Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“A yes or a no by next Friday. If there’s no answer, they’ll hurt me. If it’s a no, they’ll hurt me and then they’ll come for Kelly.”
I’d relayed the conversation to Ramsay, standing outside on my front deck, staring out at the tranquility and beauty before me. The dichotomy of it. The irony. All I’d ever wanted was to give my family a comfortable life. When the house was completed, I’d stood on the deck and looked out at the water and felt a gratitude so big, it was overwhelming.
How blessed was I to live in a peaceful haven?
But it turned out, nowhere was safe in the modern world.
Evil could infiltrate from anywhere.
“I spoke to the detective in Inverness this afternoon,” Ramsay had replied when I’d told him what Jill said. “The police will be in touch tomorrow.”
And sure enough that morning, I spoke with the island’s Detective Inspector Paul Young. He was head of the island’s small station where his wife Detective Constable Alice Young worked alongside Police Constable William Shearing. During big events, Police Scotland’s N Division sent extra officers to help deal with the tourists. But otherwise, the small force was enough for Glenvulin.
Usually, officers were referred to by their surnames, but we were all so close knit here in Leth Sholas that they were called by their first names. DI Paul had invited me to the station on Monday morning to discuss the situation with him and two detectives who worked in the Specialist Crime Division. I was anxious that we weren’t meeting immediately, but the detectives worked out of Inverness and were in the middle of an operation.
“You better get the drum on.”
“What?” I blinked, coming out of my thoughts.
Quinn frowned in concern. “It’s almost time to go onstage.”
I quickly strapped on the drum and a minute later, I marched out of the office, hitting the sides of the instrument with the beaters in a staccato tempo as I strode into the low-lit pub area of the Fisherman’s Lantern. The stage was really a space near the back of the room where Aodhan removed tables and chairs.
All the other tables and chairs were turned to face the makeshift performance area.
Cheers and greetings in English and Gaelic met my ears despite the booming bass of my drum. I turned to stand straight and center, lifting my knees in a march along with the beat. Most spring/summer gigs we wore our kilts with T-shirts or jumpers, but it was a Baltic spring evening, so we’d forgone the kilts for jeans and long tees.
My gaze automatically zoomed in on familiar red hair, and I found London clapping along to the beat with everyone else, her attention steadfast on me. Even when the wail of Ramsay’s pipes joined in, followed by Quinn and Forde on their drums, London kept her focus on me.
She was a bright light in all this messed-up darkness.
Had she almost kissed me yesterday?
The idea that my wife might want me as much as I wanted her filled me with the kind of anticipation I hadn’t felt since I was a boy.
I reluctantly dragged my eyes from her as I left the stage, the drums feathering out into a fade as I disappeared to allow the lads to continue the gig alone.
When I returned from the office, drumless, I received a few cheers and raised pints as I moved through the crowded bar to London’s table. She sat with Taran, Cammie, and Tierney who had Akiva at her feet. London had not only kept a seat open for me next to her but there was also a pint waiting for me.
She leaned in, her light floral scent causing a tightening of need in my gut. “Well done.” I barely heard her compliment over the noise of the band.
I murmured my thanks and reached for the pint.
London’s lips brushed my ear, sending a shiver from my nape down my spine. “It’s NA.”
My breath caught as I turned my head, our noses almost touching as I looked into her spectacular eyes that sparkled in spite of the bar’s dim light. Even over Ramsay’s pipes, I heard the hitch of her breath, and hot blood shot south as I imagined hearing that hitch rising to cries of pleasure as I moved inside her.
As if she read my thoughts, London’s lips parted on a sharp exhale that whispered across my mouth.
And since we were in public and we were supposed to be husband and wife, I dared to move my head downward and brush my lips over hers.
London made a small feminine sound, and it elicited a big reaction in my dick, which was followed by an even bigger reaction when she chased my mouth and pressed her lips more firmly to mine. I wanted to grab her up and carry her out of there. I wanted to press her against a wall and kiss her until we couldn’t breathe.