by Marie Wathen
“You Sonuvabitch.” Jack lurches forward, like an emaciated beast attacking a crumb of food, gathering Morgan by the collar of his leather duster and drawing him close to his face. “I should beat your ass for the way you treated her.”
“Damn right you should,” Morgan agrees, keeping his tone cool and body relaxed.
“She is too fucking, good for the likes of your sorry Walker ass. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. I vow to you, as long as I’m alive, you will never again lay your hands on my sister.”
Jack shoves Morgan roughly into Kole, stalks past them with Ian shrugging and lifting his hands. Guilty eyes land on me and I offer Morgan an understanding smile. It is not my place to judge him for his contemporary relationship. His daringness to carry on salaciously with Waverly behind her less than lenient brother’s backs is his own personal jail. I won’t condemn him too.
I continue watching the brother’s charge away from us and then climb into a blazing red, late model Camaro, before turning around to my group. Finding Marcus starring daggers at his sibling, I snake my arm around his waist and like clockwork his attention shifts to me. His dark eyes transform to vibrant beams, lighting up like the spark you get from crossing two live wires.
Tac bumps my shoulder with his arm. “Enough drama for one night?” He asks, flashing a devilish grin revealing amazing white teeth, made positively brighter against his olive skin tone.
His playfulness and warm smile is contagious. It’s only a moment before my cheeks are hurting from countering his expression. I have a feeling that our horrible meeting will not impede the development of a good friendship. Tac is absolutely right, tonight’s drama is more than enough for me; but as nuts as it is right now, I’m assured that the amount the future holds will be overflowing before it is finally finished.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Marcus
“Ohgod,” Breesan whines dismally, pulling her hand away from mine in front of Morgan and the rest of my team splayed out around Rhys’ living room. “You have got to be kidding?”
I glance down at the sad pout on her lips and know that I can’t offer her an ounce of comfort. No sooner than we crossed the threshold of Rhys’ house, Kole informs me that there is a lead on Dr. A and Julia. Apparently, the previous report we received about them heading to the Virgin Islands was bad information. About an hour ago an undercover agent working in the Keys provided zoomed in pictures of the Catching A’rea via text message, complete with embedded geotags, proving his exact location. Our department head sent down orders for me and Sam to leave tonight.
“Come upstairs with me while I pack.”
Breesan nods. Her eyes remain downcast and arms cinched around her waist before following me. Continuing to remain quiet and desperately avoiding looking at me, she sits perched on the edge of the bed, legs dangling while staring at a thin silver toe-ring clasped on her foot. Shoving enough clothes for a week into my suitcase, I zip it closed and sit it on the floor at the foot of the bed. I scoot back over in front of her and stand with my thighs pressed against her knees.
“Will you promise me that you will not leave this house or the club without Kole while I’m out of town?” I ask, placing my hand gently under chin, tipping her face up to look at me. Storms brew in her beautiful eyes, but the toughness I love about her jumps forward.
Sighing softly, she answers, “Yes.”
“If I could get out of leaving, you know I would, right?” I compel, staring deep into her glistening eyes.
“I know,” Breesan’s lips turn up into a weak smile before adding, “but you must go. I’m just…going to miss you.” A soft chuckle escapes her slightly parted lips and stubborn determination encroaches her beautiful eyes before she continues, “I’ll do exactly as you ask, if you promise to be safe.”
“Then I know you will do as I request,” waving my hand dismissively, I reassure her, “I take my job very seriously, but for you I’ll make sure to take every precaution possible.”
Lowering my lips to hers, I kiss her softly sealing our deal. Afterward, she wraps both arms around my neck, tucks her face against my chest and sighs contently.
***
Our private jet lands at Key West International early the next morning. We take the rental car to meet with our informant, a homeless guy living in the park off Atlantic on the east side of the island. The mid summer sun blares through the lightly tinged front windshield of the ten year old sedan as we pull into an empty space at the back of a vacant commercial building adjacent to the park. Most of the windows are busted and covered with black plastic. The front door is off its hinges and propped against the outside wall. No one has done business in this place in a long time.
Sam climbs out of the car when she spots a guy skulking out of the doorway scanning both directions then eyes her suspiciously. He nods a couple of times and she glances over her shoulder at me indicating we found our guy. I check my duty weapon and ease out from behind the steering wheel. As I approach, the man’s attention shifts to me and he becomes defensive, taking a rigid stance and indicating he isn’t going to cooperate easily with us.
“Who’s dat?” Directing his question to Sam, the dirty vagrant glowers nervously at me.
“He’s my partner, Investigator Marcus Walker.” Sam’s voice is low and tender. “We were told you have some information for us. Is there somewhere we can go to get out of this heat?”
Grunting loudly, he peers back at the dilapidated building before shrugging his shoulders and staggering back through the entryway. My nerves begin jumping around erratically warning me that following him into these ruins is probably a really bad idea. Hoping that it is only because I am here with my sister, I shrug it off and duck through the spider web covered entrance, following Sam and the old guy down a filthy, damp hallway.
The putrid smell of heavy drug usage blasts me upon joining them in a tiny room that most likely in its former life was used as a supply room. In the front corner a desk is pushed against the wall with a basket sticking out from under it filled with his baubles, including bundles of copper, drug paraphernalia and electronics that are no doubt stolen. In this world, noosed around the neck by drugs, shamelessly stealing anywhere and from anyone is the norm. Crossing the room I stand behind Sam, who has taken the only seat while the guy hoists himself on top of the desk.
“So, ya both are Walkers,” he says, staring between us, “You a couple?”
A small laugh escapes Sam at him implying that because we share the same last name we are married.
“No. Just a coincidence,” she says taking the lead due to her experience and his uneasiness with me.
“Humph, well I’m not sure if I wanna deal wit’ him.”
“You’ll deal with both of us or the arrangement you made with the DEA to lessen the charges for your involvement is no longer on the table,” Sam threatens.
“Fat lot a good dats gonna do me, I gots charges with the county on some bogus possession of forged instrument and I don’t see dem doing a damn thing to make dat go away.”
“Tell us what you know. If your information pans out, I’ll contact a friend to see if he can pull some strings,” she bargains cleverly.
The guy gives some sketchy information about another “friend” of his, who knows a guy, which worked with another buddy, who fell into a job working for Dr. A, or at least working with one of his minions. It all sounds like a crock of shit to me and I am really pissed that he robbed my time away from Breesan. I cannot help feeling like it was a mistake leaving her behind while she remains a sitting target for the mother fuckers who want her dead.
The only thing that makes me feel a slight bit better is leaving her in the capable hands of Kole. Knowing he secretively has a crush on Breesan, I wisely decide to double up the efforts of keeping her safe and before leaving I enlisted Morgan’s help. No, he’s not qualified to protect her like Kole, but Morgan will make sure Kole doesn’t put the moves on her while I am in the furthest point south of the
United States, dealing with this goat roping.
During our talk, after he returned home I could tell something changed in Morgan. I am not stupid enough to believe that he has given up on pursuing Breesan, but something about his whole behavior is different…off. Leaving out details, Sam said he confided in her about what happened after he took off from the grad party. She also believes that he may have had the hell scared out of him. Whatever it is, I can’t trust him fully with Breesan, but for now I am forced to trust him some.
“I’m beat,” Sam groans while stretching across her double bed. After finishing up the meeting we checked into the overpriced, historic resort a few blocks away from the park, wanting to stay in the vicinity of our informant.
“Me too,” I agree, feeling every bit of the twenty-eight hours that I’ve been awake. “Do you want to go out for dinner or order in room service?”
“I may be too tired to stay awake for it.” She yawns, proving her point. “You might convince me if you order a cuppa.”
I smile, hearing the familiar term, “Done.”
About forty-five minutes later, Sam hops out of the shower just as the porter delivers our Cuban sandwiches and Sam’s favorite beverage. After I tip him and close the door, she nearly clobbers me getting her refreshments. I laugh at how quickly her spirits lift with such a mundane cuisine.
“Hmm, so good,” she mumbles, sipping her tea after taking a huge bite of her sandwich.
Wanting to engage her in conversation while she’s revitalized, I cut straight to the chase. “Will anything come from the crap info he gave us today?”
“Yeah.” Smirking, she bobs her head as she chews the last bite of her sandwich. “I am a tech guru remember.” She counters confidently, knowing that I am always astounded by her abilities with computers and surveillance. “He gave me more than enough information to work with.” Swallowing down the last of her tea, Sam smiles like a silly ass, “Especially, from his cell.”
“He had a cell? That surprises me. As bad as that junkie’s habit appears I can’t imagine him holding onto anything of value. I guess he needs one to get in touch with his pusher. What do you have in mind?”
“Can’t tell you all my secrets little brother, but I will let you know that after I stored my number in his phone, I flipped through his call log. He doesn’t have many contacts. But the ones he has will tell me all of his secrets, without even realizing it. I’ll just do some technical voodoo and voila, we’ll have our contact.” She smiles proudly before continuing, “He was very cryptic, like he thought he was 007, which really pissed me off. Luckily, I don’t need to break his code to get to the friend of the buddy, of the blah, blah, blah. I’ll have him once I crank up my laptop and get a dump on his phone.”
“Nice. Are you up for it tonight? Because I’d like to get this shit over with and get back home straight away,” I beg anxiously.
Sitting beside me on the sofa, legs curled under her body, Sam tips her head to the side and eyes me suspiciously. She knows damn well that I am ready to get back to Breesan and that it is killing me to leave her with my brother.
“I’ll give you credit, you are taking all of this much better than I expected.”
Not wanting to tip my hand too quickly, I feign ignorance, “What are you talking about sis?”
“Shut up.” Chuckling, she narrows her eyes at me and shakes her head. “You know you are freaking out about leaving Breesan in Morgan’s hands…”
“She’s not in his hands,” I bark, cutting off her thought.
Raising her hands in surrender, she places one on my arm in an attempt to soothe me. “Sorry, I guess I was wrong.”
“Yes, you are!” I confirm, feeling the anger rapidly boiling up in my chest.
“No, I mean about you taking it so well. Apparently, talking about it is a bad idea. Let’s change the subject.” She insists still laughing.
“I hate it. I don’t want her out of my sight, and leaving her with him is fucking killing me. If he tries something…” I trail off, releasing her hand and scrubbing mine through my hair. I can’t stand the thought of him near her, but I trust Breesan, something I couldn’t fathom with Elise.
“He’ll get shot down. Just like every time before you two were a couple. Breesan’s a good girl, too good for him. Not that I don’t think Morgan deserve a good girl. It’s just not Breesan. And she doesn’t feel anything except friendship for him, Marcus.”
Feeling my anger plateau with her emphatic words, I turn my head toward her and find that she is studying me. The tension in my body is wound tight, my hair is disheveled, and my damn right leg rhythmically bounces uncontrollably to the pounding beat of blood coursing through my body. Leaning back against the large stiff sofa, I cross my arms over my chest loosely and release a loud breath through my nearly locked jaw.
I have got to get my shit together.
“Why didn’t you talk to me about her? The one thing I love most about our relationship is that you have always been open with me. But when you started dating her, you shut down. I know you didn’t want Morgan to know that you were seeing her and that’s understandable. I just thought it was different between us.”
“What?” Feeling completely rocked by what she’s saying, I actually flinched at her pained accusation. “We haven’t had a free minute to discuss what’s happening between us, much less an opportunity for me to share with you.”
“Not Breesan,” She says, drawing out the time between saying the other name, as if she really doesn’t want to say it loud. It’s not like Elise will suddenly appear just by mentioning her. “Elise.”
Sam is right though. I never spoke to her about Elise. I can’t really explain what truly went on in my head when she and I first began, but something in me warned that I needed to keep our relationship under wraps from everyone. Groaning internally, I feel my leg bounce even faster and consciously fight the desire to storm out of the room as an old memory inundates my mind.
It’s a cold morning and I’m up before the sun for my jiu-jitsu class. During the week I run ten miles in the mornings and end the night at the gym near university lifting weights. As much as I can see the positive effects on my sculpted frame from my normal routine, it doesn’t offer a mental challenge at all. So about six months ago I started training in the Brazilian art of karate.
Picking up my gym bag as I pass the bedroom, I bang hard on the door, “Morgan!”
“What?” he croaks with a scratchy voice filled with sleep.
“I’m out of here. There was a message on the answering machine for you to call dad when you get your ass up. He needs to confirm your travel itinerary for next week. Call him Morg!”
“Yeah,” his voice is muffled from the pillow.
I bang on the door again then head out of the apartment. He didn’t drag in until three this morning and a couple of hours sleep is not nearly enough to deal with Barret Walker. I’ll have to wake him again after my class or it will be me dealing with dad. And there is nothing I hate more - especially, when Morgan is the one he wants interning with him at Walker Corporation, UK, and not me.
It’s still dark out and there are only a couple of cars in the parking lot when I arrive at the gym. I spot my instructor, Parker McLaurin walking in as I approach the doorway. On his arm is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She hasn’t looked at me yet; all of her focus is devoted to the cell phone in her hand. I follow behind them and notice that his hand is snaked around her waist, his fingers digging into her hip, but she’s completely unaffected.
She’s tall and thin with bouncy, red curls pulled tight into a ponytail hanging down to her ass. And damn, that ass is right plump. Her abs and arms are defined, but not overly done. She has a natural tan complexion with freckles lightly scattered all over her body, which is barely covered by the gray and green sports bra and tiny green spandex shorts. Still attentively focused on her cell as we reach the front desk, she walks around and sits on the stool next to Parker, who leans against the
counter.
“Marcus, you’re early. I’ve got you down for seven. Did you mix up the time mate?” Parker asks jokingly, pushing his blonde wavy bangs out of his blue eyes, after checking his schedule on the calendar.
Parker is tall and thin, with what could be described as a runner’s body. He is not bulked up, but his upper body strength is sick. I’ve been to MMA matches and watched him take down men twice his size, packed with muscles. Due to his smaller frame he is agile and lithe which is what makes his skills unmatchable in the arena. Parker’s looks would be what women consider gorgeous. They sure as hell follow him around drooling like he is a living Adonis. For what he charges in private lessons, I’d say he knows his value too. From the rumors that circulate the gym, his cocky attitude doesn’t deter all the hot babes and rich wives from wanting more than a workout. His schedule stays booked.
“Yeah you’re right Parker, I’m early. Need to hit the bag a little before our class, just come get me when you’re ready,” I state, chancing a look at the little redhead, but she only cut her eyes at me briefly before going back to her phone.
“Will do man.”
I grab my bag and head into the locker room. I change into my shorts and flip through my play lists on my iPod. I pick an angry workout play list hoping it will push me through the next hour of cardio and punching bag. Just this morning I had downloaded Cobra Starship and their song “Good Girls Go Bad” is the first song on the line up to play when she walks into the weight room. I watch her move around the room from one apparatus to another expertly. Not being the only person in the room, I don’t expect her to notice me, and she doesn’t.
After a frustrating thirty minutes of sexy distractions, I switch to lifting weights. I attempt to focus on my workout and not the taunting woman, wearing nearly nothing, as she swings her hips seductively while moving around the room, but I fail…again. Swallowing the bitter pill of lost concentration, I drop the two-hundred-ten pound weight from my standing position and stalk out of the equipment room, in search of Parker. My body is so rigid from trailing her with my eyes the entire time. I cannot feel one good effect of my workout.
