The farther out of the city they drove, the prettier it got. Pine trees, shorter shrub bushes…and green, even in these late fall months. The wind bashed against the car, a gale-force power that rattled the windows. And he knew outside their little climate-controlled vehicle, the air had taken a turn for the colder. But the life it stirred up was what drew him in. Birds flapping through the gusts, leaves blowing across the road.
He’d been a city boy most his life, but after hooking up with Hawk Elite, he’d learned to appreciate the smaller city and the slower pace. Maybe it had started before Hawk Elite. Heather’s biggest complaints while they were married involved where they lived, even when he’d had no choice at all.
I need the city, Mal, so I can find something to do. I’m dying in this place, and you don’t even care!
Malcolm rested his elbow on the door. He’d bought her anything she wanted. And when he’d been home, he thought they did okay—as okay as any couple.
But the activity level she insisted on started to grate, and he’d been more and more ready to escape with every deployment, every training session. He’d begun signing up to train for shit he would never really use—if he could get away with it. Hell, he’d have been an S1 desk jockey if it kept him alone. In an office. Doing paperwork.
He liked the lack of people. Nowadays, even Raleigh seemed too crowded to him.
“Don’t be so quiet over there. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Marie tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. She was in movement almost always, unless she was sleeping. She smiled at him. “Don’t be ornery. You could have said no.”
Begrudgingly, he nodded. “I know. I guess I was looking for a reason to take a break.” He eyed her, a slow gaze from her head to her toes and back up. “You’ll do.”
“You don’t scare me.”
Looking out the window again, he hummed a response, not surprised, wishing she was a little frightened…or wary enough to back away from him. He didn’t do relationships well. He didn’t do people well. It would be better if she had left him to go home to Raleigh.
But she wasn’t scared. That was part of the problem. She egged him on even when she thought he didn’t like her. And then still wanted to be around him. “Why do you even want me here?”
Marie mimicked his gaze, sending a slow glance to his lap and back up. “You’ll do.”
He bit his lip on the grin wanting to break on his face. “Okay. I deserve that.”
“You only act all rough.” She sniffed. “I know better. I’ve learned. After all these months, I better have learned something working with you, right?”
“Good point.”
“And you’re a decent fuck.”
“Now,” he admonished with a frown, “a great fuck.”
Her laugh rang out, sending his blood racing. He liked flirting with her, and smiled as he rested his head and closed his eyes. Long night, long day…
She’d been an easy companion as they worked together. She’d stayed out of the way, which was usually his biggest issue when working with others. They wanted to somehow learn what he did, as if they could possibly do what he did.
Marie had stayed back the entire time, but been more than willing to step up at a moment’s notice. It had been refreshing. Not everyone was so good at taking commands and following directions. And now he knew she was a good driver, too. Kept her hands steady on the wheel, even in the buffeting winds, and maintained a decent speed—not too slow, not too fast—which surprised him at first, but then he thought about how her parents had died in a car wreck.
When they bumped onto a dirt road, Malcolm opened his eyes and sat up straight.
He saw the ocean, but it looked more like blackened, cracked glass beneath smoky-gray skies above. Rocks jutted up from the coast; grand fucking monuments was what they were. “Jesus, it’s beautiful,” he whispered.
Turning south, she wound with the road parallel to the water until he couldn’t see the shore anymore, only the trees and brush. “We’re about thirty feet above sea level at the house,” she explained, pulling the car to a stop in front of a two-story cottage. “We’ve got a great view of the sunset out off the cliffs. There’s nothing better. I swear it.”
“You don’t have to,” Malcolm murmured as he opened the car door.
Wind cut through his light jacket but was surprisingly warm, warmer than the air had been in the city. He reached in the back for his duffel and messenger bag. He grabbed Marie’s as well and then carried them both to the front porch. But he didn’t go up, merely left them on the top step.
Glancing back at Marie, who watched him with a curious gaze, he let the seaside soak through his him. “Can I walk around?”
She nodded and walked toward him.
The somewhat deteriorated state of the stone foundation of the house had him making a mental note. The siding could use a paint job, but the roof looked new. As he approached the back porch, he found some of the floorboards replaced, but left unpainted, which he imagined in this climate meant the wood would be destroyed in a season, if it lasted all season without warping.
The sun stretched toward the horizon, not quite sitting on the water yet. Everything it touched glowed a funny orange. He took a deep breath of the sea air and closed his eyes, knew the moment she silently came up beside him, holding her breath. Wondering if he liked it?
It wasn’t the Taj Mahal, it was humble and maybe slightly in disrepair…
“So, this is home,” he said, looking at her and then holding her gaze. He hadn’t thought she would care what other people thought. “You’re lucky,” he added. It was enough to deflate the funk she’d gotten herself in.
“Marie?”
Malcolm turned to the older man who came out the back door and hobbled down the stone steps at the back of the house. Marie squeezed Malcolm’s elbow before she left his side and ran.
Her voice was lost in the wind, but the embrace was telling, and made Malcolm uncomfortable enough to find his way closer to the water. Another path led him away from the house, and he was surprised by how sandy the ground was. As he approached the shoreline, the rocks jutting from the ground grew out, separating into a sloping U. At the bottom of the U, a rail edged the cliff Marie had been talking about. Off to the right, an opening in the rail led to a stairwell down to the beach floor. He leaned over the railing and peered down the edge.
Thirty or so feet, like she’d said.
There was a calm pool of water between the rocks directly under him, but ten feet in either direction the water sprayed, ravaging the shore with its power. “Jesus. Look,” he muttered. “Fucking gorgeous.”
“Powerful, isn’t it?” She’d come up on him, the noise of the shore covering her approach. “My mom used to freak out if she caught me out here. Hell to pay and all that.”
“How old were you when they died?”
“Eight.”
He nodded. “And Uncle Bert? Did he care as much?”
She gave him a devilish grin. “No. I had free rein of the place, usually. I didn’t really discover until a little later. After the shock of losing my parents…wore off.” She hesitated. “That sounds cold.”
“Not really. It’s merely human nature to move on and accommodate to new settings.” He knew all about that. “I was in foster care, moving from one place to the next every six months, for ten years. It’s okay to let people go and find happiness in a new life.”
“Your parents?”
He shrugged. “They were never in the picture.”
Her frown reminded him they weren’t as close as he’d been seduced into thinking.
“How did you meet your ex-wife?”
His wall of protection slammed into place. “You really want to talk about my ex-wife?”
“Yes. I want to know everything about you. You know me. You’ve done your research, observed me, we’ve talked about my past. What about yours? What makes you so ornery and untouchable?”
His mind careened to other sorts of touching. He cleared his throat as he forced himself to think back on those days with Heather.
“We met in high school. And then dated through our senior year.” Marie shivered. He put an arm around her shoulders and turned her back to the house. “When I enlisted, she wanted to come along, and I liked having her around. She’d become a constant.”
“She did your laundry? Made your dinner? Warmed your bed?”
He was embarrassed by the answer. “No, no, and yes.”
“Really?”
“She was pretty high-maintenance, even through high school. Should have been my first clue. But I was too stupid.”
“You wanted someone to love you.”
Malcolm frowned. “She didn’t. Love me, I mean.”
“You’re here, though. You survived. And I like you, so you’re not a complete loss.”
Her directness made him feel lighter. “I haven’t thought about it for a long time. Thanks to you for bringing up such painful memories.” He nudged her with his elbow.
“Processing these types of emotions makes us better people,” she proclaimed with a raised finger. He laughed. She hadn’t moved away. They still walked, as if they were friends. His heart pounded at the idea. He could be friends with this woman. After all these years, there was hope for him…
To be out of the muck and mire of his past.
His thoughts from yesterday came back to his mind as they reached the back porch.
The scent of a roast wafted through the door, and Marie left his side to open the screen door and then the storm door. “Come on. I’ve got something for you.”
She held the door as he went through.
Uncle Bert had an apron on and stood in front of a green gas stove. His crooked little walk brought him to the fridge and back to the counter. He reminded Malcolm of a little old grandfather from a fairy tale. Stereotypes aside, a lot like Rumpelstiltskin. “I have food for you and my Marie. Sit,” he ordered in a heavily accented voice. “Then we will drink and you will tell me all about yourself so I can approve you.”
Malcolm forced himself not to look at Marie. “Yes, sir.”
Funny, though, because he wouldn’t mind being approved.
***
Holy cow, she was so embarrassed. Uncle Bert wanted to approve Malcolm.
When she got him alone, she was going to kill him.
“And then, when she was twelve years, I had to bring her home from school because she had broken into all the lockers on eighth grade hallway.” His accent had gotten considerably thicker, which meant he’d had lots to drink and even more memories to share. The night was young…and she was in deep trouble.
“He doesn’t want to hear about my misspent youth, Uncle Bert.” She took a sip of her beer, gulping twice. “Is it warm in here? I think it’s warm in here.”
“Is not warm,” Uncle Bert answered.
Malcolm laughed, and she loved seeing him completely at ease in her family home. But if it was because he was laughing at her, well… “Tell him about Nonny.”
“Aaah, the most beautiful woman who ever lived. And she was feisty, on fire with her Romanian roots.” Uncle Bert pointed at Marie again.
“Geez, really? Is everything you say going to come back around to me?”
“Tonight you bring a man home. Tonight is about you.” Her uncle smiled. “Marie took all her earnings from the school heist and bought me a new hat.”
“That’s it,” Marie said, picking up her empty plate. “You two talk. I’m going to bed.”
“She is embarrassed. She’s a good girl, and there is honor deep in those roots. Even among thieves, we Bălans are considered the best, the most ethical and moral of all the thieves.”
She couldn’t hear Malcolm’s answer, but imagined he didn’t quite agree. The Bălans prided themselves on the fact they wouldn’t take a life or harm an innocent or leave destruction behind them. High praise! But in the past year, her own lines had moved. Maybe at Malcolm’s influence. Definitely at the Hawkins’ influence.
When she did her “acquiring” now, it was rarely with intentional thievery in mind. And she always carried cash so she could pay for the items she needed. Oh, when she was around Malcolm, she’d lead him on a little. He was so easy to rib, so easy to rile up. And knowing he didn’t approve of her dishonest ways made it fun.
But having all her skeletons dug out of the closet. Ack!
She took a few minutes to wash the dishes then went up the narrow stairs at the back of the house to the second floor. Uncle Bert could show Malcolm where to sleep.
Soon the liquor would come out, and then he would start a fire in the fireplace. Or maybe they’d go outside to the fire pit. But she was beat.
And in another day or two, Malcolm would leave for North Carolina, and she would talk with Uncle Bert about the armband, and about getting back into Dimitru’s. Luckily, she had a way back in—her phone, which she’d left at the Dimitru Estate. An added benefit: she’d be completely uninterrupted for the next two days.
With a grin, she stretched, doing a few token yoga positions before changing and going to bed. Even though it was chilly, she cracked the window open, admitting to herself that she hoped she would be able to hear the guys if they took to drinking outside.
But she drifted, her mind letting go of the tension from the weekend. The back door finally opened with a bang, and laughter drifted up on the cold breeze. She relished the coolness on her legs and enjoyed the sound of voices.
It had been a long time since the sound of family drifted up from the fire pit and into her room. The funniest part? She was fairly certain her uncle would put a stop to any bedtime shenanigans while Malcolm was here. And with a twin bed, she guessed the slow, burning, unstoppable ache since they’d first made love was going to have to hold her over.