Stealing My Heart

by Stephani Hecht, Jambrea Jo Jones, A. J. Llewellyn, Carol Lynne, D. J. Manly, Jaime Samms, Serena Yates

  Leibow’s eyes glittered and he studied Marky. “Seems to me you can tell me, or take your chances with him.”

  Marky nodded and stammered out the highlights of his evening around his flaring libido. His attention kept wandering to the glimpse of skin at Leibow’s collar, and the tiny white line marring otherwise smooth skin.

  “You missed the part about how you pissed them off in the first place,” Leibow said, when he’d reached the halting, unpleasant end of his tale. “Why’d they kill your friend? Why kill one of their own?”

  “We wanted out. I didn’t think they knew. I thought I was careful enough.”

  “Did you not read the fine print? You don’t leave.”

  “I thought…they’d never know. Not till we were long gone.” Marky closed his eyes. The image of Gig’s body limp on the pavement, of the street light glinting from the dark pool around him, cooled every other thought. Even this handsome man’s body heat, so close he could feel it, wasn’t enough to distract him from that failure.

  “So this last job.” Leibow’s voice mellowed. “You stole Joe Picone’s car and identity, and came here. To do what?”

  “Escape,” Marky breathed.

  Leibow sighed. “Escape.” He brushed a bit of nothing from Marky’s shoulder, and his hand lingered. “Where did you think you and your boyfriend were going to go? Did you think there was a place in this city they wouldn’t find you?”

  “He wasn’t my boyfriend.” Not anymore. “I don’t know what he was going to do after. I wasn’t planning on staying. We should have left yesterday, but there was this job. He said we had to do it, had to distract them with this one last, great car. Said it would be a parting gift, so they’d let us go. He knew where it was, when to nab it…” Marky’s fingers tightened into balls of tension. His own voice dropped, dulled. “He knew every little thing. He set me up.”

  Leibow squeezed his shoulder. “And they killed him for that betrayal. They used him to get to you, and they killed him.”

  “I don’t… Why would he?” Once more, his gut tightened, this time, anger tying the knots.

  Leibow tilted his head. “How should I know? He was your lover.”

  “He—” Marky brushed off the hand and Leibow’s brows drew together. Sinking, huddling down against the wall, Marky wrapped his arms around his churning stomach. “He just wanted to stay,” He whispered. “I thought we wanted more, but he wanted that life. He just… Fuck.” He dropped his head, fingers gripping his short spiked hair. “Fuck!”

  “All this changes is that he brought his own death on himself,” Leibow pointed out. “Not your fault.” He crouched, and his firm grip was back on Marky’s shoulder. “They’re still hunting you. What are you going to do about that?”

  “I don’t know.” Marky chewed on his lip, stared at the brown Berber between his boots. Standing risked upsetting his guts enough to spill all over the carpet.

  Leibow sighed again, stood, and after a bit of shuffling and clicking, the smell of cigarette smoke drifted down and Leibow retreated to his desk to lean on it. “While ‘I don’t know’ is a possible response, it isn’t the best one. The seat of your pants approach hasn’t really worked very well for you so far.”

  Marky lifted his head slightly, plucking at his wilting spikes.

  “Tell you what.” Leibow sauntered back. Marky watched his leather shoes pad across the carpet to stop inches from his own boots. He couldn’t make himself look up. “You’ve had a long, difficult day. I’ll give you this one for free. Get up.”

  Finally, Marky met his eye. “This one what?” His heart tripped at the intensity of Leibow’s gaze.

  “I’ll think for you. Come on.” He held out a hand. “Get you someplace safe, you can clean up, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

  Marky reached up and took his hand. Heat rushed through him, but he didn’t attempt to stand. “Why?”

  “Because a guy should only get kicked in the gut so many times in one day, and one of those times happened on my watch. Jason should never have treated you like that, and someone here should have prevented it. Now get your ass in gear.”

  Marky leveraged himself to his feet and for a moment, with cigarette smoke swirling around them and the din of the bar pounding up through the souls of his feet, it was easy to imagine nothing else existed but the hand in his and the man in front of him. His breath came at last in a little gasp that only teased his lungs and propelled his heart into overdrive.

  “Yeah.” Leibow huffed out a strange little sound. “I see why Power found it so hard to keep his hands to himself.” He stepped away, took his hand back, and sucked on the cigarette. “Let’s go.” The heat of his hand on Marky’s back burned its way right through leather and cotton to get to skin, as it propelled him to the door. The sensation raced up his spine and spread over his cheeks. His body responded, resisting the little push, leaning back into the touch. It had nothing to do with his head, and he was fairly certain he hadn’t imagined Leibow’s hitched breath as Marky finally got his feet to obey his will and move him forward.

  * * * *

  They hurried him down and out a narrow door at the foot of the office stairs, through the DJ booth, which got him a speculative look from the DJ, and out another door into a private parking garage behind the building. There, Leibow shuffled him into one of the nicest cars he’d ever seen, disappointingly from the passenger seat, and whisked him away through the dwindling lights of the downtown core.

  Leibow didn’t speak as they left the nightlife and the rainbow garlands of flags behind to glide through the quieter streets of an expensive neighbourhood. As the dark expanses between houses grew, Marky squirmed. “Where are we?”

  “Where Greenbacks don’t go.” Leibow looked over at him. “Don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe.” Which didn’t explain the glint in his eye every time he glanced over, or the cold sweat trickling down under Marky’s waistband.

  “Look, Mr. Leibow—”

  “Rolly.”

  “Rolly. I appreciate everything you’ve done. You can just let me out—”

  “Here?” He snorted. “You’ll be arrested within the hour, back downtown, and if they even let you go, your Greenback buddies will be five ways putting you in a dumpster before you can turn around and get your ass back to the neighbourhood.”

  Marky let out a rough laugh. “That what they’re calling Pride Alley these days?”

  Rolly clucked his tongue. “Mock if you want. Then make me believe you don’t want a bit of that security. You know what they say about safety in numbers. You could fit in there. Where people will actually protect you because they like you, not because you can hotwire a fancy ride.” He glanced in the rear view mirror, made a lane change, and shot Marky a quick look. “I’m not after trying to tell you how to live your life. You were already looking for a way out. I’m just saying.”

  “You’re suggesting I bring my shit into your neighbourhood. Into Peter’s deli, into this Dean guy’s shelter?” He snorted and turned away to stare out into the dark. “That isn’t how things work where I come from.”

  “No. Where you come from, lovers turn on each other like rabid dogs. That’s better.” Rolly had pulled off the road and the car purred up a long, canted drive, crunching over tracks of glowing white gravel as it neared the house. He hammered it into park and twisted in his seat to face Marky. “I’m not forcing anything on you. Just…” he shook his head. “Make up your own mind.” He exited the car in a flurry of long blond waves and disapproval. The door slammed, and by the time Marky was out too, he was hunched over a new cigarette, protecting the small flame of his lighter with his cupped hand and the curve of his shoulder.

  “Look,” Marky leant on the roof of the car. “I’m just trying to be practical here.”

  “You’re assuming,” Rolly muttered, flicking his lighter again as the wind blew the flame away. Finally, he got the thing lit and turned to Marky. “No one has ever had it as rough as you. No one can possibly under
stand. Bullshit.” He shook his head and turned towards the house. “Whatever. Get the fuck off my car.”

  Marky glared at his back, but he did shuffle away from the car. “Hey.”

  Rolly slowed, but didn’t stop.

  “Lei—Mr. Leibow.”

  Rolly stopped, drew on his cigarette.

  “I…” Marky shoved his hands into his pockets and ground the toe of his boots against the white stones of the drive. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  “No shit.” Rolly’s shoulders rose and fell. “You going to tell me your real name?”

  “Marky.”

  “Come on, then, Marky. Shower. Sleep. Things’ll look better in the morning.”

  “Right.” Marky kept the scepticism quiet, though, and hustled to catch up.

  * * * *

  Well lit and spacious, walls painted cheerful colours, and the floor a massive heat sink of stone, the inside of Leibow’s home wasn’t at all what he expected. The furniture was simple, wood and leather and comfortable-looking. Marky had expected something more flashy, less…homey.

  Rolly opened the front hall closet and hung up his coat. Like any normal, rational, and not horrifically wealthy person might, he turned to Marky, empty hanger in his hand, and waited. Marky pulled his security leather closer around himself. Rolly shrugged.

  “Suit yourself.” He put the hanger away and closed the door again. “I have a few calls to make. Upstairs and to your right, at the end of the hall. You should find everything you need in the bathroom.”

  “And then what?”

  Rolly watched him for a minute, speculating, stretching the silence into the space bordering Marky’s fear. “And then I’ll be up.”

  “Oh.” Marky took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  Rolly was already walking away, cell phone at his ear, and clear voice calling down the hall for someone named Hal. Marky cold have walked out the door. There was no one to stop him leaving. There was no one for him to go to if he did. He headed up the stairs. Below, he caught Rolly watching him, phone in mid air, call going ignored, and his gaze… He didn’t look away when Marky noticed his interest, and once again, Marky’s heart hammered against his ribs. He smiled a tight smile and dashed up the remaining steps, out of sight.

  In the bathroom doorway, he stopped, panting hard from unexpected tension. It took him long moments to focus on his surroundings. Like the rest of the house, the bathroom decor was simple, functional and attractive, and upon closer inspection, expensive.

  “Who says money breeds poor taste?” he asked the potted plants. He debated filling the tub, but the last thing he wanted, given the way Rolly had looked at him just now, was for his benefactor to walk in on him wearing nothing but a mound of bubbles.

  He turned to the shower, stripped and stepped under the hot, soothing spray. The echoing drum of water on the shower wall cocooned him for a few minutes from the outside, and all he had were his own tangled feelings of failure and probably misplaced desire. The thought of Rolly’s hot gaze on him sent sizzling reaction racing up his spine, and his fists clenched. He had to force himself to picture Gig’s body, remind himself why he was here, how badly he’d screwed up, and for a moment, it worked. The heat turned to chill, and a fit of uncontrolled shaking left him leaning hard on the wall. He might have huddled there a lot longer if someone hadn’t knocked on the door. A distinctly female voice called through to let him know she’d be taking his clothes to clean. He scrambled to turn the water off and find a towel.

  “No! Wait!” But by the time he emerged, the woman was gone, and so were his clothes. Even his jacket. Another discreet knock, and he hardly had the towel secured around his waist before Rolly slipped inside.

  “It’s settled.” He leant against the vanity, long legs relaxed, ankles crossed. His gaze travelled up from Marky’s feet to linger over his damp chest before finally making it to his face. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, though his voice remained steady. “Dean has a room for you, and Peter a job, though the room won’t be free for a couple of days and Peter can’t pay you right now. He’ll feed you, though, and if you do some yard work for Dean, and a bit of cleaning, he’s willing to wave rent for a while.”

  “Uh.” Marky clutched at the twist of his towel, shifted his weight from one slippery foot to the other. The water dribbling and tickling down his legs accentuated how little covered him. Leibow’s avid gaze didn’t disguise the man’s interest in what was under the covering, either, and heat rose up Marky’s neck. Living arrangements were the last thing on his mind right that second. Rolly’s gaze drifted down again, and Marky ran a self-conscious hand over his chest. His fingers brushed the scar over his ribs, making it tingle.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “I—” Marky looked down at the long, pale line marring his skin. “Knife. Bad decision. I don’t…really want to…”

  Rolly nodded. “I have a few reminders of bad decisions myself.” He stood and a few steps brought him close enough Marky could make out one of those reminders just peeking up from his shirt, hugging the curve of his collar bone.

  Marky almost reached to touch it, but resisted. The aborted gesture didn’t slip past Rolly’s notice, because he smiled, touched Marky’s elbow with his fingers. “Go ahead.”

  “Is this your price?” Marky’s voice caught roughly on the uncertainty clogging his throat. “A hot shower and clean clothes for a few personal privileges? What do I have to do to get a meal?” He licked his lips suggestively, but a lump of unpleasant emotions sat like lead in the pit of his stomach.

  “Asking nicely and saying please usually works,” Rolly snapped. But he didn’t back off. His fingers drifted from Marky’s elbow, up his arm, along his collar bone to rest lightly under his chin. Marky shivered at the trickle of goose bumps that followed. “Can I help it if I react predictably typically when faced with a half naked, very attractive man dripping on my bathroom floor?”

  “You just walked in,” Marky breathed, his head lifting at the ever-so-slight pressure of Rolly’s fingers under his chin.

  “I knocked.” Rolly leant close. “Kick me out.”

  “Can’t.” Marky gasped away a bit of Rolly’s breath as the blond’s lips closed over his, his tongue slipping into Marky’s half open, obviously not protesting mouth. The slick heat was grounded in the same gentle persuasion that pulled Marky a little closer, tipped his head back a little more, drew him irrevocably into Rolly’s space and held him there. His own fingers cemented the connection by tightening into fists in the front of Rolly’s shirt. In the steamy aftermath of his shower, he barely noticed his towel slip away. It was Rolly’s hand caressing the curve of his ass that brought him abruptly out of the spell.

  “Hey!” He drew away, but Rolly still had a hand cupping his face, and one curled around his butt.

  He looked down at Marky and smiled. “Stop?”

  Marky shook, an all over body shudder at the realisation he was completely naked in front of this powerful man, in his home, and essentially helpless.

  “Just say the word, Marky.”

  “What word?”

  Rolly smiled. “Piccadilly, jabberwocky. Pick one.”

  “A safe word?” Rather than helping him feel safer, the idea he might need one made him sweat. He swallowed hard.

  Rolly took a deep breath and stepped back, releasing him. “I’ll have someone bring you something to wear. Hal’s made sandwiches. Kitchen’s at the bottom of the stairs. Turn right and you’re there.” He gripped the door handle, white knuckles showing his tension, but Marky put a hand on his forearm.

  “Wait.” His voice shook, and maybe his hand did a little, too, but something about the man’s willingness to walk away made him brave. “Kensington.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s a word, isn’t it?”

  Rolly turned back to study him. “This isn’t something you just do because you feel you have to.”

  “I know. You aren’t making me.” Marky mo
ved forward this time, leaving the towel to soak up the water he’d dripped. “My decision.”

  “A complete stranger?” Rolly raised the eyebrow again, and Marky gave in to the urge to run a finger along the tawny strip of arched hairs.

  “What? You think stealing cars is the only thing I’ve ever done for a few bucks? Being hungry motivates a person to do things he might not normally do.”

  “I’m not going to pay you for sleeping with me. I’ll feed you anyway.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  “Then what are you after?”

  “Nothing.” Marky moved again, invading Rolly’s personal space. “I’ve had a rough day. Maybe I just want a little something less traumatic to finish it off.” It was as good a reason he could come up with to explain his undeniable attraction.

  “You didn’t want what Jason Power offered.”

  “Yeah.” Marky backed off. “I didn’t want him forcing himself on me.” He held up his arm to show off the finger-sized bruises already clearly visible against pale skin. “Still don’t want that shit.”

  Rolly nodded. “Kensington. It’ll work.” He leant close and kissed Marky, brief, first on the lips, then on both eyelids. “Keep them closed.”

  Marky nodded, heart skipping in anticipation.

  Rolly pressed his lips against Marky’s ear next. “Wait here.”

  Again, Marky nodded his breath too short to actually manage a vocal answer. He listened to Rolly’s footsteps dwindle down the hallway, heard the distant sound of a drawer opening, and then, for a moment, nothing. He was just about to investigate when Rolly was there, touching his arm, his presence curling around Marky like the last of the heavy, humid bathroom air.

  “Turn around, Marky.”

  “Can I open my eyes yet?”

  “Not yet.” Rolly guided Marky in a slow spin until he had his back to the taller man. Strong fingers lifted one wrist once Marky had stopped shuffling, and curled something around it. The faint jangle of metal and a bit of tugging gave Marky enough information to know he’d just been cuffed. He ran his fingers over the band of leather, soft, supple and studded with three thick, cool metal rings. He shifted weight from one foot to the other.