Page 35 of Savage Justice

CHAPTER 9

Nico

I wasn’t lying when I said I’d been busy. Tony and I have spent the last couple of days bullying tame officials at the Crown Office and Procurator Fiscal Service to swing bail for Jonas Bairstow. Our man, complete with crutches, was finally spat out of Barlinnie Jail first thing this morning.

We picked him up within the hour. He’s currently residing in our kill room in the basement until we have time to interrogate him properly. He won’t be going anywhere, and I have time to turn my attention to more pressing matters.

Like Molly.

Amelia Lowe, known as Molly, renowned artist and sculptor with several sold-out exhibitions to her name in most major European cities. Whilst I was cooling my heels in the corridors of power, I had time to do a spot of Googling. There was a wealth of information about Molly, so I really had no need to quiz her about her work. I suppose I was just interested to hear how she’d describe herself.

From my research, I know she specialises in contemporary sculpture and her pieces sell for five-figure sums. She is exhibited in the finest galleries in London, New York, Las Vegas, Dubai, and is in demand for prestigious lecture tours. Her work is mainly ceramics, but she paints, too. Portraits mainly, and usually by commission. An original Amelia Lowe will set you back the price of an average house. No wonder she could simply up and leave her old life behind and start over.

Jack did the right thing, offering to display that collage in the entrance hall at Caernbro Ghyll. An original Lowe, it’s probably going to be worth a fortune.

At this precise moment, though, it’s the woman not the artist who has my attention.

I cup my hands under her bottom to support her while I return the kiss. It’s a pity the table is still strewn with art materials, I could have deposited her there. I break the kiss momentarily and glance around for an alternative.

I settle on the chaise longue. A delicate-looking piece, it must be tougher than its appearance suggests because it’s been around for a couple of centuries at least. I hope so anyway, because I have a workout in mind.

I manoeuvre towards it and drop to my knees to deposit Molly on the embroidered taffeta cushion, then return to the kiss. She opens for me, accepts my tongue when I thrust it between her lips. I lean in for a spot of leisurely tongue-fucking, the prelude to the rest of what I have in mind.

She’s wearing a loose-fitting long-sleeved T-shirt and chino pants, and my main aim right now is to divest her of them. I peel away her top to find another delightful bra beneath. Fashioned in pale-pink silk and artfully crafted to make a nonsense of the laws of gravity, it displays her to devastating effect.

Molly Lowe appreciates beautiful things. Stands to reason, I suppose, since that’s what she creates.

She helpfully raises her hips to allow me to remove her chinos. It doesn’t surprise me to find matching knickers, which I leave in place for now. I also enjoy the finer things in life, and Molly is all of that and more.

Our first time was a bit on the frenzied side, I have to admit that, but I won’t make the same mistake again. This time will be slower, more leisurely. I mean to savour her.

She reaches for my shirt and fumbles with the buttons. Too fast. I capture her hand and raise it behind her head. I do the same with the other one.

“Keep them there,” I command.

Her eyelids flutter open. Her brow furrows ever so slightly.

“Trust me,” I murmur.

She closes her eyes again and relaxes against the upholstery.

I’m wearing a business suit, required dress for a morning spent hanging around in courtrooms and lawyers’ offices. I shrug the jacket off and loosen my tie, then I have a better idea and remove it altogether. I wrap the silk fabric around her wrists then loop the end around the arm of the chaise longue and fasten it off there.

She tugs against the bonds, but only briefly.

“Trust me?” I repeat, making it a question now rather than a command.

She pauses for a moment, then nods.

I kneel beside the chaise longue and admire the feast on offer. Slowly, because the door is locked and I have all the time in the world, I explore her body with my lips, my tongue. I nuzzle my way across her clavicle, kiss my way down the valley between her breasts, exquisitely framed in the designer underwear, then across her abdomen to her navel. I pause there, dip my tongue in the sensual indent and inhale the fresh, earthy scent of her.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Molly Lowe. I thought so the first time I saw you, on your doorstep. The day I brought Molly home.”

“You never… I mean, you just left…” Her voice is fractured, as though she’s struggling to catch her breath.

“It was complicated. And Lucy needed you right then.”

The circumstances on that day were just… awful. The kid came first, not my rampant dick. Had it been different, had I spotted her across a bar or a theatre, I think I’d have left scorch marks on the floor getting over to her.

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