Indulgence (5 page)

“His job? Or is he just an arrogant asshole for a living?”

Weiss shook his head, puffing out a plume of cigarette smoke.
“You don’t want to know, pretty girl,” he replied. “X is a mean son of a bitch.
Fuck him if you want, but don’t get mixed up in whatever game he’s got going
on. Here.” He held out an envelope. “Pay.”

I snatched it from his fingers. “Thanks.”

Shoving off the desk and making for the door, I figured I
was done asking the stupid questions I already knew the answers to. Stay away
from X. Unfortunately, my pussy didn’t seem to agree.

“Mercy?” Weiss called out.

I turned back, half in and half out of the door. “Yeah?”

“I’m not fucking around. Don’t get involved with X.”

“You worried you'll have to rehire that deadbeat Brock
again?”

He winked. “You've got it.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I can hold my own.”

As the door closed, I vaguely heard Weiss say, “Not against
X, you can’t.”

X

Days upon days of darkness. Beating, blood, pain. Living,
sleeping and eating in my own shit and piss.

When you have a strong mind, it’s a hard thing to break. It
takes a lot of persuasion to make a man forget his own name, but when he
does…fuck when he does forget his name and his soul is hacked away from his
body, that’s when you have a machine to program to your will. And they
programmed him to kill whoever they wanted without remorse.

The room never changed. Only the events leading up to it
did. The beating might’ve been a merciless whipping while tied on the cross, or
it could’ve been hot pokers on the rack searing into flesh…but the room never
changed.

There was a man kneeling in the middle of the murky room that
smelt like my own filth. A sack was over his head, obscuring his identity,
making him a nameless human soon to be a nameless corpse.

“Shoot him,” a different man said. He was standing beside
me, a gun in his outstretched hand. He offered it to me butt first. “Shoot him
and pledge your allegiance.”

Hesitation would mean a bullet in my own head. They’d force
me to my knees and execute me like a dog, but I’d been taught well. Taught so
fucking well that I stepped forward, took the gun, clicked the safety off and
fired.

It wasn’t until the nameless body slumped to the ground,
that I blinked.

*****

Staring at the envelope sitting on my coffee table, I sank
back into the sofa, rubbing my hand over my face. Too many things were keeping
me on edge these days. Okay, so it was only one thing, but even one was too
many.

Weiss practically told me he’d cut my balls off himself if I
fucked with Mercy. What the fuck was with that?

Sighing, I picked up the envelope, trying to get my head
into the game. Too much time off, that’s what was wrong with me. Too much time
idling and fucking random women, getting drunk and licking pussy.

Sykes said there were three possibilities. Three leads.
There was the dead family with one surviving member, the runner who had been
turned as an informant for the cops and the guy who’d been laundering money.

The informant had gone to ground in a safe house and the
cops would never pull a stunt that included sending in a lone woman to put a
bullet in Sykes' head. It would be a strike team dropping by with an arrest
warrant, not a stealth assassination.

The shit who’d been laundering money was stupid enough to
get caught, and I doubted he had the book smarts to plan a hit on Sykes in his
own home. He couldn't even clear his browser history.

The only sure thing was the dead family. Classic revenge
scenario.

It was the lead the Necromancers had followed, but the trail
had gone cold. Tossing aside the other files, I opened the third and laid out
all the papers. There were clippings from the local paper, reports on the
police investigation which had gone cold pretty quickly. Sykes was good at
covering his tracks, I’d give him that. What he lacked finesse in though, was
killing. Laying out the crime scene photos they’d probably bribed out of some
poor kid at the cop shop, I studied them more out of curiosity than anything.

Sykes was a brutal bastard. The young man who’d been the
cause of the trouble had been shot in the head. Another man was on his back on
the floor, half his skull gone from a close quarters shot and a woman was
laying face down in a pool of her own blood. That one right there? She’d been
trying to run away. The next photo confirmed what I knew was the truth. The
bullet had gone clear through her skull. In the back and out the front. Right
between the eyes.

This was a revenge killing, but nowhere in the file did it
mention why. Which meant that it was personal. Sykes had gone himself to do the
job, not a lackey like me, which was the glaring indicator. Whatever this kid
had done, it’d cut Sykes deep, which meant it could go both ways.

Flicking through the papers, I found a picture of the last
surviving member of the family. A daughter a few years younger than the
deadshit that was her brother.

The picture was old, a high school graduation portrait or it
might've been college. The woman looked all debutante and virginal. Baby faced,
blonde, total straight laced with one of those honors ribbons around her neck.
It didn't add up. She didn't look like the type.

Tossing the picture aside, I flicked through the newspaper
clippings.

Alison Crawford, 23, the sole surviving member of her
family who were brutally shot dead in their own home by persons unknown
…

At the bottom of the pile was a missing persons report for
the same woman dated almost a year ago.

It was possible the same woman who’d turned up in Sykes’
house pointing a gun at his head was the same woman in the photograph. The
burning question was, where was Alison Crawford now?

She was looking to get lost…my thoughts began to scramble in
my head and I flung the papers back onto the coffee table. Mercy was looking to
get lost. The raven haired, blue eyed stunner with the smart mouth. Mercy
fucking Reid.

My cock started to swell as I gazed down at the crime scene
photos. Dead bodies, blood, that fucking ass of a contract and a hard fucking
cock…Mercy fucking Reid.

I was a monster.

I didn’t have time to play this game with her. I needed…I
needed to fuck then I could do what I was meant to. Then I could concentrate.

My obsession with Mercy Reid was affecting my ability to do
my job. It was time to stick my cock in her and be done with it.

Grabbing my keys, I locked the door behind me, thumped down
the stairs and into the parking garage. Kicking my motorcycle into life, I
shoved on my helmet and roared out of the lot and onto the street. The city
passed in a blur as I ducked through the late night traffic, splitting lanes
and running amber lights. My balls were really starting to feel painfully tight
and if I didn’t come in Mercy’s cunt soon, I was sure my cock would fall off.

The Gambler’s Inn was quiet when I arrived. It was past
midnight, right on closing and I hoped she was still inside because I didn’t
have the patience to pick the lock and go through Weiss’ crap to find out her
details.

Hovering just inside the door, I saw Mercy closing down the
bar for the night. It was empty, the usual garage rock soundtrack switched off.
Weiss’ bike was gone and the street outside was like a ghost town.

It was like my cock had its own brain and knew exactly when
to turn up and turn on.

Perfect.

I was done waiting.

Mercy

The door slammed shut and my gaze snapped up and collided
with X.

He stood there in his leather jacket looking almost manic
and my heart skipped a beat. He looked…hungry.

“What do you want?” I snapped, pissed that he had turned up
right on closing, obviously on the prowl. “We’re closing.”

He stalked forward through the empty pub, leaned over the
bar, fisted his hand into my shirt and pulled me sharply toward him. Before I
could react, his mouth pressed against mine and his lips were warm and
hard…everything I’d reluctantly fantasized about. If it wasn’t for the bar
between us, I’m sure I’d be rubbing up against him right about now.

His tongue licked into my mouth, caressing my own and I
think I moaned, but I was too startled to give a fuck. He pulled back just as
sharply, letting me go, and stood there just staring at me like I was something
to eat.

Fuck. Me.

My chest heaved as I gulped down air like I was drowning. I
was a fucking stunned mullet.

“Lock up,” X commanded, his gaze never leaving mine.

“I-”

“Mercy.”

My name rolled off his tongue like a fucking aphrodisiac and
I dropped the dishcloth on the floor, my fingers losing all sensation.

His lip curled in satisfaction at my reaction as I fumbled
for my keys, going for the door. I was such a fucking idiot. X was…I didn’t
know what X was but it wasn’t anything good. I locked the door, flipping the
three deadbolts home with a loud click that was amplified by the tension that
had risen in the air. I could feel his gaze burning into my back, traveling
over my ass and I shivered.

Turning, I found X still standing where I left him, only
this time he’d taken off his jacket, his tight black T-shirt hugging the
muscles in his chest. Taking a tentative step forward, I hesitated when he
sprang to life, striding across the pub and yanking my body against his.

He claimed my lips, licking into my mouth again in one long
stroke. This time he didn’t pull away, backing me against the wall, deepening
the kiss. I shoved my hands into his hair, clawing at his scalp, tasting him
like I couldn't get enough. My breasts ached against my T-shirt, wanting his
touch and my pussy flared into life as I started to grind against him.

X pressed his chest into mine as I rubbed my tits against
him, his hips pinning mine in place as we ground our parts together through our
clothes, dry humping against the wall. Fuck, I was pretty experienced when it
came to sex, I’d done it plenty of places and in plenty of ways, but we were
still fully clothed and I was already teetering on the edge.

It was overwhelming and I never got overwhelmed by a man. I
was always in control. I needed to be, especially now and especially with X.

I tore my lips from his and he clamped down on my neck,
sinking his teeth into my skin. He obviously liked it rough and I quivered at
the thought of him fucking me hard. He was dominant all the way. Problem was, I
had a hard time doing the submissive thing. I wanted to cause him pain too. I
wondered if he liked being hit by a woman.

I moaned loudly, shoving my palms against his chest.

X’s gaze met mine, full of fire, and I almost caved.

“It’s just fucking,” he said, reading my expression way too
precisely.

“Why?”

“Why the fuck not?” He pushed me roughly against the wall
again, grinding his hard-on against my lower stomach. Lowering his head, he ran
the tip of his nose along my neck and into my hair, breathing deeply. “Don’t
you like to fuck, Mercy?”

“I like to fuck,” I hissed.

“Then stop trying to control everything,” he murmured
against my skin.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I gasped as his teeth
dragged against my neck.

“It's my job to be in control,” he growled, thrusting his
hips forward, his cock rubbing against my cleft. “Good for you and even better
for me.”

“What if I don’t want to give it to you?”

X growled...he actually growled this deep throaty rumble
that vibrated through his chest into mine. “I want to slide my cock into you,”
he said. “I want to feel your arousal coat my skin, because by the time I'm
through with you, you'll be so fucking wet you'll beg me to put you out of your
misery.”

“That's where you're wrong,” I gasped. “I don't beg.”

He thrust a hand into my hair and tugged hard, sending
splinters of pain shooting through my scalp.

Running his tongue the length of my jaw before brushing his
lips against mine, he breathed, “You will.”

He pulled me by the hair, dragging me across the pub and
shoved open the door to Weiss’ office, pushing me over the desk. Turning, I
raised my right hand to slap him, but he grasped my wrist and then the other as
I tried to claw him with my left.

X jerked me close rubbing his cock against my thigh.

“Do you want to fuck, Mercy? Do you? I’m not a fucking
rapist, so tell me now. If it’s no, I’ll never touch you again.”

I shivered against him, my gaze firmly stuck on his. X was a
hard motherfucker to read, but he couldn’t mask his cock and his cock said it
wanted me. My pussy was aching with a dull throb that needed to be rubbed.
Yeah, I wanted to fuck.

Letting myself go slack, he uncurled his fingers and smashed
his lips into mine. My entire body flared into life with millions of tiny
fireworks as he forced his way into my mouth, his tongue twining greedily with
mine. Hands fisted into my hair, holding me firmly in place as he devoured me,
pushing his cock roughly into my stomach.

I clawed at his T-shirt, shoving my hands underneath,
rubbing the flats of my palms up over his stomach and clamped my fingers down
over his nipples, pinching hard. He tore away with a moan, yanked the material
up over his head and flung it over his shoulder.

The tattoo that I’d noticed peeking out from his collar was
a black and grey tribal design, not the shitty kind that sports jocks got for
kicks, it looked like traditional tribal from the wilds of the Amazon
rainforest. It covered the left half of his chest, wrapping around his ribs and
disappearing onto his back. It crawled all the way over his shoulder and up his
neck and I stared at it, wondering what it meant. There was a hollow space,
right where his heart should be.