For the Fight (Romantic Suspense) (Beyond Blood, #2)

by Nora Flite

  I hesitated, then gave up. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  “Still don't trust me?” he whispered. He was referencing our last meeting.

  I didn't want to be reminded—didn't need to be. I had a hard enough time forgetting that morning. “I feel like... you're leaving things out. You were gone for four days, Jacob. What did you do that whole time?”

  His lips curled at the sides. “It isn't important. Even if I wasn't saying everything, what would it matter? All you have to go on is what I've found so far. Right?”

  Of course he was right. “Fine,” I said, looking out at the parking lot. I didn't want to see his face. Not when I braced myself for my next question. “Did you... do something terrible?”

  The silence was long and stifling. I felt the molecules in my ears, the hairs on the backs of my arms. If I didn't see his eyes... maybe I could free myself of the burden. If he'd hurt someone—or done worse—to get me closer to my revenge, it would have been hard to handle. But I had goal. I'd accept anything if it got me closer to it.

  I told you. Sometimes, I'm a coward.

  I waited for Jacob to answer me, and I came close to glancing over and ruining the opportunity I had given him to lie. His voice was gentle, emotionless. “Yes. I did a few terrible things.”

  Fingers touched my elbow. Jumping, I spun to find him inches away from me. The intensity that hid under his surface was peeking at me through a thin curtain. “Marina,” he said in a throaty hush. “If I lie to you... lie for you, and the result is the same, will it matter?”

  Jesus, the structure of my spine was giving out. “I don't want you to lie,” I said. “I'm honestly scared of the truth. I'm worried about what you did.”

  The side of his lips went up, an invisible wire pulling it towards one ear. “You, scared? I can't believe that.” He still held my elbow, fingers doing nothing but feeling me. “Let me keep my secrets. Please. I prefer it that way.”

  “Secrets I can understand. If I quit probing, can you tell me this much? You really are planning to find this guy for me, right?”

  He ran a finger over his chest. “Cross my heart, I promise. You'll know his name soon enough.”

  There was a fierce urge building in me. I focused on pushing it down. Thinking of Kite, of how it could only hurt him if I gave in to this insane, yanking ache for his friend, gave me just enough strength. Another moment, I might have crumbled and kissed Jacob. Me, the one initiating it this time. I wasn't proud of my desire.

  Jacob spared me the conflict. Opening the car door, he eyed the sky. “It might rain, we should hurry.”

  Nodding, I followed him out. “Will you let Kite know where we are so he can meet us?”

  “He's sure to find us after he gets his own shopping done.”

  “You trust him to buy the right stuff for tonight?” I teased, hoping to erase my awkward mood. “Seems like you have to do everything for him.”

  Snorting, Jacob held the door for me so I could walk into the sprawling mall. “He's capable of dressing himself. I suggested he try to emulate me.” Tugging at his vest, Jacob preened. He was playing around, but I could have watched him adjusting the bits and bobs of his three piece suit for hours.

  Making fists, I dug my nails into my palms. Focus! “He told me earlier that you guys have been friends since he was nine.” Following him onto an escalator, I stared up at him.

  He spaced out, eventually looking down at me with a faded grin. “Has it really been that long?” Perching on a higher step, he gave me a view of his strong jaw and the tiny indent in his chin. Jacob could have been a model, or maybe an actor. Pretending to be someone else was definitely his strong suit.

  When we breached the third floor, and he guided me towards a far too fancy clothing store, my nerves took on a new direction. “You realize I can't go in there,” I said.

  “What? Why?”

  Patting my coat pockets, I then jiggled my purse. “I'm broke. I can't afford any of that stuff. Do you see any big, bold colored sales all over the windows? That's not my kind of store, Jacob.”

  Arching an eyebrow, he reached for my hand; I dodged him. “Relax, Marina. I'll take care of everything.”

  The pit in my belly swelled. “I can't let you buy me anything. It'll cost you a fortune.”

  He cocked his head, studying me as if I was a new breed of animal. “You want to go unnoticed tonight at this event, correct?”

  “Of course I—”

  “And,” he went on, “You want to find that man.”

  In my purse, the folded photo was an anchor. Jacob had me trapped in a way no other blackmail or threat could. “Yes,” I grumbled. “I want to find him.”

  Taking a mini bow, he motioned me towards the store. “Then, Miss Fidel, let me take you shopping.” It was a phrase I never imagined he would say to me.

  The last time I'd bought clothes for myself had been a quick trip to an outlet store because I'd finally worn through my best jean pants. I was the kind of girl that tended to own two pairs of anything, at most. A set of sneakers, some old, dusty heels for the rare date. That was me.

  Brushing into the store, I was swallowed up by the racks of opulent cloth and sparkling jewelry. The women who shopped here owned closets dedicated to just shoes. I was astounded, and frankly, unsettled.

  Jacob put a hand on my back, nudging me forward. I'd stopped on the threshold, frozen by indecision. “Come on,” he chuckled. “If you're uneasy, let's get this over with.”

  “It's just...” I waved a hand lamely. “Look at it all. That purse there costs more than my rent did!”

  “You shouldn't let that stop you from enjoying yourself.” When he nudged me again, his touch was closer to a caress between my shoulder blades than a push. “Just try something on, don't look at the price tags.”

  “Hah, there's a concept,” I sighed. Who didn't look at price tags when shopping? Needing to escape his too-delicious fingers scraping over my jacket, I strolled on quick heels down an aisle. The racks were thick with outfits. I glided my palms over each of the dresses, feeling the exquisite material. Green, black, maroon... the colors and cuts ran a spectrum. There were so many options.

  I wonder what Kite's favorite color is? He was like me, dressing in jeans and sneakers; casual. I didn't know what a man like him would prefer—what color pleased a hitman?

  Red, I thought with grim humor. But I'm doing that thing I shouldn't be, again. Wondering about fluff like this, it's pointless. Who cared what color a guy like Kite preferred? Peering covertly over my shoulder, I watched Jacob browsing further away. For that matter... What would HE like?

  Alright. I know. I'd just said this was a bad path to go down. But call it a thought experiment. If I was going to dress in something fancy and beautiful, which of these dresses would fit the bill and intrigue one of these men?

  Or both of them.

  Hah. Now THAT was a thought. A thought I didn't stick with because it made my belly do jumping jacks and turned my tongue to water. One of them was insane enough. I barely contained myself when Kite got a hold of me.

  I touched my lip, felt the old bite mark. No. The last thing I need is to turn these two against each other. I'd never had men fight over me, but I was sure, if I kept down this road where Jacob continued to tempt me, that it was inevitable. I had to stop that from happening.

  “Find anything?” he asked. For once, he hadn't startled me. I'd been spying on him and knew he was approaching.

  “Anything would work.” Grabbing the nearest outfit—a green evening gown—I held it up like it was a shield. “I'll just... try this one.”

  “Surely you should take a few more,” he said. Thumbing over the rack, he looped three hangers over his fingers. His smile went ear to ear. “I'll show you to the changing rooms.”

  He was so polite and insistent, he could have worked as a store employee. Jacob had an uncanny way of blending in, the world swallowing him up as if he always belonged. As if he wasn't capable of taking one of those hang
ers and slicing a throat with it.

  Pushing at the goosebumps on my arm, begging them to melt away, I followed him into the store. The changing rooms were quiet, a den where monsters could lurk. True, there were lights to brighten the space, but anywhere Jacob went... there was always a bit of darkness.

  Taking the dresses from him, I paused before the final corner that led to the stalls. This place was no better than his car, as far as being alone went. “I'll be right back,” I said, doing my best to imply that he should stay here and not try to follow me to the rooms.

  Jacob leaned on the wall, checking his watch. “Alright. Shout if you need anything.”

  What the hell could I need? Swallowing my heart, I ducked into the stall. The box gave me breathing room. I sat on the tiny bench inside and put my head between my knees. Jesus, what the hell is going on? I asked myself this a lot. There were too many levels to this craziness. In my purse, I had the photo of a man I wanted dead. Just feet away was one of the two people I'd hired to help me with this.

  And, tonight, those same men were taking me out to a fancy evening party to try and spot the guy I'd watched chop my family to bits.

  In my fingers, the dress material felt sickeningly smooth. It wasn't meant for me. None of this was. Marina Fidel was a fighter, someone who struggled and clawed and bit. Not... not someone who wore clothing that could buy food for several months.

  I covered my mouth, muffling my laugh. Was I more flustered over the shopping spree I'd been handed, than the idea of killing someone? Not just someone, I told myself, but it did no good. The truth was this took me further from my comfort zone than hiring two killers. Playing dress up was... it just wasn't me.

  So what am I? Blinking, I looked down at my hands; closed my fingers, flexed them so hard they cramped. Get it together. Think of this as going undercover. You're putting on these things so you can find that man. Not enjoy the luxury and fun.

  And then I knew. I was freaking out because doing this felt like a betrayal. Dancing around in pretty clothes was not part of my vengeance. In my head, I saw Cece's accusing eyes and flinched.

  She had been the one who liked to play dress up.

  Not me.

  Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to stand. I was too wrapped up in my guilt. I had to take control of my emotions, make myself see that what I was doing wasn't for fun or frivolous. If Jacob said this event was important, and that wearing these piles of money would get me inside, then I had to bite down my bile and do it.

  It was for a purpose. This was all part of my purpose.

  Steeling myself, I stripped down in the stall. In the mirror across from me, I caught sight of myself. There was a tiny mark on my shoulder, almost gone now, from Kite's teeth. My blush was furious.

  Sliding the green dress I'd picked over my head, I pushed all the pieces into place. Jacob had been right to hand me more options. This one was awful. The man had more taste than I did. Though, thinking of how he dressed—how put together he always was—it made sense.

  My hair fluffed when I removed the outfit, eyes grazing over the other dresses. Gingerly, I rubbed the hem of a gorgeous looking crimson gown. My smile was tight. Was I right? Do hitmen like the color red?

  Amused by the idea, and emboldened by thinking I understood something in all of this, I squeezed into the tight little number. It clung to my curves, hugged the swell of my ass and dipped in around my waist. I had to give Jacob credit; even I thought I looked good.

  Running fingers down my stomach, I noticed how second-skin the dress was. It was as if I had nothing on, nothing to save me from insistent touches and intentional legs that wanted to press against my own.

  My shiver went from scalp to knees. Maybe this wasn't so bad, after all.

  “Marina?”

  His voice echoed, rocketing in my skull. Jacob was in the room with me. “Uh, hang on,” I coughed. So fast, my blood had gone hot, sweat dancing down my back. I worked to get out of the dress, making sure my stall was locked. I doubted he'd randomly open my door, but...

  I still hurried.

  With burning cheeks, I redressed and grabbed the outfits. Pushing the door open revealed the hitman was standing just a foot away. If he'd crouched, he could have seen my feet in the stall.

  His eyebrows went up, his mouth following. “You were taking awhile, did everything fit?”

  Looking down at the dresses—of which I'd only tried on two—I nodded. “Yeah. Everything was fine.”

  “Which of them do you want?” Tilting his chin, he let his powder-blue eyes roll over me. Was he imagining me in the clothes? God, my heart. “You can have all of them, if you wish.”

  “No! Uh, no. I'll just take this red one.”

  Smoke whirled in his stare. It choked me up. “I'm glad. That one was my favorite.”

  I needed to get out of here. Everything about this place—this event—had my brain convulsing. The combination of being out of my element while also swept up in Jacob's wide smirks and hungry gaze had made me a pile of mush. This wasn't who I was. Getting distracted from my purpose was not me.

  “Let's buy this and find Kite,” I said, brushing past him.

  He followed me, tall enough that he could remain close and still bend in to talk. “Kite will be meeting us at his place. He finished shopping and left.”

  Blinking, I hoisted the dress. “Oh. I thought we were all going to get together.”

  “We will. It won't be long.” Jacob spoke with a coy edge. Shooting him another eyeful of suspicion, I set the dress on the counter. The woman who rang me up did it with speed and efficiency. I almost didn't see the price blinking, but I certainly saw Jacob passing her some crisp bills.

  Eight hundred dollars. My dress cost eight hundred dollars, and he'd paid in cash.

  “Where would we go for jewelery?” he asked, knocking me out of my daze.

  “Oh, just across the way,” the clerk said, pointing. “Hidden Stones, they're a wonderful shop. I'm sure they'd have something to go with this dress.” Her teeth were white as pure snow.

  I mimicked her, not hiding my sarcasm. “Thank you very much.” Fuck. Jewelery? I had the sudden paranoia that Jacob was trying to buy me. A dress for tonight made sense, but anything beyond that was... what? Him showing off? It was strange, and I wanted fresh air, but instead I found myself tailing after the crisply dressed man across the mall.

  He was a gentleman, carrying the shopping bag for me. That was good. I might have thrown it over the third floor bannister, watched it tumble down an escalator. This didn't feel like a mission, or subterfuge for tonight. This felt...

  This felt like a date.

  The threads holding my heart together began to fray. This was more perverse than the time Kite and I had fucked on top of dirt and brass shells, the time we'd lost control in my kitchen while I begged him to not melt my flesh in acid. If Jacob was trying to woo me, I didn't know how to fight back.

  “Hello!” A cheerful older woman faced us as we entered the shop. She swayed our way, instantly looking at Jacob's ensemble, the logo on the shopping bag. She could smell the money. “How can I help you two today?”

  Opening the bag, he showed her the contents. “We'd like to buy some jewelery to match this dress. What would you suggest?”

  Clasping her hands, she waggled her eyebrows at me. I didn't appreciate that. “Oh! I think I can find something to fit. Should I show you some of our more special items?”

  “Yes,” Jacob said.

  “No,” I spoke over him, our answers blurring together.

  The clerk stared at us, inching towards the glass case. “Ah. Well, let me grab a few things.”

  Turning, I leaned up on tip-toe and hissed into Jacob's ear. “We don't need anything 'special' for this! I don't need jewelery at all!”

  Tilting towards me, his breath tickled me and made me shiver. “We do, and you do.” Straightening, he grinned at the tray the woman held to him. “These look wonderful.”

  Putting the box on the c
ounter, she stepped back and waved us forward. I didn't move an inch, but Jacob scooped up something shiny. The necklace looked heavy, weighted with green gems and silver filigree. It was beautiful, no way should it have touched me.

  His shadow cloaked my face, lips tilting up in a smile. “Lift your hair,” he instructed.

  Breathing in tiny, tight bursts, I curled my hair up and exposed my neck. The backs of my eyeballs throbbed, his presence becoming more encompassing. This vibe of his was crushing me. By the time he swooped the necklace around, his fingers skimming the nape of my neck, my bones were dust. How was I still standing?

  “Look up,” he whispered against my temple.

  I did, spotting us in the mirror. Jacob hovered behind me, his fingers holding the clasp of the necklace. It made me into a queen. A queen who had a sinful, wicked crow on her shoulder with razor smiles and piercing blue eyes.

  I was staring into another world. A place where Jacob was allowed to be this close to me, and it was okay if I wore expensive things. A universe in a mirror where I could date a killer and be allowed to have fun.

  “It's beautiful,” I hushed, my own voice strange to me.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “It is.” Jacob didn't tear his attention from me the entire time. Was he even talking about the necklace?

  The clerk said something. I don't know what, but it shattered the moment. Jacob pulled away, handing the emerald necklace back. “Could we get matching earrings, please? We'll be taking this set.”

  The transaction was a blur. I saw the money exchanged, watched Jacob add the box to the dress bag. Then he was moving, taking my wrist to encourage me from the store. He held me like that all the way until we reached the evening air. In the parking lot, I found my resolve and tugged away. I think he frowned, but that was all.

  What do I do about this? How did I even explain what 'this' was? Jacob was digging into my mind, my heart, and forcing a space for himself. I'd barely had room for Kite in there, and he had broken through my defenses like a grenade.

  Jacob had taken his time, worming bit by bit. Now, his spikes were flexed and I feared ripping him out would kill me. This was going to end in someone—maybe all of us—getting hurt. Which was funny, when I mulled it over. I was sure these two hitmen had sordid plans for me when my revenge was completed—ideally, not before then.