4. Andrew
FOUR
Andrew
“ C all me sweetheart one more time, motherfucker…” Beth says as soon as I’ve ushered her into my hotel room and have secured the door behind me.
“And what? You’ll steal more of my money?”
“I’d have never stolen any if you hadn’t stolen my jobs,” she snaps.
“You’re going to give it all back.” Lifting her over my shoulder, I haul her into the bathroom. She doesn’t go easy, of course. My solar plexus will likely bloom with bruises by the end of the night. She could have gotten loose if she really wanted to. Unceremoniously, I drop her to her feet in the shower and turn the water on.
She still has brain matter stuck in her hair, so she needs this. However, it’s the sound of running water I really want. It’s not likely this room is bugged, but I’m not a very trusting man.
“Asshole,” she says as she shivers in the water. I turn the knob to warm it up, then strip my shoes and pants off. She stills when I thumb off my boxer briefs. “What are you doing?”
“Joining you, so we can talk.”
“We can do that with clothes on,” she says, her eyes darting down, then quickly back up. Beth likes to look at me despite how much she hates me. I like her looking, despite how much I want to hold her head under water.
“Keep yours on then.” I grab the small bottle of hotel shampoo and drop some on the crown of her head. “Wash and listen. Those jobs you think I stole were personal. They should have always been mine.”
“Why?”
“Maclain sucked my little sister, Franny, into his world. She was barely twenty-one but looked younger. Fresh faced and na?ve,” I tell her, pausing to swallow down my own guilt. I should have taken better care of her, taught her about the dangers of the world, how to protect herself. I took it for granted, I took her safety for granted. “She died before I found her.”
“Andrew.” Her voice is soft, her eyes sad as I tilt her head back to rinse out the shampoo.
“Don’t fucking pity me.” I don’t deserve that, nor do I want it. I’d rather she rage at me for being stupid enough to let my sister fall into such a trap. “I’ve spent every day since her disappearance on a mission to make everyone involved pay. Those jobs? Were men who were involved. That money you took? Was my ticket to a seat at the table with The Agency.”
“I didn’t know.”
My hand finds her throat, small beneath my palm. Her pulse is wild under her skin. I walk her back against the tiled wall.
“You delayed everything,” I say through gritted teeth. My fingers tighten. She’s not scared. Instead, she looks curious. “I should have had him a year ago. I could have saved so many.”
“You should have told me,” she snarls. “I would have helped.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t even know me,” she snaps back.
“I know you, Celine Dumont. I may be the only person who does,” I say, studying every reaction that passes through her eyes. Her mouth opens as if to argue but she doesn’t say a single word. She pushes her head forward, and I feel the heartbeat stronger in my hand. That’s when I see the angry red marks left there earlier. It’s when I realize just how close she may have been to losing the fight against Lyle. Like Franny.
Abruptly, I step back, removing my hands from her. Removing myself from her space.
“How do you know that?”
“I bought my way in. I’m part of The Agency now. Not the position I wanted. I don’t have the power I hoped for. It’s something, though.”
“You’ve seen my file.” I’ve memorized it. I’ve read through it day after day. I’m obsessed with it. So I nod. “Then tell me what you know about me.”
“Everything. Where and when you were born, where you grew up. That your best friend in first grade was a neighbor named Laura, and you were distraught when she moved away the following year. You missed school because of it. Your father had a four-year affair with a co-worker, Mona, until your mother found out and threatened to leave him with you in tow. You lost your virginity at fifteen to a boy two years older than you. When you found out he had a girlfriend, you knocked him out before his state championship football game,” I rattle off. “I know everything .”
The slap she lays on me stings my cheek. I take it though.
“I didn’t know that about my father,” she spits.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, honestly. Family means a lot to me; I don’t have much of it. Neither does she.
“If you know everything, then you know the kind of person I am. The kind I’ve always been.”
She shivers, her clothes drenched and the water cools. It dawns on me that she’s hurt. Not physically, though, she’s had a rough night there, too. Emotionally, I’ve caused her pain. I didn’t know I was capable.
Or maybe that’s not true. Because she’s right, I do know the kind of person she is. She’s the woman who even as a girl stood up for anyone she thought was being wronged. A protector at heart. Much like me. She’s loyal, she’s passionate, she’s feral when she feels she’s been wronged. I treat that like her sin when it’s anything but.
“You stole from me. I needed that money.” The words no longer hold any fire.
Beth…Celine turns her back to me and adjusts the water temperature. Then she removes her clothes. Her shoes land outside the shower with a wet thump. Every stitch she wore follows as I stare. Even bruised and beaten, she’s fucking beautiful. Her wet strands curtain around her pale, ample breasts. Matching freckles dot her cheeks and shoulders.
My cock takes notice and hardens, remembering what it was like to be inside her. Wanting it again.
Needing it.
Needing her .
“I would have given it back,” she says, stepping up to me. “I would have given you more. Whatever you needed. I would have given you everything. All you had to do was ask. You could have had a partner.”
Skin to skin, I breathe her in. Feel her and the words she speaks.
“You hate me,” I say.
“Only like you hate me.”
Which is to say not at all. I don’t hate her, I want to throttle her, but that isn’t really her fault. It’s mine.
“You’re a pain in my ass.”
“It’s a nice ass,” she says with a smirk before the fire of her temper returns. “We could be a team. We could have always been a team in this. Instead, you chose to be a stupid, stubborn, dumbass man, Andrew.”
I let that sink in. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about wanting, a teammate. I’d like to be able to rely on someone though. Truthfully, I always could on her. Even after we stole from each other, she never failed to show up on a job. She’s the best partner I’ve ever worked with, in that regard. Celine’s the most talented woman I know. Fuck, she’s more talented than any man I know.
“Franklin.”
“What?” She blinks in disbelief. “Frank? Your name is Frankie?”
“You can keep calling me Andrew,” I say, ignoring her teasing and lifting her up by her ass. “But only if you’re screaming it.”
She wraps her legs around my waist, grinding her core against my dick. Her hands cradle the back of my head, bringing us nose to nose. I rub mine against hers, press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and nip at her chin.
I slide into her. So much better than I remember.
She whimpers, her forehead falling against mine.
“I’ve had dreams about your dick.” Unbidden, a laugh bursts out of me. I can’t remember the last time I laughed or felt happy, elation, relaxation. “Did you just laugh?”
“No.”
“I won’t ask for all your secrets,” she says, pulling the hair at the back of my head hard enough to demand my attention. “I certainly won’t give you all of mine. No lies though, Frankie. Not when we’re like this.”
“When my cock is inside your perfect cunt?”
“When we’re raw. Bared to each other. When you’re about to get me out of this cold shower and fuck me senseless against every surface this hotel room has.” I get us out of the shower, wrap her in a towel, and follow as she leads me to the bed. She stops at the foot of the bed and looks up to me. “What was her name? Your sister?”
“Franny,” I say around the lump in my throat. Maybe now I can deal with the emotions surrounding losing her. Now that my vengeance has been sated some. Maybe I can let myself feel something different, something new.
“I’m sorry you lost her,” she says, sweetly and genuinely. She raises to her toes to press a kiss to the underside of my chin. “If there’s more blood to spill, let me be by your side when you do it.”
“You are the most feral person I’ve ever known.” I gather her wet hair into my fist, tugging her face further up to mine.
“Thank you,” she preens, and again, I laugh.
And then I kiss her like I haven’t since that night in Paris. Intimate but hungry. A battle but a dance, that she meets me in step for step. Celine climbs my body, and we topple on the bed. I maneuver her so she’s finally underneath me.
I’m inside her, thrusting and loving the way she doesn’t hold back when she digs a heel into my thigh or scrapes her nails down my side. She keens, she mewls, she tells me when she needs more.
“Harder, like you still hate me.”
I never did.
It was a lie, but this isn’t.
I don’t relent, I can’t. Not when the drag of my dick against her walls makes my eyes roll back. Or when she seals her mouth to mine and steals my oxygen, making me lightheaded. It only makes me feel everything more—her moans are sweeter, her skin impossibly softer, and the way she pushes back at me more fucking mind-blowing.
She’s insatiable.
“Oh, fuck. I need to come,” she cries.
I roll us over, letting her ride me wildly. Letting her find her rhythm, her spot. All while I tease her body with my fingers and tongue. She shoves a breast in my mouth, and I bite, playfully at first and then a bit harder.
She shatters and convulses in pleasure. Her cunt grips me so tight it pulls me over the edge with her. It’s a rush… this, her. This whole night. When she falls on top of me, our bodies warm and slick with effort and sweat, I feel more at peace than I have since Franny vanished.
Part of it is that Lyle is finally dead. A bigger part is the woman twirling my hair like it gives her comfort. I know I’m not alone, not as long as she’s in my life.
“Don’t fall asleep,” she says. “I’ll want a round two once my blood stills.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart. Ugh—” I groan from the punch to my gut she delivers.
Some things never change.
Some things I’m grateful for never changing.