Page 64 of Marked

Taking a hold of his wrist, I brought his hand toward me to have a look. Sure enough, a bruise was already forming on the back of his middle finger and there was significant swelling. If a car bomb didn’t make him go to the ER, I doubt a possible fractured finger would either.

“We need to put some ice on this or you won’t be able to move it at all tomorrow.” I drew my thumb lightly over the damaged flesh.

“Later. First, tell me what you’re thinking.”

I’d never been bait before. There were a lot of unknowns with what Waverly and Nelson were proposing. For all we knew, Vlaschenko wasn’t interested in anything we were selling. The guy might be looking to wipe Machail and the rest of his family off the map, not send them to prison. All in all, this op had the potential to go upside down and sideways, but we were running out of options.

“We could’ve died tonight if you hadn’t realized whatwas going on. I’d rather not leave our future up to chance. If it means dealing with the lesser of two evils to avoid a lifetime of looking over our shoulders, then I say bring it on.” Spinning around, I faced Waverly. “How soon will we be able to set this up?”

She sat back in her seat, studying me intently before answering, “Tomorrow.”

“All right. Then we should get busy.”

We were wiped, physically and emotionally, by the time we crawled into bed a little after four in the morning. Keaton left the office a bit before everyone else in order to get the girls and Jett set up in a nearby safe house. It was my one and only demand. No one argued with me. They knew I was right. The Russians could’ve easily tried to go after one of them to get to me, and I’d be damned if I was going to make it easy for them.

Nelson spent hours running through every single thing he knew about Zakhar Vlaschenko, down to the brand and preferred color of boxer briefs the guy wore. I wasn’t certain how that information was relevant to the case, unless it was a crime to have expensive taste in underwear and look damn good in it.

Unlike how I was seventy-five-percent of the time, I woke up slowly and peacefully. One long deep breath, then I’d stretch my arms wide. It was a recent development; only happening this way since the first night we shared a bed. Somehow my body always ended up draped across Noah’s. It was like I was drawn to him, even in sleep. I knew he knew I was awake, which was confirmed after I stretched, then molded myself into his side with my head on his chest.

“It’s too early for you to be up, Darlin’.”

Tilting my head back, I got the perfect view of his sleepy blue eyes. “Such a double standard, Cowboy. We went to bed at the same time, and I’d bet money you’ve been awake for quite a while.”

“I’d never bet against you.” He kissed my temple, then bent one arm behind his head and curled the other around my waist, squeezing me tighter against him. “Are you nervous about later?”

“What’s there to be nervous about? Just an average meet and greet with your friendly neighborhood Russian mobster.”

“You probably shouldn’t call him that to his face.”

“No, definitely not.” I scrunched my nose. “Shower then breakfast?”

If the tenting of the sheet covering us was any indication, his cock was unmistakably on board with my plan. As were my nipples, which pebbled at the thought of a naked, wet Noah. Then again, they were perpetually hard whenever he was around. Even fully clothed, the man made me ache.

“Only if you let me dirty you up first.”

Rolling over, he took me to my back. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe this incredible man was mine. Anytime I imagined my life, he was right there in the mix, yet not long ago, there had been a very real possibility I could lose him forever; lose the beauty of us before it even had a chance to blossom. Looking back now, I can admit that the timing was all wrong. Our past held our future hostage. Neither one of us could commit to a lifetime until we let go of those memories which marked our soul.

“Love you, Alaina Lyn Biggs. I don’t say it enough, but I hope you feel it every second of the day.”

Without waiting for a reply, he narrowed the gap, licking across the seam of my lips. I opened immediately, angling my head to the side, hoping he’d deepen the kiss. But before anything else could happen, his phone began blaring from the bedside table. He groaned, then lifted up.

“Hold that thought.” Shifting to the side, he nabbed the offending device and frowned. “It’s Keaton.”

A sick feeling churned in my belly.

“What’s wrong?” His frown grew the more he listened. “Shit. We’ll get it and meet you there. It’s going to be okay.”

After hitting the red circle to end the call, he sent a series of texts then tossed the phone on the bed. Every possible scenario blasted through my mind while I waited for Noah to tell me what the hell was going on. Well, almost every scenario. I missed one.

“Henley’s in labor.”

Noah

You’d have thought we were a three-hour drive from Cabell Huntington Hospital rather than ten minutes by the way Lanie scrambled off the bed. I only had seconds to admire her naked body before she hurriedly covered it up. So much for playtime in the shower.

The texts I’d sent had been to Koen. He and Duncan spent the night in our driveway. Despite the odds of the Russians striking twice in one night being low, we weren’t taking any chances. Hence the two bodyguards instead of one. Since they’d already heard the good news from Jade, I asked them to leave us a vehicle––for obvious reasons––then head to Keaton’s to pick up Henley’s baby bag. In all the confusion the night before, no one had thought to grab it.

“Settle down, Darlin’.” I snagged a shirt out of my dresser, realizing my mistake a moment later when a tennis shoe sailed through the air, narrowly missing my head.

---