Mercy (12 page)

Jarrett ran his business with an iron fist and historically relegated women to the roles of dates and temporary sexual partners, never permanent and always living separately from him. Becca broke that mold, and no amount of crushing his will or wrecking his life seemed to change that.

“That’s fucking ridiculous.” Elijah shook his head. “Jarrett is a grown man, and a smart one.”

Wade didn’t disagree, but Elijah was missing the bigger point “He’s still human.”

“Wait a second.” Elijah stopped walking and grumbling long enough to focus on Wade. “You’re saying Jarrett told you how he feels about her?”

“Didn’t have to. I’ve known him a long time.” Wade had seen Jarrett attracted and intrigued. This thing with Becca was a totally different ballgame.

“The two of you are close.”

It was the way Elijah said it that had Wade leaning against the back of the couch. “As friends.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Not sexual partners.” Though in the midst of an alcohol-induced state after losing Becca, Jarrett wondered aloud, circled the idea. Wade knew the bright light of sobriety would prove that a huge mistake, so he dumped Jarrett in bed and stood watch until morning. He doubted Jarrett even remembered.

“You’ve been together since back when you lived on the streets.” Elijah said the words as he moved across the room. By the time he hit the last syllable, he leaned on the arm of the couch, facing Wade.

He didn’t know where this was going, but he’d shared these pieces of his past in week two or three of having Elijah here, so there was no harm in agreeing now. “Yeah.”

“Back when you did everything to survive.”

“Eli, what are you—”

“Talking about you.” The heated look on his face suggested Eli was done talking about Jarrett.

“Why?”

“You’re more interesting than your boss.”

“I think most people would disagree.”

“You’re the one I want to fuck.” Elijah maneuvered around the edge of the couch so fast he was practically on top of Wade.

That’s all it took to send Wade’s pulse racing. “I thought we were arguing about Jarrett.”

“I have other things on my mind.” Elijah slipped his hands under Wade’s tee and trailed the tips over his stomach.

Not that Wade fought the move. “Like?”

Elijah walked around, skimming his hands up and taking Wade’s tee off with them. They shifted until Wade stood next to the armrest with Elijah behind him. Then came the brush of Eli’s lips over Wade’s ear and the fit of his body against Wade’s back.

“Feeling that beard against my cock.” Eli kissed Wade’s neck, scraping the skin with his teeth. “Sliding into you.”

The mix of the words and touching hit Wade like an electric jolt. “I’m not saying no.”

“That’s one of the things I like about you.”

“What?” A hand slid over Wade’s chest while the other traveled lower.

“The way you say yes.” Elijah rubbed the material over Wade’s cock. Back and forth, slow and steady, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “So damn good.”

The friction of Wade’s jeans against skin built into a blinding heat there. He didn’t realize he was holding a breath until it hissed out of him. “Let’s go—”

The words cut off when Elijah pushed. Wade put his hands out to stop the fall and ended up bent over, balanced on the armrest, with Elijah’s cock pressed against his ass. The layers of clothing didn’t matter. Certainly didn’t provide a barrier that couldn’t be shredded in a frenzy to get at each other.

“I’m thinking to take you over the couch. Maybe throw you on the bed and watch your face as I fuck you.” Elijah kissed his way down the side of Wade’s throat and around to the sensitive spot at the base of the back of his neck. “Or do you want to be on your knees with me in your mouth?”

The words rumbled against Wade’s skin. This side of Elijah, a little rough and full of need, broke Wade’s will every time. He didn’t have a shield for this. Couldn’t figure out how to say no and mean it.

“Couch,” he whispered, surprised by the low grumble of his voice.

“Don’t move.” Elijah put his hand on the center of Wade’s back and pressed down. “Not an inch.”

“What are you—”

“You better be in this position when I get back.”

“Or?” Wade forced the words out over the want churning in his gut.

“Be patient and you’ll be rewarded.” The last of Elijah’s words faded as he slipped out of sight and into the bedroom.

Wade shifted, keeping his hands on the arm of the couch. He twisted and turned until he saw Elijah come right back out, having shed his shirt and in the middle of opening his pants.

Wade could barely see, barely hear over the thrashing of excitement inside him. “You going to tell me what we’re doing?”

A tube of lube landed with a thump on the cushion in front of Wade.

Eli laughed. “Guess.”

“Here on the couch?”

“That’s right.” Elijah lifted Wade just enough to undo the button on his jeans and plunge a hand deep inside his fly. “Are you ready for me?”

“Damn.” Wade threw back his head, loving the weight of Eli’s body over his shoulders and the brush of hair against his cheek. “Yes.”

Wade’s jeans dipped on his hips. With a tug and a shove, they fell past his knees. Since he hadn’t bothered to wear underwear, the striptease left him bare and ready. His cock twitched when Elijah ran his palm up and down his length. Then his fingers curled around him and Wade’s vision blurred.

“Are you sure?” Elijah glanced over Wade’s shoulder as his hand pumped up and down. “Well, you do look like you’re getting there.”

His breathing hiccupped as he slipped his palms over the outside of Elijah’s thighs. Anything to touch him and be close. “Damn right.”

“If you’re a very good boy, I’ll let you come.” Eli kissed Wade’s hair. “Then we’ll move to the bed and try it again.”

“Elijah, please.”

“I love how you say my whole name, all drawn out and hot, when you want me inside you. Very sexy.” With a hand pressed on the groove between Wade’s shoulder blades, Elijah pressed down again and didn’t let up until Wade was bent over with his ass in the air. Then Elijah kissed a line down Wade’s bare spine. “In a few minutes you’ll scream it.”

Wade gave up all control in this position. Eli would dominate the tempo and the thrusts. Wade knew from experience he could plead but he’d remain powerless. When he saw Elijah reach for the tube and felt the cool gel rub all over his ass, Wade stopped thinking.

He dropped his head and let the sensations tumble over him. The heat of Elijah’s body. The push of fingers inside him, readying the way for a firm and eager cock. The kick of longing so strong it had Wade’s knees buckling.

When he felt Elijah’s tip move against him everything else washed away, slipping inside.

“Fuck,” Wade said as he forced his muscles to relax.

Elijah bit down on the tight muscle at the back of Wade’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m definitely going to fuck you.”

Pain mixed with pleasure. “Then move.”

Elijah licked the spot he’d bitten. “Ask nicely.”

“Damn it, Eli—”

Firm hands settled on Wade’s hips. The full and intense penetration started a second later.

“Consider this Round One.” Then Elijah finally started to move.

THIRT
E
EN

The next morning Becca hugged Jarrett’s shirt close to her body. The crisp cloth hung on her, reaching down her thighs.

She’d never been the fanciful type. When other little girls dreamed of big weddings, she worried about having enough food. Instead of poufy white dresses, she practiced how to pack up her few possessions and get back on the road in less than two minutes, per her father’s insistence. The question of whether she’d have to hide from police or nosy neighbors trumped fairy-tale endings.

Becoming a fighting machine followed from her messed-up childhood. She used to beat up anyone who made fun of her and played grand mental games where she created new identities and spun wild tales of what her life would be. Sliding into the role of professional identity-changer as a grown-up actually seemed right. Predestined, even.

When her job had required sex with men to get information, she separated her mind from her body. When she killed, she’d hang on to the knowledge she was doing good. Never mind that she had trouble sleeping or couldn’t trust anyone ever. Well, except one.

Her fingers slipped down the row of tiny white buttons as she stared at Jarrett’s closed bedroom door. This was the last level of privacy she hadn’t breached. He ordered her to keep out and she had. But the door pulled her like some sort of magnetic connection that kept sucking her in.

Even though she knew there could be something important behind that door, she’d waited. Because the idea of going into the room she once shared with Jarrett turned out to be the step too far.

Living in the guest room, she could trick her brain into thinking she’d maintained detachment. Enjoyed the sex and handed over her body but kept her mind her own. But it was all bullshit. They’d mentally raced around each other, shouting their respective positions, each thinking the other committed the greater past wrong. At this point she no longer knew what was right or real.

All those years of killing on command ended with a death squad on her tail. That shifted life back into perspective. The one man she could trust just might be the one she handed over to the CIA. That made her the betrayer, an idea that doubled her over in sidesplitting pain.

Which is why her hand hesitated on the doorknob now. She didn’t want to search the room. She wanted a specific shirt. The one he last wore. The trade would only take a second and she’d be out again.

Before she could think twice, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. Standing on the threshold, she peeked inside. The king-sized bed with the light gray comforter dominated the large room. The furniture fit the rest of the house—clean lines, no clutter, taking up minimal space.

The doorway on the wall to her left led to a massive walk-in closet. The type with drawers and a chair in the center. She knew because she helped him design it. Changed it from a large room with a single bar on each wall to something usable.

Beyond that sat the bathroom with the marble floors and jetted tub. Memories bombarded her brain. The two of them relaxing in there, making love under the water spray.

She shook her head, trying to push out the stray pieces of the life she left behind eight months ago. This was a mission for the comfort of his scent and nothing more.

Tiptoeing across the plush rug, because for some reason that felt right, she looked around for any sign of the clothes he wore the night before. As expected, they’d been put away in whatever place he assigned them. He traditionally used a cleaning service, but she hadn’t seen evidence of it since she got here. Not that the man needed help. He kept the place pristine and likely deserved a kickback from the service he paid.

Anxiety kept welling inside her, spurring her to move quickly. She glanced around when a tingling sensation crept over her. She’d felt the prickling at the base of her neck often enough to heed the warning and not linger.

Unless he changed his habits, and he was not a man prone to change, the laundry and dry-cleaning baskets sat just inside the closet against the wall. She pushed the door open and clicked on the light.

And stopped cold.

“What the hell?” It couldn’t be.

Ignoring her stated task and the possibility of detection, she walked to the right side of the closet as if in a trance. Her feet carried her, but her brain kept misfiring. Starting at one end, she ran her fingers over the item on each hangar. Black pants. A few shirts. That dress Jarrett bought for her to satisfy his fantasy of running his hands up underneath it.

Nothing expensive or fancy.

All of it hers.

He hadn’t changed a thing. Each piece of clothing waited in the same place she’d assigned it. The discovery was right there. She could see the evidence and say the words, but the reality of what it all meant refused to settle in.

Her stuff. None of it moved. She just assumed he sold it or threw it away. Hell, with the way they ended it was conceivable he’d set it all on fire. That’s probably what she would have done had the roles been reversed.

Her mind flashed to the exercise clothes he set at the end of the bed in a stack. They didn’t just
look
like hers. They
were
hers.

She turned, thinking to check the drawers in the bedroom for T-shirts and bras and anything else she may have left behind. Pivoting on her heel, she ran right into Jarrett’s broad chest. He caught her arms before she fell over and held her there.

“Jarrett?”

“You set off the alarm,” he said in a flat voice.

Seeing him there, so sudden and out of context to what she found made it even harder to understand what he was saying. “What?”

“If anyone enters my bedroom or office without typing in the proper code, an alarm goes off on my phone.”

The calm demeanor scared her. He should be yelling and talking about his rules and her failure to listen. Anything but the painful emotion-free affect.

She said the only thought she could hold in her head through the waves of confusion. “I’ve been in and out of your office since the first day. You didn’t come running then.”

“I disengaged that one. Left this one on.”

“Because you assumed I’d come in here.”

“Didn’t you?” There was no heat in his voice. No disappointment or excitement. Nothing.

“For a shirt.”

He rubbed the material over her shoulder between two fingers. “You’re wearing one.”

“I wanted a different one.” The excuse sounded ridiculous in her head and even sillier out loud. She tried to shake the haze out of her brain and search for the right words, but she couldn’t get there.

No matter what argument she tried to frame, her mind zoomed back to the fact her clothes were on hangers a few feet away. It was as if she never left. All by the man who hated her, vowed to destroy her and tried to break her will when he forced her to strip off her clothes in his office.

Liking her for sex or even the company was one thing. Keeping reminders of her near him was another. It struck her as some sort of strange self-punishment. The only thing that made sense was he kept it all as a reminder of how she lied to him so he’d never travel down that risky road again, but even that didn’t make much sense. Not to a man like Jarrett who demanded loyalty and thrived on control.

“Why do you need another shirt?” he asked.

She couldn’t exactly say she wanted to smell him while he was gone. At this point she wasn’t sure what she could and should tell him. “I liked the blue one you had on yesterday.”

“As far as subterfuge goes, you can do better than this.”

He thought she was on another operation. Plotting against him. God, they talked past each other and around each other and so rarely to each other.

“I wasn’t searching for anything in your bedroom.”

“Okay.”

From the drawl, she knew he didn’t believe her. Rather than debate, she focused on her question. “Why is all my stuff here?”

He never broke eye contact. “I never got around to throwing it out.”

“And you can do better with lies than that, Jarrett,” she said, parroting his words back to him.

His hands dropped to his sides. “I don’t actually owe you an explanation.”

She missed the warmth of his hands the second he broke contact. “Okay, I know this looks like—”

“What?” For the first time emotion seeped into his voice. He almost barked the word.

Forget her mistake. She wanted to focus on his choices. “It looks like you were waiting for me to come back to the condo.”

“No.” He turned and walked out of the closet.

“Then what is it? It looks like a weird shrine.” When he stopped, she hurried to stand in front of him again. With both arms on his forearms, she squeezed until he looked at her. “I mean, what did the other women you brought up here say about all of this? One of them had to notice.”

“No.”

“Did you use the guest bedroom?” Her stomach rolled at the thought. Bile rushed right up her throat and fought to get out. She concentrated all her energy on not throwing up on his shoes.

“I mean you are the only woman who’s been up here.”

Yeah, right
. “You expect me to believe you haven’t had sex for eight months.”

“I didn’t say that.”

The words, so unexpected, hit her like a slap. Her head actually snapped back. The news shouldn’t matter or surprise her, but it did. “So then what?”

“You want a number?”

“God, no.” She really wanted him to stop looking at her with those dead eyes. Stop answering in short, clipped sentences. Never mention sex or other women again.

“None of them came up here.”

“None?” That made it sound like he had a damn list and ran through it one by one. “That sounds like there was a waiting line once I was gone.”

A spark of fire lit in his eyes as he pointed at her. “You don’t get to judge me or who I fuck. You gave that up when you had your team arrest me before I pulled up my zipper.”

Damn but he was right. His personal life, his sexual exploits, did not fall within her right to know. But the idea of it being so easy for him to move on sliced at her until she expected to see a thin line of blood welling across her stomach.

“I was making a statement about the other women in your life,” she said.

But he was already talking. “You left me.”

The words robbed her of breath for a second. “I don’t want to fight about this.”

“Then you should have obeyed my rule and stayed out of this one room.”

There it was. Finally he circled back around to his requirements for giving her shelter. For some reason, the consistency gave her comfort. She could handle this debate. It wasn’t as if she had an excuse for being in there anyway. Not one he’d believe.

With her chin up, she looked him straight in the eye. “You’re right.”

She expected a grunt of satisfaction. A smile. Something positive. He didn’t give her any of that.

He frowned as his hands went to his hips. “Now what game are we playing?”

“You lost me.”

“You’re not exactly one to abandon a fight. We once argued about Chinese food restaurants for ten minutes until you admitted you hadn’t tried either of the ones we were considering for takeout.”

Guilty
. The character flaw rose up at the oddest times. But the bigger point was she could not win this battle. Laying out the specifics of her side meant opening herself up and telling him how broken she had been back then. How, after a lifetime of jumping to her feet and moving forward, losing him drove her to her knees. Days of blankness and those stupid bouts of crying. She’d never considered medication until her life tilted and nothing made sense.

She’d cried three times in her life—when her father took her, when she returned to Pennsylvania after all those years away and found out her mother had already died. And when she realized she’d fallen in love with the type of man she’d always despised and hunted down—a sick liar who endangered everyone he met.

Nothing in that definition matched the man in front of her or the one she lived with without seeing even a hint of drugs. Back then she couldn’t get out of the emotional tailspin enough to question all she’d been told and seen. If Jarrett hadn’t meant so much, she could have separated all the pieces out. When it came to him, she lost perspective and slipped back to the green newbie she was on the first day of training.

But she could question the extent of his real role in everything now. Can and did. The drugs, the way Spectrum imploded, how he got out of trouble so fast . . . and why he let her in the club and his bed without launching an attack of revenge.

When she investigated Spectrum’s demise, she planned to reopen the file on Jarrett and dig around like she should have when Todd ordered the takedown. If Jarrett’s name should be cleared, she would figure out a way to get the job done.

Until she could fix everything else, she needed his help, which meant owning up to her mistake today and blocking out the rest. “I messed up.”

“Fine.”

He walked out of the bedroom, leaving her standing in the middle of the room. Whatever she thought would happen, this wasn’t it. She also never thought she’d be the type to go running after a man, but she was doing that as well.

Before she could say anything he tapped his finger on the stack of files sitting on the kitchen counter. “These are for you.”

She skidded to a halt on the floor. “What are you talking about?”

“Here is your password.” He held up a piece of paper that had been folded in half. “You can use the setup in the office. It will also give you access to watch the club’s security monitors, except for those on the second floor.”

The world kept spinning and she didn’t know how to catch up. “What’s happening?”

“I’m giving you access. Limited, but still more than I planned.” He flipped the edge of the files. “Wade’s place, storage, the conference room. Those are off the table. You stay on this floor and I’ll provide what you need.”

She’d been on the second floor a few times, mostly to watch movies on the big screen mounted to the conference room wall. But all but one time Jarrett accompanied her. On that occasion she’d poked around and seen the crash pad Jarrett said he kept up just in the rare case of a special member being unable to return home.