Deal with the Devil

by Stacia Stone

  “Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” Mara rolls her eyes, but there’s no rancor in her expression. “You’re such a charmer. I still can’t believe your last wife left you.”

  I grin. “She couldn’t handle all the romance.”

  “I bet.”

  Talking about my cunt of an ex-wife reminds of something. “I talked to Willy yesterday. He drew up some annulment papers for us. We can sign them as soon as you’re ready to go back.”

  “You told him about us getting married?”

  “Nah. He thinks I want it for a job. Don’t ask me how I got him to buy that, because I’m not even sure myself. He probably thinks I got drunk and married some broad in Vegas. We just need to fill our names in.”

  Her gaze slides over me, eyes full of seductive heat. “I thought you couldn’t get an annulment if you’re marriage has been consummated.”

  “Well that’s between us, isn’t it? Unless you’ve got an exhibitionist streak that you need to tell me all about right now.”

  She laughs. “No. I just want to make sure there're no problems.”

  Maybe she wants all of this to be over with as much as I do. This shit has probably been just as much a pain in the ass for her as it has for me. She probably can’t wait to get back to her real life and pretend that none of this ever happened.

  I don’t why that thought bothers me so much.

  We pull through the gate of the house to be confronted with an overgrown yard that’s even more trashed than the last time I saw it. One of the couches from the living room has been dragged out onto the front walk. It’s clearly spent several days exposed to the elements and is ruined beyond repair. Beer cans are scattered around like white trash confetti and the grass will definitely need to be reseeded to get rid of all the skid marks from motorcycle wheels.

  “Jesus,” Mara exclaims. I can’t tell from her voice if she’s more sad or angry. “What the actual fuck?”

  More angry, then. “You could always hire someone to come in and clean up.”

  “I’m probably not going to have a choice.” She starts pushing open the door before the car has completely stopped rolling. I have to slam on the brakes before she leaps out. “I need to see how bad it is.”

  Pretty fucking bad. The front door hangs a little off of its hinges. She rushes toward it with angry strides. I have to hurry to catch up with her. The inside of the house is as bad as I imagined. It’s obviously been looted a couple times. I just hope nobody got at the pipes or the wiring.

  Mara stands in the entryway. She turns in a slow circle as she surveys the damage. “How could they let this happen to his house?”

  She’s obviously talking about Cecile and Mack. If I thought that it wouldn’t just make things more difficult for Mara, I’d just clip them both. The world would definitely be a better place without either of those two assholes in it.

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  I follow her into the kitchen which is filthy with old food containers and miscellaneous trash. Someone obviously crashed on the floor at some point. A mound of stained blankets is piled up in the breakfast nook where the dining table used to be.

  “Maybe I should just try to sell it as-is, let someone else deal with this.”

  “If you want.” I keep my voice neutral. It’s impossible to tell what’s going through her head. I never had a childhood home. But I can imagine watching yours get turned into a steaming pile of shit would be a hard thing to go through. “Even if you want to sell, it might make more sense to have the worst of it cleaned up first. Squatters are going to start showing up soon, otherwise. You don’t want the place to get condemned.”

  “Yeah.” I hear the little break in her voice that says she’s feeling some strong emotion and is trying to hide it. “Why do I have to be the one dealing with this? Why is it always me?”

  Part of me wants to comfort her, but I’m not sure letting her throw herself a pity party is the best idea. That core of steel that I saw in her from the very beginning is the best defense against a world that’s usually harsh and cruel.

  I shrug. “Life’s a bitch, sometimes. There’s no avoiding that. You do what you got to do. No sense whining about it.”

  She glares at me. “You’re just all heart, you know that.”

  I’m deliberately redirecting her sadness into anger. It’s better if she’s mad at me than worrying about all this shit. I know from personal experience that anger is one of the most motivating emotions that there is. The passion will keep her moving forward.

  That’s better than drowning in the sadness.

  I grab her hand and press it to the bulge at my crotch. Like always, it hardens at even her lightest touch. “Not all heart.”

  Mara tries to pull her hand away but I don’t let her. “Stop it, Leo.”

  “Stop what?”

  “We’re not going to fuck in this nasty kitchen.”

  I didn’t actually have that in mind but her imperious tone rubs me the wrong way. Deliberately, I move my body up against hers until I’m completely invading her personal space.

  “You trying to tell me what I can do with your body?”

  She swallows hard enough that her throat jumps with the movement. “No…sir.”

  And just like that, the dormant thread of desire that always connects us is reawakened. There’s never been another woman on Earth that could get me going like this. I have a momentary flash of sympathy for Cecile, who’d give up pretty much anything for her next fix. Mara is like my drug and I can’t get enough.

  I pull Mara toward me until our bodies meet in an unbroken line. We fit together better than the pieces of a puzzle. It’s like she was made for me.

  She tilts her head back to stare up at me, obediently waiting for whatever it is that I decide to do to her.

  I can do anything to her, I realize, and she’ll let me. It’s the most arousing thing that I can possibly imagine.

  She’s all mine. That fact fills me with satisfaction, lust, and a fear so startling that I can barely acknowledge that it exists.

  I’m about to devour her mouth in a kiss when a sudden feeling of unease moves up the back of my neck. Maybe it’s all the years I spent taking the most dangerous jobs or embracing violence like I would a lover, but I have a sixth sense for danger. It’s the only thing that’s kept me alive for this long.

  The world seems to go silent for a moment, like whatever force of nature created us is holding its breath in anticipation. I hear the sudden gun of an engine that’s completely out of place in this normally sedate, upper- middle-class neighborhood.

  “Get down,” I yell at Mara. Not waiting for the reaction that I know will be too slow, I grab her around the waist and dive for the floor. We land hard on the tile. I feel the shock of it run through her body.

  Glass rains down on us as the windows shatter from a hail of gunfire. Mara’s body jerks with each shot and I stare down into her wild, frightened eyes. My body completely covers her. I know if I haven’t been hit then she couldn’t have been either, but it’s still might be the most terrifying moment of my entire life.

  Bullets continue to pour through the open windows, hitting high the wall directly behind us. I’ve been in too many life-threatening situations to count, a couple where I was convinced that my day had finally come. But I’d never felt fear like this before.

  But I’m not scared for me. I’m scared for Mara. If I get taken out, who’s gonna protect her?

  Dishes explode on the counter, sending razor-sharp shards flying into the air around us. I tuck Mara in closer to my body, trying to shield her as much as I can. She seems frozen underneath me. Only the frantic beating of her heart letting me know that she’s still drawing breath.

  I wait for a break in the gunfire and jump to my feet. The Glock is just in my hand as if it’s appeared there by magic. I return fire through the shattered window but I can already see the handful of motorcycles peeling out of the yard and out down the driveway toward the gate. If hit any of them, it’l
l be purely by luck.

  Mara stays huddled on the floor, even after several moments of silence have passed.

  “Mara!”

  She doesn’t respond. She’s not crying or freaking out, but just lays on the floor and stares up at the ceiling with eyes that have gone wide and unfocused. Her skin is paler than I’ve ever seen it.

  The sound of sirens comes from far away. Judging from experience, we have less than five minutes to get out of there before the cops show us. This is the kind of neighborhood where the police actually show up when they’re called.

  “Mara, c’mon!”

  I lever her unresisting body up with one hand against her waist. The other keeps a tight grip on the gun, just in case. I’m sick with the knowledge that if someone comes for us right now, we’re no better than sitting ducks.

  She stumbles at my side toward the door. I consider slapping her like they do in the movies but I’d probably just be hurting her for no reason. Mara is stuck somewhere deep inside of herself. I hope it’s a nice place where there're no bikers with guns because she’s going to have to come back to this reality sooner or later.

  We stagger outside together and make a beeline toward the car, probably looking like some twisted version of a three-legged race. I make a visual inspection of the car and notice with relief that it appears relatively unscathed. The bikers were trying to scare us. If they wanted us dead, we probably would be.

  There’s no time for gentleness as I shove her into the passenger seat. She’s gone so limp that I waste precious seconds feeling for the pulse in her neck and checking her body for any obvious injury. She’s not hurt, I note with a sense of relief so keen it’s nearly painful, just in shock.

  The sirens are louder now. I race around the car and climb into the driver’s seat. I start the car and the engine comes to life with a satisfying roar. I can’t think about anything else but getting her out of there.

  Sick realization creeps over me as I punch the accelerator and peel out of the driveway. I care about what happens to this girl, more than I ever cared about anything. The thought of her dead or hurt feels me with a dread so thick that I can barely breathe past it.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  Chapter Twelve

  Mara

  I can feel him watching me. It’s like a weight pressing down on my back as I sit on the floor of the living room in front of the television. Whenever I glance back at him, his gaze is trained on the screen, pretending like he’s watching. But I know as soon as I turn away, he goes back to looking at me. I can just feel it.

  He’s sprawled out behind me on the couch. It’s like being in the same room as a hibernating bear — one small sound or wrong move and it’s all over.

  Not that I have anywhere to go, but he hasn’t let me leave the apartment since the drive-by at Papa’s house. MC assholes. Maybe I’m in shock, but I don’t feel sad or scared — I’m mostly just really pissed off.

  What were they hoping to accomplish, anyway?

  Leo says that if they’d wanted us dead, they would have just busted into the house and got the job done. This was just a scare tactic. And maybe it wasn’t me they were supposed to be scaring away. Maybe they were hoping Leo would realize that I’m more trouble than I’m worth and leave me to fend for myself.

  If anything, their ploy has had the exact opposite effect. At this point, he barely lets me go the bathroom by myself. As if bikers are going to jump out of the closet with guns blazing to take me out, or something.

  And now Leo is hovering over me like I’m made of glass and might shatter at any moment. I’m gonna start clawing at the walls if I can’t get out of here soon.

  The walls are closing in around me.

  His phone rings. Our eyes meet as he fishes it out of his pocket. I see the hesitation in his face when he glances down at the caller ID. It’s obviously someone calling about something he doesn’t want to be my business. Does he leave the room to take the call or stay to keep an eye on me?

  I turn back to the television, feigning interest. A bunch of men in cowboy hats are on horseback and race across the screen. I haven’t been watching so I have no clue what’s going on.

  Leo takes the bait. I hear the squeak of leather as he levers himself off of the couch. His feet make a soft swishing sound on the hardwood as he walks to the bedroom door.

  “Why’d it take so long for you to call me back—” he trails off as the bedroom door closes, leaving only a small crack at the opening.

  My shoes are in the bedroom but I’m not even thinking about that. I just have to get out of the apartment. I need to feel air on my face and remind myself that there’s a world outside of these walls. A world that I might someday be able to go back to.

  Leo is still talking, though his voice is pitched low enough that I can’t make out any actual words. He sounds angry. That might be a good thing. Maybe it’ll be a long conversation.

  I take careful steps toward the door, rising up on my toes so my feet make as little noise as possible on the floor. Escape is only a few yards away, shining like a beacon in a dark night. I don’t have a plan. I just have to go. The need is totally irrational and completely impossible to ignore.

  A long arm wraps around my waist and yanks me back into a chest that feels like a wall of granite.

  A hot mouth presses against my ear. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Nowhere out the front door?”

  He loosens his grip enough that I can turn in his arms and look up into his amused face. There’s worry underneath the amusement. Maybe he thinks I’ve gone crazy. Maybe I have.

  “I just need to go out for a bit.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m losing my mind in here.” Leo lets me pull away completely. I stomp toward the couch and flop down on it. “I might as well be in prison.”

  “This is nothing like prison.” He’s definitely laughing at me. “We have liquor here.”

  I turn to glare at him over the back of the couch as he leans against the wall next to the door. His arms are crossed over his chest. “Which you won’t even let me drink.”

  “One or two shots is more than enough to calm you down. You don’t need to get wasted to make yourself feel better.”

  I scoff. “Says you.”

  “C’mon, Mara. You’re acting like I’m the bad guy here.” He pushes off the wall and comes to sit next to me on the couch. “I’m just trying to keep you from getting clipped.”

  I’m still pissed at the aborted escape attempt. “What makes you think staying here is any better? We might as well be sitting ducks.”

  He shrugs, seeming unconcerned. “Not many people know where I live.”

  “Somebody could still find us, though,” I stubbornly insist.

  “Maybe,” he allows. “You know why I bought this specific apartment instead of getting a house or something, like most guys.”

  “No, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

  Leo chooses to ignore the insolent tone. “We’re on the fifteenth floor. A single exit makes the door a good choke point. And that door is steel-reinforced. A group of guys trying to rush through is going to get picked off one by one. I checked out all of the other buildings within half a mile of here and there’s not a single sniper’s nest that’s gives a sightline through the windows. There’s no safer place for you to be, but here with me.”

  His matter-of-fact tone gives me pause. I deflate a bit. “You’ve thought this through.”

  “Hazard of the job.”

  “I don’t know how you can live like this.” A wave of hopelessness rolls over me. “Don’t you ever just want to be normal?”

  “And what the fuck is normal?” He waves that away like it’s not even worth thinking about. “Could things be a little more boring? Maybe. But this is what I am — might as well embrace it.”

  I envy his surety. I can’t ever remember a time in my entire life when I felt like I belonged. �
�Who was on the phone?”

  He looks away. “Just a business call that I was waiting on.”

  “About me?”

  The expression on his face is mocking. “You’re not the only thing going in my life right now, you know.”

  “Ooo-kay.” I stare at the televisions screen. I’ve just noticed it’s just showing the DVD menu screen of the movie on repeat. I wonder how long it’s been playing on a loop without us noticing. “I hate your taste in movies.”

  Leo smiles. “Chick flicks aren’t really my thing, sweetheart. Sorry.”

  “Who says I like chick flicks? Maybe I just want something with a special effects budget that wasn’t paid in continental currency.” I pick the DVD case up off the floor and study it. “High Noon? This movie was made in 1952. That’s almost as old as my grandfather.”

  He grabs the box out of my hands, looking offended. “You just don’t know good shit when you see it. Fucking kids these days.”

  “Please,” I scoff. “You’re like ten years older me.”

  “Apparently, that’s how long it takes to develop some taste.”

  “Oh, right.” My voice is heavy with sarcasm. I’m enjoying the verbal sparring more than I should. It’s nice to see a side of him that’s not all darkness and mayhem. “Please tell me you’re not one of those assholes that're all like Citizen Kane was the last great movie ever made.”

  “Is that what I said?” His knee brushes against mine when he leans toward me on the couch. “Of course, there’s some decent new shit. But these are classics for a reason.”

  “Sorry, what did you say? I just heard something, something, boring, boring, boring.”

  My only warning is the dark light that begins to shine in his eyes. His smile turns seductive. “Oh, you’re bored. Why didn’t you just say so? I’m sure I can think of something else to entertain you for a little bit.”

  Leo is on top of me before I can react. He pins me down on the couch. I let out a surprised shriek that’s cut off by a searing kiss.

  He pulls back a little, his face flushed. “First thing we can do is find something for those pretty lips to do besides mouth off.”