Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) (6 page)

He heard the door knob jiggle, and it must have had an effect on Lily, because she sighed, and the next thing he knew, she was kissing him back. Like warm memories and better times. Marc groaned again. Even if it was just pretend, if it meant his fantasies for the last six months were going to come to life, he was going to take advantage of it.

God, I missed you, sweetheart.

Shock wasn't a big enough word to describe how Lily felt, looking up to find Marc staring at her in that ballroom. Anyone else. It literally could have been anyone else – her father, Mickey Mouse, Hitler, and she would've been less surprised. Marcelle De Sant wasn't real, anymore. He was a figment of her imagination, something that usually only appeared late at night, when she was alone and missing a more dangerous time in her life.

Besides, wasn't he supposed to be in Brazil!? Wasn't he ... anywhere she wasn't?

Wasn't he not quite this good looking!? It's unfair that such a dick can be so good looking.

Dancing with her was bad enough. They'd fought, as had always been in their nature, but it wasn't the same. She hated him. He'd lied to her, and he'd manipulated her, and he'd abandoned her. Told her she wasn't good enough, then told her to go home. She
loathed
him.

And yet, his arm was around her, and his eyes were so blue, and she'd missed him
so much
.

Rat bastard
.

And of course, along with fighting, their other old friend made an appearance – bad luck. Next thing Lily had known, she was being dragged upstairs and shoved into a bedroom. There was arguing. There was kissing.

So really, it was just like old times.

The bedroom door swung open, but she barely registered it. Marc's hands were moving over her body, pressing down on her breasts. He moved one lower, sliding it over her hip and around to her ass, pulling her away from the wall and into himself. She ran her hands down his chest and worked them under his jacket, smoothing around to his back. She bit into his bottom lip and that earned her yet another groan, followed by his tongue filling her mouth.

Acting a part, acting a part. Not enjoying this at all. Nope, nooooope.

People were in the room. Someone was barking questions in Spanish. Marc ignored them, and the hand on her ass suddenly moved and grabbed her thigh, yanking her leg up to his hip. She made a big show of pulling his belt apart, all while his mouth moved down her neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses in its wake. His hands were back at her chest and buttons flew as he yanked open her blouse. One hand went down the top of her tank, and suddenly Lily didn't care that they had an audience. Marc was touching her again,
that
was all that mattered.

“
Excuse me!
” a voice barked out. “You cannot be in here. You go now.”

Marc's free hand began rooting around in his pocket, and he pulled out a handful of pesos. He held them out to the nearest guard.

“We go in twenty minutes,” he panted, shoving the money into an open hand.

“Twenty minutes? Jesus, that's disappointing,” she gave a husky laugh, then moaned when the hand on her breast squeezed.

“Alright. Twenty minutes. We come back, and you leave room,” they were warned.

But neither of them could answer, as their mouths met again and their tongues moved against each other.

Her mind had registered the length of time since he'd left her, but her body didn't notice it at all. It recognized his touch as if they'd been together just the day before; like no time had passed. It made it all even worse. Her brain had done a good job of pretending it was over him. But her body had longed for him for six months. Had missed him. Hadn't understood why he'd left.

That thought brought her to her senses, and Lily abruptly shoved him away. They were both breathing hard. Marc's pants were undone and Lily's blouse was hanging open. Her matte red lipstick was smeared across his mouth and chin. She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over her hips.

“Okay, we need to figure this out,
right now,
” she told him.

“Alright,” he agreed, though he seemed a little dazed. She resisted the urge to smirk.

“I didn't come here for you. Nothing I've done in the last six months has been for you,” she lied. “You're not a part of this. You were
never
a part of this, except for a couple weeks in Africa. I will not let you ruin this for me again, De Sant. When we walk out of this room, you're going to leave the house, and I'm going to finish this job.”

Marc's daze wore off and he glared as he put his pants back to rights.

“I've been a part of this since the moment you opened that safe, and you know it. What do you think I've been doing this whole time? Fucking vacationing? I'm not exactly getting paid for this shit.”

“No one asked you to do any of this shit. You just took it upon yourself. You just ran away and decided to solve a problem that wasn't even any of your business.”

He flinched and Lily smiled.

“I thought you'd understand,” he grumbled, glancing in a mirror that was behind her. He yanked off his bow tie and used it to wipe at lipstick around his mouth.

“Then you thought
wrong
. All I understand is that I got lied to and told I wasn't good enough. So I went and found someone who did think I was good enough, and then I threw all my efforts into solving my own problems,” she filled him in.

“Someone, huh? Who is this amazing soul that's turned you into this raging bitch?” he asked.

“I was always a raging bitch, and who he is, is absolutely none of your business. Now get out of my life and get back to your own.”

“I liked you better when you weren't so combative.”

“You haven't seen combative yet.”

“I also liked you better when you had tits. What's happened to you?” he stated bluntly, his eyes wandering over her body. She sucked in a sharp gasp of air.

“It's been six months, De Sant – you don't care about my tits.”

“On the contrary. There are few things in life that I've ever cared more about than your tits.”

“My tits aren't any of your business, anymore.”

“And your ass is gone, too. Is looking like a man your goal? Because you're succeeding.”

It was true. She'd lost a lot of weight, what with all the training she'd done with Kingsley. She'd never been overweight, but she'd been curvy. As they'd ran and fought and taken jobs, she'd watched her body shrink, her curves replaced by tone muscles. She was proud of her body, proud of the work she'd done.

But that didn't make his words hurt any less.

“Time to go, De Sant. We're done.”

She shoved past him and moved into the hallway. Of course, he'd never listened to her in the past, so she wasn't exactly surprised when he ignored her command and followed her. The upper floor appeared to be empty, and a glance at her watch told her the guards wouldn't be back to check on them for another fifteen minutes or so.

“So what's your plan?”

“
Go away,
” she hissed, skirting the edge of the banister and heading into the west wing of the house – where she knew the personal rooms were situated. Damiano would've placed Stankovski's room close to his own, as a valued guest.

And as someone he'd want to keep an eye on.

“I'm not just going to let you blunder around on your own,” Marc told her.

“Really? You didn't have a problem with letting me do that six months ago,” she snapped, counting doors as they passed them.

“I thought you'd go home,” he said. She stopped moving and he bumped into her.

“Home!? Did you really think that after all that, after everything we'd gone through, I would just fucking waltz home? That I
could
go home? You're fucked in the head, De Sant.”

Her voice was barely more than a growl, and she could feel her anger bubbling just under her surface. Clouding her judgement. Threatening to blind her. Kingsley's smooth voice rolled through her head, blanketing her emotions.

Kingsley's law: Few things can ruin your plans quite like anger. Love, fear, sadness, all can motivate, but anger? Anger will fuck things right up.

“I'm sorry if that's how you felt, but I did what I had to -”

“Shut up, De Sant. Just shut the fuck up, I don't have time to play couples therapy with you. This is Stankovski's room. If you won't leave, then at least get out of my way,” she said, stopping in front of a large oak door. He stepped up to her chest.

“Did telling me what to do ever work for you in the past?” he asked. She glared.

“Jesus, you're annoying.”

“Yet still not half as annoying as
you.
”

“God. Let's just get this over with.”

Marc nodded and pushed on the door.

There was no time. He slid into the room, and not wanting to be caught begging in the hall, Lily slipped in directly behind him, actually pressed up against his side. So she didn't know that someone had slipped a burlap bag over his head till a matching one was being put over her own head.

Just like old fucking times.

Marc was yelling her name, but she stayed silent, concentrating. Whoever had the bag, they were struggling to pull it into place at the back of her neck. She grabbed her captor by the wrists, then she snapped forward, bending at a right angle. The man holding the bag was flipped over her, landing hard on his back and taking the bag with him.

Lily dropped into a crouch and immediately kicked off the wall behind her, diving between Marc's legs and scrambling under the bed. Someone grabbed her ankle, but she let out a shout and kicked whoever it was in the face before she crawled out the other side, jumping to her feet. She looked around quickly – Marc was struggling with the man who was holding his arms, shouting obscenities, but with the  bag already over his head, it was clear he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It would be up to her to get them out of their situation.

There was a standing floor lamp next to the bed and she grabbed it, ripping the chord out of the wall before swinging the lamp like a bat. It connected with one man's head, shattering the stained glass shade and knocking him to the ground. She wasn't a bow staff expert, not by any means, but Kingsley was deadly with one, and had taught her some basics. She spun the rod above her head before slamming it against the back of another man.

“
Enough!
”

Everything stopped. The bedroom door was open, and a form was outlined in the bright light from the hallway. Then the figure moved into the room, the door was shut, and an overhead light was turned on. Lily blinked, her eyes taking a moment to adjust before Damiano Ledo came into focus.

“We tried, boss,” one of the men breathed. As if to emphasize just how difficult the task had been, Marc jerked his head back. The burlap bag and his skull connected with his captor's nose, and the man shouted in pain before punching Marc in the small of his back.

“Such a pity. That was a Tiffany lamp you broke. Very expensive,” Damiano sighed, walking farther into the room. Lily tried to get her breathing under control, tracking his movement with her eyes, holding the rod of the lamp above her head.

“I'm sure you can steal another one,” she replied.

“And funny, too! Quite a catch! But the time for games is over,” he informed her. She nodded.

“Alright. When did you know?”

“Oh, from the moment you entered the party, I recognized you. And then this clumsy gentleman, my bugs picked up his bumblings early on,” he explained, gesturing to Marc.

“So while dancing, you knew who I was,” she clarified.

“From the beginning.”

“Then why -”

“Because it's so fun. Watching you play, watching you act like you knew what you were doing. That's all done now, though. Time to drop the lamp. You're out numbered, out gunned, and out witted,” Damiano told her. Lily narrowed her eyes, then spun the lamp rod in her hand, twirling it till it was pointed at Damiano's chest. She gripped it in her fist and pivoted so she was facing him.

“Try something. This will rip through your chest before any of them can fire a shot,” Lily threatened.

Quicker than she could have imagined him capable of, Damiano whipped a gun out from under his jacket. The barrel was immediately pressed against Marc's forehead. Time stopped for a moment.

“Yes, but can you throw it before
I
fire a shot?” he asked. Lily licked her lips and glanced around the room.

“Aw, c'mon, we were getting to be such good friends. Why don't you kick out your goons, I'll ask my friend to wait outside, and you and I can work something out,” she cooed at him in a sexy voice. He snorted and Marc growled.

“Valiant effort. Do as I say,” Damiano's voice got hard. Marc started shifting around again, trying to break free.

“Fuck that. Do whatever you have to do to get out!” he yelled, his voice muffled by the bag.

“Uh,
sweetheart
, he's got a gun. Against your head,” Lily informed him.

“I don't give two shits. Throw whatever it is you have and get the fuck out of here!”

“Chit chat over! Drop the lamp, Liliana!” Damiano commanded. Marc started jerking harder against his restraints.

“Don't you fucking do it, Lily. Don't you fucking do it! You know better! Get the fuck out of here!”