Hearts on Fire

Locksley Hall, Scotland

“Everything looks good, Iris. You’ve healed up nicely.”

Heart pounding, it takes effort to force my tongue to unglue inside my arid mouth. Anticipation crawls through my body. I thread my hand through my wife’s. “Does that mean she’s allowed to resume all… extracurricular activities?”

Irritation blossoms when the doctor’s lips twitch at Iris’ amused snort. “That’s exactly what it means. No restrictions on any kind of… exercise.”

Fucking awesome. Before either woman can say another word, I scoop Iris into my arms and haul ass out of the clinic. Sultry laughter surrounds me the same way her arms wrap around my neck, fogging my brain. “In a hurry, August?” My cock throbs with every word that husky voice utters.

“Six. Fucking. Weeks. I went a month and a half without sinking into your body, Iris. Not gonna wait another fucking minute.” Gaze drifting over the body I can’t live without, I catch a glimpse of the taunting grin dancing over her lips. My eyes narrow. “Your doctor was just being vindictive with that timeline. I read online that a woman can have sex three or four weeks after giving birth.”

“Thanks for that, doctor, but I think I’ll stick with my trained medical professional’s opinion, rather than trust the fifteen minutes of internet research you put in.” My palm itches to redden her ass for that eyeroll she gives me.

Before I can, my pocket vibrates. Iris’ ringtone sings against my chest. Both of our cells going off at the same time can only mean… No. No, no, no, no! “Fuck! I swear your doctor has it in for me. She must have called your grandpa the second the door closed behind us. Fucking cockblocker!”

Iris struggles against my hold, forcing me to lower her feet before I drop her. Blue ball fueled rage wars with the respect I have for the man who offered me a job and home after high school. The fact that he didn’t murder me for knocking up his beloved granddaughter helped, too. A pulse beats inside my skull, the pressure slamming my eyes shut. Pain flares in my jaw as I grit my teeth.

“Yes, of course. He’s with me now. We’ll be there in two minutes.” The detached professionalism in Iris’ voice helps me rein in the storm, and the breath explodes from my chest.

We change directions, heading to the main castle housing Locksley Hall headquarters, rather than toward the cottage behind it that we now call home. Nothing at all like the sprawling, museum-like mansion I grew up in. That place was a fucking mausoleum. A tribute to wealth, privilege, torture, and control. Iris makes our small cottage here in the Pentland Hills area of Scotland the first home I’ve ever known. “Is it Kaysen, or a job?”

“A new mission.” Iris threads her arm through mine, leaning the body I crave more than air against me. “Sorry, Babe. I’ll make it up to you.”

Silk slides over my fingers when my hand fists in her hair, tugging her head back so my mouth can slam down onto hers. I drink in her moan, reveling in the knowledge that my hellcat loves erotic pain as much as I do. Little bombs go off in my body, lust clouding my mind as I press her against the castle wall. The urge to leave my claim on her neck grows with every drumming beat in my chest. Need to consume all of her spirals into the dark desire to taste her blood. After six weeks of celibacy, my shaky control shreds until the only strings I cling to are those attached to her grandparents. Ian and Danielle Locksley have become more family to me than my own parents. 

I refuse to let them down.

Lips ripping away from hers, my body trembles with the effort to force myself to let go and step back. Her flushed cheeks, mouth swollen and red from our kiss, don’t make it easier. Fists clenched, teeth grinding together until my jaw pops, I fight down the spike of need for the woman in front of me. “We’d better get up there.”

Still swirling with arousal, those pine green eyes of hers look even more mysterious. A shudder wracks her frame, but she nods without a word, leading me inside, through the massive great hall, and up a winding stone staircase to one of the second-floor conference rooms. Three men and a woman sit at the heavy oak table, while another woman walks toward us, arms full of our newborn hellraiser. My chest expands, irritation over this interruption dissolving as a grin tugs at my lips. I take my son from Danielle Michaels-Locksley and drop a kiss on his forehead, inhaling his baby-sweet scent, wondering how a fucking asshole like me managed to help create this little bit of perfection. Iris presses close, one finger stroking over our squirming son’s cheek while her other hand rests on my arm. Warmth spreads, our trio an outdoor symphony in a summer sunset. Kaysen’s little fingers latch on with a grip strong enough to surprise me as pale gray eyes flutter open and stare up at us. The fussing cries subside. This, right fucking here, is my Heaven.

“It figures my angelic grandson recognizes his demon parents.” The twinkle in Danielle’s eyes belies her scoffing tone. While she rarely shows emotion on her face, in the months since I’ve arrived, I’ve come to recognize the huge heart my vindictive mother once tried to destroy.

Laughter shakes Iris’ shoulders. “Grandma, if we’re both demons, how can our child be an angel? Pretty sure DNA doesn’t work like that.”

“Nature versus nurture, Iris. Life forced you both to walk through Hell. Until life influences Kaysen, he’ll continue to be my angel.” She motions toward the table. “I’ll grab a bottle for him, you two go sit.”

We take chairs across from the man and woman neither of us recognize, choosing instead to sit beside Locksley Hall’s senior agent, Walker McCort. Ian nods to us both from his spot at the head of the table. “Iris, August, thank you for meeting us on your day off.” He smirks at the low growl I can’t suppress. “August, now that you’ve finished your training, and Iris has a clean bill of health…”

My elbow hits Iris’ arm. “Told you your doctor hates me.”

Walker coughs to stifle a laugh while Iris just rolls her eyes and passes me the bottle Danielle hands her. Ian’s throat clears. The heat of his glare sears the side of my face as I focus on feeding my son. “We have a mission for you both, one where time is of the essence. I’ll let Interpol agents Coutreau and Wellsley brief you on the details of the case.”

The two agents—to be honest, I’m still not sure which is which—slide dossiers across the table to us. The woman speaks first, her clipped, disapproving British accent makes me think she’s Agent Wellsley. “There is a group of thieves operating up and down the Mediterranean Coast, stealing artwork from museums and private residences. Our investigations lead us to believe this group is made up of three men and two women, all between nineteen and twenty-three. They all have large trust funds, an addiction to risky behavior, and little to no responsibility.” 

“Given their family names, we can’t openly investigate them. Their legal teams would shut us down before we even showed up with a warrant.” The man, Coutreau, caps the rundown with a French curse.

“That’s where you two come in.” Ian leans forward, forearms on the table as his deep green eyes pin us both. “You both are going undercover as trust fund brats. It isn’t far from the truth, in any case. And I know neither of you are risk averse. We’ll give you use of a private yacht for your base of operations. As your handler, Agent McCort will pose as the boat’s First Mate. Agent Wellsley will act as Bosun. That will give her the ability to interact with the suspects should you manage to get them onto the yacht. Agent Coutreau will take the place of one of the deckhands.” He takes a deep breath. “All of the employees on the yacht have full training through Locksley Hall, so you’ll have plenty of backup should you need it.” That stare intensifies. “Make sure you use it if necessary.”

“Yes, sir.” As we respond, I for once, loosen the control on my expression enough to let Ian read my commitment to getting this right. Reckless independence might be my usual style, but now… Kaysen finishes his bottle and lets out a fucking adorable burp. A smile curves Iris’ lips as her eyes meet mine.

Now, I’ve got too much to live for to make stupid mistakes just to stroke my own ego.