Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) (5 page)

There were few things in life Marc held dear and true. He was a mercenary after all, so he didn't consider nobility and honor to be that big of a deal. Money was his primary religion. He'd kidnapped women, held them for ransom. He'd killed men, for hefty prices. He had no problem with lying, cheating, and stealing, as long as it all resulted in a paycheck. Nothing else mattered.

Until about six months ago. Now, a pair of green eyes and some wavy red hair mattered very much to him. In those six months, he hadn't made a dime, yet he'd burned a lot of money, chasing vengeance for those green eyes. Commiting crimes for that red hair. And all under the premise that by staying away from her, he would be protecting her. She would be free to live a normal life, away from the pain and degradation that came along with life his way.

So why THE FUCK is she here in Colombia!?

“Let me go!”

When she'd first looked up at him and realized who was holding onto her, she had looked completely shocked. Silence for almost a minute. Obviously, she'd pulled herself together. She tried to break free of his hold.

He hadn't recognized her with his eyes, but his brain had known there was
something
about the woman dancing with Damiano. How could he recognize her!? Gone were her amazing red locks and alabaster skin, her full breasts and generous ass. Now she had a toned and trim body, an all over tan, and sleek black hair. She looked so different from the Lily he'd known six months ago.

Still looks amazing. Can't hide those eyes, sweetheart.

“What are you doing here!?” he asked, glancing around the room.

“What am
I
doing here? What the fuck are you doing here!?” Lily shot back, still struggling against his hold. People around them started to notice and openly stared.

“Dance with me,” Marc suddenly said, pulling her close. She snorted.

“You're fucking crazy if you think -”

“People are staring.
Dance with me.
”

He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist. She took a sharp breath, and for a moment he thought she would argue with him. But then he started moving and she didn't resist.

It was crazy, that someone could look so different, yet feel exactly the same. The curve of her waist, the heat of her body. And the smell, good god. Lavender, surrounding him. It was like stepping into a time machine. All he needed was some sand and some scorching sun, and they would be back in Africa.

Of course, half of his mind was always in Africa, anyway. Always with her.

“I can't believe this is happening,” she suddenly whispered. He glanced at her. Many things may have been different, but she hadn't been able to change her most striking feature. Those large, green eyes. So big, they could've swallowed him whole.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Have you been following me?” he asked, keeping his teeth clenched together. She snorted again.

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“Ah. Stankovski,” he figured. “Apparently, you don't know how to read.”

“What?”

“I told you to forget him, that I would take care of it.”

“Great fucking job you've done so far.”

Still feisty. He'd almost forgotten how annoying she could be.

Had almost forgotten how much he'd missed it.

“The song is gonna end soon. I'll walk you to the door, then you can -” Marc started to inform her, but then she stopped moving, forcing him to break hold.

“Who the fuck do you think you are!?” she demanded, her voice louder than he would've liked. He glared at her.

“Keep it down!”

“You don't tell me what to do. You don't
ever
get to tell me what to do, De Sant. You're nothing to me. A stranger. You have
no right
to say
anything
to me. Six months! Six months and no word, and then you just show up out of nowhere, and you think you can start telling me what to do!? You don't know me. You have
no idea
who I am now, and you, you're just ... just a bad memory.
Now get the fuck out of my way.
”

The scariest part of her statement, Marc realized as they stared at each other, was that she was technically right. He didn't know this woman, this raven haired, cold hearted beauty. Her words were filled with a venom that actually surprised him, and they stung. A bad memory? Almost getting killed for her were some of his
best
memories. He'd once told her that she didn't have to be the person she was anymore; clearly, she'd taken it to heart. She was something entirely new.

But still. His heart recognized hers, and that was all that mattered.

“It would seem,
Brewster
, that your job and my job conflict with each other,” he replied, trying to keep his voice even and flat. She continued to glare up at him. “Do you know what happens when competing mercenaries show up for the same gig?”

That earned him a laugh. A real laugh. He'd imagined it so many times, but imagination was never as good as the real thing.

“I'm sorry, competing? I don't see any competition here,” she challenged him.

“What the fuck have you been doing these last six months?”

“None of your goddamn business. Just walk away, De Sant. You may have been playing the gallant this whole time, but I've invested
years
in this man, and I'm not about to let you fuck it up
again
. So turn around and -”

Anger was rolling off of Lily in thick waves. He could feel her aggression, her hurt. Her feelings of betrayal and abandonment. But that didn't matter. A job was still a job, and right at that moment, he noticed Damiano glancing at them. Worse than that, Damiano's companion was glancing their way, too. Roksana's hair just barely hid the bruise on her forehead, the one she'd gotten when he'd slammed her face first into a dresser. He grimaced and turned, yanking Lily around with him.

“Look, as much as I love it when you yell at me, sweetheart, we don't have time for this. C'mon, you can tag along,” he said, stepping back from her.

“Tag along!? I'm going to shoot you, De Sant, I swear to christ.”

“Sounds fun. Let's go.”

He grabbed her forearm and didn't give her a chance to argue, just yanked her along behind him. He pushed his way through the crowd and finally emerged in the foyer. He would've dragged her outside, but a guard was standing in the doorway.
Fuck.
Marc frowned and turned, hurrying up the stairs. She stayed with him till the top, but as soon as they headed down a hallway, she yanked free of him.

“What is going on!?” she whisper shouted at him. He finally turned to look at her.

He had a realization. He'd only ever seen Lily in her “work gear” in Africa – usually tank tops and cargo pants. Clean face and hair in a pony tail. Now she was dressed up, her all black outfit making her look even taller and trimmer than she really was; very model-esque. She was also wearing make up, making her eyes even more hypnotizing. It was impossible to look away from them. To look away from
her
.

Goddamn, she is gorgeous.

“That blonde woman down there is Mrs. Roksana Stankovski. She knows me. She might have recognized me,” he explained. She groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Are you serious!? Months of fucking tracking these people, then you go and fuck it all up for me! You are the worst. If you would've just gone on your way, it would've been fine! I had no ties to you, she wouldn't have recognized me. Now they might have seen us together. You are such a fuck up, De Sant,” she growled at him. He'd never heard her sound like that; he'd heard her mad and upset and sad, but never hateful. Clearly, time had done nothing to soften the hurt he'd caused.

“Hey, I didn't know you were going to be here, didn't know you'd be fucking dancing with one of my marks. Why can't you ever do what you're fucking told? I left you for a reason! A
good
goddamn reason!” he snapped. She stomped up close to him.

“I don't give a fuck why you left. A note? A fucking letter? What are you, a girl? Couldn't do it to my face? Fucking pussy. You're outclassed, De Sant. Get out of my way, or you'll get hurt,” she threatened.

Oh my, she's grown some balls. What have you been up to, sweetheart?

“You're even bitchier than I remembered. What've you been doing this whole time?”

“Nothing that's any of your business.”

“You're here, that makes you my business.”

“Get fucked, De Sant.”

“Ah, if only we had the time.”

She went to respond, then stopped. Seemed to hold her breath for a second, even closed her eyes. After she'd calmed herself down, she opened her eyes again and stared straight at him. It was obvious she was struggling very hard to control herself.

“I don't have time for this. You're right, we're here for the same reason. I don't want this to get ugly, so let's make a deal. You can have Damiano – he's got plenty of bounties on his head. There's nothing on Stankovski, so leave him to me. You get a payday. I get revenge. We both win,” she suggested. He shook his head. Whether she liked it or not, he'd made a promise to her. He was going to keep that promise.

“I don't want a payday. I want to finish what I started.”

“What
I
started. You have no quarrel with him and you know it, De Sant,” she pointed out.

“My name is Marc.”

“Your name is unimportant. We're wasting time.”

“
You're
wasting time.”

“Is this really happening!? Shut up, De Sant, and get the fuck out of here!” she yelled at him.

“Keep talking to me that way, and we'll see -” he started to threaten, but then he heard something. Footsteps at the bottom of the stairs.

“Shit,” Lily whispered.

Marc growled and grabbed her arm, pulling her into the nearest room. He shut the door behind them, then shoved her up against the wall, boxing her in with his arms. They stood completely still, both of them listening.

“See what your bitching has done?” he whispered. “Now we're both going to be up shit creek.”

“
My
bitching!? I'm surprised you could even hear me over your own ego!” she hissed back. He pressed his hand over her mouth.

“Please keep quiet, princess, or neither of us will have to worry about finding Stankovski because he'll find us,” he warned her. She glared, and then he yelped as she bit down into the fleshy part of his palm.

“Don't call me that! Don't call me anything! Let me go, and I'll deal with this situation on my own!” she told him, pushing against his chest.

“You're not equipped to deal with a sitution like this, Lily. You're in over your head,” he informed her.

“We've been training for this situation for six months, don't tell me what I can and can't do. Let me go,” she ordered.

“
We
!?” he asked, staring down at her, forgetting to listen for a moment.

“I'm warning you, De Sant.”

“Who the fuck is '
we
'!?” he demanded.

He never got an answer. There were heavy footsteps in the hallway, which effectively shut them both up. Whoever it was, they were moving slowly. Almost stealthily. Searching for something.

Or someone
.

Through the course of his snooping around, Marc had noticed other people traipsing up the stairs. Giggling women and drunken men, stumbling into rooms together. Presumably, they weren't all sneaking off to plot the deaths of their hosts, and thus their actions were overlooked.

“We can't just stand here. They're checking the room across the hall,” Lily whispered. Marc looked down at her and she was staring back, her eyes big and glassy. A sliver of moonlight was cutting through the room, landing directly across her face. They'd fought and argued, and he was still absolutely floored that he was standing in a room with her, but he pushed through all that and thought up a plan. He smiled at her.

“I'd say forgive me, but I'm not gonna be sorry at all.”

“Sorry for what?”

He pressed his lips to hers, flattening his body against hers. She let out a muffled yell and pushed against his chest, but he didn't move. He cupped his hands on either side of her neck and moaned. He thought he'd remembered how soft her skin was, but memory was a poor substitute for the real thing. Like satin. Like silk. Like a small piece of heaven.

“
Stop it! Or I really will shoot you!
” she threatened when he finally moved his mouth away from hers.

“Lily,” he breathed, trailing his lips along her jaw. “Hear that? They're in the hall. They're going to come in here, and they're going to wonder what business two people could possibly have in this room.”

“That doesn't mean you have the right to just -”

“Shut up and sell it, Lily.”