Bassist Instinct (The Rocker Series #2) (28 page)

“Never better, love,” Tate said and kissed her again. He looked at the security guy and nodded with a guilty grin. She brought her hands to either side of his face and looked at him closely.

“This is crazy, but I’m having the time of my life.”

“Me too, Fi. Me too,” he said and she snorted.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” she said still smiling at him.

“So do I, and yet, here it is staring me in the face with pretty blue eyes,” he helped her off the floor and placed her on the sofa and then knelt next to the cello. It was completely destroyed.

“Let’s make those cookies,” she said excitedly.

“Fiona,” he said, bringing her back to the crisis at hand. “We’ve destroyed your cello, I’m afraid.”

“I know, and I’m okay with it. One more shot and then cookies.”

“You are the least high maintenance woman I’ve ever met.”

“Least high maintenance? That sounds funny. Least maintenance?”

“Lowest maintenance? Feck it, kiss me again.” He pulled her to him and clamped his mouth on hers. “You make a very fun drunk,” he said after a while.

“I passed the test?”

“Absolutely, let’s get naked.”

“Let’s get naked and dance some more.”

“Christ woman, it’s like you’re reading my mind.” He grinned again but then rolled his eyes as the security guys traded places, one upstairs and one downstairs. Fiona watched them confer quietly in the foyer and she sighed. “All right, we’ll bake cookies first, then we’ll go upstairs to dance, aye?”

“Aye, aye. Isn’t ‘aye’ a Scottish thing?”

“Aye. It’s more of a Connor thing. The man’s a feckin’ bellwether.”

“What? A goat?”

“A sheep, love. He’s the sheep the rest of us sheep blindly follow. We can’t help ourselves. He starts winking, the rest of us do; he says ‘aye,’ the rest of us do. A few years back it was ‘crikey.’ The press thought we were from Australia,” he laughed dragging her into the kitchen. “That was embarrassing.”

“For the Australians?” He laughed and wagged a finger at her.

“You are a very funny lemming.” He kissed her again. “But the Irish do say ‘aye’ and we say ‘crikey’. We say ‘like’ more though. ‘He’s as useless as a chocolate teapot, like.’” She laughed at his brogue.

“I love it. I love it most when you get all Lucky Charms, like.” Her accent was surprisingly good, he thought. It must be the ear for music. Or having grown up as Billy McBride’s daughter.

“Do you now?” He pulled her close. “That can be arranged, don’t ya know? It’s funny, my mates in Ireland say I sound like an American.” She shook her head and ran her fingernails above his ears through his hair. His eyes fluttered closed. “Crikey. That feels good. Speaking of Australians, do you know what an Aussie’s kiss is, love? Because I’d like to give you one, like.” She giggled.

“Nope, is it like a French kiss?”

“Aye, just so,” he took her hand and led her toward the stairs. “Only it’s down under.” They laughed and ran up the stairs, all thoughts of cookies gone.

***

Slamming her government book shut for the night, Tess stood and stretched. It had been days since she did her Tai Chi and her body complained. Maybe a run was what she needed. The feeling of being caged was getting more intense every day, she didn’t know how much longer she could stand her captivity. She wished she could just run in peace, without the bodyguard. She looked at the clock, it was almost 11:00. A run, definitely.

Changing quickly into an athletic bra, a hoodie and yoga pants, she trotted down the steps and saw Sam at the door, checking it was locked. He looked up at her, his face unreadable.

“I thought Martinez was here.”

“He was, he got off an hour ago. Now I’m here, Liz is catching a nap.” He said looking at her outfit. “Are we running?”

“I need to blow off some steam, do you mind?” He shook his head.

“I’d rather do it in the daylight, if it’s all the same to you.” She looked longingly at the door and then turned to go back upstairs.

“You’re right, this is stupid.”

“Hey, if you need to blow off steam, how ‘bout we spar a little. You game?”

“Like boxing?”

“Hand to hand. You do Tai Chi, right?” She nodded. “Okay, I’ll teach you how to fight dirty.”

“I don’t want to fight dirty, this is about the Zen of movement.” He took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye making her breath hitch.

“Why’d the Major teach you Tai Chi in the first place?” Sam asked her seriously.

“Edgar? Because I asked him to.” He let one shoulder go and moved his hand in a circular motion so she’d continue. “Because I didn’t want other people fighting my battles, and because I don’t like feeling vulnerable.”

“Was there a particular incident?” She remembered that summer a few years ago, when she was at her most vulnerable and she swore to never be again, and the lame boyfriend who was incredibly rude when she could have used a friend.

“Yes, I wanted to kick someone’s ass,” she said and Sam laughed, his whole face softened and Tess could only stare at him.

“So, this someone, would he have fought fair?” Tess thought about it. The worst Rory would have done was probably try to cop a feel. Unsavory, but not life threatening. The other guys that summer and the Russians who were after the blood diamonds they thought Fiona had, however, would fight dirty. That was why she had an armed guard 24/7. She looked Sam in his deep brown eyes with resolve.

“Teach me how to fight dirty.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, only a little surprised she didn’t hem and haw. Tess felt a warmth settle in her belly at his words.

***

The cookies were in the oven and Tate was chopping tomatoes for the salad. When he squatted in down to get the salad bowl out of the cupboard, his t-shirt rode up and Fiona saw scratch marks descending into his pants, and she felt dizzy. She pulled his shirt up and looked more closely. He stilled his body and turned his head to look at her. At the expression on her face he stood up and turned around completely, making her look him in the eye.

“What is it? Have I got a great big hairy mole? Resembling a spider?”

“Tate, I’ve hurt you.”

“No,” the word was drawn out. “That I would have noticed. You make me feel good, Fi.” Way too good.

“I’ve broken your skin,” she looked at her nails to see if there was any blood under them. “I’m so sorry.” He cocked his head and held her close.

“Fiona, when we first made love I told you I wanted to feel you rake your nails down me spine, I wasn’t joking. I like it. When you lose yourself like that, I feel bloody brilliant. The scratches remind me through the next day that I made you a little wild, that I made you scream my name in ecstasy, and you wanted me as deep as I could get. And Fi, you were screaming, bursting at the seams and by Christ, love, I like that a lot. It makes me feel invincible.” He kissed her and grinned. “And it’s like you’ve marked me as your own.”

“Oh,” she still looked unsure.

“I’ll never hurt you Fi, I swear it.” He knew she was thinking of getting spanked. “I swear it,” he said again, looking her in the eye and she nodded.

“I believe you. I just don’t want to hurt you, it seems wrong.”

“It would be wrong if you did it on purpose and I didn’t want you to. Don’t overthink it, you’ll make me blush.” She cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Have you ever blushed?”

“Not since I was thirteen and I had a cock-stand in maths class. Kids are bloody brutal.” She laughed.

“You are very funny, Tate. I really enjoy your company. I haven’t laughed quite so much…well, since Liam used to stuff plush animals into his pajamas and dance like Michael Jackson,” she smiled remembering. “Which was some time ago. As I said earlier, I’m having the time of my life. Two minutes ago I was worried that I was an abuser and then you have me laughing at your thirteen year old self.” She hugged him tightly and the timer went off. “Thank you.” She let him go and checked the cookies.

“Thank you for that image of Liam,” he said with a smile. “Fi, shall I take your cello to a luthier to see if they can fix it?” He asked.

“No Tate, I think I’ll just let that go.” She smiled at him but he frowned. “The cookies are done. Let’s eat them in the living room.”

“Shall we finish making the salad?”

“Nah, life is uncertain, let’s eat the cookies first.”

She handed him the plate of cookies and got a trash bag out from under the sink for the cello pieces. He put the plate on the redwood table and sat on the floor next to the cello. The buzz from the tequila was still there, but she was starting to wonder if it was actually still from the drink, or if it was from Tate. He was definitely doing something to her equilibrium.

“It was Dean’s, and I couldn’t give it away, but keeping it was bothering me at the same time,” she sat down next to him. “Weird, I know.” She started putting the bigger pieces in the trash bag.

“It’s not weird, it’s probably very normal, which might actually be a little weird, now that I think about it. What’s this?” He turned a piece in her hand to show her something small and black duct taped to the broken pieces of wood. It was a small black velvet bag, covered in duct tape. They looked at it and looked at each other, then looked back at the bag. Fiona took the tape off the bag and the thin strip of wood and looked at the small bag in her hand. Then she looked at Tate questioningly. Tate looked shocked. She started to open the bag with shaky fingers.

“Wait, do it over the table.” She jumped a little, looked around and opened the bag over the table so as not to lose any small stones to the vacuum later. There was no need, there was only the one stone and it was gigantic. They both stared at the rock, the size of a lime, sitting on her coffee table next to the plate of cookies. “Bugger!”

Fiona looked around nervously and put the diamond back in the bag and stood. Tate stood as well, and they ran upstairs to her room. She flopped on the bed with her eyes wide.

“What was Dean thinking?” Tate carefully laid himself across the bed next to her and propped up on his elbow to look at her.

“Fi, I know this has got to be tough for you, but what are you going to do? You could ring Liam, and he’d take this off your hands, but would that stop the bad guys from trying to get you? Do we somehow tell the bad guys that we found it, and get it to them so that they stop hunting you?” He ran his hand through his spikey hair. “Do we want the bad guys to get away with all they’ve done? God, you’re lovely.” She smiled at him. “Really, your face is flushed and your eyes are dancing. It’s just like when I’m making love with you.”

“Tate, I can’t concentrate when you say things like that,” she said with an amused look. “Now what? I have to believe that my brother will do everything in his power to keep me safe. He always has.” She reached up and cupped his cheek. “I trust him, Tate.”

“Then ring him. Don’t tell him why over the mobile, but tell him he needs to come here, quick like.” Fiona nodded and pulled her phone out.

“McBride,” he said. He sounded tired and Fiona wondered how late it was.

“Hi Liam, can you come over?”

“Fi, are you okay? You sound strange. Is Tate being a bastard?” His voice perked up a little, she thought.

“No, Tate’s been keeping me entertained,” she bit her lip and looked at Tate who gave her a cocky smile. “But I need you. How long will you be?”

“Fi, I’m up to my elbows…”

“Liam, I made carrot cake, there are lots of carats, your favorite. With lots of walnuts. Say you’ll come.” He only hesitated for a second.

“Walnuts! I’ll be there as soon as I can, give me fifteen minutes. Just me? Or should I bring a friend?”

“That’s up to you, but they should be a really good friend, Liam, only someone you don’t mind sharing with.”

“I’ll be right there, Fi, save me a slice.” He ended the call.

“I’m sorry, but that sounded like a drug deal. What’s with the cake?”

“I didn’t want to say anything revealing, but he’s allergic to walnuts. I thought he might hear carat, like in diamonds, and see that something was up.”

“You are beautiful and clever, aren’t you?” He pulled her into his arms.

Chapter Eleven

 “We’ve got a diamond expert coming from Boston in about ten minutes, he’ll tell us everything we need to know,” Liam said to Fiona and Tate as they sat around staring at the rock.

“Won’t that be a little obvious if a diamond expert suddenly pitches up?” Tate asked.

“It would be, but his mother is the pro, he merely has the expertise. He runs his own company now, he invents stuff. Alasdair sent for him last night, apparently he knows Alasdair and he can keep his mouth shut.”

Just as Liam finished his sentence a motorcycle pulled up into Fiona’s driveway and a man dressed in leathers swung his leg off, grabbed a messenger bag and trotted up the stairs. The door opened before he could knock and he stepped in and removed his helmet and looked around.

“I’m Clay de Kooning,” he said to Liam as he handed his ID over.

Fiona had heard of de Kooning diamonds, Alasdair must really have connections, she thought as she watched the man do a double take when he saw Fiona, surprising her.