by Eve Langlais
“Evil. I know.” She tilted her head back to look at him. “This is why we train at the academy. So we can fight against this.”
“But someone is trying to turn the different schools and groups against each other.”
“From the sounds of it, it might have been Gerard, except he was no manservant.”
“He played us.” Marcus couldn’t help but feel disgusted. He’d never even seen it coming. “Do you think he’s dead?” The body had fallen into the water, unconscious. But…
Kacy shrugged. “Maybe he is. Or maybe he isn’t. Just like we can’t be sure Willow’s out of commission. Either way, we should get back to Darren and check on him. I think it’s time we hunkered down and waited shit out. We’ll have to take our chances with the Coast Guard if they get here before we can clean this shit up.”
Except, before they could make it to the house, it exploded. As in a giant fucking kaboom, ground-shaking explosion.
Bits of the house—wooden beams, glass shards, even chunks of stone—blew outwards and rained down on the island, hitting the ground like a dense meteor shower. The rain chose that moment to taper to a fine drizzle, which meant some of the smoldering debris burned where it landed. Burned even the wet thatch of the cabanas.
Lit up trees and roofs in a bright, hot blaze that stank of smoke.
Gathered on the beach, the ragged survivors stuck close to the waves, lest they have to escape the hot flames.
They could only watch as everything—clothes, furniture, and the bodies that couldn’t run, like Darren’s—burned.
Burned to ash, leaving nothing behind. Nothing but the gaping hole in his heart.
When dawn broke, brilliant and sunny, the Coast Guard arrived to find the survivors huddled on the beach, shell-shocked and dark with soot. There weren’t many of them, only those who’d barricaded themselves in once the violence started.
As they were herded onto the ship and given blankets along with warm drinks, Kacy huddled close to Marcus and remarked on his lack of emotion.
“Are you okay? You must be shocked about Darren.”
Shocked? Maybe. Disbelief was more like it. He had a hard time believing his friend had died so ignobly.
It didn’t feel real. And he said so to the men in uniform who questioned him. He’d told them he was taking the boss’s girlfriend for a walk on the beach to watch the storm when everything exploded.
To his surprise, they didn’t question him much. The authorities on that boat and those who met them on the dock didn’t really delve deeply into the island explosion, the consensus being that the generators got hit by lightning, and the fuel tanks feeding them somehow exploded. Then burning shit took care of the rest.
No bodies. No crime. Just a horrible tragedy. But because those involved were rich—and special—it never even made the news. Those with power knew how to hide things, and the next in line stepped in to take their place.
In short order, the survivors were released. Marcus and Kacy were bundled off to a hotel, paid for by Kacy’s company, Bad Boy Inc.
Tired, dirty, and still damp, Marcus couldn’t wait to strip and get into a hot shower.
The show would have to wait because waiting for them in the room was a man. Harry.
At the sight of him, Kacy squealed and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly before pushing away and staring at her toes, shoulders hunched.
“I failed the mission.”
They both had. Marcus, in keeping Kacy safe, had failed his best friend.
The numbness permeated every part of him. It didn’t seem real that Darren was dead. Surely Marcus would feel it in his heart if it were true? And yet, they’d found no more survivors.
No Darren.
“You hardly failed. You’re here in one piece, as is Marcus, I see. Darren is quite happy about that.”
“Darren is dead.” Marcus uttered the words and wished they didn’t feel so wrong.
“Not exactly dead,” Harry corrected. “He sent me here to let you know.”
“What?” Kacy’s head snapped up. “What do you mean he let you know? Darren’s alive?”
“Quite.”
She snarled. “Where is he?”
“Now, Kacy—”
“Don’t you Kacy me. I’m going to kill him. How dare he make us all think he died?”
How dare he make Marcus think he’d been abandoned?
The soothing words from Harry didn’t placate. “Don’t be too mad. He had to do it and make it look real in order to go into proper hiding.”
“How about I help him by sticking him in a box six feet under?” Kacy didn’t even try to hold in her rage.
He could understand it. “Where is he?” Marcus asked. Because he kind of felt like Kacy right then. Itching to wrap his hands around someone’s throat for a good throttling.
“I can’t disclose his location. And neither of you can let on that he’s still alive. But he thought you should know before you began spending everything he left you in his will.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. “He made me his heir?” Marcus whispered, his throat closing up.
“You should know by now you’re like family to him,” Harry said. “Just like Kacy is family to me, which means hurt her and—”
“I know. No one will find the body,” Marcus interrupted.
“Do you really think I’d merely kill you? That would be too simple. I’d make it hurt first.” Harry smiled. A cold smile. But one Marcus didn’t mind because anyone who cared for Kacy was a good shit in his books.
Harry handed them a wad of cash plus some plastic cards. “Replacement identification. Money. You’ll find some clothes in the bags I left in the closet. I’ve arranged for a flight back in the morning. Kacy, I’ll expect you in the office on Monday.”
“Are we hiring by any chance?” she queried.
Harry’s calculating gaze swept over Marcus. “I think we can find something for your boyfriend to do.”
It wasn’t Harry’s offer of a job that stunned Marcus most, but the fact that Kacy didn’t deny the claim. As soon as the other man left, Marcus swept her into his arms.
“What’s got you so happy?”
“Other than the fact that you sort of called me your boyfriend?”
“What else would I call you? I mean, you’re a boy. I think we’re friends.”
He plastered his mouth to hers but couldn’t help a chuckle. “He’s alive! Darren’s alive.”
“Only until I get my hands on him.” Said with an ominous undertone.
“I’ll hold him for you. Especially since we’re now partners.”
“Who the hell said that?”
“You want me to work with you.”
She grumbled, “Well, I doubt you want to stick around my place cleaning and cooking all day.”
“If you’ll cook, I’ll clean.” Old military habits died hard.
“Are you negotiating terms?” she asked.
“Best to have ground rules if we’re going to be together.”
“No one said that was permanent.”
“Then how long were you planning?”
“Until you annoy me and I toss you out.” The words sounded feisty, and yet, she still hugged him. Was it his imagination, or was she tugging off his clothes?
His lips twitched. “I love you, too.”
“I never said that.”
“Maybe not yet, but you will. I love you, even if you’re the most infuriating woman ever.”
“You love that I’m a bitch?” Her brow arched.
“I like that you don’t take any shit. That you know how to kick ass.”
“Say it. I can kick your meathead ass.”
“Anytime, little pint.”
For some reason, it caused her gaze to smolder. “You know, you’re not too bad either.”
“Not too bad?” he growled, squeezing her until she gasped with laughter.
“Okay, maybe I’m fond—”
Squish.
&nb
sp; “Very fond, of you, too. Maybe.” She squealed when he lifted her off her feet and swung her around.
“We’re gonna make a great team, little pint.”
“We’d better, or you’ll have to deal with Harry.”
“I will make you happy.”
“You’d better.” She grinned. “So when does the making-me-happy part start. I could use a shower and more.”
“Can’t we skip to the ‘and more’ part?” It didn’t take much to strip the poncho off her and rip the ragged remnants of her gown.
Looking down at herself caused her nose to wrinkle. “Only a man would think this”—she gestured to her grimy body—“is sexy.”
“I told you before, I like you as you are, little pint. Now, give me a kiss.”
“Ordering me around?”
“Begging.” He dropped to his knees. “Please.”
“Get up, you meathead. Let’s go get clean.”
She drew him to his feet before turning to lead the way into the bathroom. The water took only a moment to get hot, and as she stood under the spray, Marcus joined her, nestling into her body from behind, arms loosely laced around her.
He rubbed his jaw against the top of her head, smelling the smoke in it and not caring. What did he care about her hickory scent when his cock pushed hotly against the crevice of her ass?
Turning in his grip, she lifted her lips for a kiss, and he bent to meet her. Her touch never failed to electrify him.
They stood under the spray, locked in a kiss, bodies pressed together, his pulsing cock trapped between them. Her arms twined around his neck. She hugged him to her tightly. The feeling of her skin against his, silky smooth, drove him mad with lust.
He skimmed his hand down her side, pausing when he felt the gauze.
The white bandage served as reminder of her wound. They’d cleaned and dressed it on the boat, and here he mauled her instead of letting her get the rest and care she needed. He pulled away, angry at himself for being so selfish.
“Don’t you dare leave this shower. I’m not done with you.”
“You’re injured.”
She leaned out of the shower and poked him in the arm, smack-dab in the center of his own gauzy bandage.
“That didn’t hurt.”
“You know what will,” she said as he reached for a towel, “is you leaving me and yet knowing I’m going to be in here touching myself, thinking of you.”
His hand froze.
“Why do you insist on making things hard?” He turned around, hands on his hips, his erection pointing right at her.
She smiled.
She bloody well smiled and crooked a finger at him.
So much for being a gentle-fucking-man and letting her heal. With a growl, he dove back into the shower and took her lips in a passionate embrace.
For all his roughness and passion as he devoured her mouth, he was also gentle, steering his hands clear of her wounded area.
She wasn’t as tender, nipping and biting at his mouth. Hips grinding against him.
The passion beat fiercely between them. He dragged his lips down the column of her throat, drawing sweet moans from her.
His tongue licked its way to her breasts, and at long last, he got to play with them. He circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue, teasing her while he cupped her ass. That sweet fucking ass.
Bending her back, he leaned in and took the other nipple between his lips, sucking the puckered nub into his mouth. Switching breasts, he lavished the same attention on the first nipple, tugging on it with his teeth before sucking on her flesh.
This time, she didn’t have to stifle her passion. She was vocal about it, her cries merging with hot pants, her pleasure not just loud and wonderful but rough as she dug her fingers into his shoulders. The sharp pinch of her nails drove him crazier.
He dropped to his knees, uncaring of the water sluicing down. He nuzzled her belly with his face before tickling the curls covering her mound.
“Marcus.” She said his name on a low moan, clasping his hair.
Grabbing her ass cheeks, he squeezed them and pushed at the seam of her thighs, getting them to part.
With the first flick of his tongue against her sex, she cried out, her hips bucking hard, almost knocking him back.
“More.”
Definitely more. He stroked her again, parting her lips to lap at her. Suck. He flicked his tongue against her clit, and she arched. Cried out.
Did all manner of things as he held her and licked her and made her crazy.
Tugging at her clit with his lips, he worked it, sometimes flicking his tongue against it back and forth, other times biting on it gently with his teeth.
It made her come. Come with a strident scream that saw her bucking in his grasp.
Standing, he hoisted her high enough that the tip of him could find the entrance to her still-quivering sex. He thrust into her, sheathing his cock with one shove that stretched her and triggered a second orgasm.
“Marcus!” She screamed his name then moaned as she clutched at him. Trembled and groaned her pleasure as he pumped into her sweet body.
When he did finally come, his hips heaving hard one final time, she sighed his name.
“Marcus.”
“I love you, little pint.”
Softly said but he still got punched.
Not hard.
He knew it.
She loved him, too.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After sleeping all day, when they weren’t doing filthy, dirty things or eating, they finally dressed and boarded a plane on Saturday night, meaning they were in her bed early Sunday morning and still lying in it when someone walked into her house.
Someone with a key.
Kacy had only enough time to snatch Marcus’s gun from his hand and slide it under the pillow before Mama walked into her bedroom. She didn’t have time to put on clothes, and neither did Marcus.
Her mother’s eyes went wide. “Dios. Now that’s what I call a lot of man!”
Kacy screeched, “Mama, would it kill you to knock?” She scrambled to pull a sheet over them both.
“Would it kill you to call your mother?” she retorted. “I had to rely on the neighbor to call me and tell me when you got home. With a man.” The pointed stare covered Marcus, who grinned.
“Hi. I think we met on the phone already. I’m Marcus.” He held out his hand, and Kacy wanted to hide under her bed as her mother gripped it and turned it over, inspecting it.
The appraising gaze inspected every aspect of Marcus before her mother said, “Bring him to dinner.”
And with that, her mother sailed back out and slammed the front door.
Kacy groaned. “Oh, God. I can’t believe that just happened.”
“It’s not that bad. I was bound to meet her sooner or later.”
She gave him a side eye. “I had hoped for more time.”
“Why? She seems nice.”
“She can be. Just be prepared.”
She just wouldn’t tell him prepared for what. He’d soon find out.
Later that day, at her mother’s house for dinner—which wasn’t an option—they were seated at the table, a table laden with food. There was homemade salsa and guacamole with fresh tortilla chips—homemade, not store-bought. Mama had gone all out making spicy enchiladas, the smell heavenly when they’d walked through the door.
Marcus’s eyes had lit up at the sight of all the dishes. The only time Kacy had seen Marcus look happier was in bed.
Now, Mama soaked in his praise as he hummed and groaned with almost every single bite.
“Delicious.” He took another bite, this time trying a chip slathered in fresh dip. “Dear God, you made this? I don’t suppose Sunday night dinner is a tradition.”
He laid it on thick, but damned if she didn’t think he was sincere.
Mama noticed and reveled in it.
The doorbell rang, and her mother sighed. “I’ll get it. It’s probably that man for Tito
again.”
“I thought Harry was going to take care of him?”
“He offered, but I didn’t want to bother him. This is a family matter. Your employer should not be involved.”
Silly given who Harry was, but Mama didn’t know what Bad Boy Inc. really did.
“What’s going on?” Marcus asked, pausing in his feast.
“My brothers owe some money, and some thugs think they can shake down Mama for it.”
Being predictable, he said, “I’ll handle it.” Marcus rose from the table and left the room. Kacy wanted to follow, wanted to so badly, but she could see Mama watching her.
“I’m surprised you’re letting him answer the door. You don’t usually let men do things for you.”
“Marcus is different.” For one, Kacy didn’t feel a need to constantly prove herself around him.
“He’s a nice boy.”
More than nice. He also had a bad streak she really liked. And he made her smile. Made her mad. Horny. She sighed. “I think I love him, Mama.”
Words she could admit to her mother but still hesitated to say aloud to Marcus.
The squeal of tires from outside had Kacy burning to know what had happened.
Marcus stepped back in, looking just as calm as before.
Mama eyed him. “Do you need ice for your fist?” Kacy’s brothers always needed tending after their scraps.
Marcus smirked. “I’m not hurt. His jaw was soft. As was his reason for visiting. He won’t be back.”
Kacy shivered at the implied “or else” in his words.
“More enchiladas?” Mama pointed a serving spoon at the dish.
“Yes, please.”
“And come back Tuesday. I make tacos.”
Since when? In that moment, Kacy knew she’d never get rid of Marcus. Mama approved.
And so did this pint-sized killer.
Epilogue
Weeks later…
“You know when I said I didn’t mind mixing pleasure with work, I didn’t mean on our honeymoon,” Marcus grumbled.
“Don’t be grumpy, meathead. Just think, not only are we getting paid to go on a cruise, you get to see me in a bikini.” Kacy reached down and pulled the hem of her cover-up over her body, revealing the bikini that Kacy swore was too tiny but that Sherry claimed contained just the right amount—more like lack—of fabric.
