Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,89
know what those good old boys from New York had told them about her, but the men sent to apprehend her treated Juliet Bell like she was trouble. The fact that James hadn’t turned up with the rest of them hadn’t helped. What did they think, that she was a cop-killer. A bobby-killer?
It wasn’t funny, but you know, it kinda was.
“James would have thought it was funny,” she mumbled.
The bathroom door whipped open and Jules had to back up against the side of the toilet to allow enough room for Quinn and Monty to squeeze inside and shut the door behind them.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I made a few calls,” Quinn said. “They are British Secret Service. One of them is James’ supervisor. He had no problem believing that James would take a leave of absence and head to Spain after making sure we were home safely. A couple blokes climbed into the tomb, but came back out again, thankfully.”
“Aye, thankfully,” said Monty. “Get on with it then,” he said to Quinn.
“Get on with what?” she asked.
Quinn’s face reddened. “Och, my uncle here doesn’t believe you mean to wed me.”
Monty snorted. “That’s a fact. I doona believe it.”
Jules didn’t know whether to be offended or not. Of course Monty didn’t know her well, but did he really believe that she’d take the money and run?
“It doesn’t matter what he believes, though, does it? It matters what you believe,” she said to Quinn. It kind of hurt that he doubted her, after all they’d been through.
“Och, now, Juliet. Of course I believe you. I just want Monty to shut his gob and stop his teasin’. If you’ll just tell him...”
“Wait.” Monty pulled out a plaid scarf he’d had dangling from his waistband. “If she’s going to make a promise, she’ll need to bind it. Hold up her hand.”
Quinn inched around to the far side of the toilet and took her hand right hand in his right hand, then lifted it up. Monty stepped forward and started wrapping their hands together. Jules was just glad the toilet lid was down.
“What in the hell are you doing?” she demanded.
“Binding yer promise,” Monty said simply, like she was stupid to have asked. “Ye canna break a promise that’s been bound, lass.”
Quinn just smiled at her and shrugged like it was the most natural thing in the world to be holding hands over a toilet asking her to promise that she would marry him.
“Of course I’m going to marry you,” she said, “but only if you don’t make a habit of doing silly shit like this.”
Quinn looked at Monty. “Yes, I pledge to marry the lovely foul-mouthed lass. Will that do?”
Monty frowned, then nodded. “I bear witness to it.”
Jules rolled her eyes.
The scarf was pulled away and Monty stuck only his head out the door.
“I think you should kiss me, lass.” Quinn leaned forward.
She shook her head. “I am not kissing you over a toilet.”
He huffed and stuck out his lovely bottom lip. She was incredibly tempted to reconsider.
Monty laughed quietly. “Stop yer moonin’ and come on. We’re not supposed to be in here. Juliet, ye’ll stay put.”
Quinn gave her a wink and then backed out of the room, grinning, pulling the door shut behind him.
She hurried to the door and pressed her ear against the thick white paint. She thought she heard men giggling on the stairs.
Men.
She shook her head and climbed into the footed bathtub. If they were going to make her wait, she was going to sleep and it wasn’t going to be on the toilet.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The bathroom door burst open.
“She’s gone!” a man shouted.
“No, I’m not,” she hollered and sat up in the tub.
An agent jumped sideways with a gun pointed at her.
“Nevermind,” he hollered toward the door. “She’s here.”
He kept his gun trained on her while she stretched her shoulders—the tub was far too short for her to have slept comfortably.
Then she laughed as the pins and needles worked themselves out of her muscles. Out of all the things that had frightened her in the last ten days, the guy with the gun was the least frightening of all.
“He’s awake,” another man said from the hallway. “He says it wasn’t her.”
The agent sneered at her but holstered his gun. Then he went out and shut the door.
“What?” she called over the side of the tub. “No apology?”
About five minutes later, the door opened again.
The squatty one must have picked the short straw. He stood back with his feet braced apart