.

“My Rachel,” he growled in her ear. “No one else’s.”

“Always yours,” she smiled up at him. “Now can we discuss this proposal?”

“I’ve got a better proposal for you,” he said, grinding against her.

“I’m certain you have but can we decide on this one first?”

He sighed and released her and they sat up together on the bed to discuss it. After an hour of wrangling and studying the fine print Ryan was forced to admit it was a good idea.

“It’ll mean we have to have regular contact with that arsehole,” he said.

“He’s not an arsehole. If he hadn’t flirted with me you’d have got on with him. You’re quite alike.”

“How dare you.”

“You would and just think, our own castle to run to when we want to get away from it all. That could come in useful.”

“You do have a point. I just wish it had a drawbridge and a moat.”

“A stake in a distillery too. You love whisky. We could use our contacts to promote it, stock a range in our bars and hotels.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Good thinking. I like it.”

“So, shall we go for it?”

“As long as the tour of the premises tomorrow morning doesn’t throw up any nasty surprises and our solicitor doesn’t find anything wrong with the contract then okay, go on then.”

“Yes,” cried Rachel, pushing him onto his back and straddling him, the papers crinkling under his back.

It gave Ryan added pleasure to have sex on Thane’s business plan.

CHAPTER 12

“Mummy, Daddy,” cried Ethan, racing up to them the moment they came through the door of Rick and Gill’s cottage back home in Devon.

“Hey little man, I missed you,” said Rachel, picking him up and cuddling him.

Leah and Aaron threw themselves at them too and Rick and Gill watched their joyful reunion with smiles.

As he watched his happy, healthy daughter with her children tears prickled Rick’s eyes. Often he had nightmares about her lying in a coffin, blood leaking from her neck and it was such a relief when he woke and remembered she was alive and well.

Rachel caught him watching her and the look she gave him said she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Hi Dad, thanks for looking after them,” she said, embracing him.

“They were no problem, good as gold,” he said holding onto her, revelling in how warm and vibrant she was.

“We brought you a present,” she said, handing him a bottle of scotch while Ryan gave Gill a tartan scarf. “It’s straight from the castle Dad, the estate makes their own.”

“Lovely, I’ll look forward to a tipple tonight,” said Rick. His smile faltered. “How did the wedding go?”

“It was lovely, we had a great time.”

“And everything went smoothly?” he said meaningfully.

“Very. We had a brilliant weekend, didn’t we Ryan?”

“Yes, apart from the Laird trying to chat up Rachel.”

“Did he?” grinned Gill. “What was he like?”

“He was an ape,” sniffed Ryan.

“He was not, he was very suave. We even had dinner with him in his private quarters.”

“He wore a skirt.”

“He wore a kilt,” corrected Rachel.

“Ooh, I like those,” said Gill.

“Cathy made Jez get one,” grinned Rachel. “We’re investing in the castle estate,” she added excitedly. “The Laird’s setting up an outdoor pursuits centre and shopping arcade.”

“That’s fantastic,” enthused Gill. “Does that mean we can go and stay there?”

“Whenever we want. We’ve got our own personal quarters. We’ve also got a stake in the estate distillery.”

“We know where we’re going on our next holiday,” smiled Rick. It did him a lot of good to see Rachel so animated. Ever since the trauma she’d endured thanks to Alex sodding Maguire she’d been quieter, more reserved. The sparkle was back in her eyes and there was colour in her cheeks again. He’d been wrong to try and convince her not to go to Scotland, it had done her the power of good.

“Have you seen Dee?” said Rachel as Gill seated them all in the living room with a cup of tea and a slice of cake each.

“We stopped by yesterday,” said Gill. “Vince’s breathing is really bad. Poor Dolores hasn’t left his side.” Vince had been diagnosed with emphysema, which was why he and Dolores had moved from the city, so he could benefit from the fresh Devonshire air.

“I’ll go and see them. We bought them a pressie back each,” she replied.

“That’s what you get for smoking,” said Gill. “I don’t want to sound callous, I’m very fond of Dolores and Vince, really I am, but he has no one to blame but himself.”

“Well he’s certainly paying for it now,” said Rachel, irritated by her mother’s self-righteous tone.

Rick had noticed that since the Alex nightmare Rachel was a little more short-tempered than she used to be, less patient. Not that he minded, it was just a relief to see her breathing.

“Shall we go and see how our new house is coming along?” said Rachel and the three children cheered.

Ryan drove the five of them in the Range Rover to the site of their old house that had been burnt down by Alex Maguire. They’d decided to build the new on top of the old because they refused to be driven out of their home. The house was coming along quickly, all the finishing touches being added to the interior. They’d decided to add another bedroom so they would have six instead of five along with an indoor pool, which had delighted the children. They were also rebuilding the stables and the annex but work hadn’t even started on those yet. That would only begin once the main house was finished. It meant they’d be living on a building site for a few months but they didn’t care, they just wanted to come home.

“It’s going to be beautiful,” smiled Rachel, surveying the vast kitchen. The tiled terracotta floor was already down and the black granite worktops were being installed.

“They should have finished all the electrics by now,” said Ryan, frowning at the report in his hand, which he’d insisted was ready for him on their return from Scotland. “Why haven’t they done it? I’m going to stick my boot up the site manager’s backside,” he said, making Leah and Ethan giggle.

“Come on, let’s go and take a look at the pool while Daddy tells someone off,” said Rachel, taking the boys’ hands, Leah following.

Ethan and Aaron were disappointed when they peered into the empty pool.

“Water?” frowned Aaron, pointing a small digit at it.

“They’ll put that in when we move in,” Rachel explained. Leah had been quiet as they’d surveyed the house and she was becoming concerned. “Do you like it?” she asked her daughter.

“Yeah, it’s really nice.”

“But?”

“I’m frightened this house will burn down too.”

“It won’t sweetheart, I promise. The old house was just that, old. This house is made out of fireproof materials, it’ll be a lot tougher and we’re adding more smoke alarms and another fire escape. It will be much safer.” At times like this, when the damage Alex had done to her family became really apparent, she was glad he was dead. Real life wasn’t like the movies where there was always a happy ever after. Trauma left deep internal scars and they were the most dangerous because they couldn’t be seen, it was easy to hide them and Leah did try, which worried Rachel. Sometimes she was so busy trying to be a big sister and to be brave for her parents that she didn’t let her emotions out enough. What Alex had done to their family would be with her forever. Fortunately the boys were too young to remember, although Ethan did get frightened if he saw fire on the television.

“Okay,” said Leah, looking a little brighter.

Rachel wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Alex can’t hurt us anymore,” she whispered. “We’re safe.”

Leah nodded. “I know and I’m glad.”

“Me too Sweetie. Oh dear, your dad doesn’t look very happy,” she said as Ryan stomped over to them, mumbling what sounded like the word
arsehole
under his breath.

“Something wrong?” said Rachel.

“The idiot’s got behind on the schedule I set him.”

“To be fair it would be difficult for anyone without supernatural powers to keep up with your schedule. Give them a bit of breathing space and they’ll work better.”

“I want us in here and settled. I’m tired of living in rented accommodation.”

“Another couple of weeks and we will be. Cut them some slack.”

“I know what I will cut,” he muttered.

“Would you mind taking the kids home while I visit Dee? After what Mum said about Vince I need to check they’re okay.”

“Of course not,” he smiled smoothly. “Don’t forget to give her the whisky. The sooner we start promoting it the better.”

The first thing Rachel was greeted with when Dolores opened the door to their seventeenth century cottage was coughing and wheezing.

“Rach,” exclaimed Dolores, throwing her arms around her neck. “How did the wedding go?”

“It was great, I’ve brought some pictures to show you,” she said, holding up her mobile phone. “I’ve brought pressies too.”

“In that case come on in,” smiled Dolores, standing aside.

Vince was sat in an armchair by the fire in the cosy sitting room, a blanket around his shoulders, which shook every time he coughed.

“Hi Vince,” said Rachel breezily, bending to kiss his cheek.

He took a big suck on a blue inhaler and nodded. “Alright Rach?” he wheezed before coughing again. He grimaced and put a hand to his chest. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be so bloody silly, you don’t need to apologise.” She removed the bottle of Abercraig whisky from the tartan bag and placed it on the table. “Get that down your neck, that’ll sort your chest out.”

“Thanks Rach,” he rasped. “How was Scotland?”

“Brilliant,” she replied, taking a seat. “The wedding was lovely and we had dinner with the Laird in his private quarters.”

“Ooh, that sounds nice,” said Dolores, sitting beside her on the couch.

Rachel launched into an excited explanation of their new business venture while Dolores sampled the whisky.

“Mmm, lovely. Hits the bloody spot does that,” she said approvingly.

“Glad you like it. We’ll be serving it in all our restaurants and bars.”

Dolores’s face fell. “I’m really sorry, I’ve not had much chance to be at the restaurant. Vince really hasn’t been well…”

“It’s alright Dee, you don’t even need to run it now you’ve got the casino.” She and Ryan had gifted the casino they’d owned in Manchester to Dolores in gratitude for her risking a hefty prison sentence after Alex set them up. She’d disposed of a huge block of cocaine for them just before a police raid and the casino was her reward for keeping them out of prison. Dolores had left her daughter in charge, who had experience working in casinos and it was still turning in a big profit, all of which went straight to Dolores. “How’s the assistant manager you hired doing running the restaurant?”

“Grand. He’s a lovely lad and he knows what he’s doing,” replied Dolores.

“If you like I can make him manager and you can concentrate on Vince then.”

“I won’t be leaving you in the lurch?”

“Course not. All I want is for someone competent to run my restaurant and you don’t need the job, not with the cash you’re raking in.”

“Jesus girl, is there no end to your generosity?” said Dolores, hugging her.

“Not for my mates and you’re one of my best.”

Dolores smiled and patted her face. “Thanks Love. Oh, you won’t have heard, John Owen’s gone missing.”

“The lad who works in the butcher’s?”

Dolores nodded. “Dropped off the radar completely. He’s such a nice boy too, there’s no way he’d just run away.”

“Not another one,” said Rachel. Over the past seven years eight men from the local area had simply vanished. There was no rhyme or reason to it. None of them had any connection or even knew each other. The oldest was forty and the youngest just nineteen. “Someone’s got to be taking them.”

“It’s a serial killer,” wheezed Vince before taking another tug on his inhaler. “Police won’t admit it though, not until they find a body.”

Rachel shivered. “I hope not.”

“Don’t creep us out Vince,” said Dolores. “They could have had an accident, fallen in the sea or even committed suicide. It could be anything. You should stop reading all those crime books, they’re sending you funny.”

“Someone’s taking them I tell you,” he said before launching into another coughing fit.

“Now look what you’ve done you silly bugger,” said Dolores, leaping to her feet, but all she could do was stand helplessly by his side until it had passed. “From now on the only things you’re allowed to read are chick lit romances with a picture of a woman on the front holding shopping bags.”

Vince’s face creased up. “You trying to send me to the funny farm woman?”

“No, I’m trying to stop you getting overexcited. Serial killer indeed.”

“He might have a point Dee,” said Rachel.

“Don’t you start too Rach.”

“People don’t just vanish for no reason.”

Dolores looked from her to Vince and shrugged. “Great, so we move to the country for some peace and quiet and run into the hands of a serial killer.”

“You are so dramatic,” said Vince. “He only snatches men and good looking ones at that, so I’m safe.”

“I knew that ugly mug would come in useful one day,” smiled Dolores.

Beth stormed through the gates of the scrap yard she’d inherited from Alex in a foul mood. She hated the place. She wasn’t a fool, she knew he’d used it to dispose of inconvenient people, as had Danny and Frank. It felt more like a graveyard than a business, ruined cars lying about broken and unloved, the chilly northern wind groaning through the muddy compound that disguised a multitude of sins.

It was this superstitious fear that had kept her away and made her leave Bill Chalmers in charge, the slimy fat bastard who’d run it for years. Now she was forced to come here because someone had tipped her off that Bill was skimming off some of the profits and it made her furious. Her last name was still Maguire, purely for business reasons, and if your name was Maguire no one should fuck with you. Just because she was a woman on the legitimate side he thought he could mess her about. He wouldn’t have dared do it to Alex and she was going to take the opportunity to prove she could be just as tough, hypothetically at least. Alex would have stuffed him into the boot of one of the cars and fed it through the crusher.

Beth was ready for this fight. She’d been suffering sleepless nights over Riley, terrified he’d get shot in some horrible, sand-riddled warzone as well as wrestling with feelings of guilt over the way she’d treated him. She needed a target for her anger and this tosspot had a bullseye in the centre of his forehead.