It was a sweet statement, and if she was honest, it warmed her heart. But only for a moment. Marc had said sweet things to her before, and none of it had meant anything. He liked to spin what he knew she wanted to hear. She wouldn't fall for it again.
Please don't fall for it again.
“I didn't ask you do it. I was prepared to do it on my own, before you ever even came along. Then I wanted to do it with you, if you'll recall,” she told him. His glare softened a little.
“I couldn't do that, I'm sorry. I may be a bastard with a one-way, non-refundable ticket to hell, but I'm not about to take you with me.”
“That wasn't your decision to make.”
“I thought it was.”
“You think I'm some delicate, fragile, little girl wandering around out here. I'm not. I wasn't in Africa, and I'm even less of one now. You need to recognize that.”
“You're delicate to me, and I would die if I broke you.”
Lily was stunned into silence. They stared at each other for a second, and she worked hard to get control of her emotions. Of course she had feelings for Marc. Those kind of feelings didn't just die. Didn't just disappear. But they could be controlled, and she had learned how to keep them under wraps. His words threatened to break them free, and she didn't think she'd survive the tidal wave of thoughts and fears and feelings that would take her over if that happened.
“That's very sweet,” she whipsered, then cleared her throat. “But it doesn't matter. We're nothing to each other now. Get out of my car.”
“We're never going to be nothing to each other, and it's all pointless anyway, Lily. Just go home.”
Sweetness, gone.
“You go home. Oh wait, you don't have one,” she snarled.
“I know his next move. I know exactly where he's going to be. I'll already have killed him before you even make your next move,” Marc finally showed his ace card.
Lily resisted the urge to scream. It could be a bluff, though she doubted it. Marc wasn't a big bluffer. A manipulator, yes. A liar, for sure. But this, she believed. Believed because it hurt, and that's what Marc was the best at – hurting other people.
“De Sant, please,” she whispered, resting her head against the steering wheel.
“My name is Marc.”
“Please. My sister. My life. My time. Please. Tell me where he's going to be.”
She hated that she was reduced to begging, and begging from a man like him. Kingsley would've just shot him and gone about finding Stankovski on his own. She wondered if she should do the same.
“I can't do that, sweetheart,” he said in a soft voice.
Circles. We're always talking in circles. You want something. He has it. How do you get it? Find something he wants and keep it from him.
Lily sat upright, though she kept staring out the window. How badly did she want to know what he knew? How hard would it be to start over again? God, she'd been in the same room with Stankovski. She wasn't sure she could go back to tracking rumors. She was ready for it to be over. Ready for it to end.
Ready to give this burden to someone else.
“I can make it worth your while.”
Her voice came out overly loud and harsh, almost echoing in the small confines of the truck.
“You have no idea how tempting that is, princess, but seeing as how I've been turning over a new leaf for the last six months, it's going to take a lot more than that to get me to break,” he chuckled. She finally looked at him.
“How much more?”
“A lot.”
“How about a million dollars?”
Marc's eyes got wide.
“I'm sorry, what?”
“Not enough? How about two million? Fuck it. Let's call it a cool five.”
Now he was looking at her like she was crazy.
“Okay, I think maybe I should drive you to a hotel, or a hospital, or something. Do you have Kingsley's number?” he asked.
Lily ignored him and managed to wiggle her backpack around to her front. She unzipped the flap and began rooting around. She dug around the bottom for a moment, then found what she was looking for. She pulled a small canvas bundle out and laid it on the seat between them.
“You lied to me,” she started in a shaky voice as she tossed her backpack to the floor.
“I never lied to -”
“You did. But ... I lied, too. I had to – to protect both of us, at first, and then ... and then to protect me from you,” she explained, working to keep calm as she unrolled the canvas.
“Protect us from what? And I never tried to hurt you, Lily. Not at the end. All I wanted was for us ...”
Marc's voice died off. She didn't blame him. It was a lot to take in. It never ceased to amaze her. She let out a deep sigh, and felt like she was letting out a breath she'd been holding for months. Felt like she was letting go of a weight. She was glad it was Marc taking the weight from her – he deserved to carry some of it.
After all, it was partially his to begin with.
“Feel like breaking yet?” she asked, and he finally looked up at her.
“I'll be damned, sweetheart. Just when I think you can't possibly blow my mind more than you already have, you go and up the ante.”
Diamonds are always a sight to behold, whether in a ring, or a necklace. Earrings or a bracelet. Loose stones in a bag. Shiny and bright, they captivated the mind and called attention in whatever form they took. When there was a handful of them, however, spread across a seat on top of a piece of black canvas, they looked particularly amazing.
Especially when everyone else thought they were resting at the bottom of an ocean.
“That's only some of them,” she said, scraping the diamonds into the center of the material and wrapping the canvas back up.
“How?” he asked, and he didn't need to elaborate. She knew what he was asking.
“I lied,” she answered simply. “I buried them in the desert outside of Casablanca, then I went to meet Ivanov. After ... after your letter, after I found out where to find Kingsley, I went back for them. I've been carrying them around ever since.”
“You said that's not all,” he checked, and she nodded.
“Yes. The rest are somewhere safe. If you tell me what I need to know, if you tell me how to find Stankovski, I'll give them to you. Give them all to you,” she told him, and finally looked into his eyes again. She had thought he would look elated. He had bled for those stones, almost died for those stones, but when she stared at him, he looked almost sad.
“All of them, huh? Awfully generous. I feel like I'm winning on this deal,” he tried to joke.
“Then you underestimate how badly I want to do this. These stones are fucking cursed. They've done nothing but give me bad luck. Take them, sell them, do whatever you want with them. I don't want them. I never did. Isn't that hilarious? Out of everyone on that continent who chased us for these, who fought for these, who died for these, I'm the only one who never had any real interest in them.”
They were both silent as she finished rolling them up. She tied the canvas shut, then set the lump back on the seat. When Marc didn't make a move to touch it, she picked it up and shoved it back into her backack. She didn't want him trying to run off with them, not before she got what she wanted.
“You think I have an interest in them?” he asked. She laughed.
“I think you have an interest in money, and right now, a lot of it is staring you in the face. Tell me what I want to know, De Sant,” she pushed. He looked thoughtful for a second, which was scary to behold.
“How about we make a deal,” he offered.
Lily groaned.
“Our deals don't work out so well for me,” she growled.
“You're not in a position to barter. Here's the deal,” he started. “You want information. I wouldn't mind getting paid for these last six months. We'll consider this a down payment. In exchange, I'll help you get to Stankovski.”
“Help me?”
“As in
I'll let you tag along.”
“Fuck you, De Sant.”
“We've done that dance, sweetheart.”
“Just give me a goddamn address! You got the diamonds! You got resolution! What else do you fucking want!?” she yelled at him.
He was silent for a long second, and his stare was unnerving. Lily squirmed in her seat, gripping the steering wheel hard enough that her knuckles turned white.
“You really don't get it,” he said softly.
“Apparently fucking not. You know I'm good for the stones, so just tell me what I want,” she snapped.
“No. How do I know you even have the rest? How do I know you haven't already sold them off? How do I know you won't shoot me the moment you get what you want? No, I'm not stupid, princess. Information upon payment, that's how this business works. You can come with me, and maybe, if I'm feeling generous, I'll give up information as we go,” he told her.
Lily's grip on the wheel grew so hard, the friction from the cracked leather bit into her skin. It wasn't fair. Not that she expected life to ever be easy or fair anymore, but seriously. It was bad enough that any secret hopes she'd been holding in the back of her heart for Marc to be glad to see her, for him to be miserable without her and so in love with her that he couldn't stand the idea of spending another moment apart, had been completely dashed. Now she was painted into a corner with him.
And not only had her secret wish not come true, but her deepest fear had – that it had only ever been about the diamonds. Touches in the night and sweet words whispered over the sand. All a lie. He just wanted the stones. Even now, he didn't trust her enough, didn't respect her enough, to just give her what she wanted.
Getting my fingers broken didn't hurt as bad as this.
“De Sant, I -”
“Marc.”
“I can give you the rest of the diamonds! You don't need to do this,” she insisted.
“How do I know that the minute I give you an address, tell you his plans, you won't simply slip off in the middle of the night? Or shoot me in the knee and leave me for dead? No, I'm gonna hold onto my little insurance policy. Start driving princess, we've got a lot of miles to cover.”
And that was that. No amount of yelling, threatening, arguing, bribing, or cajoling, could get him to budge. He wanted all the diamonds, and he wasn't going to say one word about Stankovski until he got them. She could just follow his instructions, and that was the best she would get. They would be partners again.
Again. Fuck my life. What did I ever do to deserve Marcelle De Sant?
DAY TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN
Marc watched Lily as she jogged across the street. She glanced over her shoulder at him once, then made her way to a payphone. She had to call Kingsley – the Brit was going to be their ticket out of South America. They had to get to Florida, so Marc could gear up. After that, he'd assured her he would point them in Stankovski's direction.
He still couldn't fucking believe it. Liliana Brewster, in the flesh. She was so different. He'd thought of her every single day since he'd left her, so he'd remembered her well. There had been a lot of long nights and lonely days, with only the memory of her to keep him company. To keep him sane.
Of course, when Marc had sent his letter to her, he'd known she would get upset. Lily was all piss and vinegar. But he'd never imagined that she would hold onto her anger for so long. Not only that, it had never occured to him that she would actively continue along with her original mission of killing Stankovski, and that she would track down Kingsley Law to help her.
Law. Just thinking his name made Marc grind his teeth. The British mercenary was funny, and smart, and charming, and handsome, and also one of the best in the business. And Lily had been spending time with him. A lot of time with him. More time than she had ever spent with Marc.
I'm going to kill him.
It hurt his heart that Lily honestly thought he'd left her because of the diamonds. By the end of their time together, the diamonds hadn't meant anything. He'd left her to them, hadn't he? Left her to go to Tangier on her own. Didn't that count for anything? He didn't want the diamonds now. He just knew that if he hadn't taken her bait, she would've continued seeking out Stankovski on her own, and no matter what she said, no matter what bullshit Law had put into her head, she wasn't equipped to handle that task on her own.
Though really, she certainly handled you well enough.
Marc chuckled and rubbed at the lump on his head. She'd kicked his ass, he wouldn't even deny it. She was quicker, faster. Lily 2.0. Her curves had been replaced by tone muscles, and her fiery passion had been replaced by ice cold anger.
But in his heart, he believed, he knew, that she was still the same person. Still the same woman who had rocked his world in Africa. Still the same woman, fighting her way to become something she was never meant to be; something she didn't need to be – he couldn't allow it. Not for any amount of diamonds.
He would take her to Stankovski, alright. And then he would end it, once and for all.
“Okay!” her voice startled him out of his private thoughts. He glanced over to find her climbing into the passenger seat next to him.
“Got the info?”
“We have to get to Barranquilla, it's on the coast. Maybe like ... twelve hours from here, or so,” Lily explained while Marc pulled back into traffic.
“We can make that in no time,” he replied. She snorted.
“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You and I don't have such good luck with cars.”
He laughed out loud.
“Very good point.”
He'd thought maybe they were reaching a place where they could laugh and talk like old friends, but he was mistaken. She fell silent after that, staring out her window the whole time he drove. Any attempt he had made at conversation, she shot down with one word answers, or sometimes just ignoring him all together.
You left her, remember, idiot? So stop chasing her. Treat it like a job. Like any other job.
His knee was bothering him – their little party with Damiano had fucked him up more than he wanted to admit, and then Lily's kick the day before hadn't helped at all. He knew he needed time to rest, time to heal, but stopping meant giving Lily time to find an excuse to ditch him. He didn't want that to happen. Now that he knew she wasn't living a peaceful normal life somewhere, he couldn't bear the thought of her being out of his sight.
They switched after an hour or so, and Marc stretched out in the back seat. He elevated his leg, then actually drifted off, the hum of the engine and sounds of the road lulling him to sleep.
He wasn't sure how many hours later it was when he was jolted awake. He blinked his eyes rapidly and realized the car was stopped. More than that, he was alone. He twisted around, struggling to sit upright
She left me. I can't believe she left me. Well, I left her, so maybe I deserve it. But still ... that crazy bitch left me in the middle of -
“Hey.”
He whipped his head around to find Lily getting into the passenger seat. It was a simple movement, and he wasn't sure if maybe it was because his brain was still struggling to wake all the way up, but he was struck by such a powerful wave of nostalgia that it took him a moment to catch his breath. Being in a car with her again, suddenly he was back in Africa. Back to one of the most dangerous times in his whole life, which was saying something.
Also one of the best times, which is really saying something.
“Where'd you go?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“Gas. Food,” she replied, holding up snacks. “Your turn to drive, De Sant.”
He scowled and got out of the car. He hated that she wouldn't use his name. He got behind the wheel and slammed the door shut.
“How far away are we?” he checked, glancing at the horizon as they pulled out of the gas station. The sun was rapidly setting. They'd started driving around six in the morning, so they couldn't be too far from their destination.
“Close, maybe an hour or so,” she answered
, propping her foot on the dash and munching away at an apple.
“You couldn't handle another hour or two of driving?” he snapped. She laughed, and he knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. He was sore, he was tired, he was grumpy, and ... he'd missed her.
He hated that feeling.
“Someone woke up full of sweetness,” she teased him.
“Screw you.”
“We should make a plan,” she said abruptly, switching subjects and surprising him.
“Plan for what?”
“For how this is all going to go down. You gear up in Florida, then you lead me to Stankovski. Once he's in my sights, then what do you do?” she asked.
There was a wall between them, a mile high and fifty feet thick, and it was there because he'd lied to her. So lying to her again was probably a bad idea, but he did what he thought he had to do in order to keep her safe. Of all his jobs, she had become the most important one. Her health, her survival – that was the payout.
“Then ... I collect what I'm owed,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her flinch. Just for a moment, then her mask of bitchiness was securely in place.
“Kingsley will take us to Miami. He can help you find what you need,” she informed him.
“Are you shitting me? I don't fucking need Kingsley Law to help me with anything,” he spit out. She raised her eyebrows and finally looked at him.
“You know, every time I say his name, you seem to get pissier and pissier. Why is that?” she asked, then took another bite of her apple.
“I don't get pissier. I just don't need Law holding my hand like I've never bought a fucking gun before; Miami was my home base for years, Lily. I got my start there. I'll handle my shit on my own,” he informed her.
“Whatever you say, De Sant. Sounds pretty pissy to me,” she kept her voice light. It just made him angrier.
“How the fuck did you wind up with him anyway?”
“I called him.”
“Law doesn't have a phone number.”
Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) Page 10
