Release Me If You Can

by Christina C Jones

  That haunted look in Renata’s eyes ran deep. Naomi could only imagine the emotional terror she’d suffered at his hands, because he was able to use her child — her heart— as a bargaining chip. Naomi didn’t want that.

  He probably already thought she owed him something, after taking care of Victor Lucas. It didn’t surprise her to find that Lucas had been behind the attempt on her life and or freedom. It did surprise her that Wolfe had stepped in as protector. And what had Lucas revealed to Wolfe before he met his death? Was that how Wolfe knew about she and Marcus? There were so many questions without answers, so many unknown variables that it made her head spin. How on earth could she be responsible for bringing a child into that?

  But then… there was Marcus. And as much as she didn’t want to calculate his feelings into making this decision, she couldn’t help it. Whether or not she cared to admit it, she… loved him. How could she not consider what he wanted, when as he said… the baby was his?

  Licking her lips to relieve their sudden dryness, she pulled away to look up at his face. A sharp pang echoed in her chest at the sight of his just slightly glossed eyes.

  “Naomi,” he said, his voice strained. “I know this is your decision… it’s your body… your health that you’ll be sacrificing. And I understand your fears, baby, I swear I do. But… please… can you just think about it a little longer before you decide? Just… give me a little more time, Beautiful. I know we’re supposed to be doing this takedown the “right” way, but if I have to walk into Wolfe’s house, put a bullet between his eyes myself, I will. I didn’t know this until it became a reality, but… I really want us to have this baby. If Wolfe is your only fear, the only thing giving you pause about moving forward with the pregnancy… let’s terminate him… not the baby.”

  With those words, Naomi’s dam broke, and tears flooded her face. Sniffling, she lifted her arms to wrap around Marcus’s shoulders, and he picked her up, carrying her to the window seat where he sat down, then pulled her into his lap.

  She buried her face against his neck as she cried, breathing in his scent, and enjoying the warmth of his hand as he ran it up and down her spine. They stayed like that for a long moment, and then finally, she lifted her head and met his gaze.

  Cupping his face in her hands, she gave him the best smile she could through her tears, then leaned to press her lips to his. When she pulled back, she ran a hand over his hair then tipped forward a little, so their foreheads were touching. Then… she nodded.

  “I’ll give it a little more time.”

  Instant relief took the tension out of Marcus’s shoulders, and he exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time, waiting for an answer. He pulled her tight against him, planting another on her head before he lowered his mouth to her ear for a quietly- spoken “thank you.”

  Naomi closed her eyes, allowing Marcus to keep her pulled close. “Thinking about it” a little more sounded good, and seemed like the right thing to say, but the truth was… she’d already made her decision.

  She just hoped everything would be okay.

  — & —

  Pregnant.

  Pregnant.

  Marcus turned that word over in his mind again and again, but it still barely seemed to sink in that it was his reality. Naomi — his Naomi — was pregnant.

  She was sleeping now, tucked under his arm in the darkness that covered the bedroom. They hadn’t talked about it again since she’d told him, earlier in the evening. She’d washed her face, and they joined the rest of the team for a debriefing over dinner. Visibly, Naomi seemed engaged with the conversation, but Marcus knew what was actually happening in her mind — she was freaking out about the baby.

  And really, he was too. If she was six weeks pregnant, that meant that she was pregnant when she’d gotten attacked. The doctor had told her everything looked fine, but looking fine and being fine weren’t the same thing, especially when it came to babies. He knew that first hand, since his niece Sophie had been born with an abnormality of her spine that none of the ultrasounds had picked up. She was barely two days old before going into her first surgery, and although she was a healthy, happy little girl now, well enough to dance in Naomi’s class, that could have easily not been the case.

  What if something like that happened with them?

  Marcus pushed out a heavy sigh, and Naomi stirred, shifting positions to prop her leg over his thigh. She snuggled a little closer, then drifted back into her deep sleep as Marcus pushed the negative thoughts from his mind.

  Sophie was only six, but there had been many medical innovations in six years. If something was wrong, they would be able to know, and prepare beforehand.

  He hoped.

  Just like Naomi, he wanted a family too. Yeah, he had Megan and Sophie, both of whom he adored, but he wanted… something more. Something he’d not even seriously considered before Naomi.

  He gave a quiet snort.

  Of course he would start thinking about a wife and kids while involved with a daredevil career thief/ undercover FBI agent / niece of a ruthless crime lord. Of course.

  But… he wasn’t sure that mattered. What mattered was that Naomi was smart as hell, interesting, and as hard as it had been to see it at first, warm-hearted. And beautiful. And… more important than anything else… he loved her.

  So, yeah, he wanted her to have his child, wanted to make her his wife.

  And just like with everything else he decided he wanted, he would make it happen.

  He just had a rabid animal to get out of the way first.

  “Marcus.”

  He looked down at Naomi, surprised to see that her eyes were open. They were still slightly swollen from sleep, but she seemed wide awake as she climbed on top of him, straddling his legs. Marcus raised his hands to cup her butt as she lowered her mouth to his.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked, when she pulled away from the kiss. She stayed pressed against his chest, her expression pensive as she waited for his reply.

  He shook his head. “Not mad… just… apprehensive. Terrified of what may happen, no matter which decision you make.”

  “Will you be mad if I decide not to keep it?”

  Marcus closed his eyes. That was a much harder question to answer. “Um… I really can’t say. I’m sorry. But I want you to make the decision that feels right for you… not the one you feel will make me happy.”

  “But I want to make you happy. I love you.”

  He kissed her forehead, moving his hands up to rub her back. “I love you too… which is I want you do what makes you feel secure. I want you to be comfortable.”

  She nodded, then slid her hands between them, to his boxers. “Can we…?”

  Marcus chuckled. From the beginning, sex had been the way they connected, and it seemed like that was still the case now. He kissed her, then nodded, and she wasted no time getting his boxers down, removing her panties, and sinking onto him.

  He groaned, gripping her thighs to keep her close, to keep himself buried in her damp heat. With his hands, he explored her body in the dark while she rode him, quietly whimpering and moaning her pleasure. Would he get to see her figure change, get to experience the wonder of her hips spreading, belly growing, breasts swelling to nourish their child? He drew her down, against his chest as her movements became erratic. He was teetering on the edge himself, and wanted to feel her close.

  Even after their climaxes came and went, he kept his arms around her. He didn’t want her to move, just wanted to stay just like this, in this moment of pleasure and peace, where nothing else mattered.

  eight.

  “Why doesn't he like me?”

  Quentin hung back, just out of view behind the concrete block wall that separated the indoor basketball court from the tiny area Naomi and Tomiko used to dance. From where he was, he could see both girls in the mirror, dressed in spandex leggings and sports bras. He really didn't mean to be a creep, watching them — especially Naomi, who had been his friend for
years — when they didn't know he was there, but... fine ass girls, dressed in next to nothing? ...It really wouldn't hurt anything to enjoy the view, just for a minute.

  In response to Tomiko's question, Naomi groaned, shaking her head before she planted her feet, then lowered her upper body into a stretch. “I don't know,” she finally answered, her voice carrying a slight strain from being upside down. “You'll have to ask him.”

  Quietly, Quentin scoffed. Naomi was lying her ass off. She knew exactly why he wasn't interested in Tomiko, and it had everything to do with her over-eager attitude. Tall, well-built, and handsome enough — even at just eighteen years old — that women between 18-30 were pretty much an all-he-could-eat-buffet, he wasn't interested in easy. He wanted a challenge, and Tomiko was anything but.

  He watched as she cut her eyes at Naomi, then sat down on the floor to begin stretches of her own. “Don't bullshit me, Mimi. You're his best friend, you know him better than anybody.”

  “I don't keep up with who he's messing with though.”

  “But I bet you know more than you're letting on. What type of girls does he like?”

  Pulling herself into a stand, Naomi huffed, then turned to face Tomiko. “Smart ones.”

  “Are you saying I'm not smart?”

  Naomi shrugged. “Not the kind he likes. Quentin deals with a lot of girls, but he's picky. He likes pretty Grambling girls, with double majors. Hot biochemical grad students. Hell, hot computer science professors — and we've only been out of high school a month. You're pretty, and you're smart Tomiko, but I don't think you're his type.”

  Tomiko stared at Naomi for a moment before she threw her head back and laughed. Quentin knew why.

  Tomiko was more than pretty — she was fine as hell. Pretty caramel skin, tight slender body, almond shaped eyes, and long, thick hair that she wore straightened — she had an exotic look that was the stuff of some men’s fantasies, but... a fantasy she would remain, because of that damned attitude.

  “So, you're saying he's like, gay? If I'm not his type...”

  “Girl, hell no,” Naomi said, scrunching her face into a scowl. “You know damn well that's not the case. He likes a cute, funny, laid back, sweet girl. That ain't you.”

  “Or you.” Tomiko shot those words back with a smirk as she stood and faced Naomi.

  Shaking her head, Naomi rubbed her hands on the front of her leggings as she laughed. “Damned right. I'm not sweet or laid back, and not trying to be. I do just fine with men either way. You, on the other hand, are a brat. That's why you can't keep a boyfriend. But with me and Quentin, neither of us is checking for each other like that. You're the one with the crush -- my feelings aren't hurt because he doesn't like me like that.”

  Tomiko crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. He's a nerd anyway.”

  “Hottest nerd you've ever seen in your life,” Naomi giggled. Despite the truth in her statement that they didn't like each other “like that”, Quentin grinned. “Don't stand there and act like you weren't just digging for details.”

  “Thought you didn't like him?” Tomiko retorted, rolling her neck.

  Naomi laughed louder. “I don't, but I'm not blind. Quentin is fine. Him being my friend doesn't detract from that.”

  Under her breath, Tomiko grumbled. “If you say so, bitch.”

  “I do.” Walking past her to retrieve her ipod from the table, Naomi patted Tomiko on the shoulder. “But girl, if I'm a regular bitch, you're princess bitch. Have your daddy buy you a crown.”

  “At least I've got one.”

  Quentin knew those words were a mistake before Tomiko was half through saying them, but it took her a second longer to realize it. She clapped her hand over her mouth, then just barely avoided the fist Naomi aimed in her direction.

  “I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” She yelped, cowering behind her hands as Naomi advanced on her with violence in her eyes. “I didn't even mean to say that, it just came out!”

  “And that's why nobody wants your ass,” Naomi snapped, getting right in Tomiko's face, almost nose to nose. “You're always saying some slick, unnecessary shit. Maybe if you actually tried to be a decent person, your looks would get you further, instead of fucked and left behind, which by the way, is what Quentin does. That's the other part of his type — girls who aren't clingy or desperate. Somebody has his heart already, and it isn't me, isn't gonna be any of these girls he fools around with, and damn sure won't ever be you.”

  Damn, Mimi.

  Naomi wasn’t lying about not being “sweet”, but she usually kept her vicious streak tucked in. A moment like this where she was being outright malicious was rare — and just like now, well-deserved. Tomiko knew Naomi’s parents were a sensitive issue, and it wasn’t like Naomi’s “have your daddy buy it” comment was off base. All Tomiko ever talked about was what she had, where she’d gone, and who’d bought it for her, in a very “I get everything I want cause daddy buys it” tone. Quentin hadn’t confronted her about it yet because he just didn’t care enough, but “daddy” was broke, and living way beyond his means.

  So maybe that’s why she was sensitive about it now… the money had run out.

  But… more important — and more interesting — was Naomi’s assessment that someone “had his heart already”. That confused him, because… who?

  “Who the hell are you talking about?” Tomiko asked, the fear in her eyes replaced by rabid curiosity.

  Naomi smirked. “Hacker he’s been talking to for years. Sight unseen.”

  “Some hacker bitch, probably some pale, pasty creature with bad acne? Bullshit.”

  Lifting an eyebrow, Naomi turned away from Tomiko and walked away. “Whatever you say.”

  — & —

  It was the memory of that eavesdropped conversation, twelve or thirteen years ago, between Naomi and Tomiko that told Quentin exactly who’d sent the anonymous text he’d woken up to that morning.

  “Heard about all those… holes in your car. Should probably leave hacker bitch alone. Hope she liked the work at her apartment. – blocked number”

  Reading over the message again, he sighed. He and Naomi had both suspected, after her conspicuous silence since the job at Victor Lucas’s house, that she would pop up soon. They’d also suspected that she would be angry, but not at… him. Especially not enough to take it out on Renata.

  In the past — after she decided to no longer be a part of their team — Tomiko’s anger had been very Naomi-centered. It might have gone over her head in their youth, but Tomiko had always considered Naomi a source of envy. Naomi was the better dancer, the better thief, the one who was more desired by men, because of her air of unattainability… mystery. Tomiko was a woman where you saw exactly what you were getting, right up front. There was no guesswork involved with her motives. Quentin had already pegged that Tomiko would backstab them, warned Naomi about it, and was well on his way to figuring out that the FBI was her weapon of choice when Naomi was captured.

  This time though… this was different. He couldn’t understand the motivation to harm Renata over a non-mutual attraction that never advanced beyond a teenage crush — as far as he knew. If she wanted to be pissed off, he would think that her anger would be — again — aimed at Naomi, who’d kicked her ass in Lucas’s house twice, once while she was tied up. Now, her income source — Lucas — was dead, thanks to the retaliation of Naomi’s uncle.

  It wasn’t that he wanted Tomiko going after Naomi. He just… preferred to think about things rationally, and Tomiko turning her anger on him and Renata just… didn’t make sense. She didn’t even know Renata.

  But… she knew him.

  Quentin groaned as he thought back to Naomi’s assertion of the possibility that he had been the target of the attack, not Renata. With Tomiko claiming responsibility, there was little doubt that those bullets had been meant for anyone but him. It stood to reason that if Lucas had found out how to get to Naomi, that information was easily available to Tomiko. They w
ere hiding in plain sight, pretending to be legit. It would have taken nothing to follow him from the gym — thank goodness they had employees, who could run the place in their absence — to his apartment, to… Renata’s. Maybe Tomiko hadn’t even put together that “hacker bitch” was Renata, until she’d been in her apartment.

  Sitting up in the bed, he rubbed his temples. If Tomiko worked for Lucas… maybe she’d been working on behalf of Wolfe as well. If Lucas had told enough before his death, Wolfe knew that he and Naomi were working on his demise. Maybe he’d given Tomiko carte blanche to take care of it, since there was a personal history there?

  But… then again… Wolfe shared a personal history with Renata as well. The thought of that made Quentin swing his feet out of the bed, handle his morning hygiene routine, then make his way down to the empty gym.

  He always had it to himself at this time of the morning — four a.m. — and today, Quentin decided to visit Naomi’s usual equipment of choice — the heavy bag — to work out his wrath. At Tomiko, for violating Renata’s sense of home, and security, and her role in the hole through her shoulder. At Wolfe for stealing her innocence, for the emotional violence he’d waged in her life over the years, and his continued terrorization now, of withholding her child from her.

  And… at himself.

  For doubting her loyalties, for treating her harshly, for not stepping back sooner, to see things through her lens so he could find some compassion, and most of all… for not fucking realizing what Wolfe had done.

  That pissed him off most of all.

  He’d looked right at the date when Taylor was born. Looked right at Renata’s birthdate — another clue that told him she was painted_pixel. He’d gone over all of the available information a dozen times, knew that Renata was only sixteen, and Wolfe was in his thirties. And yet, in his anger at the perceived betrayal, he hadn’t allowed himself to see her as exactly what she was — exactly what Naomi had called her, if only he’d picked up that clue before — a victim.