by Beth Rhodes
“And…the armband, Marie. I’ve seen some crazy things in my life, you know? But I’ve never seen gold—”
“Don’t even say it.” The force of fear rushing through her shocked her. She grabbed his forearms and squeezed, needing him to listen. “It’s a stupid myth. It’s peasant ignorance.”
“You’re alive. Uncle Bert is alive.” He sat next to her on the bed.
“You can’t be serious right now.” The fear choked her. “Please.” She didn’t even know what she was asking for—for him to be rational? To tell her all the fucking hocus-pocus would go away, and she wouldn’t have to live with it anymore, ever?
“Dimitru was going to kill me, he would have killed you, and he’d already tried to kill Uncle Bert.” He said it so matter-of-factly, like Uncle Bert had for all these years. His hands shook a little when he cupped her cheek. “Maybe it’s not the amulet, Marie. Maybe it’s just fate or good luck. But Uncle Bert was shot twice and he’s still alive.”
“And dying of cancer,” she added.
Malcolm sighed, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head.
A nurse walked in, taking a look at the two of them, and grabbed the chart. “Oh, the little miss is awake. Doctor’s going to want to come in and do an exam. Gave us a scare there, dear. If you’ll excuse for a minute, sir?”
Malcolm started to get up, and for some crazy reason, her heart pounded harder.
“He’ll only be out in the hall,” the nurse said, as if she knew, and then muttered as she messed with the machines next to her, “Like he has been for the past twelve hours. Silly man, like we’re not going to take care of you or something.” She winked at Marie. “Lie back down now, dear. I promise he’ll return as soon as the doctor’s done looking you over.”
Marie swallowed and nodded, but her eyes followed Malcolm until he reached the door. “Malcolm,” she called out.
He stopped to look at her.
“I fucking love you, too.”
He grinned, and she relaxed her death grip on her sheet.
“Well, that makes so much more sense now.” The nurse laughed loudly. “He is quite handsome when he smiles, isn’t he? So far it’s been nothing but angry scowls.”
Marie finally laughed. “That’s my Malcolm.”
She didn’t really know what she would do next. But she had Malcolm, and somehow, that seemed like an okay place to be.
***
“What do you mean?” Malcolm was having a standoff with the youthful female doctor who had declared Marie was ready to go home.
“She’s healthy. Her recovery time has been fairly miraculous, if you must know. Her blood count is normal, her labs are clear of the drugs, the beating she took is fading, and her arm was clean and healing nicely before she even got here—no infection.”
Malcolm frowned down at Marie, who was acting nonchalant. But her hand covered the gold armband protectively…suspiciously, as if she was also starting to believe.
“Look, some things are unexplainable, Mr. Daniels. I’ve seen things happen in a hospital that should be absolutely impossible.” The doctor put a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “You’re one of the lucky ones. Take it. Take the blessing and go. Be happy. Take her out to dinner; she’s probably starving for something other than mashed potatoes and Jell-O.”
“Oh yes.” Marie smiled.
He wasn’t looking for trouble, really. But it had only been two days. They’d said to expect her to need at least four days, probably more like a week, to make enough of a recovery to leave.
“Please, Malcolm. Let’s go see Uncle Bert and then go home.”
Well, that did it. He wanted to take her home. He wanted to dive into her and never come up for air.
“Great,” the doctor said. “I’ll get the paperwork together while you wheel her over to the ICU. You should be out of here within the hour.”
After she changed, Malcolm pushed the empty wheelchair while they walked over to ICU, her in the clothes he’d brought for her. She slowed as they approached Uncle Bert’s door.
“Come on. Uncle Bert’s waiting.” The fear in her eyes set Malcolm back. “What is it, Marie?”
Tears sprang to her eyes, but she cleared her throat and shook her head. “I’m ready.”
He held back as she went through the door and stood to watch her. Her usual confidence struggled to break free, until she was almost to the bed and she straightened her posture, probably putting a smile on her face as Bert looked up at her. He reached for her.
Bert pulled her in and folded her into his arms. She was speaking, her words tumbling out of her. Though Malcolm couldn’t make them out, he could tell Uncle Bert was arguing with whatever she said.
Until he finally gave her a solid shake.
Malcolm forced himself not to rush forward. This was Uncle Bert.
And his approach proved Uncle Bert was still being gentle, and Malcolm was being an overprotective ass. If he wasn’t careful, he might push her away by hovering too closely. He wasn’t sure he knew the appropriate balance, though. And it was going to take a while to get things back to normal.
Uncle Bert waved him over. “Thank you, Malcolm. Thank you for saving my girl.”
He shrugged, giving Bert a stupid-ass grin, as if it didn’t matter at all, even though he understood and knew it did. “What was I to do? She had the gold.”
Marie laughed and rolled her eyes. Something had set her right, something about being here with her uncle.
“When I am out of here, I will come home and we will feast,” Bert said. “We will drink Țuică—”
“You’ll rest until you are better.” Her voice shook, but Malcolm knew she was pleased by how well Bert seemed. “Let’s not overdo it, now.”
“Not possible for my Marie and her knight in shining armor who saves the day,” Bert said.
A blush rose on her cheeks as she glanced at Malcolm, making direct eye contact for the first time since they’d left her room. The shyness made her pretty. He was seeing a side of her he’d never been witness to before.
And he promised himself, as they said their goodbyes, he was going to figure out what was going on inside her head.
***
As they drove toward the coast, the clouds broke over them, letting the sun shine down with its late afternoon warmth. Marie was not sleeping, but she was quiet. And the quiet was making him nervous. Her hand went to the gold on her arm. He was surprised when she’d put it back on, and there it stayed. Hadn’t come off since.
“He looked good, right?”
Malcolm took her hand. “He looked tired, but alive and stubborn about you going home and recuperating before you come back.”
“I’m fine.”
His head knew she needed time to process everything. He knew her, knew she’d be thinking about her future, thinking about her past, the armband, her job. It was a part of her he hadn’t seen when they first met. She’d taken everything breezily.
Now, her silence made him nervous. Was she rethinking them?
Would he have to be okay with her rethinking them?
When he pulled into the driveway forty minutes later, Marie showed her first sign of life when she sat up and looked out the front window. The entire scene was washed in an almost surreal orange glow of the afternoon sun as it started its descent to the horizon.
He heard the intake of her breath.
“It’s so pretty.”
He was thinking it looked the same, if not even a little more worn down. It looked like the place she’d had to fight for her life—in more ways than one.
As if sensing his disagreement, she turned to him. “Don’t you think?”
He pulled to a stop at the end of the drive and put the car in park then leaned over the steering wheel. He sighed, because instead of only seeing a house, a crime scene, he saw her there, standing on the porch, calling to him from the back stoop. He saw her on the beach below and in the bed upstairs where they’d slept together. “It is,” he
finally answered. “Prettier with you in it, though.”
Her smile came slowly, as if she had a shy bone in her body, and he knew she didn’t—hadn’t until now.
Malcolm took her hand, turned it over, and kissed her palm.
One day at a time.
He could do that.
He could do anything with her in his life and alive.
Chapter Thirty-Three
He watched her so closely that it set every nerve on edge. Every red flag waved in front of her, a warning to tread carefully, cautiously. She tried to act normal through dinner, even got a few snide comments and laughs in.
But they felt forced.
And by the time dinner was over, she was worn out.
She hadn’t really fooled him.
“I think I’d like to go up and shower, maybe hit the hay for the night.” Malcolm’s searching eyes found hers, and she looked away, surprising even herself. “Thank you for dinner.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Malcolm said, almost too calmly.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as an unexpected flood of uncertainty washed through her. He wouldn’t let her take any responsibility for what had happened this past week. Even though it had totally been all her fault.
“The doctor said you’d feel off”—he cleared his throat—“emotionally for a little while. Please don’t apologize, either.”
She bit her lip. She was getting everything wrong.
Malcolm got up and cleared their plates. Her sweet Malcolm. Her knight in shining…flannel.
Even after all she’d done, all she’d been responsible for, he’d been there for her.
It was why the direction of her thoughts scared her so damn much. She sat on this precipice, unable to move forward. She wasn’t sure she could go back.
Not to Hawk Elite.
“You just going to stand there all night?”
Marie sucked in a breath and let it out with a little laugh. “Malcolm. I didn’t hear you.”
He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, digging in a little with those magic hands. She couldn’t help but moan at how good it felt, and then she leaned back. She didn’t have to make a decision right this minute.
Gently, he led her upstairs and helped her get into her sweats. He pulled her hair back at the nape of her neck and braided it down her back.
“You’re too good to me, Malcolm.”
“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, pulling back the covers so she could lie down.
When he tried to tuck her in, she took the comforter and lifted it. “Come to bed.”
Those eyes filled with worry again.
“I promise to be good.”
“You need rest.”
“I rest best with you.” And it was true.
It was going to make staying behind so much harder.
He took off his shirt and dropped it to the floor and then climbed in next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against his solid body. She breathed deeply, wanting to remember his scent and the feel of him. And then she found herself listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“I can’t go back with you,” she whispered, because in this moment, she wanted no secrets between them.
He sighed. “I know.”
She turned her face up to him and scowled. “You do not.”
His grin had her heart stuttering. And then he kissed her, slowly and tenderly, gently, because he was one of the good ones.
Marie rolled to face him and found purchase at his waist, gripping him almost desperately. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t apologize for doing what you have to do.”
“I wish things could be different.”
Malcolm kissed her down the length of her neck. “I’m not really going to give you up so easily, Marie. So as much time as you need, you can take, but eventually, one of two things is going to happen.”
She rolled him to his back and climbed up to lie flat against his front. “Long distance is never a good idea. I won’t make you keep this up from across the country.”
“In case you didn’t notice,” he said as his hands roamed over her, flattening against her back and pressing against her spine, “no one makes me do anything.”
“Maybe that’s one of the things I like about you.”
“Good. Then it won’t pain you to know when the time comes, I’ll fucking come get you, Marie. One way or another, this is never going to be over between us. I promise you.”
His words weren’t meant to strike fear.
But how could she tie him to the morals of a thief, to a woman who would dare split his loyalties? If she loved him, wouldn’t she follow him back to Raleigh? Work things out once she got there? She should be ecstatic he loved her…
But she was afraid. Afraid of messing up again.
“Stop thinking about it,” he said, touching her cheek, drawing her attention away from those thoughts.
She ran her fingernails up his abdomen and flicked his nipple before placing a warm kiss over his heart. She let her hands explore the scar over his chest. He’d almost died in the attack at Hawk Elite. He could have died three days ago as well.
How many lives did he have left?
Would her mistakes eventually use them up? Could she give up her way of life out here on the coast with her uncle?
Yes.
Holy shit, the word came to her head—strong and clear. No second-guessing, no doubts. She was done running scams, heisting gold or jewels or what-the-fuck-ever caught her eye and made her need to hold on.
This time when she kissed him back, the smallest glimmer of hope burned deep inside her heart. It took over every touch, every thought. Marie clambered to get closer so they were skin to skin, then kicked off her sweats and tore her tank over her head.
Malcolm hesitated for a moment.
“I’m fine, Malcolm, and you better touch me right now, because I need you—” Her voice broke. “I need you to love me tonight. I need you on top of me, weighing me down, holding me captive beneath your body.”
He pulled her down and tasted her lips and moaned against her mouth as his body tightened with need. And then he gave her everything she asked for, rolling her over and crushing her to her tiny bed so she would never be able to sleep there again without thinking of him, without wanting him with her.
He braced himself over her and leaned back, pulling her underwear with him. His hands came back up her legs, tracing desire into her skin. She lifted her hips, inviting and begging. He leaned down and kissed around her navel and down to the juncture of her thighs. Always with a warmth breath, always making her need grow.
When he got up, she groaned in protest.
But he merely removed his boxers and got back into bed.
She circled his neck with her arms, pulled him back down on top of her, and grinned.
“I’ve missed your hands.”
“I’ve missed your face,” he responded, humbling her a little.
And then he sank into her.
But it was different this time. He watched her, gauged her, and the lovemaking turned into a slow, steady pulse instead of the harsh pounding they’d created before. And her orgasm rose so slowly that she wondered if she would come at all.
Malcolm kept at her, though—even as his own climax sent him flying over that edge, he came back to her, touching her, caressing her, loving her up and over the summit.
It wasn’t a crash, but a slow and easy slip into blessed relief as she dozed off with Malcolm’s arms around her.
***
“Uncle Bert, get out of your garden,” Marie yelled from the back porch four days later. “You’re supposed to be resting!”
Malcolm looked up from his coffee cup at the kitchen table with a smile.
Today was the day.
It was time for him to go back to Hawk Elite.
Marie marched through the kitchen. “Talk to him, Malcolm.”
&nb
sp; He grunted, making Marie scowl and throw her hands in the air.
“I’m running to the store.”
His heart pounded when she said those words, because it was the moment he’d been waiting for. “Hey, kiss me before you go, babe.”
She rolled her eyes.
Because he’d been her shadow for days, and even though he knew she wouldn’t be happy he was gone, perhaps a part of him knew she needed the space.
Her hands ran through his hair as she leaned into him and kissed him good.
She squeezed his shoulder before she kept going.
“Drive safely,” he called out.
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied.
She didn’t need the distraction of having him around; that much was obvious. He wanted her. With a fucking aching need, he wanted to ask her to marry him or live with him or whatever it was she wanted to do with him. He didn’t even care.
But he wanted her in his life at her own choice.
She knew what it meant to be with him.
She understood his lifestyle with Hawk Elite. Sometimes, they would be separated.
He believed she could handle anything. She was no Heather. God no. She was generous and giving and selfless. And scared of living up to expectations set by…
Hawk Elite? Probably.
Him? Okay. Maybe. He’d been harsh with her at first. But no more.
After she’d left, he finished his letter to Marie. He’d see her again soon. He had plans for them. Making them a reality might mean taking a few risks, but he figured his Marie was up to the task.
He signed his name at the bottom then folded the paper in thirds and tucked it into his back pocket. He went for his bag, and nerves settled in his gut. What if she couldn’t come back to Hawk?
Then you’ll have a partner you don’t work with, asshole. Big deal.
“Right,” he said to himself with false confidence, and picked up the bag. He tossed it into the back of the car as the door on the front porch opened and closed.
“You’re just going to leave?” Bert kept his voice low.
Malcolm slipped the letter from his back pocket and handed it over. “No. I’m leaving her this.” He second-guessed himself before continuing, “And I’ll be back.”
