11. MARCY
MARCY
Icarry Sam upstairs, his little head resting sleepily against my shoulder as he murmurs about not being tired—right before yawning so big, it makes me smile. The stairs creak slightly underfoot as we climb.
CJ hadn’t exactly been thrilled about me staying tonight. His scowl practically burned into my back as I followed Sam upstairs. But whatever. He can grumble all he wants. I’m here, and I’m not about to apologize for existing.
The bedroom is small and cozy, with the walls painted a soft blue and decorated with superhero posters. Glow-in-the-dark stars scatter across the ceiling. I set Sam gently onto his bed, pulling the covers up around him. His eyes flutter open briefly, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.
“You gonna be here in the morning, Marcy?”
I smile, brushing back a strand of his messy hair. “We’ll see, kiddo. Think your dad might run me out of town by sunrise.”
Sam giggles softly, eyes already half-closed. “Nah. He’s not as grumpy as he pretends.”
“Yeah? Could’ve fooled me,” I murmur, smiling despite myself.
“You sing, right?” he murmurs, fighting to keep his eyes open.
I chuckle softly, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Who told you that?”
“Uncle Hawk.” Sam yawns again, eyes drooping. “He says you sound nice. Like a princess or something.”
I grin, shaking my head. “Your uncle has a big mouth.”
But Sam’s looking at me so hopefully, so sweetly, I can’t refuse. My heart squeezes a little at the innocence in his face—the pure trust he’s giving me, someone he barely knows.
Sitting down at the edge of the bed, I hum softly, then start singing a song my mom used to sing to me years ago. I haven’t sung it in forever, but somehow the lyrics come right back, gentle and familiar.
Sam’s eyes drift shut halfway through, his breathing growing slow and deep. My voice trails off as he settles, chest rising and falling gently in peaceful sleep.
I tuck the covers around him, warmth filling my chest. A strange feeling coils inside me—something tender, something protective I never expected to feel here, with these men who are worlds away from the life I’ve always known.
Downstairs, I hear the guys’ voices, muffled laughter, the clink of glasses, cards shuffling. CJ might not want me here, might still look at me like I’m the enemy, but I refuse to let him drive me out.
“Goodnight, kiddo,” I whisper, gently pulling the covers up around his shoulders.
I close Sam’s door softly, turning with a sigh—only to slam straight into a wall of solid muscle.
CJ stands there, massive shoulders squared, his dark eyes simmering with barely restrained fury. I take an instinctive step back, but his expression keeps me rooted in place. He’s furious, every hard angle of his jaw set in uncompromising lines.
“We need to talk,” he growls, voice low and rough, each syllable like the strike of a hammer.
I tilt my chin up, refusing to show intimidation, even though every nerve in my body prickles with warning. “About what?”
“Hawk and Ryder,” he says tightly, leaning closer. “You need to back the hell off.”
My jaw clenches, irritation flaring instantly. “Last I checked, they’re grown men. Not soldiers you can order around. And you need to cool it with the tone, CJ.”
He steps closer, crowding me back toward the opposite wall. His voice drops dangerously low. “Only my friends call me CJ. You call me Mr. Bowes.”
I arch a brow, refusing to back down. “Fine. Mr. Bowes, sir. What exactly do you want to talk about, sir?”
His nostrils flare, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Keep your damn voice down. You’ll wake Sam.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have ambushed me in the hallway, sir,” I retort quietly, emphasizing each syllable.
CJ curses under his breath, grabs my wrist, and pulls me into the nearest room, slamming the door behind us. I don’t even pause to look around; I’m too busy gearing up for the argument that’s clearly been brewing between us.
He crosses his arms, glaring at me like I’m an intruder. In his mind, I probably am. But I’m not going to cower under his fierce stare.
“You think this is funny?” he asks sharply, voice barely controlled.
“No, sir,” I say sweetly, knowing exactly how much it’s pissing him off. “Nothing funny about this at all, sir.”
CJ’s jaw ticks again, anger radiating from him in waves. “You’re trouble. You’re dragging my friends into your mess, and I’m not having it.”
I step forward, meeting his intensity head-on. “Seems to me they’re making their own choices. Maybe you should let them.”
He moves toward me, towering over me in the dim light, his presence overwhelming. My heart pounds, but I hold my ground, refusing to let him see how deeply he affects me.
“Watch yourself, Marcy,” he growls softly, a rough edge in his voice that makes something warm and dangerous twist low in my belly.
I tilt my chin, eyes locked with his. “Or what, sir? You gonna punish me?”
His breath catches, and I feel a dark satisfaction at having rattled him, if only for a moment.
CJ towers over me, his dark eyes burning into mine, shoulders rigid and tense, like he’s fighting every impulse not to shake me. I hold my ground, refusing to back down despite the way my heart slams painfully in my chest.
"You need to stay the hell away from Ryder and Hawk,” he growls, voice rough and commanding. “Stop dragging them into your drama.”
Anger rushes through my veins like fire. I plant my hands on my hips, glaring up at him. “My drama? Are you kidding me? I didn’t drag anyone anywhere. They’re grown-ass men.”
His jaw clenches, the muscle pulsing visibly beneath his skin. “They’re my men, and you’re trouble. You’re Jake Hollingbow’s daughter?—”
I snap, cutting him off before he can continue. “Enough! Stop blaming me for things my father did! You’ve hated me since the second you saw me. Before you even knew my name.”
“I knew exactly who you were,” he snarls. “I’ve seen your type before. Spoiled little rich girl, playing games. Doesn’t matter who gets hurt, as long as Daddy cleans up the mess.”
“You don’t know shit about me. You’ve never even given me a chance.”
His voice rises, raw and heated. “Every time I look at you, Marcy, I see him. Every damn time. I see the reason Sam doesn’t have his father.”
I flinch, caught off guard. His eyes are dark with fury and pain, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The room is suddenly too small.
I freeze, the words hitting me harder than a slap. For the first time, anger fades from my body, leaving me stunned and breathless.
Sam’s father?
I stare up at CJ, confused. His expression is rigid, jaw set tight, the pain behind his eyes impossible to ignore.
“What… what are you talking about?” My voice sounds small even to my own ears, stripped of its usual sass.
CJ looks away, his shoulders rising and falling as if he’s fighting for control. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“No,” I say softly, stepping closer, my voice careful now. “Tell me.”
He glares at me, jaw tense, like I’ve crossed a line. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
CJ’s gaze cuts back to mine, dark, haunted. “Your father played games, dangerous games. Good men paid the price. Sam’s dad—my best friend—paid the ultimate price. So, forgive me if I don’t welcome Jake Hollingbow’s daughter into my club with open fucking arms.”
My mouth goes dry, and my heart pounds painfully in my chest. I knew my father had secrets, things he kept hidden behind the polished veneer he showed the world. But this? Whatever CJ’s hinting at sounds dark, deadly, and personal.
I swallow hard, stepping closer, my voice softer, gentler now. “Tell me what happened.”
CJ just stares at me, his jaw tightening again. “I think you’ve heard enough.”
“No.” I shake my head firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’ve spent my entire life under his thumb, CJ. I deserve to know the truth, no matter how ugly it is.”
He scoffs, as if to say he doesn’t believe me.
“You think you know me because of who my father is?” My voice shakes.
“I didn’t choose him. I sure as hell didn’t choose what he did. But don’t you dare put his sins on me.”
CJ stares down at me, jaw clenched, the muscle twitching furiously. “Every damn time I look at you,” he rasps, voice breaking slightly, “I see why Sam’s father—my best friend—isn’t here. And I hate myself because, despite all that, I can’t stop?—”
He cuts himself off, turning away, fists clenched at his sides. My breath stalls in my chest. The silence stretches unbearably, thick and pulsing between us.
“Can’t stop what?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer.
The air around us hums, alive with an intensity I’ve never felt before. I don’t know whether to slap him or pull him closer, or demand answers, or just?—
God help me, part of me wants him closer. Even now.
I swallow hard, watching the rigid line of his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere, CJ.”
His back stiffens.
“I’m not running away just because you’re determined to hate me,” I continue softly, firm and defiant. “So deal with it.”
Slowly, he turns, eyes locking with mine again. Heated, dangerous, and something else entirely.
“You’re making a mistake,” he murmurs darkly.
“Then it’s mine to make.”
Before I can react, his mouth crashes down on mine—hard, rough, desperate. It’s a kiss born out of anger, frustration, maybe even hatred—but God help me, I lean into it. My hands clutch at his shirt, dragging him closer.
He grips my waist, fingers digging firmly into my hips, pulling me flush against him. Heat bursts through my veins, racing straight to my core, making my entire body tremble.
“Dammit, Marcy,” he growls between kisses. “I shouldn’t fucking want this.”
“Then stop,” I say into his mouth. “If you can.”
His answer is to lift me into his arms like I weigh nothing at all, effortlessly strong as he wraps my legs around his hips.
My breath catches, pulse surging wildly.
I cling to him, thighs squeezing tight around his solid frame, fingers clutching at his broad shoulders as he pushes me firmly against the wall.
He kisses me again, this time deeper, hotter.
Possessive and demanding. His grip tightens, fingers digging into my thighs, holding me flush against him.
I can feel the hardness of his body, the barely restrained tension radiating off him.
Heat flares through me, turning my insides molten, making me shudder against his mouth.
He hates me. He resents me. Yet right now, with every hungry kiss, every bruising touch, CJ is completely and utterly mine.
My legs wrap tighter around him, fingers sliding into his hair, gripping tightly, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
Our bodies collide hard against the wall, a framed picture rattling overhead. It crashes to the floor in a burst of glass, but neither of us even flinches.
CJ growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my mouth. “Damn you,” he murmurs roughly, his grip sliding beneath my thighs to pull me harder against him.
His teeth catch my bottom lip. The bite that makes me gasp, then he soothes it with his tongue. A jolt of white-hot pleasure races down my spine, and I shiver in his arms.
“God, I hate that I want this,” he rasps, voice trembling with intensity.
“Then hate it,” I whisper back, tugging him closer, dragging his mouth to mine again. “Hate me. I don’t care.”
He kisses me harder, a punishing, consuming kiss that leaves me dizzy and breathless.