Hard Justice: A Cobra Elite Novel

by Clare, Pamela

  Patel’s mouth formed an O of surprise.

  Elizabeth went on. “Between you and me, Wilson is wasting his time if he thinks either Quinn or I had anything to do with Jack’s alleged drug dealing. Quinn can’t even bring himself to believe that Jack was dealing drugs, even after getting the news about the toxicology reports. You’re on a fishing expedition, but you won’t find anything because there’s nothing to find.”

  “Why did you visit the site of the murder?”

  “Quinn is grieving right now. Surely, that’s not hard to understand. If someone you loved were murdered, wouldn’t you want answers? You might even want to go to the place that person died to pay your respects.”

  Patel’s gaze dropped to the table. “My sister was killed in a crash. We put flowers by the side of the road where it happened every year.”

  “I see you understand.” Elizabeth stood. “Unless you’re going to arrest us, I think it’s time Quinn and I were on our way.”

  “There’s a lot to see in Scotland. You should be enjoyin’ your holiday and no’ playin’ detective.” Patel stood and opened the door. “DS Wilson will arrest you if he thinks you’re tamperin’ with his investigation.”

  Elizabeth stepped into the hallway then turned back to face Patel again. “Did you find the man who followed us?”

  “Not yet.”

  “How long have you had us under surveillance?”

  Patel’s pupils dilated—an adrenaline response. “I don’t know what you’re goin’ on about.”

  Liar.

  Elizabeth smiled. “Right.”

  She walked down the hallway, spotted Quinn in another room with Wilson, his face almost as red as his hair. She tapped on the glass, smiled, motioned for him that it was time to go.

  He stood, shouted something at Wilson, then joined her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “The bastard wanted to know whether Jack and I were dealin’ drugs together. He didnae ask it outright, but I know what he’s thinkin’. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  They walked through the lobby and out the door in silence, Quinn’s anger palpable. Only when they were out of the building did he speak, cursing most of the way back to the car.

  “Wilson dreamed up some idea about the two of us—Jack and me—bringin’ drugs into the country from Afghanistan.”

  “Patel asked me the same thing—whether I’d ever brought back heroin from Afghanistan.” As outrageous as it was, Elizabeth understood. “They must have a good reason for considering this as an angle. They have a murder to solve, and they’re going where the evidence takes them.”

  “Bastards.” Quinn took the car keys out of his pocket, unlocked the doors.

  “You and I have a bigger problem.”

  Quinn opened her door. “What do you mean?”

  She took her cellphone out of her handbag and tossed her handbag onto the seat, then got onto her knees, turned on the phone’s flashlight, and looked beneath the car.

  “What the bloody hell are you doin’?”

  “Looking for a GPS transmitter. And there it is—near the muffler.”

  Quinn got down next to her, lay flat on his belly, looked. “Sweet sufferin’ shite!”

  He removed the device, which was held in place by magnets. “I’ve a mind to shove this up Wilson’s tight arse.”

  “Probably a bad idea.” Elizabeth stood, took the transmitter from Quinn, and started back toward the police station’s front doors.

  He got to his feet. “Where are you goin’?”

  “To give this back to Wilson.” She hurried inside, Quinn a step behind her, and spotted Wilson and Patel talking together. She walked over to them, dropped the device in Wilson’s hands. “I think this belongs to you.”

  The looks on their faces almost made her laugh.

  * * *

  Quinn took a sip of his whisky, wishing he had the bottle. “Is that what you get after servin’ your country—suspicion, slander?”

  Elizabeth sat on the sofa across from him, somehow unruffled by all of this. “If they’d had any evidence against us, they would have arrested us. They’ve got a murder to solve. They’re just doing their job.”

  “Doin’ their job? Harassing us is doin’ their job?”

  “They have to go where the evidence leads them. If they have reason to suspect that Jack was selling—”

  “Jack wouldnae sell drugs!” Quinn all but shouted the words, his temper frayed.

  He couldn’t read people the way Elizabeth could, but he knew she no longer believed him.

  Can you blame her?

  Even Ava was beginning to doubt, Ava, whom Jack had loved with all his heart.

  “Remember what I said yesterday—how some of what I say could be upsetting?”

  “Aye.” Of course, he remembered.

  “That’s where we are now. I’m sharing my professional assessment with you.”

  Quinn saw the sympathy on her face, the concern in her eyes, but it didn’t take the edge off his anger. Still, he didn’t want to take his temper out on Elizabeth. She’d come here on what could have been a holiday to help him. None of this was her doing.

  He took another swallow of whisky. “Your professional assessment is that Jack was sellin’ drugs.”

  “The evidence so far strongly suggests that.” She ran through it for him. “He was murdered in a concealed alley near his vehicle, which means he drove there himself. It’s an alley you can’t wander into by taking a wrong turn. You have to choose to be there. He chose to be there—at three in the morning.”

  She stood, came around the coffee table to sit on the arm of Quinn’s chair. “Someone he knew got close enough to him to kill him without Jack putting up a fight. There were no drugs in his system, but there were traces of two illicit drugs on his hands, in his pocket, and in his car. We know he lied about losing his cell phone.”

  She let that settle, taking Quinn’s left hand, which had balled into a fist, and teasing his fingers open until they threaded with hers. “I know you loved him. I know he was your best friend. I can’t imagine how horrible all of this is for you. But it’s not hard to see why the police believe he was somehow involved with drugs.”

  Despair seeped, thick and dark, into Quinn’s chest. “Aye.”

  “I won’t give up, Quinn. I won’t give up on him—or you.” She stood and took the tumbler from his right hand then set it on the coffee table and drew him to his feet.

  “I should go.” He reached for the tumbler.

  She caught his hand. “Why?”

  “I’m no’ fit company tonight.”

  “You want to drink. I know. You want to forget, to make yourself go numb. You’ve done that before. Will it fix anything?”

  “I’ll sleep.”

  “I know how to make you sleep.” She took a step back and started to undress.

  Quinn’s pulse skipped, his brain going blank.

  She unzipped her jeans, pushed them over the curve of her hips and down her slender legs. Next, she pulled her blouse over her head and dropped it on the floor. Then she unclasped her bra, those beautiful breasts springing free.

  Blood rushed to Quinn’s cock. “Are you offerin’ yourself to me?”

  She answered by taking his hand, leading him to her bed, and helping him strip. “Lie down.”

  Heart thrumming, he did as she asked, watching as she crawled onto the bed and straddled his hips.

  Her hands slid up his body from his obliques to his abs to his pecs, her mouth following, spreading fiery little kisses across his belly and chest, lavishing affection on each and every scar. He rested his hands on her hips, let her have her way with him, his cock aching to see how turned on she got touching and tasting him.

  Her gaze met his. “I want you.”

  “I’m all yours.”

  She took his cock and guided him inside her.

  It was like going home, her tight little quim closing around him like a fist, wet and hot. He
held himself still, let her set the pace, reaching down to stroke her clit with one hand, palming a lush breast with the other, her nipple pebbled and hard.

  “Yes.” Her eyes were closed now, her head tilted back, her nails digging into his pecs, her hips grinding against him.

  Sexual need drummed through Quinn like a pulse, making it hard for him to hold still. She was beautiful, so beautiful. Lilibet, his Lilibet. She was the answer to every question he’d ever had. He wanted her, needed her, wasn’t sure how he’d go back to a life without her, not when being inside her felt so right.

  She came with a cry, her inner muscles clenching around him, driving him out of his mind. When her peak had passed, he clasped her hips and drove himself into her, hard and fast, riding her from beneath, climax rushing through him as sweet as salvation, bliss shaking him apart.

  She sank against him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his cock still inside her. “I’ve got you, Quinn. I won’t let go.”

  Her words hit a tender place inside him, unleashing emotions he didn’t understand. He wrapped his arms around her, held onto her as the two of them drifted into sleep.

  11

  Elizabeth stood at the railing, looking out over the Bearsden bathhouse, the sunshine warm on her face. “It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that this is almost two thousand years old.”

  “Och, well, we’ve got standin’ stones that are older than this.” Quinn stood beside her, one hand resting against her lower back, making Elizabeth feel protected and turned on all at once.

  Then again, she couldn’t look at Quinn now without feeling aroused. In a single day, he’d gone from the sexy friend she’d fantasized about to the man who’d given her the best sex of her life. She knew how it felt to have his cock inside her. She knew the feel of his skin. She knew his taste. They’d been friends-with-benefits for only twenty-four hours, and already she was addicted to him.

  She ought to be terrified, but she wasn’t. For some reason, she trusted Quinn. She trusted him in a way she hadn’t trusted a man since Jason.

  “Standing stones? I’ve always wanted to see standing stones.”

  “Have you now?” His smile was warm, even teasing, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  They had already been to Old Kilpatrick, where they’d taken in the view from the site of the ancient Roman fort above the beautiful Firth of Clyde, and Duntocher, where they’d seen a section of the stone base of the Antonine Wall. After so many days of gray and rain, it was wonderful to see blue sky again.

  Though Quinn seemed to be enjoying sight-seeing, too, Elizabeth could tell from the shadows in his blue eyes that he was hurting, whether from the nightmare he’d had last night or because of the murder investigation or all of it together. He’d refused to talk about the dream or the investigation over breakfast today, instead asking her what she wanted to see.

  They strolled together through the ruins, the remnants of stone walls and floors revealing where the different pools had once stood. The frigidarium, or cold bath, had a horseshoe shape. The caldarium, or hot pool, was missing its stone floor. The tepidarium, an area like a dry sauna, still had visible ducts that had carried heated air from a furnace creating a kind of radiant heat.

  “To think that the Romans had radiant heat two thousand years ago.”

  Elizabeth came across another sign, which she read aloud. “‘When the Romans abandoned the Antonine Wall and Scotland for good in one-fifty-eight AD, they burned and destroyed their forts and buildings, including the baths.’ How sad.”

  “They couldnae give their enemies a place to shelter or leave anythin’ that might give them a tactical advantage, aye? Tribes of Picts occupyin’ Roman forts along the wall would have made the emperor shite himself.”

  She smiled up at him. “I guess your ancestors were one group the Romans couldn’t conquer.”

  It felt good to be with him. It felt natural to share the day with him.

  He grinned. “Aye, it’s true. That job was left to the bloody English.”

  After that, they made a short drive south to Crookston Castle, Elizabeth reading about it on her phone. “It says the first castle was built there in the eleven-hundreds. What remains today was built in fourteen-hundred. Mary Queen of Scots was betrothed to Lord Darnley there.”

  “A match made in hell.” Quinn parked at the edge of a grassy area. “There it is.”

  Elizabeth stepped out of the car and looked toward the top of the hill. There, peeking out from amid the bare branches of deciduous trees, stood Crookston Castle. “It’s not as big as I thought it was going to be.”

  Quinn grinned. “You were singin’ a different tune yesterday, doll.”

  Had he just made a dirty joke? Yes, he had—and he’d called her doll.

  Oh, she liked that.

  She laughed. “You bampot.”

  But now he had her thinking about his big, gorgeous cock and all the lovely things he could do with it, namely fuck her silly.

  They walked hand-in-hand up the hillside, the grass wet beneath their shoes.

  An idea came to her. “Have you ever had sex in a public place?”

  Quinn looked down at her, one brow arched. “Why are you askin’ me that?”

  “Sex in a castle might be fun.”

  “You’re serious.” He glanced around them, and she knew he was considering it. “There are people out walkin’, families wi’ wee ones. It’s a weekend, aye?”

  “I don’t see anyone around the castle.”

  “You’ll be givin’ Wilson a real reason to arrest us, you will.” Quinn shook his head—but he was smiling.

  * * *

  Quinn was disappointed to discover that they weren’t the only ones exploring the castle. An older couple poked about, speaking with very proper English accents.

  “This is the northeast tower.” Elizabeth read from her phone, pretending to be absorbed by the history of the place. “The two western towers were destroyed in the fifteenth century and never rebuilt.”

  But Quinn could tell what was truly on her mind.

  Sex.

  He hadn’t been able to think of anything else since she’d brought it up, lust driving away the lingering darkness from the nightmare about his mother, taking his mind off Jack’s murder. His cock was half-hard, his body hyperaware of her—every motion, every touch, every glance.

  They explored the castle’s prison, walked through the barrel-vaulted basement, and climbed the iron ladders up to the top of the northeast tower, her ass enticing him all the way. A fence formed a border around the edges of the tower, giving them a view of southeast Glasgow below.

  “Beautiful.” Elizabeth came to stand just in front of him, reaching back to rub her hand over his fly. “What’s that river?”

  “That’s Levern Water.”

  At one time, he had hated this place. Growing up, he’d thought of nothing but getting away. But the city had changed in the past decade, and so had he.

  Below, the older couple walked down the hill.

  She looked back at him. “They’re leaving.”

  “I see that.” Anticipation whipped through him, his jeans now uncomfortably tight. “Come.”

  She wanted sex in a public place, pure gaggin’ for it, and he would bloody well give it to her.

  He led her down the ladder to the room below. There was only one window, daylight streaming through an arched opening in the wall, the air thick with the scents of rain, moss, and the ancient echo of wood smoke.

  Quinn moved in on her the moment her shoes hit the floor, backing her up against the wall, desire rushing through his veins. “You’re wantin’ pumped the now, aye?”

  “If you’re asking whether I want you to fuck me right now, then, hell, yes.”

  He kissed her hard, already on fire for her. She kissed him back, reaching down to unzip first her jeans and then his, freeing his erection, stroking the length of him. Then she did something Quinn would never have imagined.

  She stepped away f
rom him into the middle of the room, pushed her jeans down to her ankles, and dropped onto her hands and knees, giving him a glorious view of her bare ass, exposing herself to him completely.

  “Jesus!” He took in the sight of her, his heart slamming.

  He dropped to his knees behind her, grasped her bare hips, and nudged his cock into her, entering her with a single, slow thrust.

  It felt so good, her quim tight and hot. He’d meant to go slowly, but the thrill of fucking her here was too much, the element of danger heightening his excitement. He pounded into her, hard and fast, but he didn’t want to leave her behind.

  He reached around to stroke her clit, doing his best to please her.

  Her response was immediate, her moans echoing through the castle.

  Then Quinn heard it—voices.

  “Shhh.” He clamped a hand over Elizabeth’s mouth—but he kept fucking her.

  When he was certain she understood, he went back to stroking her clit, still driving into her, the first hint of orgasm dragging at him, his balls tight.

  The voices grew nearer.

  Still, he didn’t stop, thrusting into her luscious body again and again and again, the risk of being discovered very real now—and very exciting. She was getting close, her hands clawing at the stone floor, her head tilted back, her eyes squeezed shut.

  She went stiff, gasped, arched, bliss like sunshine on her face as she came.

  That was all he needed, his hips a piston as he finished inside her, orgasm hitting him with the force of a blast wave, the release scorching and sweet.

  “I’m certain I was wearing both gloves when we climbed the tower.” Quinn recognized the voice. It was the Englishman they’d seen earlier. “You stay here, dear, and I’ll go up to see if it’s there.”

  Quinn withdrew from Elizabeth’s body, stuffed his half-hard cock back into his jeans, then helped her to her feet. Fighting laughter, she pulled up her jeans and had just zipped them when Quinn heard the man’s shoes on the ladder.

  “What year did you say it was built?” Quinn asked, pretending to be in the midst of a conversation.