That thought plagued me now as I drove my car down the busy streets towards the Corner Velvet. Kite and Marina were following in his orange Mercedes, leaving me alone with my buzzing mind.
Seeing them both wrapped up together, how red her lips had been in their desperate 'o' shape... The memory made me shift in the seat, proving I could steer the car and steer my painful erection at the same time.
Marina was a cannonball crashing into my world—our world. She threatened everything Kite and I had spent our existence building. Hell, we'd been on the verge of retiring when she'd shown up and told us she knew we were hitmen.
From that moment, the plan was clear. We needed to get the letter she had that proved who we were, the one thing tying us to her.. the thing that could put us behind bars. After that?
Marina had to die.
No loose ends.
My knuckles had gone milky white on the steering wheel. Someone honked; I jerked forward on the road, baffled by my distraction.
Imagining what had to be done to this lovely, amazing girl that I wanted to grab and taste and hear scream for me, it turned me sour.
Marina could destroy us. One simple word or mistake, and she'd ruin everything.
Knowing that risk, I do stupid things like agree to give her a chance at proving she can be trusted.
That she can be allowed to live.
I tensed, recalling that day. Kite had demanded we give her the revenge she deserved. He'd argued we could risk leaving her alive. I'd agreed, but under one condition; she had to prove her trust.
I hadn't yet decided how that would happen. That was unlike me, too. I was quick with plans and details. Surely, I'd come up with something. Instead, I'd been dragging my feet, delaying the process.
It's because, if I make the decision, it becomes real. She has a chance to fail.
I wasn't ready for that. This limbo was... easier.
I should have been colder, but Marina was a new sun, warming the blackness in my heart.
Pushing out of the car after I parked it in the alley, I straightened my tie. Marina... how are you so firmly in my veins? She'd grown like a tumor, I feared ejecting her from our lives would rupture something irreplaceable.
And that was partly why, seeing her and Kite going at it, I'd snapped.
Deep down, I wanted to be involved in their morning fun. But while they might have had the time to finish, I didn't have the time to jump in.
So I'd stopped them. Was that jealousy?
No, I told myself, musing over the realization. It's greed.
I ached to watch Marina come, but I wanted to be part of it. I needed to see her thrill with lust, and not from the sidelines. Plus, I told myself, nudging through the backdoor of my bar, Forcing her to wait will make it that much more exciting for her. For all of us.
Scanning the room, I shook my head in surprise. Anabelle hadn't mentioned that she'd bailed last night before cleaning up. Had her illness hit her that hard, even then?
There were glasses and empty bottles all over the place, the dark wood of the booths and tables sticky in the pale lights. I wandered behind the bar, knew with one glance that nothing had been refilled or washed.
Kite's voice rang out a second after he kicked the door open. “Shit, it's a wreck in here!”
Peering over at them both, I did a scan of Marina that ate up the vision of her in a mere blink. She'd managed to clean up some, but she still wore curve-hugging jeans and a top so tight it enhanced the shape of her delicious breasts.
Her face, though, her energy; she had that casual, tousled, just rolled out of bed look that people struggled to create. Except, for her, it was reality.
She'd tied her long, thick hair up in a tail, some pieces loose and framing her toffee skin. I committed all of it to memory, blaming it on my hitman history.
Clearing my throat, I started to peel back the cuffs of my expensive shirt. “Anabelle is very sick. So sick, it looks like she left in a whirl last night. We'll need to clean everything as fast as we can.”
Kite sighed, ruffling his hair with one hand as the other hooked casually in his jeans. “You couldn't have just told me that earlier? Fuck. Okay. That means she isn't coming in tonight?”
“I doubt she will.” Running water in the sink, I started piling glasses. “I'll make some calls. It's last minute, but maybe I can find a replacement bartender.”
Marina came my way, slipping around to join me. “Let me help,” she said, dipping her hands into the suds.
“You're sure?” I asked.
“I'm not going to stand around and watch you guys work,” she said, giving me a sly glance. “I don't know how to run this place and I definitely can't bartend, but I'm capable of washing some glasses.”
Marina could have easily gone for a walk, left us to take care of our own troubles.
But that wasn't her.
Nodding, I said, “Thank you.”
I was rewarded with a flush of pink along her neck. I loved it.