Spilled Passion (Aidan Undercover 3)

By Erin O'Quinn

Aidan Williamson has been plucked from his routine constable life to the harrowing existence of an undercover detective, damn near under the skirts of Her Majesty the Queen. His first two cases have taken him to places close to Balmoral Castle, where she and her retinue are set to stay for the summer.

This case is no different.

From a bothy—a stone hut—below Devil’s Point to Queen Vic’s old “Widow’s House,” the killing field seems to grow closer to home as the Queen’s holiday grows nearer. Now a hidden crime has been uncovered in the same place the royal party is set to visit soon. And Police Scotland is not amused.

Enter Aidan, rookie dick, who’s struggling to confront his demons—and his angels too. Who’s the killer? A pillar of the local church...a couple of horny adolescents...a protective kinsman of the dead man’s wife...or the sweet widow herself?

This time around, the edges are blurred more than ever, as mystery spills into verra hot romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erin O'Quinn
• Release date: Sep 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463126691

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

Spilled Passion

Aidan Undercover 3

•

By Erin O’Quinn

Copyright © 2019 Erin O ’ Quinn

New Dawn Press

ISBN: 9780463126691

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.

Foreword

Passion takes many forms. Lust, love, jealousy, hate, fear—all can spill out when we least expect. What we leave behind in our most emotional moments may separate a man from a beast, a father from a son, or a gentleman from a killer…

Most of the places in this work are real. The kirk outside of Braemar, though, has been draped in new vestments. The Ben Chanters club is fiction, not based on any actual organization. Likewise, Prince William’s visit in 2014 is strictly fantasy. His father, Charles Prince of Wales, did go to that same bothy some years before, but that is another story…

This current work is the third, and possibly final, installment of the Aidan Undercover series. The trilogy titles are Where There’s Smoke, Deep Fury, and Spilled Passion. All can be read as stand-alone novellas. The universe is one I created in the fourth Nevada Highlander novel Sleeping with Danger (© 2018) .

I hope you’ll enjoy Aidan and his friends.

Erin O’Quinn (Bonita Franks)

September, 2019

Introduction

Aidan Williamson has been plucked from his routine constable life to the harrowing existence of an undercover detective, damn near under the skirts of Her Majesty the Queen. His first two cases have taken him to places close to Balmoral Castle, where she and her retinue are set to stay for the summer.

This case is no different.

From a bothy—a stone hut—below Devil’s Point to Queen Vic’s old Widow’s House, the killing field seems to grow closer to home as the Queen’s holiday grows nearer. Now a hidden crime has been uncovered in the same place the royal party is set to visit soon. And Police Scotland is not amused.

Enter Aidan, rookie dick, who’s struggling to confront his demons—and his angels too. Who’s the killer? A pillar of the local church…a couple of horny adolescents…a protective kinsman of the dead man’s wife…or the sweet widow herself?

This time around, the edges are blurred more than ever.

Chapter 1

Hollow Places

Aidan Williamson lay basking in a dream, the kind of fantasy he used to have, back when he was a boy just discovering the pubic nest, the fledgling cock, the joy of release.

He was flying, he was soaring, higher and higher. Some ache far inside his ass was propelling him upward, to the sun, dick first…

Except this time the dream was real. Logan curled next to him, a careless leg hitched over his own spent body, warm breath fanning his cheek.

Aidan’s cock grow heavy again with remembered passion.

Dark. The room was pitch-dark, so Aidan took his time seeing. He slowly forced his eyes and his gut and soul to reveal this fugitive fantasy in his arms—this man who’d chosen him as a lover.

Really, we chose each other.

Not even a month ago, at the base camp below Devil’s Point, he’d found a quiet man with tormented eyes and the soul-wrenching speech of an ancient Highlander. Some sixth sense told him this caretaker would demand honesty. And so from the moment they met, Aidan had spilled his truths. Maybe not all at once…not yet…. But Kenneth Logan deserved the real Aidan Williamson. Every wart, every flaw, every shattered dream, and especially the secret locked in his scarred heart.

No buggering soul outside of Police Scotland knew he was a rookie, a new undercover detective. His new name was Will Smith, a warping of his father’s name twisted around his own delight in the American actor, and his attraction to any kind of mystery. His uniform at first was just a pair of torn jeans and worn hiking boots. But within an hour of meeting Logan, he’d spilled damn near all of it to the Goliath of a man who somehow needed blunt honesty as much as he needed the stone tent he took care of and—more and more rarely—slept in.

Blunt. Yes, that would describe Logan, a man whose name in the old Scots language meant deep, rough hollow. But he was more, much more.

Compassionate. Thoughtful. Warm and humorous, irreverent, self-effacing. Smart as the sting of a whip.

At the risk of waking him, Aidan barely touched Logan, letting his fingertips cascade in a spate of discovery, from the hollow of his throat , over the mounds of his breasts, into the valley of his groin. He heard the hitch of a sigh before the hum of his lover’s regular breathing returned. He felt the velvet-over-steel of his skin, smelled the musk of his armpits, almost saw the dark brooding eyes fixed on his own…and the Nessie of his cock rising from the deep loch.

Aidan sighed. Daylight was only a few hours away. Logan would need to leave, back to the demon’s penis he called home, while his cop of a lover was forced to stay within minutes of responding to a PS call that might never come…

In the twenty-odd days since his new career began, Aidan had stumbled onto the solution of two murders, both of them at bothies whose grounds were owned by Queen Elizabeth herself, and both of them merely days apart. Since then—nothing. He’d been lying low, enjoying his new private mountain named Kenneth Logan, but festering every time the man left for his own turf.

Instead of drawing Aidan from his familiar territory of Ballater-Braemar, his immediate superior, CID Inspector Gowan, had kept him close to Balmoral Castle. Not because Police Scotland expected the worst, but—damn it all to bloody hell—because they really did expect the worst.

They believed their own motto, Semper Vigilo . Always vigilant. And the Queen’s annual visit to her castle was only two weeks away. What thieves and deevs lurked close enough to the Queen to strike fear into the heart of every cop? Rather than find out, they preferred to stop and search, snoop and sneak, spend every waking hour standing sentinel over Balmoral Castle.

Aidan snickered at his own exaggerations, even while knowing he and his cop brethren were serious as a gravestone.

Gravestone .

He couldn’t help thinking about Mother, lying in the small cemetery outside Braemar, just thirteen minutes down the road. He visited her often these days, more often than he ever did as a wayward son. She’d died alone—her former husband living with another woman in a place she’d never learned to pronounce, her only son in a college somewhere in California-America.

Logan muttered something on the verge of waking, andAidan tried to shift his mind back to the present tense.

No use. He smiled into the darkness.

Gray-eyed Leah Williamson would have loved Logan, with his quiet Highland warrior vibe and his soft burr, the poetry of his eyes, the strength of his moral fiber. She would have blessed their union, never questioning its rightness. Too bad she never lived to see the day when Scotland would also bless such a union… Only four months ago, February 4, 2014…

When the news came from Parliament, about eleven on a Tuesday morning, his ex wasn’t even at home to share the joy. Justin had already slipped away by then, but both of them wasted a long time facing the truth.

And his father… No, Arthur Williamson probably had no idea his only son was now free to show his real face to the world. No doubt he was in a broker’s meeting, or a business luncheon, or sweating in a health-club sauna. Aidan knew that call would never come.

Sighing, he drew Logan closer, relishing the soft cocoon of his chest, even as his ass dug into the fucking floor. Maybe today after Logan went back to Devil’s Point, he’d go looking for a proper bed. One that his lover would accept. A bed never shared with some phantom other man.

It’s time. I need to stop putting my life on hold, waiting for a bloody phone call from Police Scotland, waiting for Father to change, waiting to tell Logan the truth—

Little Fire.

A rumble,