To Shackle a Shrew (Southern Sanctuary Book 7)

by Jane Cousins

  “I hope you like white wine? They stock some great South Australian labels here.” Devon looked towards Monique. “And the food is quite good, I usually have the fish of the day.”

  “I appreciate the recommendation.” Monique’s lips quirked up at the edges, amusement dancing in her eyes.

  Devon found herself liking the woman instantly, seems like she had a sense of humour, which was more than could be said for Bryant. A petulant look having settled over his blandly handsome features. Hold on, not bland, okay so his eyes weren’t a clear aquamarine colour, and there was no cocky twinkle in their depths. But it was clear the man took great pride in his appearance. The Merrow’s hair was perfect, perhaps a little too perfect, how much product did the man use? Hmm, and the same could be said of his eyebrows, did he pluck them? And he was more than a little heavy handed on the cologne front.

  Bah, so the man had good grooming. That should make her happy, not disappointed. Okay, so he would probably hog the bathroom mirror, but she could always add on a second bathroom. And if she asked politely, maybe he’d give her the name of his skincare range. See, all good. He was back in the number one spot.

  The wine arrived, bought to the table by Nico. Pouring out the liquid the bartender offered her a wink before departing. Cheeky fellow. She glanced over at Bryant who had thankfully stopped pouting and was now studying the menu as if his life depended upon it.

  “So, Bryant. What is it that you do?”

  Bryant glanced up, gave her a defiant glare, picked up his glass of wine and gulped down half its contents before returning his attention to the menu.

  The silent treatment? Really? At his age? How unattractive. But she could break him of that habit, with time. She shifted her attention to Monique and raised her left eyebrow.

  Monique hadn’t quit smiling since she sat down. “He told me he was a record producer, back in Los Angeles.”

  Oh, please say classical music, grandmother would be thrilled. Not that she was the one who had to marry the man. “What kind of music do you produce?”

  Bryant flicked his eyes up, shot Monique a death glare and then transferred that glare to Devon. “Kids music.”

  That explained the expensive suit, shoes and haircut. The children’s music business was a booming one. “Do you do DVDs as well?”

  “Yes.” Bryant grunted out the word, finished off his wine and poured himself another glass.

  The two women exchanged pointed looks before both rolled their eyes, men could be such babies.

  “So Monique, tell me, what’s Bryant like in bed?”

  Bryant choked on his wine, spluttering and spitting.

  Monique just threw back her head once more and laughed.

  “You can’t ask her that.” Bryant dabbed at his mouth and then his tie with a napkin. “Why would you ask her something like that?”

  Devon shrugged, giving him a wide eyed innocent look, not an expression that came to her naturally. “You didn’t bring Monique with you as a character reference?”

  “Of course not. She’s a hooker.” He cast Monique another hard glare. “The last thing I’m paying her for is to talk.”

  “Now, now.” Devon didn’t like his tone. “You invited Monique to have lunch with us, good manners never go out of style and you can’t expect her to just sit there and say nothing.”

  “Yes, I can.” Bryant sent Monique another clearly threatening glare.

  “Calm down.” Monique shook her head, her lips twitching, obviously fighting the urge to laugh. “We have a business arrangement, one that guarantees privacy and discretion.”

  Bryant blew out a silent thankful sigh, scooping up his wine glass again.

  “But you can talk generalities right?” Devon was enjoying prodding Bryant’s slick façade, and he’d bought along the perfect ammunition for her to use, Monique. “I mean pricing. You hear things, can you really make good money as an escort?”

  Bryant snorted derisively.

  Monique shrugged. “My ex left me drowning in debt. His debt, but under my name. I’ve been doing this for nine months and have almost made enough to pay to go back to university to finish my degree in neuro-ophthalmology.”

  “Hey.” Devon smiled widely. “I’m an Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist at the Bondi Wellness Clinic down in Sydney.”

  Bryant cleared his throat to interrupt, snapping his fingers above his head to get attention from the wait staff. “I’m hungry, let’s order.”

  Once Riordan had left after taking their orders, Devon turned her attention once more back to Monique, a much more interesting luncheon companion than the sullen Bryant who was steadily drinking his way through the bottle of wine she’d ordered.

  “So, back to pricing. Ball park figure. How much would something like this trip cost?”

  Monique tucked a short glossy black curl behind one ear. “The client pays for all the travel. Same goes for accommodation, we spent last night in a lovely little place one town over… Reverie Valley, artsy but nice. We’re heading back there tonight and Bryant will drive us back to Brisbane tomorrow, our flight leaves in the afternoon. So effectively for four nights and three days of work I earn…” Monique named a figure.

  Wow, that was a lot of money. Wait, this was a Merrow they were talking about here. “Do the clients pay up front?”

  “Always.”

  Devon out of the corner of her eye noted Bryant shifting uncomfortably in his seat once more… uh-oh. “Would you do me a favour?” She looked at Monique. “Would you double check your bank account to make sure his transaction cleared?”

  “Sure.” Monique pulled a top of the line mobile phone out of her clutch and started tapping.

  Devon kept a careful eye on Bryant, he was too tense, something was definitely up. Discreetly, under the cover of the table, one of her loose curls undulated slowly in Bryant’s direction, poised and ready to strike.

  “What the… my account! It’s been cleaned out.” Monique’s dismayed cry coincided with Bryant’s abrupt attempt to flee, cut short as he bounced back down hard on his chair, imprisoned in place by a lock of Devon’s hair tying his left ankle to the chair leg.

  “Never trust a Me… a man with your bank details.” Devon glared at Bryant.

  “It’s gone. Oh God.” Monique’s expression was torn between horror and shock. “What did you do? Where’s all my money?”

  “You bitch.” Bryant tried futilely to free his leg from the chair. “Let me go.”

  Devon badly wanted to take Bryant out, but she hesitated to use any of her magic. Monique was a mundane. Bad enough she was using her hair to keep him in place, though she doubted Monique in her shock in discovering what Bryant had done realised just how she was keeping him trapped. Sweet Yami, what could she do?

  Her prayer was answered as Monique suddenly shot out of her chair and clocked Bryant, hard, with a solid fist to his perfectly shaven jaw. “Take that, you bastard.”

  Two minutes later Bryant was tied to the chair with the plastic zip ties that Devon kept in her purse, a napkin stuffed in his mouth. A fresh bottle of wine was on the table, and Monique had her sore hand resting in an ice bucket.

  “So…” Monique sent Bryant an evil look before turning her attention to Devon. “You wanted to know what Bryant’s like in bed….”

  * * *

  Liam blew out a breath. Focus, that’s what he needed right at this moment. He needed to push all negative thoughts away; the weird numbness of his back and butt, along with the memory of all the irritating knowing smirks Nabha had been sending him all afternoon, her mobile phone ringing off the hook. He needed to pay attention, thousands of dollars’ worth of photographic equipment was spread out on the outdoor table in front of him. Picking up a tiny brush he teased open the back of his favourite camera and started to clean the insides.

  Come on, get with the rhythm man. The mid-Spring afternoon was warm an overcast, and if anything a little bit humid. The sound of the water as it lapped against the dock should be s
oothing. Yet all he could think about was the fact that Devon was on a date. And not just on a date with any old schmoe, no, she was on a date with one of his dimwit asshole half-brothers.

  By the Trident, what had he been expecting? That Devon would put on hold her plan to honour the betrothal contract just because she was attracted to him? And she was. He got under her skin. He knew it like he knew instinctively how to breathe.

  He could tell by the way her lips quirked as she struggled not to laugh when she was with him. The way he could punch through her default angry façade and really prick her temper. And let’s not forget the most important piece of evidence of all, the fact she hadn’t killed him yet or dumped his body on the nearest beach.

  Though honestly, why should she put her marriage plans on hold? He wanted to sleep with the woman, he didn’t want to marry her. Okay, so he was liking less and less the idea of her being stuck in a decade long marriage with one his skeezy half-brothers, but better one of them than him, right? He was a free-wheeling, can’t be tied down, no hassle of having a home, goes where the current takes him, kind of guy.

  Being of no fixed address made it a lot harder for his father or any of his brothers to find him and ask for a loan, steal his belongings or turn his friends and colleagues against him with their lies and general insistence of living the Merrow code.

  Which was pretty much the reason he didn’t do commitment to places or to people. His longest relationship had lasted three weeks and that was only because they’d been snowed in.

  Irritated by where his thoughts had taken him Liam shifted on the bench seat and let out a sharp breath. Damn, his butt might be numb but it still hurt, quickly he leaned forward once more, resting the majority of his weight on his upper thighs, the position made even more challenging by his recently broken right leg. But he’d be damned if he’d spend another day in bed.

  More importantly, with him situated out on the deck Devon couldn’t possibly ignore him when she finally got home. He still wasn’t quite sure he believed she’d been called in to the hospital first thing this morning for a consult. It certainly wouldn’t be uncharacteristic for her to try an avoid him.

  Snapping the back of the camera closed before he did any damage Liam began packing his equipment back into the carefully lined compartment in his saddlebag. His gut beginning to roil again. Just how long did a date take? The woman had been gone practically all day. He glanced towards the dark clouds racing across the horizon, the sun was going to set soon and he was pretty sure rain would be close on its heels. The strengthening breeze making the surface of the river ripple and slap loudly against the dock and stilts holding up the house.

  “What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Devon’s voice sliced through the moment.

  Liam’s head whipped around. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Devon’s snapping tone was met and matched by Liam’s snarling response. For a moment the two of them froze in silence, contemplating the other.

  Liam was sitting at the outdoor table, leaning the majority of his weight on his elbows from what she could tell. It still felt strange to her to be able to see his face without the blue goo, noting as the afternoon breeze laden with moisture ruffled his golden blonde hair so that it teased his forehead and the tips of his eyelashes. He was wearing loose dark grey cargo shorts, and nothing else. His right foot wrapped in seaweed once more, a crutch leaning against the bench next to him.

  Liam clenched his jaw as he contemplated Devon. She wore a burnt orange dress that clung to her lithe frame as the breeze tugged and played with the material. Her long legs were bare, and she held a pair of sandals in her hand, no wonder he hadn’t heard her sneak up on him. Her hair was loose and dancing in the breeze. She looked sophisticated, totally hot and a little… “Are you drunk?”

  “Could be.” She chuffed a little laugh and smiled at him.

  Liam inhaled sharply. Devon laughing? Devon smiling? Whoa, this was unexpected but what an opportunity. “You should sit down.” He gestured to the empty bench across the table.

  Devon frowned. “Um, no, I should probably have a shower or a swim.” She blinked slowly and looked around. “Where’s Nabha?”

  Liam grabbed his crutch and got awkwardly to his feet. “I sent her home. Storm’s coming and I didn’t need a babysitter.”

  Devon blinked again, hmmm, was she swaying or was that her hair? What had she been going to do again? Liam was bare-chested… her gaze locked onto his chest, it really was a nice chest.

  “Come on Princess, take a seat. I’ll get you some water.”

  Liam hobbled past her to the kitchen, frowning slightly, had she…? No, for a moment there it felt like she’d reached out and trailed warm fingers down his ribcage. But when he glanced her way she was knotting her hair back into a loose pony tail and headed towards the vacant bench seat.

  Naughty, untrustworthy hair… Devon plopped down hard on to the bench and wagged a finger at a wayward lock of hair that had just tried to cop a feel of Liam’s heated bare flesh. Tightening the knot she pushed her hair back over her shoulder, looking up as Liam hobbled back on to the deck carrying two glasses and a large bottle of sparkling water.

  “So how was your date?” Liam enquired, settling gingerly back down on his own bench across from her.

  “Great.” Devon accepted a glass and drained half its contents, ah, refreshing.

  “Great?” Liam couldn’t help but give her a dubious look. Was she being serious? He didn’t detect any sarcasm.

  “Best date I’ve had in… forever. Admittedly the first ten minutes or so were a little awkward but once we tied up and gagged your brother, things went splendidly. We ended up chatting for hours… so funny.”

  “Half-brother.” Liam corrected automatically. “What do you mean tied up and gagged?” His stomach muscles unclenched for the first time since Nabha had appeared by his bedside this morning and told him rather matter of factly that she was babysitting him for the day, since Devon had been called in to the hospital, and then she had a date.

  “What do you mean, what do I mean? The statement is self-explanatory.”

  Liam frowned, well it was and it wasn’t. “You said ‘we’. We tied him up and gagged him.”

  “Monique helped. She was more than a little motivated at the time, even though her hand hurt.”

  Liam reached over to refill her glass. “Monique?”

  Devon laughed softly. “I’ve never met an escort before, have you? If they’re all like Monique, I totally get now why men hire them.” Devon frowned and then smiled again. “Lucky she didn’t break a knuckle on your brother’s jaw.”

  “Let me get this straight. My half-brother brought a hooker on your date?”

  “Escort or paid companion. Monique says the word hooker has negative connotations. Once she gets enough money she’s going back to school to study neuro-ophthalmology.” Devon gulped down some more water.

  Liam sighed, whilst he was finding tipsy Devon all kinds of cute, he wanted answers right at this moment and was having a hard time piecing together the clues she was dropping. “I’m kind of surprised you weren’t the one to clock… which half-brother was it?”

  Devon scowled for a moment in thought. “It starts with a… B, um, Brian, no… Bryant.” Devon’s head shot around for a moment as thunder rumbled off in the distant. “He stole her money… prick.”

  Liam shook his head and then began to laugh. “So once you had him tied up-”

  “And gagged.” Devon reminded.

  “And gagged. You and Monique just kept on having lunch?”

  “Ninety minutes is the rule. And we came up with a plan while we ate to get Monique’s money back. I knew one of the yokels here must have some technical skills so I called Nell who called someone named Maureen who had my eighth cousin, twenty-six times removed or something, call me for all the details. Before you know it, all the money was back in Monique’s account. By that stage we had Bryant’s real credit card number so we made him p
ay for our lunch and a round of drinks for everyone in the bar. He was not happy.”

  Liam laughed, then he laughed some more. By the Trident, this woman was delightful, evil and unpredictable but damn delightful. “I would have killed to see Bryant’s face.”

  “Oh here.” Devon pushed across her mobile phone. “I took lots of photos. That last one of your brother being hauled off to jail by Chief Hughes is probably my favourite.”

  Liam flicked through the photos, smiling. “Did Bryant tell you he was a music producer?”

  “Yes, I assume that was a lie?”

  “A rather large stretching of the truth. He sells pirate copies of CDs and DVDs out the back of his car in L.A, but he tells people he produces kids’ music because his side business is seducing vulnerable single mothers and convincing them to invest in his rather dubious recording company. A company I might add that changes its name every three months or so to ensure he stays one step ahead of his creditors and the fraud squad.”

  “He sounds like a real Prince… A Merrow Prince.”

  Liam flicked back to a photo that had caught his eye, it was one of Devon, with her face smooshed up against a beautiful woman with a head full of short dark curls who bore more than passing resemblance to a young Elizabeth Taylor. The two were holding up champagne glasses up and smiling for all they were worth into the lens. He was guessing that was Monique but it was Devon’s laughing, happy face that caught and held his attention.

  Devon glanced up as a smattering of rain dashed down, hitting the top of the table and her head. “Looks like the rain is here.” She snatched up her shoes and bag.

  Liam grabbed his crutch. “Will you bring my saddlebags inside?” He glanced up as the smattering of rain turned slightly heavier.

  “Ugh. What do you have in here?” Devon dumped the saddlebags by the nearest sofa before turning to shut the glass doors as a gusty breeze bullied its way into the room. “Whew.” With the doors closed she turned, watching Liam hobble around the room switching on lamps and closing a few of the other open windows. Suddenly she felt less tipsy and more than a little aware that she and Liam were alone… just the two of them, no buffers, no distractions. “I’m going to make some green tea, do you want anything?”