by Emma Slate
Alia was a gorgeous, smart, talented Asian burlesque dancer who’d been at the club for years. We had become good friends when I’d been working undercover and we still spoke frequently despite the ocean between us. “I think she’d be great at it,” I said sincerely. “She’ll have to know about Flynn’s affiliations and that the Rex Hotels are just fronts for the SINS.”
“She’s got a cool head. I doubt it would throw her, but she’ll want to tell Jake.”
Jake was Alia’s fiancé and head bartender at the club. “Maybe they should run the club together. You know, be a hot dynamic duo. Have you talked to Flynn yet about leaving?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t even told Brad. I wanted to come to you first.”
“Dip your toes in with me, eh?” I said with a smile.
Lacey chuckled. “Something like that.”
A server with a tray of smoked salmon on toast points strolled by. Lacey wrinkled her nose, but I plucked three from the tray and took a napkin. I thanked him and then he walked away to serve other guests.
“Yuck. I can’t believe you like that stuff.”
“It’s Scottish smoked salmon,” I said. “It’s amazing.” I popped a toast point into my mouth, savoring the salty ocean taste of the fish. A small moan of delight escaped my mouth.
Lacey shook her head. “Your kid really is ‘made in Scotland’.” She glanced away and sighed. I turned my head to see what had her sighing. Ash was leaning into Duncan’s side as they continued to play the role of charming hosts.
“Damn, they look like a Ralph Lauren ad. It’s nauseating.”
“Hmm,” I said noncommittally.
Lacey looked back at me and rolled her eyes. “Never mind, I forgot who I was talking to.”
“Sorry, I’ll try to be less happy and in love,” I joked.
“Don’t. The world needs more of that.”
I pulled out my phone from my clutch and sent Flynn a text. Game of hide and seek?
A moment later, I got a reply. At your friend’s rehearsal dinner?
It was a yes or no question.
Aye.
I let out a laugh, feeling flirty and sexy. I’ll give you a clue. I’m in a place with a lot of hangers and a door that closes.
I clocked it about three minutes until Flynn found me on the second floor, hiding in the coatroom. Hearing quick footsteps on the wood floor, I realized I was wrong. It had been only two minutes.
There was a slight rap on the door.
“What’s the password,” I called through it.
“She-devil,” Flynn said, causing me to laugh.
I opened the door to see my husband looming in the doorway. Flynn wasn’t standardly beautiful, but rough and wild like the Scottish Highlands. There was a magnetism that was uniquely him.
Sucking in a breath of air, I stepped back. He closed the door quietly. “No lock on the door,” he stated.
“Then we’ll have to be fast,” I said.
Flynn stalked towards me, a man ready to claim his woman. My body temperature spiked when his hands reached out to slide up and down my arms and then moved to cup my full breasts. His thumbs grazed my nipples over my dress before dragging his hands lower over my full belly. He grasped my hips. Leaning down, he kissed me.
I grabbed the lapels of his jacket as I flicked my tongue against his. His mouth lifted from mine and skated across the apple of my cheek, to my ear, down my neck. He nipped at my breasts through my dress, the teasing torment making me want more.
He gently maneuvered me so that I faced away from him. His hands ran down my sides and then he hiked up the back of my dress. I felt a brush of air on my exposed skin and shivered when Flynn’s fingers dipped into my underwear. He rubbed and pressed his fingers to my aching, sensitive body. I heard him unzip his zipper and felt the heat of him at my back. I leaned over and braced my hands on the wall to steady myself.
He pushed aside my underwear and the head of his shaft slipped into my welcoming entrance.
“Oh, God,” he gritted out.
I shuddered in pleasure as he continued to stroke me while sinking into me deeper and deeper. His other hand held me in place so I wouldn’t fall.
“Faster,” I commanded, feeling the flaming lust building in me until it had no choice but to explode. I gasped as wave after wave consumed me.
Flynn let out an animalistic grunt, finding his own release. With a few final thrusts, he rode out his pleasure, and then dropped his head to my back.
“You know how to liven up a party,” he muttered.
I chuckled and he moaned. Feeling him twitch inside of me, I silently crowed with feminine power.
“So do you, Flynn. So do you.”
After visiting the ladies room to straighten up my appearance, I let Flynn lead me back to the party. Lacey and Ash were talking and both of them looked at me with knowing eyes when I entered the room.
I shrugged as if to say ‘What of it’?
I never used to be the type of woman that would even consider doing something like that in public. Not that I’d ever been a prude, but I had been reserved. Time with Flynn, living in his world, exposed to all the things I had seen, had changed me.
If I wanted to have sex with my hot husband in a coat closet, then I was going to do it, damn it. Life was too short to care about what others thought of me. Flynn and I both had our brushes with death—so I was going to live every day loving and playing hard.
“Promise me something,” Flynn said as we stood in the corner of the party, the sounds of conversation and low music around us.
“Promise you what?” I asked.
“Promise me we’ll still do things like this in twenty years.”
“Have sex in ‘inappropriate’ places,” I asked, using air quotes.
He grinned. “Yes.”
“It might embarrass the hell out of our son—when he realizes his parents can’t keep their hands off each other.”
“It might embarrass him when he’s a teenager because you’re always embarrassed by your parents when you’re a teenager. But when he’s an adult, he’ll be glad his parents are randy for each other.”
I chuckled.
“My parents were like that,” Flynn admitted. He hardly ever spoke of his parents and I never asked about them. There were some things that even Flynn found too difficult to discuss.
“I never thought I’d have a marriage like them,” he said.
“We don’t have a marriage like them, Flynn. We have our own. And ours is just as unique and just as wonderful.”
Flynn leaned down to kiss me. “You’re so much more than sex in coat closets. You know that, right?”
“Oh, I know,” I said, with an impish grin. “I’m also sex in bedrooms. Have a coffee. You’ll need your energy later.”
Chapter 4
“How are you feeling?” Flynn asked me three hours later.
“I’m good,” I said, not at all lying.
“You sure? We can go if you’re tired.”
I reached up and cupped his cheek. “I’ve spent most of the night sitting in a chair. I’m good.”
He nodded and whispered in my ear. “Except for the time in the coat closet.”
I shrugged. “Prenatal exercise.”
Flynn laughed. “Do you mind if I go have a cigar with Duncan, Ramsey and Malcolm?”
“Not at all.”
He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. “Need anything before I go?”
I shook my head and then watched as he walked out of the room with the men who were his family. Ash was stuck in conversation with Duncan’s great-aunt Annis who was hard of hearing. At the moment she was giving Ash advice on how to conceive on her wedding night. I could hear her voice from across the room. Aunt Annis was also hard of sight so she didn’t see Ash’s horrified expression. Ash caught my eye and silently begged me to save her. Before I could, Jack Rhodes plopped down in a chair next to me.
“Don’t you dare,” he stated.
�
��Don’t I dare what?” I demanded.
He chuckled. “Don’t rescue her. I like seeing her squirm. She’s been on edge with me all week.”
“She’s a bride. Cut her some slack,” I pleaded. “I haven’t seen you all night. Where have you been?”
Jack shook his head. “I’m Ash’s brother, which means I have to be a Rhodes.”
“And that means what?”
“I’m an extension and I have to play a role.”
“Don’t we all?” I asked.
He shrugged and took a drink of his scotch. Jack and I had a falling out a few months after I had met Flynn. Though Jack and I had attempted to rebuild ten years of friendship in the last year, we still weren’t back to where we used to be. We might never be—Jack didn’t approve of Flynn or his affiliations. But it wasn’t his choice who I decided to share my life with. Just like he didn’t have a say who his sister married. Jack had said enough on the subject in the recent months; so much that Ash threatened to disinvite him to her wedding. He’d managed to hold his tongue after that. It was difficult since Jack liked to give his opinion freely.
“I need to find the restroom,” I said, moving to stand up. Gentleman that he was, Jack helped me to stand and then hugged me.
“I’m glad she has you,” Jack said into my ear. “Ash. I don’t think she really knows what she’s getting into and she’s going to need you.”
“You don’t just mean marriage, huh?” I pulled back and stared at his face.
“My parents are overjoyed,” he said slowly. “The Buchanans are one of Scotland’s oldest and most powerful families; that’s all my parents care about, Barrett.”
I nodded. “I know, but Ash is really happy. Try not to worry about her.”
“I worry about both of you,” he admitted. “You’re my family, too. You know that, right?”
His words were touching, and they tugged at the nostalgic part of my heart. The eighteen-year-old Barrett that had once been infatuated and in awe of Ash’s older, handsome brother was no more. But I loved Jack, and he was right—we were family.
“And you’re mine,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Now, I really do need to use the bathroom. The bairn is sitting right on top of my bladder and refuses to move.”
Jack snorted in amusement. “Bairn, huh? You’re so Scottish.”
I rolled my eyes. “Did you try the haggis yet? It’s delicious. No? What about the blood pudding?”
Jack’s face turned a bit green.
“What, you can eat foie gras and escargot but not haggis?” I demanded.
“Sheep intestines and oatmeal.” He shuddered and took another sip of his scotch. “How can a country make the best drink in the world but have the worst food?”
“Who needs food when you’ve got scotch. Am I right?”
“Cheers to that,” Jack said, raising his glass.
I made my way out of the room and into the hallway. I knew the way to the bathroom since I’d had to use the facilities twice before. I passed the young hostess that had nearly salivated over Flynn when we walked in. She was currently flirting with a young waiter working the rehearsal dinner.
Guess she’d already moved on. I tried not to hold her reaction to Flynn against her. He was magnetic, and it was impossible not to look at him. But he was mine, and I was carrying his child. Jealousy was not an emotion I was accustomed to feeling, but with every pound, stretch mark, and varicose vein, I grew more insecure.
I was ready to have my child out of my body and into the world. I wanted to meet him. And I really wanted to be able to sleep on my stomach.
As I was washed my hands after using the restroom, I thought about returning to the party, but realized I was done for the evening. I’d had enough social interaction. Without Flynn by my side, my energy had quickly waned.
I wandered down the hallway towards the kitchen area and heard the clanking of washing dishes and the sounds of spraying water. Past the kitchen was the back exit. I opened the door and slipped outside. It was chilly and goosebumps immediately dotted my skin, but I didn’t want to go back inside just for my coat.
I found my husband standing with Malcolm and Duncan on a grassy spot. The gas lanterns made it easy to see the path as I made my way to them.
Duncan puffed on his cigar, his head bent towards Malcolm who was saying something in a low voice. Flynn nodded along.
Realizing I was intruding, I turned around, but Flynn’s voice stopped me.
“Barrett!” he called. His dress shoes clopped towards me. After shrugging off his suit jacket, he wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Thank you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” I said, addressing all three of them.
“You’re not intruding, lass,” Malcolm said. “Join us.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. Needing no more words of encouragement, I joined their little entourage. I frowned. “Aren’t you missing one?”
Duncan’s grin was wide. “Ramsey found something far more pleasant than discussing politics with us.”
“A woman,” I stated.
Flynn cleared his throat. “Two.”
“You’re kidding!” I said with a laugh. The direction of the air changed, and I caught a whiff of smoke. It instantly made my stomach curl. I attempted to be discreet about moving my position, but Flynn noticed immediately and put out his cigar.
“It’s making her sick,” he explained to the other two.
When Malcolm and Duncan made a move to put their cigars out, I protested. “Don’t stop on my account. I’ll go back inside.”
“We’d rather have you out here with us than smoke these things,” Malcolm assured me with a pat on my shoulder.
I smiled and nodded. “So what are we talking about?”
“The London hotel and how well it’s doing.”
Malcolm hadn’t originally wanted to open a hotel in London because he hated the English. Flynn pointed out that there was no better just dessert than using English money to free the Scots. It was genius, actually.
I loved Malcolm, but sometimes I wondered if he was really cut out to be leader. A leader needed to be able to see the whole picture and keep a calm head. Though Malcolm listened to those he trusted, he was still obstinate and stuck in his ways. The fact was, he was old and when a leader got old, he got weak. It was simple biology.
Duncan was next in line to take over the leadership position, but he was known as The Tracker. He tracked enemies better than anyone else and he seemed comfortable in the role and deferring to his father and Flynn to make the bulk of the decisions. It was Flynn who really had Malcolm’s ear and had a hand in swaying him.
Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t realize Flynn was saying my name. “Sorry, what?” I asked distractedly.
“Are you tired, hen?”
I nodded. “I am. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
He gripped my hand and squeezed. “We’ll go now.”
I hugged Malcolm first and then Duncan and told them I’d see them tomorrow at the wedding. Flynn led me towards the tavern. “Are you really tired?” Flynn whispered so Malcolm and Duncan didn’t overhear.
“Yes,” I admitted. “But we have an hour drive in the car… perfect excuse to nap and get back my energy.”
Flynn chuckled and picked up his pace. Just as he was about to open the back door of the tavern, there was the sound of three loud pops. Before I could even register what was happening, Flynn pushed me down, his body covering mine.
My jaw rattled from hitting the ground, my heart rate accelerating. There was a lot of shouting and yelling, but I couldn’t see anything due to Flynn’s large body obstructing my vision.
He looked around to assess the situation and when he deemed it safe enough, Flynn slowly lifted his body from mine and held out his hand and lifted me from the ground. “Stay here,” he whispered.
I nodded and watched him sprint to the grassy area where Malcolm and Duncan had been standing. I didn’t see them; anxiety and fear
rolled through me.
“Barrett!” Flynn called from the darkness. “I need you!”
I tried to hurry towards his voice, but my body ached from landing on the solid stone walkway. When I got to the grassy patch, I saw Flynn kneeling by a still form, his hand pressed to a chest. I slipped on the dewy grass and fell to my knees. Bracing my hands on the ground, I crawled the last of the way. A shaft of moonlight peeked out from behind the gray storm clouds to light the way.
It wasn’t rain that made the ground slippery—it was blood.
“Barrett,” Flynn said, his voice sounding very far away. “Barrett!”
I looked up from my bloody hands into Flynn’s intractable, harsh face.
“Come here,” he commanded. “Take my phone. Call for an ambulance.”
The fight instinct came over me and I rushed to Flynn. I reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his cell phone. While I dialed, I looked down and saw he had his hands on Duncan. Duncan’s pallor was pale as Flynn tried to stem the flow of blood seeping out of his surrogate brother’s chest wound.
“Malcolm?” I asked.
Flynn’s eyes were grim. “Dead.”
Chapter 5
When we got to the hospital, Duncan was rushed into emergency surgery. After scrubbing my hands to remove the blood, I got checked out by the doctor. I’d hit the ground hard when Flynn protected me with his body. The baby was fine and so was I except for a few bruises.
Now, I sat in the waiting room, clutching Ash’s hand. She looked completely shell-shocked; she hadn’t said more than two words since we’d arrived.
Flynn was in the corner of the waiting room on his phone, snapping orders and jumping into the natural role of leader. Duncan’s younger brother Ramsey was nowhere to be found and his phone kept rolling to voicemail. Flynn shoved his cell into his pocket and looked at me.
I nodded and squeezed Ash’s hand before letting go. Flynn and I walked out of the waiting room that was filled with Ash’s nucleus family and Duncan’s relatives. To say the mood was somber was generous. Malcolm was dead; he’d been shot in the head, and his son was fighting for his life.