Page 80 of Scarlet Mark

She released my final finger with a pop. “Thank you, sir.” Her chosen nickname for me went straight to my balls, causing me to want to fuck her all over again. But reason won in the end, my hands working to fix her dress and giving her a more presentable appearance.

Her pleasure-drunk stare worked in my favor, her swollen lips leaving no questions as to what we’d been doing.

Screw being found.

One look at the pair of us and we’d be excused.

I bent to pick up my jacket, returning it to her shoulders, and slid her clutch into the interior pocket so no one would think to search it.

“Let’s get you home.” Not to Powell’s estate, but to one of my safe houses. Because Malcom and Assad would be on their way back from Europe now, and I had no intention of making it easy for them to find us.

“Okay,” she agreed, the smile in her voice putting my heart at ease in a way I couldn’t explain.

I did that.

I fixed her.

She didn’t need normal.

She needed me.

And I rather liked that revelation.

I allowed it to show on my lips and in my eyes as I tugged her into view of everyone in the corridor, her arm looped through mine as we stumbled across the marble, high from our explosive sex. The knives were still in my pockets. The poison and ketamine in the purse hidden beneath my suit jacket.

But no one thought to question us, a glance at our appearance causing the cops to look right through us, their displeasure at our behavior evident. If they only knew.

We danced around the onlookers, most of whom had removed their masks in confusion, and pretended not to notice all the men in uniform. One or two of them tried to ask us questions, but my incoherent answers left us quickly dismissed.

All in all, a close call, but a successful evening.

And enlightening, too.

Amara wasn’t ready to face her enemies yet. I could remove them all on my own, but it wouldn’t provide her with the closure she required.

However, I had a plan. One Arthur wasn’t going to care for, but he didn’t get a say in this mission. Not anymore.

This was between me and Amara.

And those who had wronged her.

We would kill them all—together—when my partner was ready.

Amara

Five Weeks Later…

“Consider it this way, Arthur. I’m giving you time to find higher bidders.” Killian’s voice lured me to the living area, where he sat on the couch, admiring the waves crashing outside on the beach below.

We’d spent a little over a month here, training on the shores of Virginia where he swore no one would ever find us. With spring coming, there were a few tourists popping around, but it was otherwise quiet.

For the first week, I kept glancing over my shoulder expecting Malcom to be waiting for me, but apparently, not even Killian’s closest friends knew about this home. It was his secret place, the one he ran to when he wanted to avoid everyone and the world.

The circumstance may have required this invite to his secret hideout, but he didn’t seem to mind my presence. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying it.

“I know,” he said into the phone. He held out his arm for me to join him on the couch, his constant awareness warming my blood. Killian always knew when I was near, even when I approached quietly from behind—like now.

I settled beside him on the sofa, my head falling to his shoulder as he snorted. “A decade of concise assassinations earns me a brief vacation, Calthorpe. Besides, I’m about to make you a fortune when I finish taking out this list.”