Ariadne's Thread

by Marie Treanor

  Hastily, she took another gulp of the gorgeous whisky.

  He said, “So is there a boyfriend lurking somewhere?”

  “What’s it to you?” she demanded from habit, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

  “Absolutely nothing, as it happens, but I thought it might matter to you.”

  “Do you always speak in riddles?”

  His intense gaze remained steady. “You know exactly what I mean. I like you and I’d like to know you better.”

  Oh, Jesus, why does this have to happen now? Does he know what these words do to me?

  Of course he does. He’s just another man…

  She said, “Aye, well I know exactly what that means.”

  “Tell me,” he invited.

  He really thinks I won’t. She looked straight into his eyes. “You fancy a quick fuck.”

  Laughter and something far hotter swept over his stormy face. “Not quick.”

  Oh, Christ. Heat swamped her, melting her jeans. Before the conversation got even further out of hand, she downed the last of her whisky and laid her glass down on the nearest table. “Look, I have to…”

  “I want to show you something,” he interrupted with a bewildering change of mood. “Come on.”

  He took her hand, and it felt so good there that although she’d truly meant to leave at that point, she actually found herself going with him. Worse, he was leading her back upstairs.

  Where Tammy was, no doubt, banging on the office door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked breathlessly. “I thought the party was downstairs?”

  He laughed. “Why do you think we’re going up?”

  She pulled away. “I’m not going up there.”

  He glanced down at her, his devil’s eyebrows arching in a look both tempting and challenging. Beneath them, his eyes gleamed with that curious darkness she’d noticed before. And something else that she recognized as bitterness. Half the country believed he’d murdered his wife. Certainly, no one had proved he hadn’t.

  He said, “Why not? Are you afraid of me?”

  There were several good answers to that. Answers that would have lost him and got her finally out of the house. Unfortunately, her mouth always answered a challenge before her head gave it permission.

  “Don’t be daft.”

  And she was climbing the stairs again. “Maybe I’m scared of your ghosts.”

  “No, they’re second rate ghosts, not scary at all. Mostly.”

  “I think I saw your great-grandfather.”

  “Bad luck, to quote my great-grandmother.”

  She blinked at that, but since she really wanted to know, she asked, “Is that his piano I was mangling?”

  Laughter hissed out between his teeth. “You didn’t mangle it that badly. I’ve heard a lot worse played on it, believe me. Though the old bugger would prefer if you played the notes he actually wrote.”

  Suddenly she wanted to laugh, too, at his casual disrespect of a national icon as much as at the outlandish nature of the conversation. “Did you learn to play on that piano?”

  He shrugged. “It was always there.”

  “Did he lean over your shoulder and encourage you?”

  “Well, he swore at me when I got it wrong.”

  “You mean he speaks?”

  “Constantly. As the ogre said, it’s getting him to shut up that’s the trick.”

  Shrek? He knew Shrek? How incongruous was that?

  They had reached the top of the stairs now. Turn right, please turn right, away from Tammy…

  He drew her to the left. Addie was sure she could hear the office door rattling. She coughed to cover up any shouting, then found herself whisked into the piano room and the door firmly closed.

  “What are we doing here?” she demanded.

  “I thought you might like to play the piano with me.”

  The lamp was still on. By its poor light, his face looked rugged and more devilish than ever. And he stood too close, much too close. With the door behind her, there was nowhere she could go. God help her, there was nowhere she wanted to go…

  “Though now we’re here, I find I don’t give a stuff about playing.”

  You could drown in the storm of those eyes. She so needed to be away from him…

  “Shit, Kate.” His breathing seemed suddenly uneven. “Remember what you said about the lucky bag?” She opened her mouth to deny that she’d meant any of that, but he didn’t let her speak. “You’re right. It would be a bloody unlucky dip that dropped me in your lap. Tell me to sod off. Tell me quickly, and mean it—right after this kiss…”

  His head swooped down and his mouth seized her parted lips before she could think, let alone react to his words. She wasn’t prepared for it. She had no time either to reject him or to savor the moment. He went from speaking straight to kissing, his hands on either side of her face while his body pressed her back into the door. Paralyzed, she hung there while his mouth devoured hers, moving across her lips with a strange, tender hunger she’d never encountered before. It astounded her, enchanted her. So when his tongue slid between her lips, she opened wider to him, meeting his tongue with her own. He wound it in his, danced with it, sucked it into his own mouth while he explored every nook of hers.

  Sensation rolled inward like a tidal wave. Every caress of his sensitive fingertips at the corner of her lips, every movement of his devastating mouth, dragged her further in. She clung to him, kissing him back with forgotten passion till he groaned into her mouth.

  His hands left her face, trailing down her neck to her shoulders, and down the sides of her body, just teasing her breasts on the way to her waist where they lingered, stroking. Her hard, needy nipples pressed into him through the thin camisole. She moved in his arms, rubbing them against his chest. His hands swept down her hips, holding her while he pressed his lower body into her, his sporran jabbing into her abdomen.

  With an impatient jerk, his hand pushed between their bodies, pushing the sporran aside so that he could grind his erection into her instead. Through the thickness of his kilt, she could feel it already hard and thick. Desire flooded her, soaking her jeans. Her pussy pulsed with need.

  This can’t be happening…how can I want him so much so quickly?

  Changing the angle of his mouth, he deepened the kiss even further. One questing hand found her breast, cupping and caressing, his thumb flickering back and forth across her rigid nipple, making her moan into his mouth. She pressed forward into the delicious hardness of his cock and obligingly he rubbed it against her. She wanted it inside her, pushing, thrusting. She wanted him naked, to feel his skin, every inch of the hard body pressed so beguilingly against her now.

  At last, as if it were a supreme effort, he dragged his mouth free. “Tell me now,” he whispered, touching his forehead to hers. “Tell me quickly… ‘Sod off, John Maxwell, you’re nothing but trouble.’ Kate…”

  His mouth found hers again, brushing back and forwards across her lips as reality flooded back, bringing shame and guilt and a pain so sharp it made her gasp aloud. She grasped his head between her hands to stop his devastating mouth.

  “Johnny… I… Johnny, I’m not…”

  Something bumped inside the room, crashing against the window frame at the same time. A body fell into the room, cursing in fluent Glaswegian.

  Appalled, Addie watched over Johnny’s shoulder as Big Malky rose to his feet, shaking his shaggy head as if to clear it.

  Johnny span round. “What the…?”

  Malky blinked at the pair of them. “Aw right there, big man?” he said amiably to his host. “Happy New Year.”

  Chapter Four

  Johnny said, “Who the hell are you, and why can’t you use the front door?”

  At that point, a scream rent the air. From inside the house. From across the hall. Accompanied by a huge thump, it yelled in muffled tones, “Johnny! In the office! Johnny! Mum! Gavin! Anyone!”

  Johnny swore. In an instant, he’d wrenched ope
n the door behind Addie’s back and dived outside.

  Addie drew her shaking hand through her hair. “Jesus, Malky, what are you doing here?”

  “Looking for the rest of you!”

  She stared. “Shug and Jim left fifteen minutes ago. Didn’t you see them?”

  “Naw, I went for a pish up behind the house…”

  “Christ, let’s just go.” She grabbed up her sweater from the floor where she’d left it and pulled it over her head while charging toward the window. “Can you get back down there, Malky? And catch me?”

  “Aye.”

  Like Shug, Malky was apparently adept at climbing stone buildings. He slithered down the wall, and Addie, all caution forgotten in her desire never to face John Maxwell again, launched herself out of the window on top of him.

  The force of her jump knocked Malky over in the snow. He made a sound like “Ouf!” But without objection, he simply got up and began to amble after her as she ran slipping and sliding for the gate. Her feet inside her boots already felt cold and wet.

  “Did you get the car started?” she demanded.

  “Aye…”

  “You don’t sound very certain.”

  “Well, it started. It’s just I had to stop it again when I went for a whiz. But that’s not our problem anymore.”

  She paused to stare at him. “It’s not?”

  “No. Somebody pulled up to tell me all the roads south are impassable as far as Loch Foy. Nice bloke,” he added thoughtfully. “For a teuchter.”

  “Bloody hell,” Addie said furiously. “I knew this would happen.” Abruptly, she wanted to cry because all that had ever made this bearable was getting home to Kate, and now she couldn’t even do that.

  She could hear voices in the night, calling to each other, laughing. The Maxwells’ guests heading home by foot, perhaps. Or other locals first-footing each other. Why couldn’t she be one of them, instead of the burglar escaping the scene of her crime with Big Malky?

  Throwing off her self-pity with an impatient toss of her head, she trudged on through the snow. She shivered uncontrollably.

  There was a big mess of footprints and slide-marks all round the solitary car parked in the road, but no sign of Shug or Jimmy.

  “Well, that’s weird,” Malky said, scratching his head. Peering in the side window, Addie could see the sports bag on the back seat.

  “They’ve been here,” she said grimly. “They must be back up there looking for us.”

  And with all hell breaking loose over Tammy’s discovery, “up there” was not a good place to be. Whether or not John Maxwell had murdered his wife, the alacrity with which he’d sped off to rescue his sister did not bode well for whoever had hurt her. And Shug…

  “Malky, did you know Shug had a gun with him?”

  “Aye, but it’s no’ loaded,” Malky said comfortably. He frowned. “At least that’s what he told Jim. Can’t see the point of bringing it if it isn’t. Look, hen, you wait in the car—I’ll go and find them.”

  “No, no, we’ll all be wandering around separately for hours. Let’s stick together, and when we find them, clear off. Which way’s the nearest village? Or hotel? Or B&B?”

  “Miles,” said Malky gloomily.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  ef

  Tammy Maxwell held on to her brother tightly. He supposed grimly that after what she’d been through, she was coping very well. When he’d kicked the door open, she’d thrown herself into his arms, clutching him like her one salvation as she sobbed out her unbelievable story.

  Now they sprawled on the office floor to give her time to recover, and she was calming surprisingly fast.

  Over her head, Johnny ruefully regarded the empty, open safe.

  “And they actually threatened you with a gun?” he demanded, making a genuine effort to keep the fury out of his voice.

  She nodded. “As soon as I walked in on them, he whipped it out of his pocket and told me to sit down over there and keep my mouth shut.”

  “Was it real?”

  “I don’t know! The others certainly behaved as if it was. In fact, if it wasn’t for the girl, I think he might actually have shot me.”

  Something twisted in his gut. Oh, no, not… “What girl? I thought you said it was two men?”

  “At first it was. Then, after they’d been wrestling with the safe for ages—I don’t think they’re very competent criminals—this girl turned up, too. She seemed very angry about the gun. But then she made me open the safe. I’m so sorry, Johnny, they took your concerto…”

  “Well, what does that matter? It’s in my head if I ever want it again.”

  “Yes, but Johnny, you do want it. Now! It was to be the basis of your…”

  “Nothing’s changed, Tammy. Listen, would you recognize these people again?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said fervently. “Psycho-Weasel Shug and Jimmy the Lamb.”

  Johnny blinked. “You know their names?”

  “Must be any number of Shugs and Jims in Glasgow. Castlemilk, to be precise.”

  Johnny gave her a quick hug of admiration. “Good girl. They’ll be sorry yet they crossed the Maxwells.” He hesitated, but only briefly. He already knew the answer to this one. “And the girl? Was she called Kate?”

  Tammy frowned. “Might have been. I don’t think they used her name. But I’d know her again all right. Cheap jeans and bad hair that hasn’t been cut in two years. And a red silk top probably mugged from someone else. I think she’s the Lamb’s moll—certainly she didn’t care for Psycho-Shug. Johnny, are you…?”

  He was spared the necessity of responding to that as Gavin appeared in the doorway, looking white faced and terrified.

  “Tammy? What’s happened? Liz said you were screaming…”

  Mutely, Tammy reached out her arms to him, and for once Johnny was glad to stand aside and let the other man in. He had to move, he had to do something, use up some of that anger or he’d burst. Already striding from the room, he flung words back over his shoulder like machine gun fire.

  “Stay with her,” he commanded. “We’ve been robbed, and in this weather I don’t think there are many places for the bastards to go.”

  ef

  It was surprisingly difficult to find the others. There seemed to be a general exodus from the Maxwells’ house, with indistinguishable figures milling darkly through the snow. Since news of the robbery was no doubt out by now and someone might even have been looking for the culprits, they had no desire to draw attention to themselves or to each other.

  Eventually, sneaking around the outhouses at the back, Addie caught sight of her brother’s face at a window. A second later, the door wrenched open.

  “Malky, thank God. In here.”

  It was a relief just to get shelter from the biting wind. However, it was a short lived relief, because sitting on the floor with one trainer off and an expression of angry pain on his face was Shug.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded. “Why weren’t you at the car?”

  “Pish,” said Malky laconically. “What happened to you?”

  Shug jerked his head in Jim’s direction. “This arsehole pushed me over.”

  “I didn’t,” Jim protested. “That is, I didn’t mean to. I lost my footing climbing down, Shug tried to catch me and we both fell over.”

  “He landed on my ankle,” said Shug. “It’s sprained.”

  By the light of Jim’s torch, Addie regarded the swollen mess of his foot and ankle. “Looks broken to me,” she observed.

  “It’s not broken,” Shug said dangerously.

  “Aye all right, Shug, it’s your ankle,” Jim said peaceably. “We limped round here, then I went to get Malky…”

  “And left the bloody bag in the car.” Shug snorted.

  Addie turned to show she had it on her back, and Shug grunted.

  “What are we going to do?” Addie asked. “The roads are closed. Even Malky can’t carry you for miles…”

 
“Get back into the house. Take the buggers hostage till the weather clears.”

  Addie’s mouth fell open. Jim watched her anxiously.

  “No way,” she said, when she could speak. “I am not going in there again. If you want to do this, it’s on your own. You can call a taxi to take you back to Glasgow. Unless you decide to hijack an aeroplane or something.”

  Shug regarded her with dislike. “You were always a sarcastic wee…”

  The door crashed open.

  John Maxwell stood there, a black leather jacket open over his kilt, a shotgun held casually at his side. Snowflakes covered his shoulders and glistened in his hair. His eyes were dark, swirling storms as they took in the scene before him.

  Addie wanted to die.

  Then Malky remembered why he was there and lunged at his host.

  “Malky!” Addie yelled, grabbing at his arm. Surprise stopped Malky in his tracks.

  “Exactly,” said John Maxwell. “Now, which of you gentleman carries the firearm?” His gaze raked across all of them, not pausing longer on Addie than anyone else. He knows, he already knows. A pain, like loss or grief, twisted through her. His eyes rested on Shug.

  “You, I think.”

  Shug grinned viciously. “Come and get it.”

  “No. You…” Without taking his attention from Shug, he waved the shotgun in Addie’s direction. “Go and get it. Very slowly. Drop it on the floor and kick it over here.”

  Addie didn’t hesitate. Dropping to her knees, she felt inside Shug’s pocket. Shug swore at her, fluently.

  “You want him to shoot us?” she demanded, realizing she wasn’t actually sure he wouldn’t. Impulsively, she turned on her knees to face Maxwell. “Look,” she began awkwardly, and his eyes flickered over her, icy hard, yet boiling with fury. There was no point. What they had done to his sister was unforgivable.

  “Kick it to me,” he said.

  Addie gave it a half-hearted push with her toe. At least it was out of Shug’s reach.

  “And now I’ll have the envelope from that bag on your back.”

  Addie slid the bag off her shoulder, opened it and took out the envelope. Thrusting it toward him, she muttered, “Sorry.”