by Mia Knight
“Here.” Lucifer slapped a can of Coke in front of her.
“Water, please.”
He rolled his eyes and went to the bartender and returned shortly with water. She fumbled with the cap and tipped it to her mouth. Her mouth was so dry, she felt as if she had a dozen cuts in her mouth, but that didn’t stop her from drinking. She set the empty bottle on the table and fought the urge to vomit.
Lucifer tapped his fingers on the table. “Roman’s taking his time.” He glanced at her. “You want chicken wings?”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, we make the best chicken wings on The Strip.”
Just the thought of eating something made her feel sick. “No, thank you.”
“Ah, this is unexpected.”
She was about to ask what he was talking about when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and saw Marcus walking toward her. He was dressed in a black on black suit, no tie. The sight of him sent a shockwave of agony through her entire being. He shouldn’t be here.
A man stood from a table. She saw a flash of steel and opened her mouth to yell, but there was no need. Marcus did some fancy move and slammed the knife into the man’s shoulder. He screeched and fell to his knees. His table companion leaped to his feet and rushed Marcus who managed to keep his feet during the tackle. His attacker reached for his leg, but Marcus grabbed the man’s head and twisted savagely. There was a sharp snap and the man went limp and dropped.
“Friend of yours?” Lucifer asked.
She couldn’t speak. It was Marcus as she had never seen him before. He might look like Pyre Casino’s COO with his hair perfectly styled, but the man approaching her held no resemblance to the man she thought she knew. His face was expressionless, green eyes glittering and cold. His fighting technique was quick, practical, brutal. She didn’t even know he knew how to fight. It was just another side of him she didn’t know existed. He rounded the table to reach her but stopped when Lucifer held up a hand.
“Brave of a fancy pants like yourself to come into my territory,” Lucifer said.
“I’ve been here before,” Marcus said.
He sounded completely in control, which shouldn’t surprise her. No matter the situation, one could always count on him to keep a cool head. She averted her eyes because the sight of him hurt more than anything she had been through since she saw him last.
Lucifer laughed. “I doubt that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes in Hell dressed like that.”
“The last time I was here, I left with Emmanuel Pyre.”
Lucifer’s tapping fingers stopped. She glanced at his face and saw the smile fade. She didn’t know what was going on, but Marcus’s words had a profound effect on Lucifer’s demeanor. His expression became inscrutable, and he examined Marcus with calculated interest rather than amusement.
“So you made it.”
She didn’t understand Lucifer’s quiet tone or the reason behind it.
“What brings you back to Hell?” Lucifer asked.
“You have something of mine.”
Marcus’s words made her jerk, but she didn’t acknowledge him.
“You must be Marcus,” Lucifer said and draped his arm on the back of her chair. “How intriguing. Carmen’s been annoyingly mum about you.” He gestured between them. “How do you two know each other?”
“I work with Gavin.”
Lucifer clapped twice. “Bravo, Marcus. Made something of yourself, have you? And with Gavin, no less. Impressive.” He glanced at Carmen before he clucked his tongue. “I sense trouble in paradise. I was expecting Roman, actually.”
“She’s mine.”
“Is that so?” Lucifer asked as a scream split the silence.
Angel rounded the corner in jeans and a white shirt flecked with blood. He had a stained six-inch knife at his side. He spotted them and started forward. Relief calmed her nausea. Angel would get her out of this mess and give her the time she needed to shore up her defenses before she had to deal with life again.
“You have two suitors?” Lucifer asked cattily and nudged her with his elbow. “Which one are you going to choose?”
“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed, and he grinned.
“You can try. I love challenges.”
“Carmen, are you all right?” Angel asked.
She nodded and focused on him instead of Marcus. “Yes.”
“Lucifer,” Angel growled. “What the fuck?”
“This isn’t my fault. You should be thanking me. I saved her,” Lucifer said.
“Thanks,” Marcus said in a voice that sounded like crushed glass. “Now give her to me.”
“Not without payment. I was hoping for Gavin, but I got you two instead.”
“What do you want?” Marcus asked.
Lucifer waved a vague hand. “Did either of you bring a present? No? How rude. I saved your princess’s life. The least you could do is bring me a fruit basket or a head or something.”
“Lucifer.” Marcus sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth.
“If Gavin came to fetch her, I would have renegotiated more than an annual visit, so what do you two have to offer?”
“What do you want?” Angel asked.
“Presents, a good fight …?”
“Whatever you want, consider it done,” Marcus said.
“You didn’t come the night Lyla was here. Why not?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
“But you can fight.” Lucifer stroked his beard. “You’re trained, probably by Gavin himself. I’d like to see you in a match.”
She went rigid. “No.” Marcus had never killed anyone in his life and only one winner emerged from the pit.
“Done,” Marcus said.
“No, Marcus!” He could die and for what?
“And what about you?” Lucifer asked Angel.
“Going in the pit suits me just fine,” Angel said with a shrug.
Lucifer winked at him. “Bitten by the bug, eh? I hear you’re practicing. Gavin used to be a regular patron. You’re welcome anytime.”
“Lucifer,” she began, but he put a massive paw over her mouth and squeezed.
“How about you two battle each other and then Carmen won’t have to choose?”
She gripped his thumb and twisted his wrist so that his arm bent at an odd angle, but she didn’t have the strength to hold him. Lucifer laughed while Marcus and Angel watched from several feet away.
“I’d rather stay in here with you than let them battle in the pit,” she snapped.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Lucifer uncoiled with ease and then tossed an arm over her shoulders. He leaned in close. Marcus took a step forward, but Angel grabbed his arm. She stared straight ahead as the devil nuzzled her bruised cheek. She suppressed a flinch as he whispered, “I’ve killed men for looking at me the wrong way. Don’t think I can’t kill you five different ways with one finger. I’m tempted to kill you just to see the looks on their faces when I pull your little heart from your chest and eat it in front of them.”
Her heart skipped. Duly noted. He wasn’t the king of Hell for nothing.
“Hmm.” Lucifer rested his chin on her shoulder as he regarded Angel and Marcus. “You both care for her, which is interesting. I have to admit, she’s entertaining.” He pressed his cheek to hers as if they were BFFs. “What say you, Carmen? What’s your life worth?”
“Nothing,” she whispered.
He clucked his tongue. “Don’t be so dreary. Two men came to your rescue.”
The silence stretched. None of them moved.
“I like favors,” Lucifer said quietly. “Marcus obviously doesn’t know the art of a bloody fight so maybe a favor is more appropriate in this case. You too,” he said to Angel. “I’ll call on you when I’m ready.”
“Fine,” Angel said and looked at her. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll see you soon,” Lucifer murmured and to Angel and Marcus, “She’s all yo
urs. May the best man win.”
She shrugged his arm off and got shakily to her feet. Marcus was in front of her before she could take a step. When he tried to take her arm, she jerked back, but he wouldn’t be denied. He grabbed a handful of her outfit and yanked her against him.
She shoved against his chest. “Let me go.”
He ignored her and picked her up in his arms. He moved swiftly, weaving through the tables. He was getting her out of here. She dropped her face on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore his familiar scent. His grip didn’t slacken as he climbed stairs. She heard a familiar beat and opened one eye. She caught a glimpse of a familiar bar. Before she could place it, he shouldered through a door into the night. She had lost a day. That didn’t seem possible. She shuddered as cold air penetrated through Lucifer’s thin clothes.
Marcus set her down beside his Audi. She glanced around and saw the unlit sign for The Pussycat, the bar where she killed the leader of the Black Vipers.
Marcus cupped her cheek. “Carmen, did he do anything to you?”
She jerked away. “Don’t touch me.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I want my mom.”
“She’s not here, remember? You told me she’s in Utah. We didn’t want to call her until we knew …” His voice trailed off, and then he said with more force, “Gavin and Lyla are on their way back from Bora Bora. Are you hurt?”
The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional destruction Lucifer wrought. She was hanging on by a thread. She needed somewhere quiet and safe to recoup, and it wasn’t with Marcus. His presence wreaked havoc on her control, which was paper thin and getting more tenuous by the second. There was a maelstrom of emotions inside her, trying to break free. She needed to get away from him. Over his shoulder, she spotted Angel leaning against the Bugatti, watching them. The knife was nowhere in sight.
“One of the employees at the Red Diamond found Mickey’s body in the parking lot,” Angel said, and Marcus tensed. “Kiki reviewed the footage, saw you were attacked and drugged and called me. Lucifer made sure to stay out of frame, so we couldn’t identify him. We didn’t know if you had been taken by another gang.” Angel’s eyes were piercing as he asked, “Did Lucifer touch you, baby?”
His gentle voice made her eyes burn with tears. She shook her head and held herself more tightly. The one time she was in a really bad bind, Mom and Lyla were out of town. Her life fucking sucked.
Angel pushed off the Bugatti and held out a hand. “You want to come with me?”
Marcus caged her against the car. “She’s coming with me,” he said without turning around.
She shook her head and pushed against his chest. She tried to talk, but her throat was closing up as a surge of panic swelled in her chest.
“She doesn’t want you, Fletcher,” Angel said.
“We had a misunderstanding,” Marcus countered.
Angel sneered. “A misunderstanding that caused her to go to the strip club where she was attacked?” His eyes gleamed. “A misunderstanding that led to her being in my bed?”
28
Marcus disappeared. One second, he was pinning her against the car, and the next, she was staring at his back, and Angel was on the ground at his feet. Angel leaped up and slammed his fist into his jaw. Marcus staggered back and then rammed him into the Bugatti and kneed him in the abdomen.
“Stop it!” she shouted.
Angel elbowed his face, which didn’t faze him at all. She reached them as Marcus knocked Angel’s head against the car. She slapped his back.
“Marcus, stop!”
He paused long enough for Angel to get in another blow. Marcus shook himself, turned, and picked her up. He carried her to his car and placed her in the passenger seat. He slammed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. She looked out the window at Angel who sat in his car, watching her as he wiped blood from his lip. Holy shit.
She stared straight ahead as Marcus drove. The only sound in the car was his harsh breathing. What the fuck was that? What did he care if she hopped in Angel’s bed?
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said.
His voice was back to being cool and emotionless.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You were drugged, and you’re shaking, pale, and bruised. You need to go to the hospital.”
“I don’t have any broken bones.”
“How do you know?”
“Lucifer had someone examine me.”
“He didn’t touch you?”
“Only to admire my bruises,” she said tonelessly. She wanted to believe it was just a bad dream, but it was all frighteningly real. “You shouldn’t have come for me.”
He marched into Hell and now owed Lucifer a fucking favor. Did he know what that meant? Lucifer could make him do anything.
“You think I would wait around after I heard you were in Hell?” His voice began to shred, allowing some emotion to come through, but she just wasn’t sure what.
“You should’ve let Angel handle it.”
The tension in the car was palpable. She turned her face away and shut him out. She was so drained, she could barely think straight. She was riding headlong toward a breakdown, and there was no safe place in sight.
When the car slowed, she opened her eyes as Marcus pulled into his driveway.
“Take me to a hotel,” she said.
“We’re going to talk.”
“What for? We’re done.”
She was relieved to see her Aston in the garage. She shuffled to her car and stopped when Marcus leaned against it.
“Get in the house,” he said.
She stood there for a full minute, gauging how much energy she had before she gave in. She walked into the living room and stopped. Being here reignited the pain that sent her into destruction mode last night. The recycled pieces from her old life taunted her from every corner of the room. She poured her heart and soul into decorating this house in the hopes of recreating what she had with Vinny, and it had been an epic fail. She needed to get out of here. She started for the front door. She looked like an escapee from an asylum but walking down the street and getting help from a stranger was preferable to facing Marcus. She might not survive it.
“Carmen.”
She ignored him and focused on the exit until he blocked her way. She stumbled to a halt. “Get out of my way.”
“We’re going to talk.”
He reached for her, and she backed away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Look at me.”
She couldn’t. The sight of him hurt so fucking bad, she felt nauseous. She could handle being beaten and drugged. She could handle Lyla and her PTSD, her mother grieving her father, and the possibility of being Nora’s guardian when Lyla was in Hell. She could handle anything except being rejected by someone she loved. The pain was unbearable.
“You’re hurt. Let me help you,” he said.
No, she wouldn’t let him do anything else for her. It was time to stop looking to men to fix her. Lucifer was right. In the end, everyone chose themselves, and she had to do the same. She didn’t have much left.
“Tell me what you need,” he said.
“I need you to let me go.”
“I can’t.”
She let out a harsh, slightly hysterical laugh. “You already have.”
“I know you’re angry. The bartender told me what Khalid said. I should have listened to you before I—”
Her shaky control snapped. Something raw and searing and deadly spread through her. She’d taken so many hits in the past twenty-four hours, emotional and physical, and she was done. The life she’d been rebuilding had been ripped away as surely as the illusion of the great love she had shared with Vinny. If Marcus wanted a showdown, she would give him one. She would prove him right and show him what a fucking savage she was.
She grabbed the closest object, a delicate vase, and hurled it at the wall. It shattered, just like her heart.
> “This is what you don’t need in your perfect, orderly life, isn’t it?” She grabbed a picture frame and threw it. The sound of breaking glass was immensely satisfying.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m a crazy bitch! Everyone warned you about me; you should have listened!”
She couldn’t stand seeing everything looking so perfect. She grabbed an abstract wooden sculpture and tossed that too. It didn’t break, which pissed her off. She kicked over a mirror end table to compensate and was appeased by the loud smash. She was about to upend a vase of flowers she bought earlier in the week when Marcus grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Carmen, stop.”
She struggled like a wild thing. He didn’t want to hurt her, which she used to her advantage. She didn’t fight fair, and when his grip loosened, she broke free. She stumbled into his office and faced an ocean painting she had commissioned for him. She had decorated his office with her dreams for their future. She had to destroy the evidence of her naiveté. She snatched a pair of scissors from the desk and turned back to the painting.
“Carmen!”
Marcus stopped her inches from the swirling blue waters. Her swollen hands couldn’t get a good grip on the scissors as he fought her for them. She wasn’t deterred. She released her weapon and went for the canvas with her fists. He picked her up. She managed to land a solid kick that made the painting shudder, but it stayed mounted on the wall.
“Fuck!” she bellowed.
He carried her kicking and screaming into the bedroom. He pinned her arms to her sides and pulled her tight against his chest. She fought him with all she had, kicking his shins, stomping his feet, but he didn’t release her.
“Let me go!”
“Listen to me.”
“Fuck you! Let go of me!”
She cursed, threatened, and struggled, but it made no difference. When she had nothing left, she went limp and dropped her head forward. She panted as tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.