Page 75 of Marcus in Retrograde
“Oh, God, no more right now. My cock is willing but the flesh is spongy and bruised.”
My laugh erupted out of me. “Did you just quote Zapf Brannigan?”
“What of it? He was right.”
Flopping down on my stomach next to him, I kissed his cheek. “God, I love you.”
Whoa.
There was a terrible banging on the door downstairs. We jerked and looked toward the hall. Without another word, we quickly pulled on some clothes and made our way down the stairs.
Beth was hurrying from the kitchen to the door. She pulled it open.
There was a tall, built man standing there, holding his hat, while two more men—currently nothing more than two pair of shoes and a shadow—stood behind him.
“Del Billings, what are you doing here?” Beth’s smile was wide.
“Mrs. Garcia. I’m afraid we’re not here to make a social call. May we come in?”
“Of course…” She was as confused as we were, but stepped out of the way.
The three of them walked into the foyer, and the sheriff’s eyes shot to me and Chase on the stairs. “Mister Romano?”
I nodded.
He held up a blue-backed piece of paper, and my legs went out from under me, landing me hard on my ass on the stairs.
I had seen too many of those pieces of paper in my life.
“Marcus?” Chase’s voice sounded miles away from me, and it slogged through the buzzing in my head. “Marcus!” His hand slid into mine and his palm was against my cheek.
Glancing back at the sheriff I could see the remorse in his eyes as he handed the paper over to Tony to inspect, then turned back to me. “Mister Romano, we have a warrant for your arrest from the State of New York, Kings County, with an extradition agreement for the State of Illinois.”
“W-what—” I choked on the words. I didn’t want to know.
“What charges?” Chase asked.
“As stated by the District Attorney in Kings County,” the sheriff said, “Rape in the First Degree, Criminal Sexual Act in the First Degree, and Predatory Sexual Assault.”
I managed to stumble up the steps into the bathroom and heaved everything out of my stomach at once. I was choking on my own vomit when Chase slammed to his knees next to me and ran a careful hand over my back.
“Breathe, Marcus, please.”
My head hung low, and the world spun and twisted around. I couldn’t believe this was happening again.
Beth reached over me and flushed, and a moment later she was holding out a paper cup of mouthwash. “Rinse, Marcus. It will help you get your bearings.”
I obeyed, swishing, and spitting back into the bowl.
“Do you have a lawyer in New York?” she asked.
“N-no,” I managed between horrid and ragged breaths.
“You will by the time you get there,” Chase said.
“Call my mom, please,” I managed. “Please.”
“I will,” Beth said.
