TEN
Scotti
Okay.
Alright.
Yeah.
Mark Mallick was at my doorstep.
Holding my chicken buddy.
And he was mad at me.
Truly, I never thought I would see his face again. I never thought I would hear his voice after the last voicemail I listened to fifteen times before I finally had to destroy the burner like we always did.
Of course, of freaking course he would show up just when I was okay again, when I was done pining over someone I knew I could never have for more than the one blissful night I got with him.
"What?" I hissed, realizing the gun was still raised when his eyes went there, brow raised. My hand dropped numbly to my side. "They're rubber bullets," I felt the need to explain. "We would never use live rounds."
"Can't say that doesn't make me feel better," he agreed. "Is this little nugget allowed inside the house? He seems to think he is. He was knocking when I walked up."
"I think he might have, um, like imprinted on me or something," I explained, putting the gun down and reaching for the chick, careful to not let our fingers brush as I did so. I knew physical contact would not be a good thing. Namely, because I would want more and more of it and that would only complicate things further.
I forced myself to turn away from him, big-eyeing the room as I took the chicken to the kitchen where I grabbed a handful of the rice I had made the night before and gave it to him.
I could literally feel him behind me, even though he wasn't standing close. I could feel the way his eyes were raking over me. I could hear the unasked questions.
Feeling uncomfortable, I looked out the back window out into the dark. "What are you doing here, Mark?"
"You couldn't even say you were heading out of town, Scotti?"
"For what?" I asked, feeling him move in behind me, but refusing to turn. His hands planted wide on the counter to my sides, bringing back the bright, vivid memory of him doing the exact same thing in his kitchen. "You had to have known what we had was temporary." God, those words were hard to force out. The truth often was.
"Maybe you saw it that way, Scotti. I didn't. I wanted more."
Those last three words were said right beside my ear, his warm breath making a shiver course its way through my system.
And they also sliced right through me.
The feeling was immediate and overwhelming.
"I wanted more too," I admitted, swallowing hard, using every bit of strength I possessed to not lean back into him. I needed to stand my ground. I needed to keep my wits about me.
"And yet..."
"And yet, I had to go. You knew I would. I knew I would. There was no way for me to ever stay in Navesink Bank. Hell, there's no way for me to even stay in this country."
"Since the fuck when?" Mark asked, sounding exasperated, moving away from me.
Feeling safe turning when he was a few feet away, I did. "What?"
"Honey, this country is full of criminals. Most of them far fucking worse than you and your brothers. Murderers. Rapists. Kingpins. People who get a leg up in life by stepping on the necks of others. They don't feel the need to go to fucking Russia. They grease the right palms. They stay smart. They trust few with the truth. But they stay."
"I don't see how it's worth the risk."
"The risk of what? Prison? Scotti, I saw the news report of this robbery. The descriptions sounded fucking nothing like you or your brothers for that matter. I couldn't even tell you which one did the job with you and I know what they all look like. You guys have covered your tracks really well. I bet if I looked back to the older ones, they would be just as diverse and different from daily appearance. Actually," he said, suddenly looking serious. "If you guys wear disguises, why weren't you on the day we met?"
"I wasn't technically in on that job. We all take turns on who does what each time, except Rush who is always on wheels. But for those of us who aren't in on the actual job, sometimes we just walk the store to make sure no cops are shopping, or any customers are carrying randomly that could cause a problem. I was just keeping an eye out for trouble."
"Guess you found it, huh?" he asked, a devilish spark in his eye for a second before looking around. "Where are your brothers?"
"They were in a celebrating mood."
"And you weren't?" he asked, moving away from me, an act that seemed to allow me to breathe again as he moved toward the living space, picking up the book I had been reading. "You'd rather sit at home and read books about plants?"
"There's a huge garden here. I found out that I'm kind of into it," I explained, feeling a little weird admitting that. It wasn't like I picked up some cool hobby like Krav Maga or electric guitar. I was into gardening. Like my grandmother used to be. If I remembered correctly, she had an amazing garden. I was maybe hoping that green thumbs ran in the family.
"That's great, baby," he said, making me want to find sarcasm there, but all I heard was sincerity.
"And I just... I am over it," I admitted, not knowing what was possessing me to share that. "I want all of this over so I can move on."
"And start a garden in Russia."
I sighed. "Why are we talking about this? Why are you even here?" I stopped then, my stomach dropping. No, seriously. Why was he here? How was he here? How did he know where to look for me? If he could find us so easily, then anyone else could, right? We were going to have to leave. I was going to need to leave my beloved garden and chicken baby.
"Scotti, relax," his voice reached me, sounding a strange mix of amused and reassuring.
"Relax?" I snapped, moving over to the fire and poking it to make the flames soar higher, warming my face to the point where I almost worried about my eyebrows. But my eyebrows could be damned. The evidence needed to disappear immediately. And I needed to pack. And call my brothers. I just... I couldn't let them come back for me though. That was too risky. I needed to call a cab, see if they were willing to come out this far. Then I needed to pack and clean. Normally it took four or more hours to clean, but I would have to do my best in under one.
"Scotti, fuck, what are you doing?" Mark asked, moving with me as I frantically ran to my room and started stuffing items into my bag.
"I have to pack. We have to go," I snapped, whipping past him to move into the bathroom.
His wide-palmed, work-calloused hand grabbed my arm just below the sleeve of the tee, curling tight, and yanking me to a stop. "Jesus, calm the fuck down. What do you mean you have to go? Five minutes ago, you were reading a gardening book."
"Five minutes ago someone didn't show up out of nowhere, knowing exactly where to find us. I think you don't fully grasp the meaning of a 'safe house.'"
"Scotti, the only reason I found you is because the news report gave the county and I knew that my parents crashed in a cabin up here once back before any of us came along when they were worried about the law sniffing around them. I think the only people who know this place exists are those who have stayed here."
Okay.
Maybe that made me feel mildly better.
But I wasn't convinced either.
"I have never seen a criminal as fucking paranoid as you are. And trust me, honey, I know a lot of damn criminals."
"Yeah, but most criminals operate under the eye of the law, keep a low profile. We have a lot of fanfare involved in our job. Every time we do it, we draw attention."
"I know a guy who is a sniper. His jobs routinely make the news."
"Sure, but the word sniper implies that it is done from far away and that no one sees him."
"Alright then. Well, I know contract muscle, arms-dealing bikers, Italian mob, a lawless military..."
"What point are you trying to make here, Mark?"
"That your only option in the world isn't to run. You could lay low for a while, make sure all blows over, then build a life here. As Scotti, not Angela or whatever other names you go by. I'm assuming your legal record is clear. As are your brothers."
"I was eighteen when we started," I said with a smile. "Before that, I had a mother and four over-protective brothers. I couldn't skip homework without getting someone on my ass. Let alone sneak out or drink underage."
"So, why not give it a thought?" he offered. "Maybe if you sat and hashed it out after all this time, you might see it's possible to stay. Hell, you could even crash here if you wanted until it all blew over. Why not think about it?"
I didn't want to get my hopes up, that was why.
I didn't want to start getting ideas, start making plans, only to realize at some point that I would have to scrap them all and start again.
But then again, he was right.
My brothers and I concocted the plan a decade ago and had just... pursued it since then. The targets were all planned. The towns we stayed in after were all planned. The budget was mapped out. And the end game had always been the same.
Maybe they had doubts as well. Maybe they had wishes to stay. Maybe they knew a way that we could go about doing it.
"Just think about it, yeah?" he asked, ducking his head low, catching my eyes.
"Why are you pushing this so hard?" I asked, needing to know his motives. Well, actually, maybe a part of me was really hoping he was as messed up about the separation as I was, no matter how ridiculous it may have been.
"I dunno, baby. Why the fuck have I been watching the news of every state for the past two weeks waiting for this story? Why did I haul my ass up here, pushing eighty the whole way so I didn't miss you?" His hands moved out, landing at my hips, and pulling, making mine press into his, but keeping our upper bodies separated. "There just... seemed to be something here, don't you think?"
"We only knew each other for like a day."
"And yet here I am," he said, folding his arms across my lower back, pulling me closer. "And yet here you are ready to reevaluate a decade of plans."
"I didn't say anything about that being about being closer to you."
"Admit it's a factor. No matter how ridiculous it may seem given how new this all is. You wanted more of me."
I took a deep breath, knowing there was no way he would believe it even if I lied. "I wanted more of you."
"See? I knew all I had to do to hook a woman was cook her a good meal. And, you know, the orgasms probably didn't hurt either."
"Mm," I agreed, feeling an electric-like current move through me, seeming to rest and strengthen between my thighs where need was becoming a throbbing thing. "The orgasms might have definitely been a factor."
"Maybe I should give you some more. You know, just to make sure. For science."
"Science is the backbone of any logical argument," I agreed, tilting my head to the side as his head ducked to plant a kiss right below my ear. "We really should, um... oh," I groaned as his tongue traced down my neck.
"Should what?" he asked, pulling my shirt to the side to press a kiss beneath my clavicle.
"Should, um, conduct an experiment on the, yeah, that," I whimpered as his hands slid down my sides and slipped under my shirt, touching the bare skin of my stomach.
My skin felt overheated, more sensitive than it usually was. The very brush of his fingers across my ribs sent an almost painful surge of need through me.
"Been missing me, huh?" he asked, sounding satisfied in himself as I swayed against him. "So if I were to do this..." he trailed off as his fingers suddenly pressed me between my thighs unexpectedly, making me let out a moan. "Yeah, I thought so. I bet all it would take was five minutes of my tongue in that sweet pussy of yours and you'd be screaming my name."
He'd win that bet.
"But I'm not going to do that."
"Why not?" I whimpered as his fingers pressed my clit and then moved away.
"Because I am going to make you beg for it," he informed me, hands going to the hem of my tee again, slowly lifting it upward. "I think I earned the right to torture you after you made me think I would never see you again for a full week."
"Wouldn't it be more fun to rip each others' clothes off and then go at each other until we forget all those other pesky things?" I suggested as my arms went over my head and he discarded my shirt, leaving me bare from the waist up.
There was a rumbling laugh from Mark as he lowered himself down in front of me, hands going to the waistband of my shorts. "Nice try, baby," he said as the material slid down and I stepped out of my shorts and panties. "But you're just going to have to resign yourself to this reality," he told me as his head ducked, and his fingers spread me, and his tongue slid between my folds.
My legs wobbled so hard that I had to slam my hands down on his shoulders to hold myself up as he kept lavishing over me, driving me upward, getting to the point of proving his previous point. But just as my sex started to tighten, just as I was sure the torment was going to end, he pulled back, looking up at me with a wicked grin.
"I hate you," I whined as he got to his feet, hands going to my hips, pulling me back toward the bed then pressing me against it.
"And yet you're going to lay there and touch your pussy like a good girl while I get out of these pesky clothes."
He was right; I totally was.
I proved this by letting my legs fall open slightly, by letting my hand slide between them as he looked down at me.
"See?" he asked, voice deeper, eyes more hooded. He reached up behind his back, pulled his tee off, and tossed it to the side. "Spread your legs, baby. Let me see you slide that finger inside that wet pussy."
And really, with him looking at me with those gorgeous eyes, talking to me in that sex-sexy voice, standing there looking all god-like with all his muscles, was there really any way to deny him what he wanted?
As my finger slid lower, so did his hands, reaching for his button and zip, then sliding his jeans and boxer briefs off.
There was a distinct pre-orgasm tightening as his cock came into view, hard and straining, and full of promise.
"Now, Scotti," he demanded on a sound that was hardly more than a growl.
Just as he commanded it, my finger slid in as his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it to the base.
After that, well, all I knew was the need I felt inside at seeing his cock, in imagining it buried deep inside me again. I never realized before how almost unbearably sexy it was to watch a man touch himself, especially so when he was doing it while watching you was all the more intoxicating.
I was so wrapped up in those thoughts that I didn't see his other hand reach out and snag my wrist, holding it still. "You don't come until I tell you to come," he growled, stroking himself faster.
And, desperate to get him to the edge as I was, I folded upward, reaching to cover his hand with my own, then leaning downward to take him in my mouth.
"Fuck," he growled, hand going to the back of my head, sliding into my hair at the base of my neck, curling, and pulling just to the point of pain.
He didn't let me torture him for long, though.
One moment I was taking him deep. The next, there was a stinging pain in my scalp as he yanked back roughly, twisting harder, making me angle up to look at him.
"On the bed, all fours," he demanded, making anticipation shiver through my belly.
I couldn't move fast enough.
I was vaguely aware of him reaching for his pants and the crinkle of a condom foil before I felt his hands sink into my hips, pulling me backward, then letting his fingers drift up my belly to cup my breasts, rolling the nipples with perfect pressure, making me shamelessly press my ass back into him.
His hands moved around and down my back, one grabbing my ass hard, the other moving between my thighs, and shoving two fingers inside me deep. Before I could even register the invasion, his fingers were fucking me hard and fast and unrelenting, making me collapse half-forward, fingers digging into the sheets.
"Mark, please," I begged, face buried in the sheets as his fingers somehow got faster, harder.
"Please, what?" he asked, sounding on edge himself.
"Please fuck me," I clarified, feeling his fingers pull out of me.
There was hardly even a pause before his cock was slamming inside me, impossibly deep, with enough pressure that my entire body jolted forward, making him slide his hand up my back to sink his hands into my hair, curling, wrapping, and yanking, using it to hold me in place as he started fucking me.
"Oh my God," I whimpered, shamelessly shoving back into him as he thrust forward, taking him as deep as my body would allow, driving me toward the peak faster than ever before. I could feel my walls tightening, almost painfully intense.
"Nope," Mark growled, pulling completely out of me just as I thought the torment was going to come to a glorious end.
"No," I whimpered, falling forward onto the bed as his hand slapped my ass hard enough that I was sure there would be a red mark there later.
But before I could even register the full sting, his hands were grabbing my hips and tossing me onto my back, taking my legs, and dragging them back so my butt was off the edge of the bed, my legs resting on his shoulders.
His hands slid up and down my calf as his smile went boyish again, making a strange tightening sensation start in my chest, something I was sure I had never felt before and therefore couldn't name, but it was a mix of amazing and terrifying, whatever it was.
"Really gotta make you suffer," he told me, kissing the inside of my ankle. "So you don't go running off without talking to me again first."
Then with that, I felt his cock press against then slowly penetrate me, unhurried, sweet. One of his hands slid down and between my thighs, moving gently over my clit as his gaze found mine and held.
And I was sure I never felt more exposed as I did right in that moment. Vulnerable. Completely bare to another person.
Where it maybe should have felt scary or uncomfortable, full of growing pains, all that I could seem to feel was a heavy sort of rightness.
Seeming to feel the heaviness himself - or possibly that was just me projecting my own feelings onto him - Mark lowered my legs, wrapping them around his lower back, then lowering himself forward, pressing his body fully into mine. It was the first time I realized how much I wanted that contact.
His hands reached for mine, slipping between my fingers, and holding them against the bed as his face lowered and his lips claimed mine.
Then he was no longer fucking me.
He was doing something I was sure I had never experienced before.
He was making love to me.
And all the times I had cringed at that phrase, thought it was sappy, cheesy, old-timey, well, I was flat-out wrong.
This wasn't sappy or cheesy or old-fashioned.
It was amazing.
Almost overwhelming.
More intense than anything I had ever experienced before.
As he ever-so-slowly drove me to the edge, this time me knowing he was going to let me go over and crash, as his lips gently owned mine, I felt a sting of tears in my eyes that I had to fight to keep away just as Mark pushed me into that suspended nothingness.
His lips pulled from mine as he pushed up, watching me with intense eyes. "I want to watch you come," he told me, voice nothing more than a harsh whisper as his cock pressed inside me once again and I... completely fell apart.
My fingers raked claw marks into his shoulders as I cried out his name, the waves seeming to crash endlessly as Mark kept stroking into me through it, dragging it out.
"Beautiful," he declared when the last wave settled, pressing deep one last time and then coming with my name on his lips.
His face buried into my neck as my legs and arms wrapped him up, held him perhaps way too tightly.
I didn't want the moment to end.
I wanted to stay that way for hours, days, forever.
It was eventually Mark who pulled against me, planting a kiss on my shoulder before pressing up on his hands. "Let me up, honey," he half-asked, half-declared in a quiet voice, planting a sweet kiss to my lips as I forced my legs and arms to give up their vice hold of him.
He moved off the bed and out of the bedroom to the bathroom as I forced myself to move up the bed and climb under the covers, take deep breaths to keep it together so I didn't go do something insane like telling him how other-worldly that sex session had just been, ask if he felt the same intense connection.
'Cause, let's face it, that was generally not the kind of talk you had with a man after the second sex session. It was way too much, way too soon. Even if he did chase you down to your safe house and make you reevaluate your life plans so he could maybe get to see more of you.
Even then it seemed too risky.
I didn't want to ruin what was looking to be a good thing by going too deep too fast.
Maybe, just maybe, if when I discussed it with my brothers, we could stick around. There was a chance, albeit a small one, that I could get to know Mark well enough to tell him how I felt with him on this stranger's bed in this lovely cabin, where I had spent so much unhappy time wishing I could have more of him.
That would be nice.
"That tub looks big enough for two," Mark informed me as he walked back in, gloriously naked, beautifully unconcerned with that fact, hair bed-messy, smile boyish. "Think I need a nap and then we might need to break that fucker in. I imagine those jets could be a lot of fun if we can get you in the right position," he went on, making my sex thrill at the idea despite the fact that the orgasm I just had should have been enough to last me days, weeks, a lifetime.
"Trying to torture me some more?" I asked as he pulled back the sheets and slid in, sitting slightly up against the headboard, and pulling me so my back was against his chest, his arms around my front.
"You tortured me first. You had it coming," he informed me, whispering his fingers across my belly.
My eyes narrowed as my body stiffened. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for more tickle spots. Oops," he said when his fingertips brushed across the sensitive underside of my breast. "Found a hot spot instead. Cataloging that for later. Back to the tickle... ah, there it is!" he declared when his light touch found my ribs, and I automatically squealed and tried to jerk away. "Don't worry. I'm not torturing you right now. Just keeping that in mind the next time your stubborn ass decides to run away instead of talking shit out."
"I'm pretty sure the woman is usually the one demanding talks."
"I'm pretty sure the man is usually the one running chickenshit scared. We got a gender-reversal thing going on here. Lucky for me, talking has never been a fucking weak spot for me." There was a short pause as his arms folded across me, squeezing me tight. "And I got some fucking chains in my truck if your ass proves a flight risk over bullshit little things again."
"Prosecution and life in prison, you mean."
"Yeah, little things," he agreed, sounding like he was smiling.
"You're ridiculous."
"Then you must have a thing for ridiculous men."
"No, I have a thing for men who smell like fresh-cut grass and concrete grit. The ridiculous thing really blindsided me." To that, I got fingers teasing over my ribs for one playful second, making me slam my head back onto his shoulder. "But you make up for it in the cooking and bedroom department," I conceded.
"So, you gonna talk to your brothers about staying?"
I turned my face into his neck, breathing him in, letting the scent calm me. "Yes."
"Once more, with feeling," he demanded, voice low.
"I don't want you to get your hopes up," I admitted, adding silently: or my own.
"Think you'll be surprised and find that they overwhelmingly want to stay too. Nothing against China or Russia, but they aren't home, y'know? This is all they know. The customs and lifestyle here are what they are familiar with. Maybe most importantly," he added, voice sounding lighter, "they know how to get American women into bed. Who knows what the women of China or Russia expect from us."
"Heaven forbid you have to take them on a date or bring them flowers, right?"
"You want flowers, baby? I'll get you flowers."
"I was being sarcastic," I rushed to say, not wanting him to think he needed to do things to 'win' me. He had me already, if that wasn't already as painfully clear to him as it was to me. Painfully because there was still a chance I would have to give him up if my brothers thought it was too risky to stay. Sometimes, when I was sure they would go one way on an issue, they would throw me off by going the complete other.
"Still getting you flowers," Mark declared casually. "You can practice your green thumb on them and shit." There was a long silence as I felt Mark's body swell and release beneath me, yawning. "You're not expecting them 'till morning, right?"
"Or later," I agreed, inwardly thrilling at the idea of getting one night, just one single, solitary night alone with Mark. No worries about someone barging in, or making things uncomfortable, or overhearing us. Just us. Alone in the woods.
"Alright. So sleep. Bathtub fucking with jet action. Then we drag ourselves out there and make some food to help them soak up the booze when they come stumbling in. Then you can talk to them while I take a walk. Plan?"
I smiled wide because I was pretty sure he couldn't see, and nodded. "Plan," I agreed.
"Good. Now rest up. I'm thinking that tub can get you to four orgasms before my cock even comes near you. You need your strength."
And that was my goodnight from Mark Mallick.
Ridiculous? Yes.
Sexy? Yeah, definitely that too.
Perfect? I was pretty much convinced it was.
I should have stayed awake, staring at the walls, reminding myself how dangerous that line of thought was. That was the smart, prudent, very Scotti-like thing to do.
But I didn't do that. I rolled when he pulled me down onto his chest, sank into his warmth, his strength, his comforting scent. I let my belly go liquid when he kissed my temple. I traced his tattoos as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Then, deciding I was going to let myself have this, to not stress about it, to not ruin it, I too drifted off, feeling safer than I ever had in my life.
And maybe, if I had stayed awake to think on that, I might have realized what that meant.