Marked by Measha Stone

Author:Measha Stone [Stone, Measha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Heart Publications
Published: 2024-09-13T00:00:00+00:00

Harley stands at the kitchen island with a greeting card in her hand.

She hands the card to me. “Who’re Brian and Abigail?”

I read the thank you note quickly.

Thanks for the use of the place. Happy Hunting!

Love, Abigail and Brian.

“Friends.” I put the card down.

“This place belongs to you? You own it?” She pushes a hip into the island as I walk away to the fridge and grab a bottle of water.

“I do.” I take a long drink of the cool water, while my eyes devour the deliciousness of her in my kitchen. I don’t use the place often. Chicago isn’t my favorite city, but sometimes I need a place to let things cool where no one knows who I am, and I can blend into the craziness.

“This bunch of roses.” She picks up the card again, and points to the black and red roses embossed on the top of the stationary card. “You have the same tattoo on your chest.”

I swallow another gulp of crisp water.

“That’s right. I do.”

“What does it mean?” She eyes the handwriting on the card. Abigail wrote it, I can tell by the elegant script.

“It’s the symbol for the group I work with.” It’s the easiest way to explain it. “Sort of like a hunting club.” I half smile.

“I thought you said you were a Marine before.”

I nod, screwing the cap on the bottle. She’s been given a blow. Everything is going to come into question until she finds her solid footing again.

“That’s right. I was. Now I work with a different sort of organization.”

“Doing what? I mean, how can you afford a place like this?” She folds her arms over her stomach, propping up her breasts. A bandage covers my artwork. Our initials. Hers plus mine.

There’s no question now.

She and I belong to each other.

“I told you what I do, Harley.” I slide along the island until I’m right in front of her.

“How does that translate into a penthouse on Michigan Avenue?” She’s getting more demanding in her questions.

I lift a finger to her jawline, tracing the tension there.

“Just because the military couldn’t let me operate officially within their ranks, doesn’t mean I completely walked away.”

Her eyes widen. “Are you telling me that the Marines pay you to hunt down these monsters? And other people, too?”

“Not the Marines.” I drop my hand from her cheek. “There’s no official branch that covers this sort of thing. You won’t find an item line on any budget for us.”

She tilts her a little to the side. “You’re kind of like one of those comic book heroes my dad loved so much, aren’t you?” Her lips, full and pink, kick up to the side. “A dark caped crusader?”

I laugh, and it feels so fucking good. In my kitchen, with her, my mark fresh on her skin, a smile on her pretty lips.

“No, little bird. I don’t think I’m anyone’s hero.”

“You’re mine.” She grabs my hand and squeezes. Hard. “You’re the first person who wanted to get to the truth. Even the doctors always pushed for me to move on, to try and focus on the future, not the past.

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