A Marked Man

by Stella Cameron

  “I should have stayed at my apartment,” Annie said. She had insisted on going there first to shower and to check on Irene. The cat hadn’t been pleased when they left.

  “I’m glad you didn’t stay there,” Max said, keeping his distance from her. He didn’t want to do anything to scare her off completely. “Would you like a drink?”

  She shook her head, no.

  “You haven’t had anything for hours. I can make coffee, if you like.”

  “Coffee keeps me awake.”

  Their eyes met. “I wouldn’t want to do that at this time of the morning.” He tried a smile. “You need your rest.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  Did they? “Yes.” He could hardly grasp that she had agreed to come back to Rosebank with him—even if she was expressing doubts now. She’d brought a small bag of things she’d taken from her apartment and insisted they come into the house just as he would on his own. Not that it made any difference when the place was silent and they hadn’t encountered anyone on their way through the front hall, up the stairs to the second floor, and along another hall to Max’s rooms.

  “You feel awkward, too,” Annie said.

  “Not really.” Just like a man hanging from a frayed rope over a tub filled with eggs. “Please sit down.”

  “It’s a nice room.” She meant it. A man’s room, classy, clubbish, with dark wood paneling and leather furniture. Books hogged horizontal spaces, some in bookcases, a lot in piles—some open and turned facedown, others stacked on the floor. He favored landscape paintings and the ones he had looked original and old.

  “You don’t look comfortable, Annie.”

  Green velvet draperies stood open over linen roman shades. “Neither do you. We’ll get through it.” She liked the way that had sounded. Sophisticated. Nonchalant.

  Spike’s announcement that Lil had mentioned a man in a hood had shaken Annie badly. An immediate check of Max’s expression revealed no reaction, but it was fact that after he stormed out of her apartment on the night they’d been together, she’d seen a figure in a hooded garment pass the gate to the alley outside. And she was almost sure she saw the same or a similar person at St. Cécil’s, only she’d been waking from a dream and didn’t trust much of what she’d thought at the time. But the coincidences were piling up.

  “If I haven’t already told you,” Max said, “I’m happy to have you with me in what I call home these days.”

  “Thank you.”

  Annie waffled, unable to decide whether to mention her own sightings to Max. He would think she had piggybacked onto Lil’s comment and dreamed up hooded menaces of her own. Spike would probably decide the same thing.

  “Bobby Colbert came into Pappy’s yesterday evening.”

  “Yes, so you said earlier,” Max said. She couldn’t tell if he was worried or furious.

  “I didn’t intend to mention it at all. I don’t know why I did.”

  “Yes, you do,” Max said. “The guy scares you. I’ve seen it in your eyes when he’s mentioned.”

  Of course he was right. She had brought up Bobby’s name deliberately. “He was nice to me.” Yet there had been that one sideways stare that menaced her.

  “He’s not nice,” Max said. “He…”

  “What. He what?” This wasn’t the first time she believed Max stopped himself from saying more about Bobby.

  “He bugs me. I wish he’d stay wherever he’s supposed to be. Doesn’t he have a job?”

  “I think so. He always worked in his father’s insurance office.” Her voice trailed away. Bobby Colbert’s parents were people she had tried to wipe from her mind. “Let’s not talk about Bobby anymore.”

  “Did he try to get cozy with you?” Max asked.

  Men were always suspicious of any potential competition. She shouldn’t expect Max to be any different. “No,” she said. He didn’t need to get hot under the collar because Bobby pressed for a date.

  Max narrowed his eyes as if he were deciding whether to believe her.

  “I’m good at looking out for myself,” she told him.

  His hand shot out so fast, he had a tight hold on her arm before she could react. “I want you to stay away from him.”

  She looked at his hand but it stayed there. “I didn’t ask him to come by.”

  “Promise you’ll call me if he comes near you again.”

  Men didn’t get to push Annie Duhon around anymore, no matter what excuse they thought they had. She wrenched her arm away. “Thanks for your concern.”

  He looked her in the eyes and nodded. “Sorry. I got carried away. Put it down to…” His chin rose. “I care what happens to you. Friends are allowed to do that.”

  “As long as they don’t get overbearing,” Annie said. She scarcely recognized herself as she was now, determined, at least outwardly, even when she was shrinking inside. She patted his arm. “Thanks for caring.” Again she felt proud of sticking up for herself. She’d come a long way.

  Max smiled, a gentle smile. “It’s good to know what you like.”

  “I feel so awful for Madge,” Annie said to change the subject. “Millie isn’t likely to survive, is she?”

  “Probably not, but it isn’t cold, so that’s not a problem. We can always hope. If there weren’t so many animals around out there, and if I thought she had any skills to take care of herself…Poor little devil.”

  Annie looked away. Her eyes stung and she didn’t want him to see her reaction. Would Madge stay at the rectory tonight, or come back here? When Annie and Max left the hospital, Madge and Cyrus were still there, sitting on chairs outside Lil’s cubicle. Annie wouldn’t like Madge to see her at Rosebank and know she’d been with Max all night. If she decided to leave, Max would have to drive her.

  “I like your desk,” she said. The silences were long and awkward. “It’s big. Looks like it’s meant for a man.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “The whole room looks as if it was done with you in mind.”

  He smiled and bowed. “Thank you. That means I know what I like. And you understand me. The furniture’s mine.”

  His delight amused Annie.

  The smiles faded and with them, the slight thaw.

  She had come to sleep with him. They both knew it. Annie smiled again. And Max smiled back. He came close enough to put a finger under her chin and tilt his head sideways to study her.

  “In a day or so you’ll hardly see any marks on your face,” he said, vaguely removed, professional even. Then he looked into her eyes and there was nothing professional about that look. Intensely, deeply blue in the warmly shadowed room, his gaze probed for answers. He expected to make love to her and he was searching for clues to how she felt, what she wanted, how to break through any doubts she had.

  Annie didn’t turn away, or even try. “I shouldn’t have hit you with the rock.”

  He finally moved his attention to her mouth. “No, you shouldn’t have. But I don’t blame you. You were shocked and you were scared. And the other thing was going on—the fire stuff.”

  She swallowed, tried to swallow again but her mouth was too dry.

  Max frowned. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.”

  “Too fast, cher. Think about it. You know my history, and you know I’m under suspicion now. The only reason I’m not in custody is because they don’t have any evidence—or a body. Are you sure you’re not scared to be alone with me?”

  Annie stiffened her spine and kept her head up. “I’m sure.” And she was—almost. A telephone call from a stranger had sent him after her in St. Martinville. “But I do wonder how you found me.”

  Of course she did, Max thought. “I got—”

  “A call,” she finished for him. “And you don’t know who it was.”

  “No, I don’t. Annie, I automatically went back where we’d been before. You had that episode there. I thought you might be there trying to figure it out.”

  “You’re
starting to know me, too,” Annie said.

  “I followed your flashlight. Then it went out. I was trying to get to you without scaring you to death.”

  Her wraith of a smile, the flash of humor in her eyes reminded him again why he liked her so much.

  “I believe you,” Annie said. “But Guy’s goin’ to tell Spike all about it and who knows what he’ll believe?”

  “I know,” Max said. “All I can do is wait. I don’t expect anything from you. It’s just good to have you here.”

  “But you want something from me.”

  No smile from her this time.

  “Don’t you?” she said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then we’re even. Too bad the stuff before, the dancing around each other, scares me nuts.” If she was a fool to tell him the truth, she’d be a fool.

  “You call the shots,” Max said.

  “I think I did that last time. Mostly.”

  “And it still wasn’t easy on you, was it?” He moved in and held her head, rubbed little circles at the sides of her face with his thumbs. “So what’s the answer?”

  For once she wished someone else would make decisions for her. She could tell him that, straight out, only her breath blocked her throat.

  Above his eyebrow, where the rock had landed first, a circle of skin had gone leaving raw redness and specks of blood behind. A thin welt spread into his hair. Her blow hadn’t been too solid.

  Annie spread his collar apart and saw where she had scratched him. She’d been thinking about DNA because she expected him to kill her. Now she was alone with him in his rooms.

  And glad. If he’d wanted to get rid of her he’d already had his chances.

  “Wish I could read your mind,” Max said, even though he wasn’t so certain he’d like what he saw.

  “I’ve never attacked anyone before.” Only been attacked. Impetuously she blew softly on his marred skin. “My mom used to do that if I hurt myself.”

  “Oh, yeah, you can blow on me anytime.”

  She closed her eyes and her lashes flickered.

  Max hesitated. She seemed so vulnerable. Get on with it or stop. He kissed her. Kissed her again. And Annie stood there, her face turned up to his, her arms at her sides, responding with her lips alone.

  If she wanted to unnerve him, she’d succeeded, but the taste of her, the feel of her mouth, spurred him on. He was hard. Looking at Annie was enough to arouse him. Kissing her, sensing her warmth, imagining her naked in his hands—against his body—drove in the fiery stake.

  “You feel good,” he said between kisses.

  Annie opened her eyes, soft blue eyes. She took a moment to refocus on him. Soft to touch, soft to look at—warm and responsive to hold. When he stroked it, her pale hair flew, fine, reminding him of watching a child blow on a dandelion puff in the sunshine.

  Pull yourself together, Savage. He didn’t usually have to remind himself he was a scientist, not a dreamer.

  “Max,” Annie said. “I owe you something. You need to know some things about me.”

  “You’ve got a criminal record? Oh, good. That makes me feel better.”

  Annie frowned at him. Some men couldn’t resist turning serious moments into jokes. “This isn’t easy for me.”

  He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m not usually flip.”

  “I’m…” No, she wouldn’t ask him to decide where she should start. How did he know?

  Max kissed her again, for a long, hot time, and shifted his hands from her waist to her breasts. He spread his fingers and rubbed, and Annie’s belly tightened. Her breasts felt swollen and sensitive. She put her arms around his neck, her hands in his hair, and he covered her bottom, ground her pelvis into his.

  No pretending this time. “Max, I want to show you something.”

  He groaned and pulled her face into the crook of his neck.

  “I know,” she told him. “I don’t want to stop, either. Let me go, please.”

  His sigh, his convulsive grip on her, didn’t help. Max dropped his arms and stepped backward but Annie wished she had done this a better way, sooner, before she’d excited him.

  “I’m going to take my clothes off,” she said. “Is this the best place?”

  Confusion clouded Max’s eyes. He scrubbed at them with the heels of his hands. “Are you going to put me on a roller coaster whenever we’re together this way?”

  For a moment she couldn’t make herself say another word.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said when she’d been quiet too long.

  Annie cleared her throat and looked over her shoulder to the only door in the room. “Could we go in the bedroom?”

  His expression cleared. “I don’t understand you, but be my guest.”

  She went toward the bedroom, picking up her bag as she went. Her hips didn’t sway, the walk wasn’t studied, but she had the most desirable ass he’d ever seen. Looking at her started something he used to think only happened to men without minds, men led around by their penises.

  He followed her, closed the door behind them while she dropped the bag on the floor and stood by his bed with her back to him.

  Remembering, he turned off the lights.

  “Don’t do that,” she said, her voice sharp in the darkness.

  “I thought you preferred it.”

  “I don’t.”

  He obliged her by flipping the wall switch. Low light spread from the bedside lamps again.

  “I like this room, too,” Annie said quietly.

  “Thanks.”

  She held the hem of her white tank top and pulled it off in one motion. Underneath she wore a pink satin bra. Her skin was as pale as he’d expected.

  He crossed his arms and gripped his biceps while she folded the tank.

  Blue linen pants slipped easily to her feet and she stepped out. Once again she folded the garment. Max couldn’t look away from pink satin hipsters. They fitted smoothly and they weren’t demure. Laces crisscrossed an open vee that plunged to the cleft in her bottom.

  She reached back and undid the bra, slipped out of it and put it on her neat pile. And Max shook his head. He was also just about out of control. “Annie—”

  “Don’t touch me!” She faced him. “You’ll be kind. That’s who you are. But you’ll never know how I feel inside or how it is to be crazy about a man, or to have sex with him and feel like you’re cheating him while he’s makin’ love to you.”

  “You didn’t cheat me.”

  “Come closer.”

  He started to go to her but she held up a hand before he reached her. “See,” she said, pointing to a thigh. “That’s the least of it.”

  Burn scars. “I see. I wondered about your hands but you never said anything, so neither did I.”

  Wriggling her hips this time, Annie skimmed off her panties. She held them in both hands and turned her head away.

  Max looked at her pelvis. His first thought was that he should have noticed from the feeling alone. He took breaths to stuff down the urge to question her.

  “You got quite a burn,” he said when he could. “I’m sorry you went through so much pain.”

  But why did she think he, of all people, would be horrified, or disgusted?

  “It wasn’t fair to hide it away from you the way I did. You deserved to make up your own mind about this.”

  “You’ve got scars,” he said. “They’re well healed.” But they had been third degree in most places. He hated how they curled back between her legs. No wonder she’d bled. If she hadn’t had sex since it happened, he’d probably broken dry skin.

  She shook. Standing on one foot, trying to put her panties back on, Annie wobbled.

  “That’s it,” Max said, closing in and lifting her by the waist. He sat her on the bed and took away the panties. Gently, he rubbed the smooth marks on her thigh. “You know I want you to tell me how it happened, but let’s get something straight first.” With the pads of his fingers, he stroked the other scar
s, soothed them. “I don’t care about this—why would I? You’re lovely, and sexy. Annie, you are so sexy. Accidents happen—forget it.” His laugh didn’t lighten anything up.

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Annie said.

  Very little made Max recoil, but he looked at the location of the old injuries and went cold. And he made up his mind. He stripped, fast, determined to be naked before she could argue too much.

  “Max—”

  “I’m in charge,” he told her. “Enjoy it.” He heard her indrawn breath.

  He had anticipated they could be here like this eventually. This time he’d make sure nothing took away from her satisfaction. A bedside drawer held what they needed.

  Seconds later Annie pulled up her knees. “That’s cold.”

  “It’ll be warm very soon,” he told her, easing her legs down and working the jelly into places that started her writhing and reaching for him.

  He coated her belly, her thighs, smiled a little and slicked her midriff, and her breasts. “I’m taking advantage now,” he said. “I’d be a fool not to.” She closed her eyes tightly and he made sure they would slip together like melted butter, even though handling himself almost brought him to his knees.

  Annie slitted her eyes to see him. He had shown her he didn’t care if she had ugly scars—he also didn’t know the full extent of them, but perhaps he’d guessed.

  “I see you, sweetheart,” he told her. “You ready for me?”

  She nodded, burning up inside.

  Max bent over and kissed her long, deep and slow, and he held her breasts, incited her nipples with his thumbs. Her hips rose from the bed.

  Looking at her, he kissed her again, and slid his forearms beneath her shoulders so he could rest on his elbows. If she’d wanted to touch him she couldn’t—she couldn’t reach.

  He nudged himself into the folds between her legs and her eyes shot all the way open.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “If you hurt, tell me and we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  She didn’t hurt. Max prodded against her, came close to entering but drew back to press at her sweet spot some more. He held her hips while he continued. Then, when her legs jerked and she couldn’t keep her hips on the bed, he held his penis and stroked at her faster and faster until Annie threw her arms over her head, and rode an unbearably strong climax.