“As fun as this is,” Kingsley sighed, leaning forward to pour more wine in his glass, “what about tomorrow, folks?”
“The plan was to push on through to Tangier, Lily has to get on the ferry there,” Marc explained, sipping at a beer.
“That’s good. Best to move on. How’re you going to handle the exchange?” he pressed.
“Marc won’t be there for that,” Lily filled in. “He’s going to get a ticket and get on the ferry before me. I’m going to call Ivanov, the guy who orchestrated all this, the night before and set it up. I should be able to show the diamonds and just get on. Then hand the diamonds off to Marc.”
“Who then just … comes back?” Kingsley finished.
“Yeah,” Lily and Marc said in unison.
“Right,” he sighed, then pulled a pack of fancy looking cigarettes out of the inside pocket of his jacket. A heaviness fell over the conversation.
“Well,” Lily stood up from her seat, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Kingsley, it really was a pleasure. Sorry I tried to break your knee cap and bite off your ear. Will I see you in the morning?”
“Darling, I wouldn’t dream of leaving without saying goodbye, and you can nibble on my ear anytime,” Kingsley offered, taking her hand and pulling her close. Lily laughed and Marc glared.
“I don’t know about that, we’ll see how tomorrow goes,” she joked, sliding her hand free of his.
“If it would help you decide, I could spend the night. I give a beautiful full body, deep tissue massage. You must be fully naked, of course, but it’s for medicinal purposes, only,” he assured her.
“That would get really awkward since I plan on being in that bed naked as well,” Marc piped up.
“That does put a damper on things.”
A couple more jokes and Lily finally made her escape. It was almost midnight, they were the only people left in the restaurant. She also still wanted to leave early in the morning. It was going to be a long drive, a full day and night, and she wanted to make sure they got to Tangier during the day time.
She walked along the sand, skirting the pool area on the way back to their room. Her mind was wandering. The day before, she’d been a pretend prostitute, helping Marc to steal a car. Now, it felt like she was on holiday with two gorgeous male friends, one of which she was sleeping with.
One of which felt like more than a friend.
“… we don’t have to be these people anymore …”
She wondered what he’d meant by that, if he’d been serious. Would he run away with her? They’d only known each other for a little over a month, and the past week had been a little extreme. Outside of Africa, what would it be like? Lily was wondering if she was truly built for a life of crime, and she got the feeling Marc wouldn’t be willing to wait around while she figured out the ropes.
Or would he?
When she got in the room, she stripped naked – after closing all the curtains – and climbed between the sheets. She stared at the ceiling for a while, trying to clear her mind. Trying to think of what it was she wanted in life, what she really wanted.
I don’t know anymore.
DAY FIVE
Lily had barely walked out of view when Kingsley spoke up.
“She’s bloody gorgeous. Cheers,” he commented, toasting his wine glass up.
“Yeah, she’s pretty sexy,” Marc agreed.
“How long have you two been together?” his friend asked, tapping a cigarette against the table before lighting it.
“I think it’s been five days. The day after the heist,” Marc explained, finishing off the last of his meal.
“No, I meant together,” Kingsley stressed, blowing a stream of smoke into the breeze. Marc shook his head.
“I don’t get what you mean. We were never together before then, we stayed at separate places, only saw each other at the safe house.”
“Either you’re avoiding answering me, or you’re incredibly stupid.”
Marc sighed.
“We slept together after the heist, the night before she left. I didn’t think anything of it, we’d been dancing around each other all month, we weren’t supposed to ever see each other again. You’ve seen her, I couldn’t walk away without a taste,” he answered honestly.
“Ah. So this whole time, you’ve -”
“No. I thought she set me up, I almost killed her. I wasn’t joking back in the room, that woman will fuck your world up. She looks like a pin up, fucks like a porn star, and fights like Tyson,” he described her. Kingsley laughed and rubbed the ear she’d chewed on.
“I certainly got that impression, and I won’t deny the rest. Yet you didn’t kill her,” he pointed out.
“No. She wouldn’t let me, and she really hadn’t known about the set up. And then we were in Mali, and she held her own in a gun fight, might have even saved me a time or two. I owe her. I told her I’d help her, so I am,” he finished.
“Doesn’t sound like the De Sant I know. You sure you’re only helping her because you ‘owe her’?” Kingsley checked.
“Why else would I be?”
“Seems very obvious to me that you like the girl.”
“I like the girl plenty, most of all when she’s naked.”
“I don’t think that’s it.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Look, why are you even doing this, anyway? Why not just sell the diamonds and make a run for it?” Kingsley asked.
“Tried that angle. Told her we could split them, we could sell them together. She’s got her own agenda that she won’t let go of, she’s gotta get to Moscow,” Marc answered.
“What’s in Moscow?”
“Big boss Stankovski. She’s got some plan to put a bullet between his eyes.”
“Oh my. She is a wildcat.”
“You have no idea.”
“So why aren’t you going with her?”
“Why in the fuck would I go with her!?”
“Stankovski will kill her. She’s good, but she’s raw, Marc. Her temper is going to be the death of her. She needs your help,” Kingsley stressed. Marc glared.
“She’s done pretty goddamn fine all on her own. She got to Africa, didn’t she?”
“Not the same.”
“No one held our hands, when you and I were making names for ourselves.”
“Not the same. She’s not trying to make a name. She’s trying to find closure, and she thinks it’ll come from a gun,” Kingsley stressed.
“I’ve explained all this to her. She’s got a thick head, and that’s not my problem. I get her to Tangier, I get her on that ferry. That was the deal. She wasn’t interested in any other plans, and frankly, neither am I,” Marc stated.
“That’s a bloody lie if I ever heard one,” Kingsley called him out. Marc scowled.
“What would you suggest I do, Law? Mr. Ladies Man? Throw her over my shoulder and walk off into the sunset?” he was snide.
“Yes. You like her. She clearly likes you, though for the life of me I can’t figure out why, especially now that she’s met me,” his friend smiled at him.
“Shut up.”
“The chemistry between you is so thick, I’m surprised the table didn’t catch on fire. Would it be so bad to hang up your guns and retire? From what I was told, those diamonds would fetch a pretty price,” Kingsley pointed out.
“Retire from a job that I love, a life that I love, for a woman I just met, that I can barely stand, that has tried to kill me several times, all because I like how she fucks?” Mark double checked the stupidity of Kingsley’s statement.
“If that helps you sleep at night, then keep telling yourself all of that. We’ll see how you feel when you’re waving goodbye to that ferry, watching that red hair get farther and farther away,” Kingsley sighed.
“Since when do you pop up out of nowhere and dole out relationship advice? How the fuck did you find us, anyway?” Marc demanded.
“You seem to forget, I know you. Recognize your touch,” Kingsley t
eased.
“Answer the question.”
“Reports were coming out of Nouakchott. Someone had stolen a car that belonged to the cousin of an attaché of the French ambassador. A spectacular incident, apparently the thief was a prostitute operating with a surly pimp, luring the man away from the hotel. There was a car chase and allegedly tires were shot out causing a huge crash. Lots of damage. The moment I heard the word ‘surly’, I knew it could only be one person causing all that trouble,” he laughed.
“Fuck off. How’d you know we’d be in Dakhla?”
“I’ve been following you since Guerguerat, mate. Just inside the border. I was actually heading down towards Nouakchott and we passed each other. Can you believe it? Lily was driving. I turned around, and when you stopped to steal some gas, I planted a tracker on your bumper,” he explained.
“Damn. I’m getting lax in my old age,” Marc chuckled, though he didn’t feel like laughing.
“I’d say it’s more like you were distracted,” Kingsley suggested.
“Shut up.”
“Understandably so.”
“So even more reason why it has to be goodbye in Tangier.”
“Or you could get better at your job.”
“I am good at my job, that’s why I have to leave her.”
“We’re talking in circles,” Kingsley sighed. “Fine. Say goodbye. But I think you’re passing up a golden opportunity to train someone who could become like your right hand. And if you’re not willing to take advantage of that, than I am.”
“No, you’re not,” Marc informed him.
“I’m not?”
“If you ever make a move on her, now or in the future, I’ll shove your head so far up your ass, you’ll be able to lick your own stomach lining,” Marc threatened.
“Oh, I see how it is – you don’t want her, but no one else can have her. Selfish, De Sant,” Kingsley scolded him.
“I can live with that.”
“You’re impossible.”
The other man abruptly stood up.
“Where are you going?” Marc asked, a little startled.
“I have an aversion to spending time with stupid people, and you’re being very stupid. So good night, and I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe you’ll have come to your senses by then,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette.
“Fuck you.”
Kingsley was already walking away, waving goodbye without looking.
Marc paid their bill and finally headed back to their room. Lily had only had about a thirty minute lead on him, but when he got to the room, she was already out cold. She tended to stretch out on her stomach, as he now knew, her arms spread out to her sides. He’d woken up earlier with a hand in his face.
While she slept, he sat in a chair and pulled up a night table, systematically going through their weapons. He cast aside the guns that no longer had any ammo. Then he began breaking down the remaining ones, cleaning them.
It was unnecessary; they hadn’t used the guns since Mauritania, when Lily had shot out the tire. If things kept going the way they were, they wouldn’t need them at all anymore. Just her precious Glock. But cleaning them helped clear his mind. Helped him think. Helped him pretend like he wasn’t thinking about her.
He glanced at her while he worked. Her head was facing him, some strands of hair laying across her face. She pouted her lips in her sleep, almost like she was about to blow him a kiss. He smiled to himself.
What have I gotten myself into?
Kingsley was completely right. Marc did like Lily. A lot. He thought they were a hell of a team, and it didn’t hurt that he liked the way she looked, liked the way she talked. Liked everything about her.
But what could he offer her? A life that was roughly the same as the last five days. Small moments of calm with random outbursts of violence. She’d already mentioned several times that she couldn’t wait to get out of Africa, couldn’t wait to get out of the life she’d been living for the last five years. How could he ask her to stay in it?
And tough as she was, there was a tender girl under that hard facade. A million self defense classes couldn’t hide that fact from him. She could threaten and kick and fight, but when she’d actually pulled the trigger, actually killed someone, it had wrecked her. Disgusted her.
Marc had no problem pulling the trigger. How could she be with someone like him? And if she did stay with him, it wouldn’t be long before he changed that part of her. Made her as cold and cynical as himself. Ruined that part of her.
He moved to sit on the bed next to her. The sheet had fallen down to her waist, exposing her bare back. He lightly touched his fingertips to her skin, drawing them down to the edge of the blanket. Then he moved them back up to her shoulders and repeated the motion. He loved her skin, it felt like the softest satin he’d ever touched. The finest silk.
Much too rich for me. I could never afford this.
“Marcelle,” she mumbled in her sleep. He smiled at the use of his full name, and wondered what she was dreaming about.
“Liliana,” he returned the favor. “In spite of everything, it’s been a fun ride.”
She shuddered and scooted closer to him, tucking her arms under her chest. As she moved, he saw a large bruise on the side of her rib cage, and he frowned. His eyes moved to another bruise. Then another. Red marks around her throat.
In Monrovia, the first time they’d slept together, there had been no marks on her body. Just smooth expanses of milky white skin that blushed red in the wake of his fingertips. Now, she was riddled with bruises. She’d been banged up, and while it didn’t detract from her looks at all, it compounded his guilt. She wouldn’t have them, if it weren’t for him. If he’d just left Africa, like she’d suggested. He’d gotten away from the gang in Monrovia, saving his reputation hadn’t really been necessary. If he’d just fled the continent, she would’ve already made it to Tangier. She would’ve gotten to Barcelona. She would’ve already accomplished her goal.
She’d probably be dead.
“Your plan is a bad one, but staying with me? That’s worse,” he sighed, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
I’ve been doing wrong for so many years. How do I know what’s right?
DAY SIX
Lily woke up with the sunrise, relishing in the feel of not having to bolt the moment she opened her eyes. She laid in one spot for a while, watching the beach through the glass door. When it was fully light out, she turned on her side, wondering if Marc was awake. He was a light sleeper, he always seemed to be awake before her. She hoped he was, it would be their last time alone for a while. Last time to play with each other without any threats looming over them, or fears of being attacked.
But when she rolled over, Marc was on the extreme opposite side of the king sized bed. He was fully clothed, on top of the covers, with his back to her. If that wasn’t body language that screamed “don’t fucking touch me”, then Lily didn’t know what was. She decided to heed it, and she slipped out of bed. She pulled the black bikini back on, slipped on her shirt, then headed out onto the patio.
“Morning, darling.”
Lily looked to her right. Kingsley was sitting in one of their chairs, reading a Spanish newspaper. He was wearing a pair of silk pajama pants and no shirt, showing a lean torso that was outlined in tone muscles. He also had a pair of old fashioned sunglasses perched on his nose, and he glanced over them when she sat across from him.
“Good morning,” she yawned, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pitcher he had sitting on the table.
“And where’s Mr. De Sant?”
“Inside, sleeping.”
“Lazy.”
She laughed.
“Not a word I ever would’ve used to describe him. Though he didn’t even bother changing out of the clothes he wore yesterday,” she commented.
“Really. Interesting,” was all Kingsley said.
“So how long have you and Marc known each other?” she questioned. She knew
Marc wouldn’t allow her to ask questions, but Kingsley seemed more open. The other man smiled and folded up his newspaper.
“Ah, how long, how long. Feels like forever! We met in New York, maybe … six years ago? Seven? He was young. I had been hired to assassinate a diplomat from Uzbekistan. I had it all set up, long range shot from a building, to be made while the mark was jogging. I was all set to pull the trigger when this tiny puppy dog of a man ran into the shot. Some jogger, in sweats and a beat up hoodie, ran smack into my target, almost knocking him down.
“I thought it was just some clumsy idiot, barreling through the park. But when he ran off, my target was on the ground. Turned out the bastard had cut the man’s brachial artery clean in half – that’s the major blood vessel in the upper arm. He died in about four minutes. It didn’t have any sense of style, and he could’ve been caught, but it was simple. It got the job done, and it was quick. I was impressed. I went back to the people who I took the job from, managed to find out who had claimed the bounty. Tracked Marc down to an abandoned building in Queens. We’ve been friends ever since,” Kingsley finished the story.
Lily wasn’t sure how to feel about it. She’d seen Marc kill people, but it had always been in self defense. She’d never seen him do it for profit, or for sport. Knowing he’d done it before, and hearing a detailed description of it actually happening, were two very different things. She leaned back in her chair.
“Do you guys work together, like partners?” she asked, staring out at the ocean.
“Sometimes. We have our strengths, we help each other out when we can. Marc isn’t as good at stealth as I am, and no one can crack a safe as quickly as me. But he’s got a sort of brutish way about him that can come in handy, and his knowledge of weapons and human anatomy have saved me a time or two. That man could’ve been a surgeon,” he told her.
“Oh god. I can already picture his bedside manner.”
“Seems to me you’ve already experienced his bedside manner.”
She finally looked at him again.
“You mention that quite a bit,” she pointed out. “Does it bother you?”
Best Laid Plans Page 19