Mac (Mountain Men 2)

It’s just a kiss… just a kiss… and yet somehow this kiss tells me he’s the kind of man who will dominate me in the most delicious ways. He’s holding himself back. He’s a man who knows what he wants and gets it.

The kiss is brief, nowhere near as long as I wish it were. He pulls away and kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear, “I could kiss you all day and not tire of it. But if your bodyguard sees us…” his voice trails off. He doesn’t know who I am, but maybe he knows enough.

I nod. “Wow.”

He smiles at me and chucks me under the chin. “Wow’s right. Meet me for a drink this evening, Bryn, will you?”

I nod before I can even process what I’m doing. Of course I need to see him again. I have my methods of getting away from my bodyguards, and the good news is, since they’re new, I can use all my tried-and-true methods without them being onto me. Yet.

He hands me his phone, and I punch in my number.

“Aye,” I whisper. “I’d like that.” I glance at the clock. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

I’m so angry that my father’s insisting on seeing me. I’ve got so much work to do, it’s near crippling. I’ll have to arrange time to come back here tomorrow, no matter what. I shouldn’t say yes, but dammit… I can’t say no.

“Can I pick you up at home, or should we meet somewhere?”

“Let’s meet somewhere,” I say, trying to stifle my disappointment. I'd like to be picked up at home, but my father would never allow it. And I don't want to put Mac in danger's way, either. If my dad knew he was interested in me, he'd be in so much trouble I can't even think about it. No, much better to keep our relationship or… whatever this is… quiet. Much better to play it safe.

He waves goodbye to me, and my heart does another little jig. I should probably not let myself get seduced by a man I don't even know. I know this logically. Of course. But a lass can live a little… right?

Warning bells clang in my mind.

You’re moving too fast.

It isn’t safe.

Don’t trust him.

Be careful.

I shake my head and give my mental censor the middle finger.

One drink never hurt anyone.

Right?

Chapter 3

Mac

“How’d it go?”

Tate’s waiting for me in the car we took to the city, parked just outside the cemetery. It's one of our favorite places to park, because we can easily hide beneath the low-hanging tree branches. It wasn't much of a walk from the city centre, but far enough that she won't see me here.

“Och, better than I fuckin’ expected. Can’t believe I’ve still got it after all these years.”

Tate snorts. “You’re twenty-five fucking years old. You talk as if you’re an old man.” I laugh and roll my eyes, but the truth is, being a high-ranking member of the Cowen Clan means you age a bit quicker. I learned to shoot when I was twelve, lost my virginity at fourteen, had my first smoke at sixteen, and witnessed my first execution the same year. By the time I dropped out of school, I reckoned myself more ready for the world than my damn teachers.

I didn’t need a diploma to help me get a job. I was earning six fucking figures before my twentieth birthday, and mid-six figures before I turned twenty-one. In some countries, that’s the legal age to be drinking. I was a seasoned man by then.

“She fell for it, hook, line, and bloody sinker,” I mutter with a grim smile. I played her so easily it was like taking candy from a baby.

That’s why I feel guilty, I tell myself. It was too easy, no challenge at all.

That’s the only reason I feel guilty.

“Did she?” Tate asks, cranking the engine and making sure we aren’t followed. “Bloody hell, brother. I give you credit. Didn’t think she’d fall that easily. Thought she’d be a bit more wary, ‘specially when she got a whiff of that fuckin’ cologne...”

He winces and laughs when I slug his shoulder.

I stare out the passenger window as he heads out of the city centre and toward the road that takes us north to the Highlands.

"Honestly, I didn't expect it either,” I admit. I look out the window. Thinking.

She's lonely. Repressed. Eager for attention, and I used that to my advantage. I'm doing exactly what Leith wants me to do, exactly what I need to do to avenge my sister, to defend my family.

Then why does it make me feel so bloody awful?

She’s so much more fucking beautiful than she was in the pictures I saw. Her pale blonde hair hangs nearly to her waist, wavy and thick. She wears no makeup except the lightest pink lip gloss. She’s slender but curvy with legs for days.