In Her Secret Fantasy (16 page)

It wasn’t ideal. What was?

Depressed, she turned back into her room, vigorously combing out her wet hair.

Weren’t a few weeks a year with Aidan, with a feeling like
this
, worth constant companionship with anyone else? If she wasn’t in love with Aidan yet, it would only take a feather to push her. The spark was there with a vengeance, like nothing she’d ever felt before, and if only she knew he felt it too…

She threw down her comb and grabbed the ends of the towel wrapped around her body, opening it up to draw it back and forth across her back and hips. She looked like some slightly bedraggled pole dancer. Without the pole.

Could Aidan really want
this
for more than a few days to pass his time at home?

“Trust me,”
he’d said. Trust him to come back? Not to dump her?

“I should have said,” she told her suddenly still reflection in the mirror. “I should have found out how he really felt, brought all this stuff into the open. Or at least
hinted
…”

She didn’t want to dump him. She wanted
him
. And if she suspected he felt that spark, that flame between them… Well, she didn’t know. She needed to know. They both did before all this angst ate them up. She didn’t want him to be angsty while chasing drug dealers and murderers.

How could a short visit break his cover? Hell, a long visit. She could at least see if he was at home. If not, she’d lost nothing. She’d walk in from the beach. Maybe she could even stay the night if he felt as she did.

Her heart beat faster. The germ of an idea tingled through her, bold, reckless. If she was wrong… Well, wasn’t he worth the risk? If she was right, she could surely shock him into some truth.

Of course, she could just go and ask him, but where was the fun in that?

She smiled, tying her hair up in its sexiest messy style, and reached for her makeup. Just a little to add drama. Her skin felt smooth and clean and smelled good after her shower. She sprayed a little of her favourite perfume, and slid her bare feet into her best boots, the new ones her sister had given her for Christmas. Then she walked past the mirror to her bedside table and drew two foil packets from the top drawer. She dropped one in each boot, and went back to the mirror.

“I
am
sexy,” she murmured in surprise.

Fully dressed, with his boots still on, Aidan lay down on the cabin bed where he’d first made love to Chrissy, and forced his body to relax. No way would he sleep, but he’d learned to rest while waiting for action. Black’s last caller had been traced to Eastern Europe. Which still gave Aidan a couple of hours before any visitors were likely. And even then, only if they spoke to Len and to James Black and put their stories together.

He’d left the light on in the cabin and on deck, so everyone would know he was here. He didn’t want anyone going near his home or Chrissy’s. He laid his phone on the pillow beside his head and closed his eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of the village, all overlaid by the soft rush of the sea: a car starting up in the main street; a couple of teenagers calling good-bye from the beach; Jenny Bain’s baby crying in the cottage across from the harbour; some raucous laughter as the pub emptied and footsteps, some of them steadier than others, made their way home.

Quiet. His ears were perfectly attuned to the night. He’d hear any approach, however stealthy.

And it came faster than he’d thought. From the direction of the beach. Grains of sand crunched softly under hard soles on the tarmac of the quay. One set.

Surprised, he sat up and listened for more. He’d expected more than one. Perhaps it was Len arriving as back up. Or observer.

A soft thud on the deck, a faint rocking of the boat, told him what he needed to know. He picked up his phone as the cabin door creaked open, and slipped silently from the bed to the other side of the cabin, his finger poised.

His visitor crept down the steps, gazing anxiously towards the quilt heap on the bed.

Jesus.
Aidan froze, staring at the unwanted sight of the girl in full-length coat and boots. The girl he rather feared he loved.

“Aidan?” she whispered. “Are you there?”

“No, I’m over here about to shoot you.”

She jumped, gasping, and spun to face him, one hand pressed to the base of her throat. “Christ, you startled me!”

“I meant to,” he said grimly. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“No, I—”

“Then you have to go. Now, Chrissy.”

She gazed at him. Her desperate eyes seemed huge in her face as they searched his with increasing misery, and his heart smote him for being short with her. Christ knew he didn’t want to hurt her.

“You can’t be here right now,” he said more gently.

“Because you’re working?”

He nodded.

“You’re waiting for someone,” she observed.

“Yes, and I need to be alone.”

“When are they coming?”

“Probably in an hour or so, but I really don’t—”

She smiled, suddenly depriving him of breath to finish his sentence. She began to unbutton her coat. “Then we’ve plenty of time.”

Oh Jesus, don’t do this to me now.
“Not necessarily. I’ve learned never to make assumptions. You need to go
now
.”

“Why? Len and the whole village know I’m your girlfriend. I’d make excellent cover.” On the final word, she dropped the coat from her shoulders, letting it fall in a heap around her heels. Beneath it, she was totally naked.

The blood rushed to his groin so fast, he felt dizzy. This was no way to take on an operation. She began to walk towards him, her shapely hips gently shimmying, her legs all long and lovely, reminding him of the nectar between. As if he could forget. Her pert, tempting breasts seemed to summon him with their dusky, peaked nipples.

He let out a groan. “Chrissy, have mercy. I can’t do this if you’re here.”

“You can’t do it if I’m not.”

In spite of everything, laughter caught in his throat. “I mean my job, as you very well know.”

She came to a halt, almost touching him. Her unique, alluring scent filled his nostrils. He was afraid to breathe in, in case it brought him in contact with those sweet, enticing nipples.

“I want you to know,” she said, and some tiny tremor in her voice dragged his avid gaze back up from her breasts to her face. This still wasn’t easy for her. “It doesn’t have to be a choice. Me or work. I can be in both, or in neither—that one is up to you.”

Fuck, but she chose her moment for this kind of talk. But then, no other moment would have had the same impact. Terrifyingly, she was offering to help, to be there wherever or however he wanted her, and through the sudden blast of hot triumph he didn’t want to feel, he was aware too what this offer was costing her. On very little acquaintance, she was risking rejection and humiliation. And offering herself up to danger. For him.

Slowly, he reached up one hand and touched her soft cheek. She was trembling.

“Chrissy,” he whispered, unable to find any more words just then. “Chrissy.”

She lifted her face, lips parted, and kissed him.

Only a monster or a dead man could have avoided kissing her back. Aidan was neither. His arms closed around her without permission, and the feel of her naked flesh clutched to his body, drove him to fever pitch. He devoured her mouth, tangling her hair in his hand, sliding the other down over the swell of her bottom and hauling her against his aching groin.

“Chrissy, I want that,” he groaned into her mouth. “I want you in my life. I want to be in yours. But I won’t risk you, even for the joy of a few hours in your arms.”

She pulled back and the sight of her full, swelling breasts almost undid him. She smiled. “Then let’s settle for a quickie before I go.”

He swallowed, trying to hold firm. A siren’s smile curved her lips. She took both his hands and placed them over her breasts, rubbing them up and down over her nipples as she wriggled her hips. “Unless, of course, you’re not man enough.”

Laughter caught once more. His fingers curled around her breasts. “Oh I’m man enough. The question is if I’m bastard enough.”

“I think so,” she said, releasing one of his hands in order to plunge hers down to his stomach and his crotch, where it closed, depriving him of what little breath he had left. “After all,” she murmured, sliding down his zip, “you wanted to fuck me naked while you were fully dressed. Although I do have my boots on.”

His breath blasted out. He cannoned into her, seizing her hard against his erection, sweeping her off the ground as he charged with her to the bed. Before her head hit the pillow, his mouth had latched to her breast. He tore his belt open, dragged his cock free and almost howled when he remembered the empty right-hand pocket of his jeans.

Her boot slid up his thigh and his hips. She reached inside and brought out a foil packet. A breath of laughter rushed out as he snatched it from her, tore it open and all but dragged the condom over himself. He retained just enough self-control to touch her first with his hand, to be sure he wouldn’t hurt her. His fingers slid straight into her hot, wet depths, and she almost sobbed, clenching her muscles around him. He caressed her feverishly, swirling his fingers before dragging them free and thrusting his cock inside instead. She arched up to meet him, and he groaned aloud as she sheathed him fully, warm and tight and necessary.

He drew back and drove into her, and she reached for him with both arms.

“Oh no. This is my fantasy now,” he muttered, catching her hands and holding them stretched above her head in one of his while he kneaded her breast and kissed her mouth fiercely. She writhed under him, moaning aloud with pleasure, killing before it was born any fear of appearing to force her, even in fantasy. The boat rocked wildly as he drove into her repeatedly, and he loved that too.

He couldn’t last at that pace. He was panting as much with the effort of holding back as with his exertions by the time her mouth and hands opened wide under his and she gasped and screamed against his lips. He fell with her at once, yet couldn’t stop stroking inside her with the rhythm of his climax, only gradually slowing and gentling. And then, with pure joy, he smiled against her mouth and she smiled with him.

“You’re a wicked, wicked temptress. Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, swiping her left eye against his sweater. Tears.

Appalled, he released her hands, touching her face, her lips. “Chrissy, Chrissy, I’m sorry, please…”

“Oh don’t,” she said, half sobbing, half laughing as she threw both arms around his neck. “It was amazing.
You
’re amazing. I’m just an emotional wreck, that’s all.”

He eased off her, removing his weight without losing any of the closeness, and stroked her hair. Now was not the time. This had all happened ridiculously fast, but time was running out and he needed her safe. She’d taken the chance; she’d come here, had her big seduction contracted into the wickedest, most fulfilling quickie of his life, wherever it ranked in hers. She’d opened the book that was Chrissy, and he was damned if he’d let her close it again before they’d given this thing a chance.

He said, “Am I right in thinking that I’m responsible for your emotional wreckage?”

A smile flickered in her eyes, strangely shy considering what they’d just done and where she still lay. “Well, it’s a nice kind of a wreckage. Makes me weep at both ends.”

He let out a breath of laughter. Then, sobering, he said, “I feel like I’m growing back together around you. I’d like to be with you, Chrissy.”

“I’d like to be with you too,” she whispered.

He kissed her mouth, sealing the promise. “I’ll find a way.”

“Together,” she urged, and he smiled and kissed her again.

“Together,” he agreed, pulling slowly out of her. “But right now, you have to go. I can’t think straight around you and I can’t let anyone use you against me.”

“I know.” She sat up, reaching for her coat on the floor.

“Chrissy?”

She turned her head.

He smiled. “The boots are great.”

“I know.”

He got up with her, fastening his jeans, and checked his phone before helping her into the coat and tying it around her waist. “I’m hoping this will be done by tomorrow. The day after at the latest. I’ll come and see you.”

She nodded.

He touched his forehead to hers. “You scared the life out of me coming here tonight. But I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.” She kissed his lips fleetingly. He took her hand, led her up the steps to the hatch and paused, his hand on the door.

Over the sounds of the sea, he could hear something else. A quiet, purring engine, coming closer. He bolted outside, every sense alert for presence on board or close by. Jesus, if he got caught with his pants down, if they took Chrissy…

There were no more cars parked by the harbour, and no people lurked anywhere near. But a car, an expensive, quiet car, was coming down the lane from the High Street. Its nose paused within his sight.

“Go quickly,” he said urgently to Chrissy, almost lifting her out of the boat, thrusting his house keys into her hand. “Go right past the church and if you see even a shadow of anyone lurking up there, run along to the B & B, and into my flat. Lock the door and phone Glenn to come and get you. Go, Chrissy!”

Her eyes wide, she glanced wildly from the car back to him, conflict tearing her apart.

“You have to
trust
me,” he said intensely.

“I do,” she whispered, and with the tiniest flicker of a smile, she turned and ran lightly towards the church.

To his left, the car nosed carefully into the harbour car park. A black limousine with smoked windows. In spite of everything, his lips twitched.
Really? In Ardknocken?

Chapter Fifteen Aidan strained his ears but caught no break in the rhythm of her pattering boots. No cry, no thud. The limousine drew closer, driving straight towards his boat. The occupants must have seen Chrissy leave, but they didn’t seem to be interested. Thank God. This had been
far
too close. What the hell had he been thinking of, fucking her when the bad guys were closing in? If they’d been even five minutes earlier, ten…

He broke into a sweat. He needed to calm down. She was safe. And this was his job, his fucking loathsome job that he was bloody good at.

Shoving his hand into his pocket, he slid his fingers over the screen of his phone and pressed. He thought it connected, but he didn’t want to take the phone out to be sure. Nor did he want to dash below out of sight. They had to think he was working alone, and the most natural thing to do, having caught sight of the rarity of a limousine in Ardknocken, was to stand and watch and see who came out of it.

Len. Walking confidently and swiftly. He still thought he could salvage this, be the Mr. Big he dreamed of. He should have stuck to one-man embezzlement.

“Nice wheels,” Aidan said, amusement slipping into his voice. “You’ll get talked about. Brody will think you’re still dirty.”

“The car isn’t mine,” Len said impatiently. “I need a word with you.”

“I’m all ears.”

Len glanced significantly towards the cabin. “Inside.”

“Don’t your friends want to join us?”

“Trust me, you don’t want them anywhere near you. You and I can sort this out.”

Aidan stood back with an exaggerated bow, though he made no effort to help Len clamber on board. Len landed on deck, looking around him, then walked towards the cabin. Aidan let him lead the way. It would make him feel in control—although he couldn’t help hoping Len’s neck prickled with unease as Aidan followed him down the steps.

“Thing is,” Len said, looking around the cabin with interest, lingering on the rumpled bed, “some property’s gone missing.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Aidan lounged against the wall. He didn’t offer Len a seat, and the man clearly didn’t expect it.

“Are you?” Len said dryly. “Because somehow, PC Grieve, you’ve become our chief suspect.”

Aidan, who hadn’t been ranked a mere Police Constable for a long time, smiled. “Funnily enough, you were mine.”

Len’s eyebrows rose. “What did you suspect me of?”

“Nefarious doings. Chrissy’ll be pissed off if you drag the rest of them back into crime.”

“Chrissy,” Len said contemptuously. “Who cares? She can’t see what’s under her nose. She’s just some wee floozie, more interested in shagging than anything else. By what I hear, she’ll do it with anyone—although she’ll cry rape when she gets caught.”

Aidan’s fist tightened reflexively, although he managed to ice the fury before it got any further. It wasn’t a bad reaction for a man who’d just clearly slept with her, and he added Len’s insults to the score.

Aidan smiled. “She didn’t do it with you, though, did she? What do you think that says for your standing in the community?”

Len’s eyes flashed venom. He even took a step nearer Aidan, who went as far as to lift his shoulder off the wall—a reminder that Aidan was younger and fitter and that right now Len had no back-up.

Len halted, took a deep breath. “I’m not here to exchange insults or women.”

“Then do us both a favour and get to the point.”

“The missing property. I think you took it.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“You’ve got a boat, and you’re the only idjit who does
and
goes sailing for pleasure in January. At night.”

“Who says I went out at night?”

“My associates. Who spoke to you earlier today.”

“They in the limo too?” Aidan asked, grinning.

“Oh no, there’s someone a lot scarier in there. Several, in fact. So do yourself a favour and tell me where the property is. We’ve not got long before my friends get impatient.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Len slammed his fist against the wall. It didn’t look like a scare tactic. Len was rattled. “Don’t be a moron, Grieve! These guys really do cut people’s legs off, just to make a point! And the consequences of you nicking their gear is a point they
really
want to make. Me, I want to run a business from up here. I want a quiet life for that, no more shootings, no maimings, no cops, and my friends in the limousine are happy enough to deal with me. But make no mistake, Grieve, they don’t need me, not yet. They don’t care what noise they make in this sleepy village. They’ll slice you up, kill you slowly and horribly for everyone to see—for
honour
, not for ten fucking kilos of heroine.”

Aidan met his gaze steadily, and Len came closer, ramming his point home. “You’re just a retired cop with a grudge and an angle. You’re out of your depth and your only chance is to tell me.”

Aidan smiled. “Except I appear to be holding all the cards. If I have something you want.”

“Fuck, how stupid are you? Stop worrying about what I want and consider what
they
want. They’d
rather
kill you than not. I’m your only way out. Tell me where it is now and they’ll leave you to me.”

Aidan shrugged. “I might like them better than you.
They
might like
me
better than you.”

Len’s eyes widened. “Is that your angle? You want to take over from me? Who the hell works with an ex-cop?”

“You’d be surprised,” Aidan murmured.

Len stared at him a moment longer, a whole tangle of thoughts and fears crossing his face. Len was out of his depth too and beginning to recognize the fact, although not, perhaps, the reason. Then his eyes cleared, as if he’d made a decision, one Aidan could guess at
: I’ll kill you later.
Probably, he’d get Black to do it.

“Well, keep yourself alive long enough to run that by them,” Len said. “You’ve proved you’re a smart, sneaky bastard to all of us. Now tell me where it is.”

“Oh fuck off,” Aidan said tiredly. “You’re full of shit.”

Á shout of pure frustration escaped between Len’s teeth. He grabbed Aidan by the sweater. “Listen, you stupid—”

“One second,” Aidan interrupted. “Just one.”

In fury, Len released him, throwing his arm into the air. And then came the sound Aidan had been waiting for. Boots thudding onto the deck above. However it went, this was the bit he really wouldn’t like. He just hoped he could make it play out in his favour.

“Let’s go,” DI Davidson said, shoving his chair back from his desk and standing up.

“Where to?” asked the newest of his team.

“Ardknocken. Either I’ve just been butt dialled, or Undercover Man’s hooked our fish. Ames, we need him tracked. Keep all lines of communication open.”

“What are we looking at?” Graham, his second in command, asked as they hurried out to the van.

“Absolutely no idea. If it goes well, probably a major drugs bust relating to the contaminated heroin deaths, plus our murderer.”

Graham climbed in after him. Under cover of the general noise of departure, he murmured, “You trust this guy?”

Davidson shrugged irritably. It wasn’t his nature to trust sneaky bastards. Still… “Word is, he has a track record of results,” he said reluctantly. “Plus, it’s worth taking a chance. We score here,
we
get the credit.”

Graham grinned. “Downside of being Undercover Man.”

He may have called Black from Eastern Europe, but Aidan guessed he was South American, possibly Columbian. Accent and appearance both suggested it. Even his underlings looked as if they ate men like Glenn Brody for appetizers. He wouldn’t have to pretend to be frightened.

“Quick!” Len hissed in his ear as several men entered the cabin and stood in a line behind their chief enforcer. “I can still swing it for you if you speak now.” Aidan spotted the desperation, the trickle of sweat on his shiny brow.

“Welcome aboard, gentlemen,” Aidan said. “Very glad to speak to someone of importance.”

The enforcer smiled thinly. “Oh, I doubt that. I believe you have something of ours.”

“I thought it was Len’s.”

“Until it’s paid for, it remains ours.”

“What’s the going rate for fifteen kilos of heroin?” Aidan asked innocently.

Len’s foot shifted as if he couldn’t help it, adding fuel to Aidan’s suspicions. But right now, it was Aidan who sounded like the extorter.

The enforcer smiled with what appeared to be genuine amusement and confirmed everything. “You want paid for fifteen when you only have ten. Initiative. I like that.”

He flicked up his hand, and two of the heavies marched up and seized Aidan by either arm. Even if he’d tried to, there wouldn’t have been chance to avoid it, especially as a third arrived right in front of him.

“Where is it?” the enforcer asked mildly.

“Payment first,” Aidan said. It would be expected, and they had to feel complete masters of the situation.

The heavy in front raised his fist.

“Body blows only,” the enforcer murmured. “Don’t want him trailing his bloody face through populated areas if we can avoid it.”

Oh fuck, here it comes.

“Trust me.”
She
did
trust him…

Just not to avoid getting hurt. Her mind heaved with speculations and plans. The trouble was, she’d no idea what wouldn’t make things worse for him.
He
wouldn’t be able to trust
her
if she interfered and ruined whatever it was he was up to. And yet she couldn’t do
nothing
while that sinister car skulked opposite his boat and he sent her away as if her life depended on it. What about
his
life?

No one had pursued her. She didn’t see a soul between the harbour and Ardknocken House. Maybe the bad guys weren’t so bad. Maybe Aidan was paranoid about her safety. She liked that idea best, although it didn’t bode well for a conflict free life together.

She needed to speak to Glenn. As she approached the front of the house, she contemplated using the fire escape which led up to the roof garden, and swerved around the side of the building. This would be quietest… Although she didn’t want to scare Jack.

Approaching the fire escape, she glanced up, hesitating, and a shadow moved on the flat part of the roof. It spoke volumes that fear closed up her throat. In Ardknocken, on Glenn Brody’s territory.

“Chrissy?” Glenn’s voice called softly. “What’s up?”

Relief made her shoulders sag. “Come down. Or will I come up?”

“Come up.”

She clanked up the fire escape as quietly as she could. Towards the top, since she’d run most of the way up from the village beforehand, her knees began to feel shaky.

“That’s some climb,” she whispered. “What are you going to do when you’re old?”

“Kick you all out and live on the ground floor,” Glenn said promptly. “What’s happening?”

“Aidan’s got visitors. Bad guys. I don’t know what to do.”

“What did he ask you to do?”

“Stay away. Come back here, and if anyone chased me to hide at the B & B and call you to come and get me.”

Glenn blinked, as if surprised by this measure of trust in him. “I take it you weren’t chased.”

“No, but—”

“Best stay away, then.”

“How can I?” she burst out. “What if they’re
murdering
him?”

“He won’t let it get that far. He’ll have the police at his back.”

“Do you think so?”

“No point, otherwise, is there?” Glenn said reasonably, and she had to admit he was right there at least.

Restlessly, she walked across to the table and chairs he’d set up in the midst of his garden. It didn’t thrive in winter. Too many dead sticks in pots to look good. But at least there was some greenery, and a lot of sky. The roof garden was the main reason Glenn had bagged his bedroom when he’d first come here, somewhere he could go quickly to remind himself he was free and able to go outdoors whenever he wanted.

She threw herself onto one of the chairs. Glenn wandered over to join her, though he didn’t sit, just stared out towards the sea.

After a moment, he stirred. “You serious about him, Chris?”

She smiled. “I suppose I must be. I put myself on the line to stop him leaving.”

He glanced down at her. “Leaving you or Adknocken?”

“Me. Ardknocken was always done for.”

Glenn was silent for a bit, then said, “You’ve got to take a chance sometime. If it matters.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Like when you danced with Izzy at Oban?”

She was sure colour bled into his face, but in the poor light from the study window, it wasn’t obvious. He just nodded curtly.

“I’m glad for you and Izzy,” she offered. “And Jack.”

He grunted, uncomfortable as always with personal conversation. She wondered if he ever told Izzy how much he loved her.

Glenn cleared his throat. “He’s all right.”

“Aidan?” She smiled. “For a polis?”

A smile tugged at his lips and vanished. “Aye.” He sank down in the seat beside her, and for a while they just sat in silence. In his calm presence Chrissy’s anxiety levelled down to bearable.

“He’s out cold,” the enforcer said in contemptuous Spanish. “You hit him too hard.”

Losing consciousness was the best means Aidan could think of to waste time. He’d really hoped to string things out a bit longer before they turned nasty, but he’d no intention of letting those bastards damage him beyond quick repair. So he’d thrown his head back with one of the blows and deliberately struck it on the wall before sagging between his captors.

They dropped him.

“He’s faking it,” said one of the thugs and aimed a judicious kick at the rib he’d already bruised to the point of cracking. Aidan didn’t even flinch, let the agony flow over him, through him. He could play dead as well as he could play any other part.

“Or not,” the enforcer said dryly and switched to English. “Don’t kill him until we get our drugs, remember?”

“He doesn’t kill so easily. He’s a fit man.” The moron was pleased to have laid out a fit man before his boss, even though the boss needed him compos mentis.