by V. Theia
And then she remembered.
Tag moved, groaning some as he straighten his body, filling the entire two-seater couch when he stretched arms above his head.
Snatches of last night came back to her as she stared into brilliant ocean eyes.
And then it dumped on her all at once.
What she told him.
How she reacted.
What she couldn’t take back.
* * *
LAST NIGHT
There was a routine to Tag, she noted early on.
He’d allow a few days to lapse before he dropped by her apartment or called her into the office at the gym to see how she was.
After watching him training and sweating for five days, using his body as a lethal weapon to overpower his opponent, she felt it in her bones tonight he’d drop by.
She cleaned every speck of dust and shined the surfaces like she thought the Queen of Genovia was coming to tea.
Nerves clattering through the top layer of skin when she heard the familiar pipes of a motorcycle, nearly hyperventilated.
Far from fearful. He didn’t annoy her either.
She found his tactics of friendship quite endearing.
“Breathe, Marianna. Breathe. He’s not the boogeyman.”
The massive mountain of a man who smiled too much and had a cocky swagger to his words and his walk. The man who always watched her with a hot gaze from beneath his hooded eyes. He was no one to fear. Then why was she shaking?
Something changed in the last few days during his workouts.
She told herself she was watching to make sure he didn’t break his face more than he had already. He’d healed, sure. But men were especially stupid with their wellbeing.
Marianna hovered in the doorway at first.
Watching him aiming kicks, jabbing punches.
And then a day later she moved closer to the ring. And then closer still, until she could see the whites of his eyes, see the enjoyment he derived from overpowering with skill.
His body was a machine. Honed to perfection.
He was good, that much she could tell.
She’d even started watching MMA fights on television to compare, and Tag was by far more superior.
It couldn’t be an attraction. This new thing she experienced burning inside her.
And it was burning.
Every day for five days.
Unable to speak to her children this week, it put Marianna in a funk.
And so, she let Tag distract her.
A brutal fighter who used every part of his body to earn a win.
He was poetry in motion.
A demon coming for war and she found it magnificent to watch him, with a pulse tapping hard in her stomach. Frightened for him as he grappled, but also this rapid burning she felt too. Alive.
She felt alive, watching two men trying to hurt each other.
The bike engine stopped. Hearing the heavy footsteps on the metal staircase outside, she pulled open the door before his first loud knock finished shaking the wood.
Tag flashed his signature biker grin. The same grin that she saw turned many gym bunnies into piles of horny hormones at his feet.
He might dress in worn denim and leather and walk like he owned the world, but the charm oozed out of him.
“Hey.” She breathed, looking up. His light-colored hair was windswept, and he dragged a hand through it. The other one was holding a large paper bag as she moved back to let him inside out of the cold.
“Hey, darlin’. You didn’t come to the cookout. I brought you a little something of everything.”
Oh, that was tonight?
“Thank you.” She said. “I was reading and forgot the time.”
His smirk appeared as he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over a chair, and then unpacked the feast. Glorious smells hit her nose, and she wanted to crane around his thick forearm to see what he’d brought her.
“Darlin’, you had no intention of coming to the party.”
She flushed. This was true. She couldn’t picture herself at a biker party. Everyone talked about how crazy they were.
“Zara, the girl you met the other day, she was there with all her kids, she would have kept you company.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize children attended.”
“Babe,” he grinned. “It was a family thing, not an orgy.”
Breathless, she listened to his laughter while he grabbed a plate and fork. She had to ask. “Do…do orgies happen?”
The look he cut her over his sharp shoulder would have eviscerated a woman capable of combustion. Lucky for Marianna, she was incapable of those emotions.
The look was her answer, and she felt a tug of sickness, wondering if he did those things.
“No, darlin’. I don’t fuck in groups of more than two. Me and a woman.” He started. “You’re gonna hear shit about my club. Most of it isn’t true. You ever wanna know something, you ask me, okay? I’ll tell you.”
“It’s none of my business.”
It wasn’t. But she found herself curious, anyway.
Not much was known about Tag, other than he was stubborn and pushed his way into her life uninvited. He was so damn pushy! And while that should scare her to know he had that kind of tenacity in him, she was unconcerned.
Knowing he checked in with her became a habit she looked forward to.
The flutter in her belly didn’t mean attraction, Marianna asserted, while she eyed deliciously cut slices of crusted meats.
She was beyond attraction.
Her hormones were switched off to that basic need.
While she’d tried to keep him at arm’s length, it appeared she’d failed miserably. Here he was, in her tiny kitchenette, feeding her again.
“You didn’t have to leave your party, Tag. I feel bad now.”
“You should.” He winked. “Nah, I saw the boys, got attacked by monster kids and then I came here. You like steak, yeah?”
“Yes, very much. I prefer savory food to sweet.”
“So noted.”
“It looks incredible.”
“Dig in.” He held out a chair for her and Marianna slid on.
His woodsy cologne reached out to her like two arms. He propped himself against the kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankle and his arms braced behind him, making the black t-shirt, already stretched to capacity over his wide chest, impossibly tighter.
She gulped, tore her eyes away and speared a piece of garlic chicken. It practically melted in her mouth. Next to that was creamy macaroni and potato salad. She tasted all the morsels before she looked up and found him smiling.
“Do I have food on my face?”
“No, darlin’. I like to see a woman eating properly and not sucking on a sesame seed.”
“You should get a fork. I can’t eat all this to myself. I’ll become greedy.”
“You should be greedy.” He rasped. Did he still mean food? “But I’m not taking your food.”
What a complex man Tag was.
She ate as much as she could and still her plate overflowed, packing the leftovers away in the fridge for tomorrow.
Then caught his gaze on her when she turned around.
Her stomach knotted, as it always did when she felt his eyes.
“Why are you here, Luke?” His Adam’s apple jumped then. He shook like she’d shot him, and she realized it was because she’d used his name. “I mean it, why are you here? I appreciate the food, I do. And your company. But I don’t want to take you away from anything. Your party.”
Women, too.
Weren’t bikers notorious for sleeping around?
Didn’t every biker book she’d ever read say they liked sex and often with every meal?
She’d seen with her own two eyes how women only came into his gym to see him. Like groupies flocking around their favorite singer.
His face dropped all sense of mirth as it tightened. His eyes darkened and when he stepped forward, Marianna had the urge to ste
p back.
This gentle giant before her with his eyes so stormy, she trusted him.
“I’m glad you brought it up, Marianna. Let’s have it out finally.”
“Have…have what out? What does that mean?”
“It means you’re gonna trust me. We’re gonna be friends. No more of this backing off shit or avoiding me. We’re gonna be friends, hang out, we’ll talk. You’ll come to club parties.”
His tirade wasn’t loud, but it was firm and the only thing she could think of to say was, “you are my boss.”
The smirk lessened some fierceness, then morphed back into that handsome biker everyone fell over themselves to be around.
Don’t think about licking that smirk to see how it tastes.
“I am. But I can be your friend too, you just keep pushing me away. Trust I’ll never fucking hurt you, Anna. Anyone who messes with you, man, woman or dog, I’ll hurt them, you can believe that.”
Ugh, he gave her heart flutters.
What a sweet man.
Did men like him exist? She didn’t know for certain. Her limited experience was tainted. But here he stood, offering kindness again. She knew she didn’t deserve it, that was for sure.
“You would hurt a dog, Tag?”
A chuckle came from his lips and she watched as he messed up his already messy hair as he pulled a hand over it. “I wouldn’t want to, get me? But if one hurt you, I’d hurt it. Probably have fucking nightmares afterward. I’m a dog man.”
“Oh, do you have dogs?” It might be a game changer if he were a dog owner.
“Nah, I’m not home long enough. It would be cruel to keep him caged.”
“You should have dogs. Life is short.”
She could see him with dogs. Little ones. Big ones. Being adored by him.
It would be cute.
Walking around the kitchen, he put dishes into the sink. She watched the domesticity, and he grinned when he caught her. “See how we do this thing, darlin’? Friends is gonna work.”
There was no plan to do what she did next.
Marianna hadn’t been thinking about it.
But the way he looked at her. So trusting.
She crumbled, feeling the guilt gnaw at her insides. She was a horrible, horrible person.
“I’ve been stealing from you.” She blurted and saw his smile drop. “That is why we can’t be friends, Tag. I’m a dreadful person. You’ve been so kind to me. So generous. I don’t deserve a friend like you.” The self-lambasting continued, switching to Russian when her distraught brain couldn’t translate fast enough.
It was only when Tag laid a hand on her shoulder that her words dried up.
“Darlin’, take a breath before you pass out.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I stole!”
“I heard you fine. Explain it to me.”
NINE
“A half-truth is still a lie.” – Marianna
It was uncanny what looking into this man’s cobalt eyes made her want to share with him.
Marianna felt the words in her throat, wanting to confess her sins. And there were many.
“I have been using the office phone without permission. Many times, Tag. I’m so sorry, I will pay for the calls, you can take it from my paycheck.”
“The calls to Russia, yeah, darlin’, I know.” he said, and every inch of Marianna’s lungs poured out in a shocked rush.
“You know? But you have said nothing. You didn’t fire me.”
When a man was comfortable and confident in his size, a simple half shoulder shrug could look rugged.
“It’s a phone call, nothing to get fired for.”
“It was many expensive calls, Tag. I stole from you, I didn’t pay for them.”
“If this is the biggest criminal shit you’ve ever done, you’ve got a long way to catch up to me, get me? Don’t worry about it. But now you brought it up, it’s my time to ask you something.”
It was nerves that skittered down her spine.
Perching on the arm of the sofa, he waited until Marianna dropped to the chair.
“We haven’t talked about it, darlin’, and I’m not asking now, that’s your business, but we both know how we met.”
Her blood turned cold.
She hated the look of sympathy on his face.
Hated it.
She didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her.
Marianna wasn’t damaged.
She was like most of the human population; she made a mistake and was dealing with the fallout. There was no room to endure anyone’s sympathy, least of all Tag’s, who’d seen her in the lowest point of her life. It was one in a long line of reasons she held him at arm’s length, even when he was the only person she could trust. She hated how he’d seen her, so weak and pathetic.
She was more than glad Grigori was dead.
If that made her a wicked person then she was wicked. He’d used her for his own gains, treating her like a pet, promising her freedom in America. Just a little while longer, malen’kaya.
But he lied.
He lied about everything.
“The Bratva aren’t in Colorado anymore.” She hoped they all perished in Hell. Especially her ex-boyfriend. “And I hope you can forgive me for asking, but I gotta ask anyway, darlin’. These calls you’re making back home. Is it to someone who can bring bad shit here?”
Her forehead puckered, not understanding at first. And it had nothing to do with the language barrier. She understood most of Tag’s colloquialisms and slang terms.
Bad shit? What did he mean?
“I don’t understand, bad shit from who?”
“The Bratva. Are you talking to anyone from the Bratva back home?”
If it were possible to lose all the blood in the body and remain alive, then Marianna was living proof. It drained out of her face.
He came to his feet. Concerned. “Babe.”
“No. You do not get to approach me. I want you to leave. I want you to leave right now.” The pain in her chest grew outward, burning as it traveled.
His regret was clear. So was hers.
He had no reason to trust her. Dear god, she’d confessed to stealing from him, of course he should be suspicious.
But this?
The accusation reverberated through her skull, making her soundless scream rush up her throat, threatening to release but for her tightly pressed lips.
To believe she would have anything to do with people like that willingly almost doubled Marianna over to vomit on the floor.
“Leave.” She said in a broken voice.
“Marianna…”
“I was calling my family. I have two children.” She told him, tears pooling her eyes. The shock was there on his face. Good. “I can’t afford a decent enough phone that will give me unlimited data, so I use the phone at the gym. It was wrong, and I won’t do it again. You can fire me. But don’t ever…do not ever accuse me of talking to people like that again, Tag.” The louder she became, the more unhinged she felt.
She didn’t know she’d started shaking until she felt Tag take her two arms in his hands. “Darlin’, I’m sorry. I had to ask.”
“Da, you did. You asked, now I want you to go.”
“Fuck, please don’t cry,” he rasped, pulling her closer. It was one of the few times he’d touched her and not this close, not this long.
“It was only my children,” she hiccupped. “I—I have no other way to talk to them. I would n-n-never conspire with those monsters. I hate them. I hate them all.”
“Shhh, darlin’. I’m sorry. Please stop crying. Fuck, I didn’t wanna make you cry.”
It was too late.
Marianna’s floodgates she’d held at bay for months, burst open like a dam and she fell apart at the seams. When her knees collapsed out from underneath her, he was there to catch her. “Fuck.” He grated.
Without the strength to fight him when he brought her into his chest, so lonely, she curled into the comfort, crying over her babies at home wit
hout her. Unable to understand why she’d left them or how she was desperately trying to get them to her.
She wept for always being alone.
She cried for the imprisoned months where she naively waited for her new life to begin. When all along it had been a horrible lie.
As many times as she’d been hurt, she hadn’t gotten good at hiding it. Proof being the way Tag swept her up in his arms, holding her tight while she dissolved into her own pain.
She should have known when the father of her twins offered her the chance to move to the States he was full of shit.
Marianna lost it, and Tag picked it up.
She wasn’t aware of his words at first, or that he’d moved to the couch. Placing her on his lap, he curled his bigger body around hers.
“Let it out, darlin’. I got you. I’m so fucking sorry I brought it on, but you can let it out now, I won’t let you fall.”
On days when Marianna was tired from working long hours, she dreamed in Technicolor. In those dreams she was once again fourteen years old. With the dazzling hope of being a prima ballerina in her future.
Her father was killed for his gambling habit.
And her dream died.
No money for frivolous things like dance lessons.
It was only in her dreams now she felt anything close to happiness.
Except for him, she realized.
Tag had given her small pockets of contentment.
He held her.
He rocked her.
He spoke soft, calming words her heart took in and stored for later.
And while he did all that, she broke.
* * *
Now
Awkward.
She felt tiny and uncoordinated, like she couldn’t control her limbs anymore.
For a former dancer, that was something new.
Chuckling caught her attention, and she cut her gaze to Tag, who was rising to his feet.
“You look cute as fuck when you first wake up, Anna, even when you practically flung yourself off the couch. Never had a woman fly out of my arms so fast before. I’ll make coffee.”
He strode to the kitchen, Marianna trailing behind him. Because what else could she do? Feeling weirdly tethered to him. He’d held her all night, talking her down when she’d emotionally split open.