Deal with the Devil (13 page)

And just like that, the dormant thread of desire that always connects us is reawakened. There’s never been another woman on Earth that could get me going like this. I have a momentary flash of sympathy for Cecile, who’d give up pretty much anything for her next fix. Mara is like my drug and I can’t get enough.

I pull Mara toward me until our bodies meet in an unbroken line. We fit together better than the pieces of a puzzle. It’s like she was made for me.

She tilts her head back to stare up at me, obediently waiting for whatever it is that I decide to do to her.

I can do anything to her, I realize, and she’ll let me. It’s the most arousing thing that I can possibly imagine.

She’s all mine. That fact fills me with satisfaction, lust, and a fear so startling that I can barely acknowledge that it exists.

I’m about to devour her mouth in a kiss when a sudden feeling of unease moves up the back of my neck. Maybe it’s all the years I spent taking the most dangerous jobs or embracing violence like I would a lover, but I have a sixth sense for danger. It’s the only thing that’s kept me alive for this long.

The world seems to go silent for a moment, like whatever force of nature created us is holding its breath in anticipation. I hear the sudden gun of an engine that’s completely out of place in this normally sedate, upper- middle-class neighborhood.

“Get down,” I yell at Mara. Not waiting for the reaction that I know will be too slow, I grab her around the waist and dive for the floor. We land hard on the tile. I feel the shock of it run through her body.

Glass rains down on us as the windows shatter from a hail of gunfire. Mara’s body jerks with each shot and I stare down into her wild, frightened eyes. My body completely covers her. I know if I haven’t been hit then she couldn’t have been either, but it’s still might be the most terrifying moment of my entire life.

Bullets continue to pour through the open windows, hitting high the wall directly behind us. I’ve been in too many life-threatening situations to count, a couple where I was convinced that my day had finally come. But I’d never felt fear like this before.

But I’m not scared for me. I’m scared for Mara. If I get taken out, who’s gonna protect her?

Dishes explode on the counter, sending razor-sharp shards flying into the air around us. I tuck Mara in closer to my body, trying to shield her as much as I can. She seems frozen underneath me. Only the frantic beating of her heart letting me know that she’s still drawing breath.

I wait for a break in the gunfire and jump to my feet. The Glock is just in my hand as if it’s appeared there by magic. I return fire through the shattered window but I can already see the handful of motorcycles peeling out of the yard and out down the driveway toward the gate. If hit any of them, it’ll be purely by luck.

Mara stays huddled on the floor, even after several moments of silence have passed.

“Mara!”

She doesn’t respond. She’s not crying or freaking out, but just lays on the floor and stares up at the ceiling with eyes that have gone wide and unfocused. Her skin is paler than I’ve ever seen it.

The sound of sirens comes from far away. Judging from experience, we have less than five minutes to get out of there before the cops show us. This is the kind of neighborhood where the police actually show up when they’re called.

“Mara, c’mon!”

I lever her unresisting body up with one hand against her waist. The other keeps a tight grip on the gun, just in case. I’m sick with the knowledge that if someone comes for us right now, we’re no better than sitting ducks.

She stumbles at my side toward the door. I consider slapping her like they do in the movies but I’d probably just be hurting her for no reason. Mara is stuck somewhere deep inside of herself. I hope it’s a nice place where there're no bikers with guns because she’s going to have to come back to this reality sooner or later.

We stagger outside together and make a beeline toward the car, probably looking like some twisted version of a three-legged race. I make a visual inspection of the car and notice with relief that it appears relatively unscathed. The bikers were trying to scare us. If they wanted us dead, we probably would be.

There’s no time for gentleness as I shove her into the passenger seat. She’s gone so limp that I waste precious seconds feeling for the pulse in her neck and checking her body for any obvious injury. She’s not hurt, I note with a sense of relief so keen it’s nearly painful, just in shock.

The sirens are louder now. I race around the car and climb into the driver’s seat. I start the car and the engine comes to life with a satisfying roar. I can’t think about anything else but getting her out of there.

Sick realization creeps over me as I punch the accelerator and peel out of the driveway. I care about what happens to this girl, more than I ever cared about anything. The thought of her dead or hurt feels me with a dread so thick that I can barely breathe past it.

What the hell is happening to me?

I
can feel
him watching me. It’s like a weight pressing down on my back as I sit on the floor of the living room in front of the television. Whenever I glance back at him, his gaze is trained on the screen, pretending like he’s watching. But I know as soon as I turn away, he goes back to looking at me. I can just feel it.

He’s sprawled out behind me on the couch. It’s like being in the same room as a hibernating bear — one small sound or wrong move and it’s all over.

Not that I have anywhere to go, but he hasn’t let me leave the apartment since the drive-by at Papa’s house. MC assholes. Maybe I’m in shock, but I don’t feel sad or scared — I’m mostly just really pissed off.

What were they hoping to accomplish, anyway?

Leo says that if they’d wanted us dead, they would have just busted into the house and got the job done. This was just a scare tactic. And maybe it wasn’t me they were supposed to be scaring away. Maybe they were hoping Leo would realize that I’m more trouble than I’m worth and leave me to fend for myself.

If anything, their ploy has had the exact opposite effect. At this point, he barely lets me go the bathroom by myself. As if bikers are going to jump out of the closet with guns blazing to take me out, or something.

And now Leo is hovering over me like I’m made of glass and might shatter at any moment. I’m gonna start clawing at the walls if I can’t get out of here soon.

The walls are closing in around me.

His phone rings. Our eyes meet as he fishes it out of his pocket. I see the hesitation in his face when he glances down at the caller ID. It’s obviously someone calling about something he doesn’t want to be my business. Does he leave the room to take the call or stay to keep an eye on me?

I turn back to the television, feigning interest. A bunch of men in cowboy hats are on horseback and race across the screen. I haven’t been watching so I have no clue what’s going on.

Leo takes the bait. I hear the squeak of leather as he levers himself off of the couch. His feet make a soft swishing sound on the hardwood as he walks to the bedroom door.

“Why’d it take so long for you to call me back—” he trails off as the bedroom door closes, leaving only a small crack at the opening.

My shoes are in the bedroom but I’m not even thinking about that. I just have to get out of the apartment. I need to feel air on my face and remind myself that there’s a world outside of these walls. A world that I might someday be able to go back to.

Leo is still talking, though his voice is pitched low enough that I can’t make out any actual words. He sounds angry. That might be a good thing. Maybe it’ll be a long conversation.

I take careful steps toward the door, rising up on my toes so my feet make as little noise as possible on the floor. Escape is only a few yards away, shining like a beacon in a dark night. I don’t have a plan. I just have to go. The need is totally irrational and completely impossible to ignore.

A long arm wraps around my waist and yanks me back into a chest that feels like a wall of granite.

A hot mouth presses against my ear. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Nowhere.”

“Nowhere out the front door?”

He loosens his grip enough that I can turn in his arms and look up into his amused face. There’s worry underneath the amusement. Maybe he thinks I’ve gone crazy. Maybe I have.

“I just need to go out for a bit.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m losing my mind in here.” Leo lets me pull away completely. I stomp toward the couch and flop down on it. “I might as well be in prison.”

“This is nothing like prison.” He’s definitely laughing at me. “We have liquor here.”

I turn to glare at him over the back of the couch as he leans against the wall next to the door. His arms are crossed over his chest. “Which you won’t even let me drink.”

“One or two shots is more than enough to calm you down. You don’t need to get wasted to make yourself feel better.”

I scoff. “Says you.”

“C’mon, Mara. You’re acting like I’m the bad guy here.” He pushes off the wall and comes to sit next to me on the couch. “I’m just trying to keep you from getting clipped.”

I’m still pissed at the aborted escape attempt. “What makes you think staying here is any better? We might as well be sitting ducks.”

He shrugs, seeming unconcerned. “Not many people know where I live.”

“Somebody could still find us, though,” I stubbornly insist.

“Maybe,” he allows. “You know why I bought this specific apartment instead of getting a house or something, like most guys.”

“No, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

Leo chooses to ignore the insolent tone. “We’re on the fifteenth floor. A single exit makes the door a good choke point. And that door is steel-reinforced. A group of guys trying to rush through is going to get picked off one by one. I checked out all of the other buildings within half a mile of here and there’s not a single sniper’s nest that’s gives a sightline through the windows. There’s no safer place for you to be, but here with me.”

His matter-of-fact tone gives me pause. I deflate a bit. “You’ve thought this through.”

“Hazard of the job.”

“I don’t know how you can live like this.” A wave of hopelessness rolls over me. “Don’t you ever just want to be normal?”

“And what the fuck is normal?” He waves that away like it’s not even worth thinking about. “Could things be a little more boring? Maybe. But this is what I am — might as well embrace it.”

I envy his surety. I can’t ever remember a time in my entire life when I felt like I belonged. “Who was on the phone?”

He looks away. “Just a business call that I was waiting on.”

“About me?”

The expression on his face is mocking. “You’re not the only thing going in my life right now, you know.”

“Ooo-kay.” I stare at the televisions screen. I’ve just noticed it’s just showing the DVD menu screen of the movie on repeat. I wonder how long it’s been playing on a loop without us noticing. “I hate your taste in movies.”

Leo smiles. “Chick flicks aren’t really my thing, sweetheart. Sorry.”

“Who says I like chick flicks? Maybe I just want something with a special effects budget that wasn’t paid in continental currency.” I pick the DVD case up off the floor and study it. “
High Noon? 
This movie was made in 1952. That’s almost as old as my grandfather.”

He grabs the box out of my hands, looking offended. “You just don’t know good shit when you see it. Fucking kids these days.”

“Please,” I scoff. “You’re like ten years older me.”

“Apparently, that’s how long it takes to develop some taste.”

“Oh, right.” My voice is heavy with sarcasm. I’m enjoying the verbal sparring more than I should. It’s nice to see a side of him that’s not all darkness and mayhem. “Please tell me you’re not one of those assholes that're all like 
Citizen Kane was the last great movie ever made.
”

“Is that what I said?” His knee brushes against mine when he leans toward me on the couch. “Of course, there’s some decent new shit. But these are classics for a reason.”

“Sorry, what did you say? I just heard 
something, something, boring, boring, boring
.”

My only warning is the dark light that begins to shine in his eyes. His smile turns seductive. “Oh, you’re bored. Why didn’t you just say so? I’m sure I can think of something else to entertain you for a little bit.”

Leo is on top of me before I can react. He pins me down on the couch. I let out a surprised shriek that’s cut off by a searing kiss.

He pulls back a little, his face flushed. “First thing we can do is find something for those pretty lips to do besides mouth off.”

I try to sit up, but he shoves me back down on the couch. The rough, caveman routine shouldn’t be doing it for me. But the bloom of heat that starts low in my body makes it clear just how into it I am.

Leo kisses me again and it’s all teeth and burning heat. His hands wrap around my wrists and pull them up over my head, pinning them there. When I tentatively test the limits of his hold, his fingers tighten on me and still the slight movement.

I’m not sure what comes over me. Maybe it’s all of the pent-up emotion that’s been waiting to find an outlet. Maybe it’s that I’ve irrationally begun to blame him for this forced captivity because he’s the one physically keeping me here.

Whatever the reason, I start to fight him. My hips buck wildly in an effort to throw him off, but it’s like trying to move a boulder. With a lucky twist of my wrist, I manage to free one hand. Before he can grab it again, I pull back and send my open palm flying through the air.

It catches him full across the face with a loud slap.

Oh, shit. I slapped him. I can’t believe I fucking slapped him.

His face stays to the side for a moment before he slowly turns back with murder in his eyes. There’s nothing playful or sweet in his gaze. This is a man who hurts and threatens and kills as a profession. This is a man formed of darkness who doesn’t have a sympathetic bone in his entire body.

Leo grabs me with cruel intent. One of his hands captures both of mine and pins them above my head in a bruising grip that I can’t possibly hope to break. His other hand ruthlessly tears at my clothes. I hear the pop of buttons flying off my shirt, just before a blast of cool air blows over my chest.

He pulls down one side of my bra and his mouth descends on a peaked nipple. I twist underneath him and let out a little shriek as he roughly sucks the tender flesh into his mouth. I scream when his teeth close over the metal bar through my nipple and pulls hard on it. For one terrifying moment, I think that he’s going to rip it out.

But he stops before it really hurts me and moves to the other side. He gives that breast similar treatment until my entire chest is bright with red bites and wet with saliva. His free hand moves down to the waist of my jeans. He undoes the button with one strong twist of his hand, slides down the zipper and pushes the denim down my legs. His fingernails scrape slightly on the skin.

I try to twist away when he roughly turns me onto my stomach, but he moves me as easily as a rag-doll. My face is pressed down into the leather hard enough that I’ll probably be left with an imprint of the stitching on my cheek.

I struggle as hard as I can against him. He easily holds me down with one hand as the other works at the fly of his pants. His body moves over mine, resting enough of his weight on me that it steals the breath from my lungs. One knee works in between my thighs until he spreads them wide enough.

And then he completely sheathes himself in one thrust.

“Oh, fuck.”

Even I’m surprised by how wet I am. He slides in and out of me with little resistance. The movement makes a wet, slapping sound that would be humiliating if I had enough brain cells still firing to think about it.

His hips slam into mine. Sparks shoot from the edges of my vision. There’s something about doing it like this — it’s so dirty and animalistic. I feel taken and used as if he’s just using me as a cipher for his pleasure.

In that moment, he doesn’t care if it hurts. He doesn’t care if I like it. I’m just here to serve him.

Why does that thought make me so hot?

I’ve stopped fighting him. My arms hang limply at my sides as my body drapes over the couch. Leo worms one of his hands between us and touches my clit, stroking it lightly until my breathing comes in quick, desperate gasps. Two of his fingers press hard into the liquid heat before withdrawing.

Leo presses his fingers against my lips.

“Open,” he commands.

I hesitate too long and his hand rips down hard on one ass cheek. Pain blooms and then melts into warmth. My teeth have barely parted when he shoves his fingers between my lips. I suck his fingers clean as he thrusts them in and out of my mouth. The rhythm matches the rough movement of his hips.

His mouth licks, sucks and bites a trail up the back to my neck.

“You like it like this, don’t you?”

I grip the leather as he pistons forward into me. His momentum nearly drives me off the couch before his arms catch me. “Yeah, I like it.”

“I knew you were a dirty slut from the first time I saw you. It’s always the girls who are all buttoned up on the outside that are really wild on the inside.”

I want to deny it. I want to ignore the effect that his filthy words are having on me. It’s like I’ve been transported to another world where the only thing that exists is sweat, skin and pounding bodies. I want to stay just like this forever.

“You wanted me too, didn’t you? Admit it.”

“Yes,” I gasp. It doesn’t matter if it was true then because it’s the truth now. “I wanted you.”

“Well, you got me, baby.”

The furious pace of his hips somehow increases and I’m flying through the universe. The strength of the orgasm crashes over me. Waves of pleasure drown out everything except the muffled sound of him groaning my name.

We’re sharing more than sweat, skin and bodily fluids. Something more visceral and less tangible has passed between us. All of the superficial shit that separates people has been shoved aside. Everything is bared to the surface, like an open wound.

We collapse to the sofa. He shifts to the side so his full weight isn’t crushed against my back. He kisses me softly on the cheek with a murmured, “You’re amazing.”

I lay there, too wrung out to move. I’m trying to make sense of a world that’s tilted on its axis. I barely recognize myself anymore.

Leo recovers before I do. He rolls off of the couch and then bends down to pick me up in his arms. He carries me to the bedroom.

He drops me on the bed and then climbs in after me. We lay together in the dark silence with him pressed up against my back.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. How did he become the only stable thing in my life? I remember the look on his face in Papa’s kitchen when he realized those bikers were coming for us. There had been fear there, but also a deep determination to keep me safe. Even if it meant he’d get hurt instead.

The cynical part of me is convinced that it’s just about the sex. Or maybe he’s hoping to get a piece of my inheritance. Except he could fuck pretty much any woman that he wants to, with little more than a crook of his finger. And I already offered him money that he refused to take.