Wrecked- Luke & Marie

by Christa Wick

  His answer isn't exactly what I expected but it hits me hard in the chest.

  The perfect mark that Tommy just described is Marie.

  15

  Marie

  I wake after a few hours from a deep sleep surrounded by the animal heat and soft breathing of my lover.

  My lover…

  What a strange combination of words to run through my head. I have a passing familiarity with "her lover," "his lover," "your lover," but never "my lover."

  Until now.

  I snuggle closer to Luke, not wanting to wake him but quickly discovering that he hasn't been asleep for at least a few minutes. His voice is too alert when he speaks.

  "You didn't kick this time." He rubs my back, his strong fingers kneading muscles made sore by his turning me into some aroused, mindless creature before I fell asleep.

  Hiding my face against the curve of his shoulder, I smile and mumble something. Just sound, not words. I don't know what to say to him because I have no idea what really happened between us. It could be nothing more than a game, one I’m currently enjoying beyond anything I’ve experienced in my life. It could be something deeper, more meaningful, yet transient.

  Maybe it will prove to be permanent.

  Feeling my eyes mist at this last thought, I rub them against the pillowcase before lifting my head to look at him.

  "You said I could see Tommy today?"

  "Yeah…I did."

  I go from relaxed to alert, all the unfamiliar joy of waking up and feeling wanted by someone smothered with his three short words and vague tone.

  Luke clears his throat, offers a clipped smile.

  "I talked to him while you were sleeping," he confesses.

  I look at the clock. I haven't overslept.

  "You woke him?

  He nods then kisses my forehead before I can evade his mouth.

  "I couldn't sleep, so I did some work. Then I wanted to get his feedback on Rose and Ortiz."

  I scratch a fingernail across my forehead then across a cheek as the relevance of his words sink in.

  "Rose is Solandro's hostage," I say.

  "I don't think so, baby." He rolls away, walks to the dresser and slides on a fresh pair of silky black briefs.

  Despite all the intimacies already shared, I’m embarrassed to see him naked in daylight. I turn and bury my face against a pillow.

  Returning to the bed, he sits at its edge and rests a hand on my hip.

  "I don't know if you're hiding from me or the truth about Rose."

  Wracked with my own uncertainties, I burrow my face deeper. Luke leans in, brushes his lips against my hair while his fingertips caress my exposed shoulder.

  "We don't have to talk about this yet," he says. "I have a plan to lure Ortiz to you. I need to finesse it. I can do that while you visit with Tommy. First, though, I'll bring some fresh clothes for you while you're in the shower."

  I peek out at him. He doesn't seem angry that I challenged him. His gaze remains kind. I can at least listen to his plan. And it's not his capabilities that I question, just his motivation.

  "Thank you," I say, the words roughened by how tight my throat feels.

  Luke shakes his head.

  "Thank me with a kiss. It says so much more than words."

  He throws me a playful wink, making me smile as I roll onto my back and push up. I draw the sheet with me. He pushes the fabric down and I realize he will not let me hide from him while we’re together. Then I realize something else—something shocking.

  I don't want to hide from Luke.

  I tilt my head back, offering him the kiss as his hand takes possession of my bare breast. His lips meet mine. His tongue wages a small battle, winning when I open my mouth to him. Another skirmish erupts as his fingers draw my nipple taut. Moaning in surrender, I place one hand against his shoulder, lightly gripping it in invitation for him to return to bed.

  "Don't tempt me, beautiful, or you won't see your baby brother until sometime next week."

  A rough, hot rumble, his voice and the threat of his fucking me straight through the rest of the week slick my thighs. When I moan in response, he puts one knee on the bed and forces me to look up at him.

  "You want that?" His eyes tell me he knows the answer, or at least part of it.

  "Yes..." I blink, stunned at how easy the truth leaves me. I blink again, knowing I shouldn't indulge or admit that desire, that I already have taken too much pleasure from this man who now controls my family's fate.

  "And no," I finish. "I mean…even if you did wake him in the middle of the night, I'm surprised Tommy hasn't scaled down the side of the building already."

  Luke laughs, the sound deep and comforting. "I had hospitality bring in three different game consoles and plenty of new and old titles. You'll be lucky if he looks up from the television."

  He kisses me one last time, short and sweet, then leaves me to my shower.

  For the last six years, I’ve dressed Rose and Tommy better than I dress myself. Especially Rose. She’s hardest to satisfy. So the clothes I find on the bed when I finish my shower stun me. I examine the black undergarments first, fresh color heating my cheeks. Both the front of the bra and the back of the panties are caged so that half of the area they are intended to cover is nothing more than widely spaced straps.

  For the bra, this means three straps across each breast from my shoulder down to a little above my nipples where the demi cup begins. For the panties, a small bow rests low down the center of my back. From it, three straps on each side curve on a downward diagonal across each cheek to join a two-inch swath of lace. Sheer black, the stockings end halfway up my thighs.

  I put the stockings, bra and panties on then spin a slow circle in front of the mirror. I shake my head, feeling like I must be looking at another woman and that the designer is a frigging genius.

  Returning to the bed, I put on the silk blouse and skirt in a dark merlot. Both are form fitting and ruched, the many delicate folds in the fabric camouflaging those in my body. Looking at the outfit, I can't entirely wrap my mind around the expensive fabric with its tailored cut in my size or that Luke has put some poor soul through the pain and effort of acquiring them.

  I’m equally stunned by the details that fill the basket of cosmetics next to the clothes. The colors match those I wore the first night Luke encountered me, but with brand names for which a single bottle of foundation costs more than a month of my utilities. Hell, the tube of frosted pink lipstick is a month of electricity.

  I take my time applying the make-up and arranging my hair. Even if it turns out to be dinner with just Tommy, I have a feeling I’ll see Masters again before the night ends. Plus, I hope the more polished I look when I see Tommy, the more faith he will have in my getting us out of this jam.

  Rule number 7—Fake it until you make it.

  Abusive con artist or not, my father imparted at least a few words of wisdom in the twenty years I knew him. He twisted them into tools to scam people, of course, but it didn't take me long to untwist them, especially once I escaped his control. Tommy was easy to retrain, too. He is, by nature, everything my dad isn't: kind, industrious, smart.

  Rose, on the other hand...

  I shake my head, try to rid myself of the creeping doubt Luke seems intent on instilling.

  I’ll have time to work on my sister after she’s safe. With our father in jail and my warrants gone—if Masters can really make that happen—we can finally settle into one place. I can get a better job.

  My attention returning to the mirror, I discover Luke standing a few feet behind me, his gaze on my reflection.

  "I hope that head shake has nothing to do with how you look." He steps closer and turns me until I face him. His hands around my hips, he draws me closer. "Because you look amazing."

  I start to shake my head again, stopping only after it’s too late to disguise the gesture. Masters presses against the underside of my chin until I look up at him.

  "You don't hav
e to believe me, just smile or say 'okay.' Eventually you’ll see it for yourself." Tilting his head down, he glosses his lips against my mouth then nudges his nose against mine. "And the next compliment you roll your eyes at, I'm spanking that lush ass of yours while we're both naked."

  "Okay." My cheeks burn at the threat. I’ve never been spanked—that would have been too mild a punishment by my father's standards. Yesterday—even this morning—the threat would have made me tense and anxious, fearful perhaps. Now I doubt I would protest if Luke spanked me. The mere idea of his hand on my bare bottom and the press of his erect cock against my hip rekindles the embers of my earlier arousal.

  I search his gaze, looking for any sign that I should be worried the experience would be less than pleasurable. After all, I know next to nothing about Luke. That you can't con a con offers no comfort because I’ve come to the realization that I no longer am one.

  It would be child's play for him to scam me. I want what he’s offering, am downright greedy for his smile and touch.

  Cupping my cheek, he kisses the edge of my mouth. "Baby, save the thinking for when you're at the table luring Ortiz in. Here, with me, I just want you to feel."

  To allow myself to feel, I have to allow myself to trust.

  I close my eyes, wanting like hell to trust Luke.

  Taking full possession of my head, he kisses me again. His tongue presses against the seal of my lips. When I don't yield, he tilts my head back until the strain on my neck gives him the small opening he needs. His tongue slips in, takes a slow slide across the edge of my front teeth then curls under my top lip to suck it into his mouth.

  Stopping, he waits until I open my eyes then drills into them with his sharp gaze. "I know what you're thinking."

  I lift a brow, my throat too tight to talk.

  He smiles, the line of his mouth almost sad. Then he repeats almost my exact thoughts.

  "To feel, you have to trust, and you're certain you can't trust me until you have had a chance to think through every possible angle."

  He brushes the hair from my face then strokes my cheek.

  "Baby, you're wrong on this one. You have to feel your way to trusting me. Can you do that?"

  I look away for a second. When I look back, I see too many things in his gaze to process: heat, desire, kindness, something that looks like affection or maybe even—

  Cutting the dangerous thought short with a nod, I give Luke half of the answer he wants.

  "I can try."

  16

  Marie

  Dinner with Tommy is a minefield. Luke, as cunning as I estimate him to be, didn't try to throw any facts about Rose at me. Instead, he left plenty of damning material with Tommy.

  I look through all of it. I want like hell to cry, but I don't, not even when Tommy looks at me and offers a sad shake of his head, the brown eyes that match my own too old for his young age.

  "Told Masters it wouldn't change your mind."

  Reaching across the table, I capture Tommy's hand.

  "You're going to be okay," I say. "No matter what happens. Masters promised me."

  He pulls his hand back and stares toward the big glass window that looks down on the rooftop pool of the casino next door.

  "It's not a cross you have to climb up on," he whispers. "Rose is a willing participant."

  Too cowardly to risk Tommy looking back at me, I cover my face and try to explain why I have to go.

  "Even if she's working with Solandro, she'll be dead before a year passes. I have to try to get her out. Then we're done. We'll go anywhere you want and start over fresh without her."

  My sweet baby brother has never asked me to leave Rose behind before, but we both know how much easier our life would have been if I had fled my father with just Tommy.

  I certainly thought about it before I ransacked the trailer we were living in and stole the car. But each choice had its own set of built-in mistakes and regrets. All I could do was try to minimize the losses.

  Lowering my hands, I grab a fork and pick at the food, praying that Tommy won't let me leave with this argument hanging between us.

  Before he can soften, my cellphone rings.

  Luke, absent throughout the meal, reappears at the first ring. Knowing the call is being recorded and traced by his team, I try to keep Solandro's man on longer. I ask to speak with Rose before he can really start talking. I misstate the instructions so he must take the time to read them to me again. He still hangs up before we can get a trace, telling me to get the details right or Rose is dead.

  Hearing the threat, I want to collapse in a panicky heap.

  "You're really going to do it?" Tommy asks as I put the cellphone down on the table.

  I nod, unable to offer him stronger assurances. Once, as much as I detested my role in my father's cons, I knew I was good at it. Now I don't know what I am other than twenty-six fucking years old, uneducated, forever scrambling from one paycheck to the next, lying to get jobs, and always too busy reacting to the latest crisis to get a better handle on anything. The list of how incompetent I truly am just goes on and on.

  And my opponent in all this? Solandro is a hardened criminal—worse than my father. He’s a psychopath who has a network of other psychopaths working for him.

  "You have two hours before you need to pick up the lenses," Luke says, his hand curling lightly against my forearm. "The two of you should finish your meal while I get things ready."

  Seeing something guarded in his expression, I study Luke for a moment. He doesn't hide his feelings, doesn't mask the tension lines lightly etching the sides of his mouth or eyes.

  The position of his hand on my arm is so much like that first night in the casino when he busted me. Only this time he lightly strokes his thumb against my elbow, the gesture feeling like a silent request for me to trust him.

  Ignoring a strong premonition that everything is about to go sideways, I nod. Luke leaves the room. Tommy stares at his plate. After a few more minutes, we drop the pretense of trying to eat and sit on the couch, our foreheads touching.

  When Luke returns, it’s clear he has no intention of trying to save Rose.

  I stand in front of Luke, our bodies touching as I glare up at him.

  "What do you mean I can't go?"

  We’re back in that underground room, the one with the couch and television that Nazarov deposited me in after I returned from Solandro's warehouse the first time.

  "Marie, you don't know the monster you're dealing with."

  With both hands on my shoulders, he tries to walk me to the couch to sit me down and reason with me. I shake free, plant my hands on my hips and continue glaring at him.

  "You or Solandro?" I hiss.

  "Ortiz's boss." Cheeks flushing an angry red, Luke closes his eyes. "The man is a sadist."

  "So I should just leave Rose with him?" Too furious to contain myself, I reach out and push at Luke's chest. "Just when did you decide you weren't letting me go?"

  "About the time you got the call," he says. "I needed them to be lazy masking their number. They weren't."

  Something that looks suspiciously like a lie flashes across his brown eyes. Before I can call him on it, he catches my hand and reels me closer.

  He tries to stroke my hair. My head dodges left and right.

  "I'll send a team into the meeting place. We'll get her out."

  Squirming, I try to break free from his hard embrace.

  "She hasn't been at any of the meeting places. They find out they're burned and Rose is dead—after they do..."

  I falter. I can't bear to think what Solandro has planned for Rose if I fail or he discovers that I have betrayed him.

  "You aren't leaving." He cups my face with both hands, his gaze intense and his mouth a firm line a whisper in length from mine. "I'll make Ortiz tell me where he stashed Rose."

  "No!" Twisting free, I reach for my cellphone. "You can't possibly know what will trigger her murder. It could be something as simple as a call from Sola
ndro that never comes or he purposefully uses the wrong password. I'm going!"

  "Baby, stop thinking of that train wreck of a sister and think about yourself and Tommy." Luke wrenches the phone away and shoves it into his jacket pocket. "If Ortiz figures out you burned him, he'll do those things to you."

  Getting my elbow between our bodies, I try to leverage away from his chest as I continue arguing. "I'll risk it."

  "I won't." Catching me by the hair, he knots his fingers in it then pushes me against the wall. "While we were waiting on the call, I found more things you left out, Marie. Things you don't want me to know about Rose. Like the pregnancy that ended in an emergency room because she overdosed on oxycontin. Or how about the girl she put in the hospital in high school? Care to tell me about that?"

  I close my eyes, but I can't block the truth. Luke's staff has been busy. In two days' time, they figured out Ortiz's boss, whose identity I didn't know, and tracked down our identities in at least two cities I never mentioned to him.

  Rule number 8—There are no fathers and sons at the table.

  No lovers or friends, either.

  I open my eyes and glare at Luke. "Girls like Rose die every day, is that it?"

  My tears turn the question into an accusation.

  He flinches but doesn't back down. "That's right, Marie. I won't risk your life for the chance to save hers. You already know she's in on it with Ortiz."

  "I know she's my sister. I know she wanted to work for Solandro, but neither of us can know if she’s still his accomplice or his victim."

  While I talk, I work my hand into Luke's pocket. When I finish, I pull my phone out and start dialing.

  He takes the phone away. Looking down, he sees the first two of the three numbers I intended to call.