Second-in-Command (Men of Hidden Justice 2)

“I guess you don’t buy many herbs at the store.”

“Nope. Puttering here relaxes me. Like cooking.”

“Have you always liked to cook?”

He knelt next to a large pot, sifting in the dirt, repositioning a stake. “My parents had a restaurant—not far from here, actually. I practically grew up in the kitchen. They both loved to cook and passed that on to me, I suppose.”

“Do they still have it?”

He stood, brushing off his knees. “No,” he said tersely. “They’re both gone.” He turned his back, focusing his attention on another pot. Knowing I had hit a sore spot, I didn’t ask any other questions. I stood and wandered close to the edge, peering into the streets. Marcus joined me, not speaking.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing to a parking lot a couple of streets down. It appeared busy with lots of traffic, but I couldn’t read the sign.

“The Great Canadian Superstore,” he replied. “Groceries, drugstore, clothing, and other things. Sofia probably got your clothes there.”

“Oh.”

“You need more. You’ve been wearing them or my shirts for days.”

“Not like I have anywhere to go or anyone to see,” I commented lightly.

“Hmm,” was his only reply.

“I like shopping in small doses. We don’t have big centers like that in the small town I’m from. I’d like to see it.”

He glanced at me. “Maybe,” was all he said.

I sat down, thinking about him. He was never far from my thoughts. As I set down my coffee, I saw some cash and a list on the table. I pulled it toward me.

Clothes

Shoes

Maybe boots and a coat?

Whatever else you want to buy—you know better than me.

Under the list and money was a pass card.

I blinked. Had Marcus left the money for me? I looked around as if expecting someone else in the apartment, but I was alone. Sofia wasn’t here—no one was. She had checked me over yesterday and had planned to come back to see me today, but she wasn’t here. Who else could he have left the money for? I stood and glanced out the window at the store he had pointed out. The large sign suddenly beckoned.

Was he giving me permission to walk over to the store and buy a few things?

I knew the front elevator needed a pass card and bypassed the second floor. The back one was private, only accessible from the parking garage, and required multiple steps to gain entry. I held up the pass card I had found on the table, feeling the fluttering of excitement. I was feeling better. A little stronger each day. If I walked slowly, I could go to the store and pick out some items I needed. I would pay him back. It would be nice to have something to wear that was different and I didn’t have to wash every other day to wear again.

I looked at the radio. Maybe I should call and ask him. I started to reach for the radio, then changed my mind and tossed my hair. I didn’t need his permission—I was a grown woman. He was helping me—I wasn’t a prisoner. I could take care of myself. It was broad daylight, and I would be in public. No one was looking for me since they thought I was dead. Marcus must have realized that and decided I could go out today if I wanted. He’d left everything here for me to find it, so I didn’t need to ask. I picked up the money off the table.

I was going.

Chapter Seven

Marcus

I stared at the screen, rereading the data in front of me. The more intel I found on the elusive Xander, the more desperate I was to find him. Discover his true identity and flush him out. Eliminate him and everything he touched. I wanted him erased from the earth.

To never be able to hurt another innocent. And to ensure Missy’s safety.

I was in a foul mood. I had hardly slept all night, the temptation of Missy beside me beginning to be too much to resist. She was everywhere now. In my home, my bed, my thoughts. Watching over her during the day was hard enough, being close to her all the time and not able to touch or kiss her the way I wanted. At night, it was torture lying beside her, feeling her body tight to mine. I couldn’t even trust myself to join her under the covers. I longed to slide my hands under the shirt she wore and caress her skin. Kiss the marks and bruises with my mouth and taste her sweetness. Hear pleasured whimpers fall from her mouth instead of the painful inhales of air or low moans of terror she let out while asleep. But she was healing, confused, and way younger than me. Her inexperience was a factor as well. I didn’t want to add to her already chaotic state of mind. I didn’t want to be a stopover in her life, and I wasn’t sure she was ready for the feelings she brought out in me. I had almost lost it on her the other day—if Sofia hadn’t interrupted us, I wasn’t sure her injuries, age, or lack of experience would have stopped me. Every day, my control slipped a little more.