'Til Death - Part 2 Read online

  I shake my head, disgusted. He just keeps talking.

  “You kept pushing, past my bullshit, past the wall, past the hardness. You kept pushing and I found myself feeling. Was it enough to give it all up? No. But it was more than I’d ever felt for any woman.”

  He steps closer and my breathing becomes ragged.

  “As time went on, I got comfortable. You fit me, you fit my life; we were working. You made me smile, hell—I hadn’t smiled in years. You made me believe there was more to life than business. I fell for you, and before I woke up and realized that, you found the contract and left.”

  I shake my head from side to side. He’s lying. He’s only saying this so I’ll go back to him, so I’ll give in and he can use me for something else.

  “Stop it,” I shriek, lunging forward. “You’re lying.”

  He catches my shoulders, shaking me slightly. “I’m not lying, Katia. I haven’t fucked another woman since you left, and I haven’t wanted to. The only thing I want is you.”

  “Liar!” I bellow, lashing out with my hands. I hit him in the jaw and he roars in pain, stepping back. It doesn’t deter him; he lunges forward, catching my wrists this time. I thrash, pulling, kicking and screaming.

  He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t want me. He’s lying. He’s a liar. This is what he does. This is who he is.

  “I’m not lying,” he grates out. “Fuck, Katia, I want this.”

  “No,” I scream.

  “Yes.”

  I lift my head. “There’s nothing you could say that would make me believe this is real.”

  “Not even I love you?”

  My knees tremble and my eyes hold his. “You’re sick, Marcus Tandem. Sick.”

  “For telling the truth?” he barks.

  “What do you want from me?” I cry. “What do you want? Do you want to torture me some more? Or do you just want the convenience of me?”

  “Fuck it,” he barks. “I want you because you’re you.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  I jerk my hands from his and launch my fist at his face again, he catches it, pulls my body forward and suddenly his lips are on mine. My knees go out from beneath me and I fight, God, do I fight. I swing, I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull, I kick his shins and squirm but his lips hold mine, kissing, burning into mine.

  Then I’m kissing him back and hating myself for it.

  Hating myself for going with something so familiar, for needing it so badly I’m willing to put myself through the pain I’ll no doubt feel afterwards just to have it. Just to feel okay for a moment.

  My back is slammed against the wall and Marcus doesn’t move his lips from mine. He kisses me until I’m gasping for air. His hands are in my locks, tugging, and his body is crushed against mine, his erection pressing into my belly. Then his hands are wrenching free of my hair and going down to the hem of my dress.

  We’re in a frenzy; emotion is gone. There is nothing but raw lust, a lust that is dangerous for the both of us. My head swims from alcohol and emotion. I can’t think straight, not when his lips are on mine, not when his hands are everywhere. He jerks my dress up and finds my panties, tearing them off as if they are no more than a flimsy piece of material.

  Then he’s jerking his pants down, freeing his cock. What’s happening? What am I doing? My thoughts are taken from me when he thrusts upwards, filling me in one fluid stroke. My head falls back and I scream. Thrilling, sensational agony rips through my body and I arch, trying to ease it, trying to get more—I don’t know which. Marcus places a hand on the wall beside my head and the other firmly under my ass, and he fucks me.

  He fucks me like this is our last day on earth and I’m the only reason he’s fought.

  He fucks me like I matter.

  He fucks me like I’m his lifeline and he can’t survive without me.

  I come shamelessly hard and fast, gripping his suit, running my fingernails desperately over the fabric. He growls low and deep, and fucks me so hard I feel the brick wall tearing into my skin. Then he’s coming too, hard and fast, rasping my name.

  I close my eyes, shame filling me.

  What have I done?

  I shove at his chest, but he doesn’t move.

  “Let me go,” I rasp.

  He turns his face, pressing his nose to my neck.

  “Let me go!” I’m becoming frantic.

  His hands move to my hips and he pulls me closer.

  “God damn it,” I wail, shoving his chest. “Let me the fuck go.”

  He steps back and I dislodge myself from him. I’m ashamed of myself. Horrified that I could be so pathetic and weak. He used me, abused me, and I just let him take me as if nothing ever happened. What the hell is wrong with me? I straighten my dress, refusing to look at him.

  “Katia,” he begins, but I turn and rush off.

  “Fuck it,” he barks. “Katia wait.”

  I run inside, pantie-less and broken. I shove through the crowd until I find my brothers. Landon notices me first and his big smile is quickly wiped off his face when he sees me. He runs over, capturing my shoulders. “What’s happened? Did someone hurt you? Jesus, Katia, are you—”

  His voice trails off, and when I look up his eyes are trained on something behind me. I know it’s Marcus. Landon quickly shoves me behind him into Wyatt’s waiting arms. He steps towards Marcus and barks, “What the fuck are you doing here? She doesn’t want to see you. Leave.”

  Marcus glares at Landon, but makes no move to step closer to me. His eyes lift to mine and they’re telling me so much, so much I don’t want to hear. I drop my face down again, and Wyatt turns me, leading me from the club. When we’re outside, I break down, sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Hey,” Wyatt says. “You’re okay, come on.”

  He takes me to a park bench and we sit. Landon joins us a moment later.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “I’m a whore,” I cry. “That’s what.”

  “Hey.” Wyatt shakes me. “You are not a whore.”

  I turn to him, my body trembling with emotion. I don’t think; I just speak. “I just let him fuck me. Fuck me. Like none of the bad stuff ever happened. Like it didn’t matter.”

  Wyatt blinks and Landon curses.

  “He’s your husband. You loved him; mistakes happen.”

  “He took my life; he took it and he fucked it up. How could I be so pathetic? I just basically told him everything he did was acceptable.”

  “That’s not true,” Landon argues. “You are fragile, Katia. He mattered and no matter what, somewhere deep down that changed something inside you. You can’t beat yourself up over a moment of weakness.”

  I drop my head. “I want to go home,” I whisper.

  “Katia . . .”

  “Now.”

  They wave down a cab, and I keep my head down until it reaches us. Landon calls Dusty, who was meant to meet us after work, and tells him what happened. I say nothing the entire ride home. My heart is breaking, my emotions are destroyed and I’m ashamed of myself. When we arrive at the house, I walk straight inside, ignoring Candy and Ford, and heading upstairs.

  I can hear them talking about me as I slide into my bed next to Penny. I reach out, tucking her hand in mine and clench my eyes shut, trying to forget tonight, trying to forget Marcus and how much he damaged me, trying to forget everything in the past twelve months, but most of all, trying to forget how good it felt to be in his arms again.

  “Marcus was there,” I hear Landon say. “Something went down.”

  He’s not saying what; I love him for that.

  “What?” Candy asks. “She . . . I’ve not seen her like that since the day she found that contract.”

  I hiccup and begin to sob.

  “I don’t know what,” Landon adds. “All I know is she’s devastated.”

  “You don’t think she . . . slept with him, do you?”

  I clench my eyes closed with shame.

  “No,” Wy
att pipes up. “I don’t.”

  “Should I go to her?” Candy asks.

  “No,” Wyatt adds again. “She needs to be alone. Just let her be.”

  Everything goes quiet after that.

  I tuck my daughter into my arms.

  Then I cry myself to sleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MARCUS

  THEN

  “Come on honey,” a feminine voice purrs.

  My drunken mind is struggling to process what’s happening. I’m on my back, there’s something heavy over me, but I remember fuck-all else. I try to force my eyes open, but see nothing through the haze. Something cool touches my face, stroking down my cheeks.

  “You’re so hot, Marcus.”

  Is that a female? On top of me? I blink rapidly, and slowly a figure comes into view. She’s blond, naked, and straddling me. A mixture of anger, humiliation and guilt swarms through my body. I try to lift my arms, but nothing happens. I’m numb.

  A hand strokes over my cock.

  I’m fucking naked? How the fuck did that happen?

  “L . . . l . . . let,” I try, but my voice is slurred and pathetic.

  “Shhh, let me help you.”

  She’s stroking my flaccid dick. What the fuck? I try to buck my hips, but I’m so fuckin’ smashed nothing is happening. I bellow with rage, jerking my hips up again.

  “Hush, let me fuck you, gorgeous.”

  No.

  No fuckin’ way.

  I buck again, and this time she launches off me. “Get the fuck out!” I bellow.

  The door swings open and I hear a familiar voice. “Fuck, bro. Shit.”

  Mack.

  “Get the fuck out,” I bellow, clawing at my chest. “Get the fuck out.”

  “What did you give him, bitch?” Mack roars.

  “I . . . I just . . .”

  “What did you give him?”

  “I don’t know,” she cries. “A friend told me it would help me . . .”

  “Get him into bed?” Mack hisses. “You better get out of my fuckin’ sight before I come over there and throw you out the damned window.”

  I hear the scurrying of feet and then someone has his or her arms around my shoulders, hauling me up. “Fuck, dude,” Mack mutters. “Cover yourself.”

  He thrusts a blanket at me and I can just see him through my frantic haze.

  “Where is she?” I bellow.

  If she sees this . . . if she knows there was a woman near me . . . no.

  “Who?”

  “Katia? Don’t let her in here.”

  “Fuck man,” Mack mutters, sitting beside me. “Dude, she left. Remember?”

  Pain rips through my chest as I remember the look on my wife’s face as she walked out on me. No. She can’t be gone.

  “No, Mack,” I roar. “Bring her back. Tell her I’m sorry.”

  “Come on man, you’re fucked up. Let me get you home to sleep it off.”

  “Tell her I’m sorry,” I rasp, dropping my head. “Tell her I love her. Tell her.”

  “Marcus, bud, you’re not with it.”

  I turn, clasping his shirt and shaking him. “Fuckin’ tell her. Tell her, Mack. Tell her I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Make her come back. Make her believe me.”

  He shoves me off. “Pull yourself together. She’s gone. She’s fuckin’ gone, and you’re drowning with every fuckin’ minute.”

  “Mack?” It’s Jaylah. His woman.

  “Jay, not now.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Not really.”

  “Make her come back, Jaylah,” I rasp, tangling my fingers into my hair. “Somebody please, just make her come back.”

  “Jesus,” Jaylah whispers as my world starts going blank again. “Poor man.”

  ~*~*~*~

  NOW

  KATIA

  The sound of my phone ringing raises me from my sleep. I blink, trying to clear my vision. My head is pounding and my stomach is turning. Memories of last night cause my stomach to twist angrily. I push up and reach over through the fading darkness to find my phone. I see my father’s number and my stomach drops.

  Mom.

  “Hello?” I ask.

  “Katia,” he says, his voice low and broken. “It’s your mom.”

  A sharp yet numbing pain shoots right up to my heart. My skin prickles. My ears ring. Everything seems to stop.

  “Dad,” I croak. “Please.”

  “She had a stroke.”

  A pained cry tears from my lips.

  “She’s alive, but . . . Katia . . . they don’t think she’ll make it.”

  I turn, shoving out of bed. “I’m coming, right now. I’m coming.”

  “I’ve booked a flight; I’ll text you the details. It was the earliest I could get.”

  “I’m coming,” I say again, frantically. “Dad, please.”

  “Baby,” he murmurs, and I close my eyes. “Hurry.”

  I hang up and ring Dusty right away.

  “Katia, what’s wrong? It’s like, four a.m.?”

  “Mom has had a stroke,” I say, my voice a monotone, emotionless mess. “She’s in hospital and I need to go to her.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I need . . . God, I don’t know what I need.”

  “Penny, let Candy and I take her.”

  “No,” I say sharply.

  “Katia, it’s a long flight and you’re going to be sitting in a hospital. It’s not fair.”

  My emotions blur into a big mess, a mess I can’t sift through. “I can’t leave her,” I croak.

  “This is for the best. We’ll take care of her; you know we will. Katia, your mom needs you.”

  I close my eyes, clenching them, trying to ease the pain.

  “Okay. I’ll be gone for a few days then I’ll come back.”

  “Take your time. I promise you Penny will be okay.”

  “I’m leaving soon. Can you come over?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  I hang up and turn to Penny. My heart burns. I want to take her. I can’t bear the thought of being away from her, but Dusty is right. It’s not fair to put her back on a plane and then expect her to sit in a hospital quietly. I crawl into the bed beside her, and I burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears.

  I can’t lose my mom.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  KATIA

  “She’s going to be okay,” Candy soothes, holding me close as I climb into the cab.

  “Please text me all the time. I need to know Penny is doing all right,” I whisper.

  “I promise.”

  I stare at Dusty, who is playing happily with Penny. He looks up at me, blows a kiss and gives me a thumbs up. He’s trying to reassure me, but nothing feels right at the moment. Nothing. The cab driver starts off and I can’t even bring myself to wave at my friends. If I look back I’ll break down, and I can’t deal with that right now.

  The ride to the airport is dull and slow, so slow that by the time we get there, I’m late. I pay the cab driver and step out. I’m about to step inside the building when arms go around my waist. I scream, thrashing as I’m dragged towards a car. When I’m thrown in, I turn and lunge, only to see Marcus blocking the doorway.

  “You won’t talk to me. I’ll make sure you do. You’re not leaving, Katia.”

  I open my mouth to scream that he’s got it all wrong, but he climbs into the car, pressing a hand over my mouth. He’s angry, his eyes gone far and beyond compassion. He leans forward and starts talking. “I’m not hurting you; I’d never hurt you. I’m doing this because you need to listen to me. You need to understand. You need to hear me out. What happened last night shouldn’t have, I know that, but I won’t deny how fucking good it felt to be with you again.”

  Mom.

  My plane.

  I squirm but Marcus wraps his arm around me, holding me close. How did he know I was here? How did he find me? He needs to let me go. He needs to let me get on my plane. I thrash. I try to bite his hand. I try to scream words
at him. He takes no notice of anything.

  “Jesus, Katia, just listen.”

  I close my eyes and thrash my head. I was already late when I got here; the longer he holds me, the more chance I have of missing my plane. That can’t happen.

  “Katia,” he growls. “Just listen.”

  I kick out and he presses his body to mine. “Did you think you could just leave? You can’t go without resolving this; I won’t lose you again. Please, baby, listen to me.”

  My body jerks at his words. They hurt. They find somewhere deep in my soul I’ve kept hidden, and jerk at it.

  “I can’t fix what I’ve done,” he says softly. “I can only try and make it better. You want me to give it all up to prove to you that you mean everything? I’ll fucking do it.”

  I shake my head from side to side. Minutes have passed. I was late. I’m going to miss my plane. I take a breath and then kick out, hard. Marcus finally lets me go, and I scramble towards the door.

  “Do my words mean nothing?” he barks.

  I turn angry eyes to him. “My mother had a stroke last night.”

  His eyes widen and his jaw goes slack. I shove the car door open, gather my luggage and run towards the doors. Marcus is behind me, keeping my pace. I run through security. I skid to my gate, only to find one woman there. My heart pounds.

  “I need to get on this flight,” I cry.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. The doors have just closed.”

  “Then open them!” I scream. “Please.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m unable to do that. If you go and talk to reception, they might be able to reschedule for no fee.”

  “My mother is dying,” I screech. “I need to be there now.”

  “Katia,” Marcus says, putting his hands on my shoulder. “We’ll find you another flight. Come on.”

  “She’s dying,” I wail. “She’s dying and because you held me up, I might not make it.”

  He flinches, but keeps his voice calm. “You’ll make it. Come on.”

  He turns me, and leads me back out to the row of clerks at desks. He begins talking to them, getting angry and waving his hands. I find a seat and drop down, putting my head in my hands. I’ll get there. I’ll get there. I’ll get there.

  “Katia.”