Leith: A Dark Scottish Mafia Romance: (Mountain Men) Read online

  Leith: A Dark Scottish Mafia Romance

  (Mountain Men)

  Jane Henry

  Contents

  Untitled

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Previews

  About the Author

  Untitled

  Leith: A Dark Scottish Mafia Romance (Mountain Men)

  Cairstina Reilly was locked in silence when I found her.

  When I ravaged my way through weak men to save her.

  When I killed for her.

  Now our fates are tangled together in a web of lies, danger, and betrayal.

  I have to take her hostage.

  Drag her from her silent, private world,

  And force her into mine.

  In my Clan’s enclave deep in the wild Scottish Highlands,

  no one will find us and our secret will be safe…

  But I’m not the only one with secrets.

  Cairstina thinks her silence will protect her.

  But only I can do that.

  And the sooner my bonnie lass learns to trust me,

  The sooner I can set her free from everything that’s held her captive…

  Everything except me.

  Chapter One

  Leith

  Snow falls heavily as I lift my ax and swing it, but I welcome the way the wet, icy flakes cool my body. Every stroke of the ax makes my muscles ache, and I’m damn near blinded by the snow, but I don’t bloody care.

  This is where I find myself. Other men might lift weights and run on a treadmill that goes nowhere, but I’d rather work in the great outdoors on a day like today to keep myself in peak physical shape. The Captain of the Clan is meant to garner respect, and enforce the laws of our men when necessary. So, I train. I run the mountainous terrain, chop wood on our vast, wooded property, and spend as much time outdoors working the land as I can.

  It’s quiet in the woods, the snow insulating us against both cold and noise. I swing the ax again, my anger at the meeting we had this morning forcing my ax with greater gusto than before.

  Imagining that somehow I can exorcise my demons with my aching muscles and the cut of the blade. It doesn’t work, though. It never does. Still, I try.

  My final blow splits the log in two, the blade sinking into the stump with an air of finality. I’m heaving with the effort, panting and sweating as I take a moment to admire the clean, fresh cut of the ax, the smell of the freshly cut pine, before I resume my work.

  “Leith!” Paisley’s high voice is quickly drowned out by the wind, but I heard her clear enough. I turn, still panting, to see her standing in the doorway to the back entrance of our lodge. My youngest sister’s just turned seventeen, on the cusp of womanhood, the roundness of youth fading with every day that passes. Soon, she’ll be wanting to leave our reclusive home in the mountains.

  I sigh. I haven’t been out here long enough, haven’t even touched the anger that boils within me, the fury that lies in wait like a prowling mountain lion. I can feel it fueling me even now. “Aye?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Really, Leith. It’s fucking snowing out and you’re bare-chested like you’re ready to sunbathe on the beach?”

  I lean on my ax and give her a withering look. “It’s hot swinging that ax, and you’d better watch that smart mouth of yours before Dad hears you swearing. I’d better not hear it again myself.”

  She opens her mouth to protest, then thinks better of it. “I don’t understand why you boys swear like damn convicts, but God help the Cowen woman who curses,” she mutters.

  I don’t bother explaining the double standard, or how it swings both ways. The girls may not be able to curse like we do, but on the flip side, they haven’t been held to the brutal standards of our upbringing either. If I rolled my eyes at my father like she does, I’d get the back of his hand across my mouth, even at the age of thirty. Even as the highest-ranking member of the Cowen Clan. I’m technically even above him in rank, but once a Captain always a Captain.

  “Did you come out here to tell me how to dress, or tell me something of actual importance?” I start to turn away from her to grab my ax again, tired of her nonsense already.

  “Dad wants you, and he said be quick about it.”

  I bury my ax in the earth, snag my shirt from a nearby low-hanging branch, and head back inside.

  Bram Cowen may have retired and appointed me Clan Captain, but he’s still my father.

  I kick snow off my boots as I enter the house, and Paisley frowns.

  “Don’t really understand why you chop the wood, Leith. We’ve staff to do chores like that, and you know it. Why do you bother?”

  “For the same reason Mum cooks dinner once a week, even though she doesn’t need to either.”

  Paisley still frowns but doesn’t reply. If she doesn’t understand the correlation, she has more growing up to do than I thought.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Cowen,” Mary says, stirring a large pot of soup on the stove. “Are you wanting dinner, sir?”

  I shake my head. “No, thank you, Mary. I’ll eat later.”

  She nods. “Yes, sir.”

  She’s one of several staff that runs both the mountain lodge where my parents reside and our Clan meets, as well as the chalets that decorate the outskirts of our home. Last year, my family ventured all the way south to pay the Irish a visit, to save Mary from a heap of trouble. They’re our allies, one of the few Clans who’ve got our backs. She’s been even more loyal and dedicated to us ever since.

  It’s warm in here and smells strongly of Scotch broth and freshly-baked bread, but I’m not hungry. My mind is too occupied with what we discussed this morning, and moreover what my father’s called me in for.

  I walk through the kitchen, nodding to a few of my men who sit at the heavy farm table in the corner of the room with pints of ale and hearty sandwiches. They stand out of respect when I pass, but I wave at them to give them leave to relax.

  Paisley, tall and willowy like Mum, keeps up with my long strides. She’s chattering on and on about a trip she’s taking to the island, but I only half hear her until she says she’s leaving at the weekend.

  “What do you mean, at the weekend?” I ask her sternly. Why has no one said a thing about this before now?

  She gives me a haughty look. “Not sure how else to say it. As in Saturday and Sunday. Perhaps that makes more sense to you then?”

  God, my father spoiled the lass and let her get a smart mouth, and she’s usually the more timid of my two sisters. Honestly, I won’t put up with it myself.

  I pause before I enter my father’s study, plant my hands on my hips, and give her a cutting look. “Need I remind you, Paisley, that though Dad’s the patriarch of our Clan, as Clan Captain I can override where you go and when?”

  She blinks and stares, soft blonde hair falling in those wide blue eyes she inherited from my mother. She shoves it behind her ears angrily. “What?”

  “Aye. I’ve been appointed Clan Captain as of January first, which you’re well aware of, aren’t you?”

  Before then, I was Clan Chief, second in command. Now as Captain, I rule all members of the Cowen Clan.

&nb
sp; She opens her mouth, then closes it like a fish out of water. “Aye, of course I bloody well know it, but I—”

  “Language.”

  She starts, as if I struck her, then pales. She looks at me pleadingly, and her eyes brim with tears. “Leith.”

  “Mmm?”

  “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “Because a woman of your stature and rank ought to know how to conduct herself better. I’ll consider allowing you to travel, but only with a firm guard in place.”

  I remember what it was like being her age, but back then things weren’t the way they are now.

  She opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it. “Fine, then.”

  Paisley bows her head and nods, then quietly walks away, her arms folded across her chest. I sigh before I open the door to my father’s study.

  I remember the days when the two of us were peers. I remember teaching her how to swim in the lake nearby. I can still see the pride on her face the first day she managed to keep herself afloat when she finally learned it herself.

  I can still feel her crying on my shoulder the day she was ridiculed at school, when her first boyfriend ever told lies about what she’d done with him and how he got in her knickers. I can still feel his blood on my knuckles and the bruises on my hand when I gave him a proper beating, then promised far more if he ever did such a thing again. She didn’t know about that.

  I remember Christmas mornings, all of us in our pajamas, just children without a care in the world. All six of us—when there were still six of us—laughing and joking, tearing the pretty paper with glee while we opened our gifts between sipping from large, steaming mugs of cocoa.

  That was in the before times. Before Paisley became aware of the weight of the power she held as a daughter of the Clan. Before my mother wore a perpetual crease across her brow. Before I assumed any of the responsibility of Clan Captain. When Tavish was still with us.

  I knock on the door.

  “Leith?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Come in, son.”

  I push open the door. The room is dark, the shades partly drawn. My father’s new medication makes him sensitive to light, so he typically keeps his study dark.

  “Paisley came to fetch me, sir.”

  “She’s a good girl.” His voice is gentler than usual. I shut the door behind me. “Don’t be too hard on her, Leith. The Cowen women have heavy responsibility.”

  My conscience pricks me. Perhaps I was a bit too harsh just now.

  My eyes quickly adjust to the dim light. My father smiles at me from beneath thick, stern brows. Even age hasn’t diminished his size or stature, his large shoulders casting shadows on the wall behind him, his large hands gently resting on his desk.

  I remember when I was a child, those huge hands of his intimidated the hell out of me. All he needed to do was rest one hand on one of our shoulders, and he had our full attention. One swing of his ax split a log in two, and as a child I sometimes wondered if he even needed the ax. There was a time when Bram Cowen was a force to be reckoned with, and I wouldn’t come to blows with him even now that he’s sixty years old and the signs of age and illness plague him.

  Recently, though, he resigned his position as Clan Captain, and passed the proverbial baton to me. He said it was time, that he’d put in his dues. I think it had more to do with his failing health than anything.

  My younger brother Tate took over as Chief, and Mac became Warlord, the head of the enforcers, though rank is only known among the Clan. We men of the north take our anonymity seriously. No one but our own, as well as other Clans, know who we are or what we do, and we aim to keep it that way.

  “A drink, son?” I shake my head. I never drink this early in the day. What is it that’s on his mind?

  I do take a seat, though. “No, thanks, Dad. Everything alright?’

  He sobers, leaning on his elbows, and puts his fingers together. “Got a call just now from McCarthy Clan Chief Keenan McCarthy.”

  I nod. I met Keenan last year when we took the rare venture to the south to help Mary. It was the furthest I’d ever been from my home in the mountains.

  “Oh?”

  “Aye. And he’s got a man on his payroll who’s a hacker. Knows the ins and outs of communication and the like.”

  I chuckle. “Of course he does.” The McCarthy Clan is large and prosperous, their strength in numbers and skills nearly unrivaled by any other mob I know of.

  “McCarthy says they got caught in the crosshairs of communication, and infiltrated correspondence that said Mingus Fucking Aitkens alluded to being responsible for interference with the deal we made in Inverness last month.”

  I bristle.

  “Did they?”

  Dad nods. “And furthermore, according to McCarthy, Aitken’s men were responsible for the devastation in the Cathedral and the attack on Father MacGowen. McCarthy’s sources say they’re planning a second attack this evening.”

  I curse under my breath, keenly aware that I just chastised Paisley for doing the very same not ten minutes ago.

  “Were they?”

  “Aye.” He shakes his head, his thick northern accent coming out when he’s agitated. “Ah dinae ken, son, the fucking bastards. Reckon they think they’ll get a wee bit of leverage if they take that tact, hmm? Aitkens fancies himself the fucking Lord of Inverness and Laird of all.”

  I nod. “Aye, sir. He does. So you reckon we should pay them a visit, then?”

  “No question. Take your brothers and enforcers. Prepare to intervene when they attack the church. There’s no need for bloodshed, though a proper beating may be necessary.”

  “Hope I get the fucking chance.” I get to my feet and head for the door, eager to prepare my men, when my father’s voice stops me.

  “You’d wait for a fucking chance?”

  My hand freezes on the doorknob, my anger resurfacing like a tidal wave. Of all the bloody cheek—

  “Leith.”

  I exhale a ragged breath before I turn to look at him. “Aye?”

  There’s challenge in his eyes, a reminder that I’ll never be his first-born son, that I’ll never rule the way he fucking did.

  “Remember, the Cowen men don’t ever harm the interior of the church. Somewhere outside will suit thee well.”

  Like I need the fucking reminder.

  “Aye.”

  He can’t give me direct orders per our strict hierarchy, but as former Clan Captain, he has sway. As my father, he has even more.

  He’s given me instructions to harm our rivals, to make them hurt, but the heavens themselves will wage war if we harm the church.

  I shut the door behind me, and nearly collide with Mum. Her hair’s gone white in recent years, cut short, but her eyes are still vivid bright blue. Despite her small stature and age, she’s smart as a whip and clever to boot. She’s slender and youthful, dresses in simple leggings and tops, and would fit in easily with the much younger crowd of women in Inverness.

  “Everything alright, son?” Her eyes cut to my father’s study door. If anyone’s keenly aware of the tension between us it’s Mum.

  “Aye. We’ve a job to do. Dad’s got news from the south that impacts us.”

  I don’t give her details, and she doesn’t ask questions, but she walks with me. I’m mentally preparing to leave and drive into Inverness to kick Aitkens arse. I haven’t driven off this mountain in fucking weeks.

  “A word, son?”

  “Aye.” I don’t have much patience, as time is of the essence here.

  “I came across Paisley a short while ago. She was crying, Leith.”

  I roll my eyes but don’t reply. I make a sort of grunting sound as I shoot a text to my brothers.

  Need to run an errand in town. Will fill you in on the way. Retribution in store. Be here in ten minutes.

  Their responses are prompt.

  On my way.

  Be there straight away.

  Yes, sir.

  I look up a
t Mum, who’s patiently waiting, her hands folded in front of her and a soft smile on her lips.

  “Aye. What about Paisley?”

  “Leith, she’s more sensitive than Islan, you know that.” It’s true. Islan’s a veritable fireball.

  I grunt again, not terribly interested in having this conversation.

  “Says you may not let her travel at the weekend. That you told her she had to remember who she was and ask your permission?”

  I nod. “Something like.”

  Mum blinks once, then twice. “Leith.”

  I glance at the clock on my phone. “I have to go soon. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  A muscle ticks in her jaw. “Remember that a good leader shows meekness.”

  I blow out an impatient breath, eager to get going on my task. “Of course. Have I done anything that showed you otherwise?”

  She shakes her head and walks away. I have the distinct feeling I’m missing something.

  Ten minutes later, my Clan brothers and I are driving down the steep, narrow path that takes us into the heart of Inverness. We’re far enough away, no one ever comes here by accident, but also far enough away it’s a pain in my arse to get into the heart of the city. I make a silent vow that one of my new jobs as Clan Captain will be to ensure I’ve got a better route to the city, as long as we continue to be well hidden.

  The mountains of the north have so few inhabitants, until recently it’s been easy to keep our existence quiet. Now, however, with more people living in the mountains, reclusivity’s become harder and harder to maintain.

  “Need a guard dog,” I mutter under my breath as I go down the steep incline.