by Tasha Fawkes
Allie’s safety was at stake. Though I had claimed her as my own, and even in spite of our rescue of her at Tarasov’s, I knew that the Russian required careful watching. He wouldn’t hesitate to betray me or attempt to get even. I knew he would, eventually. I just didn’t know how.
There were still too many unanswered questions to give me any sense of ease.
Had he been behind the attempted hit on my life? Now that I had agreed to this alliance, was he happy?
I didn’t believe it for a second. He was planning something, I could feel it. And this alliance was just part of the ‘something’ he planned. I needed information and cursed under my breath, wishing I could still have Allie working her magic on the computers. Unfortunately, since her kidnapping, I couldn’t risk it. Even if she was careful, I had the lingering belief that the mole was someone from inside my own organization.
I couldn’t drop my guard, nor could I stop worrying about Allie’s safety. Protecting her was even more important than my own safety. This was my life, and I accepted the risks and dangers that came along with it. Allie didn’t.
Still, I wanted her in my life. I was a selfish bastard for that, but the thought of her disappearing from my life forever was unthinkable. This is where I needed to be when so much was at stake with Tarasov. I couldn’t allow him to get close to her again—and I wouldn’t. She’d said yes. She would be my wife, which meant—
“Did you hear me?”
Shaking myself back to the present, I glanced at Ronan, who was sitting in the passenger seat as he stared at me. “What?”
“What’s with that cat that ate the canary grin? What have you got going on?” He grunted, but the sound was followed up with a wary grin. “It’s making me uneasy. You got something up your sleeve in regard to Tarasov?”
I shook my head. Shit. I needed to pull myself together and focus. If Ronan sensed my mood or caught me so distracted, so could anyone else. Even so, that proved difficult this morning.
I couldn’t erase the image of Allie saying yes to my marriage proposal last night. Her brief moment of hesitation had given me pause, but I imagined her analytical brain had needed several moments to weigh the pros and cons. While the pros were numerous and pleasurable, I also knew that she also had to consider the downside. And yet, she had said yes.
I turned to Ronan with an easy lie. “You’d be smiling too if you knew how much this job was bringing in for the Outfit.”
Ronan was about to say something when a black SUV pulled up alongside us. I frowned, the darkly tinted windows preventing me from seeing who was inside. As one of the rear windows slid down, I realized that Tarasov was sitting in the back. He motioned me to get inside his vehicle.
I didn’t trust the Russian farther than I could throw him and glanced at Ronan. “Be ready,” I murmured. With careful movements, I stepped from my car and to the passenger door of Tarasov’s SUV.
We eyed each other for several silent moments, each of us weighing the other. Finally, a faint smile turned up the corners of Tarasov’s mouth as he spoke something in Russian to a man sitting in the front passenger seat. I watched, tense and ready for anything as he lifted a briefcase for me to see, one of his wrists cuffed to the handle of it.
Slowly, cautiously, aware that any untoward moves on his part would likely produce an eruption of gunfire inside the vehicle, he pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs before slowly passing the briefcase to Tarasov.
Tarasov placed the case on his lap and turned to me.
“I appreciate that you are hands-on with my shipments, closely watching to make sure nothing goes wrong,” he said, his accent heavy. “I believe that, in many ways, the two of us are alike.”
I bristled internally but kept my voice calm. “I’m nothing like you.”
Tarasov merely shrugged and then patted the briefcase. “Perhaps we got off to a rocky start.”
I said nothing, not wanting to engage in any small talk with the bastard.
“I’m impressed with how well your Outfit has handled this shipment.” He opened the briefcase, revealing tightly stacked bundles of one-hundred-dollar bills. “As a show of good faith, I’m delivering the first payment in person.”
He closed the briefcase and handed it to me. I took it, showing no emotion. “As a show of good faith, I’ll accept it without counting every bill.”
His mouth tightened. “For our sakes, I’m hoping there will be many more to come.” Tarasov flicked his hand, conveying that the discussion was over.
I climbed out of the vehicle, never turning my back directly on Tarasov, the driver, or the man occupying the passenger seat. The moment I closed the door, his vehicle pulled away. I watched until it left the parking lot and disappeared between two warehouses before I climbed back into the car and handed the briefcase to Ronan, who opened it and let out a low, soft whistle.
“Niall’s will be pleased,” he said. “Is this going to be routine?”
“I have no idea.” I sighed. “For now, I know that there are three shipments scheduled.” I glanced at Ronan and then at the briefcase filled with money. “Count it. Repeat the process with any other payments we get.”
Back at Club HQ, we sat in Niall’s small office space, divvying up the cash into envelopes to dole out to the board members before our board meeting. It was a lot of money, and of course, Niall and the others would be pleased. I didn’t care much about the money. Still, I had to act as though I did.
“Like I said in the car,” I said to Ronan, “I’ll still be smiling when I see how much this operation brings in.” Ronan said nothing, so I turned to him. “What are your thoughts on Tarasov?”
Ronan shrugged, pocketing his share. “With this kind of payday, we don’t have to like the guy,” he finally said.
“We just need to stay on our guard around him and his men.” Once more, I glanced at Ronan and saw his gaze on me. “What? What are you thinking?”
He hesitated only a second. “When the rest of the board members receive their cut of the takings, and they see for themselves the very real benefits of this new alliance with the Russians, you do know that there will be no backing out on this deal with Tarasov. The board won’t let you.”
This had already been in the forefront of my mind. “You let me worry about the board members. You just do your job and keep an eye on them. Like I said, I don’t trust them one bit. I have a feeling that Tarasov has something up his sleeve. I don’t know what it is or when it will happen, but I know that something will.”
Ronan nodded, and I continued counting and placing money in envelopes. I knew what Ronan said was true. I couldn’t back out of this deal with Tarasov now, not with this kind of money rolling in. The Outfit would benefit from this alliance, monetarily, at least.
Nevertheless, and once more, I tried to figure out Niall’s ultimate purpose for this alliance. I knew it wasn’t just the money. The Outfit had enough money coming in. Then again, to some of the board members, enough was never enough.
Eleven
Allie
I’d laid in bed for the past hour, my nerves increasingly jittery, my anxiety rising to alarming levels, so much so that I felt the pulse pounding in my neck, to the point that once in a while, my body actually shuddered in an effort to rid some of the apprehension from my muscles. I waited for Marcus to come home. I wasn’t sure if I looked forward to it or dreaded it.
Two nights ago, he’d asked me to marry him. I told him I would. But I also knew that things couldn’t go on the way they had been. I had this secret, and it was eating me alive. I had to tell him, but at the same time, I didn’t want to. I dreaded the outcome.
I had to tell him about Agent Felicia Warner and the ultimatum she’d given me. I couldn’t keep a secret like that from Marcus. The knowledge would affect him personally, as well as his organization. I also knew that I couldn’t do anything behind his back. I wasn’t a spy. I also knew that since my kidnapping, he had people watching over me. I had no idea how m
any or how often. I could have eyes on me every moment I was outside the building, or it could be intermittent. Would that change now that I was his fiancée? Would I be safer now?
Back to the matter at hand. The ATF. My heart thudded dully in my chest. The Outfit was under surveillance. I had to say something, didn’t I? Not doing so just felt wrong. It wasn’t just a matter of betraying him, it was a matter of betraying myself and what I believed in. I believed in Marcus. I wanted to believe that Marcus would leave the Outfit of his own free will, that if he wanted me badly enough, he would do so, and gladly.
Since the marriage proposal, he hadn’t said anything about anything. Not about my safety, not about the Russians, nothing. I think he was content enough when I stayed in the penthouse, but did he really think that we could insulate ourselves forever? Isolate ourselves from alliances, betrayals, suspicions, and outright violence?
I might be naïve and inexperienced when it came to mob life, but even I knew that much was unlikely. I had never realized how deeply loyal members of any gang could be. Whether you called it a street gang or the Mafia, loyalty was an important part of the membership. Was it stupid and blind of me to think that Marcus could just walk away? That he would be allowed to walk away? So yes, I knew how difficult such a decision would be for Marcus. It could also be potentially—no, make that likely—dangerous.
Yet, I also knew that my concern for him was real. I worried that his continued life in the Outfit would lead to nothing but pain and an untimely death for him. My worry was a product of my love for him. My heart skipped a beat. Yes, I did love him. I loved him, and I wanted him, and I wanted him in my life. Despite the age difference, despite the difference in our life experiences, I had an unshakable belief that he was the man for me.
At the same time, it was time to divulge the secret I’ve been keeping.
It was nerve-racking. Even as he asked me to marry him, I had held the secret close. He would be disappointed—at the very least—that I hadn’t told him about Agent Warner immediately. That I had held onto the secret for days. I also realized, deep down, that I didn’t believe that he was mentally or emotionally ready to walk away from this life, and when he found out about the ATF, he would do everything he could to protect Niall and the board members.
Unfortunately, his leaving this life was the only way I would even consider going through with a marriage. I hadn’t told him that, either. Another secret. I couldn’t live like this, looking over my shoulder every minute, worrying about my safety, his safety, my dad’s safety…
This was no life. I knew that Marcus wanted to keep me safe but keeping me sequestered in his penthouse wasn’t the way to go about it. I knew it eased his worries, but I couldn’t be trapped in any space, or when I did go out, followed by one of his people. I wanted to get back to work. I also knew that if I got caught in the web of investigations into the Philly Outfit, I could kiss my chances of a career goodbye.
It was ironic. Here I was, a former student studying criminal justice, who had once dreamed of becoming a crime scene investigator. Now, I was lying in a mobster’s bed, naked, waiting for him to get home so that—
I heard the click of the door opening and quietly shutting. My heart sped into overdrive, and my fists clutched at the sheets beneath me. I wanted to chicken out. I wanted to pretend that an ultimatum wasn’t necessary and that what I was about to tell him might not end our relationship.
I rolled onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow, choking back emotions that struggled to escape as his footsteps brought him closer to the master bedroom. He didn’t turn on any lights, figuring that I was asleep. I lay still, pretending to be, telling myself that I couldn’t succumb to my cravings for him. Not tonight. Not when I had to tell him everything.
It wasn’t an easy decision, and it certainly wasn’t one I made lightly, but it came down to a choice. Marcus had to choose the Outfit or me.
I heard him undressing and could very well picture what his body looked like as he removed his shirt and reached to unbuckle the belt on his slacks. The rippling, strong musculature of his chest and shoulders, his biceps…I tried not to think about how it felt to run my fingers over every inch of his muscles or lingered over his tattoo.
I remembered the line from a movie—resistance is futile. Now, I understood it, heart, body, and soul. The thought of being married to Marcus, of him being my husband, stirred something deep inside me.
I wanted him. Again. I had to have him, even if it was just one more time. Because I had no doubt that after I divulged my secrets and gave him my ultimatum, this might very well be the last time I felt his fingers on my skin. The bed dipped as he sat down on his side. With a tired sigh, he slid beneath the sheets. Carefully, he adjusted himself on the bed and inched his rock-hard body up against mine.
For several brief seconds, my anxiety morphed into another kind of emotion as love and desire and need surged through me. A few more minutes. Just a few more glorious minutes, and then I would say the words that might very well change my life forever.
I rolled over and climbed on top of Marcus, stretching the length of my body against his, feeling every muscle, every inch of his hot skin, my hands grasping his shoulders and clutching them as if I was hanging on for dear life. I felt like I was drowning, and Marcus was my anchor. Waves sought to tug me away from him, but I resisted. I kissed him, almost desperately, as if this was our final kiss, these touches our last. My desire became insistent, demanding, and powerful.
I took control, my lips caressing his face, my tongue diving deep in his mouth, my hands roaming, insistent and impatient. Marcus grunted softly before growling, the sound erupting from deep in his chest. The sound only spurred me onward. He let me have my way, doing whatever I wanted to, how I wanted it. I thought he sensed that I needed this.
Could he also sense my secrets? The conversation that was coming?
For a moment, I froze, and my breath caught in my chest at the thought. No, he couldn’t know.
I made a soft noise in my throat, and the next instant, I was on my back as he took control of the kiss. Seconds later, his hands cupped my breasts, his fingers tweaking my nipples until they felt electrified, shooting delicious sensations throughout my entire body.
I inhaled his scent, the feel of his skin beneath my fingers, the strength of his hands, his muscles as he pulled me against his rock-hard chest. My hands strayed everywhere, from his shoulders to his back, down to his hips and then back again, undecided where they wanted to land.
We kissed until I craved a breath, and I turned my head. Undeterred, he lowered his head, his tongue sliding down my neck until he caught a nipple in his mouth. Neither breast was ignored, his mouth and tongue worshiping one while his fingers played with the other.
A moan erupted from my throat. My body craved more. As if he sensed my thoughts, his hand then stroked my belly and then down even farther, between my thighs, slowly sliding up the smooth, silky skin toward my sex. He cradled my warmth. I moaned as one finger slid up my slit, and I groaned again, my hips surging upward to take him deeper into me.
My breathing grew heavier as he moved down my body, lowering his head to kiss my knee, the inside of my thigh, one hipbone, then the next. He nuzzled his nose in the soft curls between my thighs, and I listened to him inhale.
“Your scent is addicting,” he said, and I could feel the vibration of the words against my clit, and I arched until I was pressed against him harder. “I love how you taste, love how sensitive you are. How ready for me.”
His words were a seduction, each word vibrating through me, pulling me deeper into the waters of pleasure. I reached for him and found his hair, sinking my fingers into the soft strands. “Marcus…”
He chuckled. “Tell me what you want.”
I raised my head and our eyes met down the length of my body. “Your tongue. I want your tongue.”
He licked me with the flat of his tongue, and my head fell back as his teeth scraped over my sensitive cl
it. He blew a steady stream of cool air up my slit and goose bumps raised on my skin. Then, he began to feed.
I tried to push him away. I tried to pull him closer. I tried to survive the onslaught of his mouth but wasn’t sure if I could as he sucked and licked, my cries of pleasure seeming to only increase his need to devour.
He was relentless, pushing me toward the edge, not stopping until I was flying into the abyss. Even then, as every cell in my body exploded, he didn’t stop. He ate and licked and took and gave, stealing my breath and ability to move.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said as he crawled up my body, his tongue tracing a path to my breast. I cried out as he sank his teeth into one nipple, biting and pulling before he moved his attention to the other.
“More,” I begged, pulling him higher, my legs wrapping around his thighs.
He kissed my shoulder. My neck. My cheek. My forehead. The very tip of my nose. When his lips finally found mine, his cock nudged my entrance.
“You mean the world to me.” His breath was warm against my face as the head of his cock slipped through my wet folds until it stroked over my clit, sending additional delicious sensations through me.
I cupped his face with my hands, lifted my head to press my lips to his. “You mean the world to me too.”
In one powerful thrust, he was inside of me, his mouth crashing over mine, the echo of skin on skin echoing through the room. I keened, but he swallowed the sound…and every sound I made after it.
He was so big, so powerful. He could crush me if he wished.
But he was also so tender and kind. So loving and patient.
So mine. For now.
“Allie…” My name was a whisper on his lips that he repeated over and over. I wrapped myself around him tighter, watching his face hovering over mine. Our eyes connected as we moved in a dance as old as time itself.