Borden (Borden #1) (6 page)

With his arms crossed, Marcus didn’t move to me once. He just stood there, waiting, that emotionless face staring back at my worried one. The guys around him broke up just enough for me to move within his circle and stop in front of him. Marcus glanced at them, and with that single look, they parted ways entirely, giving us space to talk. I was a nervous wreck, wondering how I could even begin to apologize for my father’s horrendous behaviour and somehow mend us at the same time.

“Hey,” I hesitantly said, trying to smile at him.

He leaned forward and quietly said, “What’re you doing here, Kate? It’s ten at night.”

“I wanted to talk to you about this morning,” I replied. “You said you’d call, and after the whole incident with my father, you didn’t.”

“I figured your old man would be monitoring your phone, and I didn’t want you in more trouble than you already were in.”

“He wasn’t monitoring my phone, and I don’t care about being in trouble if it means being with you.”

Marcus sighed slowly. “Kate,” he whispered, and his voice sounded pained. “I don’t want you sneaking around with me anymore –”

“I know that, and we won’t.”

“But your father was right.”

I stilled, staring at him in surprise. “He was right about what, Marcus?”

“I’m no good for you. I’m a fucking screw-up, and even if I wanted you not to sneak around, I’d have to be the one to do it. With my job and the amount of trouble I’m getting myself into, it’s not safe for you to be around, especially now. For fuck’s sake, it’s late and these people you see around us here aren’t as tolerant as me of people with money. You’re lucky you found me here.”

“I won’t come around here this late again.”

“That’s not enough, Kate.”

I grabbed at his arm and desperately squeezed. “I can’t be without you. We’ve been together every day. How about you just keep coming to me instead? I’m not ready to let you go, Marcus. I
can’t
. It would break me. I’m already breaking.”

He’d become too much a part of me, and I was willing to admit that. I wanted to. It sat on my tongue, inching its way out.

“I love you,” I breathed out, swallowing a lungful of air at the admission. “Okay? That’s the truth. I love you and I can’t be without you –”

He cut me off just then with a hard kiss. He gripped my hair tightly as he took me in, and I felt like he needed me to say that. He needed to know he was loved. Dear God, in that moment, I wondered so much what horrors he went through to feel this way. When his mouth broke from me, he kept his forehead pressed against mine, looking at me with sad eyes.

“Marcus,” I whispered, and he closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, like he was breathing me into his being. “I’ll throw it all away. I’ll leave it all behind for you. I want all the ugly.”

His hand instantly dropped and he took a step back from me, torn and miserable. I couldn’t understand why he would be. He should have wanted this too.

“I don’t know what to do,” he then said, shaking his head. “You deserve more, and I’d be robbing from you if you left it all behind.”

I shook my head too. “You wouldn’t be robbing me of anything.”

“I can’t trust that’s how you’ll feel in the long term, babe. I’ve seen it before. You’ll start to resent me –”

“It’s not fair to say that. You’re just speculating. It could be the total opposite. I might love being with you more, and isn’t that worth the risk?”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I wish it was that easy. I’m in a lot of shit right now. You’ve been in the blind where I’ve kept you. There’s a lot you don’t know, and you being here right now isn’t a good idea. You need to go. You need to get out of here before anyone decides to say something to you.”

“Then come with me.”

“I got business to take care of.”

“What, the drugs?” I hissed, feeling angry that he’d choose to deal than come home with me. Didn’t he hear me two seconds ago? I’d just told him I loved him, and that wasn’t easy to do either.

His face darkened as he glanced around us, and then he grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me back to the car.

“It’s more than that,” he gritted out in my ear. “It’s that you’re my fucking weakness, and you being here in front of everyone has revealed that. You need to get in your car and never come back to this place again.”

“And what about us?” I cried out as he opened my car door.

He stopped against me and stared hard at my face. “You need to focus on what’s important right now –”

“You’re important!”

“I’m talking about your classes, your friends, your family, everything else that existed before me.”

“But I need you.”

He sighed heavily. “Maybe I’ll be good enough for you one day. Fuck, I’d do anything for that to happen, but that’s not in my cards, Kate. It can’t happen now. You have to go, and stop having a loser like me drag you down. Your father loves you. He’s doing this to protect you.”

“He’s painting you black and white!”

“I know, and maybe I deserve that for my poor choices. Point is, he’s not being malicious. He’s being caring, and fuck, Kate, if there’s something in life you have to treasure, it’s the love of your family. I didn’t get that, and you need it.”

“No.”

“Yes, you do.”

He was right. I hated that.

“So go,” he told me. “You have to.”

I resisted at first, but he stared me down, unwilling to take no for an answer. I didn’t cry. I was angrier than I was sad.

“You’re making a mistake,” I told him.

I glared at him and climbed back into my car. With my hands squeezing the steering wheel as tight as I could, I drove out of there, watching his form in the rear-view mirror grow smaller as I went.

He wanted me to let go.

But I wouldn’t. Never.

I reached out for weeks, called him relentlessly, and received nothing on the other end.

It was only after the third week I’d heard about him leaving town.

He didn’t return for four years.

*

“You should have moved on,” the man said, amused. “That could have been the end of you and him. You could have lived your life and this entire thing – you and me, right here and now – wouldn’t have happened.”

“I couldn’t move on,” I replied, honestly, staring at the dark figure. “My heart didn’t let me move on.”

Hearts wanted what they wanted, with or without your say.

“Do you think he loved you?” he then asked. “You emptied your heart out, and he never said it back.”

I sighed. “Marcus loved the idea of me more than he loved
me
.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, in his head, I was unattainable perfection. He could never feel worthy of me if he stayed like that.”

The man hummed thoughtfully. “Do you think that’s why he left town?”

“I can’t be sure, but… I always wondered about it. I always wondered what was going through his head the night he took off.”

And in this cellar, with the clock winding down, I knew I’d never get the answer to that question.

“You defied your father, though, didn’t you?” he pried. “That’s why you became a teacher.”

“Yeah.”

“When did you know Marcus had returned?”

I smiled softly. “I was at the grocery store in the checkout aisle getting ready to pay, when I glanced at the magazine rack and saw the local newspaper. I remember I went still all over. My heart squeezed so painfully. I picked up the newspaper with a shaky hand and read the article beneath the picture of him shaking his hand with the city mayor. He’d donated half a million dollars to renovate New Raven’s historic building previously scheduled for demolition, and they were thanking him for keeping the history alive by helping with the funding. He saved the building, and he was a hero for a while.”

The news of that had been earth shattering to me. I felt like somebody hovering over her body, trying to grasp with a reality that didn’t seem possible. Yet it was true. Marcus had come back wealthy beyond belief, answering to nobody, all the while looking like an Adonis. He must have packed on fifty pounds of muscle.

“How long after when you saw him?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and shook my head slowly, staring hard at the man. “No more.”

I wouldn’t tell him how intimate Marcus was to me. How hard he fought for me when he returned. How different he was in every way, yet still giving me parts of his old self that I knew lurked within him.

I remembered taking my morning walk through the park outside my apartment a few days after I’d read the paper. I remembered the way the air changed when I stopped at the gardens. I knew, before even turning, that he was there. And he was, dressed in a suit, looking remarkably unrecognizable. He’d stared at me with his heart on his sleeve, mesmerized by the sight of me.

“You came back,” I whispered.

“I came back for you,” he whispered back.

I let out a faint sigh and felt my body slowly shutting down. I wouldn’t give this man anymore moments. They were mine and he couldn’t have them.

“So you’re cutting to the chase,” he stated slowly.

I forced a nod. “Yeah,” I breathed out, braver than I’d ever been before in my life. “I am.”

I thought of Marcus when the man stood.

I thought of the raw love I held for him as the man moved toward me.

I felt that love in every inch of my soul as the man darkened my world with his hands around my neck. I fought to stay alive with everything inside of me, but it was no use.

I was dying, and his face flashed before my eyes as I took my last breath. For a split second, Marcus was over me, holding me, telling me it was going to be alright.

And then the blackness did finally consume me.

Marcus

She’s in the river, Mr Borden. I left her in one piece, which is more than you deserve. Consider that the next time you bring a woman close. Fuck off from our turf. These are our streets. Not yours.

His soul had shattered at the message.

He was too late.

Marcus waded into the quiet waters, vaguely hearing the sirens of the ambulance and police cars in the distance.

The figure floated, face up, a flicker of blonde hair swaying in all directions under the cloudy sky. He swam, uncaring of how cold the waters were, uncaring of anything but her. With eyes rimmed red, he frantically moved to her, his mouth trembling as he neared.

“No,” he choked out.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

His vision swam and darkened. He nearly lost consciousness from the shock as he reached out to her. Her pale skin was ice cold to the touch. He wrapped his arm around her body and pulled her to him.

“Kate?” he whispered fearfully.

He turned her face to him and his heart collapsed in his chest. Her eyes were open, but there was nothing there. He shook his head in denial and stroked her cheek.

“Wake up,” he pleaded. “Wake up. Don’t do this to me. Don’t… Don’t fucking do this to me! No, no, no.”

He let out a guttural cry, sucking in the air in his lungs as he tried to accept what had happened, what he was looking at, what he was touching.

“I fucking love you,” he let out, feeling the knife-like pain cutting into his chest. “I fucking love you and I never told you. I never fucking told you. I never…”

His thumb roamed over her lifeless face, over her thin lips, and fuck they were still red, even in death. His fingers floated through the strands of her long blonde hair, and he grabbed a fistful, sucking in more air as his world twisted apart around him.

No. No.

Shaking, he swam back to shore with her and carried her to a spot on the sandy ground. His body was an earthquake, his face had paled at the sight of the woman he returned for. The woman who had given him purpose when he had been lost and gone. He opened his mouth but his voice was trapped inside his lungs. His vision swam but no tears fell out.

He collapsed over her, burying his face into the soft curve of her shoulder. That was the moment the colours in his world diminished. He tore himself away to look down at her face and saw nothing but black and grey everywhere. Digging his fingers into the sandy earth, the acute pain in his chest was accompanied by an anger that made his blood run cold as death.

It was exquisite, this anger.

It gave him purpose, this anger.

It
changed
him.

Whatever was left of Marcus that day died on the riverbank with Kate Davenoth.

“The tragedy of life is not death but what we let die inside of us while we live.”
Norman Cousins

Emma

They nicknamed him the Tank, and I could see why now that I was standing in front of him. The man was bloody huge. Like, Ajax the Great kind of fucking huge. I had to crane my head to take in all six and a half feet of him.

But Marcus Borden was a lot younger than I expected. He looked to be in his early thirties. His brown hair was longer than previous images I’d seen, curling just a little at the nape of his neck and over his forehead. His face was heart shaped, and he had plump lips, a strong straight nose and high cheekbones. I’d have thought pretty features such as his screamed
pretty boy
, but that was the last thing he was. At the calculated way he moved and with cold eyes like those, he screamed
predator
instead.

And only one word was going through my mind in that moment:
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I was immediately overwhelmed with fear. I felt like somebody had knocked the wind out of me. His grave expression instantly put me on edge, and when his resilient blue eyes flashed to mine, even for the half of a second that it did, my heart picked up and I could feel my speedy pulse thump in my ears.

Why the
fuck
am I here? The one night I agree to come out and this is what happens…

There were three of his men standing around him and a tall, slender redhead in a skimpy red dress hanging by his side. She was looking at me, amusement scribbled in her gentle features at my predicament. I instantly hated the bitch.

Borden, wearing a thick black sweater and dark jeans, was standing in front a large steel table, sorting through an open briefcase when we first walked in. I couldn’t see the contents of his briefcase from where I stood, nor did I want to. What I wanted desperately was to be away from all of them. This was like a bad scene out of some B-grade mafia movie, and any second someone was going to put a bullet through the back of my head. I looked behind me, just to be sure.

Yeah, I was losing my shit.

Again:
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I had been dragged here forcefully by a man they called Hawke, and his hand was still currently wrapped tightly around my bare arm. When I looked down at it, I felt my stomach churn. He was missing his third finger, and the skin around his forearm was thickly scarred.

He roughly situated me in front of the table across from Borden. I watched as another man walked to where he stood and leaned into his ear. “Found her in the alleyway when we were taking care of business. Think she saw everything…”

The walls were vibrating from the music roaring outside the back room of the club, drowning out the remainder of his words. Or maybe that had been the cause of my heart climbing into my ear canals, beating my hearing riotously into deafness. Whatever. It didn’t matter, did it? Fact was I couldn’t hear shit without straining.

Still looking down at whatever was in the briefcase in front of him, he said, “What did you see in the alleyway, Miss…?” His voice was low and smooth but had a backbone of authority in it. He appeared almost bored, as if this was yet another inconvenience.

“I didn’t see anything,” I quickly responded.

“He asked for your fucking name, bitch,” growled Hawke, digging his fingernails deeper into my arm.

“Well, I didn’t really know that, did I?” I couldn’t help snapping. I honestly wouldn’t have done it if I was in the right frame of mind.

My heart picked up at the way Hawke looked at me. I swallowed hard and uttered, “Emma Warne. That’s my name.”

Borden instantly looked up at me. “Emma Warne?” he repeated, a note of surprise in his voice.

My brow furrowed at his strange reaction before Hawke’s grip tightened once again in warning. “Y-yes,” I quickly said.

Borden just stared at me for a long moment, and the silence was awkward as shit. I sort of wanted to fade into nonexistence at the look in his eyes, all hard and curious. Then, before I could question that look, his face smoothed out and he returned to normal.

“Have you given her a pat-down?” he asked Hawke.

Hawke nodded. “There’s nothing really to check. The dress is pretty skin tight.”

Borden eyed me carefully, roaming my body from top to bottom. It wasn’t heatedly either. Just clinical. “Did you check her bra, see if she’s concealing…blades of any kind?”

I tensed suddenly. How the hell could he know that?

“I didn’t check her bra. I’ll do that now.”

The second Hawke’s mangled hand shot up to my chest, I jumped back. “No!” I hissed. “I’ve got a switchblade in my bra. I’ll get it myself.”

He looked to Borden to see if that was alright, and Borden nodded. All eyes were on me as I stuffed my hand down my top, searching for the blade concealed under my breast. I pulled it out, and my breasts were practically on display before I fixed them back into place. My face was flaming red as I reluctantly handed Hawke my switchblade. Not that I would mourn it or anything. I had a dozen others in my apartment. He took it and placed it on the table before returning to stand next to me.

Silence again.

Borden looked like he was deliberating, shooting a quick glance at the weapon every few moments.

“Do you make a habit out of using this blade, Miss Warne?”

“It’s for protection,” I simply responded, my body breaking out in sweat at how hard he was looking at me.

“Do you put yourself in danger often?”

“No.”

“Then what were you doing out there on your own in an alleyway this late at night?”

Strange how simple questions you would have easily answered before become hard and impossible to clearly put into words when fear took you. I stuttered, blinking several times, trying to put together a line before Hawke cursed loudly. “Fuck this, she’s going to lie, Borden,” he said. “She can’t put two words together–”

“I wanted some fresh air.” I interrupted him. “It’s very cloudy in the club and I’m not use to being in crowded places… I wanted some fresh air. That’s all. I didn’t see or do anything–”

“She’s lying,” Hawke cut in sharply.

“I’m not lying!” I didn’t mean to raise my voice but this Hawke guy was really aggravating me. It was like hate at first sight with this douche, and he glared at me like I was a fly that needed to be squashed/burned/mutilated.

Borden’s mouth formed a frown at my outburst.
Fuck.
He shut the briefcase loudly and set each palm face down on the table, leaning forward just a little to study me.

Staring at his face was difficult, but I felt like I had no other choice. He was willing me to with those hypnotic eyes; there was no way I could escape them. Then he glanced over my shoulder, and just the simple action prompted Hawke to shove me closer to Borden, until my legs were touching the steel table, and I was merely feet from him.

Closer to him than ever before, my eyes danced around his face. I could feel every part of me tense, bewildered for a moment at the stark beauty the man embodied, and then caught up in a wave of trepidation when I remembered who I was really staring at.

A bad man.

A dangerous man.

Regardless of the way he looked, he was cold and wicked, and I was just a lamb brought for slaughter.

“You’re holding yourself quite well, Miss Warne,” he remarked, going over every inch of my face and body as if it answered something to him. “You haven’t been drinking.”

Still tense, I shook my head. “No.”

“Odd for someone to come to my club and avoid a drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“What a load of shit,” Hawke said under his breath.

“I don’t drink,” I repeated quickly before they all started to doubt me. “I-I haven’t for years.”

“She’s lying through her teeth,” the redhead pitched in loudly. “Look at her. She’s stuttering and shaking –”

“If I wanted your input, I would have asked for it.” Borden’s voice hadn’t changed but his face flashed with anger as he looked over at her. Shit, that look was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. She instantly went quiet and crept back. Any bit of confidence she had before completely drained away, which was sort of alright in my books after she’d smiled like a bitch at me just minutes ago.

It seemed nobody felt safe around this man, no matter who they were.

“How long have you been here?” he then asked, turning back to look at me.

“Two hours maybe,” I answered hesitantly.

“Did you come with a man?”

“No.”

“Who did you come with?”

“A friend of mine.”

“Is your friend still here?”

“Yes.”

Curtly, he said, “I recommend next time you come out this late at night and hang around alleyways, Miss Warne, that you come with a man on your arm. Being alone like this makes you vulnerable and easily taken advantage of. The last thing I need is a trail leading to my club because you were dumb enough to get into some trouble with a measly switchblade you wouldn’t have found time to dig out between your breasts for protection.”

I was beyond red. “I told you I was with a friend.”

“And you also just told me your friend doesn’t have a pair of swinging balls, isn’t that right?”

“Well, yes, but –”

“Point made. Don’t fucking do it again, in or around
any
of my establishments.”

I shut my mouth, fighting the urge to tell him I was a grown woman and I could do whatever the hell I wanted to, but, yeah, that wasn’t happening. Not when I was standing in the middle of a dragon’s den, ready to be devoured if I so much as blinked the wrong way.

“And next time,” he added, a small smirk accompanying his lips, “try avoiding alleyways for a place to take a breather. That’s simple street logic.”

I bit my bottom lip, holding back the curse words itching to come out. I was pretty sure it was the fear stopping them from taking over.

“So where are you headed to now?” he harshly asked.

“To my friend?” I had no idea if that was the answer he wanted.

“Wrong. You’re going home. Isn’t that right?” His face darkened as he regarded me.

Heat rose to my cheeks. I nodded quickly.

He eyed my bare arms. “Have you no coat, Miss Warne?”

“I do… I don’t know…I don’t…” I began stammering, looking down at my black dress and bare arms, wondering where the hell I put it before I remembered I never even brought it.

For several moments he watched me flounder before turning to the asshole beside me. “Hawke,” he said irritably, “Miss Warne is a little confused. Perhaps we didn’t account for her slow mind. Take her to her house before she continues talking shit.” His grim gaze landed back on me. “I don’t want to see you at my club ever again. Do you hear?”

I nodded again.

“Good.
Get the fuck out
.”

Hawke steered me roughly out of the room. My head was spinning and I could hardly keep my legs up. My knees buckled, but Hawke kept me upright. Even though we were heading away from the danger, I knew I was having a panic attack. My vision was blurry and spotty. I stared at my feet moving unevenly on the ground. I was practically being dragged by this man. I heard loud voices and music in the background before cold autumn air hit my body. Before I could process anything, I was in the back of a moving car.

“What’s your fucking address?” Hawke roughly asked me.

“2514 Maple Street,” I answered through numb lips.

I had my arms wrapped around my queasy stomach the entire way there. When we reached the tall apartment building, Hawke walked me past the group of men that usually loitered around the complex during the night. He didn’t say a word. He stayed put behind me, watching me carefully unlock the glass door with the key hanging on my necklace.

When I opened it, he continued to watch me walk hesitantly to the elevator. I looked back at him several times; his long hair and thick beard stood out in my memory the most. When the elevator closed and I could see him no more, I immediately hunched over and threw up in the corner of the elevator. Nothing came out because I’d hardly eaten anything that day, but I couldn’t stop heaving. Acid burned my throat, tears and black hair blurred my vision, and my stomach clenched painfully until the feeling passed.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and almost crawled to my small one bedroom apartment, using the walls for support on my way there. It was three doors down from the fourth floor elevator and it felt like the walk of my life. I could hear the normal television noise next door and the screaming of a couple across from me. Usually I’d be annoyed at this, but I welcomed it for the first time. It brought me back to the familiarity of
my
world instead of what I’d just walked out of.

I didn’t change, or wash my hands, or even make it to the bedroom door. I collapsed into my three seater couch and shook violently. It would have been just after midnight when I’d come in because I watched every hour from one to six tick on by.

I’m not sure what I was thinking about the most: Marcus Borden, or the man that was being strangled in the alleyway.