Marcus lay back on the bed in his motel room, legs stretched out, pillows propped behind him while he talked on his cell.
“We’ve had eyes on Mitchell’s computer store, hoping to spot him somehow giving the information to a customer,” Grey was telling him. “Brad’s guy rented an office over the store across the street and sits there with a telescope, watching each transaction. He takes pictures of every customer and every license plate he can see, and Brad checks them out, but he’s got nada. Brad’s about to pull him out.”
“This guy may look like a nebbish,” Marcus told him, “but he’s not stupid.”
“No, he’s not. A good reason the gang members stay far away from the store. And that includes their wives, girlfriends, relatives, and anyone else close to them. He doesn’t want any visible connection.” He paused. “Which is why we need to find out if the barmaid is bringing info from her landlord and passing it along to one of the customers.”
“Bartender,” Marcus corrected. “Not a barmaid.”
“Whatever. Any progress?”
“I’m getting there,” he told Grey. “Sort of.”
“What does sort of mean?” Grey demanded. “This is getting urgent, Marcus. We got the word that another shipment of arms came and was delivered. We’re going to have World War Three if we can’t stop this. The gangs and the cartel are both armed to the teeth, and, supposedly, the next batch is coming in shortly. We know they’ll sell the goods for beaucoup bucks, damn it. Did you get a hint of anything or not?”
“Not yet, and believe me, I’m keeping my eye on her. Both eyes, actually.”
In fact, he could hardly keep from staring at her.
He shifted slightly on the bed and tucked a pillow beneath his left knee. It hardly bothered him anymore. Of course, Afghanistan was four years in the past, and he’d done every bit of rehab and then some. It might have kicked him out of Delta Force, but it wasn’t going to keep him off his motorcycle.
“I hear ya,” Grey said, “but we need to be able to stop this, like, yesterday. This guy is very clever about mixing up his shipments. Every time we think, bingo, we’ve got him, and we get a warrant, we open the shipping containers and there’s nothing but damn computer equipment in there. We need something concrete.”
“How long did you say they’ve been doing this?” Marcus snorted.
“We don’t have a definite on that,” Grey told him, “but we do know the activity has ramped up in the past eighteen months. That bar is our only connection right now.”
“Pub,” Marcus corrected him.
“Pub. Whatever. Get busy with that barmaid.”
“Bartender.” He ground his teeth. He knew there was a lot of pressure for this, but some things just could not be hurried. “She’s got her own bodyguard retinue there, the family that owns the place, and they keep giving me the stink eye.”
“Use your charm and your skills.”
“That’s about what I’m doing tonight. The patriarch sits at the bar every night, holding court. Tonight,+ I’m going to grab the stool next to him and see if I can score some points.”
“What about the other patrons? Anyone catch your eye?”
“No.” Marcus shook his head, even though Grey couldn’t see him. “I swear to god, Grey, if any of those patrons are passing messages or receiving them, I can’t figure out who or how. I’ve been watching very carefully, especially the guys who sit at the bar. So far, she’s not passing anything to anyone, and they aren’t passing things to each other.”
“Time’s running out,” Grey reminded him.
“I’m well aware of that. Tonight, I’m ramping things up a little. Moving them forward, so I’ll see what happens.”
“Report in tomorrow. Brad’s all over my ass.”
“He is an ass,” Marcus told him.
“He’s got his men there on speed dial. He says if you nail someone there, call right away and they’ll come scoop them up. You’ve got the number, right?”
“I’ve got it. And I’ll give you a report in the morning.”
He lay there on his bed after disconnecting the call, working things through in his mind. He thought he’d made good progress in just one week. He varied the times he showed up at the pub, as well as the length of time he stayed each night. One night, he hadn’t gone at all, although he’d had to restrain himself. Part of his problem was the fact that sweet Mary McCoy was growing on him. He really liked her, as a person as well as a female.
No, more than that. He lusted after her. It was a good thing he was always sitting down when he talked to her because it seemed his cock misbehaved the moment he saw her. Within seconds of taking his seat at the bar and greeting her, his dick became stiffer than a poker and tried to push its way out of his jeans. And his balls? Don’t even ask. He didn’t think they’d ever stop aching. Twice he’d had to concentrate when he headed for the men’s room so he didn’t walk funny.
In this short time, she’d even begun invading his dreams, a pleasant change from the usual nightmares. Sometimes, he dreamed they were on a beach, just the two of them. They were both naked and he could look his fill. Could put his mouth on her swollen nipples and suck and nip. Run his hands over her body, feeling the curve of her ass and sliding his fingers into the crevice there, touching that tight little opening. Pressing the tip of one finger into it.
Would she welcome the intrusion? Would her cream drip from her pussy in her excitement? Would she let him pull her forward so her sweet little cunt was right at his mouth so he could lap up all her cream and nibble at her clit?
Sweet Baby Jesus!
His jeans were suddenly too tight, constricting him, and his balls ached with a feeling too long absent. He didn’t want to believe she could have anything to do with illegal guns, but people had been fooled before. He had to make sure it wasn’t his dick leading him around.
At least they were getting to know each other, so he was making progress there. One of his skills was assessing people and understanding the complex layers that made them up. It was that skill that had prompted Grey to ask him to take this assignment, and he was focusing everything on getting to know her and getting her to feel comfortable with him. He always tried to get the stool at the end of the bar. It not only gave him the best view of what was going on but allowed him to create the opportunity for her to chat with him whenever she could.
When the bar was quiet, she gravitated toward where he sat, and they talked about this and that. And, he reminded himself, watching how she operated behind the bar and how she served, he’d catch it if she tried to slip a note to any of the customers. He’d done this before, but usually he had been able to look objectively at the players. He couldn’t seem to make himself objective where Mary McCoy was concerned.
What the fuck, anyway?
Tonight, he was moving into the next stage of the operation…getting her out of the bar and alone with him. He knew just how to do casual conversation with a woman to dig for details. The first thing he planned to do was try to get a seat next to Pat Collins—Pat the Patriarch, he’d taken to calling him—and hopefully rub away some of the man’s misgivings about him. When he took Mary out, he didn’t want them giving her grief and throwing a monkey wrench into the situation.
Of course, he wanted a lot more than conversation with Mary McCoy. He hoped he could keep his hands to himself long enough to get through an evening with her.
You’re a disciplined soldier, asshole. A former member of Delta Force. Keep it in your pants and use your head.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. He had a feeling that was going to be way easier said than done.
Sighing, he heaved himself off the bed and headed for the shower. He wanted to be extra presentable tonight when he moved into Phase Two.
*****
Mary couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the door to the pub every few minutes. She felt like a teenager waiting for the football star to notice her in class. What was the matter with her? She still knew almost nothing about Marcus Fitzgerald Tyree except that the sight of him made her nipples stiffen and moisture soak her panties. She’d gotten in the habit of walking him out the door each night, even with Pat and Tristan giving Marcus the stink eye. The sight of that big, masculine motorcycle ratcheted up the pulse in her sex and made her even wetter if possible.
What was the matter with her? She’d always been a very disciplined person, even in her sex life. She was careful in her selection of dates and her choice of partners. She never, ever let anyone stay the night, much to the grumbling and, in some cases, nastiness of her bed partners. She’d been told more than once she was too uptight and didn’t know how to let go.
Maybe that was why she’d ended up with incessant headaches and the threat of ulcers. Well, she certainly wasn’t uptight now, singing along with The Two of Us on the weekends and flirting with a motorcycle hunk she’d known for such a short time. Totally unlike her.
“Your eyeballs are going to fall out of your head and roll out into the street,” Paddy teased as he reached beneath the bar for a customer’s beer. It was slow tonight, so only Paddy and the waitress were working. Tris was taking advantage of the chance to spend time with Lane, the wife he obviously adored no matter how many years they’d been married. Mary noticed that about all the Collins family—when they loved it was for life, and, each year, that love only grew stronger. She wondered if she’d ever find that.
“Hello?” Paddy nudged her with his elbow. “Are you alive?”
“What?” She glared at him. “Of course I am. Did you want something?”
He laughed. “No, but you do, and I believe it just walked in the door. And he’s early tonight.”
She couldn’t help herself. She stared. He’d trimmed his scruff so it was close to the skin, making him sexier if that was even possible. His hair was neatly combed even if it was a little long. Tonight, his jeans were a little less worn, and, instead of a T-shirt, he wore a long-sleeved Henley, both of which showed off his muscular build to its best advantage.
“Oh.” The word popped automatically.
Paddy chuckled. “Stop drooling,” he teased. “You’ll get it on your blouse.”
“Um, not drooling.” She gave herself a mental shake. “He’s just a guy, right?”
“If you want to keep telling yourself that.” He nudged her until she turned to face him. “Mary, you can certainly do whatever you want. We’re not your keepers. But the Collins family has kind of adopted you as an honorary member, so Dad, Pop, and I especially want to keep an eye on things for you. Who is this guy? And why doesn’t he have anything to do except come in here every night and sit watching you and talking to you? We don’t know a thing about him—”
“He did two tours as a member of Delta Force, he’s from Tampa, and he’s not married.” She’d gleaned all of that from their conversations. “He’s taking some time to see the country, and he stopped in Baltimore because it looked like a nice place. He’s Irish, and when he looked up pubs, this one came up first. I don’t think he’s been in prison, but of course we could always check that. And he doesn’t show any signs of disease.”
At that, Paddy threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll shut up.” Then his face became serious. “But just be very careful, okay?”
“Okay.” She nodded, but she wanted to tell him in her previous line of work she’d had to be an intuitive judge of character because many of the people lied to make themselves look good. It had been up to her to separate the real from the phony. Although, she had begun to wonder why Marcus sat at the end of the bar night after night, nursing one, maybe two bottles of beer and chatting her up. He’d never even asked her out. If he did, would she go?
In a heartbeat.
Then she nudged Paddy and pointed to where Marcus had slid onto the stool next to Pat. “I think he’s decided to brave the inquisition, though. Probably why he’s early tonight, before your grandfather’s cronies take up the seats next to him.”
Paddy nodded. “If he survives, that will tell us a lot about him.”
It was a Wednesday night, so it wasn’t until after eight o’clock that they had a reasonable crowd in the pub. The regulars who liked sitting at the bar usually tried to get there before all the stools were gone. Frank Eglington was one of the earlier ones as usual.
“I guess you’re planning to break my heart, sweet Mary,” he teased as she placed a beer in front of him. “I may never get over it.”
Mary grinned at him. “Frank, you know you could have your pick of the single women in this place.”
He looked around. “Too bad I don’t see anyone who catches my eye except for you.” Then he turned back to face her, leaning forward a little. Just the same, you watch yourself, you hear? We don’t really know a lot about him.”
Oh, for god’s sake.
She wanted to throw up her hands. She appreciated the fact the people she’d come to know over the past few months felt so proprietary where she was concerned, and it gave her a feeling of security. But she considered herself to have good instincts about people. She’d met plenty sleazeballs dressed up and dressed down, and, by now, she felt she could spot them easily. She wasn’t sure exactly what Marcus Dupree was, but sleazeball didn’t even enter into her mind.
As she worked the bar, mixing drinks, pulling drafts, grabbing ice cold bottles of beer, she kept an eye on Pat and Marcus, engaged in what looked like earnest conversation. Or maybe it was just Marcus who was earnest. Pat had his usual “tell me everything” look on his face even as he digested and processed all information as well as body language and his own instincts. Which, she had to admit, were better than radar. At least Pat didn’t look like he wanted to kill the man, and Marcus didn’t look irritated. She was dying to know how it was going, but the couple of times she tried to refresh their drinks and eavesdrop, Paddy elbowed her aside.
“You’ll know soon enough if he gives it his blessing,” he murmured. “Meanwhile, I need a peach martini and two Moscow mules.”
Finally, finally, finally, Marcus drained his beer and placed the empty bottle on the bar. He shook hands with Pat, slid off his stool, and headed for his regular seat. With a mental So there, when she came on her shift, she tipped it forward, signaling the spot was taken. Marcus righted it and slid into it with catlike grace. Mary grabbed a bottle of Murphy’s Irish Red, popped the top, and set it in front of him. Then she filled a bowl with nuts and placed it next to the beer.
“Man, that’s some custom service you get,” the man next to him commented, eyebrows raised.
Marcus slid the bowl so it sat between the two of them. “Help yourself, buddy.” Then he leaned across the bar to Mary. “But I like the personal service.”
And there was that damn blush creeping up her face again, heating her cheeks. She hadn’t blushed since she was a teenager.
“You’re welcome,” was all she could think to say.
Lucky for her, three customers signaled for refills, and that got her out of the danger zone. Then, like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet, she was back at the end of the bar. To look like she was doing something besides drooling over Marcus between waiting on customers, she picked up the nut bowls and took them to the end of the counter to refill.
“Guess you’re not so special after all,” the guy next to Marcus joked.
“At Pat’s Irish Pub,” Mary said virtuously, “all the customers are special.”
She made a show of scattering the bowls along the bar, but then she was back to Marcus, her curiosity driving her.
“So,” she said, as nonchalant as she could be, “I see you had a nice conversation with Pat. It was, wasn’t it? Nice?”
His mouth curved in that panty-melting smile. “Yes. It was very nice. Since he seems to be your self-appointed guardian, I figured I’d let him grill me before I asked you.”
“Asked me? Asked me what?”
“Why, to take a ride on my bike with me.”
Ride with Mr. Sexy Motorcycle on the sexiest bike in the world?
And how many times can I think the word sex in one sentence?
“On your motorcycle?” Well, of course, dummy. Not on his back. “I mean, why yes, that would be very nice. Thank you.”
“I guess you drive yourself to work, right?”
“Usually,” she said, moving the bowl of nuts around. “But today, when I came out, I had a flat tire. Must have run over something sharp. Paddy picked me up, but, in the morning, I have to see about getting it changed and fixed.”
“See how nice things work out?” He winked at her. “I can give you a ride home. Then, in the morning, I can come by and take a look at your car.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you a mechanic?”
He shrugged. “I need to have some skills to keep the bike running in tiptop shape.”
“Oh. Well. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
But I want to. Please, please, please.
He reached across the bar for one of her hands. The contact sent such a shock of electricity through her she wondered it didn’t short out the wiring in the bar.
“You didn’t ask me,” he reminded her. “I volunteered. And it would be my pleasure.”
“I work until closing,” she reminded him.
There was that smile again. Once more and her legs would buckle and she’d drop to the floor.
“I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be worth it.” He drained the last of his beer. “In that case, I think I’ll switch to coffee.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get you a mug.”
When she brought it back from the kitchen and placed it in front of him, she was pleased to notice her hands didn’t tremble. She was less pleased, however, to see Frank watching her knowingly. The wink he gave her didn’t make her feel any more comfortable, either.
Normally, she didn’t mind slow nights at the bar. It gave her a chance to chat with the regulars, many of whom she’d gotten to know quite well by now. She could even talk some of them into trying the exotic drinks she liked to mix. But tonight, she felt as if every nerve in her skin was sizzling and crackling. At one point, she deliberately spilled some coffee on her blouse so she could change into a Pat’s Irish Pub T-shirt and hide her swollen nipples. If this went on much longer, she might run around the end of the bar, knock Marcus to the floor, and jump on him.
Holy shit!
She had to get hold of herself. Six cups of coffee later, she was barely more controlled. When, finally, at eleven o’clock, Tris looked around the bar and told her to take off early, she wanted to kiss him. Well, figuratively. She was acutely aware of Marcus watching her as she went about closing herself out at the bar, wiping down her area, and making sure things were in order for Paddy. And all the time, she could feel Marcus’s eyes boring into her.
“Get out of here,” Paddy said. “You’re good. Just watch yourself.”
“I will,” she told him in a low voice.
She walked around the end of the bar and headed toward the door, Marcus moving with lazy grace to arrive at the front of the bar when she did. She stopped, as usual, to say good night to Pat.
He gave her a hug and whispered in her ear, “You watch yourself and keep your cell phone on at all times.”
“I will. I promise.”
“He seems to be okay, but we’re here if you need us.”
“Thanks.” She hugged him back.
Marcus opened the door for her and ushered her outside. The monster bike was sitting right at the curb, under the street light that bathed the doorway of the pub. Its black body gleamed in the reflected light, and she could almost hear the roar of its engine.
Marcus took a key ring from his pocket and unlocked the bike then unlocked another tiny little metal box attached to it.
“Alarm,” he told her. “If anyone tries to mess with the bike, it makes a god-awful noise.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll bet a lot of men drool over this.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin. “Women, too.”
She wanted to tell him this woman sure did. Instead, she stood there and waited, squeezing her thighs together so she didn’t have an orgasm standing right here in front of the pub.
Marcus opened the saddlebag on one side of the rear tire and took out two helmets, handing one to her.
“Do you carry this around just in case you find a woman to climb on behind you?”
“Actually, Miss Smarty Pants, I bought it today because I hoped you’d say yes to a ride. And I’m hoping you’ll climb on my front, too.”
She stared at him, face heating, mouth open. What did she say to that?
Not much, so she put the helmet on and tried to fasten it.
“Here. Let me do that.” He brushed her fingers away so he could hook the chin strap in place for her.
Just the touch of his hand ratcheted up the heat level in her body. Oh, she was in such big trouble.
“There.” He smiled at her, his gaze locked with hers.
The color of his eyes had deepened almost to navy, and, in the light from the street lamp, she was sure she saw little gold flecks. Or was that heat flashing?
He ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, stroking it, before he stepped back. She missed his touch at once. She’d had the insane idea he was going to kiss her, and disappointment flooded her.
“I do need one thing from you, though. Your address.”
“Oh. Right.” She rattled it off.
She watched as he pulled out his cell phone and googled directions. Then he pulled a leather jacket out of the same saddle bag as the helmets and helped her into it. It was miles too big for her, but he wrapped it around her. She couldn’t help herself. She inhaled, drawing a deep breath of his tantalizing scent.
“Next time, you’ll need to bring one of your own.” He grinned, looking at her.
“Next time?”
“Oh, yeah.” He winked. “This is only the beginning.”
Yes! Yes! Yes!
“And better shoes, too,” he added. “Okay. Ready?”
“But what about you?” she asked. “Don’t you need a jacket?”
“I’m good. For now, anyway. Ever ridden a bike before?”
She shook her head. “But I’ve seen plenty of pictures.”
“Don’t worry.” He cupped her chin and smiled into her eyes. “I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”
Please do! Anything! Really!
He reached down to flip what he told her were footrests and locked them into place. Then he straddled the motorcycle.
“Put one foot on the left footrest,” he told her. “Swing the other foot over to reach the one on the right. Then tuck yourself into the space right behind me. And hold on tight.”
She had to grab onto his shoulder to balance herself. The minute she touched him, electricity arced between them so strong she wondered it didn’t light up the night sky. She managed to swing her leg over and find the other footrest. But then she had to press herself up against him and slide her hands around to hold onto him, and she was afraid she’d have a mini-orgasm right there on the bike.
“Slide your hands beneath my shirt,” he told her. “You’ll be able to hold on better.”
Uh-oh. Touch his bare skin?
She did as he asked, but when she touched the warm body beneath the thin Henley, it was almost more than she could bear. She had never, ever, since her first make-out session, had this kind of a reaction. Was she so sex-starved that any hot guy would turn her on like that?
No! Not just any guy. This hot guy, who somehow managed to push all of her buttons. But, stuck to him like adhesive, she could feel his heat seep into her body, smell the excruciatingly tantalizing scent of his aftershave, and feel the beat of his heart beneath her hands. In the tiny space where she sat, her mound was pressed hard against his very firm ass and the pulse in her overheated pussy pounded like a bass drum.
“Ready?” he called over his shoulder.
“Ready,” she answered, but she wasn’t sure for what.
He cranked the ignition, the engine roared, and they took off down the street. She was glad to see he drove at a safe pace, but as they wound sedately through the streets of Baltimore, she couldn’t help but wish they were on an open highway where he could really open it up.
This ride was doing things for her she hadn’t expected. Ever since the poster, she’d wondered how she’d feel riding on a beast like this. Well, now she knew. The vibration of the bike as it roared along spread through her body, starting between her thighs and moving up all the way to her breasts. It was like having a massive dildo for her entire body. She knew her panties were soaked by this time and wondered if the scent of her musk would permeate Marcus’s jeans where her mound was pressed up against him. The thrum of the bike’s engine was like a small vibrator on her clit.
She wondered what he’d do if she slid her fingers down just a little lower, to the fly of his jeans. What if she unzipped it and slid her fingers inside? Wrapped them around his cock and stroked him as he guided them up one street and down another.
Holy Mary!
She never had thoughts like this. She wanted to blame the damn poster, but that had just been the beginning. Right now, she contented herself with plastering her body to Marcus’s and enjoying the state of arousal caused by the vibrations.
All too soon, they pulled up in front of the duplex. Her neighbors were all asleep by this hour, and she hoped the noise of the bike’s engine wouldn’t disturb them too much. If they complained to her landlord, she’d have to find another place to live. But then she remembered she’d heard other motorcycles on the street in the mornings.
Marcus shut off the motorcycle and sat there in her driveway, his feet on the pavement on either side steadying it in place. Mary sat there for a moment, not sure what to do next. Then she realized he was waiting for her to get off first.
“Can you dismount okay?” he asked.
“What? Oh! Yes, sure.” As gracefully as possible, she managed to dismount, in the process rubbing her crotch against Marcus’s firm rear end.
He grabbed her wrist, closing his long fingers around it and tugging her around to face him. “You’d better not do that again unless you mean business.”
“D-do what?”
“Rub that hot little pussy of yours up against me like that. A man can only handle so much.”