The Devil Among Us, Ramsay Sinclair [black books to read .txt] 📗

Hearing those words leave her lips sent a jolt of electricity in my veins.

“That was hot.”

“What was?” she giggled.

“You, being a daredevil. Saying you’re going to nick things in the middle of a police gala. I never really liked bad girls, but I think that’s all started to change.”

Abbey could persuade a man away from his morals in an instant.

“Aaand that champagnes gone to your head.”

22

“You should dance more often,” Abbey murmured, voice lost in my skin. “With me, of course. Nobody else.”

I had to accept that she was right, as always. That’s what she liked to think, anyway. My stubble must’ve irritated her neck, just below the ear, for the skin had gone red raw. Either that, or she was flushed from the intimate hold.

We’d stayed on the floor for a few dances, seen as we were enjoying each other’s company, and it pleased Iona very much. Other partners had come and gone, ebbed and flowed in waves across the hall.

In the end, the swinging band was cut off mid-song by an impatient DCI Reid covered in spotlights. They washed his complexion out to a pale and nearly transparent white. Almost god-like in stature, the sight of him starting to make a speech made a sour taste flood my mouth and completely spoiled the dance we were genuinely enjoying.

“Sorry everyone for cutting the dancing short. Cooper,” he acknowledged that they were the only reason we’d begun dancing in the first place. When I plastered a false beam on my face, he continued to address the impatient officers who wanted to get back to whatever they were doing. “I have a short speech to make in aid of tonight’s gala.”

Most of the people booed, messing around with DCI Reid.

“I know, I know. We all hate speeches.” DCI Reid held a hand up to lull the noise. Abbey snaked one arm around my shoulders so she could face the fallen superior. I wasn’t ready to let go just yet, so I continued to hold Abbey’s slim waist tightly. We stopped mid-dance and endured the microphone feedback.

“First off, in tonight's proceedings, I have to thank the band. For obvious reasons, as well as taking our late booking because my wife insisted that a band was the only sensible way to host a party,” DCI Reid announced to rowdy cheers from the scattered constables.

A few women whooped agreeably, to which Iona blushed and lapped up the applause specifically intended for her.

“Then there’s the force itself and all hardworking people within. I may be relatively new to Dalgety, but there’s no denying you guys make the station tick.” DCI Reid did the sensible thing for his image as the officers stamped on the floor cheerfully and almost caused an uproar. Abbey held on tight as the floor shook. I saw the superintendent holding onto the glasses on his table jubilantly. Locals would be reporting an earthquake tomorrow.

Abbey curled her lip at his facade.

“Now, for the soppy part, and boys, hold your stomachs for two seconds and stop being jealous,” DCI Reid forewarned, clutching his own hefty stomach in amusement. “Tonight wouldn’t be half as grand if it wasn’t for my wife, Iona Reid.”

More thunderous applause accompanied some sick noises in jest.

“She makes my life as well as ruins it. Please, raise a glass for all of us here tonight, and those who couldn’t be here.” He lifted his drink for what I believed was specifically intended to be for McCall’s sake. Everyone reciprocated the glass lifting, repeating the final speech words and getting caught up in an enjoyable chant.

“Oh, shut up and put the music on,” an officer heckled, catching us all off guard. His baritone voice cut through the chants and he then proceeded to swear obnoxiously. I presumed he was part of the uniformed team, but I barely recognised the drunken idiot.

DCI Reid’s once jaunty exterior faded, and he failed to think of anything to stay on the spot. Nobody really wanted to get involved with the stumbling male. Taking care of a heavily intoxicated guy wasn’t top of my list for the night.

That was until the inebriated officer tried to push through the dance floor and knocked into Abbey. By the way she gasped, I could tell the knock winded her. Even if the officer wasn’t able to fully control his action due to the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, I still wasn’t happy.

We, as upholders of the law, should know better than to get blackout drunk in the middle of what was supposed to be a sophisticated event. Then again, we as officers should know better than to get involved in drugs too.

“I think you’ve had more than enough to drink,” I stated firmly, not wanting to make much of a scene. Originally, nobody thought the hammered officer had paid much mind to the off-hand comment.

“Anyway, as I was saying--” DCI Reid started again, but before he could get any further, a rough movement jerked my shoulder.

“Watch it,” DCI Reid cautioned into the microphone and the crowd duly parted, expecting something exciting to transpire.

“I suggest you take your hands off me if you want to keep this civil,” I warned with a brittle edge to my voice, for this man wasn’t thinking straight. With steely eyes and thick-rimmed glasses to hide behind, the drunken officer was the epitome of someone who’d had too much fun.

Abbey tried to tug me away from the challenger by the cuff of my jacket but to no avail. I wasn’t going to let a jerk like him get away with being irresponsible. People who broke the rules needed straightening out, exactly as DCI Reid needed to be. I think part of my pent-up frustrations were being misdirected towards the drunken man, in a haze of my own slight tipsiness.

“Say that to my face,” the constable slurred, swaying and rocking on his unsteady feet. The stench of his liquored breath filled my nostrils.

“I said you’ve had