Why does this hurt? You don't need him. You don't need him.
*
Two hours later, she stood in her own room, staring at the bed. She had showered and gotten dressed over at Marc's, then gone back to her room. She had expected Kingsley to be waiting for her. In fact, she'd halfway expected him to burst in on them last night. She'd been surprised that he'd given them privacy, and was fully prepared to thank him, after she apologized for the way she'd treated him. But neither of those things happened when she went back to her room.
He was passed out, snoring loud enough that someone in the other room was pounding on their wall.
Jesus, can't leave him alone for five minutes.
She should've known better than to let him storm off. Lily knew Kingsley very well, knew what he did when he got stressed out or upset. He must have gotten tanked. Hammered, if his snoring was anything to go by; she was lucky he'd come back at all. Since she'd found him Thailand, he hadn't really gone off the deep end again, but she'd known there was a chance he could again.
In their line of work, assassination was where all the money was – killing someone paid the best of anything they did, but Lily refused. She was fine with stealing from people and with scaring people, even roughing people up, but she wouldn't take a life. Not unless it was self defense, or Stankovski. Just her own personal hard limit.
Kingsley was not only fine with it, but he was rather good at it. The first time he ever took a hit job, while with her, had been in Los Angeles. Right after they'd pulled off a big heist, he'd taken the hit contract, on a whim. Just for himself, because it had a big bounty. He'd marched out the door, and she hadn't thought much of it. Kingsley was a big boy and had been doing his job for a long time, he wouldn't even be in the same building with the mark. She wasn't worried.
But then he didn't come back for fifteen hours. She'd almost lost her mind, thinking he'd been captured, or worse – killed. She'd searched everywhere for him, every drug den and “massage parlor” she could find, but nothing. Just when she'd been considering driving to Vegas to search the whore houses there, he'd turned up. His suit was rumpled, and he reeked of booze, but other than that, he was all in one piece.
They never spoke of it, continued on as if nothing else had happened, but that's when it was cemented in her mind that Kingsley wasn't as okay with his life as he liked to pretend. Women and alcohol, and sometimes drugs, were how he dealt with it all. All the stress and anxiety, and sometimes even anger.
And she had certainly made him angry.
“Kingsley,” she said his name in a loud voice, moving to stand next to the bed. He was sprawled out on top of the covers, and though his jacket was missing, he was still wearing the rest of his clothing. Even his cuff links and tie were in place, his shoes still on his feet. She snapped her fingers in front of his face, but he still didn't show any signs of waking up. She sighed.
“Wake up!” she yelled, slapping him sharply. He snorted and his eyes blinked open.
“Mai!” he snapped, rubbing his cheek.
Where have I heard that name before? Thailand … six months ago … when I woke him up in the shower … who is Mai?
“Wrong chick, asshole,” she chuckled. He groaned and put both hands over his face.
“Fucking hell, what time is it?”
“Close to nine.”
“Shit, I have got the worst hangover.”
“That's what happens when you drink your weight in alcohol.”
“Did I really?”
“I'm just guessing, it could have been more.”
“Cheeky,” he grumbled, moving his hands and looking around.
“You love my brand of cheeky,” she informed him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a sitting position.
“That's stretching it a bit, darling.”
“Do you feel better about yourself? And the way you behaved?” she asked bluntly. He paused for a second, then frowned.
“Ah, yes. I think I remember now. I'd forgotten.”
“Are you still drunk?” she checked. He rubbed at his eyes again.
“Unfortunately, no. I've got a roaring headache, though, so please, go easy on me. I'm not in the mood to be charming this morning,” he warned her. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, readying herself to eat some humble pie.
“I'm sorry,” she said quickly. He didn't look at her, just pulled a loose cigarette out of his pants. It was bent, but he stuck it between his lips anyway.
“Not even worth mentioning, darling,” he assured her.
“It is. You have been amazing to me, and you didn't deserve to be talked to like that. I handled it badly, and I'm really, really sorry. I feel awful. You're my best friend, Kingsley. I don't know what I'd do without you, or if anything happened to you. I was just angry, and tired, and in the mood to be a bitch. I'm sorry,” she let it all pour out.
He was silent for so long that she started to get nervous. Maybe he was building up to really let her have it. But then he pulled out his lighter and lit his cigarette, and just like that, she knew they'd be okay.
“Thanks for that, love. I needed it. I'm sorry, as well. Sometimes I make bad choices – you're right, I was using you. But I must say, you are a fantastic kisser,” he said, managing a smile for her. She smiled back.
“That means a lot, coming from you.”
“Cheers.”
“Who is Mai?”
Kingsley froze for a second. Had she been a normal person, had she not been living with him for so long, she would have missed it. It was barely a moment, then it was gone. He was stumbling to his feet and moving past her.
“I need a piss.”
He stayed in the bathroom for a long time, cleaning himself up and even showering. When he emerged, steam rolled out behind him, and he was freshly shaved, with his hair styled. As he began to put another suit on, a realization dawned on Lily. His appearance was like his armor. If Kingsley looked right, then all was right in his world. Like maybe if the image looking back at him was good enough, he'd be good enough.
How sad.
“Alright?” she asked, watching him in the mirror as he hooked a tie around his neck.
“Perfect. Since we're on such chummy terms again, can you tell me something?” he asked.
“Anything.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“Yes,” she didn't hesitate.
“And is he still here?” he continued, deftly tying a Windsor knot.
“No, he left. He said he knew I didn't need him, and that he didn't want to stand in my way,” she was completely honest.
“Very noble of him. Shocking, almost. I really wanted to kill him yesterday,” Kingsley sighed, finishing his work and sliding the knot up to his throat.
“I know. He probably would've deserved it.”
“One more question?”
“By all means.”
“Did you give him the diamonds?”
She gasped so hard, she choked for a moment. Kingsley came to her side and pounded on her back, but she waved him away.
“How did you know!?” she demanded, pressing a hand to her chest.
“Darling, please. You think I didn't notice that someone had tampered with my precious bag? That shave kit has been with me since I started shaving at thirteen, when my father gave it to me. Your stitching was beautiful, you even matched the thread color. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but this is my job, after all. I have to say, I was a little insulted at first, that you didn't trust me enough to tell me about them. But then I realized that, in a roundabout way, you trusted me enough to take care of them, and that was almost as good,” he finished talking.
She gawked up at him for a moment. He'd known, the whole time, and hadn't said anything. She felt like an idiot.
“I'm … I'm sorry. Those diamonds are cursed. I figured if you knew about them, they'd just create problems. I didn't want that. I don't even want them,” she told him, then pulled the canvas bundle out from the back of her
pants. She held it out to him, but he didn't take it.
“It's alright. I figured you were saving them for a rainy day, or De Sant. And then when you said you made a deal with him, I knew it had to be for the stones. I considered hiding them, but I trusted that you knew what you were doing, and that he wouldn't take them anyway. Glad to see I was right on all counts. Again, I'd like to point out,” he said in a smooth voice. She laughed and dropped the bundle to the bed.
“Law, you are an amazing man,” she informed him. He smiled at her, then walked over to the dresser.
“I know. And in return for being so amazing, you can fix this,” he told her, then chucked her the leather kit that usually held his toiletries. As she looked over the bag, he put his jacket on.
“Where are you going?” she asked, watching as he put on a pair of sunglasses and walked across the room.
“I'm going to go stop that idiot,” he replied, so calm, it was like he was telling her the weather.
He'd managed to open the door before Lily stopped him. She slammed the door shut again and gripped onto his arm.
“You can't do that. This is what he wants. We talked about it. It's okay. I'm okay with this, I don't need him,” she stressed. Kingsley laughed.
“Still such an idiot, darling. You get so bent out of shape when anyone lies to you, yet you lie to yourself all the time,” his voice was low and had no trace of humor in it. He'd said they were good, and was acting like he was okay with what had happened between her and Marc, but his body language spoke otherwise. Something was still off. She stared up at him, wishing she could see his eyes. He had lovely eyes, more gray than blue, and smiling more often than not.
“It was a good kiss,” she addressed the elephant in the room. “And I wish I was what you're looking for, but I'm not. No matter what happens to us, or what happens with Marc, I'll never be what you're looking for. I'm very sorry, I wish I could be that person, I really do. But I'm just not.”
There was a tense moment, and for a second, Lily was afraid she'd overstepped his boundaries. She had just made a lot of assumptions about him. He could get angry. He could leave her. He had absolutely no reason to stay, other than to help her. Someone he was obviously attracted to. Someone who obviously wasn't attracted to him.
“Thank you for that,” his voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat, “but I assure you, I don't think you're that person, either. That person doesn't exist anymore. You're a place holder. A very lovely one, as well as a dear friend, but nothing more. I'm sorry, and it won't happen again.”
He went to move, to pull the door open again, but Lily held fast to his arm. She yanked him to her and wrapped him in a hug, circling her arms around his neck. He froze for a second, then his arms were around her waist, holding her so tight that her bruised ribs ached and throbbed. Her acrobatics with Marc hadn't helped matters at all – she almost wondered if she should get some x-rays.
“What's wrong with us, Law?” she whispered, her voice muffled. He was so much taller than her that her face was pressed into his chest.
“Nothing at all. We're just people, fucked up like everyone else,” he whispered back. She laughed, then sniffled. Felt a tear run down her cheek.
Twice in two days. I'm getting soft.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” she continued.
“And you haven't, darling. I promise.”
“I don't know what to do.”
“I think you know exactly what to do.”
It was true. He really was right, every single time.
DAY TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN
You're a fucking idiot.
Marc sighed and weaved his way through a crowd of people. Miami International Airport was a large, bustling place. It made him nervous, like he wouldn't be able to tell if someone was coming till it was too late, but it was the quickest, easiest way out of the country.
He finally found a section of empty seats and sat down, swinging his pack around to sit in his lap. He cursed again as he opened it and shoved his plane ticket inside.
How did that saying go? Something about a taste being worse than nothing. He was now acutely aware of how true that was. When he inhaled, he could still smell Lily. When he clenched his fists, he could still feel her. Her taste was in his mouth, her voice in his hear. Gasping. Moaning. Saying his name.
Lately, he'd begun to wonder if maybe he'd exaggerated their experiences in his mind. Surely, sex between them couldn't have been as good as he remembered it. It wasn't possible. Only porn stars and people fresh out of prison had sex like that; he must have been making it up.
Yet one thrust inside of her, and he knew he hadn't made it up. The way she moved her body, like she was dancing underneath him. The way she said his name, like she was praying to him. Amazing. Better than he'd remembered, even.
And that had just been the first time. Slow and sweet was nice, but she'd fucked his brains out during round two, and the third, they'd gotten a noise complaint from the front desk.
She's better than anything ever was.
And at the end of all that, he'd still left. God, it had been hard. Looking at her, all sleepy and sexy, wrapped up in nothing but a sheet. Knowing that she was really seeing him, for the first time since he'd left her in Africa. Really hearing him, and even better, believing him.
Sure, he was doing what was right, leaving her to do her own thing, but that didn't make it any easier. And part of him had really hoped that she would stop him. That maybe she'd beg him to stay. That maybe their time apart had made her realize how much she truly cared about him. It had certainly done that for him.
But Lily was a smart woman, and Marc was in the way. For christ's sake, he'd almost gotten her killed. It would be best for everyone if he left, and she had known that, and she'd let him do the honorable thing. She really wasn't the woman he'd left in Africa. Their time apart hadn't sharpened her feelings for him – the sex had just been sex. Estranged friends getting reacquainted. She was complete on her own. She really didn't need him.
Knowing that didn't make it hurt any less.
Marc glanced at a clock. His flight didn't leave for several hours, but he didn't have anything better to do. He didn't want to run around Miami, not with the temptation to go back to her so strong. So he decided to head for security. He started taking off his watch when someone sat down in one of the seats behind him. There were lots of empty seats, why the occupant had to sit right behind him, he didn't know, but he wished they hadn't. He growled and tossed his watch into his bag. Mid-zip, though, it hit him like a ton of bricks.
Lavender. He was surrounded by the smell of lavender.
“One way ticket to Casablanca, huh? Awfully nostalgic of you, De Sant.”
He turned his head to the side and could see her out of the corner of his eye. She was actually two seats down from him. She looked ridiculously normal, it made him pause for a moment. She was wearing a lightweight North Face jacket, jeans, and had a hairband on, all of her hair scraped back and away from her face, pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. A pair of black sunglasses sat high up on her nose, and she sipped at a large coffee cup. He took a deep breath.
“Seemed just as good as anywhere else,” he sighed. She nodded.
“It was nice. I liked it there. We had good luck there,” she reminded him, and it was his turn to nod.
“That we did.”
“Nice this time of year, too.”
“Very nice.”
“Not too hot, not too cold.”
“Lily,” he interrupted her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I'm stopping you from being stupid.”
“Stupid? How am I being stupid?” he snapped, standing up and putting on his backpack. She sighed and put her cup on the empty seat next to her.
“Okay, stopping us from being stupid. Happy? C'mon, Marc. We can go to Casablanca when we're done,” she told him, standing up as well.
“I thought we were done,” he pointed out, walking for
ward. She matched him step for step.
“If you really believed that, you would've taken the diamonds,” she said, coming around the end of the chairs. Marc lengthened his stride and headed towards the security screening area.
“Just because we're done doesn't mean I'm an asshole. I don't want those stones. You're right, they're cursed,” he told her.
“Well, how about we split them?” she offered, almost jogging to keep up with him.
“I'm not trying to make a deal with you, Lily.”
“Obviously. I'm the one trying to make a deal,” she laughed. He glared at her, then moved into the roped off area that led to the metal detectors and scanners.
“I don't want to make a deal with you,” he replied, coming to the end of the line of people.
“What do you want then? I'm trying to talk to you, Marc,” she sounded exasperated.
I want you to want me like I want you.
It sounded stupid even to him.
“I don't want anything, Lily,” he sighed, finally turning towards her. She was on the outside of the ropes, looking back at him. “I just want you to finish what you started.”
“I want that, too,” she replied in a soft voice.
“Good. You have everything you need to accomplish it, so you can go do it,” he instructed her. She shook her head.
“But you won't be there,” she pointed out. He laughed.
“We talked about this. You don't need me, Lily.”
She paused, then pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were large as she stared back at him. His hotel room had been so dark, he hadn't gotten to see them in all their glory. Now he could; her bright green eyes, so large, finally looking at him without any anger or resentment. Finally seeing him.
“You're right,” she agreed. He glared for a second, then went to move forward as the line moved. She grabbed his arm, though, and held him place. “I don't even need Kingsley. But I like having him with me, he helps me.”
“That's good,” he growled, yanking his arm free. She just grabbed it again.
“And I don't need you. But I want you,” she stated bluntly.
Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) Page 17