“You could offer her more money. Tell her we’re putting her in witness protection for a few weeks, and this is part of it.”
His mouth screws up, and he recoils as if I’ve just pissed on his leg. “Handouts? Absolutely not. Give her your cut if you’d like, but I’m not a bloody charity.”
“Bloody?” I roll my eyes. “You’ve been hanging around King too much.”
Jim sighs. “No, it’s the island or nothing, I’m afraid. Are you in or out?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I want the money. With it, I can finally return to Scotland. I haven’t seen my native land in nearly twenty years, and I can’t go back until I’ve paid a serious debt for a mistake made in my late teens. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt at home. The green hills and solitude call to me daily, even from this distance.
But is it worth putting up with Jim’s dysfunctional-family shenanigans?
“Do you think we could wrap this up before everyone gets to the island for the week-long retreat?” I ask. Because if I can avoid the games, I can avoid the socialization. “I mean, you don’t want her around all the murder anyway.”
Jim’s lips pinch together as he fights a smile. “Say it again.”
“Huh?”
“Better yet, say purple burglar alarm!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Are you going on about my accent again? You cannae focus on anything. Ach!” I throw my hands in the air and pace in a circle. It’s better than socking him in the chin. “I’ll fucking do it, but I’m not running interference if the games commence while she’s still on the island. You can figure that out.”
He raises his hands, palms out. “Fair enough. Now you just need to convince her that this is a good idea.”
“Convince me thatwhatis a good idea?”
Jim and I spin on our heels to face Quinn, who materializes in the hallway like a phantom. Despite the red rings around her puffy eyes, she’s still uncommonly pretty. Her dark blonde hair reminds me of honey as it falls over her shoulders and kisses the tops of her breasts. A snug cami hugs her midsection beforebowing out along the line of her full hips. She’s thick in all the right places, especially that extra bit of softness around her stomach.
Stop sexualizing your primary.
It’s bodyguard 101, for fuck’s sake. I’m here to protect her and keep her safe, not violate her with my dirty thoughts.
Even if she forces me to think them each time she does a show.
“We were just discussing how best to protect you, dear girl,” Jim says with all the sweetness and gentleness of a father. “But where are my manners? My name is Jim Madigan, and I’m?—”
“You’re the man who sold me the beach house,” she says. “I’ve never met you, but I saw your name on the paperwork. Have you been stalking me?” Her gaze flicks to me. “Was this all a setup? AreyouDesmond? Oh my god, it all makes sense now! You’re fucking Desmond!”
With a squeal, she bolts for the front door. I step into her path, and she collides with my chest and bounces back as if she’s struck a brick wall. She lands in a heap on the floor, eyes wild and mouth agape.
I offer her my hand, but she scoots backward like a terrified kitten, hissing and fluffing and swiping her claws.
“I’m not Desmond, lass. I’m Aven Slade, same as I was yesterday and same as I’ll be tomorrow.” I nod at the most nonthreatening man to walk the planet, despite his disgustingly high body count. “That’s Jim, my boss, and we want to keep you safe, I assure you.”
She licks her lips and blinks much too quickly as her eyes jump between us. Outside, thunder rumbles overhead as sheets of rain patter against the tin roof. It’s as if even God means to terrify her.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you, that much is true,” Jim says, “but my motives were not nefarious in nature. Convincingyou to buy the beach house was a little devious on my part, but it was all to protect you. You’ve been on Desmond’s radar far longer than you realize.”
“You convinced me to buy that beach house?” Quinn looks between us, but her eyes land firmly on me. “And you? We didn’t just meet by chance?”
“Afraid not, lass.” I stuff my hands into my pockets and shrug. “Our meeting was more orchestrated than I led you to believe. But the rest of it is just as he says. You’re in more danger than you realize.”
“Desmond is...” Jim looks at me, searching for a way to put it that won’t freak her the fuck out.
“He’s a serial killer, and you’re his current obsession,” I say, putting it plainly, which is usually the easiest way, if not always the best. “If he gets his hands on you, that’s it. You’ll be dead within a day.”
“We don’t know much about him, but what we do know isn’t good,” Jim adds.