Chapter Five
When Katarina walked into the condo and saw Marcus sitting silently at the marble dining room table, his fingers steepled, she knew it was on.
She was ready for this op.
Finally, she was going to make a difference.
She was going to take her power back.
Red Wolf was going down and Wellington Ashley was going to die an ugly death.
She’d saved herself—or she would.
Prince Charming could burn in hell because she was no damsel, she was the dragon.
“When?” she asked.
“Tonight. I’ll take you by D’s.” He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but the hard set to his jaw kept the words hidden.
She knew what he was going to say, he didn’t even have to say it. Her answer was the same. Anything she had to do to make this happen. Katarina understood that he was concerned about her, but what she didn’t understand was why he wasn’t willing to sacrifice anything to bring down Red Wolf, too.
After everything that had happened to them both, to their team.
Katarina walked over behind his char and put her hand on his shoulder.
“We’ve got this, Tin.” She used his Elite Ghosts handle to remind him who and what they both were. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”
His big hand closed over hers, and he turned his face into her palm.
He’d never done this before, this type of physicality simply for the sake of touching her. It hurt at first, because everything did. But as the moment stretched on, there was no pain. In fact, she could almost say she liked it.
She liked that he turned to her for comfort, for strength. That even though he wanted to protect her, it wasn’t because he thought she was weak. If he thought she was weak, he wouldn’t turn to her like this. For her strength, for her assurance to shore him up.
Her fingers relaxed against his face and she grazed her thumb over the arch of his cheek—the day’s growth was a little rough against her skin and she liked how it felt.
He pulled her around to his lap, slowly, gently.
She knew he was giving her time to pull away, to choose to let him touch her. Katarina also knew it wasn’t sexual. It was comfort, it was reassurance.
And she needed it too.
She needed to know he was with her, that he was all in just like her.
So she sank down into his lap, his strong arms cocooning her in his warmth, his scent, and his seemingly indefatigable strength. He closed his eyes and rested his head so his breath was warm on her neck.
Katarina stroked her hand down the wide expanse of his back and tried not to cry.
She hadn’t been touched like this in years. Touch, just for the sake of touch. For intimacy. For the bond between them.
She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t in pain, and finally, something besides completing the mission felt good.
They stayed like that, in silence, just holding each other for the longest time. Only it changed something for Katarina. His soft breath against her neck where once it had been soothing became something else.
Something foreign and strange that she didn’t know her body was still capable of.
It was warm and began in the pit of her stomach, spiraling outward in concentric circles of heat. This feeling was a craving, a wanting, a… desire.
She was suddenly very aware of his hands, the heat of them burning through her new dress. She wondered what it would be like to have those hands moving over her body again, not just slicked with rose oil working her back, but everywhere.
A sharp stab of desire pierced her and her breath caught in her throat.
Marcus pulled back, the deep pools of his dark eyes filled with concern. “What? Does something hurt?”
Christ, everything hurt, but in a new way. A good way. Katarina met his eyes and reached up a tentative, shaking hand to his cheek. She touched him again as she had before, her thumb dragging slowly across his cheek.
He allowed the caress, held himself absolutely still as if she were some kind of delicate butterfly drying out her wings on his arm.
Perhaps she was, and that’s what this desire was—wings. They could fly together. She hadn’t been ready before, not for years. While she used her body in her work, she’d had sex, but it had never been anything more than a tool and it had never brought her anything but pain.
This was all so new to her, this feeling good. She knew it was possible, but she’d never experienced it.
She moved her fingers to his full lips, they were so soft, but firm. Katarina needed to know if kissing him would be as earth shattering as these feeling he wrought in her. Part of her hoped that it wouldn’t be. That kissing him would be the end of a badly inspired experiment and everything would go back to what was familiar, comfortable.
There was another part of her though that hoped so hard that the hope became a wound. She hoped it would be everything she imagined it could be, that there would be stars, and symphonies and that fairytales were real.
Katarina hated that part of herself. Hated that even after all the pain, the horror, the darkness, that it still lived and breathed. That need wasn’t a timid and mewling thing, but a ravenous beast hungry for the light.
She dipped her head ever so slightly and brushed her lips against his.
His hands dropped, curled into fists at his sides. Probably to keep from touching her, from pushing her farther than she wanted to go.
Marcus Grant was such a good man. He was probably the reason that hope was still a raw wound, that its fire still burned inside of her. It would be easy to pretend good men didn’t exist, if she didn’t know this one so well.
Katarina touched her lips to his again, this time with more intensity and he responded, moving his mouth against hers, tasting her.
He tasted of cinnamon Altoids and something she couldn’t name, but found she liked very much.
He liked kissing her, too. He was hard and for the first time in a long time, she wanted to get closer, not run away.
So she did. She turned so she straddled him and drew his hands up to her waist. “Touch me,” she whispered against his mouth.
He pulled back. “Is this really what you want or did I become part of the op?”
The question was like a slap to the face. “Is that what you think of me?”
“I know you’ve told me time and again that you’ll do anything to make this op happen. I know you’re a good operative. I know you’re an expert manipulator. You have to be to be good at your job. I was making noise, the squeaky wheel so to speak.”
“Are you kidding me?” Everything she felt in the moment had been so monumental, so new, so…tender. Fragile. He’d shattered it like so much glass. “I guess I was the only one who felt that.”
“Don’t act indignant now. Come on. You know this is part of what we do.” He dropped his hands. “You know I want you, Katarina. And you used it against me to get me on board. I’m not mad. I get it.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because you didn’t answer my question.”
“I—” She realized she hadn’t. The part of her that had been ready for the darkness, ready to give up, it wanted to hide from him. From this. But the part that hoped anchored her in place. She leaned her forehead against his. “Don’t you understand how hard it was for me to bend? To take the initiative to close that space between us? To be here right now tearing myself open for you again?”
“If you feel this way, then you’ll feel it when the mission is over.”
She felt like she’d been slapped. He was right, of course. She swallowed hard.
“Look, Katarina. For the mission, for you, and for what I can handle, this has to wait.”
“Fine.” She nodded and suddenly, she was all Nickel again. “What time do I need to be ready?”
He tossed her a couple take out menus. “Order us some dinner, I’ll check in with Titanium, and we’ll leave about seven.”
Just like that, it was as if the moment between them never happened.
The time passed quickly and after a silent dinner, they were in the car on their way over to Big D’s.
“Whatever you hear, let me do the talking. You’re not a Marine now. You’re merchandise and you know your place.”
She wanted to punch him, but she inhaled deeply. “I know my role.” Nickel pursed her lips. “And I’ll be a Marine even after there’s no breath left in my body.”
He snorted. “Yeah, me too. But you know what I mean.”
“We’ve done this before.”
“Not like this.”
“You keep saying that. This isn’t the monster under my bed. I can do this.” Maybe it was. Maybe she was just faking it until she made it. She hated that he made her question herself.
“Maybe it’s not the monster under your bed, but under mine. You keep talking about this like it’s all about you. It’s about me, too, Nickel.”
She actually hadn’t thought about that. She felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. This gang used to be his family and this mission was asking a lot of him. Both to go back to the people who’d almost killed him, the people he’d thought were his ride or die, and to earn their trust again and lie.
But that too was just part of the fucking op.
“I get that. I do.” She nodded.
“But you think I’m a pussy and should just suck it up because The Mission.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you’re thinking.”
“No. Not that either. Well, maybe a little bit.” She grinned. “It’s what I have to do.”
“Only because you choose to,” he tossed back.
“And so do you. You don’t have to be here.”
“Yeah, you’re right. But I choose to remember that I’m human too. You’re just a machine.”
Nickel’s pride spiked. That’s exactly what she was. An effective machine. But the woman inside, Katarina, she wasn’t so proud. She wanted him to know that she felt things so much more intensely and deeply than he could ever know.
This wasn’t time or the place for that. Katarina needed to pipe the fuck down. Nickel was driving this bitch now.
She noticed that as soon as they turned on to this new street, it was like night and day. The houses had gone from upscale to old and tired. Many lawns were unkempt, cars were either vintage boats like Caddys, and Monte Carlos, or brand new. They all had rims so shiny she could see her face in them.
There was zero police presence—which suited their purposes just fine.
They stopped in front of a house that looked like it once belonged to someone’s grandmother. It was whitewashed brick with red shutters (of course they were) and a Chief’s flag hung almost like a shade over the porch. The lawn was neatly trimmed, there was a brand new gunmetal Mercedes G-Class in the driveway.
Tin pulled in behind the Mercedes and turned off the car. Even with the consternation on his face, she had to admit he didn’t look like he belonged here. In a place that was once his turf, he stuck out like a sore thumb. She wondered why he’d gone for the suit instead of street clothes.
She couldn’t deny it looked good on him. He looked powerful, like a shark toying with his prey. Maybe it was true that a good suit really was just as good as a suit of armor.
He opened the door for her and she stepped out of the car and followed him to the door where he knocked hard.
When it opened a tall, thin man stood there. Jeans were CK, but they were sagging. A red bandana hung out of the pocket. “Man, why you bangin’ like the police?”
He said “police” like it was two words.
Marcus suddenly grinned. “Because it bugs the shit out of you, Pook.”
“Aww, man. Good to see you.” He hugged Marcus and slapped him on the back.
Marcus returned the embrace and they were led inside.
Katarina kept quiet and used that time to take in her surroundings and everyone there. From the scent of patchouli incense they used to try to cover the smell of the weed, to the pet fresh on the carpet, and the expensive men’s cologne and aftershave.
No women lived in the house; at least not any that had any kind of input. There was a big screen plasma, 65 inches on one wall, leather theater style recliners, and various firearms out on the tables. From a .38, to a 9mm, to a .40 Rutger.
The living room opened up into a kitchen that wasn’t used for cooking food. The large dining table had three scales that sat like thrones amongst various baggies, and paraphernalia.
“Big D, Tre, and a few of the boys are waiting for you in the back.” Pook eyed her up and down. “Damn. I like what you got.”
She forced a smile, but didn’t say anything.
“Yes, indeedy, I do.” He licked his lips. “Hope I get to security check that ass.” He swatted her ass to punctuate the sentiment.
Katarina had fantasies about knocking all of his teeth down his throat so he shit them like Chiclets.
Tin didn’t wait for her, didn’t turn to check on her, didn’t do anything but head toward the back of the house and expected her to follow. It was the role, but there was something off about him now. Something distant.
Jesus fucking butterscotch Christ, but she had to get her head in the game and off of Tin. He was doing his job. Why wasn’t she doing hers?
The door to a bedroom opened, and panic clutched her throat. She forced it down like bile and kept the smile on her face. She knew what she’d signed up for.
“So, you got merchandise you want to move to get inside Yukodvich,” a large man said as soon as they entered the room. “Who are you working for?”
Tin looked bored. “He wants to remain anonymous. What do you care what the Russians, do?”
“You’re not DEA or CIA?”
“D, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“We did some checking. Friends at the state department. You supposed to be dead,” the guy he called D said.
“Of course I am.” Tin didn’t miss a beat. “You think I wanted to be a Marine? Fuck that, man. I saw my chance and I got out. I made some good connections working recon. I’m playing the game, just like you.”
“It seems to be treating you well.” D nodded. “I don’t know that I buy it.”
“What the fuck ever. It’s your loss.”
“It’s a lot of money,” one of the other guys said.
“Tre, my employer wants what he wants. He’ll get it from you, or from someone else.”
“Say we just drop a dime to Fedir Yukodvich. Then what?” D asked.
Katarina saw her chance and spoke. “Skol'ko volka ne kormi, on vse ravno v les smotrit.” The wolf being fed enough, nevertheless, is looking into the woods.
“What the fuck does that mean?” D asked.
“It means that you have to look out for your own interests and dropping knowledge on Yukodvich isn’t doing that,” Katarina offered.
D looked back and forth between them for a long moment. “Then let’s see this prime piece of ass that you’re going to pay me for.”
It grated on her, made her feel worthless and dirty, turned her stomach, but she stepped forward for his inspection.
“Take off your dress,” he commanded.
She met his eyes. “I can’t reach my zipper.”
“Tre.” He nodded at one of the other men and he stepped forward and drew the zipper on the back of her dress all the way down. “Bra and panties too.”
She could feel Tin’s rage and somehow, it soothed her. Made her feel safe and if that wasn’t the most fucked up thing ever, she didn’t know what was.
Katarina lifted her chin and did as D demanded, stripping naked in front of all of them.
She was confident in her body. She had the perfect hourglass figure with firm, but heavy breasts, round hips, and a high and tight ass. The long lines of her legs were toned and shapely. Her skin was smooth, unblemished, except for the scars on her back, and her long hair covered those. Katarina knew she was beautiful—her body was a weapon, after all.
Tin’s eyes made her flesh burn, but only until she remembered where they were and what they were doing. Only until suddenly, this moment, it made him one of them. Men who wanted her for only one thing, who would take what they wanted, whether she consented or not. Men to be used to further her own ends—the mission.
She swallowed hard as if that could push down those feelings. That wasn’t Tin. She offered him anything he could’ve wanted from her earlier in the condo, and he’d said no. He said if you still feel this way… Shit. He knew her better than she knew herself.
He knew she’d have these feelings. He knew she’d hate him for this just a little bit, even though it’s what she signed up for, demanded they do.
“Say it out loud,” D demanded.
“Say what?” Marcus asked him.
“That you ain’t a cop and don’t work for no government agency.”
Marcus snorted. “You know that’s bullshit, right? If I was a cop or CIA, DEA, FBI or whoever, I could say that from now until shit sticks to the moon and tastes like Tre’s mama’s fried chicken and it wouldn’t mean a goddamn thing.”
“So why ain’t you say it?” Pook drew a gun and held it to Marcus’s temple.
It took everything in her not to wrap her legs around his neck and snap it. She was just as deadly.
“I’m not a fucking cop,” Katarina said.
“We know you ain’t, bitch.” Tre slapped her face lightly. Enough so she’d know who was in charge.
She silently added him to her list of motherfuckers that were going to die, even if he had been Marcus’s best friend.
“I’m not a cop, D. I’m not working for the government.” Marcus met the man’s gaze straight on, didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Even submitting to his questioning, Marcus was still like an alpha wolf encroaching on another’s territory.
Even with the gun to his head.
“Yeah, a’ight. But now we going to security check this ho. And you.”
“The hell you say,” Marcus replied, his voice low and calm, but with the promise of violence.
“Nah, dog.” D laughed. “Not like with the hos. You going to security check her.”
Katarina realized what he meant. To prove that they didn’t have any ulterior motives, to prove they weren’t any sort of police, they wanted him to fuck her. While they watched.
At least it wasn’t one of them. Although, seeing the expression on Marcus’s face, maybe that would’ve been better. Maybe seeing another man fuck her, and seeing her “act” would make him see even more clearly why she was broken and that he couldn’t fix her.
Now, they’d both be broken.
She knew that while Marcus had been aroused by her, he didn’t want to do this. Something like this exact situation was what he’d tried to protect her from.
But if they didn’t do it, who knew if they’d get their in to the Yukodvich house party in Biscayne?
This was still their best shot.
It was time to Marine up.
“Fuck you, D.” Marcus replied conversationally. “No.”
Tre shoved the gun harder against his temple. “No one’s asking. You do it, or we’ll kill you both.”
“I said,” Marcus turned so the barrel of the gun was flush with his forehead and he stared Tre down anyway, “No.”
He was going to hate her after this.
And she knew she’d hate him.
It was like the universe or God, or whoever the fuck was up there playing mean boy with a magnifying glass and an anthill had heard her declaration; that she’d do anything, sacrifice anything, to bring down Red Wolf.
He’d said “Done!” Now, here she was and the only relationship she had with another human being that meant shit to her had been spread out on the altar and she had to slit its throat.
Seeing the gun to Marcus’s head, even if she didn’t want to give him up, they’d come too far to back out even if she’d wanted to.
With her heart breaking, and all of her walls erecting themselves like a cage around that which hurt, that which bled from a wound that wouldn’t heal, she reached for him.