Marked Steel: A Stand Alone Dark Romance (Steel Crew Book 8)

by Mj Fields

  As soon as I get close enough to see his eyes, see the pain and anger, I slow down.

  “I’d like you to come with me.” His tone doesn’t match his eyes. He’s calm.

  This is my fault, all my fault, but it ends now.

  I force myself to stay calm. “Can’t do that. I love Matteo.”

  “You love me.”

  Him saying those words to me now pisses me off. “You fucked my cousins!”

  He steps forward and holds out his hand for me. “I apologize.”

  I step back and wrap my arms around my waist. “You gave me black roses once a week for over a year.”

  “That, too.”

  He’s too fucking calm. Too … God, I wish this wasn’t so hard.

  Pissed, I remind him. “You made my life hell.”

  He nods toward the house. “You’ve more than returned the favor.”

  He’s not wrong, but I don’t think he knows to what depths that accusation digs.

  I shake my head. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Not missing a beat, he replies, “You should be with me.”

  This hurts. This hurts so badly.

  “I hate you so much.”

  “You love me. You asked me to come. Now, let’s leave.”

  “I was having a moment. Then I told you not to come.”

  He leans forward and whispers, “You love me.”

  Crushed. I’m fucking crushed.

  I slap away a tear. “I love Matteo. I love the way he loves me. The way I love you is toxic.”

  “Love me,” he repeats my stupid word choice like it’s a win. It’s not. Neither of us wins. He’s going to hate me, and I’m going to hate myself for being fucked up in the head.

  I slap at another tear. “You were my first friend, my first everything. That doesn’t make it a good thing. It just makes it a thing.”

  “A thing.” He nods, as if accepting some sort of arrangement.

  I see his wheels turning, trying to see if he can “work with that.” He can’t. I can’t. Matteo should have had the chance, but I fucked it up.

  I shake my head. “We can’t see each other, not ever again. Do you understand? We can’t.”

  “You messaged me. As long as there’s a chance for us, I’ll never not come for you.”

  Still shaking my head, I plead, “Say goodbye to me. Tell me you’ll stay healthy. Tell me you’ll be happy.”

  “Come with me, and neither of us will have to say goodbye.” He takes a step closer, and I freeze as he hugs me.

  A sob threatens to escape. No, it actually does.

  This hurts.

  Fucking monsters, where are you when I need you?

  “I can take care of you. I can change. I can love you better,” he promises.

  “No.” I push away from him. “He knows everything, and he still loves me.”

  “Not more than I do.”

  “You broke my fucking heart,” I cry. “I’ll never trust you with it again. And that’s why I—”

  “Tris,” Brisa whispers, sticking up for him, of course, but I’m glad. She’s right; I’m a horrible person for what I have done.

  I slap away more tears then hold up my hand. “I’m married. We got married tonight. The message. ‘RIP us,’ Marcello. I didn’t want you to come.”

  His face turns cold, and he looks at Brisa. “Tell me it’s not true.”

  She looks down.

  “You fucking married him?” He steps toward me and, for the first time, he scares me, and I know he feeds off that. I can’t let him see it.

  I step back as he yells, “You fucking married him!”

  “Tris.”

  I turn at the sound of Matteo’s voice.

  “Dead man walking.” Marcello laughs maniacally.

  Matteo rolls his eyes.

  “I’m fine, Matteo. We’re all fine.” I force a smile as he turns me and begins wiping away my tears, watching Brisa stand between us and Marc.

  Marc looks down at me and licks his lips. “Your cousins were pawns. Anytime you’d like to be fucked properly, you let me know.” He then looks over my head at Matteo. “I’m going to fuck your husband, too. I heard he goes both ways.”

  Oh God, I want to scream at him to shut up. I want him to know that he should love him.

  I shake my head. “Marcello, that’s—”

  “But you’ll never touch my dick again,” he cuts me off as glares at me. “You’ll never come on my tongue. You’ll never beg nearly enough for even a fingertip in your tight, little, needy asshole.”

  Brisa gasps, “Okay, yuck! Shut up. It’s time—”

  “I’m going to ruin everyone you love. I’m going to strip you bare, but not the way you like to be stripped. And I’m going to start where it hurts.” His threat sends chills to my bones, and Matteo pulls me to his side.

  Marc looks down at Brisa. “She’s hated you her entire life.”

  It’s not a threat. God, what have I done.

  “That’s enough!”

  His eyes get a look that I haven’t seen. Again, it’s frightening, but not for me. I’m scared for him.

  “But don’t blame her when she acts out. It can’t be helped. Your sister is mentally ill.”

  “Ranger!” Brisa yells.

  “Tell her, Tris, tell her!” he demands.

  When I see Ranger, I look at Marc and plead, “Go with them.”

  “Tell her!” he yells, and I jump.

  I look at Brisa, hoping if I do as he asks, this will end. “I’m fucked up, okay? I don’t hate you specifically. I hate everyone, including me. I’m fucking bipolar!”

  His eyes are taunting now. He sees the fear, so I step in front of Ranger and poke him in the chest. “And you’re going to be happy one day. Just not with me. Our monsters don’t dance well together. Matteo knows how I feel about you—”

  “He has no clue how fucked up you are, does he?”

  “Tris”—Matteo grabs my elbow and pulls me back—“let’s get you inside.”

  Walking away, I attempt to play on any shred of decency he may still have. “I’m not like that when I’m with him. I’m happy. Be happy.”

  “Fucking ruined! You hear me, Tris? Your whole fucking Crew is going to be ruined!”

  Ranger grabs him and drags him toward the door. Somehow, he breaks free and lunges at Matteo.

  Matteo doesn’t move, and Ranger grabs him by the hair.

  I cry out to Brisa, “Go with him. Make sure he gets back to Sabato and Mel. Tell them I’m sorry. And, Brisa, cancel tomorrow. I just can’t.”

  “Tris,” Matteo whispers, and I look up at him as my body shakes. “I just want us. Me and you. Just us.”

  “Then that’s what you’ll have.”

  Inside the room, I crouch down and curl into a ball, wanting desperately to be alone with my monsters because, right now, if I had to choose the tormenting they dish out over the hurt I have caused, I would let them tear me apart. “I am so sorry. I am—”

  He sits on the floor beside me and pulls me onto his lap. “I know that wasn’t easy for you. I know it hurts. And I know that was his intention. That’s not love, Tris. That is someone who wants to hurt you, and you keep allowing it.”

  “I don’t deserve you. I’m fucked up, I know. But I love you, and I thought if you chose them … if you didn’t love me, at least I would be close and maybe we could be friends.” I slap away tears. “And it was selfish. And now I’ve hurt him again, Brisa, and the worst, I hurt you.”

  He hums while wiping my tears and shaking his head. “You showed me love in a way I never expected. You were willing to sacrifice your health to stay in my life.”

  “And how is that sane? How is that okay?”

  “We need sleep. We need to rest our worries, and if you need to talk about it tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, we can. But nothing will be resolved until we have clear heads.”

  “God, see?” I grab his face. “You have a headache, don’t you?”

 
“Language barrier, not you. Bed, please? Rest.”

  I stand up and climb into bed. He stands and takes a second before doing the same.

  Once in bed, he wraps his arm around me and pulls my head to his chest. Then he reaches over and taps something. Music begins to play softly as he reaches up and turns out the light.

  “Te quiero, Tris. Descansa.”

  “I love you. I love you so much. Please, believe me.”

  A new day

  Matteo

  I wake in the dark, alone. Fear grips me that she has somehow disappeared, and I quickly get up, grab my phone, and look at the time.

  It’s noon.

  I see a message form her and several missed calls.

  Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I hit the screen and hold the phone to my ear as I walk to the bathroom.

  “I’m glad you returned my call, Matteo. We need to talk.”

  I will never blindly hit to return a call again. “That’s not unnecessary. Everything that needed to be said has been said.”

  “I was expecting that response, but I am asking you to give me thirty minutes of your time.”

  “Your son took approximately that amount of time from my wedding night. Work that out amongst yourselves and lose my number.”

  “Matteo, there are dozens of lives at risk if you do not fully understand what kind of questions could arise if we do not sort out—”

  “I’ve looked into you. I want no part of your life, your dealings, or your money.”

  “I will not ask for another moment of your time after this.” He now sounds irritated, and that shouldn’t give me pleasure, yet it does.

  “Hey, Matteo, this is Melyssa Effisto. Excuse the last name and all. We’ve had to keep it because, as you, know money is power, and if we gave up the name, the power would go with it. The power I’m speaking of involves women who have been abused on various fronts and—”

  “With all due respect, Mrs. E—”

  “Not asking for your respect; just thirty minutes. And, unlike my husband, I’ll say please, and I’m not too proud to beg.”

  “This is a manipulation tactic, and I don’t take—”

  “Matteo, when you’re at war, and not the kind of war you see on the news, you use any means possible and work side by side with a man who comes off as a total asshole, but his bark is much worse than his bite. So, again, thirty minutes, and we’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you’d like.”

  “I could schedule you in after my honeymoon,” I say, hoping to make her angry enough that she kills the call.

  “Four o’clock sounds perfect. We’ll meet you at the little outdoor café in town. Caffe Plum.”

  “I think your time would be best served keeping track of your son.”

  “That’s taken care of. He’s spending some time with Thor and—”

  “I don’t care to know anything about him. He is nothing to me. But my wife would prefer, as she told him before his exit last night, that he is to find happiness as she has.”

  “Yes, he will heal, as will his broken nose and—”

  “I’m sure Ranger was given no choice.”

  “That we can agree on. Now, how about that meeting?”

  “I haven’t agreed to a meeting.”

  “But if you don’t show, I’ll just keep bugging you until you do. Hope to see you soon.” And she hangs up.

  Brisa walks in as I set my phone down.

  She looks at me, eyes sad, but hues of green are more abundant, telling me something is also brought her happiness.

  I step toward the threshold where she stands. “I woke to a cold bed.”

  She wraps her arms around me and hugs me. “That won’t happen again.”

  I embrace her the same. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Leaning back, I glance down at her. “You’re happy, no?”

  “I think so.” She pushes up on her toes, seeking a kiss, in which I won’t deny, not ever.

  Taking my hand, she steps back. “You ready to get out of here?”

  “A million times, yes.”

  She lets go and pounces on the bed, sits, and pats the spot next to her. “Brisa has agreed to do the social media thing. I gave her my card to book our trip.” She pats the bed again, and I watch her eyes begin to light up.

  She moves over and sits on her knees to face me. “Ranger looked super annoyed, but I think it’ll be fun.” She grins and continues, “So, Brisa wants to see some of the natural wonders, which I think will be amazing.” She naps her fingers. “Shoot, is, like, sixty days okay? Will—”

  “Traveling around the world with you is more than okay.”

  She lunges at me and hugs me. I allow myself to fall to my back, and she continues, “Norway has a place called Preachers Pulpit. So, if you’re into big rocks, that’s kind of cool.” She straddles me.

  “I’m into whatever you are.”

  “Well, we have that in common.” She leans down and kisses me then sits back. “The Great Wall of China.” She kisses me on the cheek, sits back up, winds her hair up in her hand, and then slips the elastic band from her wrist and does something that causes it to end up in a mess, a beautiful mess of a bun on top of her head. “The Pyramids in Egypt.” She kisses me again, and this time, as she sits, she shrugs off the white hoodie she has on. “Mozambique.” She kisses my cheek then sits as she grabs the hem of her tank top, pulls it up, and tosses it across the bed. “Are you tired yet? Because if you think that’s too much, I promise it won’t. We’ll have plenty of chill time between legs of the journey.”

  Her lacy white bra against her sun-kissed skin, stunning.

  “I’m already enjoying the journey. I can’t wait to hear where we’ll go next.”

  “Argentina.” She grins as she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra. It falls from her body, exposing her perfect breasts, her nipples hard and begging to be taken care of.

  I start to sit up “I think I’ll lick Argentina breast.”

  Giggling, she pushes me back. “Translations a bit off, huh?”

  “Absolutely not,” I say, running my hand up her soft abdomen, cupping her breast and rubbing my thumb over her peaked nipple.

  She arches her back and groans as she stands up.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I grab her ankles.

  Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her linen shorts, she smirks. “After Argentina, Peru.” She shimmies them down and crooks her finger at me. I sit up, and she holds my shoulder to step out of one leg then the next. Then she bends down and kisses my head.

  Hands on her ass, eyeball-to-eyeball with her lacy white panties, I rub my nose across them and whisper, “I can safely say that I love where this trip is going.” I look up. “Please tell me there’s another stop.”

  “Why, dear husband, there is.”

  Kissing her belly, I hook and begin pulling her panties down.

  “Aren’t you curious as to where the next stop is?”

  “I’m an intelligent man, Mrs. Arias. I am quite certain I know exactly where the next stop is.” I quickly remove her panties, garb her up, and place her on her back.

  Laughing, she squeals, “Last stop, Mexico.” She spreads her legs wide enough to accommodate me, reaches inside of my boxers, and pulls me by my cock to her entrance.

  “You may take the lead anytime you wish, Mrs. Arias,” I say before thrusting fully inside of her.

  ~~~

  Tangled in one another’s arms, she tells me of her and Brisa’s exchange and that she has confirmed with Brisa the things Marcello told her last night. She said her brother seemed to already know, but she was sure that her parents didn’t tell him.

  “I think this trip will be amazing. Healing even.” She props her head up on my chest, kisses the flesh above my heart, and says, “We’ll have plenty of downtime.”

  “Any time with you is a treasure.”

  “And if it gets too annoying, we can just go wherever you want to go. And if I get too annoying, you can j
ust tell me to go annoy Brisa. She’s used to it.”

  “Your sister loves you, Tris. And I want nothing more than to see you and her relationship healed.”

  “Speaking of healing.” She smiles and taps my chest. “The place in Mexico is said to have magical healing powers.”

  Looking in her eyes, I try to gauge where she’s at mentally right now. There are no clouds, but …

  She interrupts my thoughts. “I’m fine. Took my pill, and the gray monster, delusion, is on its leash, but hope’s alive and kicking.”

  “You know that I have long accepted my fate.”

  “I do. I completely understand it. I also know that I never believed in miracles, and you made me a believer.”

  “Tris, I—”

  “I know you’re doing everything you can to stay here with me.”

  “My forever is with you.”

  “And mine with you.” I start to reply, and she kisses my chest. “Here, Matteo.” She then holds her hand over her chest. “And here.”

  We kiss like we did before, and as much as I love the passionate kisses with her, this kind, the soft, sweet, loving kind of kisses we share, they calm my heart.

  When my phone rings from where I left it in the bathroom, I am brought back to a place of discontent.

  “Are you going to get that?”

  “No.”

  She searches my eyes. “I’m here, I’m fine, I’m yours. Talk to me.”

  ~~~

  Carlos sits next to me. Tris insisted that, if she wasn’t here, that he be. I also didn’t miss the fact that Zandor was sitting in a jag across the way.

  “You’re lucky I was available today, Matteo,” Carlos says, pulling my attention back to him from Zandor.

  “Yes, I appreciate it.” I look down at my tea.

  “I had plans. A wedding.”

  I look up at him. “Again, I apologize for not being able to foresee the future.”

  “Apology accepted.” He acts as if he possibly may truly accept it. However, knowing Carlos, he doesn’t.

  “Well, isn’t she a stunner. A regular Jackie O.” He stands as Melyssa Effisto approaches. Sabato is not with her. I begrudgingly follow suit.

  He kisses her cheeks, and I extend a hand.

  “I’ve got thirty minutes.” She smiles as she sits. “Let’s make the most of that, shall we?” She opens her leather bag and pulls out a file, sets in on the table, and then pulls out some sort of device, sets it next to it, and hits a button.