Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
I’d caught sight of Ramsay as I wandered through the house, but he’d seemed preoccupied.
An hour later, I felt superfluous to the activity. “What can I do to help?” I asked Quinn.
My contractor’s smile was kind. “Honestly … a lunch run. It would save the guys going down to Main Street.”
“Lunch.” I jumped on the idea. “I can do lunch. I’ll go get everyone’s orders.”
It took me twenty minutes to get around to everyone and I left Ramsay until last. Akiva wasn’t with him today and was probably with Annie at the voluntary Leth Sholas Lifeboat Service station which I now knew locals abbreviated to the LS.
I might have worried about Ramsay’s reliance on Annie, but I’d finally met her at the Fisherman’s Lantern and she was a seventy-two-year-old widow who volunteered full time with the LS as their station manager.
Finally, I approached Ramsay in one of the back downstairs bedrooms. “Hey!” I called out before I walked in to give him a heads-up.
The banging from inside halted. Ramsay stepped away from his work. He swiped a strong forearm over his forehead, wiping the sweat from it. His biceps flexed with the movement, and I experienced an answering tug deep in my belly.
Over the last few months, his beard and hair had grown again, but he’d trimmed both before they reached the yeti stage.
“Aye?” he asked, studying the sliding closet door he’d fitted.
He did not give me the courtesy of looking at me.
Apparently, my interrupting him was an annoyance.
“I’m on lunch duty. Do you want anything from the bakery?”
Ramsay kept looking at that damn door like it was fascinating. “Anything. Whatever’s left. Not fussy.”
“That’s extremely unhelpful.”
“A sandwich,” he bit out impatiently.
What the hell was his problem? I wanted to ask. To confront him and his suddenly shitty attitude toward me, but I was emotionally drained.
So damn tired.
Without another word, I walked out.
Quinn was outside conversing with one of the guys about the repair work happening on the roof. I nodded at him as I passed to get to my car. I’d taken to leaving it at the B and B since parking was tight behind my vacation apartment. Once per day, at least one of the workmen teased me about the bright paint job on my cute little Suzuki.
Mind on Ramsay’s weird behavior, I opened the driver’s door, and it took me a second to process what was happening.
Worms. A horror movie abundance of worms, poured out of the car.
They hit my feet before I could react.
I squealed, jumping back, shaking my legs, shrieking as I kicked off the live worms. My yells of abhorrence grew louder and louder.
“Fuck!” I heard Quinn’s shout and then he was at my side. “Are you all right? Tierney, are you all right?”
I shuddered, pulling at my clothes. “Are they off?! Are there any more on me?”
He turned me efficiently, checking me over as I tugged at my tee, whimpering with revulsion.
“What the fuck?”
Both of our heads snapped toward Ramsay who’d obviously heard the commotion and come running.
He stared stonily at the worms slithering on the ground at my vehicle and wriggling over each other inside it. They’d filled the driver’s seat and floor of my Suzuki. Ramsay’s wolf-gray eyes snapped to me. “Worm bait.” His eyes narrowed. I saw understanding dawn. “The bird was for you.”
I shuddered, feeling nausea rise every time I looked at my vehicle. Leaning into Quinn, who’d put his arm around me, I shook my head.
“Deep breaths.” Quinn rubbed my back in comfort. “Come on, let’s get you some water while we wait for the police.”
“No,” I denied, pulling out of his embrace. “No police.” I was afraid if the police were called, this would find its way into the media. And despite the continued threat, I was even more determined that Perri publish the article.
Worm bait.
Halston Cole was warning me what I’d become if I didn’t stop.
Clearly he was getting desperate.
But this really did mean someone on Glenvulin was doing his dirty work.
Who?
Ramsay strode over to me and Quinn as Quinn tried to talk me into calling the police. He cut his friend off, reaching out to grab me gently by the chin, forcing my gaze to his. “Who is threatening you, Silver?” he demanded gruffly.
Ignoring the shiver of awareness that tingled across the bottom of my breasts at his touch, I yanked my chin from his calloused fingers. I lied. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ramsay stared stonily into my eyes. “Bullshit.”
“Ramsay, mate …” Quinn placed a palm between us. “She’s had a shock. I don’t think an interrogation is going to help matters.”
“She doesn’t want to call the police, even though she’s had two threats made against her. You don’t find that suspicious?”
“I think it could be anything, including some miserable fucker who’s unhappy Tierney—an outsider, no offense—could afford to buy the guesthouse and they couldn’t. The CCTV equipment is on order and it should be here by the end of the week. That should deter any more of this nonsense.”