All is Lost (All Series, Book 2)

by Marie Wathen

  My eyes flutters open sluggishly, finding him staring with darkened irises at me longingly. Finally unlocking his hands from behind his body, Marcus grips me by my upper arms. He pulls away from me, raggedly exhaling with several heavy pants. Searching my face, Marcus takes several slow and cleansing breaths before leaning forward, placing his forehead against mine.

  “Baby I honestly can't take anymore. As much as I fucking hate saying it I have to stop touching and kissing you now,” he says.

  DAMMIT!

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marcus

  A twenty minute cold shower helped take the edge off my need to have sex with Breesan, but sleeping with her is going to be my damn death. However, the need to have her close to me is worth my own demise. Lying back on the bed with her snaking across my body, her head snuggling on my shoulder and leg draping over my thigh is heaven on earth. Currently lying here trying to calm our desires, we have promised not to tease each other, but I know we will fail miserably or at least I will. Whether she's lying on me or on the other side of this damn island, caressing her porcelain skin will always be a burning desire and I'm fucking combustible at her slightest touch. Her hand stroking my dick earlier nearly unmanned me completely.

  Not once in my life have I been so turned on by a woman touching me. Actually I was turned on before that. When Breesan climbed onto the bed, displaying her ass to me, my cock was completely ready to slide between her creamy thighs. From the moment I locked us in the room together I felt like I was reliving a dream that I’ve had repeatedly, even before I laid eyes on Breesan Maxwell. It's such an unbelievable and overwhelming feeling to hold my dream woman.

  Now I just need to get my mind off of her hands and fingers lazily skimming over my body. It will take a miracle for me to forget her fingernails scratching my scalp and ears. Mygod that's sexy as fuck. I suppress a groan, thinking about my itchy need. Focusing on anything but that sexy torture session, our conversation seems to help distract me a little. Unfortunately, not all of me can be so easily distracted.

  “That was a nice attempt at taking my mind off all this bullshit I found myself in. Thank you.” Breesan says, following a yawn.

  “Is that what you think I was doing? Baby you give me more credit than I deserve.”

  I draw her hand up and kiss it and then place it over my chest. Her eyes flare with passion when she glances at her fingertips lying on the head of my dragon tattoo. I chuckle smugly knowing that she is turned on by my ink.

  “Who is Rhys' roommate?” Breesan asks, drawing her hand away from my chest and lifting up on her elbow. Hovering over me, she stares into my eyes, intentionally keeping them from drifting back to my chest.

  As her hair slides down, draping loosely over her silky shoulder from her quick movement, I smile and slide a wild lock behind her ear. Any second now I'm going to wake up and my dream angel will be gone. Lost again in the thought of heavenly groping, I forget the question she’s asked but get drawn back to reality quickly when she tickles my stomach. I nearly leap off the bed and she laughs out of control.

  “Oh, oh, oh! You're so ticklish.” Breesan snorts, leaping back at me with her wiggly little fingers. “Come back over here.”

  “No,” I shake my head, capturing her hands. “You startled me.” I lie bravely staring into her eyes. The truth is I am ticklish as all get out.

  “Mm hmm, if you say so big guy,” Breesan says.

  Smiling ridiculously, I am completely enthralled that she is comfortable enough with me now that she is calling me a playful nickname. Seeing the panic rush across her face, I realize she thinks I took it sexually and so she stammers through an explanation.

  “Big guy because you're so huge…tall, I mean tall. With big muscles…from working out and,” Sighing she says, “Oh mygod I'm going to shut up now.” Crossing her arms over her eyes she hides while giggling softly. Pulling her arms away from her face, I kiss her cheek and join her in laughing. Breesan’s nervousness adds to her panic and makes her even more adorable.

  Sliding off the bed, Breesan grows quiet before she walks over to the window. Placing a hand on the glass, she looks like a lost little girl staring into the dark night. Everything in me screams to protect her and I won't fight the demanding persuasion to safeguard her at all cost. No matter what, keeping Breesan Maxwell from harm is my first concern over everything and anyone. Not only for her, but I need it this way. I never dreamed she would be mine, but I knew it the first night she touched my arm at the Renaissance Castle. Where I thought I was dead inside, Breesan makes me feel alive again. I know I will never find a connection in another living soul, like the one I share with Breesan; and I will fight for it.

  “Ensley is Rhys’ roommate,” I say. “She's the manager at Club Toxic and his connection to get you the job. She won't know anything about what's really going on with you and she damn sure doesn't know about our real jobs. Rhys took her in a couple of months ago when she needed a place to live.” Still staring out the window, Breesan smiles and I add, “There is something about Ensley that sets my nerves on edge. Don't let your guard down around her.”

  Nodding, Breesan turns away from the window, slowly raking her eyes over me. “Are you going to tell me what Sam discovered in Julia's boxes or about my text messages?” She says in a shaky voice. I smile, seeing her visibly shudder at the effect my shirtless body has on her. She reaches over the back of the chair beside her, retrieving my discarded shirt and tossing it at me. “Well?” Her mind never stops. I'll learn one day that even though she may appear sad or lost she is actually cautious.

  Bending at the waist I raise up on the bed. I pull my old, tattered U2 tee shirt over my head then lie back on the large stack of pillows. I cross my arms and place them under my head, seeing her calm almost instantly. She pads over and crawls onto the bed next to me, keeping her feet tucked under her body she leans back on them with her hands gingerly lying in her lap. Her eyes zero in on the logo stretching across the front of my shirt and she bites down hard on her bottom lip. Her innocent look begins to arouse a need in me again. I shift on to my side placing my hand under my head to prop. Still clearly affected by me, she blinks then forces her eyes back to mine.

  “Sam skimmed through the boxes.” I state. Breesan quickly becomes engaged with my explanation. “She wants to make a more thorough sweep through the journals again soon, but she was more interested in doing research on the text messages.”

  “Is there relevance in the texts?”

  “She said the first text message search came back with information on satellites matching those names with the respective dates that were launched to Mars. Of course she found it odd, as do I.”

  “Mars? Yeah that is weird.”

  “So she entered the second text message information and this is when it got really odd.” She sits up straighter, intrigued. “The information on Google search reveals when you type in those two names together it directs you to a wiki link for Ares, Greek god of war. Ares sons were Deimos (Fear) and Phobos (Terror).”

  Laughing, she asks, “What?”

  “Okay so that doesn't really explain anything, but during Sam’s research she discovered that the Roman god of war is Mars.” I pause, checking to make sure she’s still with me. She narrows her eyes at me, like she thinks I’m not going to finish, or that I was editing to keep the truth from her.

  “The only thing that doesn’t make sense is the correlation of Mars with Tristan being alive, but Sam also doesn't believe that your last text was about Tristan. And I agree with her. The text messages must be about something other than Julia and Dr. A.”

  “Who? I don’t really know anyone except for Anna and Tristan.”

  “Right, well.... Unless by some chance Dr. A's real name is Ares and we've wasted time going around the world trying not to make all this hell surrounding you about him just because Rhys won’t buy it.” I snort at the thought. “We'll keep searching through what we have, but we need to get more boxes from your attic soon
.” Judging her reaction about all that I have shared, I see that she really isn't shocked.

  “Okay. You can get a copy of my key made. Unless you already have one.”

  “No,” I shake my head. “Julia would never allow someone on her payroll to have access to her personal world. She was extremely paranoid. I know she didn’t trust me completely. But she was right about one thing. I do have a bit of a crush on you.” I smirk, but her expression grows harder suddenly.

  “Tell me what you really think about me working at Club Toxic. I understand that you're bothered by Ensley, but is there some other reason you don't want me doing this? Because I feel like I need to do this for Anna and Waverly. And I really want your support.” She sighs, glancing at me from under her long lashes.

  “You will always have my support. I don't like the idea of you working at the club. It’s not just a teen hangout anymore and it makes me crazy thinking about the kind of men that hang out there, who might try something with you.” She gasps, hearing my explanation. Defensively, she crosses her arms over her chest and frowns at me. “I know you can handle yourself.” She nods still eyeing me suspiciously. “It's not even about that. I just can't stand the thought of how you'll be dressed, and every man in that damn place ogling your sweet little body–which by the way, belongs to me.” I tease, stroking a finger down her thigh. She shudders under my touch then grabs my hand placing it back down on the bed.

  “Stop,” Breesan whispers in a husky voice.

  “Honestly, I don't know what damn good it's going to do sending you in there. With the description you gave earlier we should be able to find them and handle it without risking your life further.” I sigh, rubbing my hand over my face then pinching the bridge of my nose. “All this shit is giving me a fucking migraine. If something happens to you I will literally lose it.” She covers her hand over mine and I frown. “Will you promise me that you'll only observe the people there and let me or Kole handle everything?”

  Nodding, she covers her mouth with the back of her hand, letting out a long, squeaky yawn. Realizing I'm exhausted too, I stretch and my body protests. Currently lying on top of the comforter, I turn back the top edge then shift around until I'm under it. Stretching my arms above my head I lie on my back then pat on the space next to me indicating my desire for her to lie beside me. She wiggles under the covers, staying on the opposite side of the bed and disappointment seeps into my chest. Breesan is entirely too far away from me, but I don't want to make her uncomfortable.

  Turning my head searching for a clock, I spot it glowing on the desk across the room and notice it is well after midnight. I haven’t slept with a woman in months and typically stand behind my rule of not staying over for the night, but between the chaos and being so damn wound up in desire for her, none of that seems to matter. Having Breesan in bed with me makes every fucked up part of all of this worth it.

  Cool air on my arm makes me aware of her hand snaking under the covers toward me. I smile like an idiot, pleased that she needs me too. I retrieve her tiny hand, hauling her over to me. She snakes her entire body around me and we fall into a comfortable, deep sleep.

  It is after twelve the next day by the time Ensley wakes up and finally meets Breesan, aka Beatrice. It's an odd name that Rhys chose for her alias while working at the local Goth club, Club Toxic, but Breesan doesn't seem to mind. Keeping her identity hidden until we can locate and apprehend the other two men involved in the abductions is vital in keeping Breesan alive. I fucking hate using her as bait, so more than anything her safety is my top priority.

  According to Rhys the club is closed tonight so Ensley has today to get Breesan ready for the part of Goth chic. Breesan and I sit at the kitchen table sharing a cup of yogurt, and some grapes, because there are not many other options in the bare ass refrigerator.

  We exchange concerned glances while listening to an obnoxious Ensley talk ugly about every employee at the club. Since she started gossiping, Ensley has claimed twice that she hates when the employees drag her perfect reputation through the rumor-mill, but that's exactly what she has been doing for the past forty-five minutes. Her brown eyes dance with excitement with each new revelation of someone’s dirty little secret, validating my reason for feeling uneasy with Ensley.

  An attractive woman, Ensley is petite like Breesan, but too skinny for my liking. Her hair is shoulder length and straight shiny black with purple stripes that goes well with the gothic look, fostered by the club. She is hyper, jittery and the shrill in her voice sets off a niggling sensation in the back of my head, reawakening my migraine. Frustrated with her, I exhale too loudly, revealing my annoyance. It draws Breesan and Rhys’ attention, but Ensley remains ignorant to the fact.

  “Yeah so Beatrice,” Ensley says, rushing her words together. “Do you go by something else? Beatrice is so formal. Although, it's perfect for the club atmosphere it is a little stuffy for friends. And we are friends now so I think I'll call you Trice or Bea. Yeah?” She doesn’t give Breesan a chance to answer before she adds, “Okay, so we'll get you a hot new wardrobe from Xtreme Me's today.” I glance at Rhys, thinking about allowing Breesan out in public now that she’s supposed to be gone. He simply shakes his head. “You're cute, but give me some time and you are going to look amazing. Oh, and we have to do something with your hair. The trend right now is shaving one side and keeping the other long.” She hums then says, “Yeah that would be a great look for you. There's a stylist a couple of streets away from the shop. We could swing by after and get you cut, colored and ready for Toxic. What do you want to do with your hair Beatrice?” Finally, Ensley takes a breather, allowing someone else the chance to speak. The last question hangs in the air unanswered.

  Previously distracting myself from her insane chattering with a crossword puzzle, my head snaps up at the significance of what she's asking and I catch Breesan staring at me. My beautiful Breesan has long sexy dark brown hair and I would be unhappy to see what damage Ensley will do if she agrees to changing it. Breesan notices the concern on my face and she reciprocates with a strange glare then offers me a wink before answering.

  With a mouth full of grapes Breesan says, “Ooh I've always wanted to play dress up” She grins at me, adding, “and having a new hairstyle would be fan freakin- tastic, but a sexy wig could be so freaking cool too.” She lies, giggling like Ensley has for the past hour. I smirk knowing that she's playing up her role as Beatrice. She winks at me again, settling my worry. “Let's check out the wigs and then I'll decide.”

  “We are going to have so damn much fun.” Ensley squeals, wiggling uncontrollably in her seat, excited by Breesan’s enthusiasm.

  Overly excited about her new best friend, Ensley knocks over her nearly full cup of coffee. Leaping out of her seat, she bangs her knee on the table leg and squeaks out in pain. Dashing over to the counter to grab a towel, Ensley continues babbling about their shopping plans for the day. Rhys puts a hand on her frantic arm, halting her movement and Ensley shrieks then jerks violently away from him.

  “Easy there babe,” Rhys says calmly. “How about you take a shower and I'll clean the rest of this off the table? Then Marcus and I can drive you girls to the store. Afterward we can grab something to cook for dinner tonight.”

  I give him a noncommittal shrug, but knew before he mentioned it that I would be accompanying Breesan. I look over at Breesan and she appears to have no objections with Rhys plans. I would prefer that Sam go down and do the shopping for her, but she’s giving her statement to the Baldwin county sheriff’s investigators about her involvement in the abductions. Ensley aggressively tosses the hand-towel into the sink after half-ass sopping up the spilled coffee and pouts.

  “I guess.” Ensley grunts, the disappointment etched in her features amplifies her bitter tone. This girl's mood swings could give a tennis line judge whiplash.

  The newspaper crossword puzzle no longer offers solace so I stand and slide my chair under the table. Breesan follows my lead and leaps to her feet eager
ly. I chuckle and escort her upstairs. Once we are behind closed doors Breesan belly-flops across the bed and groans loudly into the mattress.

  Amused by her display, confirming the fact that I'm not the only one happy with being out of Ensley's neurotic presence, I smile waiting for Breesan to get it all out of her system. God she is so full of life. Where has this girl been hiding? Leaning against the door, I feel the knock at the same time I hear it. Breesan flips over on her back, lifts her head shaking it dramatically.

  With a finger lying over her lips she says in an exaggerated whisper, “If it's that crazy ass woman do not answer that damn door!”

  Her seriousness causes me to burst into a fit of laughter. The sound carries through the closed, thick, wood door apparently because we hear the person on the other side laughing too. Rhys' mocking laughter on the other side causes us to laugh louder. Aggressive fist pounding begins when I fail to open the door fast enough.

  “Open the fucking door Marcus.” Rhys growls. Breesan covers her mouth stifling another laugh and I shrug innocently.

  “What's up?” I ask, opening the door. Rhys rushes in, crossing the span of the room in a flash and drops a pile of clothes on the dresser for Breesan. I poke my head into the hallway, checking for any stragglers.

  “She's in the shower,” Rhys huffs. That explains why Ensley isn’t trailing behind him. “Oh my, fucking lord. She has never been so erratic before. Do you think she's on something?” He asks, narrowing his eyes and analyzing my reaction.

  “Man if she isn’t on something illegal then she needs to be on something legal.” I snort. “Ensley’s damn personality shifts are quicker than the transmission in a fucking Lexus ISF. I don't think I can deal with that all evening, much less until this bullshit is over.” I rub my temple where the pain continues to throb.