Off Limits (Damaged Hearts #4)

1. Marcus

1

Marcus

“When I die, I want to come back as a pair of gym sweatpants,” a feminine voice purrs behind me. “Gray sweatpants specifically.”

Another female chuckles. “What?”

There’s a brief pause, and then she gasps. “Oh.”

I glance down at my grey sweatpants.

“With red stitching on the back pockets,” the first female goes on, her voice raised higher.

A gentle smirk teases the corners of my mouth as I throw the damp towel over my broad shoulder and turn around, meeting the blonde’s flirty smile.

“I wouldn’t mind coming back as a tank top either.” She leans her head to one side, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “A red one.”

Her chin tilts as I close the distance between us, my six-and-a-half feet towering over her. “Didn’t your mother warn you about talking to strangers, little girl?”

“Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t,” she teases back. My eyes fall to where she’s drawing a finger along the hem of her cropped workout top. “Or maybe I like flirting with danger, especially it’s tall and dark with hazel eyes and tattoos.”

“Yeah, until you bite off more than you can chew.” I inch closer.

She takes a step back, or tries to, but the narrow walkway between the gym equipment makes it impossible. The mischievous gleam fades from her eyes, replaced by a spark of interest as she mumbles, “Sounds like you’re quite a handful.”

“Maybe,” I reply, my smirk widening.

It’s right there on her face. She’s curious. She wants to find out what I mean, and I’m just as tempted to show her. My Porsche is right outside in the parking lot, my penthouse suite a few blocks away. Twenty minutes from now, she could be in my bed.

Or on my living room floor.

Or the kitchen counter.

Or all of the above.

She only needs to say the word.

Her left hand rises, and she combs her hair with her fingers, messing it up a bit. A sparkly glint makes my eyes narrow, and I zone in on the oversized diamond on her finger. My smirk fades into a wry smile as I take a step back.

“Enjoy your workout,” I say.

Dabbing my curly, short hair with the towel, I walk back to the leg extension machine I’d been working on a few minutes ago. My friends say I’m a dog, but even I wouldn’t go that far. Married women are totally off limits.

I’m almost done with my set when a loud squeal suddenly pierces the air. I push myself to stand as the blonde gets yanked from off a treadmill by a bald-headed guy with a thick, dark beard.

“Is this the coffee run, you sneaky bitch?” he thunders, pushing her ahead of him .

She staggers then regains her balance. Even from where I stand, I can see the fear stamped on her face. “I said we were going for a run, baby,” she replies, her voice shaky. Her friend looks just as scared, her fingers nervously twisting her cherry-red hair.

“A run, huh?” The guy drags his hand up and down her frame. “You didn’t leave the house dressed for a run. You certainly weren’t wearing these.”

“I thought you were done keeping tabs on me,” she says shakily. “You can’t keep treating me like some goddamn—”

Whack!

My body flinches as the slap cracks through the air. The entire gym goes still, all eyes now locked on the cowering woman and the enraged man towering over her, his hand raised, clearly getting ready to land another hard slap.

A surge of fury floods my system, and my hands curl into tight fists as I battle with the urge to move forward. Don’t, Marcus. It’s not your fight.

“I’m going to ask you only once, Sarah. Where did you get those clothes?” the guy demands as I take a deep breath and settle back on the machine.

Her friend steps between them. “I lent them to her, Jonathan—”

“Shut the fuck up, Lindsay. I wasn’t talking to your dumb ass.”

He jabs a finger right in Lindsay’s face. She jerks her head back, and he misses her eye by an inch. I grind my teeth, my biceps tightening as I grasp the machine handles.

Jonathan whips back to Sarah. “I’m sick and tired of you disrespecting me, you fucking bitch. You want to embarrass me in public, huh? Forget your wedding vows and fuck around with other men?”

He grabs a handful of her hair until she whimpers. The entire gym goes silent again, the only sound the gentle buzz of the air conditioner and the pop music in the background. I pause, my grip tightening on the handles.

“I’m going to fuck you up, you whore. No other man will touch you with a ten-foot pole when I’m done with you.”

Sarah screams when he yanks her by the hair then shoves her hard. She falls to the floor, skidding across the tiles.

Oh, fuck it.

Shooting to my feet, I lunge toward them, but someone steps right in my way.

“Don’t even think about it,” the petite brunette mutters sternly, pressing her tiny palm against my broad chest.

“Think about what? I’m just going to talk to him.”

Lauren Cain scoffs loudly, the cynicism in her golden-brown eyes telling me how much she believes me. “That look on your face tells a different story, Marcus. You’re going to talk with those fists, not your mouth, and we both know what those fists can do.”

While she’s talking, two guys move to subdue Jonathan while Lindsay helps Sarah from the floor. The gym manager has also arrived and pulls a sobbing Sarah aside.

“See, the situation is being handled. Stand down, soldier,” Lauren orders.

I look down at her stern stare—or, should I say, an attempted stern stare. Though the corners of her mouth are turned down, there’s way too much cheerfulness in her eyes. Then again, I’ve never seen Lauren anything but cheerful.

“Fine. I’m standing down.”

“Good.” Her slender fingers drag down my chest as she releases her hold on me. “I’d rather finish my workout than bail you out of jail.”

My eyes are still locked on the drama as I back away. Jonathan struggles against his human bonds, his violent expression latched on a sobbing Sarah. Hell will rain down on her the second they let him go.

“Marcus. ”

I hear the warning in Lauren’s tone. “What?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Glancing down at her, I see her frowning again. This time, there’s no sparkle in her eyes. “It’s not your fight.”

“He’s going to hurt her.”

“Corey just told her to call the cops,” Lauren replies, referring to the gym manager. “Let’s hope she actually listens.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then we say a prayer and hope for the best.” She swings her finger at the leg machine. “You sit your butt down and finish your workout, Marcus Brady. Gabriel will never forgive me if I let you get into trouble.”

Her last words trigger a smirk. “ Let me get into trouble ?” I repeat. “As if.”

“Are you saying I can’t stop you?” she challenges, arms crossed.

My eyes run over her body in slow motion, taking in the pair leggings and tank top that hugs her curvy figure. “You’re one hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet,” I point out.

Lauren punches my arm then pulls back with a wince. “Ouch.”

“Yup. I rest my case.”

I take her hand. Except for a slight redness on her knuckles, it seems fine, and I give it a squeeze before letting go. She opens her mouth to say something but gets cut off by an exclamation from across the room. I look over, gaping as Sarah steps into Jonathan’s arms to embrace.

“See?” Lauren gives me a gentle shove in the side. “Are you going to thank me now? I literally saved you from a criminal record.”

Speechless, I watch as they stroll out arm in arm. With a headshake, I walk over to the next workout machine.

“You owe me one,” Lauren says with a satisfied grin as I sit down.

“Fine. Name it, and it’s yours,” I mutter, gripping the handlebars .

My thick brows gently lift as she leans toward me. “You already know what I want, Marcus.”

“Uh-uh.” My response shoots out immediately. “Anything but that .”

Lauren frowns. “Seriously? You literally just told me I can have whatever I want.”

“And I’m taking it back. Anything but that,” I repeat. I give her a look that clearly states it’s not up for discussion. Her beautiful face scrunches into a frown.

“Marcus—”

“No. Gabriel would skin me alive, and I don’t feel like dying anytime soon.”

“My brother doesn’t need to know.”

“I said no,” I reply, firmer this time.

Lauren crosses her arms, giving me a look that usually makes me melt for her, but it’s not working now. She’s not the six-year-old I’d steal an extra cookie for, or the ten-year-old for whom I’d convince Gabriel to let join our little summer excursions. I’m still wrapped around her little finger, ready for whatever she needs, but I have boundaries. There are some lines I won’t cross. I won’t do anything that could potentially harm her.

“Stop looking at me like that.” I jerk my head toward the treadmill she’d been pounding on before the altercation. “Go finish your workout. I’ll buy you a double-blended frap when we’re done, how about that?”

She smiles a little when I mention her favorite drink, yet she mumbles, “That’s not enough compensation, but I’ll take it.”

“Throw that fender bender in, and we’re even,” I call after her.

Lauren whips around. “That was six months ago, so it doesn’t count. You still owe me.”

I chuckle softly, my eyes following Lauren as she storms over to the treadmill. She knows I owe her nothing. Quite the contrary—after all the scrapes I’ve rescued her from over the years, I think she owes me .

Not that I’d ever collect. She’s not only my best buddy’s little sister, but she’s like family to me. I’ve known Lauren since she popped out of the womb.

For the next half an hour, I focus on my chest workout while keeping an occasional eye on Lauren, a promise I made to Gabriel when she decided to join the gym a few months ago. Lauren thinks her brother is being overprotective and she can handle herself, but she has been sheltered all these years, from private schools to being chauffeured everywhere. She doesn’t know these streets like I do. Raised by a single dad on the poorer side of Brooklyn, I know where all the monsters lurk.

Finally done with my workout, I towel down and grab my bag from a private locker in the back. There’s an option to shower in the luxurious stalls this upscale gym provides, but I prefer the privacy of my own home. Lauren doesn’t mind using them, though, which leaves me answering work emails as I wait another half hour until she’s ready. After a few minutes, I close my email and pull up the video of a boxing match I’d been wanting to watch. It’s my first Saturday off in months, and I shouldn’t be handling any work today.

Lauren soon returns in a half-jog, her dark hair now hanging loose and damp over her shoulders, her plump cheeks rosy. Instead of the leggings and tank top she’d been wearing earlier, she’s now dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

“Ready to go?” she asks.

I shift my eyes from her shapely legs. “No, I’m actually very comfortable on this couch. Think I’ll sit here forever.”

Lauren snorts .

I chuckle back, and as I rise, I take her gym bag. Lauren opens her mouth like she’s ready to argue, but then she clamps it shut. She’s used to this. She will never carry a burden as long as she’s with me. Or her brother. Or our friend Noah. Add her dad to the mix, and she’s got a small army of men who won’t let a strand of hair land on her.

Twenty-six years we’ve been a fence around her, and that will never stop.

She slips her arm through mine as we exit the automatic sliding doors of the gym. The crisp morning air teases my bare arms, decorating my light-brown skin with goosebumps. There’s nothing like waking before sunrise on a weekend to get a few hours in at the gym. There’s also nothing like hanging out with my only female friend.

“Do you ever think of stopping?” Lauren asks as we head up the sidewalk toward Café Noire , our usual hangout spot whenever we work out together.

“Stopping what?”

“Hooking up with random women.”

“You’re asking me that because…?”

“I saw you flirting with that girl earlier,” Lauren says. “What if that guy had showed up while you were still with her?”

I shrug.

“Seriously, Marcus. What if he had a gun?”

“He wouldn’t have had a chance to use it. You know that.”

She stops abruptly, facing me with a serious expression. “And if he did? You’re not the only one with defensive fighting skills. What if he knew mixed martial arts too and had a gun? What would you do then?”

I can’t help laughing. “You’ve always had an overactive imagination, and you worry without real cause.”

“And you don’t worry enough. I’ve been around since day one, remember? I’ve heard about—and seen—the holes you had to dig yourself out of. ”

“That wouldn’t have been one of them,” I assure her. “Rule number one: I don’t mess with married women.”

“I know that, but—”

I grab her shoulders. “Baby girl, I’m flattered you’re so worried about me, but I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.” Thanks to my dad, now retired from the NYPD, who introduced me to self-defense techniques when I was six years old.

She doesn’t appear convinced. “If you say so.”

“You are the one who needs protection, not me,” I reply, nudging her to keep going.

“Which I wouldn’t need if you’d give me what I want,” she argues.

“We’ve been doing this back-and-forth for six months, Lauren. I’m not teaching you MMA. It’s too violent.”

“The entire world is violent. Isn’t that what you boys always say?”

“Right, and we’re here to protect you from all that violence.”

She gives me an exasperated glare, stopping so abruptly that a guy almost runs into my back. He mutters a curse and skirts around us.

“I’m not a kid anymore. I wish you all would see that. You won’t be around me all the time. Wouldn’t it make sense I can take care of myself?” Lauren says.

I sigh, because she has a point, but I promised Gabriel, and I won’t go back on my word. “Look, I can’t stop you from learning, but I can’t teach you. There are several trainers in the city you can use. I’ll look other way.”

“I don’t want a stranger touching me. I want you.”

My hand gently presses against her lower back as I nudge her to keep moving, while shutting down my body’s response to those last three words. “I’ll think about it.”

“You said that the last time. ”

And I’ll keep saying it until she gets the message, whenever that is. Lauren can be a persistent one. She can be quite convincing too, which explains why she has had three fender-benders within a year that her family knows nothing about. She has sworn me to secrecy, and I’ll keep that vow until I die.

Which will be easy, since I’m great at holding secrets to my chest.

The café is half-empty when we enter, and I order Lauren’s favorite while getting a latte for myself. “Up for a round or two of mortal combat?” she asks as we exit the store. “I have an appointment in the afternoon, but I’m free until then.”

“Raincheck?” I reply. “I kind of made other plans.”

Lauren rolls her eyes. “Something tells me those plans include a pair of long legs. Or two.”

“Three,” I clarify, grinning.

“Such a whore,” she mutters.

I chuckle, opening her door. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“The game will still be going strong when you’re old and lonely. Remember that.”

Lonely? I almost laugh at the thought. I’ll never be lonely. Ten years ago, maybe, when I was a broke college kid living on my best friend’s handouts, but not now, when I’m worth millions. Even when I’m old, the women will still be flocking to me.

“Seriously, Marcus, don’t you ever think about settling down?” Lauren asks while securing her seatbelt. “You’ll be thirty years old in a few months.”

“I will, when pigs fly,” I reply.

She gives me a long, speculative stare, then scoffs. “She really did a solid number on you.”

At the mention of my ex, the smile fades from my face. Lauren grimaces. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up—”

“Don’t worry about it. Get home safe, okay?”

I close the car door, cutting off her reply and making my way three cars up where I’m parked. Harper Ryan . Like always, a simple remark concerning her does unpleasant things to my stomach. My ego still hasn’t recovered from being betrayed by the woman I thought would be my wife.

My heart hasn’t recovered, either.

I shouldn’t get upset over something that happened six years ago, but I am. I hate being reminded of the one vulnerable time in my life. Years wasted. Time I can never recover. A mistake I can’t undo. Lauren knows better than to bring up the worst period I’ve ever endured.

The journey from the gym to my apartment takes about ten minutes, and I’m soon pulling into the underground garage and entering the code for the private lift that takes me to the penthouse suite I’d bought two years ago, right after I became a multi-millionaire. Running the IT arm of the development company I co-own with my two friends has done well for my net worth.

A shower, some takeout, and the company of two blondes I’d met in that very same gym last week; those are my plans for today. Also, rest. Well, from my conversations with those women, I doubt there’ll be much sleeping happening tonight—

Wait a minute.

I catch his scent even before the elevator doors fully open. The earthy undertones of that herbal cologne sends me right back to my childhood days. I step from the lift with a smile thrown at the most important person in my life, happy to see him in person for the first time in three months.

“Dad—”

He straightens on the velvet couch, and my smile fades.

“Are you okay?” I ask, concern filling me as I step forward. Stupid question .

My dad gently pats the space beside him. “Sit down, son,” he mutters. “There’s something I need to tell you.”