Chapter 16 Marlowe #2
About the way he slid the real food in front of me like it was non-negotiable.
He might not like me the way I like him, but he definitely likes Mom way less, and I…don’t know what to do with that.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, pushing off the wall.
He looks past my shoulder and his whole body goes subtly tense.
I turn.
Topher stands there, staring at us. “Hey, Marlowe. I saw you and just wanted to say hi.”
Declan lifts a brow, the picture of a relaxed threat. Leashed beast. Sharp teeth hidden behind polite boredom.
Topher swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs.
Before he can say anything else, Declan slides a hand under my arm and heat explodes under my skin. He walks me away from Topher without a word, away from the company, straight toward the SUV waiting outside.
“Are you insane?” I hiss the second the door shuts behind us.
“Now what do you think, Molly girl?” His voice hums with steel. “I pull you out of your self-centered mam’s clutches, get you out of dance—”
“I’m still contracted,” I snap. “If this so-called injury heals, I’ll have to come back. Perform. Smile.”
“Then make sure it doesn’t.”
He’s so completely deadpan I want to slap him. I also want to laugh. Cry. Maybe both.
He’s given me exactly what I wanted—a way out. But it’s on his terms, the same way my life has always been on someone else’s terms.
I fold my arms. “Easier said than done. And you have an agenda.”
“Keeping your spoiled arse breathing, sure. Call that my agenda.”
“You asshole.”
“Do you want to know why I yanked you out of there, Molly girl?” he asks, tugging me onto his lap like I weigh nothing.
His hand slips under my skirt, pushing it up, cool air hitting my lace panties.
“To humiliate me?” I ask.
“To stop that womanizer from sniffing around you right under my damn nose.”
“Topher’s my dance partner.”
“Ex.” His eyes go dark, stormy green pinning me in place. “And you’re turned on.”
My brain fumbles with his words. “By Topher?”
“By me.” His finger traces over my damp panties, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp. “Unless you want him too. Because he definitely wants you.”
“I don’t want him.” My breath hitches. “And he has a girlfriend.”
“Never stopped a man like that,” Declan says.
“You should know.”
The storm in his eyes turns lethal-hot. “I don’t cheat, Molly. No matter what you’ve decided about me. We weren’t together.”
He hooks my panties aside, but he doesn’t touch yet. He just looks.
The driver’s right there. He can see me on Declan’s lap if he looks in the mirror. Hell, he might hear every ragged breath.
I’m…turned on.
By Declan.
By the idea of being seen by the driver.
“Topher’s a good-looking guy,” I say, just to see what happens.
“Topher’s in multiple unmarked graves if he lays a hand on you,” Declan says calmly.
Heat flares low in my belly as his thumb brushes my clit. He tugs the top of my dress down, exposing my breasts like it’s nothing.
“He licked my pussy first,” I say. Now I’m just being reckless.
A beat of silence follows.
“And he—”
“Be careful, Molly girl.” He pulls me down, bites my nipple, his voice a rough whisper against my skin. “I don’t care about your past. But your now? That’s mine. Every last part. Every orgasm. Every first.”
Then he pushes a finger into me, thumb working my clit. Ecstasy curls, warm and tight, my eyes drifting shut…
“We’re here,” the driver announces.
Declan grins, wicked. “Fix your top, Marlowe. We need to talk.”
He slips me off his lap and gets out, leaving me to scramble and cover myself, still shaking.
I hate that I love him edging me. I follow him out of the car on unsteady legs.
My phone buzzes. Leon’s name flashes across the screen.
He’s alive. My heart leaps in my chest. He’s reaching out. And I…
I send the call to voicemail.
Because I’m cold. Heartless. Addicted to the wrong man.
Before I can change my mind, Declan appears next to me. He plucks the phone from my hand and threads our fingers together before dragging me inside.
The pub is Irish with scarred wood, old photos, and a mixed crowd of dangerous and normal. People greet him, nodding their respect. He’s completely at ease.
I glance around for his brothers. No one looks like him.
He sits me at the end of the curved bar. A woman rushes over to talk to him. She puts a hand on his arm like she has a right to be there. I want to claw her eyes out.
I order a whiskey. Straight. Then I tell the bartender to leave the bottle and put it on Declan’s tab.
The tattooed guy in skinny jeans and a Ramones shirt snorts. “Sweetheart, he owns this place.”
“Of course he does.”
I knock back the first shot and pour another. I’m lifting it when a hand closes over my wrist.
His hand. No one else’s feels like that.
“Not on my watch, Molly.”
Declan drops onto the stool beside me and throws back the shot I poured.
His phone is out again, the screen open to a list of names. A woman walks by, leaves an envelope, and keeps moving. He marks off a name and pockets the envelope.
“Work,” he says. “Call it rent collection.” His gaze slides to me. “Now… about your problem. The dead not-cop. The price on your head. I can handle it. But we were together the night we met in Queens.”
“I know.” I glare at him. Another envelope appears, another name vanishes from the list. “I was there.”
He gives me a disappointed look. “No, I mean together. You came with me. Trust me on this.”
“On what?”
“When the time comes, you’ll know.”
He checks his watch. From here I can see one name left on the list: Ernie. The rest look like Sesame Street characters, all neatly crossed off.
He sighs and pockets the phone. “Joe, I’ll be in my office. Send anyone looking for me back there.”
Then he takes my hand again and pulls me down the hall, past the bathrooms, to a door marked Manager.
Inside is…not what I expected.
Armchair. Desk. A couple of chairs. A crate as a coffee table with a bottle on top. Shelves of books.
Homey. With a blood-soaked edge.
“Is this where you take your victims?” I ask. “And where’s my father?”
“I don’t know where he is,” Declan says, sweeping a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure your mam knows exactly either, but she knows something.”
“She can’t.”
“Oh, she can. And I’m working on it,” he cuts in.
“Along with keeping you breathing. The very fact you’re supposedly married to me is part of that plan.
There might be a target on your back and rumors about shit you’ve supposedly done, but no one will touch you unless they want to suffer a lot of Murphy pain. ”
I hate myself a little for understanding his meaning. Daddy might not want to be found. Or someone doesn’t want him found. Or he’s—
Dead.
My stomach twists as Declan opens a safe and pulls out a stack of envelopes, checking each one.
“Who’s Ernie?” I ask.
“Jay-sus, Molly.” He doesn’t look up. “A client. Someone who pays for our services. He missed his monthly payment.”
“Maybe he’s just late.”
He shuts the safe and walks over to me. He tilts my chin up. “Late has consequences. Late with no word is a message. I don’t ignore messages.”
He doesn’t sound proud. Just… tired. Deadly. Responsible.
I almost get it. The weight of being him.
So naturally, I go for the soft spot.
“Is she one of your whores?” I ask.
His brows lift. “Who are you talking about, Molly?”
“The woman who had her hand on you earlier.”
He laughs. “Jealous?”
“No.”
“Yes, you are.” He starts guiding me backward, and my pulse jumps. “I didn’t bring you here for that.”
“The fact you’re saying it means you did,” I mutter, not even sure why I’m poking the bear. Only that I can’t seem to stop.
“Don’t put words in my mouth.” His voice is a warning. “June’s the bar manager. Nothing more.”
He brushes his mouth over mine. Light. Teasing. A spark to a fuse. I moan before I can stop myself. I want him. I want to ride him, use him, leave him wrecked.
“But…” I manage.
He spins me and bends me over the desk. The edge hits my clit through my dress, sending a jolt of sensation racing through me.
His zipper hisses. “Maybe you need to be punished for insubordination. You’re with me so I can keep you safe, and all you’re thinking about is cock.”
“Liar,” I gasp.
“Oh, pretty Molly…” He drags my panties aside and nudges my slick folds with the blunt head of his cock. “You’re the fucking liar.”
His palm cracks against my ass. It’s a sharp sting, bright heat blooming inside of me. Everything in me is on high alert.
Then he thrusts into me with one hard push, stretching me wide. Deep. The angle has him hitting something inside that makes my eyes roll back.
“No more Mr. Nice Guy,” he says.
But my heart twists. He’s lying. Declan’s not nice like sunshine. He’s nice like a perfectly controlled fire. He pushes right up to the line and dances on it.
“Boring,” I say, fingers clawing at the desk as he pounds into me. The dull ache turns to a greedy, needy ache. “You’re boring.”
“Oh, I am,” he grunts. “I’m boring into you, drilling you. And you’re a fucking goddess.”
He bites the back of my neck and pleasure cascades down my spine.
It’s hard and fast and filthy. I’m soaked, getting wetter, and I still want more. He pulls almost all the way out, then drives back in and holds there, keeping me right on the edge.
“Oh,” someone says behind us.
My head jerks up, a gasp catching in my throat.
“We’ve got an audience,” Declan grits in my ear, pulling back and slamming into me again.
My body goes nuclear. I clamp down on him, eyes locked on June in the doorway as I shatter, the orgasm ripping me apart.
I come again when his cock swells and spills into me, hot pulses deep inside, setting off another wave.
By the time my eyes clear, the door’s closed. She’s gone.
Declan pulls out slowly, leaving me sprawled across the desk, breathless. “I knew you liked being watched.”
“Asshole,” I manage.
“I didn’t invite her.”
“Asshole,” I repeat, trying to stand. My legs aren’t entirely on board.
A phone buzzes. I swallow hard when Declan pulls mine out of his pocket. His jaw clenches tight when his eyes drop to the screen. I bite down on my lower lip.
To Leon’s name flashing.
“Marlowe.”
The way he says my name cuts through the euphoric fog. It’s sharp and serious.
His next words drop like a brick.
“Why the fuck would Leon be calling you after my brothers and I made it damn clear that he needs to stay the hell away from you??
He says it like a question.
But we both know it’s a lot more like a threat.