Chapter Three
In which Isla finds Dougal's attractiveness unreasonably distracting.
Isla…
My hands don’t stop shaking until I’m nearly home.
It’s not the first time I’ve been held at gunpoint, but it was the first time that I froze like a rabbit in a snare. Dougal MacTavish, his sharp features lit up and looking like Satan’s right-hand man, holding that gun to my head was… it was next-level terrifying. His eyes had a weird gleam of excitement, like the thirty, maybe forty cartel men he’d just shot to pieces wasn’t quite enough to satisfy his appetite for destruction. For the balance of a few seconds, I was certain he was about to pull the trigger.
And licking me? Licking my face? What kind of total nutterdoesthat? I wipe my face with the back of my hand again, still feeling the warmth of his tongue.
Dougal let me go, though. He didn’t even try to go through my backpack as if anything I’d managed to steal was beneath his notice.
Wait. Now I’m mad that hedidn’tsearch me?
Rubbing my forehead, I shove his arrogant, inexcusably handsome face out of my mind. We’ll keep each other’s secrets. I don’t want anyone knowing what I stole from the Atlantic warehouse and he certainly doesn't want the world to know he and his brother just mowed down forty Columbians.
“How did it go?”
Papa’s sitting behind his desk with a warm smile for me.
“Almost flawlessly,” I said, dumping the backpack on his desk and pouring a glass of brandy, “aside from the MacTavish firefight that killed a rather large contingent of cartel members.”
His eyes widen. “What did you just say, love?”
“It’s good,” I slump on the couch, finishing half my glass in one gulp. “I was already in place, I couldn’t risk moving and having one of those trigger-happy wank-stains shoot me.”
“Stop that language!” Papa scolded.
Draining the rest of the glass, I chuckle. “All the bizarre shite I do for this family and you'll not allow me the occasional vulgarity?”
“In the interests of getting to the point,” he agrees, rubbing his eyes. “What happened?”
“I was already in the Atlantic warehouse when I saw them swarm up,” I said, eyeing my empty glass sadly. “I held position while I tried to figure out their plan. Turns out, it was shooting up a Colombian cartel that was attempting to steal their arms shipment. It was a mess, Papa. Bodies everywhere. They threw them on the boat that brought the rifles in. I’m guessing they’re planning to dump them out at sea.”
“You’re not hurt?” he asks sharply, “They didn’t see you?”
Pursing my lips, I remember being hauled up against Dougal’s huge body, his arm in a headlock around my neck. “One of the MacTavish brothers caught me. We made a deal that he wouldn’t ask what was in the backpack, and I would overlook the pile of bodies on his dock.” I chuckle. “Call it mutually assured destruction.”
He doesn’t answer me and when I look up, his face is sheet-white. “Are you alright? Papa?”
Sucking in a deep breath, he nods. “Aye. Just fine. I’m proud of you, lass. Keeping a cool head like that? Well done.”
Eyeing him with concern, I keep chatting until the color returns to his face before I say goodnight.
Lying in bed after a shower, I look out my tall French doors at the moonlight filtering through the trees that circle Blackwood House. The feel of his wide chest, hard with muscle. His huge hands easily circled my throat. My fingers slip down, beneath the silk of my undies to my clitoris, suddenly hard and throbbing insistently. His lunatic grin flashing, showing off his even white teeth. Dougal’s blue eyes…
Putting a pillow over my face, I scream into it as my wet, slippery finger circles my clit and I come.
Damn him. Fecking Dougal MacTavish.
Chapter Four
In which Dougal finds that Isla is a little too good at her job.
Dougal…
The Universe decides that pretty little Isla Blackwood and I must cross paths again.
