Mary parked her car behind the pub and walked in through the back door, pasting a smile on her face. She refused to wear her misery like a gown. She had no one to blame but herself for this. She was a big girl who had gone into this with her eyes wide open. She had wanted one wild ride with Mr. Motorcycle and a Yamaha VMax, and that was exactly what she got. Good thing she wasn’t looking for anything else or she’d be in bad shape.
She’d managed to work Saturday night, although both Tristan and Pat urged her to take the night off. “With pay,” they told her.
But staying home would have been a disaster. As it was, when she got home Friday night, she fell into bed and indulged in a crying jag like nothing she’d ever done before. That just wasn’t her style. And Karen, bless her, hadn’t bitched about a three a.m. call, nor did she point out to Mary the folly of falling for a man she really knew nothing about. And the bustle of a Saturday night at the pub had been just what she needed.
Sunday morning, she awoke to the ringing of her doorbell. She stumbled downstairs, peeked through the spyhole in the door, and saw Marcus on her doorstep.
“Go away,” she shouted.
“Just let me talk to you,” he pleaded. “Give me ten minutes to explain. Five. Anything.”
“No. And if you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.”
To her surprise, he actually got on his bike and left.
But then her phone began to ring, so often she finally turned it off. Deciding shopping therapy was what she needed, she headed for a nearby mall where she spent the day in a manic shopping spree. When she got home, she was careful to be on the lookout for a macho man on a macho motorcycle, but there was no sign of him. She also noticed there was some kind of official lock apparatus on her landlord’s door, which begged another question. Was she going to have to find another place to live?
The arrests had been on all the newscasts.
DEA Breaks Gun Smuggling Ring in Baltimore.
Although the stories gave a lot of details, they did not mention Pat’s Irish Pub. She wasn’t sure who did the arm twisting—Marcus, his boss, or the DEA—but the reports only referred to a local bar. Thank the lord for that, at least.
That night she put herself to bed with half a bottle of wine, fell asleep, and dreamed about the poster in her old office. Only this time, the face of the rider belonged to Marcus Tyree. She awoke more distressed and anguished than when she’d gone to sleep. She wasn’t sure which disturbed her the most: the fact that he’d used her as part of his cover or that he’d thought she might be the connection between Mitchell and the gang.
The phone calls continued for two more days, and then, blessedly, they stopped. In the past three days, she’d managed to pull herself together, mostly by digging for the corporate Mary and shutting her emotions away. Each day it got a little easier, especially with the wonderful Collins family rallying around her.
Pasting a smile on, she opened the back door and walked into the pub. Tristan was just coming out of the office and stopped to take a look at her.
“I’m okay,” she assured him, just like she had for the past four days. “Really. Fine.”
But Tris held up a hand to stop her. “Are you really? I know you’ve been working all your shifts and doing your usual damn fine job.”
She frowned. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”
“But are you really okay? Because I don’t think I am. I’m pissed as hell that anyone would think this pub was a place for criminals to pass messages. Or do anything for that matter.” He scowled. “Not to mention the fact that I was the one who told those two pieces of garbage they could play here.” He made a rude noise. “No wonder they made it so attractive for me, not asking for anything but their tip money.”
“What did you tell me not just two days ago? ‘It’s done. Over with. Now it’s time to get past it.’”
“Throw my own words back at me,” he growled, “why don’t you.”
“Only so you can take a dose of your own medicine.” She sighed “Listen. I was the idiot who was flattered by his attention. Who thought being with him would be an adventure. So let’s both say we’re moving forward, okay?”
“God, Mary. Some fine man is going to be very lucky to get you.” Then he smiled at her. “But you’d better let us vet him for you.”
That gave her the first real laugh in days.
“I’ll put it on my list. Anyway, I’d better get to work. My boss is a real slave driver.”
Today, she was working the early hours, which left her less time at home in the morning to brood. Thank the lord for that.
“Before you do that,” Tris said, “Pop wants to talk to you.”
“Oh lordy.” She rolled her eyes. “Am I going to get ‘the talk’? Like a teenager?”
Tris choked on a laugh. “Maybe, but not like you think. Go on, now. He’s waiting.”
Sure enough. There he was at his usual stool, nursing a mug of coffee, jabbering with one of his cronies.
Mary stowed her purse, as usual making sure her cell was turned off. She checked for calls and texts a couple of times a day, mostly because Karen would arrive on a broomstick if she cut herself off altogether. Sighing, she smoothed her ponytail, squared her shoulders, and went to talk to Pat, who was watching her intently. The man sitting next to him grabbed his mug and moved a few stools away.
“Good morning, Pat.” Mary gave him a hug. “Tris said you wanted to see me?”
His old eyes studied her carefully. She knew he was taking in every detail, from the circles beneath her eyes she couldn’t quite conceal to the paleness of her face to the agony that still flashed in her eyes.
“You’re looking a little peaked, darlin’,” he told her. “You need to sleep better.”
Mary gave a short laugh. “I’m working on it.”
“You know, that man of yours did us a big favor, using all the clout he could gather to keep the name of the pub out of the news reports.”
“First of all,” she snapped, “he’s not my man. And, second, if he hadn’t been here, there would have been no need to think about keeping the place out of the news.”
“Mary, Mary, Mary.” He shook his head. “The stuff was going on right under our noses. Messages from an illegal arms dealer to the crud buying it from him. He was sent here to ferret it out, and he did. Without him handling it, it could have gone down a lot worse. I promise you, the feds didn’t give a shit about Pat’s Irish Pub.”
“But he—”
Pat held up his hand. “He got the man outside without any fuss, had him arrested where no one could see what was happening, and kept us out of the reports. No easy task.”
“Oh, so now he’s a big hero, and we should just forget how he…how he…”
Damn it. There went the tears again. Pat handed her napkins from the bar, so she could wipe her eyes. She’d need a quick makeup repair before she took up her station behind the bar.
Pat took one of her hands in both of his.
“We shouldn’t forget anything. He did you wrong, and he knows it, and it’s tearing him up.”
She stared at him. “And you know this because…?”
“Because he took me to breakfast this morning, me and Tris, and blubbered all over his food.”
Her eyes widened. “Blubbered? Marcus Tyree? I don’t believe that.”
Pat chuckled. “Okay, maybe blubber is the wrong word. But, Mary, the man is in pain. He’s hurting a lot.”
“He deserves it.”
Pat nodded. “He does, and I told him so. But he really cares for you, and he’s suffering mightily because of what he had to do.”
“He used me,” she cried. “He disrespected me. He—” She waved a hand in front of her face as tears started again.
“Listen to what I’m saying. The man could have gotten on that big machine of his and headed home when everything was done. Right? That is, if there was nothing else keeping him here. But he stayed. Because I can see you’ve become very special to him. He was just doing his job here, and it kills him that he hurt you in the process.”
She looked down at her hands. “I can’t believe you’re defending him.”
“Because I believe he’s a good man. He’s had a lot of anguish in his life, not the least of which was having to deceive you.”
“He made it a point to talk to you the other night. Didn’t you suspect anything then?”
He shrugged. “Sad to say, must be getting old because no, he just seemed like a nice young man who didn’t want to get his ass thrown out of here because he had the hots for my bartender. So be mad at me if you want to.”
She shook her head. “I could never be mad at you. I guess I’m really mad at myself for not seeing through him.”
Pat looked at her with a world of understanding in his eyes. “You’re like my own child, Mary, and I’ll tell you what I’d tell any of my girls. It’s up to you, but I sense goodness in him, the kind you can’t fake. I’d give the man a chance. You have nothing to lose, right?”
Mary sighed. “I guess not. But only because you vouch for him.”
“Good. Very good, darlin’.” He smiled at her. “He should be at the back door by now. Go on.”
“B-but I have to work. I—” She looked down the bar and saw Paddy standing where she usually did, grinning and nodding. “This is a big plot, isn’t it,” she accused.
“It is. So don’t let it go to waste.”
She started to get her purse, but Tris already had it and handed it to her.
“I’m not quite as forgiving as Pop,” he told her. “If he hurts you again, I’ll rip off all his limbs.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him that.”
She could feel three sets of eyes on her as she headed out the back door into the parking lot. Sure enough, there was Marcus, leaning on the big Yamaha VMax. He looked so damn sexy in the jeans and T-shirt and his aviator sunglasses. The shades effectively blocked her from reading the expression on his face, but one thing struck her. She was used to a supremely self-confident Marcus Tyree, and this man’s posture gave off definite signs of uncertainty.
She stopped about two feet away from him and wet her lips.
“Hello, Marcus.”
“Mary.” He dipped his head once.
“Pat said you wanted to talk to me.”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d take a ride with me. Pat tells me you’re off this afternoon.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Yes. Unexpectedly.”
“Will you ride with me, then?” He lifted one of the helmets off the seat and held it out to her.
With a sigh, she took it from him and put it on. As he’d done the other times, he stepped forward to fix the chinstrap for her. The touch of his fingers on her skin was like the feel of hot metal, searing her skin but with an erotic heat. That traitorous pulse in her inner walls began to throb insistently, sending a message of need to every part of her body. It didn’t help when he ran a thumb over her lower lip in a light caress. Damn! She just didn’t seem to be able to control herself with this man.
Finally, he straddled the bike.
“Hop on,” he told her.
Obediently, she climbed on behind him and pressed her body so tightly to his she could feel the curve of his excellent ass where it touched the mound of her sex. She had to bite her lip to keep from rubbing herself all over him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and clasped her hands together against his washboard abs. He cranked the engine and turned to pull out of the parking lot. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Pat, Paddy, and Tris all standing at the back door, watching then waving.
Conspirators!
She had no idea where they were going. Marcus hadn’t said, and she hadn’t thought to ask. Her brain didn’t seem to be functioning too well today. Resigned to whatever happened, she pressed her cheek to the leather of his jacket and just let the rhythm of the motorcycle and the feel of the sun do their work.
Before long, they were out of the city and on a country road, but a different one from their picnic. She thought he must spend all his free time exploring. Again, he pulled off the highway, this time down a narrow, rutted path that could hardly be called a road. It was so overgrown with trees and bushes it was almost invisible from the road. Suddenly, they emerged into a tiny clearing, and he stopped the bike. When Mary climbed off, she saw they had stopped by a small creek bubbling happily in the sunshine over a bed of rocks. It was almost a fairytale setting.
Marcus set the bike on its kickstand, helped her off with her helmet, and removed his. They stood there in the tiny space, scant inches apart, the air between them so charged Mary wondered electricity didn’t crackle in the air.
“Take off your sunglasses,” she told him. “I assume we’re going to talk. And I want to be able to see your eyes.”
He did, hooking them in the neck of his T-shirt, and, in them, she saw such pain it nearly brought her to her knees.
“Marcus,” she began, but he shook his head.
“Me first, or I’ll never get it out.”
“Okay.”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“You need a little of my story, and be aware I don’t talk about this to anyone.”
She stood silently while he talked about his two tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan. About the men he’d watched die, some of them in his arms. About the time he and his squad were trapped in a bombed-out house, cut off by insurgents, and sure they would all die before help arrived. He talked about being wounded twice and pushing himself through recovery so he could get back to active duty. He told her of the never-ending nightmares that, even now, haunted his dreams.
“When I finished my last tour, someone told me about The Omega Team, a private security contractor that works for individuals as well as the government, doing things no one else wants to do. That’s how I ended up in Baltimore.”
“How so?” she asked.
So he told her about Brad and the illegal gun dealing. About the two DEA agents who had died, so he needed someone who didn’t look so government to go in.
“A snitch told us the information was being passed at the pub since they were out of business with cell phones.”
“And it was just my bad luck to get my job and rent my duplex at exactly that moment.”
He nodded but didn’t say a word for a long time. Then he cupped her chin in that way he had and tilted her face up to his.
“I never expected to fall for you the way I did. Hell, I haven’t connected with a woman except in bed for anonymous sex in longer than I care to admit.” He shook his head. “I wanted to tell you what was going on because by that time I was positive you weren’t involved. But there is a rule: never compromise a mission, no matter what.”
She studied his face, looked hard into his eyes, trying to read everything there. For the first time since she’d met him, there were no shields in place. She saw anguish, regret, and, mixed in with it, caring and need.
“You have every right to hate me,” he went on, “but I want you to know everything that happened between us was honest. I never believed someone like you would come into my life, or I could even begin to deserve it. Maybe I still don’t. But I’d like to find out. If you can ever forgive me, that is.”
She wanted to throw caution to the wind, but there were other problems to deal with. She couldn’t take one step forward and fall two steps back.
“Even if I do,” she told him, “you’ll be leaving here. I don’t even know where you live. You don’t even know where I live. How do we move forward?”
He took her hands in his, closing his fingers around them. “I live in Tampa, where the agency is headquartered, although I could live anywhere. But Grey talked me into buying a nice little house, and I’m enjoying fixing it up. I think you’d like it.” His laugh had a touch of nervousness. “I guess I’d have to buy some furniture, though.”
“Mine’s a little more complicated than that.” She hesitated a moment then told him about quitting her job, about her condo she had leased out, about her life in New York.
“Answer me this. Do you want to go back to New York and your life there? If there was no you and me, would you do that?”
She thought about it for a long moment before she shook her head.
“Could I talk you into coming down to Florida with me and giving a life there a chance? I don’t know what this is, Mary, but it’s as close to love as I think I’m ever going to get, and I don’t want to lose it.”
“Me, either.” She had certainly not expected this or been prepared for it.
“If you hate it—or me—you can still pack up and leave any time.”
Could she? Would she take that chance on him?
Finally, she nodded, and she saw the tension leave his body.
“How much notice would you have to give Tristan to replace you? I can hang around until you’re done.”
“At least two weeks, but I wouldn’t leave until he gets someone he’s happy with.”
She couldn’t believe she was really going to do this. But there was something about Marcus Fitzgerald Tyree that tugged at her. An unexpected connection she was certain could grow into something good and permanent.
“We’re really going to do this.”
She hadn’t realized she’d said the words out loud until he pulled her into his arms.
“Yes, Mary mine. We’re going to do this. And for the first time in too many years I believe something is absolutely right.”
“Me, too.” She whispered the words.
He licked her bottom lip. “I think we should celebrate.”
She looked at the ground. “Here?”
“Mary.” He heaved a sigh. “I just have to be inside you. Right now.”
“Do you have that quilt with you?”
“No, and I can’t wait until we get back to your place.” He took one of her hands and placed it over his fly where she felt his enormous erection straining to be free.
“So what’s our solution?”
His lips curved in a grin that she could only call hungry and naughty. “Kick off your shoes.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Your shoes. Take them off.”
She did. “Now what?”
He knelt before her and tugged her jeans and panties down her legs then tossed them to the side. He paused long enough to allow himself a long slow lick of her pussy that sent shivers racing through her.
“Wet.” He licked his lips. “Good.”
She didn’t want to tell him she got wet the minute he walked into the pub every night.
Then he ditched his boots, his jeans, and his boxer briefs. He tore open the condom he’d pulled from his jeans pocket and rolled it on his enormously swollen cock.
Mary just stared, at it, at him, and the condom.
“Wow! Just wow!” Then she looked up at him. “You came prepared.”
“I was hopeful. Come here, love.”
Her eyes widened as he straddled the bike seat. When she came closer, he lifted her and slowly lowered her onto his very erect shaft. She felt it filling her, a little at a time, until she was fully seated.
“You wanted a ride,” he reminded her. “I’ll give you the ride of your life. Brace yourself on my shoulders.”
She did, and he helped her set a pace, up and down, slow at first then faster. She gripped his shoulders as she rode him, faster and faster, wanting to make it last but knowing they were both so close, their bodies primed with their emotions. She could tell when he was close because he reached between them for her clit, stroking it hard to help her up that slippery slope.
And then it crashed over them, an orgasm so intense it shocked her. She buried her face in Marcus’s shoulder as they shuddered together, great spasms that left their hearts hammering and their lungs starved for air. He held her tightly, stroking her back as they came down from the high, peppering her face with kisses. Then he sought her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside and drinking from her as their breathing and heart rate returned to normal.
He tilted her face up so he could look directly into her eyes.
“This will work, Mary. I feel it.”
“Me, too.” She grinned. “But I’ll bet it’s going to be one wild ride.”
At that, he threw back his head and laughed. “And I can’t wait to get started.”
Neither could she. Maybe she’d write that book after all.