by Nana Malone
He sighed. “That was the job. I don’t know what to tell you. That’s what it was. I never intended to hurt you. Once I realized you didn’t know any of the rules, I tried to be as gentle as I could be. I didn’t want you to be hurt.”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Right. We’ve been through this. We’re not rehashing it again.”
“I did care—”
At the corner of one of the buildings we were watching, I saw someone hopping down onto a stack of milk crates on the side of the building. I grabbed my binoculars. “We have a runner. Tall, pale, white-blond hair. He’s making a beeline. Addie, do you see him?” Why was he running? You only ran if you were scared. And you were only scared for one reason.
Like someone told you to be scared.
He’d been warned. But by who?
“He’s headed west.”
“Copy. On my way.” Then I shouted to Tyler. “Get me a fucking ID on him.”
“Already sent the image in. Move your ass.” The binoculars were already plugged into our tech. All imagery captured was already being sent to The Firm. We’d have something in mere moments.
I jumped out of the car, and Tyler followed. I could hear his heavy footfalls behind mine. I was lighter and a better long-distance runner, but he was stronger and faster, and he caught me easily as we chased the guy down. In our earpieces, Addie muttered, “He’s going north now.”
When we came up the side of one of the warehouses, Tyler indicated he was going left.
So I went right. Weapon out, I was ready. Adrenaline poured through my veins in a steady, drumming flutter, heightening all my senses to the bitter acrid odor in the air. It smelled like dust and turpentine. I shifted on my feet, trying to stay calm and read the shift of the air around me.
There was a rustling noise on my left, and I immediately went that way, listening for the answering footfall. That was when I felt the whoosh of air to my right. I ducked easily, and came up with an uppercut, hitting the man right under his jaw. His head snapped back, and I tapped my mic. “I have him, north entrance.”
When I lunged for him, he jammed his elbow back, catching me on my cheekbone. I staggered back, wincing at the pain.
He swung again, and I blocked him and kneed him in the nuts. But the son of a bitch adjusted his leg to provide some cover for his nuts because he stayed upright.
He gave me a nasty grin and landed a kick straight in my midsection. I tightened my core, but it wasn’t enough, and all the air whooshed out of me as I went flying three feet backward.
I landed in a pile of boxes, and he took off.
Addie’s voice rang in my comms as she said, “He’s running. Headed east.”
Tyler’s voice followed hers. “I have an ID. Mads McLean. Weapons broker. Likely Stannis’s contact.” Why the fuck didn’t Tyler even sound winded?
You’re okay. Get the hell up.
But Christ, a kick to the sternum really knocked out your air. When I rolled over and jumped back on my feet, I started running again. Hobbling was more like it.
Mads threw things in my path, but Tyler came running in from the other direction, and behind me, I could hear Addie approaching from the left as well.
Mads was caught. There was no way out.
But suddenly he whirled around and came running right at me, forcing my steps to falter so I wouldn’t run right into him.
“You have nowhere to go. Give up. Work with us and we’ll go easy—”
He barreled for me, grabbing me, and taking me down. As we rolled, he tried to aim punches, which I blocked. One of them landed though, right above the cheek where he’d gotten me before with the elbow. Right outside the socket of my eye. And I knew, I knew that was going to be a black eye.
I blocked one hand, landing a punch of my own and snapping his head back again. But then he came back with a massive open-palmed clap over my ears and set them ringing. A wave of nausea hit me hard, and the world spun. The dingy warehouse concrete was so cold it felt like ice beneath my body. And someone was tilting it, shaking it about. My head lolled from side to side. I could only watch in horror as Mads pulled a gun, aimed at one of my team members, and fired.
Tyler and Addie dove for cover. I could hear Addie yelling, “Fuck. Is she shot Tyler?”
Tyler’s voice was uneven. Why did he sound like that? “I can’t see her.”
And then Mads McLean’s weight was gone, and suddenly I could breathe. Sort of. God, when I tried to lift my head, that loud clanging sound rolled through me again.
I heard more gunfire, but not as close this time. And then all I heard were Tyler’s shouted commands. “You stay there, I’m going after him.”
Several seconds later, there were fingers palpating all over my body. I winced as they came near my sternum and then my face.
Addie said, “I want to do a quick check to make sure he didn’t hit anything vitally important internally. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to have a nasty bruise though.”
“Fuck, please God, tell me he didn’t get away.”
But Tyler’s singular footsteps coming back told me what I already knew. Mads was gone. I leaned my head back on the cool concrete. “Fuck.”
Tyler knelt down next to me. “She okay?”
Addie’s voice was tense. “We’re going to have to get her checked out when we’re back. But yeah, I think she’s fine.”
His voice was soft as he spoke to me. “I’m sorry, Lyra. I didn’t catch him. But he did drop this.”
Why did his voice sound gentle? That wasn’t what I needed. I needed this mission wrapped up so my life could return back to some normalcy. Because with Stannis Prochenko and his cronies gone, Tyler would be gone. And then my life would be my own again.
“What did he drop?”
He held up a heavy metallic card of some sort. On the back was a time scrawled in gold metallic ink and the initials, S. P.
I pushed to my feet and took the charcoal-colored metal card from him. It was a calling card for the Venice in the City Bacchanal. “We need an invite to this.” The Bacchanal was one of the most exclusive parties in all of Los Angeles. Mads was our ticket to that weapon and our ticket to Stannis. If they were going to be there, so were we. We could get a two for one.
Chapter 7
Marcus
I was watching as Lyra climbed out of a cab. She was moving gingerly. As if she’d been hurt. I focused the camera lens on her face, and that’s when I saw it… the bruising along the left side of her cheek. Like she’d been hit. Son of a bloody bitch. I put my binoculars away and marched to my door. I yanked it open just as she climbed the stairs to the landing. “Hey.”
She startled and blinked rapidly. “Oh, Marcus. Hi.”
I frowned at her, then indicated her eye. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing. I was taking a kickboxing class with my best friend, Addie. Some idiot was overzealous. I got clipped.”
She was lying. Okay, not exactly lying, but she was leaving something out. She’d told me just enough of the truth to make it believable, but what was she hiding? She obviously had other aches and pains and was moving gingerly, so why lie to me?
Nothing in her files indicated a history of abuse. so maybe she was telling the truth? But there was something about the way she hesitated with her smile that said she was holding something back from me.
Was it the bloke from earlier? She clearly hadn’t been happy to see him. But they worked together, and when would he have had an opportunity to hurt her? Unless he was the one with the boxing gloves.
I was going to have to find out more about him.
Just like a stalker.
Had he hurt her before? There had been no police reports, but maybe she’d never reported anything.
The app had only matched us a month ago, and her file didn’t mention anything about who she’d been with before that, but my instincts screamed this had something to do with the bloke at work.
One way or another I’d find out. And
then I was going to hurt whoever had put his hands on her.
“Are you up for some food?” I asked her casually, knowing full well she was going to try and weasel out of it.
“You sure are persistent.” She made her way to the top of the stairs, wincing lightly as she did. “All I need right now is a hot bath. No more kickboxing for me.”
I should let it go. She was clearly wiped out. But if she wasn’t going to tell me what the hell happened to her, I was going to figure it out myself. But at least I could feed her first.
“Yes, you clearly look like you need a hot bath, but you also need some food, and I can tell you don’t feel like cooking it yourself. Besides, it’ll give us a chance to continue our conversation from this morning.”
Seeing her like that stirred a protective instinct I’d thought to be long dead. That thing I just reserved for my family, my brother, my mates… I felt it toward her.
Let’s not get carried away with ourselves. You have only known her for a month.
I couldn’t help it though.
“Thank you, but honestly, all I want to do is sleep.” Her stomach betrayed her and growled so loudly it echoed down the hallway.
“Oh, so you’re not hungry at all?”
“That’s not fair. You can’t use my grumbling stomach against me.”
I shrugged. “Everything is fair. Go have a bath. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
“I don’t want you going to any trouble. I think I have some yogurt and some frozen meals.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You need real food. And it just so happens I cooked. So you go get in the bath. I’ll be right over.”
“You’re very annoying.” A deep furrow had formed between her brows. “Why can’t you just ignore me?”
“First of all, if you think I can ignore you after we kissed, you undersell yourself. Secondly, if you think I can ignore you when you look so beat up and haggard, you underestimate my chivalry.”
“Isn’t chivalry dead?”
“Probably, yeah, if you’re dealing with a Neanderthal. Go, get in the tub. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
Back in my flat, I carved out a portion of my mother’s lasagna recipe, putting it in a container and placing the rest of it in the freezer. I also grabbed the bottle of red I had in the wine fridge.
I didn’t know much about vintage wines. But Rhodes, for all his bluster and cockiness, the bastard knew wines. He would always go on and on about which one was the best and which ones to try. It had sort of rubbed off on me, so I always made it a point to keep my wine fridge full, hoping that I would somehow become someone totally different and finally learn to give a fuck about great wines. But no. I still didn’t give a fuck. I still preferred a pint.
But Lyra looked like she could use a glass or two.
As I traipsed across the hall to Lyra’s flat, I found Mrs. Washington in the hallway, and she gave me a broad grin. “It’s so nice to see you and Lyra getting along so well.”
I grinned at her. “Just being neighborly, Mrs. Washington.” The saucy old broad knew exactly what I was up to.
She sniffed the air. “That’s lasagna, young man. You bring my mail up for me, bring me my heavy packages, but never, not even once, have you brought me lasagna.”
I chuckled softly. “Mrs. Washington, if I thought you could stomach my cooking, I’d bake you some.”
Her gaze travelled over me appreciatively, and I bit back a chuckle. “Oh, I’m willing to try, young man.”
I made a mental note of that and gave her a wave as she stepped into her flat.
I knocked on Lyra’s door, and it took her a moment to answer. When she did, she was in sweatpants. Her curls were wrapped up in a scarf, her face devoid of makeup, and I clenched my jaw at the up-close view of her bruise.
Jesus. From the looks of it, she was sore all over as well.
I kept my mouth shut though, and instead held up the container and the wine. “You have to eat. I know you’re famished.”
She blinked in surprise. “What in the world?” Her nose twitched as the scent of the garlic hit her. “Is this homemade?”
“Yes. And don’t tell me you don’t need it and you’re just going to get a doughnut because that’s bullshit. I had more than enough. So when you’re done with the container, just bring it back, okay?”
“You made lasagna?” She practically tore the container out of my hands.
“Yes. Matter of fact I did.”
“You can cook?”
I laughed and ran my hand through my hair. “Yes. I regularly get hungry, so it was bound to happen.”
“Oh my God, you’re killing me, you know that?”
I was pleased by how surprised she seemed. “And just how am I doing that? By bringing you food? Trust me, it’s not poisonous. And from the sound of it, you’re hungry.”
She stared at the wine. “And you brought me wine too.”
I held up the bottle of wine and grinned. “You looked like you’d had a hell of a day. Under normal circumstances, I’d suggest we eat together. But you look wiped.”
She sagged in relief. “So you noticed.”
“I did.”
Lyra leaned against her door frame as she gnawed on a piece of garlic bread. “Jesus, why are you tempting me?”
I grinned at that and then shoved my hands in my pockets. “You seem like you want to be tempted.”
She shook her head. “I was serious when I said I did not have time for a relationship.”
“Well, aren’t you presumptuous? Who said I want a relationship? I was willing to let you use me for my body.”
She coughed a laugh, and there was almost a hysterical hint to it. “Jesus, Marcus, why now? Why are you this now? Why weren’t you this earlier?”
“I don’t know what—” When she lifted her gaze to mine, I saw there were tears shining in her eyes, and I couldn’t help myself. I closed the gap between us and pulled her in and wrapped my arms around her. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re fine.”
No. This was not fine. This was dangerous.
You want to take care of her. If you brought danger to her doorstep, you might need to leave. Don’t get too close.
But still, I couldn’t get my arms to unlock. “Hey, you’re okay. Seems like you’ve had a long couple of days.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She sighed into my chest where she’d buried her head.
“Look, I know you’re not sure if we’re a thing, but if you want to talk, I’m here.”
She blinked up at me, the tears brimming. “You’re too nice.”
I flashed a grin then. “Most people wouldn’t say that about me.”
“Well, most people are idiots.”
“Maybe.”
“They mostly aren’t paying attention anyway. Marcus, I really wish to God that I could do this. I want to do this. But I can’t.”
“Hey, relax. This isn’t anything. This is just me bringing a neighbor dinner because she looked like she needed it.”
She shifted her head up to mine, and then her gaze slipped to my lips. The tightening happened in my gut first and then hit my dick. The longer she stared, the longer every system in my body started to shut down all functions, making sure the blood flow was focused where it wanted to go.
Fuck, I wanted her.
I wanted her lips underneath mine. I wanted her making that sweet little moaning sound. Instead, I stopped. I forced my attention to her forehead, not her mouth. Not on those giant doe eyes, begging me to do the thing that I shouldn’t. Because I shouldn’t want to do this. I shouldn’t even be there. I should be looking for all avenues away from this. And despite the twitching protestations of my dick, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead then stepped back. “Well, enjoy your night. I’ll see you around, Lyra.”
She blinked at me rapidly, and then frowned. “Oh, okay. Um, thank you?”
Her eyes were glazed, and her lips slightly parted. One flickering gaze at her chest told me
that her nipples were erect and her breathing was shallow. She wanted me.
Yeah, well, join the party.
But it wasn’t safe for her. And until I could make it safe, I probably needed to keep my distance.
So I turned around and forced myself to walk back down the hallway and let myself into my flat, locking the door behind me.
* * *
Marcus
Lyra Wilkinson smelled like sunshine and coconuts.
I couldn’t ignore the mental picture of her smile, her eyes. And her fucking scent… I could swear I smelled it everywhere. Even when I was sleeping, my brain insisted on dreaming of her. Thinking about her. That little moan she made when I kissed her.
Bloody hell. I was toast.
When I went to bed, my brain had one dream locked down. Lyra in my arms on the night of our date, my lips on hers, her moaning. But this time, instead of that interruption by Stannis Prochenko, I kept kissing her. Kept stroking my tongue over hers until her knees were weak and she was gasping in my arms. Her arms looped around me, and that kiss became so much more than just a kiss. It became a promise. All from that moan.
In my delusional dream, I’d meant to be a perfect gentleman and deposit her at her door, but she let me in, and that kiss turned into so much more. My lips at her jaw, along her neck, and then lower. The tops of her breasts spilling out of her dress. Me brushing my stubble against her tender flesh, making her gasp.
Fucking hell. That moaning sound she made was becoming a constant hum, a constant promise. I couldn’t let her go. But the tighter I tried to hold on, the more she became ethereal smoke, vanishing through my fingers.
I woke with sweat on my skin as the memory of the coconut lime scent of Lyra stayed with me. I flopped back onto my pillow. I really needed to get my shit together.
Put her out of your mind. There are larger issues at stake.
Easier said than done.
The buzzing that I had attributed to Lyra’s moaning was actually my phone. There were texts after texts from Curtis. I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was four o’clock, 2:00 a.m. for him. I finally just picked up the phone and called him. “What’s going on?”