I know him… How? Mentally running through enforcers, underbosses, and assassins from some of our known enemies, I can’t connect him. Saving and enlarging the image, I send it back to Cormac’s tech guy Harris.
Identify this man,I texted Harris.I know him, but I can’t put a name or a family to the face.
My wife is furious at me over the accusations, our first trip back in public is a disaster and I can’t quite convince myself that Blackwood didn’t plan this, even with his daughter in the mix. The only highlight of this day was Isla sitting on my ‘gun.’
I can only imagine my brother’s response to that.
Chapter Twenty
In which Dougal is completely comfortable with being objectified.
Dougal…
It’s not until we’re back at the lodge and standing in the two-story entry that I see the dried blood coming from Isla’s ear.
“You were hurt,” I say, taking her chin and gently lifting it to check for more blood. “Why didn’t you tell me? The doctor should be here any moment, I’ll have her check you first.”
She glares at me. “Two of your men got shot and poor Angus is still bleeding! I’m fine. My ears are ringing, that’s all.”
If she ends up with hearing loss from this, I’m going to keep the bastard responsible alive to torture him for another week.
“Let’s go upstairs and get you settled.” Sweeping her up in my arms, I ignore her outraged yelp as I take the stairs two at a time. Despite all her protests, she sways a bit when I set her down in her bedroom. “The adrenaline is likely just wearing off now. Are ya’ hurt anywhere else?”
Her hands go to her long hair, pushing it out of the way, her fingers finding a spot by her ear. “I think this is the cut that bled, not my ear.”
Unbuttoning her silk blouse, I ignore her as she tries to bat my hands away. “Be still. I’m going to check you for any other injuries.”
“You’re not my doctor!”
I ignore her, her struggles are perfunctory and I know she’s exhausted. Pulling her into the bathroom, I start the tub for her. “You keep getting hurt and I keep drawing your baths. We’re gettin’ into a rut here.”
“I’m pretty sure ya’ can’t blame today on me,” she says peevishly. Still, she lets me take off her walking boot and her pants. I run my fingertips over every inch of her skin, looking for injuries. There’s a cluster of five small cuts on her shoulder, but otherwise, my wife is unharmed.
“I’ll clean these cuts, I canna’ believe we survived the explosion unscathed.”
“Jack and Finlay didn’t,” she says sadly.
“Your father’s men?”
“Aye. Second cousins.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” I clean the cuts quickly and run a wet washcloth over the blood by her ear. “I’ll help you into the tub.” My hands reach a little too eagerly for her bra clasp and she backs into the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.
“No, you won’t! Please leave.”
“I canna’ do that, darlin’.” I know I’m wearing a huge, shite-eating grin but I can’t do anything about it. “The doctor said to keep an eye on you in case you have a concussion.”
“Turn around then,” she groans, reluctantly reaching for her bra.
“I am a gentleman.”
“Uh, huh,” she says doubtfully. I can hear the little splash of water and her groan of relief.
“Turning around,” I warn her. She’s sunk under the bubbles with only her head showing and a blissful smile on her face. It’s taking everything in me to not strip and climb in with her. We will be taking baths together in the near future. Extended sessions in the tub, where I’ll make her clean, then very dirty, and then clean again. This is not the time to discuss this, though she will be deciding on a safe word very soon. It doesn’t matter how many times I get myself off, the need to be inside this woman never lessens.
“Do we know anything yet about who’s behind today?” Isla asks, trying to focus.
“I’m still going through the security camera footage. Harris, our web guy patched into the traffic cameras on the street. I did see a man walking by who looked familiar, but I canna’ place him.” Pulling out my phone, I show her the image. “Ring any bells?”
