Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) (17 page)

“Marc.”

“
Again.
”

“Marc, please. Please, Marc, please, please, please ...”

His let go of her leg and his forearm hit the bed, right next to her ear. With his chest still touching hers, he began jackhammering his hips against her, making her shriek again. Her hands gripped his sides, fingers digging into his rib cage.

“Look at me,” his voice was more like a growl.

“Marc, I'm gonna … I'm gonna ...” she couldn't catch her breath enough to finish her statement. Everything was being forced out of her; was being taken by him.

Same ol' story
.

“
Look at me.
”

It was a command, and he didn't give her a chance to heed it. His hand hooked around her jaw, his fingers splaying against the side of her face, and he forced her to turn towards him. Her whole body was going into spasms, spiraling out from where he was pummeling into her.

“
Please,
” it was the only word that seemed to be left in her vocabulary.

“I have been dying to see this again. C'mon, sweetheart, let go. Let it all go,” he urged her.

Lily screamed when she came, pounding one of her hands against the headboard behind her. The orgasm doubled back on itself, calming down before rushing back through her, causing her back to arch completely off the mattress. Every swear word she'd ever heard came pouring out of Marc's mouth, and his grip on her jaw became painful as he came as well, one of his knees ramming painfully into the back of her thigh. She shivered and shook, wrapping her other arm around his shoulders, trying to hold onto him. Trying to keep herself firmly on earth.

They didn't say anything. The only noise in the room was their ragged breathing. He let himself relax, all of his weight coming down on her, forcing her legs wider. Her thighs began to shake and she licked her lips.

“I can't believe we just did that,” she whispered. He snorted, then she felt his lips against her shoulder.

“I can't believe it took us that long; we could've been fucking since Colombia. See what happens when you're a bitch? You miss out on good sex,” he teased, and she actually laughed.

“See what
you
miss out on, when you run away and send me a shitty letter,” she tossed back at him.

“Excellent point. I'm an idiot.”

Lily stared at the ceiling, slowly getting her breathing back under control. His letter. She had every word burned into her brain, yet still, they were right back where they'd started.

No, that wasn't true. The diamonds were spilled across the floor, he hadn't taken them. Hadn't even looked at them. She was his home, he'd said. He was sorry, he'd explained. She was too good for him, was his reasoning.

Is that a lie? Or was everything else a lie? Note to self – never fall for a mercenary again. You can never trust them.

“Tell me something,” her voice was hoarse and sounded loud in the quiet room.

“Anything,” he replied, and his lips were replaced by his teeth, biting on the side of her neck.

“You wrote that stupid letter in Casablanca,” she reminded him, and he grew still. “Why didn't you give it to me then? Why didn't you just say something then?”

“Because …” his voice trailed off, and he was silent for a while.

“Because you were nervous I wouldn't believe you?” she guessed. He shook his head.

“No. I was nervous that you'd talk me out of it,” he explained, and she held her breath. “I wanted you
so badly
. I wanted what we had, I wanted it to continue. But after I found out about your bounty, I knew we couldn't keep going. I knew I had to take care of you, which meant leaving you. I'm weak when it comes to you, and if I had told you to your face, you would've fought for us.
And you would've won
. That wouldn't have been right. I wanted to … I
had to
do what was right. I'm a bad man, Lily. I've done awful things. But you, you are the best thing I've
ever
done, and I had to do right by that.”

Well. Who knew Marcelle De Sant, the “famed” mercenary, could speak such beautiful words? Lily wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist.

“I get it, Marc. I finally get it. And you're right, I would've fought for us, and I would have won, and we could have done all this
together
. It's a beautiful sentiment, but you still fucked up,” she told him. He chuckled again.

“Story of my life, sweetheart.”

There was a breeze from somewhere, and Lily shuddered, her sweat covered skin breaking out in goosebumps. They were both still naked and soaking wet, Marc still laying on top of her. She lifted her head and glanced over his shoulder, looking down the length of his body. Took in his muscled back and strong legs. She groaned and fell flat again.

“God, Kingsley is going to kill me,” she groaned.

“You talk about him way too much,” he pointed out.

“You're the one who brought him up during sex.”

“Shut up, Lily.

“This was a big mistake. You know that, right?” she asked.

“Maybe. But I gotta say, you and I? We make the
best
'big mistakes',
ever
,” he replied.

She started laughing, but was cut off when his hand moved to her breast. Then the knee that was shoved against her thigh moved forward, and she was suddenly very much reminded of another time when they'd made a “big mistake”, in the back seat of a stolen SUV, in a dark alleyway.

“Mmm, maybe we have time for just one more of those mistakes,” she whispered, shifting around underneath him.

“Sweetheart, I love the way you think.”

Lily woke up slowly, taking her time coming out of the blackness, but movement near the bed abruptly jerked her out of it. She slithered sideways, still not entirely awake and not able to see clearly in the darkness. She immediately reached under her pillow, feeling around for the gun she normally slept on top of.

“Easy there, princess. I thought this morning you wouldn't be quite as hostile towards me.”

Marc's voice was full of laughter, and she realized he was sitting at the foot of the bed.
His
bed, that's why there was no gun under the pillow. Lily yawned and sat up, scratching a hand through her messy hair.

“What time is it?” she asked, glancing around. All the lights were still out, but sunlight was peeping through the drapes.

“Just after seven,” he said. She looked back at him, and was surprised when she realized he was fully dressed. Even had his shoes on, as well as his jacket.

Uh oh
.

“What's going on?” she was on guard, and she hugged the sheets to her chest.

“Last night wasn't a mistake,” he stated. She stared at him.

“If you say so.”

“
I do
. And I can admit that maybe writing you that letter ... writing you off,
that
was a mistake,” he went on. She snorted.

“No shit.”

“You're amazing,” he went on, and she was stunned into silence. “Watching you in Colombia, and even at Damiano's. Kingsley was right – he usually is, you know – you are something to behold. Better than I ever could have imagined.”

“He's a good teacher,” she said softly.

“He is.”

“But you could've been a part of it,” she added. He shrugged.

“Too late now. You're right, you don't need me. You probably never needed me. You would've done just fine on your own in Africa,” he laughed as he said it, but she got angry.

“Don't say that,” she snapped.

“No, I'm not saying that I regret it. Shit, Lily, I nearly got killed every day we were together, and it's still the best time I ever had in my life. I would do it all again, in a heartbeat,” he assured her. “I'm just saying, I get it now. What you've been saying since I first met you. You're strong. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. You're just as good as me, as Kingsley, as
anything
that's been thrown at you.
You don't need me
. I don't want to stand in your way.”

She wasn't sure how to respond to that, really. Better than him apologizing for the letter; better than him explaining his reasoning behind leaving her; him admitting that she was an equal. It meant more to her than anything else. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Finally. It only took three continents and six months for him to admit it.

“That means a lot,” she managed to whisper, then cleared her throat. He sighed and stood up, grabbing something off the nightstand.

“Here, this is for you,” he said, handing her the canvas bundle that held all the diamonds. “It was never about them, you believe me now, right?”

“I'm beginning to,” she replied slowly, taking the package from him.

“You have more than earned them. Look, Stankovski is gonna be in New York. There's this big event, the jewelry showcase, that takes place in an area called the 'Diamond District'. He's going to be there, at the grand opening of his new store. It'll be crowded and crazy, but it's your best shot. I did some digging, and he also owns a home in New York. Some farm, near Ithaca,” Marc explained.

“A farm? Why would he have a farm?” Lily was surprised.

“No clue. He's ostentatious, maybe he just wanted a slice of Americana. He won't be staying there, he had a huge apartment built on top of his store, he'll most likely be there. But just in case, I wrote down the addresses of both locations,” he told her, then nodded at the nightstand. She glanced over and there was notepad sitting there, the first page covered in his chicken scratch.

“Why'd you write them down?”

“So you could have them. That, and any other information I could think of that might come in handy, I put it all down there. No more secrets. No more deals. Now you know exactly what I know. It's all out in the open,” he assured her. She narrowed her eyes.

“Then why do I feel like I'm still missing something?” she asked. He nodded his head and sat back down, but this time at her hip.

“You have your mission. Your crusade. I won't stand in the way of that anymore. And Kingsley … you guys are amazing together. I'm going to do what I should have done back in Liberia. I'm going to step aside, and I'm going to let you do what you need to do,” he told her.

“You're leaving.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Yes.”

There was a long silence. Lily wasn't sure what to say. He was right, really. Ever since he'd chained her up in Liberia, she'd been begging him to let her finish her mission. Ever since she'd bumped into him in Colombia, she'd been trying to get him to leave. He was rash, and he was sloppy. Worse, he was a distraction. One she didn't need, so close to her finish line.

“So I guess last night really was a mistake,” she managed to laugh, wrapping her fingers around his and squeezing tight.

“No. I think last night was the first time in a long time that I didn't make a mistake,” his voice was soft as he squeezed her back.

“Thank you, for telling me the truth. And for giving me the information. I mean, I totally would've found it on my own,” she joked, and he laughed.

“Of course.”

“But thank you, Marc.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

The silence became awkward. She didn't want him to go, but she had to no reason to ask him to stay. She didn't need his help. He finally smiled at her, slapped the back of her hand, then let her go before he stood up.

“Do you have a plan?” she asked, watching as he slipped his pack over his shoulder.

“Do I ever have a plan? Nah, not really. Maybe it's finally time for that vacation,” he teased.

“Maybe. Take care of yourself, okay?” she told him. He pulled the straps of the bag tight, then walked towards her.

“Always. And hey, maybe if you ever get a free moment, tell me how you're doing.”

“Why? Want to keep tabs on me?”

“No, but you're a crazy bitch, I worry about you.”

She burst out laughing.

“Alright, Marc. I'll hunt you down.”

“You better.”

He leaned down and kissed her then. It was bittersweet. A moment that had to happen, but she didn't want it to end. She pressed her hand to the side of his face, then let her fingers slide around to the back of his neck, holding onto him.

“I'll miss you,” she whispered when he moved to press his forehead against hers.

“You can't stand me,” he pointed out.

“True. But still.”

“Yeah, I know. I'll miss you, too, sweetheart.”

They shared one more kiss, then Marc pulled back from her. Her hand fell away, landing on the mattress with a thump. She had the bundle of diamonds in her other hand, gripping them to her chest. Inexplicably, she wanted to throw them. Hurl them across the room. Rid herself of them.

“See you around, De Sant,” she called out as he opened the door. He smirked at her.

“Not if I see you first,
Brewster
,” he called back. Then he winked, stepped through the door, and was gone. Lily leaned forward, pressing her forehead to her knees.

Why does this hurt? You don't need him.
You don't need him.

*

Two hours later, she stood in her own room, staring at the bed. She had showered and gotten dressed over at Marc's, then gone back to her room. She had expected Kingsley to be waiting for her. In fact, she'd halfway expected him to burst in on them last night. She'd been surprised that he'd given them privacy, and was fully prepared to thank him, after she apologized for the way she'd treated him. But neither of those things happened when she went back to her room.

He was passed out, snoring loud enough that someone in the other room was pounding on their wall.

Jesus, can't leave him alone for five minutes.

She should've known better than to let him storm off. Lily knew Kingsley very well, knew what he did when he got stressed out or upset. He must have gotten tanked.
Hammered
, if his snoring was anything to go by; she was lucky he'd come back at all. Since she'd found him Thailand, he hadn't really gone off the deep end again, but she'd known there was a chance he could again.

In their line of work, assassination was where all the money was – killing someone paid the best of anything they did, but Lily refused. She was fine with stealing from people and with scaring people, even roughing people up, but she wouldn't take a life. Not unless it was self defense, or Stankovski. Just her own personal hard limit.

Kingsley was not only fine with it, but he was rather good at it. The first time he ever took a hit job, while with her, had been in Los Angeles. Right after they'd pulled off a big heist, he'd taken the hit contract, on a whim. Just for himself, because it had a big bounty. He'd marched out the door, and she hadn't thought much of it. Kingsley was a big boy and had been doing his job for a long time, he wouldn't even be in the same building with the mark. She wasn't worried.

But then he didn't come back for fifteen hours. She'd almost lost her mind, thinking he'd been captured, or worse – killed. She'd searched everywhere for him, every drug den and “massage parlor” she could find, but nothing. Just when she'd been considering driving to Vegas to search the whore houses there, he'd turned up. His suit was rumpled, and he reeked of booze, but other than that, he was all in one piece.

They never spoke of it, continued on as if nothing else had happened, but that's when it was cemented in her mind that Kingsley wasn't as okay with his life as he liked to pretend. Women and alcohol, and sometimes drugs, were how he dealt with it all. All the stress and anxiety, and sometimes even anger.

And she had certainly made him angry.

“Kingsley,” she said his name in a loud voice, moving to stand next to the bed. He was sprawled out on top of the covers, and though his jacket was missing, he was still wearing the rest of his clothing. Even his cuff links and tie were in place, his shoes still on his feet. She snapped her fingers in front of his face, but he still didn't show any signs of waking up. She sighed.

“Wake up!” she yelled, slapping him sharply. He snorted and his eyes blinked open.

“
Mai!
” he snapped, rubbing his cheek.

Where have I heard that name before? Thailand … six months ago … when I woke him up in the shower … who is Mai?

“Wrong chick, asshole,” she chuckled. He groaned and put both hands over his face.

“Fucking hell, what time is it?”

“Close to nine.”

“Shit, I have got the worst hangover.”

“That's what happens when you drink your weight in alcohol.”

“Did I really?”

“I'm just guessing, it could have been more.”

“Cheeky,” he grumbled, moving his hands and looking around.

“You love my brand of cheeky,” she informed him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a sitting position.

“That's stretching it a bit, darling.”

“Do you feel better about yourself? And the way you behaved?” she asked bluntly. He paused for a second, then frowned.

“Ah, yes. I think I remember now. I'd forgotten.”

“Are you still drunk?” she checked. He rubbed at his eyes again.

“Unfortunately, no. I've got a roaring headache, though, so please, go easy on me. I'm not in the mood to be charming this morning,” he warned her. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, readying herself to eat some humble pie.

“I'm sorry,” she said quickly. He didn't look at her, just pulled a loose cigarette out of his pants. It was bent, but he stuck it between his lips anyway.

“Not even worth mentioning, darling,” he assured her.

“It is. You have been amazing to me, and you didn't deserve to be talked to like that. I handled it badly, and I'm really, really sorry. I feel awful. You're my best friend, Kingsley. I don't know what I'd do without you, or if anything happened to you. I was just angry, and tired, and in the mood to be a bitch. I'm sorry,” she let it all pour out.

He was silent for so long that she started to get nervous. Maybe he was building up to really let her have it. But then he pulled out his lighter and lit his cigarette, and just like that, she knew they'd be okay.

“Thanks for that, love. I needed it. I'm sorry, as well. Sometimes I make bad choices – you're right, I
was
using you. But I must say, you are a fantastic kisser,” he said, managing a smile for her. She smiled back.

“That means a lot, coming from you.”