“Why, Tate,” she says, her hand resting teasingly on my bicep. “Are you… jealous?”
I grunt again.
“You are! You’re bloody jealous!”
“Course I bloody am,” I mutter. “Fuckin’ wanker didn’t deserve a crumb from your table, much less what he had.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was bloody awful in bed.”
That actually does make me feel better. “Aye?”
“Och, aye. The bugger couldn’t last for longer than thirty bloody seconds. Couldn’t find a G-spot if it had a spotlight. Even when he went down—”
“Yeah, we can change the fuckin’ conversation right about now.”
She grins. “He just did this weird thing with his tongue like he was—”
“Swear to God, Fran, you push this subject, I’ll bloody pull this car over, whip your arse until you scream for mercy, then show you exactly what a real man does with his tongue.”
She pauses a beat, and when she speaks, her voice is all husky. “That’s supposed to… stop me?”
“Yes, it’s supposed to bloody stop you.”
But I’m already hard, already imagining the wicked things I could do to her right here, right now.
“Might need to try harder than that,” she mutters. Then she grows contemplative. “Do they have a bed on that plane?”
I fucking love this woman.
“Aye, of course, but the flight’s like seventy-two minutes long.”
“Oh, we don’t need longer than that.”
Of course I need bloody more than that. I need all damn night.
“Incorrigible.”
“You’re fond of that word when it comes to me. Let me help you out with a few more. Unreformed. Irredeemable. Beastly!”
I snort. “Beastly? One of these things is not like the other…”
She gives me a playful smile.
I feel like we’ve been on a rollercoaster ride, one moment to the next. I wonder where we’ll land when the ride is over.
I hate the thought of her going home. I hate the thought of waking up every day to an empty bed, not when I’ve shared it with the likes of her. I hate the thought of anyone else, fucking anyone, ever touching her again.
She’s mine now. All mine. I’ll put a ring on her finger and take her back home to my place. She might not know it yet, but there’s time.
“So what are you going to do when you find him?”
“Ask him a few questions.”
She works her lip for a minute. “‘Asking questions.’ Will that entail things like…torture?”
“Depends on how cooperative he is.”
“Oh, dear.”
Does she still have feelings for the bloke? Bloody hell.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
She gives me a curious look, as if thinking over what she wants to say. “Makes it hard responding right away when I’m committed to nothing but the truth.”
I nod. “You’re afraid I’ll hurt him?” I bloody well will, but I might be able to shield her from it.
“Afraid you’ll hurt him? Oh, no, Tate, you misunderstand.” She leans in a little closer to me, her hand resting dangerously high on my thigh. “I want you to hurt him. I’m afraid watching you hurt him might do strange, unexpected things to me.”
“Unexpected things?”
“I’ll want to jump your bloody bones.”
“Unreformed,” I utter, shaking my head, and she laughs out loud.
“What might he have had access to when you were together?”
She thinks this over with a grimace. “Oh, God, I hadn’t thought of that. My phone… my laptop. I guess everything, really.”
I nod.
“I can’t believe I was so damn stupid. I let him trick me like an arse. How did I never suspect everything he told me was a lie?” She shakes her head, her voice a bit tremulous. “I can’t believe I was taken like that.”
“I don’t think it’s all that complicated. He told you everything you wanted to hear. He paid attention to you. He gave you what you thought you wanted.”
“I thought I was better than that.”
“Don’t underestimate the effects of a con artist, sweetheart.”
Her lips tip up. “I like when you call me that.”
I reach for the back of her neck and squeeze gently. Her eyes flutter closed, and she sighs, as if relishing my touch.
She leaves her hand resting on my thigh, warm and reassuring, and I’m tempted to pull this car over. She’s right. We won’t need more than the seventy-two minute flight, not this time.
We arrive in Inverness Centre and park. I frown at the weapons I have in the boot and decide on a discreet Glock and a knife. As much as turning her on at the sight of violence appeals to me, might be a bit easier if it doesn’t come to that.
I call William, our Clan brother who will lead me through the logistics of everything. “He’s here?”
“Aye, brother. At the bar. Bartender’s been paid well, show him your ink but be quick about it. You don’t want to linger.”
We don’t. In, out, on the plane.
I hang up the phone and take Fran’s hand. “We’ll not cause a scene. We’ll ask our questions and take it from there. Follow my lead.”