Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) (11 page)

“
Don't talk to me like that,
” she snapped. He chuckled while he rubbed at his jaw.

“You're testing my patience. Don't you remember Africa? I'm not above hitting a girl,” he warned her.

“You'd have to get close to me first,” she taunted.

He shot his arm out, grabbing for her, but she hadn't been lying, she was hard to get. She danced out of his reach, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He finally stood up, rubbing his hand over his knee.

“Quickness doesn't make up for lack of skill,” he said in a calm voice as he walked towards her. She kept moving backwards, away from him.

“This is stupid, De Sant. Just walk away before you embarrass yourself,” she warned him.

He made another grab for her, obviously trying to hook the strap of her tank top. She bobbed to the side, but grabbed his wrist. With a shout, she twisted around, then used his momentum and her own body to hurl him over her shoulder. He flew over her and crashed into the fire pit. He landed on his back, his arms flailing as he got tangled in the cooking set up.

“What the fuck was that!?” he exclaimed, laying on his back, obviously in shock.

This is stupid. Look at what you're doing, Lily. You're fighting in the jungle in the middle of nowhere. You're above this. You're above
him
. Kingsley's law: rolling in the dirt is for pigs. If you must fight in hand-to-hand combat, make sure it's something worthy of your time and your bones.

“That was me ending this,” she called out to him. He coughed and climbed to his feet.

“I don't think this is over,” he replied, dusting himself off.

“It is. This is stupid. I'm sorry I threw you. Let's just get out of here, and down the road we can go our separate ways,” she offered, rubbing her hand over her forehead, trying to calm down. Marc always clouded her vision. She needed to get it clear again.

He obviously didn't care. One moment, he'd been standing by the fire pit. The next, he was in front of her, grabbing her around the waist. She shrieked as he picked her up and charged forward, just like a linebacker. He slammed her against a tree trunk and she groaned. Despite being completely caught unaware, though, she didn't hesitate at all and she elbowed him in the side of the neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she hurled her weight to the side, causing him to fall. Before they hit the ground, she let go of him, even managing to land on her feet. As he rolled onto his back, she stomped on his ribs and was rewarded with him gagging.

Just like the time she had kicked him in Africa, she watched as he tried to grab her ankles in order to pull her down. But she hadn't been lying, she was smarter now. Faster. She didn't attempt another kick. Instead, she used her upright advantage and she sprinted into the tent.

Lily wasn't an idiot. Anymore in her life, she made it a point to never be more than fifty feet from a loaded weapon. A crude wooden bench had been set up in the tent, with various cooking utensils laid out on top of it. Lily dropped to her knees and reached underneath it, feeling around for the gun she'd hidden. Before she could find it, though, Marc was on her. He grabbed her by the back of her hair and yanked hard. She cried out and stopped what she was doing as he pulled her to a standing position, forcing her to face him.

“I see you still like to make things difficult,” he sighed, pressing his free hand against the side of his ribs. She glared at him.

I'll show you difficult, De Sant.

She gripped onto his wrist and then twisted her whole body, not caring about the pain she was causing herself. Marc was forced to let go of her hair, but she didn't let go of him – she kept twisting, fully prepared to break his wrist. His look went from pained to panicked, and he let go of his rib cage long enough to slap her across the face. She released his wrist and stumbled back from him. Once she was out of striking range, he bent forward, wincing and holding onto his ribs again.

“I wondered when you'd show your true colors,” she was panting for air as she pressed her hand to her cheek. He chuckled.

“You made me do that,” he pointed out. “But didn't it feel like old times?”

“I barely felt a thing – kinda reminded me of the sex we used to have,” she taunted. He laughed loudly.

“Oh, don't worry, baby. Next time, I'll make sure you feel me.”

Marc lunged forward and it was on. She snatched up a small, tin, camping skillet from the bench and smacked him across the face with it. He jerked to the side, but managed to grab a handful of her shirt as he went. He yanked her close and got a hand around her throat, but then she literally jumped on his left foot, dropping the skillet while slamming her heels down on top of him. He shouted, violently shoving her away, and she hoped she'd at least managed to break some toes.

A roundhouse kick to his head was her next trick, and a completely new one – she knew he wouldn't be expecting it. She did it well, and with precision; Kingsley was a good teacher. If they hadn't been in a tent with a low ceiling, and in such close proximity to each other, it probably would have worked better, but she didn't have the space to fully extend her leg until she was almost facing him again. Before her heel could connect with his head, he grabbed her ankle and dragged her to him, almost forcing her into a standing split.

“Give?” she breathed, holding her fists up defensively in a boxer's stance. Ready for him.

“Were you always this flexible?” he panted, looking up at the foot that was above his head. She smirked.

“Should've taken advantage of it when you had the chance.”

She punched him in the stomach, hard enough to make him stagger backwards, but he didn't let go of her leg. He tripped over a sleeping bag and began to stumble, all while still gripping her ankle. He wrapped an arm around her waist as they started to fall.

They hit the ground in a mess of arms and legs. She landed more blows to his chest and stomach. He managed to get a hold of one of her wrist and pinned it to her back, but with her free hand, she found the sensitive spot on his rib cage. She was more observant than she'd been in the past, and once she discovered that she could make him wince, she mercilessly hammered the spot. Poured all of her anger and her frustration and hatred and
hurt
into that one place on his body.

Marc finally jerked upright, unable to handle the abuse, and forced them into a sitting position. Her legs were around his waist and she used him as an anchor while she leaned backwards for a second before snapping forward, swinging her fist with the whole weight of her torso behind it. As it slammed across his jaw, Marc didn't remain idle. He still never missed a beat in a fight. He slid his hands up her body, lightening fast, and he wrapped them around her neck.

“Enough!” he roared, not squeezing tight enough to completely cut off her oxygen, but enough to show her that he meant business.

“
Fuck you,
” she managed to hiss while she clawed at his hands.

“It's over.
Stop,
” he instructed.

She stopped moving, just sat there and glared at him for a moment. Their fight was going nowhere, they were evenly matched. What was she really going to do, chase Marc around the tent and hammer away at him till he fell down? Or until he got close enough to land a solid hit, and
she
fell down? They were wasting time. She felt ridiculous. She let her thighs unclench from around his waist.

“Okay. Over,” she agreed, and while he watched with narrowed eyes, he slowly removed his hands from her neck.

They were cautious as they backed away from each other. She didn't look away till she got to her feet. When it seemed clear that it wasn't a trick and he was actually calling a truce, she looked down at herself. Frowned and began brushing away dirt and leaves from her clothing.

“At least Law taught you something right,” Marc sighed, and she glanced up in time to see him turning away from her.

“What?” she asked. He chuckled and stretched from side to side, rubbing at his tender ribs.

“How to know when you're outmatched, sweetheart. You need to be careful – I went easy on you. Not all bad guys will. Pull shit like that on the wrong person, and you'll be in trouble, and your precious Kingsley won't be there to save you,” he warned her, his voice snide.

Lily saw red. He just didn't know when to stop. She'd been winning – she could've broken out of that chokehold. What did it take to get it through his thick skull, that she was just as capable as him!?

What do I have to do to make him realize what an absolute asshat he is!?

Without even thinking about what she was doing, Lily let out a shout and grabbed the first thing her hand came in contact with; the first thing that had any weight.

“You are such a
dick!
”

It wasn't till after she'd launched the object that she realized what she'd just thrown. She could do nothing but grimace as a large cast iron skillet clipped the back of his head. She really hadn't thrown it that hard, and her aim hadn't been perfect by any means, thankfully. Still. Marc dropped to his knees, wavered for a bit, then fell flat on his face.

She'd knocked him out cold.

Lily knew she could've left him. He was unconscious, it wasn't like he could stop her. She had a mission, and it was far from over. She had to call Kingsley and tell him that she'd failed. Not that he would necessarily care, but it was still humiliating. And worse, she would have to tell him about De Sant.

Fuck my life.

The next morning, Lily sat on the ground outside. She cleaned her Glock, making sure it was in perfect working condition, as always. There was a groan from inside the tent, but she still didn't make a noise. Didn't say anything even when Marc moved outside, rubbing his side as he came to stand in front of her.

“Jesus, remind me to never piss you off again. Is that what Kingsley has been teaching you? Fighting with cookware 101?” he grumbled, his fingers dancing over his ribs. Lily glanced at him.

“Among other things. Anything broken?”

“No, just bruised. I gotta say, sweetheart, I'm surprised you're still here.”

“Me, too. C'mon. I'll help you get to the next town, and then we can go our separate ways,” she sighed, then put the Glock back in her pack before climbing to her feet. She tossed him a bottle of aspirin, then slipped the bag onto her back.

Marc didn't say anything, and she stood still as he took four of the pills, dry swallowing them. Then he moved on to fill his backpack with water bottles. It was stupid, to feel nostalgic while watching someone handle a bag. It had almost been like a security blanket to him in Africa, she'd never seen him without it.

She made him carry a heavy rucksack that was full of her arsenal, and they walked out of the campsite, but not towards the truck they'd abandoned. Lily headed in the opposite direction and Marc followed behind her. There was another town, not too far away. They would get to it, restock supplies, and then head out. In different directions. Away from each other.

She had no right to be upset. She'd spouted it off to him, to Kingsley, and to herself – she didn't need him. She hadn't expected to find him in Colombia, so leaving him shouldn't make a difference.

But it did.

It was late afternoon when they finally found civilization. She restocked her water supply at a local market, then stole the market's delivery truck. They drove out of town together, heading south for a bit. Before she could hook east and head towards her rendezvous point, she bit the bullet and pulled the truck over. They idled on the side of the road, both of them staring out the windshield. Both of them not saying anything. Probably because there was so much left unsaid.

Nut the fuck up. He doesn't care about you, and you have a job to do.

“You're free,” she finally coughed out. “Go back to work. Get some jobs. Become
Marcelle De Sant
again.”

He chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. He needed a hair cut and a shave. He looked unkempt.

He looks gorgeous.

“Sweetheart, I haven't been him since I looked into a pair of green eyes six months ago.”

“Cute words. Maybe they'll work on the next girl,” she managed a laugh. He sighed.

“Lily, just let me do this. I've gotten closer than you ever did. I can end this – you don't have to be this person,” he insisted. She flinched at his word choice.

“
... we don't have to be these people anymore ...
”

“I'm already '
this person
', and I've lived and breathed this mission for over five years, so technically, I have seniority,” she told him.

“I don't care.”

This wasn't working. Communication had never been a strong point between them. Usually because they were too busy fighting. She decided uncomfortable honesty was worth a shot.

“Please, De Sant.
Please
. I
need
to do this. Just think of someone other than yourself,” she begged. He finally turned towards her, and his glare was so severe that she couldn't help but stare back at him.

“
All
I have thought about, this
whole
time, is
you
. Nothing else. You think I'm out here for my fucking health? I came out here so you wouldn't have to,” he told her.

It was a sweet statement, and if she was honest, it warmed her heart. But only for a moment. Marc had said sweet things to her before, and none of it had meant anything. He liked to spin what he knew she wanted to hear. She wouldn't fall for it again.

Please don't fall for it again.

“I didn't ask you do it. I was prepared to do it on my own, before you ever even came along. Then I wanted to do it with you, if you'll recall,” she told him. His glare softened a little.

“I couldn't do that, I'm sorry. I may be a bastard with a one-way, non-refundable ticket to hell, but I'm not about to take you with me.”

“That wasn't your decision to make.”

“I thought it was.”

“You think I'm some delicate, fragile, little girl wandering around out here.
I'm not
. I wasn't in Africa, and I'm even less of one now. You need to recognize that.”

“You're delicate
to me,
and I would die if I broke you.
”

Lily was stunned into silence. They stared at each other for a second, and she worked hard to get control of her emotions. Of course she had feelings for Marc. Those kind of feelings didn't just die. Didn't just disappear. But they could be controlled, and she had learned how to keep them under wraps. His words threatened to break them free, and she didn't think she'd survive the tidal wave of thoughts and fears and feelings that would take her over if that happened.

“That's very sweet,” she whipsered, then cleared her throat. “But it doesn't matter. We're nothing to each other now. Get out of my car.”

“We're never going to be nothing to each other, and it's all pointless anyway, Lily. Just go home.”

Sweetness, gone.

“
You
go home. Oh wait, you don't have one,” she snarled.

“I know his next move. I know exactly where he's going to be. I'll already have killed him before you even make your next move,” Marc finally showed his ace card.

Lily resisted the urge to scream. It could be a bluff, though she doubted it. Marc wasn't a big bluffer. A manipulator, yes. A liar, for sure. But this, she believed. Believed because it hurt, and that's what Marc was the best at – hurting other people.

“De Sant, please,” she whispered, resting her head against the steering wheel.

“My name is Marc.”

“
Please
. My sister. My life. My time. Please. Tell me where he's going to be.”

She hated that she was reduced to begging, and begging from a man like him. Kingsley would've just shot him and gone about finding Stankovski on his own. She wondered if she should do the same.

“I can't do that, sweetheart,” he said in a soft voice.

Circles. We're always talking in circles. You want something. He has it. How do you get it? Find something he wants and keep it from him.

Lily sat upright, though she kept staring out the window. How badly did she want to know what he knew? How hard would it be to start over again? God, she'd been in the same room with Stankovski. She wasn't sure she could go back to tracking rumors. She was ready for it to be over. Ready for it to end.

Ready to give this burden to someone else.

“I can make it worth your while.”

Her voice came out overly loud and harsh, almost echoing in the small confines of the truck.

“You have no idea how tempting that is, princess, but seeing as how I've been turning over a new leaf for the last six months, it's going to take a lot more than that to get me to break,” he chuckled. She finally looked at him.

“How much more?”

“A lot.”

“How about a million dollars?”

Marc's eyes got wide.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“Not enough? How about two million? Fuck it. Let's call it a cool five.”

Now he was looking at her like she was crazy.

“Okay, I think maybe I should drive you to a hotel, or a hospital, or something. Do you have Kingsley's number?” he asked.

Lily ignored him and managed to wiggle her backpack around to her front. She unzipped the flap and began rooting around. She dug around the bottom for a moment, then found what she was looking for. She pulled a small canvas bundle out and laid it on the seat between them.

“You lied to me,” she started in a shaky voice as she tossed her backpack to the floor.

“I never lied to -”

“
You did
. But ... I lied, too. I had to – to protect both of us, at first, and then ... and then to protect me
from you
,” she explained, working to keep calm as she unrolled the canvas.

“Protect us from what? And I never tried to hurt you, Lily. Not at the end. All I wanted was for us ...”

Marc's voice died off. She didn't blame him. It was a lot to take in. It never ceased to amaze her. She let out a deep sigh, and felt like she was letting out a breath she'd been holding for months. Felt like she was letting go of a weight. She was glad it was Marc taking the weight from her – he deserved to carry some of it.

After all, it was partially his to begin with.

“Feel like breaking yet?” she asked, and he finally looked up at her.

“I'll be damned, sweetheart. Just when I think you can't possibly blow my mind more than you already have, you go and up the ante.”

Diamonds are always a sight to behold, whether in a ring, or a necklace. Earrings or a bracelet. Loose stones in a bag. Shiny and bright, they captivated the mind and called attention in whatever form they took. When there was a handful of them, however, spread across a seat on top of a piece of black canvas, they looked particularly amazing.

Especially when everyone else thought they were resting at the bottom of an ocean.

“That's only some of them,” she said, scraping the diamonds into the center of the material and wrapping the canvas back up.

“How?” he asked, and he didn't need to elaborate. She knew what he was asking.

“I lied,” she answered simply. “I buried them in the desert outside of Casablanca, then I went to meet Ivanov. After ... after your letter, after I found out where to find Kingsley, I went back for them. I've been carrying them around ever since.”

“You said that's not all,” he checked, and she nodded.

“Yes. The rest are somewhere safe. If you tell me what I need to know, if you tell me how to find Stankovski, I'll give them to you. Give them
all
to you,” she told him, and finally looked into his eyes again. She had thought he would look elated. He had bled for those stones, almost died for those stones, but when she stared at him, he looked almost sad.

“All of them, huh? Awfully generous. I feel like I'm winning on this deal,” he tried to joke.

“Then you underestimate how badly I want to do this. These stones are fucking cursed. They've done nothing but give me bad luck. Take them, sell them, do whatever you want with them. I don't want them. I never did. Isn't that hilarious? Out of everyone on that continent who chased us for these, who fought for these, who
died
for these, I'm the only one who never had any real interest in them.”

They were both silent as she finished rolling them up. She tied the canvas shut, then set the lump back on the seat. When Marc didn't make a move to touch it, she picked it up and shoved it back into her backack. She didn't want him trying to run off with them, not before she got what she wanted.

“You think I have an interest in them?” he asked. She laughed.

“I think you have an interest in money, and right now, a lot of it is staring you in the face. Tell me what I want to know, De Sant,” she pushed. He looked thoughtful for a second, which was scary to behold.

“How about we make a deal,” he offered.

Lily groaned.

“Our deals don't work out so well for me,” she growled.

“You're not in a position to barter. Here's the deal,” he started. “You want information. I wouldn't mind getting paid for these last six months. We'll consider this a down payment. In exchange, I'll help you get to Stankovski.”

“Help me?”

“As in I'll let you tag along.”

“Fuck you, De Sant.”

“We've done that dance, sweetheart.”

“Just give me a goddamn address! You got the diamonds! You got resolution! What else do you fucking want!?” she yelled at him.

He was silent for a long second, and his stare was unnerving. Lily squirmed in her seat, gripping the steering wheel hard enough that her knuckles turned white.

“You really don't get it,” he said softly.

“Apparently fucking not. You know I'm good for the stones, so just tell me what I want,” she snapped.

“No. How do I know you even have the rest? How do I know you haven't already sold them off? How do I know you won't shoot me the moment you get what you want? No, I'm not stupid, princess. Information upon payment, that's how this business works. You can come with me, and maybe, if I'm feeling generous, I'll give up information as we go,” he told her.