Marc moved his arm under her neck and pulled her closer. Her soft, warm body fit perfectly against his. She relaxed her head on his forearm and rested her hand on his chest. A powerful tug rose from his gut, the raging desire to protect and care for her overwhelming him so much, for a moment he couldn’t speak. It had rubbed him wrong, leaving her the way he did, and now, knowing how displaced her childhood had been and the abandonment issues she must have known, it bit at him fiercely. He wouldn’t leave her again, but blurting that out would more than likely scare her back behind her protective shield.
Although it terrified the crap out of him that quite possibly he’d found the woman for him, London just admitted to not having many friends. It explained why such a hot, sexy lady, working at a ski lodge, was single and unattached. The hard shell she’d built around her prevented her from having friends, and also boyfriends.
But Marc had made it through that shell. Now all he had to do was convince her he’d never hurt her.
“I’m not going to leave you again,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead.
“Okay,” she agreed, her lashes fluttering over her eyes as she relaxed next to him.
London answered so quickly, without hesitating, that it not only did a number on his ego, it also stabbed at his heart. She hadn’t batted an eye at his promise—as if she’d heard the same words many times before. How many times had London been left alone while her parents were out breaking the law?
Or was it that her parents dragged her on one heist after another, ordering her to stay hidden and promising to return in a few minutes, but then leaving her for hours, or God forbid, days? Marc’s brain wrapped around all different kinds of scenarios, none of them pleasant, and all of them resulting in creating a person gun-shy to commitment, or to a promise never to leave.
Marc doubted London grasped the intensity of his promise. He held her as her breathing slowed until she was asleep, then managed to drift off to sleep with her.
*
A loud pounding woke him with a start and he jumped to a sitting position, disoriented for a moment. London looked frantically around them, the panicked look on her face waking him up even more.
“What was that?” she asked, her long black hair in disarray around her shoulders and down her back.
“I’m not sure.” Marc climbed out of bed, hurrying to his luggage and pulled sweats free from clothes he’d had with him in Colorado.
“It’s almost 7:00 A.M.,” he said as he donned his sweatpants, meaning they’d both slept soundly for seven hours. Everything in the room appeared in order.
“Was it someone at the door?” London asked, moving her bare legs off the side of the bed.
“I’m not sure.” Marc didn’t see anyone through the peephole. When he opened the door, though, there was a package on the ground at his feet. “Stay here!” he ordered, barely turning around to look at London before hurrying out the door.
There wasn’t anyone along the sidewalk from one end of the building to the other. A few cars were parked in stalls along the motel and a few more were parked in the parking lot, including Marc’s car. He walked toward it as London opened her motel room door.
“What are you doing?” she called out, then, “Oh crap!”
Marc didn’t have to turn around to know she’d spotted the package at the door. He wished she would stay in the room, but what mattered more at the moment was searching outside. Whoever knocked on their door did it minutes ago. They couldn’t have gotten that far.
“Well hell,” Marc complained a few minutes later, and stared at cars driving on the road. He’d been disoriented just long enough after waking up to allow whoever it was who banged on their door enough time to escape. There wasn’t anyone outside at all, except him, freezing his balls off standing outside in sweats, barefoot, with no shirt, in the frosty, early morning dawn.
“Marc!” London called across the parking lot, sticking her head out of the door but having enough sense herself not to come outside in the frigid morning air half-naked.
The door next to her opened and a confused-looking Jake stepped outside still wearing the jeans he’d put on the night before. He said something to London and she answered. Before Marc could get across the parking lot to them, Jake had picked up the package off the cement sidewalk outside their doors and was walking into Marc and London’s room.
“What the fuck time is it?” Jake scowled, scrubbing his curls into a torrential mess around his head.
Marc took the package out of his brother’s hand and walked past him to the desk, sitting down and searching for his pocketknife he usually kept in his pants pocket. “Too goddamned early,” he muttered, finding his knife and sliding it under the clear tape that secured the flap on the envelope closed.
“I’ll fucking say. Where is the coffee?” Jake was always a prick first thing in the morning and even worse when he was forced awake before he was ready to crawl out of bed. “I’m sound asleep and wake up to you two screaming like the world had come to a fucking end.”
“At least you weren’t woken up by someone pounding on your door.” London put her hands on her hips, looking ready to take him on.
Marc glanced up at both of them but returned his attention to opening the package. London might be able to knock Jake down a size or two, which would be very interesting to watch. Either way, at the moment she looked anything but pleased with him. Marc hated feeling jealous, but he preferred her behaving that way toward his brother to her grinning and falling for his half-assed cheesy lines.
“And if you want coffee you can make it yourself,” she added, her expression relaxed but her black eyes sharp. She probably didn’t have a clue how sexy she looked with her black hair tumbling around her and her oversized T-shirt showing off her perky breasts and her long, slender legs. “You don’t have to come in here grumbling. We were just woken up out of a deep sleep, too.”
Jake gave her an appraising once-over, not saying anything for a minute. The silence grew in the room and Marc paused from opening the package, not sure he was in any hurry to see what wonderful surprise they’d been sent this time. From the feel of it, they were more pictures, but he waited to make sure Jake behaved before adding to the pleasantness of the morning.
“Sorry. I’ll be back to my usual charming self once I have coffee.” Jake moved closer to Marc, placing his hand over his bandage. It probably hurt like hell now that his pain meds had worn off. “What is it?” he asked, nodding at the package in Marc’s hands as he again fingered his bandage and grimaced.
“We’re about to find out.” Marc slid the pictures out of the envelope. Several glossy eight-by-tens fell free. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed, staring at the shot on top.
“What?” London and Jake said at the same time.
Both moved around him and London turned on the lamp that was fixed to the wall above the desk. She let out a cry, covering her mouth with her hand when she got a glimpse of the first picture.
“I knew someone was watching us,” she whispered, her voice wavering.
Marc spread three eight-by-tens out on the desk, his anger threatening to boil over as he stared at them. There was a picture of London getting out of his car. The shot made it appear to be daytime, but the motel was in the background and from what she was wearing it was obvious the picture was taken last night when they first arrived here.
The next picture was of London following Marc to the hotel. He carried her luggage. It was the last shot that made him want to hit something—hard. The photographer had narrowed in and taken a picture of London’s ass. Marc put his hand over the picture, ready to wad it up and send it flying. London pressed her hands into his shoulders and leaned forward so her cheek brushed against his.
“They took that picture to piss you off,” she said.
“They did a damn good job.” He wanted to tear it to shreds, howl as loudly as he could while heaving something very heavy and throwing it as far as he could. “They’re toying with us. That’s wh
at these pictures are about, to get under our skin so we can’t think straight.”
“That, or to lure you into a trap.” London stared at Marc and Jake when both of them looked at her. “I mean, think about it. Why send these pictures? Why even bother? If they kidnapped our parents and wanted money they would send a ransom note. But they aren’t doing that. I can’t for the life of me think why they would want me, but I’m willing to bet whoever took your parents, and mine, wants the two of you, too.”
“I can imagine why they would want you,” Jake drawled.
Marc stood quickly, forcing London to jump backward when he sent his chair flying in Jake’s direction. “Now isn’t a good time for comments like that,” he warned Jake.
“Man, I’m not flirting with her. Just chill out. She’s all yours.” Jake sounded disgusted. In Jake’s own way, though, he just accepted Marc and London being a couple, which was high praise. Jake never liked admitting something was all Marc’s. “All I’m doing is pointing out the obvious.”
“I know how hot she is,” Marc said under his breath and gave in to his anger and frustration. He crumpled the picture of London’s ass with his fist.
“Marc,” London began.
He stood, moving around Jake.
“It’s bad enough knowing these assholes managed to take our parents,” he began when he faced London. Marc gripped either side of her head, tangling his fingers in her tousled hair. “I can’t bear the thought of them wanting you, too, for any reason.”
“I’m not completely incapable of taking care of myself,” she informed him.
She was serious. Imagining London defending herself against the men in the pictures they’d already received curdled his blood. If any of them so much as tried laying a hand on her c
“Okay then,” Jake said, clearing his throat and slapping Marc on the back. I’m going to try and shower and get dressed. I’ll be back in a few and we can head out.” He opened the motel room door, waving over his shoulder.
“We’re heading back down to Canyon Diablo,” Marc told him, letting go of London and returning to the desk and the crumpled picture.
“I already know that.” Jake let the door shut behind him.
“Canyon Diablo?” London asked.
She was shifting from one foot to the other, her hair streaming down her front as she stared down at her hands. Sensing Marc was studying her, she straightened, meeting his gaze with her own determined look. The pictures upset her and she was trying really hard not to let it show.
“Yes. That’s where Jake got shot.”
Her eyes widened. “Why do you want to go back there?”
“Because they don’t want us there.”
“Are you so sure about that?”
Marc combed his fingers into her hair until they snagged, causing London to tilt back her head and look up at him as he explained his hunch.
“Whoever was shooting at us had damn good aim. Most can’t come close to a target when they’re firing from the distance our attacker was. I never saw a soul. And it was an open area. Even after I got Jake in the car, I drove to the only cluster of rocks where someone could have been hiding. There wasn’t anyone there. No one could have run to a new hiding place without me seeing them. There just weren’t that many places to take cover.”
“So what are you saying?” she asked, wrinkling her brow but relaxing her face in his hands.
“I can’t be one hundred percent sure about anything. This isn’t a line of work with any hard-core guarantees. My father often claimed he was working from a hunch,” he tried explaining. Marc hoped his gut would lead them as well as his father’s always had. “I think they were testing us, seeing how we would react to being shot.”
“To see if you’d make good soldiers for their game?” London pushed away from him, backing up as she crossed her arms over her chest, and continued frowning. “So you think whoever sent those pictures, took our parents, and sent broken dolls in the mail is also testing you two by shooting at you?”
“More than likely to see if we’ll come back. London, it’s a ghost town. There’s nothing there but some rocks and old graves. It’s not around any buildings or anything, just out there in the middle of nowhere by itself. There’s no reason anyone would have shot at us. We weren’t trespassing or disturbing anything.”
“Obviously whoever is behind this isn’t sane.” London pushed past Marc and went to her suitcase, bending over and teasing him with a glimpse of her ass. She pulled clean clothes out of her bag, then headed for the bathroom but paused in the doorway and looked at him. “Which would make whoever is doing this dangerous, and unpredictable.”
London soaked in the shower a lot longer than she normally would. She was so distracted by their conversation, she’d forgotten to grab her shampoo and conditioner. The small bottles the motel offered were barely enough to cover her hair. Without conditioner, her hair would be frizzy all day. Not that she should care. It wasn’t as if she needed to look her best to visit a ghost town where there might, or might not be, a killer. There was only one reason why she cared how she looked. And she needed to give that reason some good hard thought. Maybe it would be best to slow things down with Marc, work with him and Jake to find both of their parents, but then call it quits. Why did she have to fall for a guy who risked his life on a daily basis?
She would go nuts, be absolutely insane. London pressed her hands against the shower wall and lowered her head, letting the water spray over her. She’d led a nice, quiet, peaceful life for the past three years. It was the life she’d always dreamed of: no guns, no violence. Sure, there were times when she was lonely, times when she wished the perfect man was in bed with her, the two of them sharing a life together. Today she had a nice home that was the same every night when she came back to it. She didn’t have to worry about it being yanked away from her. No one was going to shoot her and no one she loved would be shot.
Images of Jake’s bandaged shoulder made her cringe. That could just as easily have been Marc. Next time it might be. And there would always be a next time. Marc hunted bad guys. And apparently some bad guys hunted him as well. The pictures at their motel room door this morning were proof of that. They weren’t the same as the pictures before, which she believed were intended to inform her and Marc that their parents were in trouble. These were sent to piss them off. London hated letting someone she didn’t know affect her life like this. Not to mention, the man she was just getting to know who was affecting her life even more.
This was definitely pissing her off.
It had been bad enough when she was growing up and was old enough to figure out what her parents were up to and know every time they left her they might not come back. She saw the guns, understood the dangers of her parents’ line of work. And she’d hated it. London had vowed over and over again not to live her life like that once she was old enough to be on her own. The second she came of age, she’d done just that. She was a law-abiding citizen who didn’t do anything to bring trouble upon herself. Apparently she forgot to add to that list of rules not to fall for a bounty hunter, which would bring on the same amount of pain and anguish as living with two criminals.
“Damn it to hell and back,” she hissed, hitting the shower wall with her fist. That was exactly what she’d done, too. It was too late. She’d already fallen true and hard for Marc King; otherwise she wouldn’t be so pissed off right now. If she didn’t care about him as much as she did, it wouldn’t bother her so desperately that he was headed right back to the exact same spot where he and Jake were almost killed the day before.
London straightened, shoving wet hair over her shoulder, when the bathroom door opened.
“Are you okay?” Marc asked.
She must have hit the shower wall harder than she realized. “Yes,” she told him. “No. I don’t know.” She was most definitely not okay.
“Care if I join you?” he asked.
Immediately her insides soared. A pressure built inside her, her pussy s
tarted throbbing, and the quickening in her gut almost made her stagger. Regardless of what her brain thought, her body very much wanted him to join her. She’d fallen asleep last night and missed an opportunity to make love to him. Now her body screamed—demanded—let him in and fuck him now.
“That’s fine,” she heard herself say, even as her brain and body continued arguing.
Obviously, her body was bigger than her brain.
Marc took almost all of the space when he came around the shower curtain, his large body barely fitting in the average-sized bathtub and shower. His hands were on her immediately, holding her by the waist as he helped her move to the back of the shower. When he let her go and turned his back to her, ducking into the shower spray, London got an eyeful of his well-defined muscles bulging along either side of his spine. She also discovered a few new scars. War wounds. Proof he was a lifer, as her dad used to say whenever London cuddled next to him, or her mom, found a new scar, and traced it with her finger.
“Think of them as trophies.” Her father’s voice was as clear in her head as if he stood next to her. London had later found out “lifer” didn’t mean someone sentenced to life in prison. It meant someone committed to a life of crime. A “lifer” was a person who knew from their first heist that they’d be a criminal for life.
London shivered and forced the old memory to go away. Her hands were on Marc’s back and she yanked them away. She wasn’t sure when she’d started touching him.
Marc’s chuckle was a deep baritone. “Feel free to scrub my back while you’re at it.”
She glared at the back of his head but didn’t trust herself to speak.
When her gaze travelled down him, his ass looked hard as steel. She itched to touch it, run her fingers down it, and grab him from behind. Forcing her attention higher, watching roped muscle twitch and flex in his biceps and triceps, didn’t help her any. London’s mouth watered, heat rushed over her, and the steam trapped in the bathroom suddenly made her lightheaded. When soap started flowing down Marc’s body she thought she might swoon from the need to have him. It didn’t matter how many scars she counted. She wanted to fuck him so desperately it washed all of her anger away. Later she would worry about him killing his sexy ass. Right now she just wanted him inside her.
Get Lucky Page 20
