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  “One younger brother, Mitch. He’s still in college. And then there’s the two numpties, Leith and Jamie. We’re as close as brothers.”

  “The whole thing at the bar is sort of confusing. Everyone knows one another. It feels more like a private club than a public bar.” That’s a pretty accurate description. “It sometimes feels like there’s a secret everyone’s privy to except me.”

  This girl has it all—brains and beauty. I hope she isn’t too smart for her own good. “How long do you think you’ll stay?”

  “Not sure. I’m trying to get everything finished up as soon as possible. The business at home waits.”

  Basing my judgment on the flat where Bleu is staying, her aunt wasn’t a wealthy woman, so she can probably be done within the next couple of weeks. “I believe that should be doable.”

  “Tell me about your parents.”

  This is where my story can go sideways quickly. “My mum and father are still married. I guess you could call Dad an entrepreneur. He owns a few businesses. Mum doesn’t work. What about yours?”

  “My mom passed away two years ago. My dad won’t even consider dating. He says he loved her too much to be with another woman.”

  I can’t imagine having parents who tolerate each other, let alone love one another. It’s completely foreign to me. And I’m destined to be just like them.

  With a fair amount of certainty, I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to love.

  I send Sterling into the club for a look around before we enter. I need to make sure it’s clear. The last thing I need is an altercation with a rival in front of Bleu. “All clear, boss.”

  “Perfect. Thank you, Sterling. That will be all.”

  “What was that about?” she asks.

  “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  It’s Saturday night, so the dance floor is bouncing. We opt for seats at the bar. “What do you want? Sex on the beach?”

  “No.” She laughs. “I did that because I thought it would be funny to see you with a girlie drink. Your reaction was priceless.”

  “Would you take a Johnnie Walker Black Label instead?”

  “You thoroughly enjoy JW, don’t you?”

  “Aye. It’s good stuff.”

  “Suits me fine.”

  We get our drinks and go down the stairs into the cave where the best dance floor is. “This is an unusual place.”

  “Not bad, right?”

  “It’s great. We don’t have anything like this at home.”

  We move toward the dance floor. “Do you like to dance?”

  “When I have a good partner.”

  There’s a new Sia song playing. “Want to kill these so we can get out there?”

  “Sure. On three.”

  We click our glasses and count, “One. Two. Three.”

  We down the dark liquid. “This stuff is never disappointing. If anything in this world suffers from the tragedy of perfection, it’s some motherfucking Johnnie Walker,” I say.

  “Agreed.”

  Glasses abandoned, we move to the floor. The song isn’t really a slow one, but Bleu moves close and puts one arm over my shoulder while clasping my hand. “I really love this song.”

  I listen to the lyrics for a moment. “Fire, meet gasoline?”

  Bleu sings a few verses and shrugs. “Sorry. I know I can’t sing worth a damn but it doesn’t stop me.”

  Several couples hit the dance floor all at once, forcing her to move closer. “It’s getting crowded.”

  This is nothing for this place. “It’s a popular club but it’s still early. It’ll be mobbed in another hour.”

  “Won’t be able to stir ’em with a stick.”

  “What?”

  She laughs. “It’s an expression we say in the South. Means a place is really crowded.”

  She’s hasn’t told me where she’s from but I already know from when I did the online search for her photography studio.

  A new song picks up where Sia left off, and we’ll have to scream at one another if we want to continue any kind of conversation. “Another drink?”

  “Sure. It’s hot in here.”

  I lead her from the dance floor toward the downstairs bar. “Want the same?”

  She shrugs. “Suits me.”

  Getting our drinks takes longer than I’d like. “A table just opened up in that little alcove. I’m gonna grab it while you’re waiting for our drinks.”

  I order doubles since I’m in no hurry to stand in line for drinks again. Three is probably plenty for Bleu anyway. I’m guessing she’s a lightweight based on her size. I probably outweigh her by seventy pounds so it’s not fair to expect her to keep up.

  I move through the crowd toward the table where Bleu’s waiting when I see one of my worst adversaries sitting next to her. Lloyd Buchanan, an officer who’s been after The Fellowship for years, is cozying up and talking into her ear. She’s leaning away, which means she doesn’t like the things he’s saying. “Move the fuck away from her.”

  “What a lovely American lass you have with you tonight, Mr. Breckenridge.”

  Perfect. He’s going to be an arse. “Leave her alone.”

  “Since when did you start branching outside of the brotherhood?”

  Things could become very unsafe for Bleu if he keeps talking. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Aww, she’s doesn’t know who you are. You haven’t told her you come from one of the most notorious families in Edinburgh. No… make that in Scotland. She has no idea your father is a sadistic crime lord and one day you’ll be his replacement.”

  Buchanan strokes his finger down Bleu’s bare arm. “Sweetheart, the man you’re with is a deplorable criminal. He lies, steals, and kills. And that’s just the shortlist.”

  I hate hearing him say those things to Bleu but I hate seeing his hands on her more. “Don’t touch her.”

  Bleu looks at his hand and then at his face. “I’m giving you a warning and then an entire second to take your hand off me before I break it.”

  “You just threatened the deputy chief constable of the organized crime unit.” Buchanan’s hand moves down Bleu’s arm to her leg. “I could take you in for that alone.”

  He’s threatening Bleu. I’m sure she’s frightened but I’m not. I move toward him, prepared for what might happen next. “I said, take your hand off her.”

  I don’t take a full step toward them before Bleu goes for his balls. I see the rotation of her wrist and know exactly what’s she’s doing. Buchanan yells out in pain and drops to his knees. “Take me in if you like. I’d rather enjoy hearing the tale you’d weave about how a young American female tourist came to have your balls twisted in a dance club.”

  I don’t take another step because I see that my assistance isn’t necessary. Bleu’s totally got this.

  “Let go!” he hisses through clenched teeth.

  Bleu releases him and he falls against the floor into the fetal position. She swings her legs around and steps over him as she gets out of the booth. “I believe I’ve been delighted by his presence long enough.”

  She loops her arm through mine as we exit the club. It’s surprising. She seems to be taking the news of my crime-family background rather well, as she isn’t running away. Maybe she thinks it’s bullshit.

  We’re driving to her flat and I’m waiting for her to bring up the things Buchanan said. She doesn’t disappoint. “Is that stuff true? Are you part of an organized crime family? Or organization? Or whatever that jackass was talking about?”

  I guess I could lie. She knows no one in these parts so she’d probably never be privy to the reality but I find I prefer to tell her the truth. Nothing about her is typical so I’m curious to see her reaction. And test her. “My father is the patriarch of our family and an organization called The Fellowship. Some people call us a gang. We’ve been referred to as mobsters or Mafia. I don’t care for any of those names. We’re Scotsmen—not Italians—so clan or kinship is much more fitting.”

&n
bsp; “Do you do those things he accused you of? Lie? Steal?” She hesitates before saying the last. “Kill?”

  “I’m in the business of boundaries and limits. I’m aware of what mine are and how far I’m willing to go to get my job accomplished. It can include lying and sometimes stealing.” I wait a moment for driving the last nail into the coffin. “And perhaps the occasional killing.”

  “How do you feel when you do those things?”

  “Powerful.” I purposely choose that word because it’s the one she used to describe how she felt when she brought Duff to his knees. I want her to see just how similar we are.

  She watches out the window for a minute before speaking again. “Do you like the way it feels?”

  I can’t lie. I get a high from it. “Very much.”

  Another minute passes. “Okay.”

  What? “Just… okay?”

  “Would you like me to be horrified?” she asks. “I can do that if it would make you feel better or improve your opinion of me.”

  She’s no fucking Pollyanna. So I guess there’s no reason for her to pretend to be. “No. Okay works for me.”

  I’m not sure if I should be disturbed by her lack of appall. It feels like a double standard to be shocked by an absence of dismay.

  My God, has the pot met the kettle? “I wish I could get inside your head.”

  “No, you don’t,” she says. “My mind is a dark place to be.”

  I think I may have met the perfect woman. In her eyes, I’m not a monster at all.

  Chapter 7

  Bleu MacAllister

  I stop when we reach my front door. My hand pressed against Sin’s chest is my signal for him to understand he won’t be coming in. “Thank you for tonight. I had a very good time.”

  “Again?” He sighs and rubs his hands down my arms. “I’m not invited to come inside?”

  I grin while shaking my head. “You aren’t ready.”

  “I suspect it’s you who isn’t ready because I know for damn sure I am.” He’s going to kiss me. I know he is. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

  He’s trying so hard. It’s sort of sweet in a way, even though he is trying to get me into bed. “I have no doubt you will, but it won’t be tonight.”

  “I want to kiss you.” He comes closer, invading my personal space. “That’s something I never have a desire to do.”

  I suppose one kiss won’t hurt. It’s probably a good idea to throw a dog a bone, even if it’s a small one.

  I hold up one of my fingers. “One bite of the apple. That’s all you get.”

  The corner of his mouth turns up and a small dimple appears. I’ve not noticed that until now. It’s sexy as hell.

  My God, he’s a handsome devil.

  His eyes are beautiful, like melted dark chocolate.

  His hands go to my waist and pull me tightly against him. Our mouths are impossibly close yet not touching. We make a sport of it, almost like tug of war. One advances, the other retreats. We alternate until his lips finally brush mine and it’s a game to me no more. I want to taste him.

  I move my hands up his arms, over his broad, muscular shoulders. His lips meet mine and I open my mouth, inviting his tongue inside. They’re soft and wet gliding together. He tastes likes whisky. And I love it.

  His hand moves to the hem of my dress and creeps up my thighs. That’s more than the one bite I promised, so I grab his wrist. “You’re being a very bad boy.”

  “The only thing that’s bad is how much I want to touch you.”

  I push his hand away. “I know you do—and you will—but not until you come to understand full circle what it is I want and need.”

  “Bonny Bleu, I can make you feel so fucking good if you’ll just let me.” His hand is back to working its way up my dress. “Isn’t that what all of this is about? Pleasuring you?”

  I let his fingers skim my silky panties before forcing his hand away. “It most definitely is but if you understood anything about what I need, you’d be able to predict that I don’t want it while standing outside my front door for all of my neighbors to see.”

  He growls in frustration. “Then let me come in.”

  “Says the big bad wolf.”

  He steps back and clasps his hands over the top of his head. “Your game confuses me. You act as though you want to be properly fucked but you have all these stipulations to go along with the manner in which it’s done.” He moves his hands down his face. “It’s fucking exhausting,” he growls.

  He’s becoming annoyed. I’m losing him. I think he’s growing tired of the waiting game so I have to reel him in again. “Being properly fucked is worth the wait because when it’s good, it’s very good.”

  I need to step up my plan, force his hand.

  Sin doesn’t take women to his home—ever. It would be a huge concession for him to do so. He needs a really good reason to want to take me there. “It sounds silly but the truth is that I sort of get creeped out thinking about having sex in Aunt Edy’s flat since it’s where she passed away.”

  “No storage rooms. No offices. No flats where dead people could be walking around. Should I be aware of any other places you can’t have sex?” He’s laughing at me again. Good. I prefer that over annoyance.

  “If I asked you to take me to your bed after our next date and make love to me, would you?”

  “I don’t take women to my house. And I don’t make love.”

  “Would you if it pleased me?” I want to plant the idea that taking me into his bed will conquer half the battle.

  He doesn’t answer immediately but I can tell he’s thinking it over. “I might be able to find a way to make an exception this one time.”

  I’m surprised he gave in so easily. “Good. I’m off Thursday and Friday.”

  “Fuck, no! That’s five days from now.”

  I shrug, pretending I don’t know what the problem is. “And?”

  He’s shaking his head. “No way. That’s entirely too long to wait.”

  Really? Five days is nothing. “Anticipation is one of the best forms of foreplay.”

  I’m certain he doesn’t agree, based on his expression. “Ugh!” he groans. “Mmm… I’m going to kiss the hell out of you right now and you’re not going to tell me I can’t.”

  He doesn’t give me the opportunity to refuse. I’m yanked into his arms, my body slamming against his. His mouth devours mine, consuming me from the outside inward.

  His hands are on my ass, squeezing my cheeks, almost painfully so. He’s borderline lifting me, the tips of my toes barely grazing the ground. I think he’ll have me lifted with my legs wrapped around him at any minute. But then he releases me. And I’m disappointed. I liked what he was doing.

  “You better be worth all this work and waiting.” He nips my bottom lip and gives my ass another painful squeeze before turning to walk to his car.

  Anticipation—it builds excitement and suspense. The brain really is a sexual organ, even for men. Sin is going to spend the next five days and nights fantasizing about what it’ll be like when he finally has me beneath him. Waiting is something he’s never had to do so this is another way of setting me apart from the others before me. It proves I’m worth the wait and far more than just fuckworthy.

  This is happening much faster than I anticipated. It’s coming down to the wire and I have to mentally prep myself if I’m going to be ready to do this in a mere five days.

  He thinks our only reason for coming together is for sex, but it’s going to be about so much more. I need him to feel a bond. It’s something I’ve never had with a man before so I’m not sure I can pull it off.

  As one would expect, making yourself an island prevents you from forming emotional and physical connections. That translates into me never having had an intimate relationship with a man. I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin and my first sexual encounter is going to be with the son of my mother’s killer.

  It’s sick, but all part of my plan to make him fall in
love with me.

  I’ve convinced him I’m some sort of sexual butterfly but I wonder what he’s going to think when he realizes he is the first man to ever have me. I anticipate it going one of two ways: either he’ll be pissed and storm out because I’m not the experienced woman he’s expecting, or he’ll be so taken by being the one and only that he’ll do everything in his power to keep it that way.

  I’m hoping for the latter.

  The days are closing in quickly and I’m growing increasingly nervous about my approaching deflowering. I sort of know what to expect, yet I don’t. I can only think of one person in this world I can talk to about sex—my sister.

  “Oh God, Bleu. I’m so happy to hear from you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to get away to call or not.” She understands it isn’t always possible for me to call home.

  “I’m so happy to hear your voice. You’re good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s work?” I say.

  “The golden child got the day shift, so I’m still stuck on twelve-hour nights. But I expected it, so I’m not too disappointed.” Elli had put in for days just before I left. I’m bummed for her that she didn’t get it.

  “At least it’s never boring.” It’s my attempt at being positive.

  “Right. The freaks come out at night, especially in the ER. A dude came in last night—he’d shoved a bag of coke up his ass when he got pulled over. Retrieving that was a load of fun. I promise you I do not get paid enough for that shit.”

  My sister’s wit and charm is effortless. She makes everyone laugh and is adored by all. I wish I were more like her.

  “I know you can’t tell me anything about your assignment but are you at least enjoying wherever you are?”

  “I am. It’s beautiful here.”

  “Tell me you’re on a tropical island, mingling with beautiful male criminals who wear togas and feed you grapes while you lounge in the sun.”

  We always play this game. “Yes. I’m in Hawaii investigating a rich, handsome man. I’m staying with him at his extravagant beachfront home where I have servants at my beck and call but I mostly lie on the beach all day.”