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Getting to Hamish before he gets on the Council is a good move. Jonjo may have issues keeping his cool, but his mind works fast, always a step ahead. He’s playing chess while the others are playing checkers.
“Being proactive in case he’s elected,” I say. “Very good. I’ll be there within the hour. Be ready to go.”
“Aye. Always ready.”
“Always,” I repeat back to him.
We hang up and I slip my phone back in my pocket.
Another conservancy means more jobs for outsiders and less production of our land and seas by the good people who’ve lived here for generations. Makes me want to take my belt back off and go take out my aggression on the pretty tree hugger I’ve got locked in the other room.
If we could just get the eco do-gooders to leave our land, let us live in our old ways, our ecosystem would care for itself, and the true islanders could be at peace. Instead, with more curious eyes on the island, wages go down, costs go up. We’ve had to find less-than-ideal ways to make ends meet.
I run a hand through my hair. If I leave her here, by morning her friends will be calling Collins. Her being our only witness, if she truly won’t talk, the easiest thing would be to let her off with a warning and take her home now. As of now, Eamon and I and my informant at the station are the only ones in our gang who know she’s a witness. Eventually word will get around that the pretty American girl almost went to the police, but by then things’ll have died down.
I unlock the door, opening it slowly, enjoying one last long look at her in all her captive beauty. “Time to get dressed,” I say, crossing the floor to her. I untie the blindfold. She blinks against the dim light. I quickly unlock the cuffs, hooking them back around the leather for storage.
I doubt she’ll be running off into the hills after what I’m about to tell her. “Did you learn your lesson?”
“Yes.” Shyly she looks down at her hands, rubbing her wrists where the cuffs held her.
Marks on her wrists. Marks on her ass. Ones that will remind her of me. Of her time here in the cottage. Of the danger that waits for her if she disobeys again.
Her pretty brown eyes rise to meet mine. “Have you decided what to do with me?”
“I’m taking you to the lodge,” I say.
Her brows rise, hope hidden in the deep brown depths of her gaze. “Really?”
“Yes. If you’ll truly be good and keep your nose where it belongs—out of the business of the men on this island.”
“I’ve learned my lesson. I swear.” I find her earnest looks to be convincing. “Take me back. Please?”
“Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. We can talk about coming to an agreement.”
When she returns to the kitchen table, her coat zipped up to her chin, I’ve two cups of hot tea waiting for us. There’s no milk here but I’ve found some sugar cubes in a bare cupboard, adding two to both.
“Thank you,” she says, gingerly slipping into the same blue chair she first sat in. She cradles the warmth of the mug in her hands. “For the tea.”
“Talk,” I say. “Convince me I can take you back to the lodge and no one will be any the wiser about what happened that night.”
She stares down in her tea for a moment, contemplating. “The only ones who know I’m gone are two of my friends. We were watching a show when I snuck out. They think I’m at the police station. If you drop me off a few meters from the lodge, I can walk back, alone. I’ll tell them I went to the police station, then thought better about it—they did warn me not to go, by the way—and that I realized it was a mistake and had them drop me off down the road.”
It's not a bad plan. And I’ve got bigger haddock to fry. Babysitting her isn’t exactly going to fit into my work schedule right now.
Her cheeks are still rosy from my touch. She shifts her weight from ass cheek to ass cheek, her skin stinging from my belt. Knowing her sore ass is against the hard wood chair makes me hard.
I shift my own weight, discreetly tugging at the tightness in my jeans under the table.
She blows on her tea before sipping it. “I like tea better without the milk.” She eyes me, searching my face for a decision.
Maybe she has learned her lesson. What reason does she have to go against me and tell? She can move on with her internship—she’ll be gone in a few months anyway—and I can get back to work. Collins will have to eat shit when he finds out his star witness is alive, well, and no longer eager to share.
I take a sip of the sweet, hot, earthy tea. “Keep talking.”
She can see she’s wearing me down. “I’ve got no need to talk to the police. I get it now. Things here work different. The men run the show. Not the cops. I just want to keep my head down and do my work.”
“You cannae go to the police.”
