by Tasha Fawkes
He hooked an arm under my knee, pulling my leg up to my chest, changing the angle as he drove harder and faster into me, causing my eyes to lose focus. This was everything I didn’t realize sex could be. Sweat, hot breath, the sounds of skin on skin. Tongues, lips, teeth.
Our lovemaking was exquisite. It was heart-pounding, glorious, wet, hot sex. This wasn’t just sex, though, it was something more. Something more made this moment of coming together perfect. A squeak escaped my throat as I climaxed, and my moans of pleasure spurred him on still more. We rode the waves, contractions, and throbs of ecstasy together until we lay exhausted in each other’s arms.
When it was over, my body was slick with sweat. He lay on the bed beside me, also breathing heavily. He turned onto his side, bracing his head on a bent elbow as his free hand caressed my skin, sliding smoothly over my waist and hip as I also rolled onto my side to face him.
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and attach myself to him like a barnacle onto the side of a ship. I wanted him so desperately that it hurt.
I wept.
Low, soothing sounds issued from his lips, his voice caressing me as smoothly as his hands. He knew something troubled me, but he would wait for me to talk about it. It was little things like that that endeared him to me. He was like two totally different people. The outside mob boss Marcus, and this lover of mine, this man that he became inside the walls of his penthouse, and who was nothing like the man outside.
How could I do this to him? Then again, how could I not?
Twelve
Marcus
I lay quietly beside Allie, unable to shake the feeling that I was missing something. Something very wrong.
Even as my breathing slowed after the mind-blowing sex, my body couldn’t relax. She’d just about fucked my brains out, as if desperate, as if it…as if it were the last time? A goodbye?
Had she changed her mind about marrying me? With a choked sigh, she lay on her back, eyes closed, not moving as I watched her carefully. An unexpected surge of disappointment and regret captured my thoughts. Was it goodbye?
I said nothing, hesitant to say anything, not wanting to hear the words she obviously needed to say. The thought of Allie leaving me left me feeling…desolate and abandoned. I had never allowed myself to form an attachment to a woman because I abhorred the idea of being latched onto them.
This was the other way around. It was me. I was the one who’d done the latching. I’d pulled her into my world, unable to let her go.
I needed her. She pulled me from my darker self. She’d somehow managed to believe that I was more than I was. That I was more than an angry, violent man who didn’t care about anyone or anything except for my loyalty to Niall and the Outfit.
I had lived my life serving the Outfit, but Allie had shown me that I was more than that. She had shown me that I could feel, that I could smile and laugh, that I could be a man who knew—or was still learning—how to trust and love.
Love. Did I love Allie? Really love her?
The way she deserved?
And more importantly, was love enough to keep us together?
Deep down, on a logical level that lacked any emotion whatsoever, I knew I couldn’t blame her if she did change her mind about marrying me. I was a mob boss. I was nearly twenty years older than her. I was pretty much raised on the wrong side of the tracks, in a world of crime and violence, while she was young, extremely intelligent, and had a bright, lucrative career ahead of her…if I hadn’t already screwed that up for her.
It wasn’t like I had planned this any more than she had. Since we first met, I hadn’t seen the age difference, didn’t acknowledge the different lifestyles. She was an extremely smart, optimistic, and mature woman, well beyond her years. I respected her. I felt lighter around her. I felt normal whenever she was near.
Yes, I loved her. And yet, if she asked to be released of her acceptance of the marriage proposal, I would have to be gracious enough to give it to her, didn’t I? I sighed softly, waiting for the blow.
“There’s something you need to know.”
Her words, spoken so softly in the near darkness of the bedroom, sent a surge of disappointment through me. I sensed that things were about to change. I stiffened, left off exploring her sweat-slickened body with my hand, knowing that my touch would make whatever she wanted to tell me even more difficult.
“Tell me.”
She sighed deeply, shook her head twice on the pillow and opened her eyes to stare up at the ceiling. The dull glow from city lights easing into the bedroom made it easy for me to see her glistening eyes. The tears ripped at my gut, but I didn’t reach out to her. Instead, I waited, my heart pounding in my throat.
“I’ve been approached by an ATF agent.”
Of all the things I’d expected her to say to me, that wasn’t even close. Had I heard her right? An ATF agent had approached her? When? Where? Why?
“They been surveilling the Outfit for some time.”
Her voice emotionless, flat, as if destitute of any hope whatsoever. A myriad of questions raced through my brain, along with one overriding emotion—anger.
“She spoke about your new alliance with the Russians.”
I stiffened and sat up, staring down at her in the darkness as a white-hot rage exploded inside my chest. How could this be? Federal agencies were watching us, and I didn’t know about it until now? And then another thought struck me, one that left me feeling cold inside.
“How the hell…have you been spying on me, Allie?”
She sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her nakedness, pressing it to her chest as her eyes grew as big as saucers. “What? How could you think that?”
I jolted off the bed and began to pace, all the possibilities roiling through my mind. Finally, I stopped next to the bed, my hands fisted at my sides, my chest heaving again, but this time in anger. “This happened before I asked you to marry me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
I wanted to tear something apart. I wanted to rant and rave as my blood pounded through my veins, one emotion after another assaulting my brain. Disbelief. Shock. Pain. I reached for the bedside table and turned on the light, both of us blinking against its brightness. She stared at me, eyes wide and face pale. I needed to see her face. I needed to see her as I snarled the question. “You’re an ATF agent, aren’t you?”
Her jaw dropped, a variety of expressions passing over her features as well. Surprise. Disbelief. Anger.
I expected her to cry at the accusation. I wanted her to deny it, vehemently. She wordlessly stared at me. She didn’t snipe back but lifted her chin, straightened her back and squared her shoulders, her eyes never leaving mine.
“I’ll forget that you even said that,” she said, her voice clipped. “You need to decide, Marcus, once and for all if you’re going to trust me.”
“What does that mean?” I stared dumbly at her, my emotions not quite catching up with my common sense. “Why the hell did you accept my marriage proposal?”
She acted as if the question had been a slap, and I’d been the one to betray her. Her brow furled, and her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.
“If you don’t know the answer to that, you’re a fucking idiot.” She sat even straighter, her voice growing louder. “Why did I accept your marriage proposal, Marcus? Because I’m in love with you! If you don’t know that by now, then that’s your problem!”
I said nothing for several moments. Could I believe her? Could I trust her? I wanted to. I needed to.
She pointed a finger at me, jabbing the air like she held a knife. “You have to make a choice, Marcus.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about. The ATF agent? Us? “What the fuck does that mean?” I snapped. “Is that a threat?” I didn’t think it was possible, but she stiffened even more.
“Take it a
ny way you like,” she said, anger flashing in her eyes. “I love you, and that’s the truth. But you have to choose. Right now.”
I frowned. I wasn’t following her train of thought. What exactly was she talking about? My mind still spun at the idea that the ATF was aware of my alliance with the Russians.
“Choose what?”
“Me or the Outfit.”
I stared in disbelief for several seconds while the words absorbed and resonated inside my brain. Finally, I understood, but the ramifications of her demand took my mind several more seconds to grasp. And then I understood. I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up a hand.
“You need to choose between me or the Outfit, Marcus. If you can’t, then I’m walking out the door, and you’ll never see me again.”
I took a deep breath and sought to temper my anger. What I wanted to say didn’t come out of my mouth. Something else entirely did. “I don’t do well with threats, Allie.” The softness of my voice surprised even me, considering my emotional state.
“It’s the only way,” she said, shaking her head. “I refuse to get taken down with you or the outfit when ATF decides to swoop in.”
I had questions, a myriad of them, but Allie was on a roll and didn’t give me any chance to speak, to absorb the ultimatum in her words. I could only listen, dumbly, numb with shock.
“I’m in love with you, Marcus. You can believe that. But I’m not going to prison for the rest of my life because of your loyalty to Niall or your syndicate. It would kill my father, and it’s not exactly how I pictured my future.”
Some of my anger drained away. She wasn’t a spy. She wasn’t in cahoots with the ATF. If she’d been working with the ATF all along, why would she be telling me all this now? That made no freaking sense.
“You told me that you promised that you would never lie to me,” she continued. “Well, this is me doing the same. I’m telling you that I want to marry you. This is me telling you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But there’s no future for us in the Outfit. I think you know that already. We’ll never be free to live our own lives unless we leave all of this behind.”
Leave it behind? How could I leave it behind?
This was my life!
At the same time, as I watched the determined bundle of outraged energy sitting on my bed, her jaw tight, her eyes never leaving mine, her back stiff with fire, determination, and pride, I once again felt an overwhelming surge of emotion for her.
“You have to let me help you,” she went on, her voice softer now. “But in order to do that, I have to let the ATF believe that I’m working with them. It will buy us some time.”
“Buy us some time?” I muttered. “Time for what?”
“To get some closure, for you to come to a realization that you need to walk away from this life.”
Walk away? How could she ask this of me? Didn’t she know that you just didn’t walk away from a life like this? Despite her naïveté and unfamiliarity with my world, she certainly knew that, didn’t she?
“And that means some serious thinking, Marcus. Digging into your past to find the answers that you’ve been subconsciously looking for your entire life.”
Answers? What kind of psychobabble was this? Yet, even while I wanted to deny her words, I knew there was some truth to them.
“Starting with Niall Burns.”
I stared at her, eyes wide, shaking my head. This was too much, all at once. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that an ATF agent had met with her. How had they known about Allie? How did they find out about Tarasov? I had dozens of questions, but she seemed to be more focused on our relationship than concerned about federal agencies.
“Be completely honest with yourself,” she continued. “How much do you really know about your mentor’s past? What if this alliance with the Russians has been about nothing more than setting you up? Has Niall been behind it all? Niall, who’s been pushing you so hard these last few months to seal the alliance? Niall, who—”
“Enough!”
I didn’t want to hear anymore. I didn’t want to hear her harsh words about Niall, about any of this. If the fucking ATF was on my heels, I needed to do something about it, and quickly. I needed to figure this out.
I believed that Allie was not an ATF agent, but I needed more information. I knew now that it would be impossible for me to even ask her to do some digging into Tarasov, even back at her new office with Selena. Chances were that the ATF and maybe even the FBI had already hacked into the computer systems I had purchased for her. Was that how they’d learned so much?
My eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How did this ATF agent know about you?”
“I have no idea! I’m still trying to figure all that out myself.”
“But—”
She slashed her hand in the air. “That question isn’t the highest on my list of priorities at the moment.” She lifted her chin. “So, what’s it going to be?”
I stared at her, impressed, dismayed, shocked, and a number of other emotions that flew through my brain so fast I couldn’t identify them. One thing I did know. I wanted her. I couldn’t let her go. I also didn’t want these threats hanging between us, this anger.
I stepped around the bed, grasped her arms and pulled her upright, the sheet dropping away from her luscious body. I pulled her against me, her skin hot against mine as I growled, a possessive sound that somehow expressed my emotions. “You belong to me, Allie, and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
She stiffened once more, then relaxed against me, her arms wrapping around my waist. “Marcus, I—”
“Don’t say another word,” I said, turning us until she was on her back. I moved up her body, but she turned until she was on her belly, her face hidden in a pillow.
And just like that, I was hard again. My dick hard and throbbing with desire as I stroked her back with a trembling hand. “I’ll show you what you can look forward to as the wife of the most dangerous man in Philly.” Before she could say a word, I surged into her wetness.
“Marcus—”
“We’ll figure this out,” I murmured, rejoicing in her tightness as my hips rocked, reveling in the feel of her around me. We had to figure this out. Somehow. I couldn’t let her go.
I moved slowly and gently within her until she responded, and then I grew more aggressive, letting my lust and my emotions take over, leaving us both gasping as I took us both over the pinnacle once more.
Thirteen
Marcus
The night after Allie delivered her ultimatum, around eight o’clock, I waited impatiently in a booth at the back of a bar in the southeastern part of Philly, waiting for Detective Hayes. It was a dive, dark and smelling of beer and cigarettes, the cheap vinyl covering the booths roughly two decades out of date.
Even so, the beer was cold, the few patrons hunched over the bar at the far end paid me no mind, and moderate-volume Classic Rock music floated through the place from speakers mounted in the ceiling corners.
Though watchful, I wasn’t concerned that anyone here—or in the neighborhood—would recognize me. I’d never been here before, which was one of the reasons I had chosen it as a meeting place with Hayes. I’d spent most of yesterday processing what Allie had told me about her interaction with the ATF agent, mulling over what I could do regarding the terms of her ultimatum.
How could she ask this of me? How could she not?
The logical part of me understood, while the emotional part, at least the part I chose to acknowledge, resisted. Not because I wanted to be a mob boss forever. I had no such ideas of grandeur, but truth be known, I didn’t know if I could live a normal domestic life. What did that even mean? Normal? This was the only life I knew.
I considered myself intelligent even though I didn’t have a college education or degree. I had never worked a so-called real job. Sure, I had experience in finance, if you wanted to go that stretch, and I knew how to run an organization, and I had at times hobnobbed w
ith politicians, but not to any degree that would give me clout. On the surface, I was a businessman, but if one looked too deeply…
It amazed me. The weight people put in a nice suit and tie and a decent haircut. As long as I threw money their way, for their corporation, their cause, their new acquisition, no one seemed to doubt that Marcus Ryan was a successful business developer. They didn’t look deeper than that.
Hayes and a few other law enforcement officials scattered throughout Philadelphia ensured that nothing ‘suspicious’ regarding my transactions showed up in crime reports. Sure, there had been suspicions over the years, but nothing concrete. I knew the law kept an eye on me from time to time, but on the surface, I kept my hands clean. I made sure of it. Niall had drummed that into me when I was still a teen.
So, if I wasn’t part of the Philly Outfit, what was I? Just another guy? I had enough money tucked away to last a long time if I were careful, and I supposed I could learn to do something more legitimate, but the funny thing was, I never thought about it. What would I be doing now if I hadn’t been raised in the Outfit? Who would I have become? What kind of career would I have chosen? I had no idea. The fact that I had no idea bothered me on a deep level that I wasn’t prepared to explore at the moment.
Not only that, but I was pushing forty. How the hell did a forty-year-old man with no official work experience and no college make a living? Is that what Allie expected of me? To work a nine-to-five job in a bank or something? I shook my head. Ridiculous. How did I move forward when, in every direction, I could step in quicksand?
I had left the penthouse early this morning, leaving Allie asleep in bed. The slumber of the innocent? I wasn’t sure, but I never slept that way.
I stayed away from home, driving through the city by myself, trying to think. I had spoken briefly with Niall about Tarasov’s next shipment, but that was about it. If he sensed that something was wrong, he didn’t mention it. He’d been particularly quiet and cool with me since I punched him in the nose, which wasn’t surprising, but it did cause me a bit of discomfiture. It only added to my dilemma.