For the Bond (Romantic Suspense) (Beyond Blood, #3) (6 page)

The first night I'd been inside of her, when I'd told her I needed her to come—that if she did, I'd never get enough of it... I hadn't been joking. I yearned for Marina's orgasm, it was as dear to me as breathing.

“God,” Kite said, his forehead coming down onto her shoulder. “Fucking insane, you feel incredible, Marina. I can't—fuck, I'm so close!”

Making tight circles on her clit, I studied her face between my own rapidly diminishing control. The sensation of her milking me had me near the edge. Marina licked her lips, grinding down on me with increasing desperation.

When she came, she took my vision. I saw white flashes, the cold air erasing away to leave scorching wild fire in its place. My veins flexed, pulsing as my climax ripped from my skull to my cock. Marina had thrown me over the cliff-side and left me broken.

She toppled forward, a second wave of clenching muscles rocking her cunt. Her face landed on my chest while Kite grunted. His orgasm had pushed her over into a second one for herself, the tingles coursing through into my still firm shaft.

It was almost too much. Almost.

In a pile, we all laid there on our jackets under the darkening sky. The trees were still red as blood from Marina's ruse. Through my haze, my fracturing walls, it made me think of grizzly things.

I'd seen so much killing in my life. I swear, I'd been born cursed. It hadn't mattered to me as I'd gotten older. A hard life can turn a heart cold, but it can protect you, too.

Sex had been for fun before, to help me forget and to let my mind take a break. Never had it left me so drained. I was wishing for things I still feared I could never have.

Instead of gore and death, I wanted the paint on the trees to remind me of
this.
A day of joy, a moment in our messed up lives where nothing mattered. A day where I didn't have to ponder who lived or who had to die.

Wrapping my arms around Marina, I closed my eyes and wondered what lay ahead.

Kite

––––––––

“Y
ou know,” Anabelle said, watching me load a heavy crate of glasses on top of the bar. “I have to say, it's been a little quiet in here lately. I swear, I hardly see you or Mr. Fallow anymore.”

Blinking, I reached for another case and squinted at the young woman. “What? Come on, we're still in here all the time.”

Her shrug was pretend-casual. Something was on her mind. “Not really. The past week or so, I've seen you—what? Two times, maybe? And Mr. Fallow, hell, he comes in the morning to help when he has to, but he was gone for half a week.”

I cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah. Look, we've just been busy.”

“With your new girlfriend?” Her eyebrows went up, judging me in every way.

The case wiggled in my grip. Shoving it into place, I dusted my palms together and scowled at the bartender. “Jeez. You know I'm your boss, too, right? Why don't you treat me like you do Jacob? You'd never say that to him.”

“True,” she laughed, hands squeezing her hips. “But I noticed you didn't argue with me. So that girl, what's her name? Maria?”

“Marina,” I sighed.

“Yeah. Marina. She
is
your girlfriend, then.” Tugging her hair, Anabelle's smile continued to grow. I knew she wanted an answer, even if she was already assuming facts. The thing was, I didn't know
how
to answer. What I wanted to say, what I felt, wasn't exactly smart to admit openly.

Not when I didn't know what was going to happen.

Folding my arms, I reclined on the bar and frowned. “Okay, enough of this. Finish up cleaning or whatever it is you do.”

Lifting her hands in defense, she rolled her eyes and giggled. “Whatever it is I do. Right, got it. I'll stop poking the beast.” She swung her hips, overtly trying to get me to look. It was a walk down memory lane. The times I'd pulled Anabelle into the backroom because some other girl hadn't gone home with me.

Those days, I'd been chasing life at the bottom of a bottle or between some soft thighs. It was a different decade, a TV show that I no longer starred in. Since Marina had come into my life, she'd replaced every urge I had with a desire for her.

Only her.

The bar was too cloistering. Needing to escape, I grabbed my coat and shoved out into the streets. Here, I could be free of being teased about my relationship with Marina. Really, what was I going to say?
Yes, I'm kind of seeing her. Jacob is, too! Go bother HIM about that. I'm sure he'll have some nice words for you.
Grinning, I ruffled the back of my hair. It wasn't Anabelle's fault. I was curious about what the hell was going on, too.

Strolling down the sidewalk, a voice perked up. “Kite?” I'd almost bumped right into her, our paths about to intersect. Marina, dressed in her jacket and jeans and managing to look better than any woman in the city. Her hands clutched her purse tight, eyes squinting. She was surprised to see me.

Straightening my shoulders, my grin spread. “What are you doing out here?”

Marina darted her gaze side to side, from my feet back to my face. She was nervous, but then, she often got fidgety when I was close to her. I sort of loved it. “Just getting some air. Are you... working right now?”

Half-turning, I looked back where the bar was down the street. “Kind of. We don't open for another hour. Did you want to get a drink?”

“At two in the afternoon?” she asked. The curve of her lips was tempting me more and more, especially when she smiled in disbelief. “It's early for alcohol. Cocoa would be good. Want to go do that?”

“Marina Fidel,” I gasped, covering my mouth. “Are you asking me on a date?” The flush that hit her cheeks had my heart thumping. She made it such a treat to rile her up. Reaching out, I adjusted the front of her jacket. The zipper had slid low, and another man might have peeled it open, but I enjoyed being unpredictable. Surprising her was a real treat. “Yeah. Let's go get something hot.”

That line just made her pinker.

Together, we slipped into one of the thousands of cafes filling the city. It was that magical hour where no one was free, busy at their jobs or classes. We had the place to ourselves.

I bought our drinks, not needing to ask what she wanted. In a small table in the corner, a view of the street through a large window, we sat and sipped and smiled.

It was oddly normal. Special and private. Pretending we were not who we were—a hitman and a woman on a murder mission—wasn't easy. But with her smiling at me, eyes alight and lips cherry-red, fuck... I tried my best.

She slid her jacket off, revealing the creamy white shirt beneath. It clung to her chest, extra bright against her toffee skin. “Hey.” Her fingers snapped, drawing my attention briskly. Her smile was coy. “Eyes up here, buddy. I didn't take my coat off to distract you.”

I folded my hands under my chin. “You don't need to strip to distract me. That's the problem.”

Pursing her lips, she watched the outside world and acted like her ears weren't going red because of my compliment. “Is this weird for you?” she asked, gesturing with her paper cup.

“What, having coffee? Relaxing?”

Her attention swung back to me. The unfiltered realness of her question balanced between us. “Yeah. All of that.”

Toying with the lid of my cup, I smiled thoughtfully. “Not at all. If anything is weird, it's... how natural it feels. Spending time with you feels right, no matter how we do it.”

“Hunting, stalking, and coffee. They all go so well together.”

I laughed helplessly. She lifted my mood so easily. “I guess we've been doing a lot of intense stuff.”

Inquiring eyes roamed my face. “Well, what
do
you do besides clean your gun and flirt with innocent girls?”

“Innocent? You?” I teased.

“Not me,” she playfully gasped. “Wait, are you saying you
are
flirting with me?”

“You'll know when I flirt.” Narrowing my eyes, I ran my toe along her ankle under the table. Her parted lips were intoxicating. “What do I do besides clean and flirt?” The more I chased an answer, the more my smile faded. I'd been pondering this before Marina had bumped into me. Nameless girls and forgotten hours. Whiskey for breakfast, polishing my Ruger every chance I got...

The closer I got to her, the less I thought about my old addictions. The man who had lost a purpose without contracts to fulfill... that had been me. For months, that had been who I was.

Who was I now?

“You okay?” She was staring at me, genuine worry etched in her features.

Reaching out, I placed a hand on hers and felt her fingers spasm. She hadn't been ready for me to touch her. Definitely not ready for me to link my hold and squeeze. “Everything that I used to do for fun in the past is just that. The past. It doesn't matter now.”

Marina's mouth went slack. Every line vanished from her pretty face. When she spoke, it was a hush so quiet I had to read her lips. “What does matter?”

The simple word was so close to spilling down my tongue.
You.
God, what a word. I couldn't do it. Admitting my feelings was unfair for both of us. I couldn't torture her or me with something that might never happen. Until I was sure that Marina would live—that she'd pass the test of trust—I just couldn't say it. Even so, I knew the fucking truth.

Marina was what mattered to me now.

She held my hand for a long while. Under the table, her boot rubbed my calf. It was forward and comforting all combined. I wanted more of this side of her, but she had other ideas. “The past,” she whispered. “I want to know more about it. About you, where you come from and who you are.”

Well. That was a mood killer. Pulling my hand away, I gripped my cup so tight the edges crinkled. “Sorry, but no. It's not a tale worth telling.”
It's one I want to forget and never can.

There was no hiding the anger that danced through her eyes. Amazingly, she took a slow breath and sighed. “I think that's unfair, you know mine. Why don't you tell me something? A
tiny
something. Your first contract, what about that?”

Tapping my foot, I turned my cup in a circle. It was hard to stop fidgeting. “You know one of my kills—”

“Two,” she said, waggling her fingers. “Culver and Frank.”

“Right, sorry.” Fuck, Marina did know a lot. Was this worse, giving her more information?
No,
I told myself.
As bad as it is, she has enough info to put me and Jacob away already. More won't hurt. She's either alive at the end of this, or she takes our secrets to her grave.

This was becoming a morose date. I washed my mouth out with some coffee. “I guess it's safe to tell you. It's less grizzly than Culver's death.” Pushing the cup from one hand to the next, I studied her. When I'd told her about the contract that had gone wrong, it had been a cautionary tale. I'd wanted to scare her. For her to grasp how fucked up what we did was. She had been acting like this was a game, or a movie. Marina didn't understand. This girl had never killed anyone.

“Daisy,” I said, wincing at the name. “She was a stripper at the club we bounced for. I mean, she was more hooker than dancer but—it doesn't matter.”
I asked Jacob to kill her.
Long ago, that memory caused nothing in me. The cold ache of guilt I felt now was different. I would have said I was a bad person. Probably a monster. But thinking of the girl who had done nothing wrong but see our faces—a girl no different than Marina—and how I'd suggested her doom...

Shit. I was more evil than I considered. Marina was exposing me to some deeply buried shame. “Jacob was the one that started everything.”
In more ways than one. Beyond just this story.
Eyeing Marina, I tried to read her face. “He offered to have the pimp killed that was beating her and some of the other girls. He played it off, pretended he knew a guy.”

“That guy was you,” she said.

“Yeah. Me.” Chuckling cynically, I lifted my coffee. It was empty, so I just held it. My hands needed to do something. Anything. “We did that one together. Jacob followed the guy to his home. I made sure no one followed us.” The face of that man entered my brain. The pimp... his name had been Emilio. He'd been an ugly guy with uglier habits. Sure, we'd killed him. I guess that didn't make us saints. But Emilio—he was a bastard. “The shithead lived alone. Cornering him was a cinch.”

Her lower lip vanished between her teeth. “How did you guys do it?”

My smile was strained, there was a wild heat rising in me that I fought to bury. This kill, it had been a reminder of what I was capable of. Emilio's death had felt satisfying. Unlike the time with Culver, I didn't want to scare her. Protecting her from my demons was a joke, but I still yearned to try. “Plastic over his head, suffocated him. Jacob held him down and I squeezed the bag. It wasn't pretty.”

Her eyes were bulging. It was eerily similar to how Emilio's had looked. He was dead in the ground, the case never solved. I'd called it ugly, but we'd still been careful. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “That was too much detail. You didn't need to know all the tiny parts.”

“Yes, I did.” That time, she took
my
hand. It was electric, I sat straighter. “Kite, you murdered the man who was hurting those girls. I had no idea that your first kill was so... heroic.”

If I'd still had coffee in my cup, I would have watched it spill everywhere. It was a wonder I caught the container after it bounced off the tabletop. “Heroic?” Fuck, there were so many things wrong with what she'd said. I wasn't a hero.

And Emilio hadn't been my first kill.

Shaking my head, I studied her—checked for pity. I didn't want or need that from anyone. Nothing glowed in Marina's eyes but warmth and appreciation. “You're wrong,” I sighed. “I did it because Jacob said we should do it. The money was too good, we needed to get out of the slums. That man was trash, but not everyone we killed was.”

Wrinkling her brows, she held my hand and didn't wrench away. God, I was thankful for that. “Unless you plan to list every contract for me right here, right now, so that I can judge... then all I can go by is what I know.” Turning my palm over, she traced the lines, tickled the invisible scar she couldn't see. “That man beat women, Frank helped kill my family, and the guy I'm after is a certified monstrosity.”