by Elle Luckett
My only concern was how many lives I'd upended in the process.
I dozed in and out after that, waking up in the car, and then in a massive bed with black and gray sheets in a room shrouded with the warm Louisiana sun. It took me a while to blink away all the fuzziness that had cocooned me in its grasp, but when it faded, I realized I was in Mark's bed.
Not one of his guest rooms.
Not the bed he'd watched me in before.
This was his bedroom.
I could smell Mark on the sheets and see him in every touch of the design, even though I really couldn't explain how or why I knew. I rolled to push my face into his pillow and groaned as the whole world shuddered and spun violently.
“You awake?”
“Were you watching me sleep?” I asked into the pillow, unable to move again.
“Not this time.”
I laughed, the sound choking off as my head pulsed. I turned my head to the side and found him crouched by the bed. “I called one of the doctors the club uses to come and check on you. You have a mild concussion. He left some heavy-duty ibuprofen to help clear the pain and stop the swelling.”
“You are stubborn.”
“Your sister green-lighted and made the executive decision.”
“Of course, she did.”
Mark chuckled, the humor not reaching his eyes. The line signifying his frown seemed permanently fused between his brows, and before I thought what I was doing, I reached out and ran my finger along them, watching as it relaxed a little under my touch. “You're worried.”
“Unavoidable when someone you care about is threatened.”
I met his eyes and held them. “I know the feeling.”
“I'm going to kiss you.”
“Why are you announcing it?”
“Because I need you to stop me if it's too much for your head.”
“What if I don't care?”
Mark smiled, the tips of his fingers pushing loose strands of my hair back. “Remind yourself that I do.”
The first real smile curved my lips, even as the fear of Elijah being so close curled up in my belly like soured milk. I was comforted knowing I wasn't fighting this alone anymore, but the guilt of endangering people I was quickly coming to care about tainted the goodness of it all. The heat and warmth inside of me was now sharp-edged.
Mark kissed me, holding back even as his tongue slipped between my lips and pushed his way deeper inside, exploring, tasting, and needful. It was light enough to stay in my mind, but deep enough for the world and all my troubles to fade to black around the edges.
I didn't know what would come next. When it came to Elijah, anything was possible, but Mark made me feel safe. I just worried it would put him in the line of fire with a big, fat target on his back.
Chapter Fifteen
I could hear voices in the house when I woke up with remnants of a headache from hell. The world had stopped jerking around me, and when I blinked my eyes open, the little white spots had dissipated, leaving my normal vision to explore the dimly lit room as the sound of the cicadas filtered in from outside.
I contemplated moving for a moment and decided against it until I heard Lane's voice in her shrill, I'm freaked out but pretending to be in control voice. I wanted to ease her panic, but I also needed a moment to get myself back together before I faced her.
I took my time in the shower absorbing the hot water raining down over me while my mind went over the words now imprinted on my eyelids. The searing edges of panic were with me like a constant companion, needling me when I tried to find a way to keep every connection I'd made for myself in New Orleans without risk to them. Watching Elijah attack my mother's boyfriend was a warning of what he was capable of, and he'd been in control of himself. Angry, yes, but that cool head of calculation had shown no loss of his senses. Elijah's eyes had been on me, watching for my reaction, feeding on my fear.
“You think Lane would wait while I climbed in there and washed you?” Mark asked, pulling the glass door out of his way and stepping in behind me.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” I asked with a hoarse voice as his lips brushed over my wet shoulder.
“This?” he asked, his hands closing around my ribs. “This is purely selfish. You were naked, and I wanted to touch you.”
I fell back against his chest, my eyes sliding closed as the water beat down on us both. I still jumped and winced as his hands danced over my scars, but I wasn't as ashamed of them as I had been. When he brushed his fingers over my breasts and rolled my nipples, I let out a small whimper of sound.
“I want to be inside you.” He spoke in a growl that landed in the core of me with sparks.
“I want you inside of me.”
“Lane would kill me.”
“You're afraid of Lane?” I asked, pushing my ass against his erection.
“Today? Yes.” He chuckled, one hand sliding from my breast to between my legs where it traversed the slick flesh to my clit, circling and teasing. Mark moved slowly, but I registered every one of his muscles along with the smooth slide of his flesh against mine as he bent his body, his thick dick sliding between my folds, creating friction that made us both groan.
“Don't stop.”
“If I venture inside that sweet, hot—”
“Jesus Christ, are you two having sex in there?” Lane's voice cut in, muffled by the door and falling of the water.
Mark's hand rose to my mouth as he pushed inside me, catching my yip of surprise and groan of pleasure. His hot breath rolled over the back of my neck before he nipped the skin, his shush for me to be quiet lost in the sensations that spread out over my flesh like an electrical current.
“Lane, give us five minutes. I'm just helping her in the shower.”
“You're fucking in the shower, you mean.”
“We weren't.”
“Oh, you fucking animals. I'll be downstairs.”
Mark laughed as the staccato clip of her heels faded into the ambient sounds, but I just let out another groan of pleasure, my hands landing against the white subway tile as I rolled my hips and took all of him inside me. Pressing a hand against my back, Mark bent me forward, running his warm palm up my spine until he was gripping the back of my neck.
“You're so eager, little bird.”
“Mark.”
He moved, angling his hips until his erection rode a slow line against a part of my body I had no idea existed, making my legs go weak. My breath stuttered and shuddered, while my body broke out in goosebumps.
“I can't draw this out as much as I want to.” He covered my back with his chest, keeping him deep inside me. He was everywhere. Every part of me attuned to the sensations he was creating without much effort. “I just need you to feel me inside you. I want you to think about this every time you think about leaving.”
“Mark.”
“I will keep you safe.”
Mark withdrew and thrust back inside me, punctuating his point. My fingers clawed at the tile, my head falling, chin pressed against my chest, as the first of the tears fell with the spray of water.
“Zara.”
I didn't respond, even as he thrust again, making a moan fall from my lips and tangle with a sob.
With my silence, everything stopped.
Mark froze, his hands on my body as his breath left him in a reaction I couldn't read. Before I had time to open my mouth and apologize, he'd pulled out of me, my body was spinning, and my back landed against the chilled tile while his eyes studied me.
“Are you crying?”
“I'm sorry.”
“For what, exactly?”
I pressed my palm over my eyes. I was cutting myself off from the confusion in the pools of steel gray scrutiny. I wasn't even sure why I was crying, so I wasn't sure how to explain it.
“I. Will. Keep. You. Safe,” Mark ground out, and a sob fell from me again.
“And who will keep you safe?” I finally choked out, sliding down the tile wall.
�
��Oh, baby.” His arms slid around me as he pulled me to my feet and against his broad chest. Dropping my hand, I rested my forehead against his shoulder and let him guide me from the shower and into the bathroom, moving with him as he lifted me to sit on the counter by his sink.
Mark didn't stop me from crying. He let me purge myself, his strong arms caging me in on the counter, his forehead against mine as the tears fell. I wasn’t sure how long I cried for or how long he waited for me to bleed myself dry, but he stayed, his endless patience a comfort I had no idea I'd needed.
“I'm sorry,” fell from my lips again as he pulled a tissue free and pressed it into my hand.
“You need to stop with that shit.”
I wiped my nose, running the heels of my hands over my cheeks to brush away the last of the tears.
“Crying like an idiot?” I asked in a mousy voice that felt wrong.
“Apologizing for your feelings.” He gripped my chin and angled my face so our eyes met. “You have no reason to be sorry.”
“I just had a meltdown while you were fucking me.”
“Do I look offended, injured, or sexually deprived?”
“It was weird.”
“It was normal.” A small smirk curled the corner of his mouth. “Not for me, but the situation, dickhead.”
I grinned at him but closed my eyes and shook my head. “He's never going to leave me alone, is he?”
“I think he has a small obsession with my girl, but I think we can fix that.”
My heart fluttered with the mention of being his girl. Curling my hand around his wrist as he held my chin up, I studied those unfathomable eyes of his. “I can't put you and Lane in danger.”
He huffed out another indignant breath, but it felt more affectionate than annoyed.
“I think you need to get dressed and come downstairs.” Mark stepped back, still cradling my chin in his grip. “Lane and Thomas aren't any fun when they're impatient and annoyed.”
“Lane and Thomas?”
Mark nodded and pressed his lips against mine lightly before letting me go. “Get dressed and come down when you're ready.”
He stepped away, grabbing a fluffy white towel from a heated rack before draping it over my shoulders. “You want me to stay?”
I shook my head and watched as he retreated, wrapping a towel around his hips while rubbing the water from his hair with his palms. He glanced over his shoulder at me before he left, a smile on his lips just for me. Then he was gone, and I let myself crumble all over again.
Lane flung herself around me when I finally ventured downstairs, and I leaned into her comforting embrace, my wet hair falling against her stark white blouse and holding my attention for too long before she pushed back, holding me at arm's length.
“You idiot.”
“Lane.” The warning came from Thomas, rather than Mark, as I would have expected. She blinked slowly like logic was finally settling in, and she shook her head before she pulled me against her again.
“I didn't mean that.”
“Yeah, you did,” I huffed out, my arms winding around her. “And it was deserved.”
“You said this was a possibility, right?” Lane asked into my hair.
“I just never considered he'd actually do it and seeing the note…”
“Yeah, read the note,” Lane growled. “He should be the one who's afraid.”
“Lane, I've seen what he did to Boyd—what he's capable of.”
“He's outweighed and outclassed here.”
“Meeting him head-on isn't going to stop him,” I implored, finally pulling back and including the two men in the discussion. I'd tried that on more than one occasion and fighting back had been two of the four times I'd ended up in ER having fallen down the stairs we didn't have. “He will hurt you to get to me, Lane, and he won't blink at trying to hurt Mark for touching what he considers his.”
“Mark can look after himself.” The confidence in Lane's voice made me meet her gaze.
“And he'd have to go through me to get to Lane,” Thomas followed, making my eyes flicker between him and Mark, who had one eyebrow raised in question. “But we're not going to let it get that far. I don't like games like this, and I like abusive, manipulative men even less. So, we won't be playing his cat and mouse game. With your permission, I would like to call in a couple of New Orleans finest to help us put an end to this for good.”
“They won't put him away for long.”
“This is New Orleans, bebe.” Thomas spread his arms and smiled. “It's all about who you know. He doesn't know anyone here, which means we have the upper hand.”
“And if you're wrong?”
“Oh, he's never wrong.” Lane chuckled. “There's just one tiny little thing we need from you to pull this off.”
“No.” Mark stepped forward, freezing when Thomas reached out to stop him.
I had a feeling I wasn't going to like this thing.
Chapter Sixteen
I offered a wave to the security guard as I headed into the apartment building alone. My ears were still ringing with Mark's complaints as I rode the elevator to our floor and made my way down the quiet corridor, regretting my agreement to do this with every step I took.
Lane and Thomas assured Mark and me over and over again that they had everything set up to ensure my safety beyond everything else. They'd just needed me to be the bait, which made sense considering I was what Elijah was here for, yet that iced blade of fear was ever-present against my spine.
I was terrified. Something Lane had no problem reminding me I'd been conditioned for. Also something Mark used to argue his point as to why this could all go so wrong.
Fear was unpredictable.
The apartment was dark and quiet when I stepped inside, the usual glow of downtown New Orleans filtering through the large windows and offering a gleam over the space that stopped it from being pitch black.
Spooked, I flipped on every switch on the wall and studied every corner the light bathed in its path.
I was alone.
I was also freaking out.
My heart was galloping in my chest so quickly, it was beginning to hurt as it echoed in my ears, regret rising to grab hold of its hands and skip around me.
“No,” I spoke the word aloud just to make sure I was still capable of it. It was still there, one syllable, rolling off the tongue, and yet I never seemed to use the damn thing.
To add insult to injury, now I was here, I wasn't even sure what I was supposed to do in my role as bait.
Gazing around the room, I headed to the couch and picked up the remote for the TV, flipping the thing on and dropping the volume enough so that it gave me company while allowing me to hear some of the ambient noise that would give away some asshole sneaking in.
I played three episodes of one of Lane's weird reality shows before the boredom lulled me into a trance-like doze. Part of me felt as though I was aware, but I must have dropped off because the sudden sound of haggard breath from behind the couch was new, and only the incandescence of the television now lit the room.
The unexpected entrance was right on track for Elijah. Somehow, he always knew the moment I was at my most vulnerable.
“How did you find me?” I asked the darkened room, my heart hammering so hard I could feel the rush of blood in my veins.
Panic wasn't good or useful, but that logic had no place in my body where claws were already tearing at my flesh.
“You're predictable, Zee Zee,” he almost sang as he rose from behind the couch and leaned over the back so I could see him. His face twisted with the rage I had come to recognize over our time together. As fear entered, it took everything in me not to react and roll from the couch away from him.
“You need to leave. It's been over for almost two years. You can't keep doing this, Elijah.”
Ignoring me, Elijah sniffed the air, his face twisted with fury.
“You have to know that I can smell that motherfucker on you. Are you trying to make me j
ealous?”
“Elijah. Go home.”
“You used to scream my name like I heard you scream his. You were my little whore.”
He reached out to touch me, but I couldn't allow that. The moment my skin began to crawl, the memories would follow, and I would fall apart and give in to the panic that was starting to constrict me. Rolling to my feet, I put as much distance as possible between us and tried to catch my breath.
“Leave me alone.”
“Leave me alone,” he mimicked, his voice pitched high. “You belong to me, Zee Zee, and I ain't leaving here without you.” He slithered over the back of the couch like a snake and made himself comfortable. Arms spread along the back as he stared me down as a hawk would stare at a rabbit. “I might actually like this new fight in you. It makes me hard.” He dropped a hand and stroked himself through his worn jeans, a smirk on his lips as he studied my reaction.
Everything in me ran cold at the sight of his hand stroking. He'd always been a misogynistic pig, but something about this version of him was different. He was more obvious and open about his intentions than he'd ever been in the past. Even his use of my nickname consistently was new and calculated—yet another tool in his arsenal against me.
“You disgust me.” The sound came from my throat as a whisper, rendering it useless, and only serving to amuse him further.
“Be careful. It's just you and me, bitch, and I will beat the insolence out of you.”
Lane's voice eased into my mind as a slow tilt made me dizzy, the words she'd drilled into me before I'd left the car suddenly repeating on maximum volume. Let him talk himself into a confession. You won't have to say much, and don't let your emotions control your reactions. Stay away from him, run if you have to, and don't give him any reason to attack. The last part was tricky as my breathing had often made him attack me, but her voice gave me the courage I'd needed to beat back the panic attack for now. It also reminded me that Thomas had set up cameras in the living area to try and catch him if he broke in.