Page 25 of Past Due

Chapter Seven

Relief surged through Besian with every step he took toward Marley. Even though Zec had assured him she was safe in Valbona and on her way to Shkodër, he didn’t believe it until he saw her in the flesh.

And, fuck, did she look good. His fingers itched to comb through her glistening auburn hair. He wanted to sweep his hands down her sun kissed skin and claim that pouty, stubborn mouth of hers. He wanted to embrace her, trap her close to his chest and never let her go again.

“Besian,” Marley said, her gentle voice soothing his raw nerves. She removed her sunglasses, revealing the greenish blue eyes that haunted his dreams. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” The relief he felt vanished only to be replaced by frustration and anger with how reckless she had been. “Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone? What were you thinking running off into the mountains like that? Alone? In your condition?”

“My condition?” she asked, taken aback. “I’m perfectly fine, Besian.”

“You just had heart surgery.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was a simple procedure!”

“They burned your heart tissue!”

“Where was all this worry,” she gestured wildly, “when I was in the hospital and you never even came to visit?”

Neatly put in his place, Besian shut his mouth. Before he could try to apologize, a man who had been hovering nearby interrupted. When the younger and much handsomer man put his hand on Marley, Besian swallowed a possessive growl that threatened to erupt from his throat.

“Are you okay?” The man shot Besian a mistrustful glance. “Is this guy hassling you?”

“Mind your own business,” Besian snarled. “We’re having a discussion that doesn’t include you.”

“Look, man, I don’t know who you are,” the Spaniard—if Besian had to guess by his accent—stepped in front of Marley, “but you don’t tell me what to do when it comes to my friend.”

“Andres,” she said, touching the other man’s chest in a way that made Besian’s stomach lurch painfully. “It’s okay. Besian is my friend from Houston.”

Andres scowled. “The strip club guy?”

Hating how cheap and dirty the other man made his businesses sound, Besian bristled. Marley shot him a pleading look, silently asking him not to make a scene. Acquiescing to her request, he said, “Tell your friend goodbye. We’re leaving.”

Not giving her a chance to argue, he stepped away to give them a few moments of privacy. He slipped his sunglasses back into place and gritted his teeth when Andres dared to kiss her cheek and then her lips. It was a chaste kiss, barely a brush of his mouth against hers, but it spoke of a relationship between them.

Gutted by the realization he had fucked around and lost her to this new man, he glared behind his sunglasses. Fuck that Spaniard. Fuck him and his pretty boy smile and hair.

Marley turned back toward him—where she belonged—and he counted the steps until she was right in front of him. With an irritated sigh, she said, “I am not going to be ordered around like one of your dancing girls.”

“You could never be one of my dancing girls.”

She frowned up at him. “What does that mean?”

“As beautiful as you are, there would be riots at the front doors every night.”

She seemed even more upset. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” She held up her hand. “You know what? Don’t answer that!” With a loud of huff, she asked, “Why are you here?”

Knowing there was no easy way to break the news, he said, “Something happened back home.”

Her entire demeanor shifted. Panic flashed in her eyes. “Is it Aston? The baby?”

“No, no,” he stepped closer and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Aston is healthy. The baby is healthy. Ben is fine.”

She frowned. “Then...what?”

Daring to touch her the way he had wanted for so long, he slid his hand from her shoulder to her neck and up to her jaw. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, marveling at the velvet softness of her skin and hoping she would find comfort in his touch. “The MC was raided by the ATF. There was a shootout.”

She gasped, and her hand flew up, gripping his wrist. “Is Spider dead?”

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