Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

The Second

Marcus

When it was almost too late, Marcus pulled out of Daisy’s mouth and got to his knees in their bed.

Her torso shot up so she was on her knees, too.

Her eyes also narrowed and she snapped, “I wasn’t done!”

Marcus hooked her with his arm around her waist, felt her surprised, breathy cry carve through his throbbing cock as he lifted her up and swung her in front of him.

He turned them so her back was to the headboard.

One arm around her, his other hand guiding the way, he slid her down on him.

Her head fell back, her hair brushing his arm.

He fell forward, on top of her. Her platinum hair all over his pillows, he lifted an arm to brace his hand against the headboard and he started moving.

She focused with effort on him.

“You’re done,” he growled.

She gave him a dazed grin.

He kissed her.

Five minutes later, he made her come.

A minute after that, she gave him the same.

* * * *

It had been three days since they’d consummated their relationship.

Three days Marcus gave Daisy to get used to this change. Three days Marcus gave himself to watch over her and make sure she was good with the change.

And three days for him to get over being pissed she’d tried to leave him.

She was good with the change if the amount, variety, and magnificence of the sex was anything to go by.

He wasn’t complaining. Weeks with her in his life and the last of those with her sweet little body, beautiful face, and all that gorgeous damned hair sleeping beside him in his bed had been torture. He was fucking thrilled it was over.

Obviously because the torture was over.

But mostly because Daisy was good with it.

However, to be certain, he’d called Bex and discussed the change with her.

“It’s a process,” she’d explained. “Some people adjust. Some people it takes longer. Some people let it haunt them. If you perceive this is going well, just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Be watchful. Encourage her to communicate. And be patient. She’ll never be over this, Mr. Sloan. I think you understand this isn’t a bruise that fades away. It’s coming to the understanding that what happened, happened. It was no fault of hers. Then learning how to cope with the fact it happened and giving herself permission to move on. That’s the key. But if you can show her you’re a man who’ll handle her with care, that you’ll be there in those times she needs to cope, then I have every faith you two will be good.”

One thing Marcus knew, Daisy could cope with anything.

The thing he didn’t know was if she knew he would always be there to help.

So right then, after they’d shared what they’d shared on a night when she didn’t have to work so they had all night to get through what he needed them to get through, he was going to make certain she knew that.

“We need to talk,” he declared.

She stopped tracing patterns on his chest with a pearl-white fingernail that had a pink tip with a swirl of black across it, the black embedded with rhinestones.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him.

“Uh-oh,” she mumbled the minute she did.

Marcus tightened his arm around her at his side and pulled her over his chest.

Then he clamped his other arm around her.

“I’m thinkin’ this is a serious talk, you need me fixed to your chest,” she kept mumbling, her eyes aimed at his chin.

“This is serious, darling, so please look at me while you listen to me.”

She looked into his eyes.

She was holding her body stiffly and Marcus wanted to shake her.

She was preparing for the worst.

This shouldn’t be a surprise, not with the life she’d led.

However, Daisy lost it with him taking his time completing them. The operative part of that was taking his time.

She was far from dumb.

And he’d taken his time and taught her better.

Holding his patience, he stated, “I handle you with care.”

She stared at him.

“Have I ever not done that?” he asked.

“No,” she said slowly.

“So you know that.”

“Yes.”

“So why are you tensed and looking freaked out?”

“Uh…I don’t know, because you’re freaking me out.”

“How am I doing that?”

“You’re bein’ real serious and we just had a fun time, sugar. After fun times don’t come serious times. After fun times there’s cuddling and whispers which lead to kissing and groping and then more fun times. Unless you’re sleepy, then they lead to sleepy times. They don’t lead to serious times.”

A variety of things with Daisy would be a lot easier if she wasn’t so goddamned cute.

“You don’t use your last name,” he announced.

She stared at him again.

“Smithie’s got it on your employment records but you don’t use it. Ever. None of the girls know it. None of the bouncers. Waitresses. Nobody.”

“Well, I’m Daisy like Cher’s Cher and Charo is Charo. But I’m more like Charo. She has better hair…and cleavage.”

Yes, a variety of things would be easier if Daisy wasn’t so fucking cute.

“That’s not it,” he pushed.

Haltingly, she replied, “I…it’s not mine. It’s…well, his. And he hasn’t been a part of me in, uh…maybe really in forever.”

“You’re right. It’s not yours. You’re Daisy. And the only last name you’ll ever really have is Sloan.”

Her body lurched on top of him.

He just held her tighter.

“So let’s get this straight, shall we?” he suggested.

“Okay,” she whispered, her eyes bright and still staring.

Marcus had a feeling with what he’d already said she had it straight.

But he went about making certain.

“I handle you with care. I’ll always handle you with care. I will never, not ever, Daisy, give you reason to leave me. I won’t cheat on you. I won’t beat you. The gambles I take will be in business only, but you’ll always be covered financially regardless. I like to drink but I never drink too much. I’ve never taken drugs in my life. I like control and you can’t be in control inebriated or stoned. To end, you’re safe with me. You’ll get from me only what you deserve, which is everything I can give you doing it handling you with care.”

“Okay, sugar.” She was still whispering.

“Is that completely understood?”

She nodded.

She was staring at him so closely he decided she did understand.

Completely.

Regardless, he kept going.

“If I break any of those promises, you’re free to leave me. If I don’t, you’re not. Not ever. If something isn’t working, we talk it out and make it work. Which means we’ll always work so there will be no reason to leave.”

With that, a different understanding was all over her face when she said softly, “I got stuff twisted in my head, Marcus.”

“That was clear.”

“It’s untwisted now, baby.”

“Good.”

She drew her fingers down his jaw, dropping her face closer to his.

“Never gonna leave you, Marcus.”

“Good,” he grunted.

“God,” she whispered, her gaze moving over his face. “Who woulda thought, givin’ my heart, havin’ it broken, learnin’ to guard it, I’d learn something else one day. That bein’ the best way to keep it safe is to find a man who’d prove he could handle it with care and give it to him.”

That felt good.

Fucking good.

So fucking good, he’d never felt anything that good in his whole goddamned life.

But Marcus didn’t share that with her because he knew without a single doubt she knew it too.

“I’m glad you got that part, Daisy. It’s important.”

She looked into his eyes.

“Now,” he continued, rolling them to their sides, “we can get to the cuddling, whispering, and groping part.”

She smiled at him, a brilliant flash of teeth added to a dazzling flash of humor in her cornflower-blue eyes.

Then she started giggling, filling their bedroom with the sound of bells.

While doing that, she kissed him.

This meant they skipped the cuddling and whispering parts and got right into groping.

And again, Marcus wasn’t complaining.

* * * *

His phone rang.

Marcus rolled.

Daisy rolled with him.

She snuggled into his back as he looked at the display.

At what he saw, he kept his body loose as he flipped his phone open.

“Yes?”

“Lee got him. We’re at the warehouse,” Darius said.

Nightingale got him.

Finally.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” he told Darius.

“Right,” Darius replied.

He felt Daisy press into his back.

Marcus flipped his phone shut and turned to her.

“Everything okay?” she asked sleepily, but he heard the concern in her voice.

“Everything’s fine. I just need to go see to something.”

She’d clearly looked at his bedside clock because she asked, “At three in the morning?”

“Yes.”

She got up on a forearm. “Does this happen a lot?”

“No.”

They fell silent as he slid a hand up her hip to her back and moved into her.

“Right. Okay. You’re comin’ right back?” she asked.

He grinned.

Fuck, his Daisy.

“Yes,” he said against her mouth.

She let him take it for a brief, deep kiss then she didn’t let him go, brushing soft, light kisses on his lips before she finally stopped.

“Be safe,” she whispered.

“I will, darling. And I won’t be long.”

He watched her hair nod in the dark.

He kissed her nose.

Then he rolled out of bed and made sure the covers were over her before he moved to his walk-in closet.

He called Ronald from there and spoke to him quietly.

That done, he dressed.

* * * *

Marcus walked into the warehouse, Brady at his back, Louie at his, Vince at his. Ronald was standing outside by the car.

The space was large. There was a couch in it, a folding table with two chairs, a deck of cards on it arrested in a game. Hiding a corner, there was some ripped, opaque-with-grime plastic sheeting hanging from the ceiling, a good deal of dust on the floor, and not much else.

However, the room was populated.

Darius Tucker was there, standing next to his aunt, Shirleen Jackson.

Darius was a tall, lean black man with twists in his hair and a face that would be handsome if it wasn’t so cold.

Shirleen was a tall, full-figured black woman with a very large Afro. She was wearing purple and looked like she’d come to that warehouse from choir practice at a church where all the women vied to be best dressed.

Standing opposite them, there was a man built like a linebacker. His dark hair was thick and wavy, his dark-brown eyes were alert and locked on Marcus. He was wearing jeans, brown boots, and a long-sleeved cargo shirt.

Lee Nightingale.

At his side was a man known on the streets as Stark. His last name. His first was Lucas but everyone called him Stark, unless you were someone he’d allow to call him Luke, and there weren’t many of those. He had black hair, dark-blue eyes, a full beard that was trimmed precisely along his jaw, and he was wearing black cargo pants, a tight, black, wicking shirt, and black combat boots.

And last, there was a man on his knees. His hands were not bound. But his head was bent forward and it looked like he was listing.

Shirleen and Darius had been playing.

Perhaps Nightingale and Stark, too.

Though, at a glance, Marcus noted it was only Stark who had cut, bloody knuckles.

Marcus stopped and looked behind him.

Brady jerked up his chin but it was Louie who moved forward.

He went to the man on his knees, grasped him by his hair, and yanked his head back.

The man grunted but nothing else. However, he looked like he’d keel over if Louie didn’t keep hold of him.

Although his face was blooded and very swollen, there was no mistaking he was the man Marcus saw in the video in Smithie’s security room.

The man who’d raped Daisy.

He nodded to Louie, who let him go.

He swayed so Marcus ordered, “Make him keep his knees.”

Louie dropped his eyes to the man.

Marcus looked to Shirleen but he said nothing.

“Figure that’s my invitation to take my leave,” she muttered, shot him a grin, and said louder, “Time’s right, Marcus, Shirleen’ll be wantin’ to meet your girl.”

Shirleen was a resourceful businesswoman.

She was also loyal as they came.

“I’ll be certain that’s arranged.”

Her grin got wide and white, then she looked to Darius.

Eyes to his aunt, he tipped his head to the door.

She nodded to him, looked through everyone in the room, except the man on the floor she walked right up to.

“Aunt Shirleen,” Darius growled in a low, warning tone.

“You’re a pig,” she whispered down at the man on his knees.

His head swung not entirely in his control to the side in order to look away.

Shirleen stood in contemplation over him for several long moments before she turned and walked from the room, her high heels sounding loud in the open space.

When that sound disappeared, Marcus looked to Nightingale.

“Darius tells me this was you.”

Nightingale tilted up his chin. “Got a new tracker. He’s good. So far, no one’s been able to hide from him. When we were getting nothing in Denver, we set him on it. He found this guy in Montana. Persuaded him to share his story. That being, Smithie gave Jimmy Marker the guy’s name from credit card receipts. Marker rolled up to his house with some squads, so he knew your woman pressed charges. He was twitchy, not sure how she’d play it, so he was also on the lookout. Before the boys could get into position, he took off out the back. He waited until the coast was clear, got as much together as he could, and left town.”

Marcus gave him a nod and looked to Stark but said to Nightingale, “In future business, you don’t need a second.”

“Luke’s here because he helped Vance do the persuading and he’s feelin’ the need to see this through,” Nightingale responded.

That explained the bloody knuckles.

“Your tracker?” Marcus asked, eyes still on Stark.

“Vance needs clear of certain things,” Nightingale answered.

This meant his tracker was an ex-con.

It was good to know Nightingale was protective. It said a great deal. It was also good to know Nightingale hired with a view to the future, not judging what was in the past. That said more.

Marcus spoke directly to Stark. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Stark was known not to be a big talker. This he proved by not replying but also not moving.

“You don’t want to be here,” Marcus warned.

Stark spoke again without speaking, doing this crossing his arms on his chest.

Marcus looked to Nightingale. “You should take your man and go.”

“I’m feelin’ the need to see this through, too.”

Marcus held his gaze. “Detective Marker is not going to close this case.”

Nightingale did nothing but put his hands on his hips.

“Your father is a cop, your brother is a cop, and your best friend is a cop,” Marcus pointed out.

“Yeah, and none of them are here,” Nightingale returned.

“You’re also not going to dissuade me,” Marcus shared.

“Am I doing any dissuading?” Nightingale asked.

Marcus studied him.

Then he told him quietly, “I’m protecting you.”

A flash shot through Nightingale’s eyes.

Rage.

“I saw that fuckin’ tape,” he bit out. “And just sayin’, so did Vance and so did Luke. So I think you more than anybody get me when I say Luke and me feel the need to see this through.”

He was young.

He was good at what he did, but he was young.

He’d learn.

Rage had no place in what they did, Nightingale’s place skirting the edges of it, Marcus’s right in the middle of it.

You gave in to your rage, you got sloppy.

In their game, sloppy men didn’t survive.

You planned.

You executed.

Then you moved on.

“Let me protect you,” Marcus urged.

They locked eyes and it took some time but eventually Nightingale proved he wasn’t only good, he was smart. He did this jerking up his chin, cutting his gaze through Stark, and he dropped his hands from his hips before he cast a glance at Tucker and strode away.

Stark stared at Marcus another beat before he dropped his arms from his chest and followed Nightingale.

Marcus waited until the sound of the heavy door closing echoed through the room and only then did he look at Darius.

“It’s arranged?” he asked.

“Zano and Townsend are both on board.” Darius walked to Marcus, pulling a gun out of the back of his jeans and offering it Marcus’s way.

Marcus took it.

Darius continued, “They find anything, it’ll be linked to the House of Shade. Everyone wants Shade out. He’s sliding, somethin’ surfaces with this, things’ll get a lot more slippery.”

“Is something going to surface?” Marcus asked.

Darius shrugged. Then he smiled.

Christ.

Cold as stone.

A long time ago, Shirleen’s now-dead husband made things very difficult for Vincent Shade. He was holding on mostly because there was always enough crime to go around, and even stupid and completely insane, Shade managed to find his share.

He’d been a nuisance for some time.

Darius was correct, everyone wanted him gone. It was just that, considering he was only a nuisance, no one felt any need to expend much effort to see to that task.

Marcus could not know if Shirleen and Darius had reason to lose patience and intended to deal a killing blow.

And he didn’t care.

He looked to the man on his knees.

“Vincetti’s clean up,” Darius muttered and Marcus knew he was on the move. “Dom and his boys’re en route. Ren is not in the know on this and Vito wants it kept that way.”

“Thank you,” Marcus replied.

“Serious, this piece of shit, don’t mention it,” Darius said as his farewell.

Marcus waited again until he heard the door close.

Then he focused on the man’s eyes.

He was looking up at Marcus.

“Why?” Marcus asked.

“Just finish it,” the guy mumbled.

“Why?” Marcus repeated.

“Fuck!” the man exploded, the force of it making him veer forward so he had to put a hand out to catch his fall. He didn’t right himself but tipped his head back and shouted, “Just finish it!”

Louie pulled him back up to his knees by his hair.

“Fucking finish it!” he screamed, ripping his head from Louie’s hold, listing again but keeping his knees.

“Why?” Marcus asked again.

“We gonna play this game?” the man asked snidely.

“I’m thinking you might not have absorbed this, but this is my game, so yes, we’re going to play it.”

The man glared at him then spat, “Had me ejected.”

“It’s my understanding you put your hands on her during a private dance. That’s not allowed at Smithie’s.”

“She’s a fuckin’ stripper,” he hissed.

Marcus ignored that and he could because he’d learned early how to control his rage.

“You broke the rules, she had you ejected, so you raped her?”

“I know she’s yours. I’ve heard your name. Didn’t know it at the time but I sure as fuck know it now. I also know nothin’ I say is gonna stop what you’re gonna do. Maybe just make it last longer and be less fun, and serious, man, that guy with a beard and his Indian friend weren’t a barrel of laughs. So not that I’m invitin’ that shit, but just sayin’, to top the joyride I had with those fuckin’ guys, you’d have to get creative. But how about we skip this bullshit and you just fucking finish it?”

Interesting.

Shirleen and Darius hadn’t played with him at all.

Only Stark and Nightingale’s tracker.

This meant Nightingale and his team had no qualms with a variety of aspects of their business.

Marcus set these thoughts aside, studied the man before him for some time, and then whispered, “You can’t answer me.”

The man looked away and Louie used his hair to make him look back.

“Fuck,” he bit out.

“Do you have a mother?” Marcus asked.

“Fuck you,” the man spat.

“Sisters?”

“Fuck…you!” he leaned forward and shouted.

Louie pulled him back.

“You do, so why?” Marcus pressed.

“Because I could, all right?” he yelled. “Because I fuckin’ could and she couldn’t fuckin’ stop me that time, could she?”

Marcus tilted his head to the side. “That’s it? Because you could?”

“Yeah, because I could.”

“So you’re telling me you thought she bested you and your dick is so small, you couldn’t bear that blow so you needed to show her who had the power?”

“Why do you do all the shit you do to wear your fancy suit and have your men at your back?” the man countered. “Don’t stand there thinkin’ you’re better than me when you got me on my knees and you got a gun in your hand I know you’re gonna use. Because for that reason right there, you aren’t better than me, asshole.”

“That’s an interesting, but erroneous, comparison.”

“Whatever,” the guy muttered.

“I’ve never raped a woman.”

“Oh, good. You’re a saint,” he bit back.

“I’ve never ordered a woman to be raped.”

“Whatever, motherfucker, just end this.”

“The games I play, every player knows the score.”

“Jesus, put you in a suit, you’re a superhero.”

“The point I’m trying to make is, she was an innocent woman walking through a parking lot not having any idea someone was going to commit a violent act using her body to do it. And what I’m trying to understand is how you could be that someone who’d commit that violent act using an innocent woman to do it.”

“I mighta got my bell rung pretty fuckin’ good by those two fuckin’ assholes, but I’m not missin’ your point.”

Simply out of curiosity, Marcus asked, “Have you done this before?”

“Never taken it all the way.” He suddenly sneered at Marcus, showing him a set of bloody teeth, of which three were missing in a way Marcus knew they’d only been recently lost. “Your girl was my first.” The sneer faded and a different kind of ugliness replaced it as he shook his head. “But no bitch disrespects me. No bitch. I had my way of communicatin’ that, and I don’t give a fuck I’m on my knees, I got no regrets. A bitch has it comin’, that’s just the way. You’re too weak to get that, not my problem.”

At that, Marcus heard from behind him Brady pull in a hiss of breath through his teeth.

This was not because the man on his knees had insulted Marcus.

Or, not entirely.

It was because Brady had three younger sisters and two shit-for-brains parents that got their asses incarcerated, one three weeks after the other, leaving an eighteen-at-the-time Brady the only one who could look after those girls like Marcus’s sister had done, or let them hit the system.

He’d decided to look after his sisters.

Fortunately, he’d found Marcus not long after and Marcus helped him do that.

Nevertheless, for obvious reasons, Brady, like Marcus, wasn’t a big fan of any man thinking it’s just the way if “a bitch has it comin’.”

Down low, Marcus swung a hand slightly out and he felt the heat of Brady’s anger at his back subside.

He’d taught Brady the lesson about rage too.

Marcus focused again on the man.

“She was going to get her lip gloss.”

“Do I care?”

“Her laugh sounds like bells.”

“Again, asswipe, do I care?”

Again, Marcus studied him and he did it for a good length of time.

Closely.

“No,” Marcus finally said, speaking quietly. “You don’t. You don’t care. And that’s it. That’s why you could do what you did. Because you don’t care. I was right. You’re nothing but an animal.”

“You think I’m gonna beg for mercy, I’m not, fuckwad. Again, don’t give a fuck she’s convinced you different. That gash don’t matter. Most gash don’t matter. But her? She’s a fucking stripper!”

The gunshot echoed loud through the room.

The man slumped to his back.

Marcus turned, Brady came to his side, and Marcus handed him the gun.

“You’ll coordinate things with Dom?” he asked.

Brady nodded.

Marcus took that in.

Then he walked out of the warehouse.

* * * *

Sitting in the back of his car, Ronald driving, the phone held to his ear, Marcus heard it ring three times before Smithie answered with, “It’s after four in the fuckin’ morning.”

“It’s done.”

There was silence then, “What’s done?”

“Daisy’s safe.”

More silence before a muttered, “That Nightingale guy.”

Marcus said nothing.

“This does not make me happy,” Smithie announced.

Marcus felt his neck get tight. “How can this not make you happy?”

“’Cause, brother, whatever got done got done without me gettin’ my licks in.”

Marcus let out a breath. “You’re not that man.”

“Maybe you don’t know me too good.”

“I know you, Smithie, and you’re not that man. But I am.”

“Fuck,” Smithie bit out, his way of conceding the point.

“She’s safe. It’s done. We can all move on.”

Abruptly, Smithie asked, “You love her?”

Without hesitation, Marcus answered, “Yes.”

Smithie was back to muttering. “Fuck, now I gotta find a new dancer.”

Marcus smiled into the dark. “She likes to dance, Smithie, but yes. Eventually, she’ll be busy having our children, and my guess is Daisy will feel the need to put all her attention into that.”

“I like you enough to hope you don’t have girls,” Smithie mumbled.

Marcus hoped he did.

“Thank you for being the first man in her life she could trust,” Marcus said.

Again, there was silence.

After Marcus gave him time for that, Smithie replied, “Thank you for bein’ the second.”

Then Smithie hung up.

Marcus flipped his phone shut and turned his head to look out the window in order to watch Denver slide by on his way home to Daisy.

* * * *

“Boss,” Ronald growled.

Marcus stared out the windshield at Lee Nightingale standing beside the elevator doors, arms crossed on his chest, one booted foot up, the sole resting against the concrete.

Yes, Nightingale was good.

Marcus’s building was secure. In other words, it had armed security guards that looked after everyone, not just Marcus. There were codes. There were monitored cameras. And Nightingale looked like he’d been waiting for some time, undisturbed.

“It’s okay,” Marcus said.

Ronald swung into his spot and bit out, “Fuck!” as Marcus threw open his own door.

Lee pushed away from the wall. Marcus closed his door and met him halfway across the short space.

Nightingale shoved his hand in his pocket as Ronald warned, “Not another move.”

“It’s fine, Ronald,” Marcus said, not looking from Nightingale.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket, lifted it, and from his fingers dropped a necklace—delicate gold chain, at the bottom a row of pearls.

“Wasn’t the time to give you this an hour ago,” Nightingale muttered.

Marcus lifted his hand palm up.

Nightingale let the pearls go and they fell into his hand.

His fingers closed around it.

“Do you work on retainer?” Marcus asked.

Lee Nightingale’s head twitched.

And then he smiled.

* * * *

Marcus slid into bed beside Daisy, gliding a hand over the silk at her belly and pulling her back into his front.

He curled into her.

Her fingers curled to link through his at her middle.

“Everything good?” she asked sleepily.

He buried his face in her hair.

“Everything is perfect.”

Her fingers tensed in his.

He pulled her deeper into his body and whispered, “You’re safe now, darling.”

At that, her entire body tensed.

She let his hand go, turned in his arm, and slid hers around him.

He could feel her gaze in the dark.

“Are you okay?”

Marcus tangled his legs with hers.

“I’m fine, honey.” He gave her a squeeze. “Are you?”

“Peachy.”

He grinned.

She snuggled closer.

“Love you, baby,” she whispered.

“Love you too, darling.”

She stiffened then melted in his arms.

He’d had to wait to say it. He’d had to wait until he knew he’d done all he could to make it as right as he could make it.

He’d done that.

So he said it.

“A dream,” she murmured.

“Sorry?”

“You. You’re the dream a girl like me never thought she could dream.”

She was right. She’d told him she’d never given herself a prince charming.

But now she had one in the way he came.

So all that was left was to build her a castle.

And Marcus was going to take care of that too.