by Lee Savino
Burying one’s head in the sand had a bad rap. It was a great plan, really. Coming up for air, now that was the stupidest idea she’d had in a long time.
She slammed the bathroom door shut behind her and let out a deep breath. She walked to the sink and turned the faucets on full blast. She leaned over and splashed her face. Again and again and again.
But she couldn’t get clean. She could never get fucking clean. No matter how many times she scrubbed her body top to bottom. Sometimes she took showers so hot her skin blistered, but still it didn’t come off. Iris’s blood had seeped through Cora’s pores down to her bones. She’d never be clean of it.
She didn’t hear the door open at first, not until it slammed into the wall.
Her eyes lifted to the grimy mirror and there was Marcus, shoving the door shut with as much force as he’d opened it with. “Wha—?”
But she didn’t have time to finish her half-formed question or anything else, because before she could even turn off the water faucets, Marcus had crossed the space between him and had her in his arms.
He pushed her up against the wall and cradled her face roughly in his hands.
“I will never let what happened to my mother happen to you. Never.” His hands shook, and in the raw pain in his face she could see it.
Holy gods. He’d been right.
She really had held the power all along.
Oh Marcus.
How was he breaking her heart when she didn’t have any left to break? She wanted to wrap her arms around him. He looked so lost.
“I wanted you to be clean,” he whispered.
“Then you don’t want me!” She tried to shove him away but he didn’t let her.
And the next moment, his lips were crashing down on hers. She grabbed his shoulders, not sure if she was trying to tug him closer or shove him away. But by the next moment, she was surging up to tiptoe, moaning into his mouth, and giving as good as she got.
Her hips pushed frantically at his, her right leg hooking around his hips so she could press her pelvis closer. She wanted, needed to be close to him as if he was her second half. When he was inside her, she became whole.
This, finally, wasn’t a dream and she’d never needed it more.
“Cora,” Marcus’s groan was deep and feral, ripped from the depths of his heart. He palmed her head, fingers tangled in her wild hair. “I need...”
His eyes were wide, pupils blown. His chest rose and fell, the bellows of his lungs pumping as he teetered on the edge of control. Cora nodded frantically, helping him claw up her skirt. She needed, too.
With a jerk, Marcus’s large hand tore her stockings to shreds. Somehow she undid the button on his pants and unzipped them enough for Marcus to shove them down. And she was up, feet leaving the ground, legs twining around Marcus’s lean hips as he drove into her, bracing them both against the wall.
She writhed, adjusting to his great girth, scrabbling at his broad shoulders to pull him closer. He propped her higher, letting gravity slide her further onto his thick length, and she cried out as his cock his spots inside her she’d forgotten existed.
He filled her beyond limit, invading more than her body. She felt him in every corner of herself, in her very soul.
Her eyes watered with the intimacy. It felt so right. She hated to love this powerful, infuriating man, but she’d never stopped needing him.
“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 the 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 gaz
e 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.
