Tempting Marcus

by Jan Graham

  The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He’d finish what they’d started, so both of them could get their heads back on the mission. No more distractions and flirting until it was over. Unless the sex was outstanding, then they might have more of a distraction than before.

  “No, I can’t stay.” Beth appeared in the doorway, visibly upset. “I need to get home to the Highlands. It’s Dad.”

  Marcus rushed over, pulling her into his arms as she burst into tears. Beth offered no other information as she sobbed against his chest. He signaled to Syn to give them privacy. With a curt nod, his expression filled with concern, Syn left them alone.

  As he cradled Beth in his arms, Marcus wondered about the timing of this interruption. It gave him pause to think, doubts resurfacing. He firmly believed everything happened for a reason, there was no such thing as coincidence. Perhaps this hiccup was a moment of reprieve. A chance to stop Beth and himself from taking a step they’d both end up regretting.

  Chapter Four

  Beth’s mind was in overdrive as she sped down the freeway in the Lexus racing coupe she’d borrowed from Marcus. Her father was in surgery, the rest of her family already at the hospital waiting for news on his condition. Forty-five minutes of the two-hour drive remained, the sleek vehicle hugging the road, catapulting her quickly toward an unwanted and inconvenient drama.

  The concern Marcus showed about the situation was genuine. He’d offered to drive her, she’d declined, his presence at the hospital something neither of them was ready to explain. Beth agreed to the use of his car, the time saved in getting her back home and to her vehicle meant she was on the road sooner than later. It also offered a failsafe against the unlikely event she was already under surveillance by Oshimara’s Aussie operatives. The chances of anyone following her were slim, but Marcus refused to take any unnecessary risks in regard to the mission. Traveling alone was risk enough in the current climate.

  His parting kiss was passionate, heartfelt, her body pushed firmly against the dark red exterior of the car, his erection evidence of his unquenched desire.

  “I know the timing sucks, but I have to go,” she’d whispered the words when he’d released her lips, his arms reluctantly freeing her from an embrace she never wanted to end.

  He replied with a guttural, “I know” before clearing his throat as he eased the door open and allowed her access to the car. He didn’t say anymore, the concern flooding his expression ensured he didn’t need to.

  Beth believed in the idea it’s all in the timing. If you timed your actions and decisions perfectly, the world was your oyster. She reconsidered this notion as the miles drifted away beneath her. How badly had time messed up? Her three worlds were on a collision course, and Beth couldn’t see how things would work out. Everything was in jeopardy—stepping into a relationship with Marcus, the mission, and most importantly, her father.

  Three worlds. Marcus, the job, and her family. Most people battled to keep one afloat. She’d segregated her life out of necessity. Her job dictated secrecy even from her family. Marcus and what she envisaged happening with him remained secondary to the work they did. Her first lesson, the moment Marcus employed her, was learning work always came first. The mission took priority over everything else. Over the past four years that idea was the one truth she based her world on. Until now. Until the night her father—thrown off his motorbike in a tragic accident—landed near death’s door.

  As she’d organized to leave, Marcus hinted time was of the essence and Beth couldn’t help but wonder how much time she had before he’d call her back to the fold, insisting the job required her attention. He was compassionate and understanding with her, still, she knew he’d be framing her tragedy in relation to the job they were currently undertaking. Beth calculated she’d have three days maximum to be away, then she’d have no choice but to steel herself and finish the mission. Consequences be damned.

  The day Beth stepped into the shadows of an unreal world, she’d set her life to one side, accepting the limitations working with an elite group of mercenaries imposed. Until now, real life hadn’t proven an obstacle. Yes, her mother complained she didn’t see enough of her, and her father worried she worked too much, but Beth always managed to appease their concerns. This situation was different. Her family needed her support, unconditional attention in the event the worst-case scenario occurred, and her dad didn’t make it. Beth longed to have the time to spend with her family, regardless of tonight’s outcome. Unfortunately, limits applied in a Marcus-controlled environment.

  Beth checked the rearview mirror, examining her completely dry eyes. She’d cried initially, hearing the news about the accident but blamed that more on the fact she’d just experienced an orgasm at the command of a man she desired more than any other. Emotions couldn’t help bubbling to the surface under those circumstances. Her one regret, Syn was witness to the vulnerability she’d displayed. Tears were too girly for the team she worked with—at least in her opinion. Over the years, she’d steeled herself for this life of adrenaline-charged missions, following the lead of her colleagues who grew harder with each risk they endured.

  They all sacrificed love, family, and often, their humanity to get the job done. Hardened to the point of cold indifference in relation to receiving or inflicting physical pain and remaining emotionless in the face of death which often surrounded them. Good and evil became the black and white flagship by which they all judged the world. The good survived, hopefully, evil didn’t. It was thwarted, incarcerated, or killed.

  The men on her team who’d been in the job for decades or longer appeared to have lost the capacity for real emotion. Beth saw herself heading down the same road, a long highway with no offramps to offer rest and reprieve from the constant journey. The emotional desensitization needed for the job slowly chipped away at her. How many times had Beth told herself to ignore the ugly side of life and just do her job? Stuffing down her feelings became a daily occurrence and even as she drove to her father’s side, numbness settled over her and she prayed the detachment would break once she saw her mother and siblings.

  Despite the drawbacks and dangers, Beth loved her work. A person’s career shouldn’t break them emotionally, but that was the danger she faced. It was a menace Marcus and the rest of the team battled along with her.

  Beth wanted the best of all worlds—family, work and a relationship with Marcus. Until a few hours ago, she believed she could have it. As she pulled the Lexus into the nearly deserted hospital parking lot in her hometown, she wondered whether that was true. Tonight made her rethink everything. Was Marcus irredeemable, incapable of letting his emotions free to really claim her as his own? Would her family relations suffer because of her continued absence in their lives? Would she become one of the emotionally inept team she surrounded herself with? Was it already too late for her to have a regular life?

  Catching sight of her mother and younger sisters sitting nervously in the surgery waiting area, Beth inhaled deeply as she approached. Their reddened eyes and pale demeanors caused her to swallow the lump suddenly filling her throat. As the surgeon entered the room, making eye contact with her mother, the gravity of his expression hit Beth like a missile. She noticed the tremor in her arm as she reached out to shake his hand. A grateful sigh burst from her chest as he delivered the news her dad would be okay, and tears of relief spilled over her cheeks. Maybe it wasn’t too late for any of them.

  * * * *

  “You look like shit.” Marcus glanced up from his beer to see the tall, blonde guy with heavily built frame standing next to him. Nik didn’t smile as he continued. “And beer at this hour means it must have been a bad night, Boss.”

  Marcus scoffed. A bad night didn’t describe it. Beth refused his offer to drive her to the Highlands-based hospital where her father was in a stable but still critical condition after being involved in a motorbike accident. Unable to sleep until he heard that she’d arrived safely, he’d considered every possible reason why he shou
ldn’t take Beth as his own. Unfortunately, that list outweighed the take her and consequences be damned list by a mile. The indecision was killing him. The ramification of telling Beth he’d made a mistake didn’t bode well with him nor did the feeling he’d lose her during this mission if they went ahead and consummated a relationship he doubted would survive their lifestyle.

  “I’ve had better,” Marcus stated, putting his beer down and eyeballing Nik. “Now, tell me what’s happening and make sure it’s something I can fix because I’ve had zero luck with last night’s issue.”

  Dawn could be one of his favorite times of day. If Marcus was sitting near a quiet fishing hole, walking along the beach, or doing anything else for that matter, he’d love it. Dawn meetings usually meant trouble though, something he didn’t need right now.

  “Just before I left Japan, Mr. Oshimara found a mole who’s now dead. Apparently, the guy was an undercover police detective from one of Tokyo’s biggest organized crime units. From what I’ve heard, these guys don’t make mistakes yet Oshimara sniffed him out. The upshot for us is the guy’s now nervous. He’s questioning every sale, going over every import and export looking for more snitches. It’s a madhouse over there, Marcus. I’m getting reports every day of more guys murdered simply because Oshimara suspects they aren’t above board. He’s even killed his second in command for recruiting the undercover cop in the first place.”

  Marcus knew a nervous crime lord meant a dangerous one. The stakes had just risen for him and Beth in the slave trade game they played, especially Beth. She’d be with the gang for anywhere up to a week with only Nik as protection, and even then, Nik couldn’t always be with her for fear of giving them both away. Marcus didn’t like it. It was time to reconsider their options. Without assurance the mission would be a success, Marcus wasn’t interested in continuing. Until now, this operation showed all the signs of achieving its goal. The information Nik just provided could very well be a game changer.

  “What’s Charlton’s take on all this?” Marcus asked.

  Nigel Charlton found and collected Australian women Mr. Oshimara ordered and arranged shipment to wherever they needed to go. When Marcus informed Oshimara he was back in Australia on business, Charlton became Marcus’ Australian contact in relation to his purchase of Bethany. It was the best of both worlds in relation to the mission they were on—Oshimara brokered the deal with Marcus when he lived undercover as a businessman over there, and Nigel was conducting the search and finalizing the kidnapping here in Australia. The evidence he and his team collected would take out the head of the smuggling ring on both continents.

  “Charlton says he isn’t worried, he told Oshimara the Aussie end of the operation is sound and there aren’t any spies down here. He’s a cocky bastard,” Nik replied.

  “Do you think he’s confident enough in his crew not to go looking for a stooge to off, just so he can prove to Oshimara he’s cleaned house?” Marcus asked.

  “He hasn’t mentioned it at this stage. I’ve heard no rumblings from the men about Nigel asking stupid questions, and let me tell you, he would ask them,” Nik laughed. “He’s not the sharpest crayon in the box. I have no idea how he’s risen this far in the organization.”

  Marcus’ stomach let out a loud growl, reminding him he hadn’t eaten for over twelve hours and explaining how one light beer could give him a head spin. He caught the eye of the waitress and ordered two of the pub's big breakfast specials.

  “I assume one of those is for me?” Nik grinned when Marcus nodded in reply.

  The food at The Drovers Run was better than the beer, especially at dawn. Marcus chatted with Nik as they waited for their meal. The discussion wasn’t on specifics of the mission but rather how his operative was coping being undercover. Marcus knew from firsthand experience the isolation could mess with your head. He’d been there and done that, first as a cop and again, when he was in the military. Being able to stay in touch with your crew was vital in remaining sane, and Nik had been undercover for nearly a year. Contact with the team during that time was minimal, to say the least, it needed to be that way for his cover to be believable.

  “I’ll be glad when it’s over, Boss,” Nik stated. “I’ve seen shit you wouldn’t believe and the women they’ve trafficked, not just from here but all over. It’s been hard to watch and not intervene. I know where they all are though. Well most of them. I’ve kept track.”

  Nik’s statement sent a shiver of alarm through Marcus. If you weren’t careful, being undercover could send you one of either two ways. You became like the criminals you worked with or once the work was over, you turned vigilante, developing a hero complex, convinced you could save the world. If Nik believed it was his role to save the women he’d observed being trafficked, then that was a real concern.

  “You know you can’t go after them once this is over, Nik. That’s a job for the authorities in whichever country the women are in, not us,” Marcus made the statement guardedly, watching Nik’s response thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, I know,” Nik remained relaxed and nodded as he spoke.

  His composed response offered Marcus some relief, the fact Nik fiddled with a cross Marcus had never seen before didn’t. The item looked slightly feminine, the chain short around Nik’s neck. It was a piece of jewelry his operative didn’t wear before he’d gone away, and Marcus doubted Nik would have placed jewelry shopping high on his list of activities to do while undercover.

  “I want you to make time to chat with Kat Maclean before you go back—debrief. The shit you’ve encountered can mess with a man’s head.”

  Kat Maclean was the best trauma counselor he knew. A medically trained psychiatrist Marcus first met when he was in the army. Due to her army background, she’d decided to specialize in trauma care. Post-traumatic stress disorder was her specialty and helping people overcome the syndrome was her passion. He’d recruited her to work for him many years ago, and she knew the team well.

  “I can do that.” Nik shoved a mouthful of greasy bacon and sausage into his mouth and nodded. “This is good, much better than rice and seaweed.”

  Marcus laughed. Nik was a meat eater, like him, protein making up most of his diet. The fact he’d been living on an Asian menu for nearly a year must have almost killed the guy. They ate in silence, Marcus savoring every mouthful and assuming Nik was doing the same.

  “So, you’ll let me know if you hear anything else about Oshimara, and you’ll have a visit with Kat while you’re here, yeah?” Nik had already finished his breakfast and was standing to leave first as planned. Marcus would have a coffee then make tracks for home.

  “All good, Boss. I’ll be in touch.” Nik placed a firm hand on his shoulder and leaned in. “And just to reassure you, I know I can’t save the list of three-hundred-and-eight women I have. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “As I said Nik, we can’t save everyone.” Nik’s smiling response surprised Marcus, his reply leaving him shocked.

  “Except Sylvie.” Nik reached up and touched the cross at his neck again. “I’m going to get her whether you like it or not.”

  Chapter Five

  Incompetents. How did I end up surrounding myself with stupid incompetents? Nigel Charlton looked at the two men in question. So far, the other men who worked for him hadn’t lost anyone which meant the jury was still out on their abilities but these two—fucking inadequate wastes of space.

  “What do you mean you’ve lost her?” Nigel screamed.

  They couldn’t just lose anyone, no they had to lose the prime target, not that he realized she was the prime target until two days ago. Bethany, the dark-haired girl from The Dungeon, was his client’s first choice. Yes, Marcus would take either of the other girls, but he wouldn’t pay extra like he’d promised he would for this one.

  “I mean we can’t find her, Mr. Charlton,” Remo answered.

  “Yeah, she’s just gone, Boss,” Cliff added as if his statement would clarify the situation.

  �
�I know what we’ve lost her means, you idiots. What I don’t understand is how? My orders were unequivocal. Keep your eyes on her at all times.” Nigel could feel his blood pressure increasing. “All the girls were on twenty-four-hour surveillance until my client got back to me. And surprise, surprise, thanks to you two cretins, the one he wants the most is now missing.”

  Personally, Nigel wouldn’t have chosen this particular little whore. She seemed too sassy for his liking. He preferred his women demure, the sort who obeyed his orders and didn’t argue. A sedate slut who did as she was told. Clearly, Mr. Belvoir liked the feisty sort.

  “It wasn’t our fault, we did like you asked,” Remo countered. “She went into her apartment, we sat outside waiting for her, but she never came out.”

  “Yeah, and when we went to the apartment for a look around, she wasn’t inside either,” Cliff added.

  Nigel pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to relieve some of the pressure building up in his head. This meeting was the stuff of migraines or strokes, perhaps even an aneurysm. Nigel looked around the room. He could put someone else on finding the Reid girl, but who else could he trust to do it. At least Remo and Cliff didn’t question him when he gave an order unlike some of the other men he had working for him. Nigel hated having an order questioned, by anyone.

  “This is the one our client wants!” Nigel waved the picture of Bethany in their faces as he yelled. “I told him there would be no problem securing her, and I pride myself on being a man of my word.

  Nigel almost scoffed at his own words. He didn’t give a fuck if he kept his word or not, and under normal circumstances, he’d tell the client no-can-do. This situation was different. The client was willing to pay an extra fifty-thousand for the tart from The Dungeon, something he’d discussed with Nigel, exclusively. With that sort of offer, Nigel could skim the fifty for himself, plus the commission Mr. Oshimara paid, so payday was looking good.