Vicious Justice
Page 27
MaryAnn drew back, horrified. He looked as if he was expecting AJ to say something on his behalf.
AJ agreed with Randy. He lifted a dismissive shoulder. MaryAnn would either stay or quit. He was good, not as good as Bubbles, but he could probably learn.
MaryAnn turned and finished packing up their shit. Maybe he understood it had been too easy, and the guys felt unsettled.
Why the fuck had it been so easy?
Chapter Two
Tension spiked up Marina’s spine, giving her the same sensation she had when watching #epicfail videos—knowing the situation would not end well twisted with the guilt that she should do something more productive with her time. But she couldn’t turn away. She stood frozen in the foyer, even though she should call the family lawyer and the doctor, but probably not in that order. Her eyes flicked between the body of her father, fragile, bruised, and muddy to the back of a filthy t-shirt stretched across shoulders worthy of the Titan god, Atlas. Roman gladiators would beg for those shoulders. He was Goliath to Michelangelo’s David. The t-shirt was painted in mud, leaves, and possibly spiderwebs like an abstract painting. Maybe a Jackson Pollock or a Kandinsky?
This was not good. She shouldn’t be concerned about the gladiator, AJ Garza. Or the way the leaf fluttered with each expansion of breath as if it was trying to gain the man’s notice. Like her. He was bigger than any man she’d ever met, personally. A black-web belt lashed dark cargo pants to lean hips, and the pockets bulged with secrets. Regardless of the asymmetrical clutter on his back, or the funky smell that announced his presence; his body was perfect.
And he’d found her father and returned him to safety.
For three weeks her dad had been held somewhere, apparently muddy, while they arranged for the ransom transfer. In reality, they’d hired Garza security which brought the gladiator and his men into her home, and her life. They’d made no promises, charged a hefty fee, and said they’d be back.
She should have felt relief, even joy. Instead, her body coiled, waiting for something more to happen. Her brothers and step-mother talked rapidly, firing questions at the gladiator who said nothing. Her father said little, his voice gravely and tired.
Marina stepped forward, hugging her father’s frail frame and whispered, “What do you need?”
He patted her back. “A shower and to sleep in my own bed.”
“Of course,” Belle, her stepmother cooed. “Robert and Neil, help your father upstairs. Mr. Garza, thank you, Marina will assist you with anything you need.”
The gladiator turned to face her, amused brown eyes slid from her bare feet to her calves. His head cocked to the side as his gaze continued upward, taking in her bright red silk shirt dress, stopping briefly at her breasts and then finally to her eyes.
Asshole.
She raised an eyebrow, stared at his crotch, which seemed to salute, and shrugged with what she hoped appeared to be disinterest. Marina turned and checked the buttons on the front of her dress were fastened before hastening to the kitchen.
“Did you want coffee, or a sandwich?” she asked.
No response came from the hulking man behind her. Marina turned.
AJ stopped inside her personal space.
His intimidating presence surged and she jumped back pulling a small stick, maybe a pine needle, off the front of his shirt and looked up.
“Sandwich and water, please,” he said. His voice was quiet, but easy to hear in the still house.
“It speaks.” Relieved to have her presence acknowledged finally, she busied herself with sandwich making.
He brushed past her to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. Even his forearms had muscles that danced when he moved.
“What?” His voice was like a caress to her ears.
And he’d caught her ogling. Surely he was used to women staring at him. No one looked like he did without trying. Marina handed him a dishtowel to dry his hands and ignored his question. “Thank you for finding my father.”
He nodded.
“Do you know why he was kidnapped? I mean, we’re not the richest people in Colombia. We’re not even the richest Americans.”
He shook his head, he maintained eye contact with her and not her breasts. He folded the towel and set it on the counter.
She handed him a cold bottle of water, which he accepted with a nod. He gracefully twisted the cap off and tilted his head back as he swallowed. Even his jaw was attractive. Dirt smeared his neck, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. He smelled a little goatey.
Marina turned back to sandwich-making and slapped it on a plate along with an apple.
He took it and handed her the empty water bottle.
“Would you like another?”
“Yeah.”
She pulled another out of the refrigerator and recycled the empty one under the sink.
“Mr. Garza,” she said.
“Call me AJ.”
“AJ, I was wondering if we could talk in private?”
He glanced around the empty kitchen. Her family probably remained in her father’s suite of rooms upstairs, pestering him with questions, which was fine, but she wanted to know what AJ saw when he found her father.
“Please?” She prompted him for an answer.
“You gotta shower in your room?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I’ll follow you.”
She froze, her comprehension sluggish. “You’ll follow me to my room?” she clarified.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Lady, I’m officially off the clock. You wanna talk, we’re gonna do it my way.”
Apparently, the gladiator didn’t want to smell like a goat. “Okay.” She turned and walked toward the East wing. “My name is Marina.”
“Why are you on the servant’s side of the house?” AJ asked mere inches behind her, startling her once again.
She whirled around. “Stop doing that!” She resisted the urge to stamp her foot because she was not a silly schoolgirl, regardless of her hormones that acted otherwise.
“Doing what?” A corner of his mouth tipped up with a smile he refused to share.
“Sneaking up on me.” Marina crossed her arms, quelling the urge to hit him because he was filthy.
He spread his hands out in exasperation, keeping the sandwich and apple balanced on the plate. “You knew I was following you.”
She turned, pushed her bedroom door open.
“Why are you in the servant’s side?” he asked again, closing the bedroom door behind him and locking it.
“Why did you do that?” Marina heard the sharpness of her tone and stepped further back putting more space between them.
“Because I’m gonna take a shower and I don’t take my gun off unless the door is locked.”
“Oh.” That made sense. Gladiator skills included being safety conscious. Right?
He raised an eyebrow and waited for Marina’s answer. He placed the water bottle and plate down on the dresser and ate the sandwich in four bites.
Marina wished she’d made him a second sandwich. “We rented the house for the project. My oldest brother brought his wife and kids, it made more sense for them to take the rooms on the East wing. Besides, it’s just a bedroom.”
He opened the bottle of water and looked around the room while drinking. “Why not rent a different house?”
“I don’t know.” Why did she have to sound so flustered?
His eyes scanned the sparse furnishings, her closet, organized by color and style and overflowing. But very organized. His eyes widened and his lips twitched.
“I like things organized.” Her tone was a bit haughty, but then she really didn’t need to explain herself to a stranger.
His lips twitched more, and he walked to the bathroom. He may have muttered, “Admitting it is the first step.” He put the now empty water bottle beside the sink.
Asshole.
“It’s a tiny closet,” she argued. “If I didn’t organize it, I’d never find anything.”
Oh, sweet heavenly hosts…
So many muscles, and all in the right place. Nothing like her brothers who weren’t fat but in their family muscle definition was found in the dictionary, not in actual practice.
AJ bent over, untied his boots and kicked them off. He dragged his socks off and tucked them inside his boots. Marina couldn’t help but notice his perfect butt. She wondered if he intentionally bent over, like Neil’s girlfriend who’d contort herself into the oddest positions to make her B-cups appear larger.
“I thought you wanted to talk.” He opened the shower stall door and turned on the shower.
“I wanted to have your opinion about the kidnappers.” Marina swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. He wouldn’t get naked in front of her? And would that be a bad thing?
His eyes narrowed. “What about them?”
“Well, do you think someone paid them to kidnap my father? Do you think they were smart enough to come up with it on their own? Why was my father a target? What was the place like where you found him?”
“It was in the jungle. A small campsite, crude, and new.”
“New? What do you mean?”
His hands moved to his belt buckle and Marina lunged forward, placing her hands over his. “Wait a minute, please.”
He shook her hands off. “We’re on my time now. You wanna talk, fine. I’m taking a shower.”
“You can’t give me five minutes?”
In answer, he turned.
Marina closed her eyes and heard the zipper slide and then his pants thunked to the floor. Apparently, the gun was in one of the pockets. She sneaked a peek of him stepping–gloriously naked–into the combination bathtub and shower.
She momentarily considered joining him.
Instead, she held a washcloth over the door.
AJ rolled open the door slightly and steam filled the room, billowing out.
Sweat beaded on her lip and between her breasts. She waggled the washcloth through the doorway, but his hand grasped her wrist and yanked Marina inside. She caught her ankle on the lip of the tub, lurched forward and plastered her chest against his.
He covered her mouth and muffled her surprised yelp. He lifted her into the shower. “Turn around,” he said and maneuvered her to the far wall.
Water dripped off Marina and the silk dress clung to her. She faced the wall, her hands fisted and anger brewing.
His hand still covered her mouth; his lips next to her ear. “Now, if you wanna fuck, take your dress off. You wanna talk, talk.” He stepped back, and the water struck her from different angles after ricocheting off his muscles. His very muscly muscles.
Fuck boomeranged around her shocked brain. Crass, crude but very descriptive. Was she considering the request? Marina reasoned her sexual attraction to him was purely Darwinian based, and she could overcome the lust with logic. Plus, he’d ruined one of her favorite dresses.
Her logical brain took over. “You’re an asshole. Why did you pull me in here? I could have easily talked to you and remained dry.”
“Nope.” The fragrance of her shampoo filled the small space and she could hear the water sluicing off his body. She refused to turn around, instead pulling at the front of the dress, which was transparent when wet. Probably why it was dry-clean only.
“Tell me about the campsite,” she said.
“I did.”
“How many people were there?’
“Three. All men, looked like hired mercenaries, and not very good ones, late forties.”
“Why would someone hire mercenaries to kidnap my father?”
“Money.”
She turned around and the water bounced into her eyes. She shielded her eyes from the oncoming spray, but not before noticing that he was definitely ready for the previously mentioned first option.
His penis was distracting–and mesmerizing. A darker shade than his olive skin, and veiny. Nothing like her toy… “Um, do you think you can find out who hired them?”
“It’ll cost you,” he said. His hand reached out and his forefinger touched the top button of the dress.
“I have money.” She slapped his hand away, not liking his insinuation.
He laughed, his abdomen contracting, his cock bobbing.
Her eyes followed it like it was a metronome.
“Lady, you know you want to touch me.”
She curled her hands into fists at her sides and tilted her chin, meeting his eyes with a glare. “Of course I want to touch you. You’re extremely physically attractive and you know it. You’re also an asshole.” She didn’t add she had standards. She had standards. She was also so out of her depth with men like him. Give her an actuarial or an engineer and she was fine. Men with muscles? They didn’t even like to talk about the weather.
His eyebrows shot up and then furrowed, as if comprehension was an issue. It definitely caused his “resolve” to flag, his penis deflated like a balloon with a small leak.
“Eyes up here, lady,” he murmured.
“It’s Marina.”
“Yeah. Your name suits your eyes.”
She blinked. Was that a compliment? Her eyes were green-blue or blue-green depending on the day. They were her only feature she liked.
His hand slid behind her neck and tightened. Not threatening, and not an unpleasant sensation. Twenty-two years old and now she found a man attractive and he was a non-communicative Neanderthal.
Damn Darwin and sexual selection.
His lips hovered over hers as he whispered, “I haven’t slept in three days and I need to fuck. You keep staring at me like you’d like to help me with that. Am I wrong?”
Marina shook her head, too stunned to speak.
“I want one night in your bed. I’ll leave in the morning and find out who hired the kidnappers and email you. You won’t get a phone call, and I won’t be back. Just one night.”
The water was now lukewarm and his free hand turned off the shower, turning his body slightly.
One night, no awkward embarrassment over her lack of experience because he’d be gone. His idea had merit.
“One night,” she clarified. “You’ll be gone before my family wakes up?”
“I’ll leave at six.” He watched her warily, his eyes studying her face before dropping to her chest. “Is that a black bra?”
Marina nodded.
He rolled his eyes. “The first time is gonna be quick, but the next time I’ll go slower.”
“I didn’t say I agreed.” She enunciated each word, wishing she didn’t feel so inept. Her cheeks heated and she knew she was blushing. The thing was, she didn’t have actual sexual experience with a man, or any other human. They’d moved too much to get attached to people and well, the batteries for her BOB were universal and it was much easier to travel with, and never complained, and she didn’t have to worry about bed-head or bad breath.
The gladiator chuckled. He. Laughed. Well, then allow the world-rocking to commence. She narrowed her eyes and pushed him.
He opened the shower door and stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping her in it. He grabbed a second and leisurely stroked the towel across his body.
“Unbutton your dress.” A quiet request.
Not a command. This was still her choice.
He tied the towel around his waist. He lifted her robe off the back of the door and held it open. “Come on, take off the wet clothes. You’ve got to feel miserable.”
She did. “You’ve ruined my dress.”
“It’s an ugly dress.”
Marina huffed but turned around, quickly working the buttons down the front of it. She shrugged it off her shoulders and looked over her back. He stood, the robe clutched in one hand, his other stroking himself. His towel laid forgotten at his feet.
“Wow,” she whispered. She peeled the dress off her shoulders and tossed the sopping wet garment onto the floor.
“A thong?” His voice sounded choked.
&n
bsp; She turned around. “That’s huge. It wasn’t that big in the shower.”
“You weren’t half naked in the shower.”
Grower versus shower made sense now. “Huh.” She grunted softly, mesmerized by the rapid and fluid motion of his hand. “That’s a lot, um, rougher than I expected.” She reached forward and trailed her fingers over the top. Silky, hot, firm, and a warm ochre color. She pulled back quickly when he growled.
“Fuck,” he grunted and covered himself with the robe, jacking off furiously. He looked up sheepish, a half smile and one dimple giving him a little boy look that probably got him out of all sorts of trouble. “Sorry about that.”
Her mouth opened and closed. “Did you just… did… That was my robe!”
“Yeah.” He smiled. “The silk was hot.” He winked. “I’ll make it up to you.”
He balled up the robe and threw it on top of her ruined dress. He cocked his head, his nostrils flared and he released a breath. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook; the droplets striking her skin and cooling it. He stood tall and proud, rolling his shoulders back. He was truly a specimen worthy of adoration.
He seemed like a man who would make good on his promise to make it up to her.
And, she’d never had to see him again…
And while her BOB taught Marina what she liked, she wanted to know what men would like. He could be her tutor, for just one night…
“Prove it,” she whispered.
His whiskey-colored eyes studied her. “One night, no strings.”
“Right.”
He shook his head, his eyes narrowed and he cleared his throat. “I’ll find out who hired the kidnappers even if you don’t want to fuck.”
She cringed at his language but stepped closer and put her finger against his mouth. “It’s probably better if you say less.”
His tongue reached out and licked her fingertip, sending a shiver through Marina, making her stomach coil in anticipation for what would happen next.
“Whatever the lady wants,” he said with amusement.
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