Marked By Desire - The Complete Series Read online

  “So? I can still complain while you look hot, and we might score free drinks.”

  Hannah had the sneaking suspicion that she wanted to score more than free drinks, but said nothing. In the end, she put on the black dress and a pair of strappy heels—their compromise between sexy shoes and sandals. Together, they left for The Baron.

  The Baron wasn’t as crowded as it got on the weekends, but, Hannah knew as the night went on it would still be packed. The two of them had found a table near the stairs which led to the city above. The nightclub itself was underground, which happened to be part of the appeal for many of the young, flirty patrons.

  Marina was going on about Harold.

  “He’s a good-for-nothing father,” she slurred, already having had several cocktails. “And a lousier boyfriend. Don’t even get me started on the bedroom situation, honey. ‘Cause it sure ain’t pretty.”

  She put away cocktails like they were water, but Hannah tried to stay on the sober side, sipping hers slowly. She wasn’t much of a drinker to begin with, and she knew she had to keep her head when Marina lost hers.

  At the bar, a couple of guys were glancing their way. One seemed pretty chatty, while the other seemed more the listener. Hannah was more worried about getting her life together, whatever that meant, than trying to drag a guy into it. The lighting in the club was dim, but she couldn’t help noticing the quieter of the two men. He had short, dark hair and even from across the room, Hannah could tell his eyes were a beautiful green. He was sipping at something, but as though sensing that she was staring, he focused his attention on her.

  Hannah gave him a shaky smile, nervously playing with her curly hair.

  He was staring long enough that Hannah considered going over to him, saying hi. It was out of character for her to be so bold, but a little liquid courage and the way he was focusing on her, well… it couldn’t hurt, right?

  She had almost talked herself into it when he reached into his inside jacket pocket for his cellphone. When he pulled back the material, she saw something metallic glint in the dim lights of the bar. She squinted, frowning, until she realized what it was.

  Her eyes widened. It was a gun.

  Quickly, Hannah pulled her eyes away from the man and refused to look over at him again. Whatever that was about, she didn’t need that complication in her life. The sound of Marina’s voice drifted to her once again, and Hannah turned back to her friend, trying to focus on what she was talking about.

  “Enough about me,” Marina said when she started tearing up. “I’m not going to be that girl, crying over my alcohol about a man. You should never cry about a man. They’re not worth it.”

  It was the alcohol talking, making her slur her words and ramble. In the morning, she would probably forget she had said anything about it at all, but Hannah hoped that wasn’t the case. Maybe tonight would be the night she convinced herself that Harold wasn’t worth the grief.

  “That’s exactly what I want you to remember,” Hannah said, patting her drunk friend’s hand reassuringly. Maybe some of it will stick, she silently hoped.

  Marina downed her martini and flagged a waiter down, ordering another without batting a delicately coated eyelash.

  “So tell me about you,” she said to Hannah, clearly desperate for a subject change, for now.

  Hannah shrugged. “There’s not really that much to tell. Working for Lorenzo is great, he pays pretty well for what I’m doing and he’s fun to work with.”

  Marina rolled her eyes. “You can’t want to spend the rest of your life behind a counter, though,” she said pointedly.

  “Well, no,” Hannah admitted, a finger twirling a curled piece of loose hair absently. “But it’s not for the rest of my life, is it? It’s just until I figure out what I want to do with my life.”

  “I thought you already figured that out when you decided to study journalism.”

  Hannah sipped her daiquiri.

  “Well, yeah. But that was before I realized I can’t write.”

  Marina stuck an olive into her mouth and cackled around it. “You’re being ridiculous,” she said around her snack. “Your stuff is great. You’re so artistic. I don’t get why you don’t believe in yourself.”

  Hannah shrugged and looked into the murky strawberry juice that swirled around in her glass. She couldn’t help but think that her friend was too drunk to be trusted, as far as her estimation of Hannah’s talent was concerned, anyway. “There’s just not that much to believe in.”

  Marina took a deep breath, doing her best at putting on a serious face. It was a little difficult since she was so drunk. Reaching out her hand and placing it over Hannah’s, she said, “You can do great things, you know. You’re stronger than you think.”

  She was so serious that Hannah almost laughed, because she was still swaying from her liquor. Her eyes had a hard time focusing, and she seemed to get distracted quickly by anything from the flashing lights in the dark bar to the passing of strangers by their table.

  “Look who’s talking, Miss high-powered attorney,” Hannah retorted, feeling her cheeks begin to warm a little from liquor. It was time to cut herself off and let the effects wear off before it was time to leave.

  “Clerk,” Marina corrected. “I’m like an assistant to an assistant to a judge… lawyer… person.”

  Hannah disregarded her statement and continued, “You have your son, Taylor, and basically no dad to help out, but you still have to put up with all the grief of having Harold hanging around. All while you’re working. If that’s not strong, I don’t know what is.”

  And that was the truth. Hannah didn’t think of herself as strong. She wasn’t a leader or a survivor. Really, she was lucky she could handle things like paying her own bills. Marina was definitely the stronger of the two.

  Marina shook her brown hair over her shoulder and touched her finger to the side of her mouth, checking for stray lipstick stains.

  “Yes, and I have an au pair and a psychologist to get me through it. And Harold’s mom who helps with the bills because she feels guilty about her good-for-nothing son ruining my life.”

  Hannah laughed.

  Marina had had more than she could handle and Hannah had to steer her home, reluctantly letting Harold take care of the rest. She knew her friend needed her and she wanted to be there for her, but Hannah was getting tired. And, more importantly, she had to be up early in the morning again for work. Friendship was important to her, as was being there for her friend, but it didn’t pay the bills. She’d only had two cocktails, but she was feeling it. Her head felt cloudy and she could tell already that she was going to regret her decision to go out in the morning.

  2

  Luke closed the file on his desk and leaned back in his chair. His back was stiff from hunching over his desk all afternoon, looking over the Branson case. He ran his fingers through his black hair. Finding safe houses for a full family was hard with such young children. Generally, he didn’t like placing groups in witness protection. It was risky, but he always made an exception for families. There was very little worse than splitting up families.

  Except, of course, getting them all killed because of a mistake.

  It was incredible what kind of mess people could get themselves into. But still, working in the witness protection program was exactly what Luke wanted to do with his life, even if some of the families were hard to take care of. He’d wanted to be a U.S. Marshal since he was just a kid straight out of high school, despite, or maybe because of, his parents’ disapproval.

  His phone rang. He massaged the bridge of his nose, fighting back a headache, but picked up the call anyway.

  “Blake,” he answered.

  “Lucas,” a panicked voice said at the end of the line.

  He let out a sigh, doing his best to keep the exasperation and frustration out of his tone. “What is it, Maria?” It was Maria Branson, wife of Willie Branson who had been killed two weeks ago over a drug deal gone bad. Maria, now a widowed, single mother, and her kids were assigned to Luke.

  “How can we be safe here?” she demanded, clearly scared. “What if something happens to the girls? Mr. Rodrick is very nice, but he’s never here. How are we supposed to fend for ourselves if something happens while he’s gone?”

  Luke sighed. He had to stop giving his personal number to his charges. He did it every time and sometimes they could really be too much. He could understand why Mrs. Branson was so scared. She had seen her husband’s death, and she had two little girls to keep safe, with no idea how to do that. That was what the program was for, though, and two agents were assigned near her to keep an eye on her and her girls. Really, he didn’t even have to give his number to her. They were good, reliable men and he trusted them to keep her safe until the trial. Even so, he wanted them to have another number to dial if something went really wrong. What if something happened to them and he was the last to find out that his witnesses weren’t as safe as he’d promised them they would be?

  He would probably keep giving his number to every case that touched his heart. It was more than he liked to admit.

  “If you stick to the rules and don’t try to contact anyone, you should be safe. We’ve done this over a thousand times and nobody has gotten hurt yet. Mr. Rodrick contacts us when he leaves and we send security when that happens—“

  “I just don’t see how this is going to work out. How can I not contact my sister? She’s always been there for me and she won’t give our location away.”

  Luke groaned inwardly, reminding himself to be patient, that not everyone had his training. “It’s not about whether we can trust her, Maria. The reason you’re in a protection program is because these are not regular bad guys. They have ways of finding you. They can track you down if you give them any kind of trace at all. You need to stay underground, otherwise we can’t help you.”

  There was a pause on the other end, then a quick sob, before Maria collected herself. “You’re asking too much.”

  “We’re doing the best we can. I’m asking you to save your lives. Working yourself up like this isn’t going to help anyone, least of all the children. Davis has agents on the case. Soon you’ll be able to go home.”

  He put the receiver down and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

  Scott Davis pushed the door to his office open.

  “You still on the Branson case?”

  Luke nodded. “They’re hard to place with the little ones. Mrs. Branson just seems set on going against the rules. It’s impossible for her to lie low. I think she gets a kick out of being in danger. But, hopefully, only a week more and we can close this case. Court date is set, isn’t it?”

  “Shouldn’t be too long,” Scott responded easily. “Let’s hope they show up.”

  Luke sighed, thinking of all the problems that would surface if this thing went bad. “Think they’ll give you trouble?”

  Scott shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows, right? Hey, let’s get out of here, grab a beer. Harry and I are hitting The Baron and you look like you could use a change of scenery.”

  Luke nodded and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. His cell phone chirped in his pocket. He looked at the screen and muted it.

  “Ex-girlfriend hunting you down?” Scott grinned.

  “Worse.”

  “Worse than Julia?” Scott whistled through his teeth.

  “Mother,” Luke answered.

  Scott laughed out loud and clapped Luke on the back.

  “Tough to get away when they’re blood.”

  They walked into The Baron, taking a quick glance around the place. They found that the cheer surrounding them let the pair forget about work for a while. It was a needed break. Luke especially didn’t have anything or anyone else to distract him.

  If he wasn’t out with people who demanded his attention, he just kept on working the moment he walked into his apartment. It drove the quiet out if he kept his mind busy. It didn’t feel so empty. It wasn’t that he was lonely, exactly. Just restless. He didn’t like slowing down, not for anyone, and especially not for some high maintenance woman who was always going to be asking who was calling him and why he was constantly at work late.

  No, he wasn’t lonely. Just dedicated. At least, that was what he told himself. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure if even he bought it.

  Harry was already at the bar with a beer in his hand. He grinned when he saw Luke and Scott approach. Tipping his drink at them, he asked, “How’s it hanging?”

  “A little to the left,” Luke answered and punched his shoulder.

  Harry was a nice guy to hang out with, calm, up for a joke, but Luke really appreciated that he could also cut the crap, and he could be serious around him. Scott wasn’t the kind of guy Luke spent a lot of time just hanging out with. It wasn’t that they didn’t get along or that they didn’t work well together. On the contrary, Scott had been kind of like Luke’s mentor when he’d first arrived. He had an easy-going personality that made it hard to dislike him. Though their opinions on some things were destined to diverge—namely when it came to women.

  “I just think the best way to get over Julia is to jump in head first.” Scott grinned at him. “If you know what I mean.”

  Luke ignored the implication and the hint to get back on the horse. He wasn’t interested in dating.

  They ordered their drinks and stayed at the bar. Luke leaned onto it and took a sip of his beer. It ran down his throat and washed all the grime of a long day away. He exhaled audibly.

  His phone rang again. This time, he pushed the red button to end the call, not even letting it go to voicemail. He wasn’t going to listen to it, anyway; he never did.

  “What does she want? Is she still pressuring you about the firm?” Harry asked. He’d seen Luke’s mother’s picture pop up on the screen and knew that their relationship was strained at best. Downright volatile, at worst.

  “Don’t know, don’t talk to her,” Luke answered with a shrug.

  Luke hadn’t spoken to his family in months, and it wasn’t just because his mother was pressuring him to be on the board of the law firm when his father retired, either. It was the principle of the thing that made him keep his distance.

  He didn’t want to be associated with them, with all their theatrics and faces, donating to charities because they were ‘such good people’ and had so much money to throw around when they stabbed each other in the back and had affairs in private.

  He’d distanced himself from them and their wealth a long time ago. He didn’t want to be labeled as one of the Upper East Side Blakes. He didn’t want their money, their business, or their reputation. Being a cop was what he’d always wanted to do, and making his own way in life, earning his own money, felt good.

  “This place is crawling with talent,” Scott said, looking around and rubbing his hands together. “We should pick up some girls.”

  “I’m not interested,” Luke said quickly and took another sip of his beer. “Not after Julia. A man needs a break.”

  “I didn’t say you needed to date them. There, over in the corner booth, they’re here alone and they’re not bad looking. Especially the brunette.”

  Luke looked over to where Scott was pointing. A blonde girl with wild hair sat sipping a cocktail, listening intently to a striking brunette. Her blue eyes laughed even when she didn’t. Her friend waved her hands passionately as they spoke, but she couldn’t hold his attention anything like the girl at her side.

  His eyes glanced over her quickly, assessing her long legs, her thin waist, and the black dress that hugged her body. Her curly mass of blonde hair was too wild to tame, but suited her otherwise fragile looks. When her blue eyes locked onto his, he found himself wanting to go over there and talk to her. Not for Scott’s reasons—desperate to get laid, anything for a little tail—but because there was something about the way she—

  His phone rang again. He opened his jacket to reach for his phone, expecting his mother again. But it was Julia’s smiling face he saw on the screen instead. He clicked it off before it could ring again and sipped once more at his beer. Without meaning to, he glanced back to the blonde girl across the room, but she seemed to be deliberately avoiding her gaze now.

  He didn’t know what changed in the span of only a few seconds, but it had been enough to make her interest drop.

  When she turned away, he forced himself to forget about her. He wasn’t interested in starting anything with anyone, even just casually. It didn’t matter how blue her eyes were, how wild her hair looked, or how soft her skin must be to the touch.

  Luke turned back to Scott. “Looks high-maintenance. I just want to have a drink, man,” he said. “You go pick them up if you like, but I’m staying right here.”

  Harry nodded in agreement. He was married to a great woman and never went out to look for ‘talent’, as Scott called it. He just needed to blow off steam sometimes after a hard day at the office before he went home to his happily ever after.

  “Fine,” Scott said and sauntered off towards them. Before he got to the table, though, the pair got up, the brunette swaying like a willow tree in the wind. They left before Scott could even try to play them, but it didn’t matter. He was happy enough to go after another pair, a little sluttier and a little drunker.

  The man didn’t have a lot in the way of standards or preference. A woman for a night was about all he needed.

  “So, your parents hand you a law firm and you’re not talking to them?” Harry asked after Scott was out of earshot.

  “Something like that,” Luke answered vaguely, not interested in starting this conversation.

  “Wish my parents were that nice.”

  Sure. Nice, he thought. Nice like a poisonous flower was nice. It was great, so long as you kept your distance and didn’t breathe too deeply. But instead of saying all of that, of having to explain it, he just shrugged his shoulders.

  “I think you’re too detached,” Harry said, looking out over the crowd. “This whole business is about getting involved with people, looking after them so they’re okay. And you’re the distant drone that does everything by the rules with no one to write home to.”