For the Fight (Romantic Suspense) (Beyond Blood, #2) (12 page)

I was miserable.

The man I was chasing wasn't here. Or, I hadn't found him yet. But I'd looked, stomped my way across every foot of the place until my aching feet wished I had shoved them into newer, better shoes. Jacob had bought me so much, I should have insisted on comfier heels while I was at it.

I swirled the drink in my hand. It had been hard to turn away every other waiter with a tray, they swarmed like flies—trying to be helpful, but in the end, making me feel like I'd buckled and given in to their efforts. At least the wine was tasty.

Leaning on the wall, I felt someone nearby. The kind of sensation of hot eyes that I might have missed if I wasn't already so on edge looking for someone. Blinking, I turned and spotted a man watching me. He wasn't anyone I knew, just a guy who could have blended into the crowd in his black suit and James Bond bow-tie. Not someone I cared to talk to—but he'd caught my eye. And now, he was swaggering my way.

Ah, fuck,
I thought silently. I didn't need this right now.

He stood over me, a glass extended, an offering of peace. “Why, hello there! Sorry if you keep hearing this all night, but I just had to tell you, that dress looks
amazing
on you.”

Blushing nervously, I looked side to side. How did I get out of this politely? He clinked my empty glass with the new one, making me wonder where he'd gotten it from. “Uh, thanks,” I said. Setting my champagne flute on a table, I took the one he gave me. “You're very kind.”

“Kind?” His teeth were off-white, his smile no where near as nice as Kite's or Jacob's. “My dear, I'm only being honest. You're a lovely creature. What's your name?”

Ugh. I needed to escape. “Marina,” I said, twisting the stem of the glass. I was debating on excusing myself. Would he get the message? Fuck, I was not used to guys hitting on me so openly.

“Marina, that's a perfect name for you.” If he made a joke about men coming in to dock with me, I was going to slap him. Instead, he tilted his glass and beamed. “I'm Baxter. Cheers, to the lady in red.”

He started to drink, and since it would free me from speaking, I moved to copy him. I didn't get that far. The hand on my shoulder startled me, fast fingers plucking my drink away. “Kite!” I gasped, boggled by his appearance. His arm snaked around my middle, a deliberate motion that screamed,
“This is mine.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, winking and making it clear he wasn't sorry at all. “But I need to steal my lovely wife for a minute.”

I was burning with shock, but I still caught the look of disgust Baxter gave us both. I also saw how he stabbed his glare at me, looking for a ring. Kite had closed his fingers tight, hiding my hand from his prying eyes. “I didn't know,” he muttered. Was I crazy, or did he look at my drink in Kite's hand? Was he regretting giving it to me?

Pulling me towards the gardens, Kite laughed in his throat. “Forget it. Not a problem. People try to steal her all the time. Have a good night, don't do anything
stupid
, okay?”

Baxter flushed, watching us until we were out in the cool night air. Once there, Kite let me go, his eyes twinkling. “What the hell was that?” I asked, though no anger touched my voice.

“That asshole was bothering you,” he said. Lifting the drink I'd been holding, he tipped it, poured it onto the grass. “Plus, he thought it'd be a good idea to slip you something. What a piece of shit.”

My mouth had fallen open. I stared at the wet ground, then looked back up to Kite. “He tried to drug me? How did you know?”

He answered with a casual shrug. “I was watching.”

He was watching.
Like spying on my movements and habits was a normal thing. But I couldn't be upset, he'd saved me. Hugging myself, wishing my jacket wasn't at the bag-check, I felt my smile growing. “Thank you,
husband
.”

Kite's grin went ear to ear. “Anytime, wife. How is the night treating you?”

That made me falter. “Not great. I haven't found him. I assume you haven't, either.”

Shaking his head, Kite toyed with the side of his tie. “Nothing.”

Lifting my chin, I gazed out over the gardens. We were near the hedges, a fountain tinkling in the darkness. The opening into the building glowed like a dragon's mouth. No one was near us, they gathered closer to the warmth inside or smoked by the doors. “Do you think Jacob found anything?” I asked softly.

“I doubt it. If there was anything to find... I think we would have, by now.” I must have flinched, because he stepped closer, hurried to correct himself. “That doesn't mean this guy won't show up, Marina. It's still early.”

He was right, but my gut said otherwise. Looking at his hand, I studied the empty glass. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Reaching out, I touched his wrist—then took the champagne flute. “If the guy hadn't tried to roofy me, would you have still stepped in?”

Kite's mouth was a tight line, his voice just as tense. “Yes. I would have.”

In my chest, my ribs struggled to contain my rippling lungs. “Why? Why would you stop him, but not care if... if Jacob...”

“Shit,” he said, the sound of a man who'd walked into a trap. There were goosebumps on my skin from the chilly air. Kite's palms came down on my upper arms, adding to the array. “Marina, I'll make this clear. I'm not jealous of Jacob. I'm never going to be. I trust him with my life, with everything.” The night sky framed his face, his features sharp as blades. “But I
am
fucking jealous of every other single man on this planet who would dare to flirt with you. If I see them try, I'll stop them again and again. I'm sorry that it sounds hypocritical, but that's how it is.”

I felt his voice in my marrow. If I leaned forward, I could put my forehead on his chest. How would that feel? “I don't want strangers to flirt with me,” I whispered. “I shouldn't... I shouldn't let you do it, either. Or Jacob.”

His mouth came down, but it didn't kiss me. Kite hovered, his nose on mine, his breath sweet with wine. It left me wavering. “You shouldn't, and we shouldn't be getting wrapped up in you, either. Guess we're all just weak, aren't we?”

Screwing my eyes shut, I tried to breathe in the clean air. All I found was more of Kite. “Maybe you're weak,” I mumbled. “But I'm not.” I heard him chuckle, but then my head was all rushing blood and atomic bombs as I swept my lips over his.

We lingered like that, and might have stayed, if Kite didn't pull away. He left a gorge in me when he did, my thighs shaking with instant desire. God, I wanted him—he looked and tasted amazing. How was I still holding the wine glass? How was I still standing, for that matter?

“Let's go inside,” he said. I saw the fire in his stare, and the way he adjusted the bulge in his pants wasn't subtle. The sight of it was a wicked tease.

His comment about my target possibly showing up floated back into the front of my lust-soaked brain. “Alright. Yeah. We should... probably chill out a bit.”

Kite flicked his attention down, and I followed, noticing the hard shapes of my nipples outlined through my bra and dress. His raspy groan, then strained chuckle, sent lightning to my lower belly. “Chill out. Right. Let's get some un-drugged drinks, then.”

That was a good plan. I felt drugged on his heat and adrenalin already.

Marina

––––––––

I
had two glasses of wine in me, music in my blood, and I'd started to accept that nothing would be accomplished tonight. Well, nothing regarding my revenge, anyway.

One of the wide rooms has been converted into a dance floor. The lights were dimmed, and every variation of cocktail dress and evening gown began to sway with the clean-cut variety of men. The music was surprisingly good for what I considered a stuffy event, and I still had no clue what the charity was for.

They'd announced the names of the major benefactors, a number of them anonymous. People had clapped, I had drank, and not once had Kite left my side. I still had no clue where Jacob was.

Finishing my recent drink, I went to look for more—everyone is allowed to drown their sorrows—when Kite hooked his arm around me. “What are you doing?” I asked, twisting to face him.

He aided me in that, yanking me firmly against his chest. “I think it's called dancing,” he teased. Scooping up my fingers, he led me deeper into the crowd.

“I'm not a very good dancer,” I laughed, caught up in Kite's impossible to shatter grin. He was always so proud of himself, so coy and amused. The part of him that was fast—fast enough to kill in broad daylight—had faded in my mind. He made it easy to forget.

“Dancing isn't hard.” Scraping his way down to my middle, the hitman held me like I was going to fly through the roof any second. That sensation had me burning, and then he pushed the notch up by shifting until he was squeezing my hips. I gasped, and he just leaned closer.

Kite slid against me, rocking his body in a gentle wave. He had rhythm in his blood, and I would have struggled to keep up with him on a good day. He was kind enough to take control, a hand on the middle of my back, one rolling to touch the outside of my thigh. He knew what he was doing, he made no unintentional steps.

I think I said... something. The music was taking over where his sensations didn't. I lost track of where I was, focusing solely on the growing heat between us. He spun me, pushing his weight against my soft ass. A hand curled down my belly, forcing me to back into him, to grind on his growing erection. This was filthy dancing, meant for dive bars and not pristine museums.

Neither of us cared at all.

He kissed the side of my neck, I closed my eyes. We moved together, my body catching onto his wavelength. I rocked with him—against him—and wanted so much more. He blew in my ear, his stubble on my cheek. “Marina,” he purred. “I think we have an audience.”

Flooding with guilt, my eyes flew open. I expected to see stunned faces, disapproving glares. All around us, bodies swayed and danced... and only one man was staring.

Jacob stepped forward, shrinking the gap until his hands were on mine. His tug was gentle; I felt Kite slipping away. “May I have a turn?” he asked, a question that wasn't
really
a question.

My heart was too big, weighing me down and taking my breath. I still managed to speak; a single, frail word. “Yes.”

Jacob stole me away in a swift motion. The hard buttons on his vest dug into my skin, my chest plumped up from my dress, threatening to spill. Where Kite was wild, Jacob was precision and patience. He took his time, hands gliding like leaves from my sides to my shoulders, scooping up my face. He held me close, wrapped my hair and managed not to ruin the already dismantling coif.

“How are you doing?” he asked on my throat, pulling my head to the side so he could nuzzle me. My eyes rolled, and I made a dumb noise. He just chuckled, dragging nails down my spine and stealing my strength. “Sounds like you're having fun.”

Jacob ran a finger around my collar bone, then down between my breasts. My heart thumped, and my pussy pulsed in response. I was connected wherever he touched me, the sensation betraying my composure until my knees were shaking. I was sure my panties were soaking, and he hadn't even kissed me.

Spinning me in a slow circle, he spoke under his breath. The words ran beneath my skin. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Leaving would mean so many things. Abandoning the chase, admitting the man I wanted to kill wasn't going to show, that we still didn't know his name and I didn't know what to do next and...

And it meant giving in to Kite and Jacob.

Saying yes would implicate me in their agreement. I saw it in his eyes, those pure blue centers told me I was about to make a deal with the devil. He'd said as much to me, before. Choose them both, or I could have neither.

For someone like me who had been so amicable over the fact that these men could kill me if they just waited until the right moment... the idea of giving in to their 'rule' was leaving my head in tatters. Did they really want me? Both of them?

What about me, what the hell did I want?

Looking up, forgetting how to blink or breathe or think, I let my tongue make the sounds that would set me on a path I'd never imagined. “Yes. I want to get out of here.”

Jacob swept me up, and as Kite appeared at my side, they ushered me out of the dance room.

Amazingly, I managed to gather my coat and reach the car with them before my brain caught up to what I'd said. The prickles of fear began, settling into my flesh as the valet pulled the car up. The red-vested man handed Kite the keys. The hitman turned, shoving them into Jacob's hands and shoving
me
into the backseat. “You drive,” he said.

Sitting up, I caught the valet staring through the window. Kite replaced him, entering and shutting the door. He didn't give Jacob a choice in the matter, and not me, either. I managed to get out a small sound before the copper-haired man coiled against me, pushing me into the seat and nibbling my lower lip.

“Kite,” I stammered, not knowing if I should have put my hands on his broad shoulders or pushed him away. I looked sideways, eyeing Jacob when he drove the car out of the lot. “Wait, we can't—”

“I couldn't handle it any longer,” he growled. The glass was cool on the back of my skull. He tangled his hand in my hair, tearing the design out, so much more rough than Jacob. “The way you felt against me when we were dancing, I just... fuck.” Black eyes glinted, fixing on me before he forced my lids to squeeze shut. His intensity was volatile, his tongue gliding over mine, lips firm and lush.

Here it was. Everything they had claimed. I was in a pocket of existence, kissing one man while the other took us home. Jacob was quiet, I couldn't shake the idea that this was bothering him. How would I know? I couldn't see into their sinful minds, what if they'd been lying?

They claimed they could survive sharing me.

I wasn't sure I could.

Kite was having a field day. He ran a hand down my side, hiked my dress up. I squeaked, went to pull the red fabric down. Kite would have none of it. Gripping my wrists, he held them against the window over my head. His motion to yank the clothing back up was halted, eyes frozen on me. “Fuck,” he breathed huskily. “You look amazing. Bound like this, that flash of nerves and the way you're still wiggling with desire...” Reaching down, he brushed his fingertips over my breasts. Like earlier, my nipples were throbbing, standing at attention. “I love how responsive you are. It kills me.”