Beware the Wicked Heir

by Mara McQueen

  Milo trailed off. Olivia’s chest tightened and she took a deep pained breath.

  “I was out of it most of the time. At one point I even thought I heard another man next to us. A...chilling,” he said and visibly shivered, “deep voice. Like a—a nightmare demon come to life.”

  Olivia gulped. “Did you recognize the voice?”

  “No, because it wasn’t real. Couldn’t have been. The police said the same thing. I blacked out so much, I didn’t even feel most of the cuts…”

  Disgust crawled underneath Olivia's skin. That demon a girl had wanted to break Milo down. And what had he done in his despair and hallucinations? He hadn't given in. Hadn't given her what she'd wanted.

  “She used to make me beg for water. And I did. I begged until there was no more air in my lungs.” His palm wandered over to Olivia’s, covering it in a warm grip. “The only reason I’m alive now is because you found me.”

  Olivia licked her lips and squeezed Milo’s hand right back. Everything else disappeared—the hospital noises, the beeping machine, erratic children outside. “And you saved Mrs. Bolton’s. I don’t remember seeing that in the real estate job description. You deserve a raise.”

  They both chuckled with more vigor than they should’ve had. Peace. It was peaceful.

  After a while, Milo retracted his arm and shifted his back to lay down more comfortably. “So if you weren’t the biggest klutz to ever walk upright, I’d still be in that damp hell. So thank you for that.”

  “Says the man who spent days on end kissing an old woman’s ass.” Olivia wiped her tears away and sniffled as inconspicuously as possible.

  “Yes, well, not everyone is an eighteenth-century architecture savant, we have to make do.” He made a flamboyant hand gesture, grimacing at the movement.

  Olivia was, for lack of a better word, in awe of Milo.

  Silly, would-sell-his-own-underwear-for-a-listing, charming, loud Milo was a much stronger man than she could have imagined. If the roles had been reversed, Olivia would’ve been catatonic.

  Not him, though, no. The will to fight in him was much more potent than anything “Emma” had done to him. Though the mental scars would remain, that much was plain, the certainty of his recovery was obvious.

  “Now,” he said and raised one of his eyebrows. “Have you heard anything about my Jag?”

  Wicked

  As she walked to the other salon, Olivia felt that same pair of eyes that had been watching her all day burn in the back of her neck.

  She turned around, not bothering to hide her displeasure. The same man in the crisp suit and unwavering stare followed her.

  He didn’t have the desperate air of a nosy reporter. Insurance specialists usually announced themselves with unnecessary aplomb. And the likelihood of her trying to get killed two times in one day was considerably slim.

  Right behind the man, an equally inconspicuous woman appeared. She was wearing the tallest heels Olivia had ever seen, dressed in a perfect scarlet dress. She looked like efficient professionalism personified as she gazed daggers down at her phone.

  Fuck it. Olivia didn’t know who these two were, but there were more policemen in the hospital than in the town’s small station.

  She reared the corner, avoiding a passing patient in a wheelchair. Asking the attendants for direction proved totally unnecessary, as Martin’s fast-paced recounting of the events boomed down the hall.

  “She had that look in her eyes. Forgive me for saying so, but she looked...well...demented,” he said, gesturing wildly at the police officer in front of him. “Like she was going to kill Olivia. Tried to, at least.”

  Beside him, Sarah nodded solemnly, clutching Martin’s arm.

  The immaculate room had six beds in total. The one near the wall concerned Olivia the most.

  Kieran was sitting down, a grimace on his face, as a young doctor applied a thick layer of gauze to the wound on his ribs. He nodded a few times, giving monosyllabic answers.

  “Honey, you’re here!” Sarah exclaimed happily, beaming at Olivia. “We were so worried. Kieran said you were alright. Are you alright?”

  As soon as he saw her, Kieran got up, waving the doctor’s arms away from his body, and headed straight to Olivia.

  She leaned against the door, careful to hide the gash on her arm. “Perfect. A little hungry maybe. You?”

  “Frightened,” Martin said, budging into the conversation. “But you wait until we post our story on the forums. Everyone is going to go wild. We might sell the manor for you.”

  “Sir,” the police officer said, her sigh drawn out. “I already told you. You can’t reveal the case details to the general public.”

  Olivia didn’t pay any attention to Martin’s reply as Kieran stopped a breath away from her, his bruised arms engulfing her in a strong hug. She clung to him.

  For the first time in many years, Olivia felt the illogical need to be held. To be hugged until she melted away into the other person. To rest her head on a stronger shoulder. To have someone listen to her whispered fears and worries. And Kieran had given her that without a word.

  “Any news about Mrs. Bolton?” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. She inhaled deeply, reveling in his warmth.

  He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her more tightly. The bandage on his ribs groaned under the strain, but Kieran didn’t so much as blink. “She’s sleeping right now. I had a chance to chat with her for a bit and she seemed okay, all things considered. She wants to adopt a black cat when she gets out.”

  Olivia closed her eyes and hugged him tighter, uncaring who saw them.

  “How’s Underwood?” he asked.

  She gently splayed her hands on his chest, fingers steady over his heart. “He’s a fighter. If anybody can come back from this, it’s him.”

  “And you?” he asked, concern lacing his voice, as he gently trailed the gauze on her arm. He bent down and placed a chaste kiss above it, lips lingering on her skin.

  Olivia’s heart did that uncomfortable loop again. She tried to ignore it. She failed. “I’ll live. Thanks to you.”

  "No, thanks to you." Kieran rubbed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes with a deep, content sigh. “If you hadn’t come into my life, with that determined pinched face of yours—”

  Olivia’s mouth hung open in mock offense and she slapped the uninjured side of his chest playfully. “I only wore it to match that scowl of yours. You know you’re going to get wrinkles by the time you’re forty, right?”

  “—and proceeded to reprimand me five minutes into our conversation,” Kieran went on, undeterred, his smile growing with each word, “I would’ve been dead and Nan would’ve...still been with her.”

  “What did the cops say?”

  “The man I talked to was surprisingly reticent to give me information about a classified case,” Kieran said. “But I have my ways to get the information I need in a few hours.”

  A shudder wracked Olivia’s body. Good thing Kieran’s arms held her up. The exhaustion of the past hours was finally catching up to her, one suppressed yawn and watery eye at a time.

  “What? Darryl gave her the drugs?” Addie’s hysterical voice rung through the hallway. “Are you sure? I don’t care he didn’t know what they were for. Where is he? I want to see him. No, not to put our stories together, you fuckwad. To wring his fucking neck!”

  “Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” Kieran circled Olivia’s wrists and kept her palms glued to his chest.

  He took a step forward. Olivia took a step back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Without breaking contact, they made their way out of the room. A blush crept up her neck and she fought her grin from turning stupidly wide.

  They soon found a secluded nook of the hospital, with a few rigid chairs and a water dispenser pushed against one of the too-white walls. They sat down, with her bum on the rigid faux leather, and her legs sprawled over his lap. She didn’t care who saw or wrinkled their nose at them, she wanted to be close to
him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, looking deep into her eyes. “I’m sorry I paid off your student loans without discussing it with you. That was unforgivable, but I hope you can forgive me.”

  “I do.” The past few hours put everything into perspective. If Kieran hadn’t been by her side, she would’ve been doomed. Letting people in occasionally wasn’t as dangerous as she'd feared all her life. “On one condition—I get to pay you back.”

  Kieran didn’t look particularly thrilled at the idea, but nodded all the same. “If that’s what you want.”

  “In monthly installments. Without interest, of course.” She didn’t want this hanging over them, whatever the future held.

  And it seemed the future was on Kieran’s mind, too. “So...what are your plans after you get out of here?”

  What were her plans? Honestly, Olivia had thought about all her decisions from the past week. But she had no clue what she wanted to do tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or a year from now. But she knew she wanted Kieran by her side.

  “Grabbing a coffee and a huge stack of pancakes? Or whatever Nottinghamshire’s idea of fast breakfast food is,” she said, snuggling closer to him. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, her new favorite place. A hint of cologne still lingered on his bruised skin.

  Kieran nodded curtly, his eyes trained on the end of the hall. Following his gaze, Olivia saw the man and woman who had been trailing her most of the day. They mimicked Kieran’s nod before disappearing around the corner.

  “Ah, they’re yours.” Olivia sighed, letting her tiredness snuff out most of her curiosity. Most of it. “Coworkers?”

  Kieran laughed, the vibrations soothing to Olivia’s worn body. His hand ran up and down her spine. If he kept it up, she’d fall asleep, famished or not.

  “Associates.”

  “Well, my associates never stalk me in the hospital. I should consider switching careers.”

  He readjusted his position so that Olivia lay cradled against his chest. “It’s not all that great, I can assure you.”

  She bit her lip. God, why was talking so hard all of a sudden. “What about your plans? For, you know, the future?”

  Olivia didn’t know why her voice had wavered. Scratch that, she did. They were dancing around a tricky subject. Neither of them wanted to shatter the illusion that maybe there was a sliver of hope to—

  To what? See each other again? Go on a date? What did romantically—or, at least physically—involved people do after a life-threatening night?

  “I’d really like to meet this man Emma mentioned in her tirade. Have a nice long chat with him.”

  Olivia fidgeted in her seat. She raised her head and locked eyes with Kieran, seeing the resolve in them. Someone had hurt Mrs. Bolton, and Kieran was going after them.

  “How... close are you to meeting this man?”

  An unnerving glint appeared in Kieran’s gaze. “Haven’t bought the champagne yet, but close.”

  Wrong answer.

  “Dammit, Kieran.” Of all the things to concern himself with after risking his life, revenge shouldn't have been it. What happened to trust fund kids who spent their days travelling the world and getting drunk at every pit stop? "Why do you want to endanger yourself? Again?"

  “You remember that picture I gave Nan on her birthday?”

  Olivia nodded.

  “I found it when I went to her apartment to pack up her things, after she was already in the doctors' care.” He flexed his jaw. “Did you make out what was on the back? I know the writing was a bit shaky, but I’d recognize that lopsided ‘g’ of hers anywhere.”

  Olivia held her breath.

  “She knew I'd find it, that I'd see the writing. In her last moments of lucidity, she told me to go get them. That was the one thing she cared about. Her last wish. Now you tell me I shouldn’t honor it.”

  Olivia bit her lip and shook her head.

  “The only thing I can say,” she began, inching her head closer to his, her eyes never leaving his. “Is that the Boltons are not only paranoid, they’re a vengeful bunch as well.”

  Kieran chuckled and pulled her impossibly close.

  “Be careful,” she whispered into his neck, her thighs trapping his own legs underneath hers.

  “I will. You don’t have to worry, though. All I want is some evidence. I can get that sitting behind my laptop, brandy in one hand.”

  “Yeah, that sounds real healthy.”

  “And maybe,” he began, filling the split-second lull in the conversation. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a big gulp. “With someone by my side. Someone who’s not afraid to point out I’m maybe a bit self-involved. Someone who'd might enjoy a date now that we're free from that house. Know anyone like that?”

  If she hadn’t been sitting down, Olivia would’ve surely missed a step; probably fell down some stairs too. Though she already felt like she was falling. Or maybe it was flying, she couldn’t tell.

  “I hear this preacher in London is really big on criticizing people,” she said, hoping her voice didn't waver. “Don’t think he’s your type, but you can damn sure try to ask him out.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Anyone else?”

  “Kieran...”

  “Olivia.”

  “I want to.”

  “Good. I think that’s a requirement for a date,” he said, his voice losing some of its cheerfulness. “I wanted to talk to you about this when I drove you back to Leeds yesterday, but, alas, we're talking about it in a hospital.”

  Olivia licked her lips, breathing him in. Gorgeous, fantastic, amazing man. God, she wanted to say yes. With every fiber of her being. But it was all so complicated.

  “I’m really good at sexting, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

  Olivia laughed and pinched the good side of his ribs.

  “Oy. Careful, darling, I’m still recovering.”

  “You have Mrs. Bolton,” Olivia said at last.

  “And you have your job. But come on. We survived a taser-wielding lunatic. Think we can’t get over a few hundred miles?”

  Her trepidation ended abruptly when she realized she was smiling so wide at the mere idea of seeing Kieran again that it hurt her cheeks. She felt happy, for the first time in many, many years.

  She missed feeling that. She didn’t want it to stop.

  “Okay. Let’s try it,” she said. “Though, I have to warn you—”

  The rest of her self-deprecatory speech was swallowed up by Kieran’s urgent lips on her own, their bodies melded together. Olivia no longer felt the cuts and bruises on her body. She didn’t remember all the tunnels, the running, the shock, the despair, the violence. All she could feel at the moment was joy. The tiny little elating sparks of happiness.

  And she’d found it with Bolton Manor's wicked heir.

  THE END

  Afterword

  THANK YOU for delving into the BEWARE THE WICKED HEIR’s twisted world with me!

  If you enjoyed this book, I’d love to hear your thoughts. You can leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads.

  Want to be the first to find out what I’m writing next and get access to exclusive content? Sign up for my newsletter.

  Olivia and Kieran’s adventures are NOT over yet!

  Want to know how their wicked story ends?

  Check out the next books in the BEWARE THE WICKED LOVE contemporary gothic romance series:

  BEWARE THE WICKED NIGHT (BEWARE THE WICKED LOVE SERIES BOOK 1.5)

  A Contemporary Gothic Romance Novella

  AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE ON MAY 15TH

  BEWARE THE WICKED LOVE (BEWARE THE WICKED LOVE SERIES BOOK 2)

  A Contemporary Gothic Romance Novel

  AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE ON JULY 23RD

  Scroll down for an excerpt from the next book in the BEWARE THE WICKED LOVE series.

  Don’t forget to visit my Amazon page for my next books and series!

  Want to stay updated on my next releases?<
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  You can always find me via my website, Goodreads page and on Facebook.

  Mara McQueen writes hot and twisted Contemporary Gothic Romance. She loves her books with heart, heat, and humor and she's never written a bad boy she couldn't redeem.

  Her heroes are secretive, her heroines and stubborn, and when they meet on the page, sparks fly.

  When she's not writing, Mara can't resist a good cup of tea, a piece of decadent dark chocolate or Netflix marathons.

  Sign up for her newsletter to get access to exclusive bonuses such as deleted scenes and alternate POV chapters!

  To Marty and Renée, thank you for your help, patience, and encouragement. You’ve made me a better writer and I couldn’t have done it without you ladies!

  Are you in the mood for more steamy romance?

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  SCROLL DOWN to read the first chapter of BEWARE THE WICKED NIGHT

  BEWARE THE WICKED NIGHT

  A Contemporary Gothic Romance Novella

  BEWARE THE WICKED LOVE SERIES BOOK 1.5

  They both want forever.

  They only get one more day.

  Can their hearts survive this wicked night?

  Chapter One

  "I never understood how some people can eat blood and actually enjoy it," Olivia Abbate said as she dug into her black pudding like she hadn't eaten in a week. Well, come to think of it, what she had eaten for the past seven days barely qualified as food. "But, damn, does it taste good right now."