Come a Little Closer (Kadia Club Nights Book 1)

by Nicole York

  Cole looked from Marcus to Adam.

  The room felt like it was vibrating.

  Keesha’s stomach heaved and she thought she might be sick. Keep it together.

  Cole shook his head sharply. “I can’t.”

  Everything that followed happened fast.

  Keesha’s breath caught in her throat as Cole lifted his weapon. Marcus’s eyes widened briefly before he snapped into action, throwing himself to his right.

  Right into the line of fire.

  Adam didn’t move an inch. Keesha couldn’t be certain, but she thought she saw him smiling as Cole trained the gun on his chest.

  Cole pulled the trigger.

  Jon yelled in dismay.

  Marcus continued to fall, his trajectory calculated in milliseconds. He passed in front of Cooper, who stayed on his feet and was sprayed with blood.

  Marcus’s blood.

  Marcus continued to fall until he landed heavily on his side on the Turkish carpets.

  A scream tore from Keesha’s throat. She scrambled forward, her bare feet getting cut up on the rough and jagged stone floor of the passage. She raced into the chamber and to Marcus, who had already rolled onto his back and faced Cooper.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Marcus bellowed. “Now!”

  Jon rushed in front of Cole as he trained his gun on Cooper again. The cop slapped his gun down, drove an elbow into Cole’s throat, and sent him tumbling backward. Jon retrieved the pistol from the floor, and by the time Keesha fell to her knees at Marcus’s side, Adam Cooper had vanished down the opposite passage.

  Marcus seethed. “Son of a fucking whore!”

  Keesha’s hands trembled as she grabbed him and turned him to her. There was a bullet hole in the left side of his jacket, right below his collarbone. She tore the jacket open, exposing another ragged hole in his black shirt underneath. She reached for the fabric to tear it open and see the wound, but Marcus caught her already-bloody hands in his.

  “Baby,” Marcus breathed.

  “Oh my God,” Keesha whispered. She looked over her shoulder at Cole, who was clutching his throat and sucking in great gulps of air while Jon stood beside him, watching him carefully. “You fucking shot him!”

  Cole swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to. I was aiming for Cooper! You dumb bastard, we could have had him!”

  Marcus pushed Keesha aside and pushed himself up to his knees. “I told you to wait. Cooper has backup plans for his backup plans, Cole. Could you have lived with yourself if we singlehandedly got everyone killed? Dimitri’s kid? His woman? Arya? Thomas? Every single person anyone in this syndicate has ever cared about would be at risk. You let your ego lead.”

  Cole blinked. “We had orders.”

  Marcus shook his head and gritted his teeth in frustration and pain. “This life isn’t as clear cut as the life of a cop. Sometimes, you have to change courses. Sometimes, you have to make a decision you know your boss might not like.”

  Keesha reached for Marcus’s shirt again. “Let me see it.”

  He pulled away. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

  Keesha sniffled as her emotions began pouring out of her. So much had happened in the last three hours that she didn’t even feel like the same woman she was before Adam Cooper took her from Kadia at gunpoint. She felt colder. Emptier somehow.

  Older.

  Marcus slowed down enough to take a good look at her. He saw the tears streaming down her cheeks and the way her bottom lip trembled. She tried to hide how overwhelmed she was, but he let out a low growl, reached out, and took her by the arm. He pulled her into him and apologized under his breath for all the blood.

  She didn’t care.

  She settled against his chest and slid her arms inside his jacket. She couldn’t wrap her arms all the way around him, but she clung fiercely to him as he rested his chin on her head. She wished she could crawl into his lap and have him wrap her up in his jacket and hide from the world.

  But there was still much to do.

  “We can’t stay here,” Jon said. “We need to move. People will have heard the gunshot and we don’t know how many men Cooper has down here. Can you walk, Marcus?”

  He nodded, his chin sliding back and forth on top of Keesha’s head.

  Jon tucked Cole’s pistol into the back of his pants. “Let’s go then. Cole, you lead. I’ll cover our backs. Keesha, you help Marcus.” Jon moved around behind Marcus and closed a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Bullet went right through. We’ll get you someplace safe and get you stitched up. Put pressure on it. Keesha, keep pressure on his back. Got it?”

  Keesha nodded. “Got it.”

  Jon tore a strip of his shirt off, folded it into a thick, messy bundle, and handed it to her. “Use this.”

  Then Jon reached down, slid his arm under Marcus’s, and hauled him to his feet. Marcus muttered weak gratitude and let Keesha slip under his other arm. Cole moved to the passage they’d entered through and waited for them at the entrance, standing half in the shadows and half in the light.

  Even in the dimness, Keesha could see the guilt in his eyes.

  He didn’t mean to hurt him, Keesha thought as she let Marcus lean lightly upon her. She chose her footing carefully and was glad for Jon’s jacket still draped around her shoulders. It was keeping Marcus’s blood off her skin.

  They moved carefully through the winding maze of tunnels. Marcus never slowed them down. He hardly let on that he was in pain. But Keesha knew he was.

  They must have walked for half an hour before the tunnels began to get wider. This wasn’t the way she’d come with Adam and Staff, so she didn’t know what to expect as Cole shone the light of his phone on blue arrows painted on the walls.

  “My car is close,” Marcus said. “Just up ahead.”

  Thank God.

  Another five minutes passed, and up ahead, Keesha saw a street light. Relief washed over her. Marcus was leaning more heavily on her now and she knew he wouldn’t do that unless he needed the support. She had her hand up under his jacket and pressed to the back of his shoulder blade with the piece of Jon’s shirt pressed firmly to the bullet wound.

  She could feel Marcus’s blood running down her wrist and forearm like a liquid vine.

  He’ll be able to rest soon. Just a little farther.

  They reached Marcus’s car. Jon got behind the wheel and Marcus passed him his keys, which were also coated in blood. Jon started the engine as Keesha and Marcus got in the back seat. Cole slid soundlessly into the passenger seat and didn’t look back at them.

  Jon reversed, straightened the car out, and began driving down the narrow dirt road back toward the city lights that lit up the night sky some miles away.

  Keesha glared at the back of Cole’s head and cleared her throat. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”

  Cole looked in the rearview mirror and they locked eyes.

  Marcus shifted in the seat beside her to sink down a little lower. Blood pumped out between her fingers over the wound. “He was doing what he thought he had to,” Marcus said thinly.

  Cole averted his gaze and Keesha continued to glare daggers at the back of his head. “That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t say sorry,” she muttered.

  Marcus closed his eyes and chuckled. “Glad to see the night didn’t spoil your attitude.”

  She leaned in and rested her head on his good shoulder. “Never.”

  21

  Marcus

  Marcus gripped the neck of the whiskey bottle. “Watch it,” he growled.

  Cole, who sat on a chair behind him, pulled the needle through Marcus’s flesh and tugged gently to pull it tight and close part of the ragged wound. It was painful but not nearly as uncomfortable as it had been when Cole had to pick through the wound with tweezers to pull out shredded pieces of Marcus’s shirt from the bullet hole. Marcus’s shirt had been cut open and it hung from his shoulders in a tattered, bloody mess.

  That had made him delirious with dizziness.

  The
alcohol was helping but not enough.

  Marcus took another big swig as Cole pushed the needle through a thick chunk of flesh.

  Marcus flinched. “You’re fucking garbage at this shit, Cole.”

  Cole took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’ve never stitched someone up before, all right? I’m trying. Stay still.”

  Keesha sat on Marcus’s sofa. They’d driven back to his loft for a safe place to crash where they knew they could get their hands on some medical supplies. At first, Marcus had suggested they drop Keesha off at home so she could be with her daughter.

  Keesha had steadfastly refused. She wasn’t going anywhere until she saw with her own two eyes that he was okay. Her concern hit him differently. Deeper. He didn’t plan on saying it out loud, not amongst present company, but he was glad she was there.

  Jon was washing his hands in the kitchen. The loft was open concept, so everyone could see each other. Jon filled a cup of water from the tap and brought it over to Keesha. She held it in both hands, thanked him weakly, and took a small sip that turned into bigger gulps. The entire cup of water was gone within seconds.

  Jon poured her another.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Marcus bit down on his tongue as Cole pushed the needle into his skin again. “Fuck! Watch it, will you?”

  “Stay still,” Cole grumbled.

  “Shouldn’t we just go to a hospital?” Keesha asked.

  All three men responded in unison. “No hospitals.”

  She prickled. “Fine. Can I borrow a phone? I should call my mother and let her know I’m not coming home tonight.”

  Jon had been out on the balcony on his phone about half an hour earlier when they first arrived. He fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her. Keesha got up and went out to the balcony to call her mother. She pulled the glass door closed behind her and moved to the railing to rest her elbows on it while she held the phone to her ear.

  Marcus wondered what excuse she’d offer Renee so she didn’t have to worry about her.

  He took another swig of whiskey as Cole went in to skewer him yet again.

  Jon watched with distaste, his expression twisted and repulsed, and shook his head. “You’re making a mess of this, Cole.”

  Cole lifted the thread and needle. “Would you like to trade? I’ll pour the girl a cup of water and you can try sewing skin. Sound good?”

  Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one who blew the hole through him.”

  Marcus chuckled. “He has a point.”

  “I was aiming for Cooper,” Cole said. “I didn’t mean to—fuck, Marcus. I’m sorry.”

  Jon sighed. “About time.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Cole said.

  “Keep stitching,” Jon said.

  Marcus would have laughed if he wasn’t so exhausted. His head was swimming, his skin felt chilled, and all he wanted was to lie down in his bed and sleep for hours—maybe even days.

  He was brought back into the present when Cole slid the needle into him again. He longed for this part to be over so he could relax. Every muscle in his body ached from being so tense while Cole worked.

  A knock at the front door surprised him.

  Marcus glanced at Jon as the cop went to answer the door.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Marcus asked.

  Cole had stilled behind him, growing cautious. “Don’t answer it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jon said lightly. “I called in reinforcements.”

  Reinforcements?

  Jon unlocked the door and pulled it open. Light from the hallway spilled into the loft and cast a long, feminine shadow on the floor. Marcus followed the line of the shadow up to the feet of the woman standing on his threshold. She wore thigh-high black boots, black leggings, a black shirt, and a cropped black leather jacket. Her hair was long and dark, almost black, and she wore a familiar smirk on her full lips.

  “Kate,” Marcus breathed.

  Kate came into the loft and Jon closed the door behind her. She moved past him and marched toward Marcus. The heels of her boots clicked on his hardwood floors. He watched her every move, so familiar and so sensual, until she dropped to a crouch in front of him and rested her elbows on her knees, letting her hands hang in front of her.

  She arched an eyebrow, clicked her tongue, and shook her head at him. “Surprise, surprise. You’re bleeding.”

  Marcus gave his head a shake.

  Kate laughed softly and put her hand on his wrist. “Hey, big guy. It’s been a while.”

  “No shit,” Marcus breathed and looked at Jon. “How drunk am I?”

  Jon laughed. “She’s here, man. In the flesh.”

  Marcus’s attention slid back to the woman he’d loved so fiercely before he lost her to Jon. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been in New York the whole time,” she said, a coy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “But I told Jon not to tell you. I didn’t want you to be… distracted. Although it seems whatever harm I was trying to spare you from found you anyway.”

  Marcus hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “This moron shot me.”

  Kate’s eyes narrowed on Cole. “Move. You’re going to make the scar worse than it needs to be.”

  “Gladly.” Cole rose from his chair and held the needle and thread up.

  Kate pinched them both between her thumb and forefinger, dragged the chair closer up behind Marcus, and straddled it. Then she leaned in close to inspect the work Cole had already done. She made an unimpressed sound in the back of her throat. “It’s messy, but it’ll work. Did it go straight through?”

  Jon moved forward with a nod. “Yes. We haven’t made it to the front yet.”

  Kate shook her head. “So you’ve been bleeding for how many hours then?”

  “A couple,” Marcus said.

  “Fools.” Kate began her work. Her touch was much more delicate than Cole’s. She wielded the needle with effortless ease and practice. She’d done this kind of thing for Marcus several times over the course of their bloody, sexy, complicated history. Injuries were a part of his line of work no matter what, and back when they ran together, he was always using himself as a shield to protect her.

  He could take a bullet but he’d never let Kate get hit. His choice to let Cooper go tonight had been made with that same motivation in mind. She was out of this life and she would stay out, even if it cost Marcus his life.

  She wanted and deserved her freedom more than any of them.

  “Did you get this man of yours?” Kate asked as she cut the thread with her teeth.

  Marcus glanced at Jon, who answered her. “No. But a deal was struck.”

  “A good deal?” she pressed.

  “Time will tell,” Jon said.

  Kate stood from her chair and pulled it around in front of Marcus, who took another swig of whiskey. She took the bottle from him when he was done and pulled the rest of his shirt off him with a quick pull. She tossed the messy thing on the floor and sat back down. Her eyes ran all over him, narrowing on fresh wounds he’d acquired since they’d gone their separate ways.

  She sighed, sounding tired. “I see this isn’t the first bullet you’ve taken in the past few years.”

  He shook his head. “The scars are part of my charm.”

  She smiled at him. God, he’d missed that smile.

  It was the same smile he’d woken to on early mornings when they both ran Expulsion together, Kate’s nightclub back in New Orleans. He loved her sleepy smile and the way she would roll over and press her naked body against his, silently asking him to help her wake up the rest of the way.

  He always rose to the occasion.

  He could still hear her breathless sighs and moans.

  Kate inspected the wound in his chest, washed it off, and began stitching. Marcus was too tired and too numb to feel much of anything. Cole and Jon helped themselves to some of the whiskey and passed the bottle back and forth while Kate worked.

>   The sliding door opened with a quiet hum.

  Keesha stepped in and drew it closed, her back to them. “My mother believed me. Took some convincing but she should sleep easy. She thinks I’m—” Keesha fell silent when she turned and saw Kate.

  Kate nodded and smiled. “Hey, I’m Kate.”

  “Kate?” Keesha said.

  “Marcus and I used to work together,” Kate said.

  Marcus internally cringed. He’d never imagined there would be a day where these two women were in the same room together.

  Keesha wrapped her arms around herself. “Marcus, where’s your bathroom?”

  “Down the hall on the left,” he said.

  She left without making eye contact with anyone.

  Shit, he thought as he looked back at Kate while she worked on his chest. Her tongue was pinched between her teeth as she focused. Her hands worked carefully and she took her time, making sure her stitch work was tight and close together to make the scar as small as possible. Honestly, Marcus didn’t care much about scars. He was riddled with them.

  All he could think about in this moment was the way her fingertips and her knuckles grazed his bare chest. Had this happened just a year ago, the touch would have set him on fire with lust.

  But now?

  He felt nothing of the sort.

  The lack of heat surprised him. Kate was the woman who had been stalking him in his dreams and leaving him lying in bed panting when he woke with a hard-on that hurt. She’d been on his mind every damn day since he lost her, and now that she was right in front of him, touching him, that all-consuming lust didn’t have hold of him.

  He still felt something, a gentle pull to her. He knew that would never fade, but he realized it had changed into something else—a fierce loyalty. The kind of loyalty he felt to Dimitri.

  To Zak, his manager at Kadia and long-standing Russian friend. To Jon.

  Kate finished the stitching and discarded the needle and thread in the garbage. She rose to her feet and tipped her chin toward the balcony. “Do you have time to talk?”

  Marcus stood. “Lead the way.”

  22