In Too Deep: A Romantic Suspense Novel (43 page)

I pushed back, stroking my ass up and down Mark's cock as my own desires took over. As I did, I marveled at how perfect our position was. My breasts dragged against the strong muscles of his chest, while at the bottom of each filling thrust my clit ground against the flat muscle below his belly button. I was filled, I was taken, and I was safe all at the same time.

The only thing that our position wouldn't let us do was last. It just felt too damn good. My hips sped up, to be met by Mark's thrusts, and soon both of us were trembling on the edge of another orgasm. I looked up into Mark's eyes and nodded, pushing myself back and squeezing down. I saw his eyes roll up in his head and I knew he was ready. I was quick to follow, reducing me to a trembling, teary mass on the rug. Mark's arms held me tight through my convulsions, his body never pushing me away or pulling me too tightly against him. Finally, my convulsions passed, and we lay against each other until I started to shiver. "What's wrong?" Mark asked.

"I'm cold," I told him. "Let's get back in the bath."

T
he next day
, we started to pour over the data that Mark had stolen. "I think we've got a lot here," Mark said as he skimmed the file headers. "I recognize a lot of these businesses, they're ones that the Confederation used to launder their money."

"That's a lot of businesses," I said as we looked at the long list of file folders. Even on the huge thirty inch monitor we were plugged into, the list of names filled the screen. "How are we going to get through them all?"

“We probably won't need to," Mark said. "If we take down random ones, it'll put pressure on the others. Since I know quite a few of them myself, I was actually thinking of saving some of those for last. Let Sal Giordano and the rest of the Confederation keep guessing. Also, we don't have to take down these companies. We can just monitor them, get the dirt on them, and then turn them over to the Feds. Even if the FBI is pretty incompetent, they have their uses."

"You don't like the FBI, I take it."

Mark chuckled. "Considering the rings I ran around them for years? Nah. But I give the FBI credit on one thing. Once they know where to apply pressure, they are like millstones, they grind very very fine. We just have to make sure that we're not in their path when they let loose their juggernaut."

"Can you do it?" I asked. Mark grinned and nodded.

"Of course. With this amount of data, it's not a matter of if the FBI will get involved, but when."

Our conversation was interrupted as Tabby Williams buzzed for entrance. We were on the fourth floor of the Smiley Headquarters, far enough away from the noise and music of the gym on the first floor that we could work uninterrupted. After buzzing her in, Mark shut down the files we were looking at and went back to his normal desktop. Tabby may have known our real identities, but there was no reason to put her at risk by letting her in on more secrets than she already knew. "Hey you guys."

I could tell as soon as she came in the door that something was different with her. Tabby was always bubbly, but this was almost perky. "Hey Tabby. What's up?"

"Oh, just wanted to drop off some more files for your perusal," Tabby said, practically skipping across the floor. "How's life in Mount Zion?"

"Good," Mark replied, turning towards her. "You seem rather chipper this morning. Get some extra caffeine in your latte or something?"

"I just had a really good night last night, that's all," Tabby said, starting to blush. I looked at Mark, who nodded.

"What was his name?" Mark asked with a smile. "And just how good a night was it?"

"Marcus Smiley!" Tabby said in mock outrage. I was glad that Tabby knew Mark more under his assumed alias than as Mark Snow, because you could tell she was being flippant and not really thinking. "I will let you know, Sir, that despite all appearances, I am a very hard to please woman. In fact, I'm just the sort to take home to your mother for Sunday dinner."

"Uh-huh. So is he or she cute?"

Tabby rolled her eyes and nodded. "Yes, HE is very cute. But more than that, he was a total gentleman the whole time. In fact, we only kissed once, when he walked me to the door of my apartment."

I was surprised. Tabby was no slut, but she rarely played hard to get like this. "Really? And you're seeing him again?"

Tabby smiled and started giggling. "Tonight, in fact."

I was flabbergasted. "Whoa, two dates in two nights with the same guy? He must be a good one."

"He is. Listen, I'd love to tell the two of you all about it, but I just barely had time to drop these files off before getting to the office. I have a meeting in thirty minutes that I can't be late for."

"Okay. Well, give me a call tomorrow or something, we can talk all about it," I said, picking up the inch thick pile of file folders. "And when do you need these back?"

"I don't," she replied, heading for the elevator. "Those are your copies now. See you!"

As quickly as she arrived, Tabby was gone, the elevator taking her down stairs. I turned to Mark, who had a careful look on his face. "What is it?"

"Have you ever known anyone interested in Tabby who was willing to settle for just a kiss at her front door at the end of a good date?"

"No, but that doesn't mean it can't happen," I said. "Maybe Tabby has finally run into a guy who will treat her with respect and admiration. Trust me, when that happens, it feels great for a woman."

I saw Mark blush, and he turned back to his computer without a reply. "Okay, well, could you start taking a look at the businesses while I work my way through the files from last night?"

"Okay," I said, starting with the top folder on the pile. The first sort was easy, really. While we had given Tabby very specific ideas on companies that we wanted to look at in terms of income, potential for growth and other hard data, there were factors that we hadn't told her.

For example, one of our rules was that we didn't invest over a hundred thousand dollars unless the company was either offering very close to a majority stake, or that the company was already so wealthy that the stake offered was under ten percent. The first group of companies were true angel investments, meant to provide people with the ability to achieve their dream. They were relatively high risk, but still we did it to help people. The other group were companies that we were assured to get our money back, and we used them for growth of our total portfolio. Companies who were in neither group were eliminated because they either didn't need us, or were high enough risk that it wasn't a good investment for the amount of potential return.

That rule alone eliminated roughly a third of the pile. The second pass was more careful, as I geographically mapped each of the potential investments. Mark wanted Smiley companies all over the city, but especially in the areas that were being taken advantage of by either the Confederation or Owen Lynch's organization. The reason was simple, to give the neighborhoods that were being exploited by these groups something to rally around. After the second pass, which took close to two hours, I was left with four potential businesses. I set them aside for a final pass through with Mark after he was done and stretched. "How're you looking over there?"

"There's hundreds of companies here. I'm going to need to set up a database program to help us classify them and sort them according to a bunch of different factors. Just getting them all plotted on a map is going to take a long damn time," Mark said, rubbing his tired eyes. "Tell me you at least have something positive over there."

"Four potentials," I said, "but nothing that can't wait until after lunch. Besides, you still have your other investments to look after and everything. You can't be Marcus Smiley all the time, my love."

Mark hummed his assent and stretched, his back popping in three places. He walked away from his desk, a slight limp in his leg from where he had been shot. I knew he had to be tired, he only showed that limp when he was exhausted. "Come on," I said, making a decision, "let's get some lunch, come back, get our workouts in, and then go home. You're too blitzed to get anything else done."

"Okay," Mark said, sighing. "You're right, this was a lot easier when all I had to do was stay fit, cruise the markets, and do my other work. Not that I want to go back to that, no matter what."

A
fter a relaxing lunch
at a Chinese restaurant that we were funding in the middle of the Triad-controlled part of Chinatown, Sophie and I drove back to the warehouse that was our headquarters as well as the first floor being another one of our investments, one of the most advanced fitness facilities in the entire state. The owner, a former NCAA strength coach who got frustrated with the limitations of college politics, was a nice guy in his thirties who knew a lot about fitness. Between his knowledge, Sophie's training as a physician's assistant, and my own prior knowledge of the body's systems from my training, I doubt there was any place in the country that could give me a better place to do what I needed to do.

"Good afternoon Marcus!" the staff member on duty said as Sophie and I came through the door. I was on strict terms with the owner that I was not to be called
sir
or
Mr. Smiley
by anyone in the gym. I may have been thirty-five percent owner, but I was still just there to do a workout just like everyone else. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"Legs," Sophie answered for me. I inwardly winced, as I knew that Sophie's idea of a good leg workout usually left me feeling like my muscles were made of burning kerosene and my heart pounding somewhere between my throat and my eyeballs.

"Did I do something to upset you?" I asked as we headed towards the one nod I had to being the owner, an executive locker room that Sophie and I could use together. "I thought you felt good after last night."

"Oh, I did," Sophie replied with a twinkle in her eye. "In fact, the better you do during your workout today, the sooner you get to do that again."

During the course of my free-wheeling, scattergun approach to higher education after leaving high school, I took a course on basic human psychology online from Stanford. In it, we covered quite a few lessons talking about motivation, and I still remember from the videos that the professor was talking about the difference between internal and external motivation.

Internal motivation, as you can guess, comes from inside
, the professor had said,
while external motivation is imposed on us from an outside source. Both of these can be either positive or negative methods of motivation, but what psychologists have found is that for most people, in most circumstances, internal motivation is greater than external motivation. Basically, the fire that burns inside of us will often far outstrip anything that is imposed on us from outside.

Of course, I thought as I cinched my back support belt tight for my last set of squats, when internal and external motivational factors worked together, the results were damn near nuclear. That was what that day felt like. Sure, I knew Sophie's promise for more sex was just a silly tease, but it worked, even though I knew exactly what she was doing. She was pushing me to get my leg back in tip-top shape after I’d been shot. I was almost there, but not quite.

I nodded and positioned myself under the bar. The deep criss-cross pattern of knurling cut into the bar bit into the skin in between my shoulder blades even with the t-shirt I was wearing, a welcome pain. I knew the bar wouldn't slip and screw me up. Taking a final deep breath, I squared my feet and stood, clearing the bar from the hooks. I had worked this pattern over and over, three steps back, the first for distance, then adjusting my feet to exactly where I needed them to be. My back and shoulder muscles trembled with tension of supporting the bar. Sophie watched me with a careful eye. She would call me on my downs and ups. "Down!"

The pressure in my head increased with every inch that I descended. I knew my face was almost bright pink, and would only get worse as the set wore on. I focused on pushing my hips back, keeping the bar moving straight up and down, with as little forward and back motion as possible. Just as I felt like I was about to be crushed, I heard Sophie call. "Up!"

I pushed hard, about halfway between my heels and the balls of my feet, driving my head up as I accelerated. A deep grunt came through my clenched teeth as I pushed, and I knew why some very heavy squatters would wear mouthpieces to prevent dental damage. With a slight rattle, I reached the top of my squat, and I grinned as I took a deep breath. "Down!"

Sophie was relentless, giving me enough of a break in between heavy pushes to get another deep breath before commanding me down again. My leg where I'd been shot screamed in fire, and I knew Sophie would have to help me out of the car when we got home to Mount Zion. "Up!"

I pushed, my deep bellow of effort becoming an epic roar as I put everything into getting that bar two more inches up, and then the next two, and then the next. It felt like the squat took days, and dark spots danced before my eyes when I finally got up and could breathe again. Sophie leaned next to me, speaking quietly. "You can do one more. Don't think about the pain, or the weight, or anything else. Listen to my voice, and think about the fact that I love you."

She stepped back and resumed her studying stance. "Down!"

For me, the entire world became the narrow focus of my eyes in the mirror in front of me, and Sophie's voice in my ear. She kept up her command, repeating down in a calm, quiet voice that cooled the fire in my spine and legs. Even the pressure of the bar seemed to disappear as Sophie's voice switched from "Down," to "UP! PUSH!"

The fire in her command gave me the energy, that's all there was to it. My mind went blank as I pushed, and the next thing I knew, I was standing up, my entire body trembling. Sophie was there along with two other gym members, who helped me take the bar into the hooks. As soon as the bar rattled into the hooks, I pitched forward, stopped only by Sophie's arms around my chest. She guided me down onto my hands and knees, rubbing my back the whole time.