Page 89 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

“At first it was harmless. But it turned physical a couple of nights ago. He grabbed me, but I fought him off. I’m a little bruised, but nothing is broken.” Her voice was factual and detached, like she was giving a medical report on some other person.

“You have a stalker? What are they doing to protect you? Have they caught the suspect?” I demanded. It was too much to take in with her so far away. She wasn’t big enough to fight some asshole off.

Jesus. Get a grip, Murdoch. She’s not the one you are angry with.

Her nervous laugh betrayed her anxiety. “I’ll be fine. I just don’t want to deal with all this crap over the holidays. The detective said. Wait just a second…” she broke off, talking to someone else nearby.

“Where are you now?” I cut in. Images of Holly alone on the streets of New York with her stalker tracking her were making me break out in a sweat.

“I’m at the police station near the hospital.”

“Get an escort to JFK. I’m getting you on the next flight out of New York to Edinburgh. I’d send my plane, but this will be faster. Don’t worry about packing. I’ll have what you need here.”

“Whoa. Slow down. I think you’re overreacting.” I could feel her surprise over the phone. “I just need a place to stay far away from here for a few days. A week at most.”

She had been injured. She was afraid, even if she didn’t want to admit it. She had a stalker for Christ’s sake, and there was not much I could do about it across an ocean.

“Holly, listen to me and get on a damned plane.” She inhaled sharply at my words. “There will be a first-class ticket waiting for you at the airport. Don’t go back to your place. Now, let me talk to the detective.”

That conversation was twelve hours ago. She texted me when she boarded the flight and when she had landed. Her messages were crisp, which I suppose wasn’t a surprise. This was the first time we’d communicated since May.

Now I was resentful as hell that I had to sacrifice my life in New York. But that wasn’t enough for my mother; she was also on the hunt for my duchess so she could have grandkids.

I wanted to keep Holly’s visit private, a tall order considering my mother’s information network of household staff and servants. So I’d arranged for her to stay at a nearby cottage where she’d be safe and away from prying eyes, but still under my care and protection.

Holly needed help. Asking for it couldn’t have been easy for her. I owed her all the protection I could provide.

“If you’ll excuse me.” I couldn’t sit still any longer. I pushed back my chair, waving down my mother as she started to stand. All that damn bowing got to me. I could give fuck all about protocol.

While I was tied up in bank meetings all afternoon, followed by a round of cocktails with some local investors, Fergus would pick Holly up at the airport and drive her to the cottage nearby.

I shook my head, clearing the lust that clouded my brain whenever I thought about her. About our one night together. Honestly, it pleased the hell out of me that I’d been her first. It fueled a primal branding in me that surprised me. Before that night, I’d never felt possessive about a woman. I never thought I was capable of feeling that way, and I sure wasn’t seeking it.

Would whatever had sparked between us seven months ago still sizzle?

I aimed to find out.

Four

Holly

Iwas met at the airport by a stooped elderly man holding a sign with my name swirled across it in a flourish of black ink. Stunned, I blinked as he took my small backpack and welcomed me to Scotland with his delightful accent and a hearty handshake.

None of that took the rub off the reality of things.

Murdoch was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t come to the airport himself.

That fucker.

He was too busy to pick up a former colleague at the airport?

Ever since our night together, I’d used a serious amount of energy trying not to replay our time together. I did pretty well avoiding it at work, but away from the hospital, my mind was free to return to Murdoch. And it did with startling frequency. It’d been hard to call him from the police station, but at the sound of his voice I knew that I had to see him again.

Just one last time.

To say goodbye. Get him out of my system and move on. People did it all the time, right? How else did the friends with benefits angle come to an end?

Though I hated having to take an emergency leave of absence during the holidays, getting out of town was a good idea. Emergency departments never had a slow season, but there’d been no luck tracking down my stalker. He seemed to move around New York like the invisible man. A few weeks away would give the detective time to catch him. When all this was behind me and the man behind bars, I could go back home, having seen Scotland, survived a stalker, and said goodbye to Malcolm.

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