Like Honey (19 page)

W
hen he left the cottage in the morning, Jennifer kissed him. It was the sweetest, warmest kiss. Her green eyes met his and she said, “Hurry back to me, Gray.”

Thinking of her eyes, her voice, well, the whole package, made his balls convulse. That woman.

As he pulled into the community center, he noted a fair-size crowd of cars in the parking lot. A community center was an odd place for a memorial service, but the church was still strict on matters like suicide. When he exited the truck he heard a group of folks talking about Liam. They were standing in the parking lot, milling around.

“It's pretty clear what he wanted,” one woman said. “He wanted to be buried in that mausoleum with his real father. It's a shame.”

Interesting. Seemed like everybody here knew about Liam's parentage. Did Ren? Did he know that he had a half brother? It seems like if he knew that would have been something he'd have mentioned to Jennifer.

“Hello, young man.” It was his grandmother. Shit.

“Hi, Nan,” he said, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek, smelling the faint floral scent she had dabbed behind her ears.

“I'm working here, Nan,” he whispered.

She pulled away from him and shot him a quizzical look. Then nodded. “I have information for you,” she said, pulling him in to her again. “The book you gave is a history of the D'Amicos. The real history. They are not Italian. It's all fake.”

Just then his phone beeped.
Damn.

“Just a minute, Nan.” It was a text from Kasey.

 

 

 

“I've got to go,” he said to his grandmother. “We'll talk later.”

She nodded. “Yes, we will,” she said with a note of reproach, then turned to enter the building, passing Kasey without a glance.

When Kasey emerged from the hall, Gray drew in a breath. She was dressed to the hilt, all in black, in a dress that showed off her curves, long neckline, and full breasts. His eyes swept along the length of her.

“You look great,” he said nonchalantly.

She laughed. “Thanks, Gray.” She grabbed his hand, leaned into him, and kissed him on the cheek. “We are a couple, remember?” she whispered to him.

“Yes,” he said, then cleared his throat. Despite himself, at this moment, he just remembered fucking her. Vividly.

And why shouldn't he? Jen seemed disinterested when she found out that he'd be moving on. A hardness formed in his chest. But there was that sweet little kiss—more friendly than anything. He'd tried to do right by Jennifer. But Kasey was there in the parking lot, and in a swirl of emotions he didn't understand, he pulled Kasey close and pressed himself into her and gave her a long, lustful kiss. He immediately regretted it. He knew right then and there that whatever had existed between the two of them was gone.

Not so for Kasey.

She slowly pulled away, her eyes smoldering. “Gray. What you do to me.”

He smirked. “We better get inside, boss, or I'm afraid I won't be responsible for my actions.”

Then he felt the oddest sensation—Gray felt someone looking at him. He turned.

“Hello,” the auburn-haired woman said. “Are you Gray McGhilly?”

“Yes,” he said, thinking she looked vaguely familiar. “And you are?”

“My name is Maeve Flannery,” she said. Her face was stone cold. She'd seen him and Kasey, wondered what the hell was going on. Shit.

“M-Maeve?”

She crossed her arms. “I thought I'd find Jen here.” She gave Kasey one glaring look and went back to looking at Gray.

“Jen's out of town,” Kasey said.

“She is?” Maeve said. “She usually tells me when she leaves.”

“Shhh,” Gray said, pulling at her arm.

“Don't you touch me! I want to know where she is right now!” This woman meant business and didn't care who turned to look at her. At them.

The few people still in the parking lot turned and looked their way.

This was so not what he needed.

“Gray, why don't you take Maeve into the truck and talk with her. I'll save you a seat inside, darling,” Kasey said coolly.

“I'm not getting in the truck with him,” Maeve said.

Gray's face reddened. “Maeve,” he whispered. “Come with me, please. The longer we stand here, the more trouble you may create for Jennifer.”

“Okay,” she said after thinking it over, and followed him to his truck. He opened the passenger side and she slid in. She was a large woman, full of curves and luscious skin.

“What gives?” she said when he got in.

“Is Jennifer expecting you?”

“No. I smelled trouble. Sanj told me who you are and I can't reach her. I want to know where she is and I want to know now,” she said, her amber eyes wide and full of strength.

“She's at my place, hiding. The locals think she's left town. That's what we want them to think.”

“Why?” She leaned in and tilted her head.

“We just think she's safer out of the way.”

“What's going on?”

“I'm really not at liberty to discuss everything with you,” he told her. “But it might be best if you just go back to the States.”

“Best for who? Homeland Security? Or Jennifer?” she said with her voice raised, her arms crossed. He might have known a friend of Jennifer's would be difficult.

“Both. We need you out of the way.”

“Well, Gray, there's not a snowball's chance in hell I'm getting back on that plane until I see Jennifer.” He detected a slight Virginia drawl. He couldn't help laughing.

“Okay,” he said. “But just give us a few days.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because we are getting ready to make the biggest drug bust in Scotland's history. If I were you, I wouldn't want to be here.”

“But what about—”

“I'm taking care of Jennifer.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I saw how you were taking care of her while you were sucking face with that woman.”

“That woman is my boss and we are undercover. A couple.”

“Bullshit. Humph. You may be undercover, but I know a turned-on woman when I see one.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. No point in arguing with her. What she said was true. If they had been alone Gray was certain nothing else would have happened. He'd have stopped it. But he didn't have to prove shit to Maeve. “I need to get inside. Do you want to come with me and we can all chat afterward?”

“Sure,” she said.

When they walked into the room, most people were seated. Gray scanned the crowd and took a mental note of everybody that was present. As far as he could see, there was only one person missing.

“Kasey?”

“Yes? Are you sure nobody knows where Jen is?” His voice quavered, betraying him.

“That's what I've been hearing in the pub and shops and so on,” she said.

“Because Cullen isn't here.” He tried harder to keep his voice even, but his heart was racing.
Everything had been going so well.

“Fuck,” she said, jumping up from her seat.

“What?” Maeve said.

But the two of them didn't offer any explanation. They just ran to his truck, Maeve slipping in beside Kasey.

J
ennifer busied herself with cleaning up after breakfast. The cottage was without a dishwasher, of course, so she washed all the dishes and pans by hand. She found herself kind of liking it, but she knew it was an oddity. If she had to do it every day, she'd hate it.

She plugged in her laptop because the battery was getting low. She clicked it on and scrolled through her many e-mails.
Delete
.
Delete
.
Delete
. She decided to set up an out-of-town bounce back on the account.

Then she saw an e-mail from Maeve.

Jennifer's cell phone had been giving her trouble. For some reason it went straight to voice mail. She'd have to have the thing looked at.

Oh, there was an e-mail from Sir Cullen.

She wasn't interested in selling to him before, and she certainly was not interested in it now. When she thought he might be the man who'd been running drugs through her property, she shivered. It was a horrid thing to do. Selling drugs was bad enough, but to involve unsuspecting bystanders was just evil.

Next she decided she needed a shower and went into the bathroom, then realized they just left the towels scattered about. She folded them and placed them back in the small cupboard. Amazing what they had just found there. All that money. And the books.

After she was finished with her shower, she wrapped up in one of those towels and wandered into the living area, where her laptop was. She searched through Gray's dresser for a T-shirt. Then she spotted it: the mask. She picked it up and watched as it gleamed in the light, that same green-gold glint that captured her attention that night at the Mead Maker's Ball. It was Gray! He was her masked man! How could that be?

She laughed out loud in the empty room, threw the mask on the bed, and got dressed in Gray's T-shirt, along with her own jeans. She continued to giggle as she dressed. It was Gray all along—her masked almost-lover. She should have known—the chemistry she had been trying to deny because she thought there was no hope for a relationship. Oh, well, fuck it. Who said a man and a woman had to marry or have a long-term relationship to enjoy one another? Certainly not her friend Maeve—who was now married, but still. She gathered her strength. Destiny was leading her to this man, and she just needed to trust the universe, throw caution to the wind, and allow things to unfold naturally.

She couldn't deny what she felt any longer.

She heard footsteps approaching the cottage. Gray! He must have returned!

What would he do when he found out that she was the woman he almost had sex with that night?

Thrilled, elated, and laughing, Jennifer flung open the door. There stood Sir Cullen, grinning lasciviously.

“I knew I'd find you here. You should really be more careful with your affairs, Mrs. D'Amico.”

Gasping, she pushed hard to close the door. But he stopped her and shoved his way in.

“I suggest you cooperate,” he said tight-mouthed as he held up a gun.

She threw her hands in the air. “What do you want?” she said through suddenly shivering teeth. She could not stop shaking.

He pushed her and she fell to the floor in a heap. “First, I'll start with that huge stack of money. Rightfully mine. Then you will sign this contract, wherein you sell me this land. Then, well . . . We'll just have to see.”

She stood up, her knees wobbly, stomach lurching, and faced him.

“Just what the hell are you doing? What is going on? Why would your money be in this cottage?” Jennifer said as she looked around for a weapon.
Anything. What could she use as a weapon?

“I'm not going to answer your questions,” he said. “It will no longer be your concern once you sign the papers and everything is over.”

She knew by the tone of his voice that he meant to kill her—or have her killed. She had to get to that poker. It was the only weapon she could spot. But it was about eight feet across the room!

She needed a distraction.
How was she thinking so clearly?
She was shaking, her heart was racing, and her life was in jeopardy. But her brain zoomed in on survival. She needed to get to that poker and she needed a diversion in order to do that. She looked down, then looked over to the couch, her belt still lying there. She pictured it in her head
. Creative visualization—just like Sanj had taught her. Think it through before you act. Plot it out.
One quick flick of her belt across his face, run and get the poker, and smack him over the head with it. Then run like hell away from him. She breathed in and envisioned how it would go down.

And that's almost exactly what happened. The element of surprise overtook him as she snapped her belt across his face, ran for the poker, and smashed him hard in the face. Blood splattered from him as he yowled. He lurched forward and tripped over his own feet, coming down on his head, which made a sickening thud on the stone floor. He no longer moved.

Neither did Jennifer.