Lifting her hands, Naomi swiped the tears from her face. They were distracting, and unnecessary. She swallowed hard, tucking her heartbreak over the loss of the baby into the recesses of her mind. It was an emotional liability, a dangerous detraction from her goal. She needed to focus now. Back into her dance studio. Back into training, twice a day, as soon as she was medically cleared. Back to the gun range, where she would shoot until her fingers were numb and her eardrums were shattered, or she got past the silly aversion to firing a weapon. Whichever came first.
Naomi was willing, and able – diligence, focus, agility – to push her mind and body as far as they could go, for this one last mission. Win or lose, live or die, it didn’t matter. She was tired, and it was time to end this, once and for all.
This time… she was going to war, and anybody that wasn’t with her… was against her.
part two.
Seven.
Damien Wolfe had seen and done so much over the years that very little surprised him anymore. He wasn’t very surprised that Terry King had raided his home. He was even less surprised that he’d made an attempt to abduct Naomi. And hell, Noelle’s treachery had honestly been expected.
But… she’d shot at him.
She’d aimed a gun in his direction and pulled the fucking trigger.
He didn’t know if he was still alive because she had bad aim, or because Terry had snatched her by the arm as she pulled the trigger, altering the trajectory of the bullet. He didn’t know if she intended to kill him, wound him, or just make it look like she was trying to do either one. He was alive now, but if Noelle was really no longer on his side… how long would that be the case?
Though he thought about it often, Damien hadn’t yet decided if the fact he was still alive was a good thing or not. It had been a month since the invasion of his home. His injuries had been treated, he’d been moved into a better room, bathed, given fresh clothes, decent food, and a TV, none of which surprised him. It was slick, and exactly something he would do himself, keeping an enemy healthy and well-fed while you ensured their demise. It was amusing, quite honestly. It wasn’t like he would starve himself, or hang himself with the bed sheets. He had help, and it was coming. He could feel it.
Three people in this world, that was all.
Three people, with the means, motive, and wherewithal to do whatever it took to save his ass. One, because of love. The other, because of revenge. The third, because of money.
Noelle… was out, as far as he concerned. She’d always been volatile, emotional, but then again, most beautiful women were. He couldn’t hold that against her, but… still. Shooting at him was taking shit way too far. He couldn’t count on her.
So then, there were two.
He nodded to himself as he turned toward the window, the barred glass the only visual indication that he was currently imprisoned. Where exactly, he wasn’t sure, since his view was nothing but thick trees, and sky. He wasn’t worried though. Worry wasn’t something he “did”. Worry was for weaklings. And “weakling” wasn’t a word that described Damien at all.
Patient, however, was.
&
Patience had never been a strong trait of Naomi’s.
She was meticulous, long-suffering, a check and double check kind of girl when it came to planning most missions, but when it came to her personal life… no. Not at all.
Because of her profession, leisure time and recreation were often pushed to the side. There were very few things that Naomi enjoyed, and got to do on a regular basis, when she was busy breaking into things and committing grand larceny. For that reason, when she did get a chance to do something she truly loved, she took great offense at anything or anyone that kept her from it.
That was especially true now.
A month had passed since the miscarriage, and she was beyond ready to be back at the gym. She’d felt ready after the first week – if she ignored the physical pain, which she was used to doing anyway – but had indulged Dr. Morris by agreeing to wait another two weeks. After that, it had been Marcus on her back, insisting she wasn’t ready yet, pulling guilt trips that he was worried for her, and trying to plant the fear that Terry King would make an attempt on her again, if she made herself so vulnerable.
He didn’t seem to understand that was exactly what she wanted.
That month since the raid had been quiet. Almost too quiet.
No… definitely too quiet. If she had to guess, she would assume they were being lured into a false sense of security, but who knew? Maybe Terry King was dead. Maybe he and Wolfe had called a truce, agreed to let the innocents live in peace. Maybe this, maybe that, Naomi didn’t know. But what she did know was that she was sick of living in fear, and from now on…. She just wouldn’t do it.
She and Marcus were on the same page about who needed to die, and why, but they were at odds at how that was supposed happen. He preferred to stay in the shadows and prepare. She preferred to not fucking hide. He insisted that they needed a plan, reminded her of the importance of patience. She insisted that she’d been patient about as long as she planned to. There was no baby to consider anymore, no worries of being too physical and causing harm, no hopes and dreams and sweet yellow nurseries swimming in her head.
Diligence. Focus. Agility.
That’s what she was all about now.
She was going back to her gym. She was going back to her baby ballerinas. And she dared anybody to try and stop her.
“Madame Mimi!!”
A big smile, the kind of smile that hadn’t crossed her face in a long while, sprang up as her students crowded around her. She’d emailed the parents the week before – leaving off Marcus’s sister, who was in another country with her husband anyway – to have the girls ready for her to be back, and they had delivered.
She only allowed herself a few moments to bask in the energy and attention of the class before she called them to order, ushering them into their places at the barre.
“Are we ready?” she asked, fighting hard to keep her expression serious. When ten bunned, puffed, cornrowed and twisted little heads nodded in her direction, she gave in to another smile. “Okay then. Let’s see what you’ve remembered.”
&
“Must you be so damned difficult?”
“Isn’t that what attracted you to me in the first place?”
Naomi grinned as she turned toward Marcus, who was draped in the doorway of her classroom. She’d done two classes that day, and she was honestly exhausted, but still, she felt amazing after two hours spent basking in the youthful energy of her baby ballerinas. He stepped in, closing the door behind him. She pulled herself up from her stretched position on the floor, hoping Marcus wouldn’t notice her fatigue as he approached, with his hands pushed into his pockets.
“I won’t confirm or deny that.” Naomi inhaled deep as Marcus wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close. “This is the happiest I’ve seen you look in… hell… ever,” he chuckled, grabbing her chin to turn her face up toward his.
“Whatever, Agent Calloway,” she whispered against his lips, pushing her hands underneath his tee shirt to brush her fingers over the ridges of his stomach. She moaned a little when he grabbed her at the waist, pulling her against his hardness as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Warmth rushed through her, settling between her thighs as he kissed her, backing her against the mirrored wall of the classroom.
Shivering against the cool glass at her back, Naomi opened her eyes as Marcus drew himself away, just enough to end their kiss. “Agent Calloway?” he murmured, smirking as his fingers drifted to the ties keeping her ballet skirt at her waist. “We’re back on that now?”
Naomi smiled, then bit her lip as she pushed herself up on her toes to speak into his ear. “Only when I’m about to do something very, very bad.”
“It has definitely not been six weeks yet, Jolie Voleuse. Your body needs time to heal, so… can’t be too bad.”
She grabbed his belt. “Our mouths work… and so d
o our hands.” She lifted an eyebrow, licked her lips as she felt him grow even harder.
“True,” he said, moving his hands to cup her ass. “But if we do that, we both know we’re gonna want to do more. Gonna want to do it all.” Naomi let out a derisive shot of air through her teeth, then dropped her fingers from his belt, shying away from his touch as she tried to move out of his arms. “Hey,” he said, confusion lacing his voice as he held her in place. “What, you’re pissed now? Is what I said not the truth?”
“If you say so, Marcus. But you know Dr. Morris cleared me for sex anyway.” She snapped those words out harshly, then batted his hands away from her. “So, to me, it just sounds like an excuse not to touch me.”
Marcus drew his head back like she’d slapped him, then moved to catch her by the arm as she bent to snatch up a hairbow one of the girls had left behind on the floor.
“Naomi,” he said, his voice edged with something like anger. “Why in the hell would you say something like that?”
“Because it’s true!” She tore herself away from him, angrily swiping tears from her eyes as she slapped at the switch to turn off the lights. “Leave me the fuck alone,” she snapped. “And I mean it.”
She left him standing there looking flabbergasted as she stormed out, heading straight to the back office she and Quentin shared. She rolled her eyes at several patrons who were so obviously FBI it wasn’t even funny, but increased security was one of the conditions she’d had to agree to if she wanted to come back.
Naomi shoved through the door of the office, and rolled her eyes at Quentin and Renata too, both huddled at the computer. She headed straight for the private bathroom, where she stripped out of her ballet clothes and climbed into the shower, turning it on as hot as she could stand. She closed her eyes and let it stream over her, not even being careful not to wet her hair, because she was just that damned… ugh!
All day, she’d felt amazing. Had kept herself squarely focused on the thrill and excitement of teaching her class again, of being back in the gym atmosphere, of leaving the house like the normal person she’d pretended to be for so many years. And in less than a minute, it had been torn down.
“Hey.”
She flinched at the sound of Marcus’ voice in the room with her, so close it seemed like he was right beside her. And when she opened her eyes, he was, looking at her from the other side of the glass enclosure.
“I told you to leave me alone,” she said, and then turned her back to him, to pull her body wash from the built in shelf. He said nothing, but his presence never left the room. She wasn’t surprised at all when a few moments later, she felt his hands against her skin.
Marcus turned her toward him with his hands at her waist, and the wide expanse of his shoulders blocked the spray, keeping water out of her face. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. One moment you’re damn near vibrating with happiness, and the next… you’re like this. What’s up?”
“Would you please just leave me be?”
“No.” Naomi let out a frustrated growl, and tried to move around him, but Marcus held her, even against her slippery skin, keeping her in place. “You’re not about to do this shit right now Naomi,” he said, turning her face so he could look in her eyes. “You’re not about to push me away. Tell me what the fuck is happening right now.”
She blinked, hard, and let out a shuddering breath, trying and failing to will tears not to stream down her already wet face. “I….” Naomi clamped her mouth closed as a sob built in her throat, and shook her head.
“Naomi… Just tell me, baby. Please.”
Her chest clenched.
The fact that he was actually pleading with her, the twinge of desperation his voice held…
“You haven’t touched me,” she said, finally, licking her lips as she met his gaze. “Not since… you know. You’ve held me, yeah. We’ve kissed, and cuddled, but you haven’t touched me. And… I don’t know how to interpret that.”
Marcus shook his head. “What… do you think I don’t want you? Cause…” he looked down, pointedly, drawing her eyes to where his erection was bridging the gap between them.
“So then what is it?” Inwardly, she cringed over how whiny she sounded, not at all like the former badass she’d promised herself she would be. But… if there were ever a moment, any such thing as an appropriate person to be whiny with, this was it. He was the person.
“I….” Marcus groaned, then dropped his head, letting out a harsh, heavy sigh before he looked up to meet her eyes again. “I want you to be able to get pregnant again.”
Those words made Naomi’s heart seem to stop in her chest, and the sound of the water in the shower because muffled, like it was coming through a tunnel.
Pregnant again?
Marcus grabbed her hands, bringing them up to his lips, kissing them before he continued. “When all of this is over – and it will be over, I want us to be able to try again. I want back what we lost, and shit, Naomi… I just … this probably sounds idiotic, but I don’t want to take any chances. I was there when Dr. Morris cleared you, remember? She said it was technically fine, but she would prefer we wait. And… I would prefer we wait too. Just to be safe. Please tell me you understand that.”
A bubble of relief burst in Naomi’s chest, and she nodded. So many reasons for his physical distance had run through her head, that he was bored with her, that she was too much drama, that he wasn’t attracted to her anymore after the changes the pregnancy had made to her body. That he held a fear of hurting her had never crossed Naomi’s mind.
“I’m sorry for the confusion,” he murmured in her ear as he pulled her into his arms. “I didn’t even consider that you might think… it was something bad. Why would you think it was something bad?”
Naomi shrugged, burrowing her face against his wet skin. “Because I’m an emotional wreck. With everything else that’s been going on, I… I don’t know. Automatically assumed the worst case scenario. But that’s really not fair to you, I guess.”
“Nah,” Marcus chuckled. “Not really. But I get it. We’re honestly still getting to know each other, when you think about it. I mean… I love you, without a doubt. But it hasn’t even been a year ago that we first met.”
She sucked her teeth. “Longest year of my life. With enough drama for a lifetime.”
“But,” he said, reaching to tip her face up towards his. “Not… all bad… right?”
Naomi met his gaze, then pushed her hands up and over his chest to drape over his shoulders. “Nope. Definitely not all.”
She closed her eyes again as he lowered his lips to hers, moaning when his hands moved to her breasts.
“Marcus,” she breathed, grabbing his wrists. “Don’t tease me. Please.”
He grinned. “I’m not. Like you said… our hands and mouths work, right?”
Naomi didn’t get an opportunity to respond before he took her mouth again, plunging his tongue between her lips. She whimpered as his fingers closed around her breasts again, squeezing and tugging at her nipples, giving them the attention she’d been craving for weeks.
He kissed her like he’d been starving for her, sucking and biting her lips, playing and wrestling with her tongue. The kiss was rough, and messy, and passionate and perfect. While his capture of her mouth was anything but, his hands were gentle as they moved between her legs. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze as his fingers moved over her wet skin, dipping inside of her for lubrication before bringing them out to massage her clit.
“Is this what you needed?” he asked, moving his mouth to her ear to suck and bite her there too.
No, she thought. What she needed was the hard erection that was currently pressed between them as he stroked her with his hand, but for now, this was a good substitute.
She whimpered out a yes as she rocked against his fingers, gripping his wet shoulders to give herself some leverage. He pushed his tongue into her mouth again, moving it with the rhythm set by his fingers. Her body clenched arou
nd his fingers as tightness built in her core, urging him deeper, to stroke her faster, harder.
He turned them to the side, allowing the hot spray to hit them both as he pressed his thumb to her clit. Naomi reached between them, gripping him in one hand, using firm pressure as she began to stroke him up and down.
“Fuck, Naomi,” he growled in her ear, then took her mouth for another kiss. The pressure between her legs was so tight she might explode, but it would be a good, good way to go. It turned into a race, harder, slower, deeper, faster, to see who could make the other come first.
Marcus won.
The orgasm hit Naomi with force, washing over her in wave after wave of bliss. Ears ringing and staticky, eyes clamped shut, toe-curling bliss. It wasn’t until she felt warmth dripping down her hands, even though the shower water had gone cold, that she realized Marcus had come too.
“Now,” he growled, flipping off the water. “I need to take you home, so we can put our mouths to use.”
Eight.
He’d married wrong.
Several times a month, he realized this with a heavy sigh, but Paula did have her uses. Paramount among those – and honestly the only one that mattered enough to keep her around – was the fact that because he’d endured her for so long, twenty-five years at this point, she made him look like a family man.
His kids certainly didn’t “need” her anymore, at least not in the regular sense. They were grown now. They could go to her house if they wanted to talk to her. And she was still an attractive woman, but the hoops she thought he would jump through to get some ass out of her… please.
But – and he rarely admitted this out loud anymore unless it was for show, or as a weapon – he did love her, despite the fact she regularly ran his nerves into the ground. Like now.
Save Me If You Can Page 9