Deep Fury (Aidan Undercover 2)

By Erin O'Quinn

With the Queen due for her annual visit to Balmoral Castle, Constable Aidan Williamson has been transformed overnight into an undercover detective. He’s managed to emerge from his first case (Where There’s Smoke) with only a bullet wound and a few other scars no one can see.

This time around, he’s in the close company of three murder suspects—a writer’s publicist, a widowed husband, and a hot Scot who’s their paid guide. And this time he has two assets. One is his old constable partner Mike Murphy, mad Irishman. The other is Logan, another smoking-hot Scot, who always seems to catch Aidan off guard but always has his back.

At the Widow’s House of Queen Victoria on a lake in the Highlands...and in his own private life...there’s a smoldering deep fury at work, and Aidan’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erin O'Quinn
• Release date: Jul 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463278499

Erin O'Quinn

Erin O’Quinn sprang from the high desert hills of Nevada, from a tiny town which no longer exists. A truant officer dragged her kicking and screaming to grade school, too late to attend kindergarten; and since that time her best education has come from the ground she’s walked and the people she's met.Erin has her own publishing venue, New Dawn Press. Her works cover the genres of M/M and M/F romance and also historical fantasy for all ages.

Book preview

Deep Fury

Aidan Undercover 2

•

By Erin O’Quinn

Copyright © 2019 Erin O ’ Quinn

New Dawn Press

ISBN: 9780463278499

First electronic edition published by New Dawn Press

Published in the United States of America with international distribution.

Cover Design by Erin O’Quinn (Bonita Franks) New-Dawn-Press-Logo-Color_200_pix.png

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the copyright owner except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author ’ s imagination or are used fictitiously; and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

WARNING: This writing contains explicit sexual descriptions and is intended for a mature audience over the age of 18

Dedication

For you, Bo, whose sharp eyes found a new hero waiting in a tiny Highlands hamlet.

Foreword

The places I take you to in this work are real: Queen Victoria’s old Highland retreat away from her Balmoral Castle…the Deeside Inn, Hunter’s Lodge restaurant, and most places in between. But—big but—those settings are wrapped in the costumes of my writer’s imagination. The people are also the cardboard avatars of my mind.

And the name Deep Fury? I invented that particular item some time ago, in a novel called The Chase. That product is still working its magic.

Erin O’Quinn (Bonita Franks)

July, 2019

Introduction

With the Queen due for her annual visit to Balmoral Castle, Constable Aidan Williamson has been transformed overnight into an undercover detective. He’s managed to emerge from his first case ( Where There’s Smoke ) with only a bullet wound and a few other scars no one can see.

This time around, he’s in the close company of three murder suspects—a writer’s publicist, a widowed husband, and a hot Scot who’s their paid guide. And this time he has two assets. One is his old constable partner Mike Murphy, mad Irishman. The other is Logan, another smoking-hot Scot, who always seems to catch Aidan off guard but always has his back.

At the Widow’s House of Queen Victoria on a lake in the Highlands…and in his own private life…there’s a smoldering deep fury at work, and Aidan’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

Chapter 1

The Morning After

Waking up with a landslide in his lap, Aidan could barely see his date by the glow of the kitchen night light. They were curled together on the tacky linoleum. Above his head hunkered the shadow of his heavy slat-backed chair, seat of recent passion.

His piss-hard was painful, and persistent. But he wanted to hang onto this man a while longer.

They’d known each other for—not months, or weeks, or days—for whole hours. But they shared a spark, an ember, that had smoldered and caught in the dry kindling of a stone hut. The flame had started in his cock, spread to his butt, then fired his gut and his tattered soul.

He would not easily let this one go.

In sleep, his frame collapsed to fit Aidan’s embrace, Logan was not so much a mountain as a boulder. His cheeks were stubbled by new growth, but the close beard was soft as angel hair. Aidan imagined rather than saw the curve of his dark lashes, the planes of his cheeks, the pouting sensitive mouth. And below, the swell of his arousal…

Why didn’t he even look at my bed? Maybe he could sense that another man had fucked me there. And sleeping on the bloody floor—a substitute for his own stone haven? Will he ever shout his honest need to me…or to any man?

He hoped the answers would come, in time.

Logan. He murmured in the man’s ear, then put his tongue inside for good measure. The response was immediate, a volcanic rumble.

Little Fire. It must be time to leave.

Aye. Fast shower first?

How fast?

Just long enough. No time for your Deep Fury. Logan and his magical gel had been, in a word, extraordinary.

A low laugh, a seeking of his mouth and tongue…the adamantium mountain was awake and ready.

Under the shower head, lathering their companion’s chest and underarms, they ended up fondling each other’s granite cock. With no wordy preamble, Logan knelt, lifted his hurting dick to the surge of water, then took him in his mouth, while stiff fingers slid into his ass. The same as last night, Aidan came in less than a minute, long and hot. His cry of release was a gargle of spit and incoherent joy.

He grabbed Logan’s wide shoulders and stood him up.

Now you.

He bent to the man’s glistening cock while one of his hands stroked the tight balls and the other found his asshole. He’d never get all of it in his mouth, but he did his best to swallow it, gurgling his ecstasy.

Logan, primed by long abstinence, shot cum into his mouth far too soon, then battered his groin against his face, an avalanche of remembered pleasure.

Afterward, they kissed and rinsed, ready for dawn to break on a promising new day.

Standing in the bedroom where they’d shed their clothes eight hours before, Logan pulled on his denims, zippered them over a still-massive cock. So Aidan, do you have duty today?

Aidan, also bereft of underwear, slid into his tattered Levi’s. Aye. The inspector says I have to report to the hospital for the head-scratch. Department regs. Then turn in my report to the Blair PS. After that, I have no buggering idea. He shrugged. Wait for instructions.

Let’s get on the road then. I like to be at the helm by nine. Just in case.

The helm for Logan was the bothy at Corrour, under Devil’s Point, the penis of the demon. He’d been sole caretaker at the stone shelter for twelve years—long enough that any departure from his routine must make him a wee bit nervous. Especially since this would make two days in a row of unexpected detours for him.

I’m on it. First he removed the Glock from its nest in his boot, tucking it in the waistband of his trousers and pulling his plaid shirt over it. The argyle socks and scuffed hiker’s boots completed his fashionable undercover ensemble.

Aidan slid his billfold and cell into two different hip pockets and left the room. Before he opened the door to a cool dark pre-dawn, he spoke to his companion.

Half an hour max to the Linn Dee parking lot. You’ll be home in plenty of time.

He let Logan draw him into his chest. Home. Aye, it really is. But different nou, lad.

Aidan heard the Scots accent, the tongue of his Highland fathers. It seemed to escape sometimes, for no apparent reason; and when it did, the deep burr turned him on instantly.

How so?He nibbled the soft beard.

No bath in the cold burn today. Och, no hand job. Am I losing my touch?

I hope so.

After taking time for an intimate search with their tongues and hands, they broke apart and walked to the lockup.

Neither of them spoke much during the ride. Logan settled back in the Land Rover, his long legs stretched out and one arm strung along the top of the passenger seat. Aidan felt a rare sense of contentment. Not just because he’d enjoyed three intense climaxes… He smiled, remembering…

Share it, Little Fire.

You, Logan. And the climax of a hard case too. Feels fucking good.

No’ to mention a new job, lad. A satisfying one. Am I right?

How could you tell, Logan?

"That it’s new—or that it makes you happy?

Both, ye bloody mind reader.

The way you talked to your superior. The fact that he had to tell you the protocol. That told me you’re…how do they say…a rookie.

Aidan produced a sour grin. Go on.

And the happy part? I feel it too. A relief, a change of pace, a certain joy and even pride. A needing of more.

I feel that way about you, too. Exactly like that, Logan.

The silence was palpable. A living thing, something to touch, to nurture with great care.

After a while he continued, I wish you could…you would…get off that demon’s cock. Maybe teach, or write, instead of— Damn. Too much, too fast. Never mind. You know, far better than I do.

Maybe. But I also know ’tis time to mount my bike, Aidan.

Aidan pulled into the lot and turned off the