For the Warmth (A Beyond Blood Short) (MFM Romance) (3 page)

The Corner Velvet; a business the two of them owned. Had something happened?

I didn't miss the irritation in Kite's voice, not even over my blood-filled ears. “Fine, just wait a bit, she won't hold out another five minutes at this rate.”

Those hawk-like features fell on me. Jacob was hard, angular and lean and ever languid. I appreciated the contrast to Kite's more combustible side.

Focusing was impossible, I was narrowed in on the building tingles of my release. I tasted my own sweat, my own need. Let them banter; if Kite could do that and get me off, fine. Whatever. I won either way.

Jacob's words cut through me like a cold knife. “We don't have five minutes. Kite, you have to stop.”

Stop? Was he insane?

To my utmost shock, Kite started to slow down. Gritting my teeth, I tried to drive myself back onto him. “What the hell, Jacob?” I spat, desperation putting me close to screaming. “Kite, don't you even dare!”

“I hate to do it, but there's an emergency,” Jacob said soothingly.

I wasn't fucking soothed.

“Shh,” Kite said, releasing me. He slid out, and the sound should have been humiliating, but I was too furious—too ratcheted up in my lust. I'd been so close! “This is serious, Jacob wouldn't interrupt otherwise... unless he wanted to get a bloody nose.”

Shaking my head, I faced them both and bent to pull up my jeans. “I can't believe you two!”

Jacob was black lightning. Bending over me, he didn't even need to touch me, I froze just because he was there. The intensity in his crystal eyes made me forget to breathe.

Grabbing my pants, he actually zipped them up. I hadn't expected that. I also didn't expect him to take my hands, to graze the backs of them with his thumbs while he smiled. “Relax, Marina. We'll make it up to you.”

Wrinkling my nose, I pulled away. “How do you figure?”

Jacob swayed towards me. It was subtle, but I was too aware of him to not notice every inch of breathing room I lost. His aura was consuming me. He did it so easily, that magnetic pull that promised so much.

He murmured, “After we go take care of the bar, I promise to spend as much time as you want on that sweet body of yours. Far more than fifteen minutes.”

God, he spoke right into my core. I almost forgot what he'd just denied me—but the ache in my lower belly was a cruel reminder.

I scooped up my shirt. Kite gave me an overtly sad expression as I hid away my chest, not caring I didn't have a bra any longer. “You assume I'll want anything to do with you—either of you—after this.”

Jacob was rich cream; he poured into every crack of my brain, stealing a kiss that I hadn't predicted. When he started to speak—looked me in the eye with that wicked promise—I listened to what he was offering. “Come with us to the bar. You won't regret it.”

He traced my jaw, the shell of my ear, and kissed me once more outside my temple.

Okay. I admit it...

Jacob knew how to make me dance like a puppet on strings.

“Fine,” I said, quieter than I wanted to. “But if you ever stop me like that again?” I pointed a finger, and his genuine surprise was invigorating. “I'll do exactly like Kite said. I'll give you a god damn bloody nose.”

With a smile too confident for my liking, Jacob bowed his head. “I'll make a note of that. Get changed, we need to go.”

The remnants of my interlude with Kite were erased. We left the apartment while Kite was still stumbling into a pair of jeans and a shirt.

All I could think, in my baffling ache, was that if there'd been time for us to change...

There'd been enough time for me to get off.

Yes, Jacob would answer for this, that much was certain.

Jacob

––––––––

I
t hadn't been an emergency—not exactly.

Anabelle, my prime bartender, had phoned me with some grim news. “I'm sick,” she'd said, mumbling into the receiver. “Like, extremely sick. You don't want details, Mr. Fallow.”

I hadn't. I also didn't want her infecting everyone. God, what a headline
that
would be in the papers.
Corner Velvet Causes Plague.
I'd asked her if she was contagious.

“No no,” Anabelle laughed, hollow as a coconut. “But I'm a mess. If I feel better, I'll come in tonight, but I can't get the bar ready. You and Kite will have to.”

It amused me how she treated me so formerly, but never bothered with Kite. It definitely bugged him, too, but then... I'd kept things business between me and my employees.

Kite had never cared about such rules.

Though, I'd been very aware that our dear Marina had been holding his attention. Kite had been losing himself nightly in booze and women. After Marina had swayed into our lives, things had changed. More changes than I'd ever thought possible.

And yet, simultaneously, everything was so familiar. After all, she'd hired us to kill someone. Or to help
her
kill someone, to be exact.

I preferred to be exact.

“It's fine,” I'd told Anabelle, finishing belting my pants on with one hand. She hadn't woken me up, I'd stirred at the first hint of gold on the horizon. “Kite and I will handle it. You stay in bed and get better. Bye for now.”

Preparing the bar wouldn't be terrible. However, I hadn't been planning to play bartender tonight. I'd have to call around for a replacement. There was so much to do, but first... I had to call Kite and let him know. He wasn't much of a boss, but he
was
the co-owner of our bar.

And that was when I'd run into the first problem; Kite wasn't answering. I had a strong suspicion as to why.

A quick trip downstairs through the stairwell of our highrise, a few knocks on the door and another call, and I was positive. I'd placed an ear to the door to confirm, heard the stomach tingling, heart pumping noises that only Marina could make.

That woman, god. She turned my very bones into glass.

It was almost a shame to use the spare key to Kite's place and interrupt their fun.

Almost.

Like I said, it wasn't
exactly
an emergency. I could have left them alone for a few minutes, perhaps even handled the bar myself for a few hours.

So why hadn't I?
The thought plagued me as I now drove my car down the busy streets towards the Corner Velvet. Kite and Marina followed in his orange Mercedes, tailing me and leaving me alone to my own buzzing mind.

Seeing them both wrapped up like that, how red her lips had been in their desperate “o” shape... The memory made me shift in the seat, proving I could still steer the car
and
steer my abrupt erection into a comfortable place.

I had told Marina, again and again; I'm not the jealous type. My major concern was and always would be my best friend's safety. Kite and I weren't related, but our connection went deeper than that.

Our history, our mistakes, everything we'd endured together...

We were blood brothers, and no one could make us question our loyalty.

And then Marina entered our lives.

Sighing, I smoothed my short, dark hair as I hovered at a red light. In the mirror, I saw something in my eyes I didn't like; stress. There was so much going on in my heart and head. I wasn't used to any of it.

Marina had been a cannonball into our world—my world. She threatened everything Kite and I had spent our existence building. Hell, we'd been on the verge of retiring when she'd shown up and told us she knew we were hitmen.

From that moment, the plan—the only way to solidify our future—was clear.

We needed to get the letter she had that proved who we were, the one thing tying us to her and her health. After that?

Marina had to die.

My knuckles had gone milky-white on the steering wheel. Someone honked; I jerked forward on the road, baffled by my distraction. Imagining what had to be done to this lovely, amazing girl that I wanted to grab and taste and hear scream for me, it turned me sour.

Kite was still convinced we could save her. He was too trusting. It balanced us.

Marina had brought us all together in a way I'd never dreamed of, but she could also destroy us. One simple word or mistake...

And she'd ruin everything.

Then, knowing the risk, I do things like agree to give her a chance.
I still tensed when recalling that day. Kite had demanded we give her what she deserved, that we help her get her revenge and then maybe... maybe she could be left alive.

I'd agreed, but under one condition; she had to prove her trust.

I hadn't yet decided how that would happen. That was unlike me, too. I was quick with plans and details. Surely, I'd come up with something. Instead, I'd been dragging my feet, delaying the process.

It's because, if I make the decision, it makes it real. It gives her a chance to fail.

I should have been stronger. Colder.

To get through this, I had to be.

Pushing out of the car after I parked it in the alley, I straightened my tie.
Marina... how are you so firmly in my marrow and my veins?
She'd grown like a tumor, I feared ejecting her from our lives would rupture something irreplaceable.

And that was partly why, seeing her and Kite going at it, I'd snapped. Some part of me, deep down, wanted to be involved in their morning fun. But while they might have had the time to finish, I didn't have the time to jump in.

So I'd stopped them. Was that jealousy?

No,
I told myself, musing at the realization.
It's greed.
I ached to watch Marina come, but
I
wanted to be part of it. I needed to see her thrill with lust, and not from the sidelines.
Plus,
I told myself, nudging through the backdoor of my bar,
Forcing her to wait will make it that much more exciting for her. For all of us.

Scanning the room, I shook my head in surprise. Anabelle hadn't mentioned that she'd bailed last night before cleaning up. Had her illness hit her that hard, even then?

There were glasses and empty bottles all over the place, the dark-wood of the booths and tables sticky in the pale lights. I wandered behind the bar, knew with one glance that nothing had been refilled or washed.

Kite's voice rang out a second after he kicked the door open. “Holy shit, it's a wreck in here!”

Peeking over at them both, I did a scan of Marina that ate up the vision of her in a mere blink. She'd managed to clean up some, but she still wore curve-hugging jeans and a top so tight it enhanced the shape of her delicious breasts.

Her face, though, her energy; she had that casual, tousled, just rolled out of bed look combined with the alluring “just fucked” style that people struggled to create. Except, for her, it was reality.

She'd tied her long, thick hair up in a tail, some pieces loose and framing her toffee skin. I committed all of it to memory, blamed it on my hitman history.

Clearing my throat, I started to peel back the cuffs of my expensive shirt. “Anabelle is very sick. So sick, it looks like she left in a whirl last night. We'll need to clean everything as fast as we can.”

Kite sighed, ruffling his hair with one hand as the other hooked casually in his jeans. Unlike me, he dressed more like some rockstar who had just stumbled out of his trailer. “You couldn't have just told me that earlier? Fuck. Okay. That means she isn't coming in tonight?”

“Right. I doubt she will.” Running water in the sink, I started piling glasses. “I'll have to make some calls. It's last minute, but maybe I can find a replacement.”

Marina came my way, slipping around to join me. “Let me help,” she said, dipping her hands into the suds.

Smiling, I peered at her. “You're sure?”

“I'm not going to stand around and watch you guys work,” she said, giving me a sly glance. “I don't know how to run this place and I
definitely
can't bartend, but I'm capable of washing some glasses.”

It was funny. It wasn't that I hadn't expected her to help out, it was that I was both pleasantly surprised at my own
lack
of surprise, as well as appreciative of her decision. Marina could have easily gone for a walk, left us to take care of our own troubles.

But that wasn't her.

Nodding, I said, “Thank you.”

I was rewarded with a dusting of pink over her neck. I loved it.

Kite tapped his foot, then started gathering up empty bottles. Between the three of us, the bar would look presentable within a few hours.

Bent over the sink with Marina, we scrubbed glasses while the less filthy ones ran through the automatic washer. Kite had vanished into the backroom, working harder than I'd seen him ever bother with. Was he going over inventory? What had motivated him so suddenly?

It's her,
I realized with a start.
Marina. She's gotten him... what, to grow up?
She'd asked me, once, if Kite was always reckless. She'd said I was always taking care of him, and I had to admit, then and now... it was true.

I was always protecting my best friend. It was what had gotten us here.
Blood Brothers, we—

Water flicked onto my sleeve, staining it from blue to black. “Sorry,” Marina winced, though her lips were too curled to be truly sorry.

Narrowing my eyes, I showed her the edge of my teeth. “It's fine, just an accident.” Dipping my forearms into the warm suds, I casually splashed her back. The wetness soaked onto the front of her shirt, glinting off of the enticing cleavage.

Jumping back, Marina gawked at me. Her arms were up, suds dripping onto the floor. Then, with a slow burn of wickedness, she turned the glass in her hand and emptied the cup over my chest.

I saw it coming, and still hadn't dodged. Standing there, I looked down at the soaked cloth and vest. With patience, I lifted my gaze back to her. Though I was staring her down with building energy, the threat of revenge, Marina didn't sway.

If anything, she beamed and stood taller.

“You did that on purpose,” I observed.

“Oh, most definitely.”

My hands were free, then they were full of her wrists. I'd moved quick, trapping her tight. She twitched, a mixture of fear and something else—something far more alluring—wild in her dark eyes.