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

I was getting excited.

My fingers squeezed a fraction tighter; she went ramrod straight, noticing. Was my deadly vibe coming off of me so thickly? “If you knew all along that we—that I—would plan to kill you, why would you ever do the things that you do?” I bent closer, unable to see my own eyes but knowing they were rumbling like a salted sea. “Why be alone with us, why move out of your apartment, why give us so many chances to murder you in your sleep or as you stand here—right here—inside my kitchen? Why aren't you
afraid?
”

Marina didn't move. She was a living statue, crafted by someone who had wanted to see what wicked tantalization would be like if it were given form. When she spoke, the vein on her neck thrummed. “I'm not afraid, because nothing you can do can hurt me.” Her tongue glided over her bottom lip. “I've already lost everything. I don't have a thing left to care about, except getting revenge. Working with you two is all I can do. Trust and fear... they don't even cross my mind.” And then she laughed—and it was the harshest of sounds. “You're holding a ghost, Jacob.”

She thought she was already dead. What an idea. My guts twisted, her words drilling in. Again, my hunger for this girl grew. She wasn't scared? Truly?
She thinks she's a god damn ghost.
My hands coiled in her sweater until I saw her mouth twitch. “If you were a ghost,” I said flatly, “I couldn't do this.”

In my grip, Marina was solid and warm. She wasn't a corpse yet, and I loathed that she believed it. Hunching low, I pulled her to me and captured her lips. I wasn't gentle, the kiss was meant to show her my point. Ghosts don't feel, ghosts don't whimper, and ghosts don't fucking
bleed
. She was breaking down my barriers—wrecking my mental walls that preferred not to curse mentally or out loud.

Marina wasn't a ghost, she was a drug.

The toilet paper bounced off the floor. Seconds later, she scratched at my wrists, broke away from me. I let her go, though it was with wretched regret. “What—what the hell?” she gasped, touching her mouth. Her fingertips came away, stained red. In her wide eyes, lightning danced with black clouds. “Jacob, you... this isn't...”

Breathing in loudly, I stood tall. “You don't need to believe in me. You don't need to trust me. But if you really only care about revenge, let me say this.” Scooping up her wrists, I held her in place. “You're no ghost. If you think you're invincible, untouchable, you're going to make a fatal mistake. And then you will become an actual phantom. For the sake of your goal, remember that.”

Marina was stiff, cement in her bones. Gingerly, she linked her fingers with mine. Then, she pulled them away. “You shouldn't have kissed me.”

Rubbing my tongue over my own lips, my smirk was a serrated blade. “No. I shouldn't have stopped.”

Jerking backwards, she looked ready to run. I hadn't moved, everything had happened within inches of where I'd been casually leaning. Her attention shot down to the toilet paper, then back to me. “I... I need to leave.”

Tilting my head, I slid my foot under the bathroom product. In a gentle, easy flip, I kicked it up and caught it. Narrowing my eyes, I offered it to her. I hadn't stopped smiling—I couldn't, not with her anxiety on my taste-buds. “Then I guess I'll be seeing you, Marina.”

She hesitated, like taking the toilet paper was a trap. Finally, she lifted her chin and grabbed it. “Thank you.” Her mouth opened, shut, and then she rounded me and headed for the exit. Looking back, Marina paused, gathering her words.

In the end, she said nothing.

With the crisp 'click' of the door fading, I pressed against the counter and stared at my ceiling. The air, the molecules, still vibrated like she was nearby. Grazing my lips, I looked at my fingertips and recalled the salt of her blood.

Yes. Marina was a drug.

My drug.

And I wanted to overdose on her.

****

I
called Kite twice before he answered. I needed him to meet me at the Corner Velvet, to make sure he could watch the place while I went off to explore my leads. Anabelle could effectively run it, but Kite needed to be seen in public, behaving normally. Plus, I preferred he sign for deliveries, and we had one coming tomorrow morning.

“Sure man,” he said when I got through. “I can do it. Mind if I meet you there so you can show me where the paperwork is for the shipment?”

I came close to scowling. He should
know
this stuff. “Yeah. I can do that.” This wasn't a bad plan. It meant I could bring my bag of spare clothes and change at the bar, which was less suspicious than leaving the apartment in a disguise. I couldn't take my car, though. It'd be noticed if it was left behind the bar too long. Anabelle might ask questions. “Actually,” I said before he hung up. “New plan. Let's go together, you drive.”

He met me in the garage, his attention going briefly to my bag. “Planning a camp-out?” he teased.

Dropping the bag in the backseat, I climbed into the car. “It might be a few days. I don't know yet.”

“It makes me nervous that you don't know.” Revving the engine, he guided us out of the underground. It was bright out, the sun happy to shine and blind us. “And I hate that you're going alone.”

“It's safer alone.”

“It's safer with the two of us,” he grumbled.

Sighing, I turned up the radio. “Stop worrying. Ponder more on how you'll entertain Marina on your own.” The music that piped through the speakers was classical. It made me think about this morning. Quickly, I changed the channel. “What was she doing when you left?”

He tossed a look at me. “I don't know. Sleeping, I guess.”

I doubted that was true. “You didn't talk to her?”

Shrugging violently, Kite turned the car down the street. “No. Why does it matter?”

“It doesn't,” I agreed. “Except that you're acting strange.” Slowly, my eyebrows crinkled over my nose. “She was acting weird this morning, too.”

He slammed on the breaks, changing lanes abruptly. Someone honked behind us. “What?” he blurted, struggling to stare at me and also watch the road. “She came up to see you this morning?”

“Careful,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Don't drive like an idiot. Yes, she came up because you apparently forgot to buy toilet paper.”

He was silent for a single heartbeat. “And then what happened?”

My mouth was a neutral line. “You tell me. What happened between you two that's gotten you both so uneasy?”

Kite took a slow breath. Pulling into the alley, he parked behind the Corner Velvet. The keys twisted, engine dying and the last of the white noise going with it. For a while, my best friend did nothing but sit there, staring at his hands.

The back of his head thumped against the seat. His eyes were shut. “Shit. Jacob, her and I fucked last night.”

A tiny, tiny sliver of ice inched into my belly. Pressing two fingers to the bridge of my nose, I started to laugh. It was a soft, gritty sound.

Kite rolled his head, cheek on the cushion as he watched me. “It's not that funny.”

“No,” I agreed. “But when I tell you what happened this morning, you might see the humor.” He sat up, eyes searching mine for the answer before I even let it roll off of my tongue. A tongue that still tasted like her. “Marina and I, we kissed.”

Lifting his head, Kite looked down his nose at me. “You kissed her, or she kissed you?”

“I kissed her, if you want specifics. Did
you
fuck her, or did
she
fuck you?”

Shaking his head rapidly, Kite grabbed the wheel and squeezed. “There's a question. I think it was both.”

My smile was brittle. “Interesting. So now what?”

“What the fuck do you mean, now what?” Kite was fidgeting, unable to decide if he wanted to hit something or freeze in place. I knew the feeling. “You're telling me you want her, right? Unless you kissed her because you were curious if she'd have a god damn heart attack and drop dead.”

Remembering the softness of her mouth, how it yielded to my roughness, I shivered. “No. I kissed her because I felt like it. Yes, Kite, I want her. I also don't plan to fight with you over her.” Pointedly, I faced him in the car. “You understand what I'm saying.”

He was flicking his stare from my face, to his fists. Never had two people in this shallow world been so connected, so in sync. Kite and I were beyond friends. Our bond was stronger than law or logic. We did everything for each other, with each other.

We always had.

“She doesn't change the rules,” he breathed. Setting his jaw, he offered his hand to me. It stayed in the air, waiting for mine. “I want her. You want her. That means we both get to have Marina...”

“Or neither of us does.” Clasping his palm, I crushed it tight. The tendons in my forearms flexed with the briskness of the handshake. It was a reminder, for us both, of who we were and why we were here. How we had arrived at this place, crawled up from the shit and dust and made our lives something new. Something worth owning.

Kite and I, we'd seen things—done things—that no one knew of. Just us, a pair of wretched creatures who would kill to live and murder to succeed. We were not good people. We were never under the illusion that we were.

This moment shot home the memory of our first oath.
The oath.
How we had become Blood Brothers, and our inability to end that. Our agreement and our rules were here to protect us both.

Greed led to tragedy and betrayal.

“We share her,” I said flatly.

“We share her.” Kite's eyes were brooding, but they flashed when he smiled. “It wouldn't be the first time.”

Chuckling, I let him go and leaned away. “No. I guess it wouldn't.” Thinking of the other women who had agreed to our rule, it brought a film of distaste. Not because I hadn't enjoyed them, no. It just reminded me of how they'd all failed. For so many reasons, there'd never been a woman who could keep up with us. The ones that held our attention, that clung to us and struggled to maintain our lust, inevitably crumbled.

No one had ever handled us both.

Marina wouldn't be the first... and knowing that sobered me.

That girl with her tempting hips and perceptive eyes, she had no clue what we had in store for her. Beyond the reality of our plan to throw her to the wolves—or the Jackals—and free us from the risk she represented. Beyond all of the grimness. What waited for Marina would be too much for her.

In more ways than one, I felt in my heart that we would destroy her.

And I didn't care.

If it meant I got to taste her again...

I didn't care at all.

Marina

––––––––

T
hree days had passed since he had kissed me.

Three fucking days.

Yes, I'd been counting.

Normally this is where you're supposed to wax poetically about the man in your life. Stare in the mirror and into your own eyes. Phrases should pop up like, 'oh, he's so lovely!' Or perhaps, 'I wonder what our kids would look like?'

Peeling back my lower lip, I stared at where Jacob had bitten me and wondered...

Will next time be worse?

The scab had healed already. He'd done just enough damage to make me bleed. Enough to make me question where in my life my sanity had taken a dive off of a cliff.

Oh. Right.

I guess watching your loved ones being murdered could break something.

Splashing water on my face, I gripped the sink and looked closer at the red ribbons in my eyes. Sleep had been elusive. Jacob wasn't entirely responsible for that part. After all, while it had been three days since we'd kissed—it hadn't been much more since Kite.

Yes, correct. In less than twelve hours of each other, two different men—two extremely
dangerous
men—had both buried their mouths on mine. Was this how life worked? You go without kissing someone for years and then, boom, fate throws all of your missed opportunities at you at once?

The mirror was cool on my forehead. Water dripped from my cheek, splattered in the drain. This whole situation was fucked. I needed to focus. The point of being around Jacob and Kite, my hired hitmen, was to plot vengeance. They were supposed to teach me how to reach my target, and then how to murder him. Boom. Simple.

Why did they have to screw everything up?

Standing, I ran fingers through my thick hair, clasped the side of my own neck. I could see no reason why one of these guys, never mind both, would want anything to do with me. Had I missed the memo? Were insane girls who were super interested in bloody vengeance and brutality suddenly a
thing?

Tapping my cheeks, I sighed. My anxiety would vanish if I could just talk to
one
of them about how I was feeling. Granted, I didn't know how I felt—not exactly. If I said to them, 'hey, this is a business deal. I don't have the luxury of mucking it up with intimacy,' would I prefer they agree with me? Or would that dig a knife in my guts, having their intense interests wither away just because I requested it?

Talking about it was risky, in its own way. But it had to be done. This thick tension was a recipe for disaster, and our fucked up interactions already had enough pitfalls.

Kite had done his best to avoid me, which was astounding since we
lived
together. He kept slipping off to his bar, the Corner Velvet. Or going for runs at odd hours. Or just sitting there, awkwardly, doing that thing where he'd stare at me as if I couldn't tell he was doing it—only to glance away the instant I turned.

And Jacob?

Three days. Literally, three days since he'd kissed me, and since I'd last seen him. Kite had confirmed, in our brief chats, that Jacob was out looking for information. That had thrilled me. It meant I was getting closer to my ultimate purpose.

Kite didn't seem worried about where or what Jacob was doing. But I suspected that, like me, he was uneasy and wasn't showing it. It was taking a long time, and I didn't get why Jacob needed to handle this like he was. Couldn't he explore at night and then return home the rest of the time?

I didn't know what he was doing, but he had to be okay if Kite was able to strut around without grabbing his gun and going on a rampage for the guy.