I guess there’s no reason to be ill at ease if she isn’t. “No. Stay.”
I retell the horrid events of the day my mother was killed and I can see the pain in Thane’s heart; it’s reflected in the expression on his face. “You have a grave with a headstone next to your mother. I’ve seen it.”
“Dad’s doings. He was afraid my mom’s killer might come back for me if he believed I could identify him. He decided it would be safer if everyone believed I was dead.”
“You spent all these years believing I was her killer. I swear it wasn’t me.”
I wholeheartedly trust that he’s telling me the truth. “I believe you.”
“I understand you didn’t see the killer’s face but do you remember anything that might be identifying?”
I know very little. “He smelled of sweet tobacco and liquor. I know now it was Jack Daniels. Neither of those things helps with determining identity but my dog attacked him. There was a lot of blood so I believe he should have a significant scar on his right lower leg.” At least that much is solid.
“You were convinced you recognized my voice.”
“I had heard your voice many times during your visits to my mother. Her killer’s accent was identical to yours. As a child, I always assumed it was you. When I became an adult, I knew I couldn’t go on assumptions alone so I researched her connections. You were her only Scottish association.”
My findings didn’t prove his guilt. It would never stand up in a court of law but I didn’t need that; I made myself judge and jury. I didn’t convict Thane based on concrete evidence. I did it using my gut. And I was wrong. I can admit my mistake now.
Can’t lie. My blunder shakes my confidence.
“Several of my men were in the US when Amanda was murdered but I don’t have reason to suspect any of them. None had motive. They would’ve been too afraid to cross me.” Thane may need to rethink the loyalty of his men.
“Perhaps a rival, then?”
“It’s possible but I doubt they would’ve taken something so precious to me without claiming responsibility.” He’s right. A rival would’ve loved nothing more than him knowing what they’d done. Whoever did this wants to keep it quiet.
“Would you be willing to make a list of Fellowship members in the US during that time?” That’s probably our best place to begin.
“Aye. I’ll have a list for you in the morning.”
“That would be a great start. Thank you.”
Isobel slaps her hands together. “Good. Now that we have that out of the way, I want tae talk about why I’m here.”
I don’t think anyone is questioning Isobel’s reason for coming. “It’s not every day The Fellowship’s future leader takes a wife so we need tae have a formal commemoration tae announce and celebrate yer marriage. That bastard, Abram, robbed ye of the wedding ye should have had here with yer family but we’ll make up for it with one hell of a reception. And he will be there, front and center, smiling about it.”
Abram may be there but I highly doubt he’ll be smiling.
“Our wedding was beautiful, Mum,” Sin says. “And the end result is the same. Bleu is my wife and that’s all that matters.”
I wouldn’t take a posh wedding in a beautiful cathedral over the one I had at my father’s bedside. It was perfect.
“I’m sure it was lovely. I’m sorry I missed it. But we’ll make up for it with a reception The Fellowship won’t forget anytime soon.” Isobel removes a large binder from her bag and I know what it means. She has big plans in store.
My initiation ceremony was grand so I can only imagine what she has in mind for a wedding reception. “I have an event planner scheduled tae come later this week but we need tae have some ideas of what we want before he comes.”
My husband and father-in-law get up to make their escape. “This is our cue,” Sin says.
The jackass I married is grinning at me. He’s laughing because he knows choosing tableware, flowers, and cake flavors aren’t my thing. But it’s something I’ll do for my beloved mother-in-law—with a smile on my face—because I want to make her happy.
Isobel closes the folder once Sin and Thane are gone. “I’m ecstatic about the reception but I don’t want tae discuss the plans for it right now. I only pretended I did so the men would leave.”
Thank God. “That’s a relief.”
“I thought it would be.”
Seems my mother-in-law knows me pretty well.
“I have things I want tae tell you about the brotherhood and what it’s like tae be married tae its leader. Their input isn’t needed.”
“There are times when it isn’t.” I laugh.
“Ye’ve only been back a few hours but The Fellowship doesn’t offer the courtesy of a transition period into yer place as wife of a leader.”
That may be the case, but I have no idea what is expected of me. There’s no map or guidebook. “I don’t know the part I’m to play. I’m lost.”
“Then ye must quickly find yerself because that can be construed as instability. That’s no good for ye or Sinclair. There are those who would call you weak and use that against ma son.”
I won’t be a liability to my husband. “I’m a lot of things but weak has never been one of them.”
“Ye were expected tae pick up the reins the moment ye arrived. No one cares that ye weren’t raised within the brotherhood. They’ll be watching—and some hoping—for ye tae fail.”
I won’t let Sin down. “Failure isn’t an option. So where do we begin?”
“Always with tea, love. We have a lot tae cover.”
Chapter Ten
Sinclair Breckenridge
Photographs. Sticky notes. Timelines. Thumbnails with strings connecting one clue to another. It looks like nothing more than graffiti covering the wall of my home office.
The squares of paper stuck to the wall vary in a dozen colors. I’m sure each represents some kind of significance to Bleu’s investigation but I find no rhyme or reason to the madness. Organized chaos. That’s what it looks like to me.
I stop in the doorway and take a moment to watch my wife. She’s listening to a violin cover of “My Immortal” while standing before her new mysterious masterpiece. She’s rocking from one foot to the other while chewing a pencil. I almost think I can hear the gears grinding in her head.
“Well, that’s new. And interesting.”
She spins around, takes the pencil from her mouth, and tucks it behind her ear. “Hey, you. Come over here. You gotta take a look at this.”
I go to her, placing a quick kiss against her mouth.
“Someone tastes like whisky.”
“You sound surprised. I guess that means you didn’t get my text.”
“No. Sorry.” She scans the room. “Guess I didn’t bring my phone into the office.”
“I went by Duncan’s to take care of some Fellowship business. I ran into Jamie and Leith. We had a couple drinks so we could catch up.”
“Good. I know you must miss hanging out with your friends.”
I think she feels guilty for cutting into our triad’s time together. “It’s all right. I sort of like my new friend.”
“You said you were tending Fellowship business. Everything okay?”
“Aye. A few of the brothers have expressed interest in opening a gentlemen’s club.”
“A gentlemen’s club.” Her words ooze with contempt. “And I suppose they’ll want Fellowship women to work in it?”
“Of course. It would work the same as any other Fellowship business.”
“I’m all for Fellowship women working to earn a living. If they choose to do that topless, that’s their prerogative but can’t we provide them other career choices besides being strippers and barmaids?”
“We do, Bonny. There are a lot of options. You’re not aware of them yet because you haven’t been around long. You’ll see there’s lots of opportunities for any woman who wants to work.”
She appears less defensive. ??
?I’m glad to hear that.”
Good. She seems content.
I move my attention to the newly decorated office wall. “Taking up some new form of abstract art as a hobby?”
“No. I met with Debra today for the first time. We had lunch and then she came over to take a look at my evidence. She helped me set this up. It’s brilliant.”
Debra? “Remind me who she is.”
“My dad’s former undercover partner. She quit the Bureau and went freelance. She was also my eyes and ears while I was studying you from afar.”
“Ah. She’s the woman who ran surveillance on us.”
“No. She’s the woman who ran surveillance on you for years and was completely undetected.”
“Aye. Very true.” I can give credit where it’s due.
“It was a great meeting. Not just because she helped me with this. She told me all kinds of stories from when she and Dad were partners. I enjoyed hearing about their antics.”
Bleu says little but she’s still mourning the death of her father. And the loss of her sister. She occasionally tells me she needs alone time in the tub but I know what that really means. She needs a good cry.
She looks at the clock on the wall. “Wow. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I’m sorry. I got caught up in this. I haven’t put anything on for dinner.”
I don’t mind. We’ve been in Edinburgh a week and my sweet Bonny Bleu hasn’t stopped. When she isn’t researching the men on the list my father gave her, she’s spending time with the women of The Fellowship. She’s even offered to teach photography to anyone who’s interested.
She’s striving so hard to win them over. A suggestion from my mum, I’m sure.
“No problem. You need a break—let’s go out for dinner.”
“Can I tell you about a breakthrough I found first?”
She’s so excited. There’s no way I can burst her bubble. “Go ahead.”
She points to the photo on top with three strings connected to it.
“Todd Cockburn is a suspect?” He’s a pit boss at the casino. The only way his hands are ever dirtied is by money.
“He was in the US during the murder and—wait for it—he worked at the same Fellowship casino as my mother in Biloxi, Mississippi. The timing is off. I haven’t worked that part out yet but they would’ve been coworkers before I was born.”
I hate being her killjoy. “Your mother didn’t work for The Fellowship. Don’t you remember Dad saying he tried to convince her to come to work for him?”
“You’re wrong. I pulled her employment records. She worked at a Fellowship casino when your grandfather was leader. Thane didn’t meet her until after she left and was working for a non-Fellowship casino.”
That changes things. “Very interesting discovery.”
“I have Debra to thank for that tidbit. I’d like you to meet her. She could be a huge asset against The Order.”
My wife is remarkable. “You may not have been born into The Fellowship but you are destined to be one of us. No question about it.”
“I’m supposed to have a girls’ night out with Lorna, Westlyn, and a few of their friends Tuesday night. I want to suggest going to the casino.”
I know my wife. She doesn’t have to tell me what going to the casino means. She wants to question Todd Cockburn.
She arches her right brow. “Your thoughts?”
“You’re a card counter. We don’t allow your kind in the casino. It’s bad for business. I’m sure you understand.”
She grins. “I won’t be there for the cards.”
I’m not a huge fan of her interrogating Todd. “Have Debra question him.”
“What would be the fun in that?”
She truly enjoys the chase. I suppose I can concede and allow her a little entertainment since I know questioning Cockburn will prove fruitless. “You and the lasses enjoy your blackjack game. And don’t break the casino, please.”
* * *
Bleu holds the foot of the mattress for balance as she kicks out of her heels. When she’s finished, she comes to me and lifts her hair so her zipper is exposed. “Want to help me out of this?”
I lower her zipper but she doesn’t let her dress fall as I’d hoped. She holds the top and walks into the closet.
Damn, I hope that’s a sign she’s changing into something sweet and sassy. That’s what I have a craving for tonight.
I’m almost finished brushing my teeth when Bleu comes into the bathroom.
Hell, yes! She’s wearing the ivory slip gown with the ruffles—one of my all-time forever favorites. “I love seeing you in that.”
“Which is why I chose it.”
I finish my nightly routine before Bleu but I don’t leave the bathroom to get into bed. I stay so I can watch her.
Preparing for bed together is an odd thing for me to covet but I have since before Bleu became my wife. It’s something I’ve never shared with any other woman so I suppose that’s why it feels special.
“What are you doing?” The foam of the toothpaste spatters around her lips. It makes me want to kiss the minty bubbles away.
“You know what I’m doing.”
She rinses and spits. “Right. Because this is so sexy.”
It runs a close second to the way her silky gown clings to her curves. “You already know I think it is.”
She shakes her head and giggles. “My sweet, darling Breck. You’ll use anything as an excuse to get turned on.”
That needs clarification. “Aye, but only when it comes to you.”
I move to stand behind Bleu. I kiss her bare shoulder, watching our reflections as she melts against me. I brush her hair away from her neck, my mouth leaving a trail of kisses to that sweet spot below her ear.
She tries to twist in my arms but I hold her firm. I suck her earlobe into my mouth while gliding my hand around her waist. I lower it so my hand cups her crotch, my fingers circling her through the satiny fabric.
I flatten my palm against the center of her back and push. “Bend over.”
She lowers her upper body and holds the vanity, palms flat. She sways her hips from side to side so she’s rubbing her bum over my growing bulge. I use my foot to tap each of her inner ankles. “Spread your feet.”
I push the back of her nightgown upward. She grasps the front holding it in place with her clenched fist.
I palm her satin-clad bum. I glide my fingers through the part of her thighs and rub the crotch of her knickers. She’s already wet. That makes me very happy. And hard.
I clench the waist of her knickers in my fist and pull them down her legs. They become a pile on the floor.
My fingers glide through her slick cleft. She rhythmically shifts her hips, rocking against my hand.
I’ve come to know my wife’s body well. This will be short-lived. She’ll come quickly.
With my free hand, I reach for her chin. I grasp it, forcing her to watch our reflections in the mirror. “Look at me. I want to see your face when you come.”
Bleu opens her mouth and sucks two of my fingers inside. She bites them firmly but not hard enough to cause pain.
Her eyes close. “Bonny. I want those baby blues on me.”
Her lids flutter open and I recognize the growing frenzy on her face. Her climax is close.
She sucks harder. Her subdued moan vibrates in her mouth against my fingers. I ache to see the outward reactions of her inner body imploding with ecstasy. There isn’t a damn thing I enjoy seeing more.
Watching Bleu come like this is intense. It’s arousing as hell. My cock throbs, prepared to do whatever it takes to be inside her.
I one-handedly push my sleep pants down. I guide my tip to her warm, wet entrance. I enter slowly, giving her a moment to acclimate to the position. “Good?”
She releases the suction on my fingers. Her eyes are still watching mine. “Yes. And now I want to watch you come.”
I grasp her hips and guide them in counteraction. We master the motion and speed the rhy
thm. This position allows me to get inside her deep and fast.
I slow because my orgasm is building. I try to prolong it but it’s useless. Bonny feels too good.
She watches my face intently when I grip her hips and thrust urgently. “Come inside me. Deep and hard.”
Fuck. Her words are my undoing.
I fill her with a part of myself until nothing’s left. When I finish, I’m spent and empty.
I lean forward and press my forehead to her back. “My sweet Bonny. When we met, all I wanted to do was fuck you. I daydreamed about it day and night. I fantasized about the ways I would do it. This one was at the top of my list.”
“You got your way.”
“Somewhere in the midst of envisioning all the ways I’d have you, I got greedy and wanted you to love me.”
“Again, you got your way.”
I pull out and she twists in my arms. I squeeze her tight, lifting her to sit on the vanity. She drapes her arms around my shoulders and wraps her legs around my waist.
“You always make love to my mind and fuck the hell out of my body. Never stop.”
“Not a chance.”
I kiss her quickly. “Come. I have something I want to show you.”
I’m nervous as I lead her to the bedroom and fetch a paper from inside the top drawer of the nightstand.
We sit on the side of the bed. “I’ve been researching fertility clinics and I think I’ve found a good fit.”
“You’ve been searching for a fertility clinic without me?” A deep V appears between her brows as she narrows her eyes at me.
Uh-oh. She’s pissed.
“Nothing in-depth—just a little simple Internet search in my spare time.”
Her scowl doesn’t improve as she reaches for the folded printout. “Let me take a look.”
I give her the sheet and point to the one at the top. “I found several potentials but this one in London has the highest success rate.”
According to what Bleu has told me, we’ll need the most highly skilled physicians available. “Most clinics I found typically have a success rate somewhere in the thirties, up to forty percent. This facility’s standard averages around fifty-eight percent.”