Edging up to the window, I see the faint beam of light from the little office at the far end of the building.
“Thanks for giving me such a clear shot,” I barely whisper, waiting for the figure to move into the center of the room before I fire. They’re leaning on the desk, sorting through something. Frowning, I pull back from the scope. This isn’t a bleeding cartel arsehole trying to escape justice. Moving to the next window, then the next, I find it already open. Must be their entry and exit point.
Getting comfortable, I watch them deftly look through the items on the desk and then stuff most of them into a backpack. As they’re slipping back out the window, I grab them in a headlock with my Ruger pressed into the back of their head.
“Nice night for a walk,” I whisper. “Though it might be the last one you see, so get a good look at those stars tonight.”
“Get the feck off me,” they hiss, “I’m not part of your dirty work. Mind your business and I’ll mind mine.”
Impressive. They don’t even sound frightened, just pissed off. “Don’t move an inch or I’ll shoot right through your left eye,” I promise as I rip their balaclava off.
“You’re a-”
“Yes,” she interrupted angrily, “a woman. I’m aware. And still not involved in your business so moving on. Even aMacTavishwon’t shoot an unarmed woman. Didn’t you get enough blood tonight?”
“There’s always room for one more in the lime pit,” I say pleasantly, watching her flinch slightly. Pressing the gun into her temple, “Who the feck are you? What’s in the backpack, little girl?”
Her narrowed eyes are a translucent green, and her mouth is a thin slash of fury. “Nothing to do with you. You’ve already had a busy night of murder, so move on, and so will I.”
“Ah… yes, I know who you are. Isla Blackwood. Are you out doing Daddy’s dirty work tonight?”
Isla pointedly looks over my shoulder at the carnage. “Looks like you’ve been up to a bit of your own. Move that fecking gun before you drill a hole in my skull.” She’s still got a death grip on that backpack and I’m about to rip it from her hands when my earpiece crackles to life.
“Dougal? Anything to see?”
Tapping my earpiece without taking my gaze off the furious girl I have pinned to the window, I say, “It’s nothing. Warehouse is clear. Carry on.”
“Thank you, Your Grace, we will,” Cameron chuckles.
My free hand moves to her throat, gently squeezing her thundering pulse. “You’re quick and you’re clever, little girl. But you’re in over your head. You could have been on the top of that heap of bodies.”
She follows my gaze to where our men are throwing the cartel corpses onto the deck of our ship, now cleared of the rifle cases. Isla shivers, just slightly.
“Are we done here?” she says tightly.
Squeezing her throat just a bit more, I watch her pupils flare as she sucks in a deep breath. “Such a pretty little thing.” My cock is suddenly so hard that I could split wood with it. Leaning in, I breathe in the sweet scent of her that overpowers the endless stench of blood on nights like these.
She’s citrus, a sweet touch of vanilla, a bite of something peppery and it’s delicious. It’s taking all my self-control to not lick her like a cat.
Fuck it.
“What are youdoing?”she hisses, batting at me, hands flailing. I hold her still as my tongue runs up the racing pulse of her neck, to her sharp jaw, her cheekbone, and forehead.
“Delectable, aren’t you, little girl?”
Isla’s staring at me, shocked into speechlessness.
Reluctantly, I loosen my grip. “Run away, lass. I’ll give you a five-minute head start to get the hell out of this harbor.”
Her lips curl back, and she pushes my gun hand away as she leaps to her feet, flipping me off before racing gracefully into the darkness.
My headset crackles again. “Where are you?”
I look down at my raging erection and groan, pressing the heel of my hand against it. I can’t go back to the scene of a bloodbath sporting astonner. “I’ll be right there,Ma’but thanks for your concern.”
“Whatever, arsehole,” Cameron laughs.
Stonner - Scottish slang for an erection
