The Bounty Hunters: The Marino Bros.: Box Set (113 page)

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Authors: MJ Nightingale

Tags: #Romance, #box set, #Anthology, #Fiction

BOOK: The Bounty Hunters: The Marino Bros.: Box Set
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The chief made to leave the podium. Andreas was enraged for Cat. Yes, what he said were truths, but he publicly outed her in the guise of saving anyone who had ever come into contact with her. Andreas began to pace.

“Where is Cat?” he asked of Gio who appeared just as agitated as he felt.

“Doing laps in the pool.”

“She hasn’t seen this yet?”

“No.”

“Fuck.” His fist slammed the wall and then he slammed the doors closed on the wall unit hiding the television from view.

“You going to tell her?” Gio gave his brother a consoling look. He remembered all too well when the woman he loved had been dragged through the media circus.

“I have to. She’ll see it as soon as she turns on the television, or opens her computer.”

“Okay.” Gio’s hand swept nervously to his hair. Then he wiped his palms along his pants while Andreas paced. “Andy?” he asked.

“What?” Andreas snapped still deep in thought. He needed to explain this to Cat, and he didn’t want to scare her, or hurt her.

“Andy, look at me.”

Andreas stopped pacing and looked at his brother. He saw the frown, the suspicion. He repeated his earlier question, but this time laser eyes focused on his brother. “Um, I know there is something going on here between the two of you. We’ve all seen it.”

“And?” he snapped.

“Andy, for what it’s worth, I think she is a great girl. But she runs an escort business, and she was a prostitute. I, we, just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

He was flabbergasted. “I, we, you have been discussing this?” Andreas saw red. He began to approach his brother. “First,” he poked his taller brother by an inch in the chest, “she is a good girl. Second, she may have been those things in the past, but since when do we hold people’s pasts over their heads. Third, you have no fucking clue what she has been through. Four, I am a big fucking boy. Lastly,” another poke to the chest. “Butt the hell out.”

Despite his brother’s tirade Gio did not back down. His answer was simple. “Hey, that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what the hell did you mean?” He stood toe to toe with his brother.

“Make sure you are talking. We all like her, but you know secrets can destroy you. I just want to know she is being honest with you.”

“I already knew about this. Not that it is any of your business, but she was a sex slave. Not a prostitute by choice. Don’t believe everything you hear on the news. You of all people know how they like to twist things.”

“You care for this girl?”

Andreas nodded.

Gio felt remorse and sudden guilt. His brother hadn’t told him much of what was going on with Cat. He knew there was something there, he just hadn’t known how much feeling there was behind it. He felt like an ass. He had come here to warn his brother. “Shit,” he spoke the word softly. “I got your back. We all do. And we like her. We really do. Go, talk to her. She’ll need you. I’ll tell the others to back off.”

Andreas nodded, knowing he had over reacted. Gio would have done the same thing. He gave his brother a smile, reassuring him it was okay, and then set off to find Cat.

Gio watched his brother leave. More than anyone, he wanted his brother to find something, someone to love. He wasn’t sure Cat was it. But he knew better than to say that now. His brother’s reaction told him all he needed to know. He was falling for her, and falling hard.

Chapter 17

Behind Blue Eyes

I
t had been
days and nothing. She still wasn’t back. Each night that week he had come around ten o’clock and using his key slipped into the Burbank’s apartment, and each night he waited for her to come home, but she didn’t. The smell of the bodies was becoming more apparent even though he had turned the AC on high to prevent them from decomposing too rapidly, but still he returned to find her. He regretted leaving the message in her bathroom knowing he had probably scared her away. But he just hadn’t been able to resist.

His urge to maim and kill was coming again. He could usually fight it. He could usually push it back for a while. But Thanksgiving was just days away, and he had nothing to be thankful for. Nothing. His father, and Andreas had taken all the joy out of his life. All of it. His father rotted in a prison cell still. If he could get to him, he would kill him too. But Andreas, he wasn’t so safe. He had been able to find out where he lived. But getting onto Anna Maria Island wasn’t easy. The bridge, the gate keeper, the security was tight. Only parts of the island were accessible to tourists. Where the high end residents lived, security was provided, and he was sure the security at Andreas’ home was even tighter. He found out where his brothers lived, and checked them all out. It had not been an easy feat. Using the city busses and walking was his only means of transportation right now. He needed to get a car. He also needed to get a gun.

The only time he caught a glance of one of the Marinos was when he had been sitting across the street at the bus stop waiting for a bus on Nebraska Avenue. He was fifty yards away from the front of their shop. It had been Nikko, the youngest. He had gone in alone and had not stayed very long. He had just been getting on the bus when he saw him run out. He hadn’t wanted to stay long. It was a risk going there in broad daylight. But since, he had gone back twice more. The only other person he saw was a middle aged woman going in and out. Must be the secretary; she always took in the mail when she arrived.

Maybe he would go after her he thought, as he crept out of the closet, disappointed once more. It would satisfy his blood lust until he could figure out a way to get to one of them.

When he went back down to his floor, his supervisor was there and he didn’t look happy. “I’ve been here for thirty minutes, Darryl. I hope you weren’t on another floor again.”

He was quick to answer. “No sir, went to the bathroom. A bit distressed.” He patted his stomach to indicate his bowels. His boss, a man in his late twenties, was a pip squeak nerdy looking fellow.

He gave Sal what he was sure was a disappointing look before looking away. “Well, I came to drop off the new cleaning supplies. They’re in your closet. Consider your bathroom break your lunch break then,” and with that he shook his head in disgust and went to the bank of elevators. He gave Darryl one last sneer before getting on.

The little man annoyed Sal. A lot. He was tired of taking orders from him. Yes, maybe the secretary was his way to go, he thought. Maybe he could use her to lure the others out.

He slipped out his pocket knife, and used a finger nail to remove the dried spot of blood on the blade he must have missed when he cleaned it a few days ago, and slit the top open. Picking up one of the canisters of furniture polish, he placed it on his cart and began to push it out into the passage. The hallways had mahogany railings that needed to gleam. Fingerprints to make disappear. Unfortunately, he needed this job. It paid the rent, and he needed a car and a gun, so he would take his shit of a boss’s abuse awhile longer. Yes, he thought, put money away, and live frugally; income was income. But maybe he would kill the fucking nit-wit too. He thought about the knife in his pocket. Yes, he could cut out his eyes, his disapproving eyes, just as easily as he’d done with some of the girls.

Only Catarina had looked on him kindly, had not thought of him as a monster. She was different, special. Catarina. No one understood what it was like to be him, to be hated for something he had no control over. So lonely. That’s why he sought vengeance. To mask the pain.

He polished the wood, and buffed the fingerprints on them until they gleamed, while humming softly his wordless tune, “
Behind Blue Eyes
” by the Who.

Chapter 18

Thanksgiving

T
hanksgiving saw a
flurry of activity in the Marino household. His Aunt Mary had arrived early with two large turkeys already thawed, accompanied by her daughter-in-law, Monica, and her twin sons. Both were asleep in the play pen they had set up in Andreas’ study. After a light breakfast, all the women descended first upon the babies and then upon the kitchen chasing the men out as they began to whip of the traditional feast, each contributing their specialty to the meal. Ronnie was learning how to make lasagna from Lisa. Monica was helping with the stuffing of the birds, and Bella was whipping up pecan pies and pumpkin pies.

The men had been sent to watch the kids, Johnny and the twins. Johnny hooked up his Xbox to the TV in the study and was playing mortal combat with Nikko. He had drawn the lines for a tournament in which they all had to play on a large sheet of construction paper.

The men sat on the sofas, Blaze, Gio, Andreas, and their cousin Nick, Monica’s husband who was an army trainer.

Cat was helping the women, and she had asked Andreas to go shopping with her the day before so she could whip up her own concoction, a spiced wine that she said was traditional in her country though she had never made it before. He had been more than happy to oblige her. She had agreed to stay, thankfully, even though her security system was installed.

He wanted her to feel included in their family celebration especially after her breakdown out by the pool a few days ago when he’d told her about the news report.

When he told her a story just aired exposing a lot of her past, and warning anyone who had dealings with her to be cautious, she had been at first enraged, and then sad. She had been sitting beside him on a sun lounger after he called her out of the pool. Wrapped in a towel, he had witnessed her outrage turn into defeat.

“This is beyond ridiculous,” she blurted out and jumped off the seat. He got up too as she began to pace.

“I know. I am just as shocked as you.” The look he gave her conveyed his sympathy.

She stopped suddenly, and turned to look at him. “You knew?” she questioned, uncertainty and doubt in her eyes. “About my past?”

He didn’t want to lie to her. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry. I know you told me not to pry into your past, but Romeo has been after my family for a long time. I had to be sure. But, it doesn’t matter to me. I knew you couldn’t be involved even before that.”

She frowned, expressing her displeasure. “But you never revealed to me you knew.”

He came closer, and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand along her arm. He stroked it lightly. “Because it doesn’t matter to me. Your past. You were right, though, it was your story to tell.”

His hand on her arm had caused tiny pin pricks of pleasure. She focused on that hand, but remained silent for a moment. “Answer me this. Not that it matters because the whole world knows now about street urchin turned prostitute, but did you tell your brothers? Before the story?”

He continued to stroke her arm. “No, I didn’t. And if I had, and told them I believed you, and cared for you, they would still have my back. That’s what family does.”

He heard her sigh. “I wouldn’t know,” she turned from him, her back facing him.

He approached her from behind, placed his hands on her shoulders, and slowly turned her back towards him. He wanted her to see the sincerity in his eyes when he spoke his next words. She looked up to see his face, and he saw tears brimming in her wavering grey eyes. “Cat, I am sorry I violated your trust. I promise to never do that again. I swear. And, for all it’s worth, I know I am not family, but I am here for you now. I will see this through to the end, and do whatever it takes to prove your innocence, and keep you safe.”

One lone tear slipped down her cheek, and she used the back of her hand to wipe it away. But she gave him a small smile. It was encouraging.

He lifted his hands to cup her face and using the pad of one thumb, he traced the trail the tear had made. “I promise,” he repeated.

“To be by my side?” she asked.

“Yes, if you will let me.” His words were sincere.

“I have no one else,” she whispered, the words came out chokingly as she tried to keep the emotion at bay.

“You have me,” he whispered and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Andreas?” She looked up and once again pierced his blue eyes with her grey ones. “If I were alone hearing this I would not be crying. I want you to know that. I am strong. I always have been like Stone.”

“I know,” he encouraged. “You are one of the strongest women I know.”

“I cry because I didn’t want you to know about my past because I did not want to see pity in your eyes.”

“Do you see pity in my eyes, Catarina?”

“Please, just call me Cat. It is my name, after all. Katarina was my great grandmother.”

“Cat, do you see pity?” he asked once more searching her soul.

She shook her head negligibly. Her face still in his grasp. “No.”

“What do you see, Cat?”

“I’m . . . not . . . sure,” she stammered. She had never seen a man look at her this way before. With lust, anger, disgust, curiosity, but never the look this man’s brilliant eyes portrayed.

“Can, I show you what you see?”

She gestured a yes, afraid of what might come next, but her blood began to warm, her body to hum as his gaze left hers. He wet his lips, and then a second before he pressed them to hers, he was looking into her eyes—just a breath away.

Lost in the moment, she could only focus on the touch of his lips as they met hers, very gentle and then more firmly as he encouraged her to open. He licked at the seam of her mouth, and she gasped at the intensity of the feeling that little action evoked in her. He sought entrance and she melted into his arms, but they were there to support her. Her tongue met his, tentatively at first, and the sensations of being held, being genuinely wanted, warmed her heart.

Her body was pressed tightly against his, and the sensation of just a single kiss began to spread and reach to her nipples, her belly, and finally her core. He held her close, and she could feel the heat of the man pressed up against her through her bathing suit. The towel had slipped and pooled at her feet. When he pulled back, and ended the kiss, she almost cried out in regret.

“What you see, and what you felt, Cat,” he whispered into her ear, and kissed the side of her face, “is longing, and yearning, because I think I have found what has been missing in my life.”

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