by Stasia Black
“Cora,” Marcus’s brow wrinkled at the sight of her tears.
“More,” she ordered. “I need more.”
With a groan, he thrust hard enough to bang her head on the wall. A shelf above them shuddered. A vase fell and shattered on the floor. Cora didn’t care. Neither apparently did Marcus. Shards of glass crunching under his shoes, Marcus’s only reaction was to carry her to the opposite wall. He gripped her bottom, angling her body to slam his cock deeper.
It was coming, oh, oh! It was coming. Every muscle in Cora’s body spasmed as her orgasm shot through her. Her hand flung out, smacking the hand towel dispenser. With a whirring sound, the dispenser started spitting paper wipes in a long line.
“Fuck, Cora, fuck,” Marcus shouted over the dispenser’s whine. She was moaning, her body drawn taut as a bow. Before she snapped she buried her hands in his dark, silky hair, hanging on for dear life as her orgasm crashed around her.
More paper towels poured out of the dispenser in a white flood, filling the sink. They triggered the soap dispenser, which squirted into the sink, causing the water faucet to start pouring.
Marcus slapped his hand on the wall beside Cora’s head, growling through his climax. “Fuck me. That was—”
“Yeah,” Cora panted. Her body trembled in the wake of pleasure. The world was spinning too fast.
Her husband rested his head beside hers, his eyes closed. Beyond him, water gushed into the sink, soaking the paper towels, threatening to overflow onto the floor. The dispenser was still whirring. Soap squirted again and again, coating the glass shards with scented bubbles.
Marcus and Cora raised their heads at the same time to take in the destruction of the small room.
“Fuck,” Marcus swore again, resigned. He carried her to the far corner, away from the broken glass.
“Typical,” Cora muttered, wriggling away as soon as her feet touched the floor. She wrenched down her skirt. The stockings were a lost cause. She tore the remains off. She sighed. Being with him like this again… It felt good, she couldn’t deny it. Great even. And after everything that had happened with Waters...she’d been so afraid when those gangsters had kidnapped her. She’d needed the reassurance of Marcus’s touch.
But it didn’t change anything. She looked around them and shook her head. “This is why we shouldn’t be together. We’re like...fire and dynamite. We destroy everything we touch.”
“We’re certainly explosive,” Marcus said mildly. He tore off a clean sheet of paper, offering it to her. “But Cora, we belong together. I’d lock you in this room, if I could.”
Couldn’t he see? “That’s not going to work for me, Marcus. If I have your back, I need to know who I’m backing. And I need to know what monsters are out in the darkness, so I can help defend us. So I can help fight.”
His deep eyes stared into hers, pulling her into unfathomable darkness.
“You think that when your enemies come for me they’re going to spare me because you never told me about them? I’m the weak link, Marcus. I don’t want to be anymore.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “You want to know my enemies. I’ll give you the list.”
Her eyes widened; he was actually going to share?
“I don’t need to know everything, Marcus. Maybe start with the major players and work down from there,” she suggested.
His mouth twitched, and for a moment he looked like he would laugh. “Gods, I forgot,” he said.
“What?”
“How cute you are.”
“Marcus. The list.”
“You know Philip Waters. Started in shipping, now owns the largest privately held fleet in the world. Ships oil and goods all over the world. My father helped him get his start, financed some of his first shipments, back when New Olympus was a major port.”
“So what’s the shipment?” She already knew what it was, but she wanted to know if Marcus would tell her the truth finally.
“Drugs. Something new. Supposed to be more benign than coke.”
“Didn’t they say that about heroin?” She pushed out of the bathroom, needing to be out of the small space.
The back room was as empty as they’d left it, their food untouched.
Marcus watched her pace. “You see why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“I know the business you’re in. Better I find out from you than someone else, or worse, just catch a stray bullet.”
He came after her, caught her in his arms. “Never, ever joke about that.” He gave her a little shake.
She put her hands on his arms. “You made your bed. I married you. We both lie in it.”
“I live by a Code. And if I didn’t control the drug market, someone else would. We sell to adults, not kids. The Shades are disciplined; if anyone else moves in, things would get worse. It’d be war.”
“The Titans,” she said, searching his face. “My mother and uncles. They want to move in.”
Marcus swore. He let her go, but she cupped his face with both hands. “Tell me.”
“If we don’t deliver Waters’ shipment and his cut of our take, he’ll bring his business to the Titans.”
“Can you stop them?”
“Not if they ally with Waters. If that happens, things get ugly.”
“What’s ugly?” Cora asked, even though she could guess.
“War,” Marcus confirmed.
Cora blew out a long breath. The Titans aligning with someone like Philip Waters would give them enough power to make a move on New Olympus.
“We’ve been preparing. I wanted to make peace with Waters, but the missing shipment is a sticking point. This drug is his baby, and he wants it back.”
For a moment they sat in silence while Marcus poured a glass of wine and tasted it. He offered it to Cora but didn’t release it. Instead, he tipped the glass until the red liquid washed her lips.
“What about the death threats?” Cora asked.
“What about them?”
“You said you were getting them, going to go into hiding.”
“I’m certain that either the Titans or Waters are behind them. I can’t retreat now, not with things heating up.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “At some point this shit is going to blow over, and we’re going to talk about us.”
She let out a sigh and leaned her head against his chest. She liked hearing his heartbeat and it meant she didn’t have to look him in the face. “Maybe once the death threats let up.”
He ran his fingers through her hair. “You going to have nightmares after all this.” He muttered, sounding unhappy.
“I already do,” she said before she thought it through, and wanted to kick herself when his entire body tensed.
“When we work things out, I‘ll help you get over them.”
His words let loose a flood of desire. She couldn’t stop the shiver that started at the core of her and radiated out into the rest of her body. Marcus’s face got intense and she knew he saw it.
“Come on.” She smoothed down her hair. “They’ll be missing us.”
“Later,” he promised. “Soon.”
At his words, she felt another shiver, but fortunately he didn’t see this one. He was busy pulling open the door, no doubt to signal Sharo it was safe to return. Soon after, Sharo reappeared.
“We good?” Sharo rumbled.
Marcus raised his eyebrows at her.
“For now,” Cora didn’t take her eyes off her husband.
“Good. Because we got a situation.”
Marcus straightened, waved a hand to Sharo to continue talking in front of Cora. She sat quietly, feeling oddly pleased.
“Got word from my contacts inside the force. The shipment was large so they put it in a warehouse for confiscated evidence. One box was opened in his sight, dusted for prints.”
“No way only one box was opened.”
Sharo confirmed. “They opened the rest of them after checking them. Only AJ’s prints on them; our guys wore gloves. But now t
he boxes are empty. Contents removed. My guy checked.”
“How’d he miss it before?”
“Because he’s fucking stupid. Checked one box, didn’t think to check the others.”
Marcus cocked his head, and Cora could tell he was supremely annoyed. “So someone got to the boxes when they were in evidence.”
“Not unlike what we were planning.”
“Who would do that?” Cora asked. “Who had access?”
Marcus leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “I think it’s time we revisited our friend the Mayor.”
Cora bit her lip. She’d been there the night the mayor’s man had promised that the shipment would be returned to Marcus within the week. Obviously that hadn’t happened.
“You won’t get anywhere near him.” Sharo said. “He hasn’t returned our messages for two months—what makes you think you can do it now?”
Marcus glanced at Cora. “A little persistence will wear anyone down.”
Cora resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Marcus was already counting himself the victor.
“Send Cora,” Sharo said. “I bet we can get a meet with the mayor, if she’s the front.”
Cora’s body tightened.
“Absolutely not,” Marcus lost his cool and growled at his second in command.
“What choice do we have?” Sharo shot back. “We’ve tried every channel. She could walk right in, no problem.”
“I don’t want her involved,” Marcus said.
“Like it or not, Waters made the right play,” Sharo said and the room turned arctic.
“What?” Marcus breathed, facing his underboss with enough rancor that Cora put her hand on his arm.
“Don’t like that he took her, but it got you to sit down and chat. Maybe we’ve been going around the wrong way. Someone like her can walk right in—no one sees her as a threat.”
“She’s not—” Marcus started.
“Is it safe?” Cora interrupted.
The two men stared at her.
“You’d be covered. It’s the mayor’s office. No one will touch you,” Sharo said, but her husband spun his chair around and pulled hers closer.
“No, babe,” Marcus cupped her face. “You don’t have to do this.”
It was her fault the cops grabbed the shipment in the first place. Maybe if she could make it right, Marcus would forgive her once he found out what she’d done.
“I want to. I want to help.” She looked into his deep brown eyes, drawing strength from them. “What do I have to do?”
Thirteen
“Is this really necessary?” Cora asked right before Marcus grabbed her from behind and wrapped an arm around her throat.
“I’m not letting you walk into an unknown situation,” he growled in her ear, “I don’t care how public it is, until I’m confident you have some basic skills to take care of yourself. That’s twice you’ve been kidnapped so you’ll forgive me if I’m a tad overprotective of what’s mine. Now. Again.” His arm around her neck cinched tighter.
Just for his comment about her being his, she jabbed especially hard with her elbow into his gut, like he’d spent the last few hours teaching her. She went to stomp on his instep, too, but he maneuvered out of the way. She growled in frustration and he only tightened his arm more.
The bastard had the audacity to laugh. He was fucking laughing at her?
She tried to scream her fury but it was muffled by his giant stupid arm restricting her airflow. Not completely, but enough to be uncomfortable.
The next thing she knew, he’d swept her legs and had her on the mat, his big body crouched over hers.
“How many times do I have to tell you to turn your head to the side to free your airway? You get too excited about jabbing me but you’d be passed out before you had the chance to do any real damage or escape if you don’t remember the basics.”
She bit the inside of her bottom lip. Don’t scream in his face. Don’t scream in his face. It’ll only make him more smug.
They’d been at this for hours and she swore they spent far more time down on the mat, him pinning her and droning on about defensive moves than actually practicing them. She’d told him that yesterday in the bathroom had been a one time slip up and she meant it. They were not back together.
“Turn your head to the right so your windpipe isn’t obstructed, then attack only long enough to get free.”
For once she’d like to get the jump on him.
“All right.” She raised her arms above her head, giving a little stretch that made her breasts jiggle. A thrill of satisfaction went through her when Marcus’s gaze dropped to her form-fitting t-shirt.
“I’m sooo tired,” she mock-yawned. “You’re so big and strong. Fighting you is hard work.”
Marcus’s brows knitted together. Oops, she overdid it. Rubbing a hand over her upper chest to distract him, she offered an innocent smile. “Grab me again?”
This time when his arms closed around her, she turned her head. Her hand went to his groin, but instead of striking, she cupped the hard ridge and gave it a good rub with her palm. Marcus stilled, holding his breath as if wondering what she’d do next.
She lifted her legs, creating unexpected dead weight. When he lurched forward, off balance, she twisted out of his grip and scurried away. Marcus landed on the floor.
“Ha!” She did a victory dance. Her would-be attacker lay face down on the ground, unmoving. Oh crap. “Marcus? Marcus? Did I hurt you?”
She worried her lip, tip-toeing closer. He’d hit the floor pretty hard. Had she hurt him somehow?
Her foot nudged his side and he snapped into action, grabbing her ankle, pulling her leg out from under her. She shrieked but he caught her and cushioned her landing.
Cora found herself once again on her back with a large, aroused male rearing over her. With a stone expression, Marcus grabbed her hand and brought it back to the front of his workout shorts, using her palm to stroke himself, harder than she would’ve done. His eyes were steel. “You think this is funny? A game?”
She shook her head, wide-eyed. Her hair spilled over the floor. “Marcus, I was just—”
“You touch anyone else like that, I’ll kill them.”
She flinched at the vow. He smiled, the corners of his mouth turning sharp. “Other than that, well done.” He raised her palm and kissed it.
She gave a tentative smile. “Thank you?” Her voice went breathless as he licked up her lifeline, a tongue stroke she felt in her groin.
“Marcus,” she wriggled. “Let me go.”
He shook his head. “You made a mistake, angel.” Slowly he lowered himself over her, keeping her pinned. He shook his dark hair from his face. “You should’ve run while you had the chance.”
With a hard hand gripping her right breast, he lowered his head to nip and suck at the vulnerable junction of her throat. And everything in her rose up—all the longing and bone-aching need—a dizzying rush of arousal. Yesterday hadn’t been enough. It would never be enough.
She was almost too far gone when Marcus slid his hand up to lightly collar her throat.
“Cora,” he growled. “My own.” His hand flexed, lightly squeezing the way she used to love, used to beg for, when she was old Cora and willing to succumb, to let him subsume her until she was completely under—
“Mine,” he said, and it was enough to jar her back to reality.
She jerked her knee up—he twisted to block it, but she rammed his inner thigh until he rolled off of her.
She rose, tugging her clothes back into place, willing herself not to face her husband. She could see him in the wall mirror, though. He sat, face carefully blank, watching her from the floor. Part of her longed to comfort him, but to what end? There was a chasm between them, filled with secrets and lies. She couldn’t breach it, not even for a moment. Not even for him.
It was better this way. She would leave and shower and change, and stick to the plan.
“I told you earlier. Yesterday was a mi
stake. I’m not yours.” She headed for the door. “Not anymore.”
Fourteen
When Cora left the locker room, Marcus was already waiting for her, his tall form devastating in one of his tailored suits. His wet hair slicked back from his face was the only sign he’d spent the last hour exerting himself. Proud of the cool nod she gave him, Cora strode past him, only to have her heart and limbs quiver when he fell into step beside her.
“What are you doing?” she snapped when he opened the door for her and followed her out as if he had a right to be there. As if she’d invited him along when he knew that wasn’t the case. When he knew—despite the longing in her chest—that he wasn’t wanted.
“Seeing you home.” The corners of his mouth turned up as if she amused him.
“You said your driver would take me.” She hated the petulant sound of her voice. Especially since he was the unreasonable one. “You said it was safe, that you swept my apartment and it was clear.”
“We did,” he shrugged. “But I’m going the same way. Why waste gas?” He opened the car door for her, looking so sensible and innocent she wanted to kick him.
She spent the entire trip with her arms crossed over her chest, refusing to look at his handsome profile. Her cold shower hadn’t helped. She was so aroused, so aware of him, it physically hurt not to turn and throw herself into his arms.
“One more block,” she whispered to herself, and when the car pulled up to the curb, she threw open the door and leapt onto the sidewalk. Only to find Marcus opening his door and following her again.
“No,” she almost shouted, enraged. “Marcus, you can’t be here. This is my apartment—”
“It’s not, actually,” he murmured, walking right up to the keypad and entering a code. Her mouth almost fell open when the gate unlocked and he opened it for her. “You don’t own the place, you’re only renting.” With a sweep of his palm, he indicated she should precede him. “After you.”
She was inside before she realized she’d obeyed his subtle command. Once he shut the door, she whirled to confront him in the inner courtyard. “Marcus, what are you doing?”
