In Her Secret Fantasy (13 page)

Aidan winked at him. “Just playing.” And to Glenn, “Did you get my text last night?”

Glenn nodded. “Chrissy’s fine. How sure are you?”

“I’ll come up to the house and tell you, if you like.”

Glenn nodded, and as they emerged from the woods, Jack ran ahead.

Aidan said, “There’s another gun buried now where Chrissy’s was. My guess, it was the gun he brought for his own use. Somehow, he found out about Chrissy’s and he decided to implicate her in his murder—for spite, probably because on the face of it, it’s not smart to involve Ardknocken at all.”

“Except she’s revealed as the bad guy and we all get to be self-righteous and in the clear. Like a double bluff.”

“There’s that,” Aidan agreed. “Plus, I’m getting he fancies himself as Mr. Big. A guy with an organization behind him. Someone who learned in prison what the criminal opportunities could be for a man of intelligence.”

“Not an uncommon outcome of prison,” Glenn said without expression. “You make contacts.”

“And now he’s making more. In the short term, he might be hiding with you, but in the long term, I expect he plans to use you as employees. You’ve a fine set of skills between you for criminal enterprises.”

“Aye, well, he’s in for a shock.”

“Not yet,” Aidan said. “Not quite yet. I want the whole supply line. We can probably get little the guys via the victims already in hospital—providing they don’t all die—but I want the people at the top.”

Glenn glanced at him with something like pity. “How’re you going to do that?”

“I might find evidence in his room.”

Glenn flicked a glance at him. “And if you don’t?”

It was unlikely that he would. They both understood that. An aspiring Mr. Big wouldn’t leave evidence lying around, at least not so soon after he’d left prison.

Aidan said, “Then they’ll need to come here to take care of a problem.”

Glenn turned, calling to Jack who’d been sidetracked by some pinecones piled in an intricate pattern on the ground. Jack jumped up and ran to them, then streaked ahead again. Despite the conversation, Aidan found himself smiling. It had been good to grow up in Ardknocken, wild and safe. He’d never known how safe until he’d left.

“What problem?” Glenn asked with a hint of grimness.

“Something that threatens their business reputation and their honour. A missing drug shipment would do it.”

“No.”

Aidan smiled. “No what?”

“I’m not touching drugs, even to send down these bastards. I’ll get sent down with them.”

It was what Aidan had wanted to hear, a confirmation of his own instincts, that whatever his past, today Brody was clean. One day, he’d hear Glenn’s story.

“Settle down,” Aidan said mildly. “I do my own dirty work. Besides, why would I use someone who gets caught?”

“I got caught for murder,” Glenn retorted, “not drug dealing.”

“That’s all right, then. You’re in next time.”

“Fuck off,” Glenn said, and in perfect accord, they walked into the house.

Two of the younger ex-cons were arguing as they crossed the hall from the back of the house, heading towards one of the open doors in the right. They paused to call a careless greeting. Brody’s dog galumphed past them, charging towards Glenn as if he hadn’t seen his master for a month.

Glenn fended him off with careless affection, asking, “Where’s Izzy?”

“Think she went up to Chrissy’s room,” one of the men answered, wandering through the door. Glenn led the way upstairs, the dog bounding after him. Following, Aidan wondered if they were going to Chrissy’s room or to the flat at the top of the house. The strength of his desire to see Chrissy again, to see her in her own space, shocked him. She was a complication he didn’t need in his life right now.

So why had he seduced her? Just because he needed a lay? He couldn’t and wouldn’t pretend that. He’d wanted
her
. Chrissy. And having had her, he wanted her again. And again.
Fuck.

A huge, tall window rose over two floors in the staircase. Aidan didn’t pause to admire the view. His mind, his body was full of anticipation of seeing Chrissy. Glenn went up two flights, so perhaps they were headed to the flat. Unlike the rest of the house, three doors were closed on this floor, not counting the attic-flat door. The one at the end was the study attached to the flat, which had once been Glenn’s bedroom.

Glenn paused at the top of the stairs and jerked his head to the door on the left. When Aidan frowned, he murmured, “You wanted evidence.”

“He might be in.”

“He’s in Frog’s caravan. I saw him from the downstairs window.”

“You’d better watch for me,” Aidan breathed. “I do
not
want him spooked at this stage.”

“Then don’t leave a mess,” Glenn advised.

Aidan shrugged off his coat, letting it fall to the floor with his backpack, then tried the door. Finding it locked, he fished his trusty lockpick from his jeans pocket.

Glenn sat on the top step, pulling the dog’s ears while he watched with wry interest. “You’re wasted as a cop.”

“And the pay’s crap,” Aidan said, stepping out of his shoes and easing open the door before slipping inside.

It was a big room, surprisingly tidy and neat. Which made it easier to search.

The metal detector was in the wardrobe. Aidan photographed it before swiftly feeling in pockets and down seams. Closing the door, he reached on top but found only an empty suitcase. He moved on to the desk, where he found some papers and a wallet. The papers seemed to have random and unlabelled figures on them. He photographed them too, but didn’t hold out much hope of either them or the wallet which was unlikely to be left unattended if it contained vital information.

A computer would have been useful, but if there was one, Aidan suspected it was also visiting the electronic genius in the caravan. Pity. He could have got Thierry to install some useful hacking software. There were still possibilities there, but it would take time Aidan didn’t really have.

He searched drawers and felt under the pillows and mattress. He even investigated the backs and bottoms of furniture, and under the rug. Nothing. He eased back out of the room, just as the door opposite opened and Chrissy and Izzy stood there, gawping at him with widening eyes.

“Banged to rights,” Aidan murmured. “Call the police.”

Izzy said faintly, “We’re having coffee in Chrissy’s room.”

“Thanks,” Glenn said, rising to his feet and striding over to them. “I could murder a coffee.”

Izzy followed him into the room while Chrissy continued to glare at Aidan from the doorway. He stepped back into his shoes, picked up his coat and bag and walked towards her. Her face was flushed, but not, he thought, from anger. He’d taken her by surprise, and the result was so appealing, he went right up close to her and bent his head over hers. Although her breath caught, and she couldn’t back away, she didn’t push him. Her eyes dilated, making him smile as he closed the gap and kissed her mouth.

The touch, the taste of her lips enflamed him. He wanted to keep kissing her until their caresses turned into sex. Impossible in the circumstances, so he made do with a sensual sweep of his tongue around her mouth before stepping back and entering her room.

Glenn stood by the window while beside him Izzy spoke urgently and worriedly. The dog was busy sniffing around the room.

It was a nice room, light and airy. The curtains, the bedcover and the beanbags were all bright colours. An original painting, probably one of Charlie’s, hung on one wall, a large and rather beautiful piece of red and gold fabric had been draped elegantly along another in folds and pleats that caught at the watery winter sunlight beginning to break through the clouds.

Glenn took Izzy’s hand, and squeezed it before letting go and turning to Aidan. “Well?”

“Metal detector. Nothing else of any use.”

“You mean it’s
Len
?” Chrissy whispered. “How do you know?”

“There’s a connection between him and the man on the island,” Aidan said, sinking into one of the beanbags. “I think Len decided to move the operation to Ardknocken, and Gowan disagreed—probably because Ardknocken’s full of criminals.”

“And cops,” Glenn intervened.

“Aye, but Gowan wouldn’t know that. Criminals it is. Anyway, Len went there prepared for trouble, armed with Chrissy’s gun.”

“How?” Izzy demanded. “Chrissy thinks someone blabbed at New Year.”

Aidan glanced at her, rather proud of her. “Expect someone did, duly encouraged by Len—whom Chrissy had rejected openly during the matter of a New Year kiss. Using her gun was a moment of petty malice that’s going to bite him on the bum.”

“But he can’t have known before he came,” Chrissy objected. “Why would he bring a metal detector with him?”

“Because he planned to hide his own gun in the grounds. He knew the house rules, didn’t know whether or not the police check on us, so he always planned to hide it, but wanted to find it easily again too, so he brought the metal detector. It came in handy to find Chrissy’s, and he swapped them, burying his in the same place.”

“Vindictive bastard,” Izzy said, her lips thinning with indignation.

Chrissy sank onto the sofa. “What is it about some men? They think they have a right to sex with someone who’s not fucking interested? And then to just casually ruin their lives in retaliation… Have I got a wrong label on me or something?”

“Some men are just pieces of shite,” Aidan said with quite careful restraint. He wanted to take her in his arms.

Glenn’s fists were clenched, his eyes hard as agates as he walked towards the door. “I can still hide a body,” he said ominously.

“Hey,” Aidan warned, staring at him. “I’m a cop.”

“It was just a figure of speech,” Izzy said hastily, hurrying after Glenn and catching his arm. His fists unclenched.

“I’m on Plan B,” Aidan said.

Glenn halted, turning to meet his gaze briefly before continuing towards the door. “Watch yourself,” he warned.

Chapter Twelve It was a bad moment, realizing someone you’d treated with perfect kindness had reacted with such malice to such a tiny, imagined offence. And no one sane would deny she had the right not to be slobbered over by a stranger, even at New Year. Right now, it even seemed worse that Aidan should know about it.

He touched her hand. “Hey. It was inevitable someone would try and use this place as a scam eventually. Just be grateful it was only a bastard who deserves everything he’s going to get.”

She gave him a lopsided smile. “You have weird logic.”

“Trust me, it’s a big bonus to arrest someone you really dislike. Is there any coffee left in that pot?”

She stood and poured some into her empty mug, which she handed to him. His fingers brushed hers. He’d kissed her when he came in, uncaring that Izzy or Glenn might see. The kiss had curled her toes, did so now all over again as she remembered it. But the business with Len was a nagging sore.

“It couldn’t have been him,” she said flatly. “I saw him on the beach that afternoon. We both did.”

He drew her down beside him and put his arm around her shoulder. “Well, I hope neither of us ever has to swear to that in court. Because I don’t think it was Len we saw.”

She frowned. “It was.”

He shifted position, just a tad uncomfortable. “It was also the day you found the seal skin. Or at least something furry in a cave.”

She blinked. “Are you saying Len’s a selkie?”

He grinned. “No. But some stories say they can take the shape of people they’ve met.”

“I’ve never heard that story,” Chrissy said dubiously. But then she’d never paid much attention until the last few days. “On the other hand…when I spoke to him the next about our conversation on the beach, he didn’t seem to know what I was talking about. And he had talked about seeing seals on the beach before.” She rubbed her forehead. “Am I crazy that this is beginning to make some kind of sense?” It would also explain why that beach encounter with Len had been the only one she hadn’t been keen to escape—up until the conflicting compulsions that had freaked her so badly. Every other time, she had to admit the man had given her the willies. She should have listened to her instincts and not been so determinedly tolerant.

She frowned, dropping her hand into her lap. “Do selkies have some kind of…compulsion power? That day I felt such an urge to go with him that it frightened me. Especially when I found it so hard to resist. I thought I was going insane or having some kind of seizure.”

Aidan drank thoughtfully. “I thought it was some kind of delayed reaction to your trauma.”

“Maybe it was. Less weird to think so.”

“Oh, we’ve gone beyond weird now. We had selkies on the boat.”

Chrissy shook her head. “That’s nuts too. Why would we have selkies on the boat?”

“They came to seduce us, but we’d seduced each other instead.”

A flush spread through her, rising hotly into her cheeks.

His hand moved on her shoulder, pushing her face up to his. “I liked seducing you.”

“I liked being seduced,” she admitted breathlessly.

“Would you like to do it again?”

Her fingers curled in her lap. “Oh well, yes,” she managed. “Some time when you’re not too busy chasing selkies or drug dealers.”

He stroked her cheek. “I seem to have a window,” he said softly.

She raised one eyebrow. “And you need a cover story?”

“Side benefit. Being in your room’s cover enough. Making love to you would be undiluted pleasure.”

She glanced at his lips, remembering. She swallowed. “My mother always warned me about smooth-talking devils like you.”

“I’m not surprised. Just bloody glad you didn’t listen.”

“I listened.”

“Then why did you let me have my wicked way with you yesterday?”

“What makes you think it wasn’t
my
wicked way?”

A smile flickered across his lips, just before they brushed hers. “I wish my mother had warned me about women like you.”

“Why, what would you do differently?” Every word, every syllable brushed their lips against each other, soft and seductive.

His lips curved again. “Absolutely nothing,” he said, and closed his mouth on hers.

No one kissed like Aidan. Every movement of his lips and tongue, every soft graze of his teeth, melted her bones into a hot stream that rushed straight between her legs. If he just touched her there and kept kissing her, she’d come…

Except she’d never been very submissive. Blindly, without releasing his mouth, she took the mug from his hands and set it down on the floor. Then, still kissing him, she climbed into his lap and rubbed herself against his erection, which was already big and hard for her. Desire flamed higher as she burrowed under his sweater and shirt, desperate to stroke his naked flesh. Only then did she break the kiss to haul his clothes up over his head, and devour his bare shoulders and chest with her open mouth, kissing and nibbling.

His heart battered beneath her lips and hands, his breath coming in quick, heavy bursts. She felt his hands, busy with the fastening of his jeans, and rose up on her knees to let him push them down over his hips. His cock rose up dark and rigid against his pale, muscled stomach, and although her mouth watered, she had to lick her dry lips.

He took her face between his hands and kissed her mouth, tangling his fingers in her hair. And when she took hold of his cock, loving the sheer heat and the steely hardness beneath its silken skin, his whole body shuddered.

In sheer, desperate lust, she tore her mouth free, wriggled downwards, and plunged, seizing the head of his cock with her lips. He groaned, thrusting into her mouth and she kissed it hard, glorying in his taste, the feel of him pushing and pulling between her lips.

He stroked her hair, her face, tracing the outline of himself in her mouth, then dropped his hands to her waist, delving beneath her tunic to haul down her leggings and knickers. When they got stuck, he pushed against her, forcing her to release his cock and she found herself on her back, her clothes efficiently stripped.

She sat up, grabbing up his discarded jeans, looking for a condom and finding a ring of narrow tools.

“Left pocket for burglary,” he said breathlessly. “Right for sex.”

“Silly me.” She grasped the foil packet and tossed the jeans, by which time he was kissing and fondling her breasts, and that felt so good she let the condom go, barely registering what else he was doing until, sheathed, he pushed into her and smothered her startled cry in his mouth.

He held still inside her, apparently absorbed in her mouth and in the breast he caressed with such tender, arousing fingers, stroking her nipple to a fine hard peak as he kissed her.

“Would you like to retire to the bed?” she asked unsteadily, trying not to sound too desperate.

He raised his head, his blond hair wild and his eyes dark and clouded with blatant lust. “No. Unless you object I want to fuck you here on your bedroom floor.”

A desperate sound burst from her lips. Her arms tightened around him, her fingers digging convulsively into his flesh as she pushed up onto him. “Oh yes,” she muttered instead of whatever witty response her poor, sex-bemused brain was trying to come up with.

Like an arrow released from a bow, he moved then, hard and urgent, holding her head steady while he ravished her mouth and fucked her, hot and hard and delicious. Pleasure soared through her fevered body, spiralling out of control as she clung to him, writhing into mindless bliss.

She came hard and furiously, smothering her cries in his mouth as he hammered her, holding her there for so long she thought she’d die—or at least faint—and then at last, he let go. His mouth opened wide, his breathless groan rising to a shout which she swallowed with triumphant delight. She’d made him come; she’d given him this pleasure.

He released her mouth, dropping his head to the carpet, his ragged breath loud in her ear. “Oh Chrissy,” he muttered. “What you do to me.”

“You asked for it,” she said smugly, turning her head in time to see the exhausted smile split his face.

“Oh, I did,” he agreed, kissing her ear. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have such a beautiful body.”

“I refer you back to my mother’s warning,” she said dryly.

He lifted his head, holding her face between his hands. “I don’t just say these things for sex, you know. You
are
beautiful. And God knows you’re in danger of fascinating me beyond the recommended dose.”

“What’s that?” she asked without thinking, but she already knew. Beyond what was easy to leave behind. Perhaps he saw the knowledge in her eyes, for he kissed her again.

“Live for the day,” he said against her lips.

“And spit in the face of danger.”

“That’s the one.”

He eased himself up, taking hold of his cock as he slid out of her, and removed the condom. She lay decadently among the cushions, watching him walk across to her bathroom and deposit the condom. As he came back, his gait seemed to change to something more predatory, as did the warmth in his eyes.

She smiled and held up her arms for him. He bent but instead of curling back up with her, he put his arms around her and lifted her. She squeaked in surprise as she was swung up against his body and he rose, walking with her to the bed.

“Again?” she said breathlessly as he laid her on the pillows.

“Oh yes.”

“Your window appears to be large,” she joked.

“Not just my window.”

She reached between them, closing her hand around his semihard cock. “You mean this?”

“No, I mean the right hand pocket of my jeans.”

Laughter surged, and she threw her arms around him in total abandonment.

“Sundays in bed,” Aidan murmured several hours later as he stroked her hair. “Can’t beat them.”

They lay close together, sated at least for now, her head on his sweat-dampened chest. Idly, Chrissy wondered how often they’d made love. Three times, if you only counted full, penetrative sex with a happy outcome for each. But she’d scored a couple of extra orgasms from intimate play and caresses, so it seemed like more, and she had to agree heartily with Aidan’s observation.

“Although,” she added in the interests of honesty, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in bed this long with anyone and not been asleep for some of the time. On a Sunday or any other day.”

His hand stilled on her hair in apparent surprise. “Really? Well, I’m very happy to help you change that.”

She spread her folded hands on his chest and propped her chin on them to see his face. “Then this is quite a normal Sunday for you?” she joked. “Layabout.”

But something not quite funny twisted inside her, reminding her of the huge differences between their experiences.

His arm slid over her back and tightened. “Far from normal. I’ve never been in your bed before. And making love to you is not merely
normal
.”

“Should I be flattered?”

A smile flickered across his face. “I don’t know. It depends what you think of me.”

“I don’t know what to think of you. I think you get women in your bed very easily.”

“Yes? How easy are you?”

“Celibate until I met you.”

“And before you were attacked?”

It was funny, but in his arms, focusing entirely on him, she didn’t even cringe at his words. The memory was there in all its awfulness, but well behind
this
, the present. It was almost as if he’d said
before you went on holiday
. Or at least
before you were burgled
.

She considered. “I had boyfriends. Relationships. They didn’t last very long. I always seemed to be looking for something else.”

“What?”

You.

The knowledge flashed into her brain, seemed to electrify her whole body. By some superhuman effort of self-preservation, she managed not to blurt it out.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “A spark. A depth. Something beyond attraction that isn’t simple friendship. A couple of my exes make much better friends.” She moved one hand, caressing his chest before touching his lips with one fingertip. She loved his lips and what he could do with them to so many parts of her. “What about your relationships?”

His lips twisted under her finger. It wasn’t quite a smile. “What about them, indeed. There were a couple of women I cared for deeply over the years. But I couldn’t be with them when I was undercover. Even if I was in the right city, I was a different man. And when I went back to them, they’d moved on. Probably, so had I.”

“Is that why you came home?” she asked.

He shook his head. “This was years ago.” His eyes came back into focus. “If you want the truth, Chrissy, I last spent a Sunday in bed with a terrorist’s wife. I’m not actually a very nice man.”

Her throat tightened. “Did you love her?”

He sighed. “I cared for her. I felt sorry for her. But we were using each other. I needed information, and she wanted a way out. She thought I might be it.”

“Were you?”

“Yes, though not quite as she imagined. Chrissy, I don’t want to talk about this stuff, not with you.”

“Why not?”

His hand swept up her back to tangle in the hair at the back of her head, gently tugging. “Because you’re not part of it. I
like
that you’re not part of it. Now kiss me, flatter me.” He seized her mouth in a quick, hard kiss, then rolled her under him. “Tell me I’m the best lover you ever had.”

“You’re the best lover I ever had,” she said obediently.
You are. God help me, you are.

He smiled. “I wish you meant it,” he said and kissed her again. She wanted to weep for some hint of wistful sincerity in his voice gave her a hope that wasn’t really there. He would always leave in the end, in search of excitement. Aidan, she suspected, was an adrenaline junky.

He left off kissing her, glanced at the window and then gazed down at her consideringly. “The sun’s about to set. I should go, very soon. The question is, how to fill the last few minutes? Sex or shower?”

“Where are you going?”

“Just home. Tea with my folks.”

“Then you’d better shower,” she said dryly. “You’ll stink of sweat and sex and me.”