In Her Secret Fantasy

by Marie Treanor

  And he let go the rock, hurling himself onto his targeted thug, who went down under him like a cuddly toy. It winded Aidan, seeming to shift something in his battered chest, so God knew what it did to the man beneath him. He didn’t wait to find out but delivered a forceful, well placed punch to the chin.

  The thug went out like a light, and a sudden racket of metallic clicks told him that the remaining six men all had guns trained on him. He looked over his shoulder to confirm it and raised his hands.

  “Sorry. I owed him. Come on, this way.”

  Even in the dark, the enforcer’s frown was more baffled than angry. “Where are my men?”

  “On the boat. One went for a swim.”

  The enforcer walked up to him, hauling him to his feet, shoving the barrel of the gun into his throat. “One more wrong move and I’ll kill more than your family and your woman. A bloodbath in this godforsaken village means nothing to me. Target practice for my men. You get that?”

  “I get that. Look, I’m just trying to do a bit of business. Len’s a liability, as you’ll see.”

  The enforcer delved into Aidan’s pocket, removed the gun he’d taken from the thug on the boat. Although it was expected, Aidan’s heart sank. He couldn’t shoot anyone sent ahead to terrorize the village, and somehow Aidan knew that wasn’t an empty threat. The man had done such things before. Terror was a forceful weapon.

  “Move,” the enforcer commanded. Aidan did. Two of the men dragged the unconscious thug along the beach. The rest surrounded Aidan, pushing and jostling him.

  On the roof garden of Ardknocken House, Chrissy said thoughtfully, “If Aidan stays in the police, I suppose he’d be taking a chance on me too. Given my association with ex-cons.”

  “Parole officers are still respectable.”

  “I’m not a parole officer anymore. I left with my reputation in ribbons. In certain quarters, at least.” She turned her head to gaze at his profile. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask. “You took a bit of a chance, asking me to join you here.”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t seem like one. I liked the way you did your job. You never talked down to us, just treated us like human beings. Plus…I wanted a bit of the parole officer authority.” His lips twisted. “I liked the guys I wanted to bring here, but let’s face it, they were never pussycats. We needed someone who wouldn’t take any shit, would spot trouble a mile away and deal with it.”

  “There’s never been any trouble,” she pointed out. Until now…

  “At least some of that’s down to you.”

  “I lost a lot of authority,” she remembered, not without bitterness. “In certain circles.”

  “Not many. Not with anyone who knew you, or who’d ever met that bastard. I asked you before you were attacked. I came back after because I thought you might want a change.”

  “A leg up,” she said. “Like the rest of you.” She refocused her gaze on him, gave a lopsided smile. “I think we’re doing all right. Dragging ourselves and each other up.”

  He nodded. “Apart from Len. There’s a lesson there.”

  “Maybe we have enough people,” Chrissy mused. “Or maybe we need new guys to be recommended by someone we all trust, for a reason we trust, not just by our own liberal instincts. White collar crime isn’t a guarantee of good behaviour.”

  “Far from it. Let’s take each case as it comes up. And be more careful.” He stood restlessly, swinging his arms around him in the cold, and wandering back towards the edge of the roof, hemmed in these days by an iron fence for the safety of Jack and, probably, Screw.

  “What were you doing out here anyway?” Chrissy asked belatedly. She’d no idea how long they’d been here, but it came to her the cold was seeping into her bones.

  “Just looking,” Glenn said. “The view’s good.”

  She followed him over, agreeing. For one thing, from up here there was a better view of the seals’ favoured beach than she got in her own room.

  Glenn drew a set of binoculars from his pocket and raised them to his eyes.

  “I think there are seals there,” Chrissy said, screwing up her eyes.

  “Maybe,” Glenn agreed. He sounded distracted.

  “What?”

  “I have to go out.” Abruptly, he turned away towards the living room window, but Chrissy grabbed his arm.

  “Glenn! What is it?”

  He hesitated, then passed her the binoculars. “They’re not seals.”

  Almost hidden by the shadows of the cliffs, several men were standing on the beach. They seemed to be dragging two of their number, one of whose hair gleamed bright gold under a sudden swathe of moonlight.

  Dizziness swam through her. She had to grasp the fence for support.

  “What… Shite, Glenn, what do we do?” she whispered. Her brain felt numb.

  He was already walking into the living room. “I’m going down there.”

  “Not on your own!” She charged after him.

  Although Glenn summoned only the “hard men” who could physically take care of themselves in most situations—and even then warned them they might be breaking their parole—everyone in the house except for Izzy and Jack turned out to join him and Chrissy on the front driveway.

  Shuffling into the night, they listened in a huddle to Glenn’s orders.

  “Dougie, you and Jim go down into the village, disable the limousine. Archie and Rab go that way too, and head along the beach to meet us. Let’s make it a two-pronged attack. Remember, they’re likely to be armed and trigger happy, and Len’s one of them. Chances are he’s dug up his gun too. Keep your phones on vibrate and keep out of sight unless I say. Remember, Aidan Grieve’s the good guy.”

  “Who’d have thought we’d be saving a cop’s life?” Dougie marvelled.

  “I don’t know that we are. We’re backup. But if the real cops turn up, we might want to—er—fade into the background. Anyone want to take house duty?”

  It was sort of an honourable way out for anyone too appalled by the complications. No one took it. Chrissy hadn’t really expected anyone to.

  “All right,” Glenn said. “Go.”

  Dougie and his squad ran to the garage for the car. The rest set off through the grounds for the cliff path to the seal beach.

  Chrissy, way to the front of the crowd, stopped suddenly to catch her breath and wait for Glenn.

  “I need to know,” she said intensely, striding along beside him. “Spill, Glen, everything you know that I don’t.”

  “I don’t know. I’m only guessing. But it’s like a sting, to nail the supply line and the source, or at least as close to the source as he can get. I’m pretty sure he nicked their heroin from that island to get the attention of someone big and set himself up as the chief suspect so he’d be dragged into the changeover.”

  “Changeover?”

  “Money for drugs.”

  Chrissy frowned as they broke through the trees to the cliff top. “Then he’s collecting evidence…” She stopped scanning the empty beach below and swung round on Glenn. “We need photographs!”

  He stared at her. “I was thinking of saving the guy’s arse, but if you want to take pictures, go ahead.”

  “In there,” Aidan said as one of the thugs shone a torch right on the cave mouth.

  Len thrust one arm into it. “It’s too narrow,” he said. “You’d never get a rucksack in there.”

  Aidan sighed as the enforcer seized his collar. “I took the stuff out of the rucksack. Push your arm through the narrow passage.”

  Len let out a grunt. “I’ve got something!” He emerged with a wrapped parcel which he held out like a prize.

  The enforcer released Aidan’s collar. “The rest,” he snapped, jerking his head at one of the thugs who stepped forward and put the parcel in his briefcase while Len brought out more packages of the same size.

  While the loading went on, Aidan tried not to glance around him. He bloody hoped Davidson was here, and there were certainly times towards the end of t
heir slog back along the beach that he’d been sure he heard the faintest rush of foot on sand, sensed human presence beyond his unsavoury companions. It may have been wishful thinking. Either way, he couldn’t string this out much longer. It was almost finished, and he was almost free.

  He hoped. He could still wind up dead before the end of the night.

  “There, that’s it,” Len said, drawing his arm out of the cave with some relief. The thug by the briefcases—he’d filled three to bulging point by now—nodded to the enforcer.

  “And the rest,” Aidan said.

  They all looked at him.

  “That’s it.” Len stared at him, scowling. “We’ve counted it all in.”

  Aidan looked at the enforcer. “May I?” he asked politely.

  The enforcer’s eyes narrowed, then he nodded, but his gun was back at the ready, and Aidan was pretty sure it followed him across to the cave.

  Len breathed, “I’ll cut you in. Just shut it, okay?”

  Aidan smiled and stuck his hand into the cave. Len stepped back, trying not to look worried. The rest of the parcels were difficult to get hold of. Aidan got his finger to one and dragged it free, then another. He dropped them both in the sand beside the briefcases.

  “There are more, but I’ll need a stick or something to get at them.”

  The enforcer frowned uncomprehendingly at Len. “Why is there more than we gave you? Do you have another supplier? Our deal was exclusive.”

  Len drew a breath that wasn’t quite steady, possibly realizing, finally, that he was no Mr. Big. But he hadn’t given up hope of weaselling his way out of trouble.

  “No, no, the heroin is all from you. We just…expanded it.”

  “We being Len and your local man, James Black,” Aidan explained. “They’re old partners in crime. You probably didn’t hear, not living here, but four people have died recently from contaminated heroin.”

  The enforcer’s jaw fell open. For the first time that night, he actually looked funny. “You contaminated our heroin?”

  “No, no,” Len denied hastily. “Just added a few bits and pieces to eke it out. Seemed like a good idea—make half as much money again. We were going to cut you in, of—”

  “Cut us in?” the enforcer exploded. “Fuckwit, we are businessmen. If people die from our product, their suppliers go elsewhere. They don’t need the heat. Plus, they spread the word that our product is bad. We businessmen lose, which is something we do not tolerate. How much of this shit is out there?”

  “Just the last shipment,” Len said desperately. “I used the money to buy Haines out of the line. I can do it better for you from up here. If you want the product left alone, I’ll leave it alone.”

  “Fucking right you will.”

  The enforcer snapped furious fingers, and this time a hard briefcase made its appearance. The holder opened it to reveal a lap top.

  “First,” the enforcer uttered, “you pay.”

  The moment of truth. If Davidson wasn’t here…

  Something moved in at the cliff. A light flickered, but no one paid any attention. All guns were trained now on Len, who, with shaking fingers, was accessing his account.

  Now, Davidson, would be a really good time…

  “It’s through,” the thug announced.

  Fuck.

  “Good,” the enforcer said. “Destroy that shit. It’s going nowhere.”

  The laptop case was shut with a contented snap. The enforcer turned on Aidan with new geniality. “You are a crazy son of a bitch.”

  “Please don’t say you like that.”

  The enforcer laughed. “I do. Fuck with me again, and I’ll kill your family. Shoot me this moron, and you have our business.”

  “I haven’t got a gun,” Aidan said. He hesitated. A weapon in his hands might save his life. On the other hand, he was well outgunned in this company, and if Davison was here, Aidan needed to be playing it straight.

  He sighed. “Besides, I’d rather arrest the bastard.”

  The enforcer slapped Aidan’s back hard enough to hurt. “Crazy fucker.” He swung his gun on Len, who threw up his hands in terror.

  “Why don’t you leave him to me?” Aidan suggested. “I won’t shoot him, but I’ve a few bones to pick.”

  For an instant, it hung in the balance, then the enforcer lowered his arm. “Knock yourself out, crazy man. I’ll take care of Black. My people will be in touch.”

  Fuck and fuck and fuck. No bloody Davidson. His one hope now was for the police to catch the limousine. Which meant he had to leave his phone with the enforcer to be tracked. And in a chase, who knew what could happen to the evidence? The computer, the drugs could all disappear, and he hadn’t so much as a photograph to prove their existence.

  Not the most successful operation of his career.

  “Let’s go,” the enforcer said, waving one imperious hand around his people, including the thug Aidan had landed on, who was now, rising groggily to his own feet, a thick trickle of blood down one side of his face. No way had Aidan got their numbers down to something he could deal with single-handedly and unarmed.

  The South American gaggle moved together, pocketing such weapons as had been on display. But quite suddenly there was more movement, more people, seeming to loom out of the darkness, spreading out around the group on the beach who halted, totally gobsmacked. Beams of light flashed straight into their eyes, blinding them. Hands and elbows raised in vain attempts to block it.

  “You’re surrounded. Nobody move,” commanded a harsh male voice from above the cliff. Aidan knew the voice, but it wasn’t Davidson’s. “Lay down the bags and the weapons, very, very slowly.”

  “Do it,” Aidan breathed. “I’m on it.”

  The enforcer gave the order, and there were several muffled thuds as bags and weapons hit the sand. Aidan promptly picked up the laptop case.

  “Glenn! It’s the filth!” said a very Glasgow voice in a stage whisper. It can’t have meant much to the South Americans, who’d just have seen reinforcements careering over the sand from the direction of the village. To Aidan, it meant, hopefully, that actual firearms had arrived on the side of good.

  None of the bad guys moved. The enforcer turned his head very slightly, as if, belatedly, having his doubts about Aidan. Aidan ignored him, as another movement caught his eye. Len, creeping around the cliff in the direction of the big house.

  Of course Len knew exactly who the voice on the cliff belonged to—Dougie—and was well aware that “filth” was unflattering slang for “police”. He hadn’t given the game away because he knew he stood a better chance with Glenn and Co. than with the South Americans.

  Aidan backed away, brushing against someone he thought was Charlie the painter, judging by the quiet voice that murmured, “All right?”

  Once past, Aidan lunged towards Len, but he was too late. Someone else ran behind him, shoving him face-first into the cliff and twisting his arm up his back.

  “No, you bloody don’t.”

  Chrissy. Bloody hell, it was Chrissy! His heart seemed to explode with pride and fear in almost equal measure. Len, realizing who his captor was, flexed his muscles, about to turn nasty. Aidan had no idea if she could deal with that, and no intention of risking her any further to find out.

  Arriving at full tilt, he kneed Len in the back and snatched the howling figure from Chrissy’s hold. Over Len’s shoulder, he met her gaze and held it. Only now did the fierce determination in her eyes turn to fear.

  Aidan began to smile. He knew exactly what he wanted.

  “Wait a minute,” came Davidson’s voice nearby. “Who the hell are these guys? Him, I know. Glenn bleeding Brody. Okay, you’re all going back inside.”

  “No, they’re not,” Aidan said, tearing himself away from Chrissy to stamp up to Davidson, dragging Len with him. “They’re with me. I asked for their help in case you didn’t make it on time. And if they hadn’t been here, you’d have no arrests.”

  “Plus,” Chrissy said coldly from
beside Aidan, “walking on the beach doesn’t break their parole conditions.”

  Davidson, dragging one harassed hand through his hair, glanced from her to Aidan and around the hive of arrest activity on the beach.

  “Suppose not,” he agreed.

  Aidan smiled and shoved Len at him. “Here’s Mr. Big.”

  Davidson snapped cuffs on Len, who looked more stunned than anything else. Avoiding Glenn’s contemptuous glare, he twisted around as Davidson hauled him away, and frowned at Aidan.

  “You set me up,” he said wonderingly. “You’re still a cop. You’re still a bloody cop.”

  Aidan’s lips quirked. “No, I’m not.”

  Chapter Seventeen It was light when Chrissy woke next morning, which told her she was late. Not surprising since she’d been up most of the night. She sat bolt upright in bed before she remembered Glenn had declared a holiday for anyone who wanted it. He’d asked Izzy to man the phone so Chrissy could sleep in.

  And she had. It was nearly eleven.

  Kneeling on the pillow, she pulled back the curtain and gazed out at the familiar rain misting the hills and the sea, almost obliterating the village from her view. She smiled, because despite the heart-pounding anxiety of last night, there had been the encounter on the boat with Aidan, and the mutual understanding that they should be together.

  When the bad guys had all been disarmed and cuffed and the evidence collected, they’d walked back along the beach to the village together: the police and their prisoners, the Ardknocken House lads, Aidan and herself. And while the police were filling their van with bad guys, Aidan had simply turned to her and kissed her in front of everyone.

  “I have to go to Oban, sort out evidence and paperwork. I’ll come over in the morning.”

  “Okay,” she’d said breathlessly. “Um, if you want evidence, we might have some more.” She’d taken her phone from her pocket and handed it to him. “Photos.”

  Aidan’s lips had quirked in the way she’d grown to love. “You’re amazing, do you know that?” And he’d kissed her again, more slowly this time.