“Motherfucker’s probably sitting on a royal flush,” Steel grumbled around his cigar, throwing his cards down after sorting them.
“Heard he’s sitting on some hot piece of ass. Why the fuck does he get the fucking sweet jobs, when the rest of us get stuck with the shit?” Walker griped.
Mercy slid his gaze to Walker. “Babysitting some woman ain’t a sweet job. There’s no fucking action.”
Or at least not the kind of action he normally got off on.
“So you get a short vacay with eye candy. D said her tits are—” Brick’s eyes lifted to something behind Mercy.
Mercy’s spine stiffened, and he knew exactly who was behind him. He hated people approaching him from the rear.
He couldn’t fight the sneer as he noticed Brick eyeballing Rissa up.
It wasn’t a threat assessment, either. Mercy knew exactly when Brick’s gaze followed the curve of her tits, the tuck of her waist, the flare of her hips. Mercy tipped his head left, then right as his fingers curled into his palms and every muscle in his body went solid.
A breathy “Hi, boys,” came from behind him and he shot to his feet, almost knocking his chair backwards to the floor.
Fucking motherfucker.
He spun on his heels and took two long strides to where she stood, wearing those black fucking yoga pants that were like a second skin. And now she had on one of those camisole thingies again, one that was as tight as the casing around an overstuffed sausage link.
“I was just upstairs reading and I heard—”
She oofed when Mercy grabbed her arm and began to drag her backwards through the kitchen.
“Yo, Mercy! Dude! What the fuck you doing?” Steel yelled, jumping to his feet.
Mercy stopped short and glanced down at Rissa. Her face was pale, her blue eyes wide. Those lips of hers parted.
Did he scare her?
Good.
She shouldn’t be interested in having more sex with him. They were in that house for a reason, and it wasn’t to play sexual romper room.
Or sexual roulette since he had been a stupid fuck and fucked her without a condom.
He was there because she was a goddamn job. That was it. A fucking job.
“Brother,” Steel rumbled low next to him.
Mercy sucked air through flared nostrils and forced himself to release her arm. Steel knew better than to touch him, so he didn’t, but he stood close. Within arm’s reach.
Ready in case he was needed.
He wasn’t.
Mercy gave him a sharp nod, indicating shit was under control. Spinning on his heels, he went back to his seat, grabbed the Jack, twisted off the cap and poured about an inch in the glass that had been sitting empty in front of him.
It had been empty because he was in the middle of a job and he shouldn’t be drinking.
But now he needed a fucking drink.
And there were four other Shadows from his team sitting in that kitchen. If shit hit the fan, that shit was covered like flies on roadkill.
Brick, Walker and Hunter settled back into their seats, their eyes pinned on him. Ignoring them, he knocked back the whiskey and slammed the glass on the table. “We’ve got poker to play.”
As one, the rest of the guys visibly relaxed and he heard behind him, “I... I’ll just head back upstairs. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was only going to ask if you could crack the window because of the smoke.”
All eyes slid from Mercy back to the woman behind him.
“You don’t need to go back upstairs. You don’t need to hide,” Steel told Rissa, his normally gruff voice uncharacteristically smooth and soft.
Mercy gritted his teeth.
Yes, she fucking did. She needed to go back the fuck upstairs to get away from these dogs who probably all had bones.
Steel continued, “We don’t bite... at least most of us. We’ll crack open the sliding glass door.”
Suddenly Hunter was up from his seat doing just that. What the fuck.
Mercy scrubbed his hands over his face, and by the time he was done, he made sure his expression was blank. He was not giving these assholes any fodder to bust his balls. “Are we going to play poker or what?”
As Steel and Hunter settled back in their seats, the hair on the back of Mercy’s neck stood.
She was still behind him. Standing there. Breathing. Why didn’t she go back upstairs to read?
Why was she letting them all fuck her with their eyes?
“You done?” he barked, not turning around.
“I’ll just grab a glass of wine first, if that’s okay with you, boss,” she said. While the words were said softly, they held an edge.
Steel snorted and jammed his cigar back between his lips. Hunter dropped his head and studied the back of his cards intently, since they were lying face down on the table. Walker rubbed a hand over his lower face, trying to hide a grin. But Brick didn’t even bother hiding his huge smile.
Mercy shot him a glare, but Brick ignored it, continuing to stare at Rissa.
He forced himself to stay in his seat, not to jump back up, throw her over his shoulder, carry her upstairs and lock her in her room. Especially since he’d never hear the end of that, either. They’d ride his ass so hard, it would become chapped.
He listened to her move around the kitchen, opening a cabinet, getting out a glass, sliding a bottle out of the fridge. Did she plan on getting just as trashed tonight as she did last night?
“Like big guns?” Brick called out as he lifted his beer to his lips. Then he cocked his eyebrow at her.
The fuck if he didn’t.
Suddenly, she was at the table—the fuck if she wasn’t—with one of those stemless glasses full almost to the brim with some sort of pink wine. Her gaze slid over the cards and poker chips and then landed on Brick at the other end of the table.
And, fuck, if she didn’t give him a sultry smile in return. “No, but I like to play poker.”
“Ain’t no room at the table,” Mercy grumbled. Because fuck him if she was going to sit with them all night while the rest of his team ogled her. Flirted with her. Took mental pictures of her to use later tonight when they were alone with their five-fingered fists.
Fuck that.
The squeal of chairs scraping along the tile floor caught his attention.
“We can make room,” Walker spouted helpfully. Him and Brick had parted like the Red fucking Sea to make room at the table.
“Yeah, we’re missing our sixth, anyway,” Steel stated. “We love strip poker, don’t we, boys?”
“Oh! So do I!” Rissa exclaimed as Steel shot to his feet, grabbed a spare chair that had been pushed against the wall earlier and slid it in place next to him. He swept a hand out and Rissa settled into it with a smile and a wiggle as he pushed in the chair like the gentleman he fucking wasn’t.
The man’s eyes just happened to follow her ass until it reached the seat. When he lifted his gaze, he met Mercy’s and the grin on his face said it all.
“I’ll redeal the cards,” Brick said around his cigar, the corners of his eyes crinkled.
“Stogie?” Hunter asked her.
She shook her head, her long pony tail sweeping over her bare shoulders and she lifted her glass. “I’m good.”
Yes, she fucking was.
“That’s Brick dealing the cards, by the way. I’m Walker. The fucker next to me is Hunter, the fucker next to you is Steel and you know the grumpy asshole at the end of the table.”
“You boys all work together?”
“Something like that,” Brick answered as he dealt a new hand around the table. When he was done, he asked, “Sure you don’t like big guns? I got a really big one I can let you shoot.”
“Brick,” Mercy growled.
Brick chuckled and shrugged. “It’s true.” He cocked a brow at Rissa again. “So since...”
“Parris,” she answered his silent question.
“Parris doesn’t have any chips, we changing this to strip pok
er?”
Mercy took a handful of his chips and slapped them on the table in front of Rissa. “She got chips.”
A snort came from Walker who sat to his right.
He only gave her enough so she’d quickly run out and be out of the game. Mercy frowned as the rest of the guys shoved chips her way, too.
“Okay, ante up, fuckers,” Brick said loudly. “And Parris. Sorry.”
“Don’t change your evening for me. I won’t be offended by colorful language. I’ve only played strip poker. Is it the same as using chips?”
Hunter threw a chip into the center of the table. “It is. When’s the last time you’ve played strip poker?”
“Grad school. We got a little wild on the weekends sometimes to blow off steam.”
“Sounds fun,” Hunter said around his cigar.
Everyone else anted up by throwing a chip onto the pile.
“How ‘bout we just play for chips,” Mercy suggested, staring at his shitty hand. It was no better than the last one Brick dealt.
“Yeah, and once you run outta chips, you bet a piece of your clothes,” Walker announced all too helpfully.
All eyes landed on Rissa once again because she was hardly wearing anything, and she probably knew shit about playing real poker if she only played it in college. They all expected her to lose her chips quickly and then have to bet the three pieces of clothing she wore. Three, if she wore panties. Which he hadn’t noticed any panty lines, so she probably wasn’t. That meant two losses and she’d be naked.
He had no doubt the guys were going to bet big until that occurred. All of them had been playing poker for years. All were good. She was no match for any of them.
“That’s how we played for the most part. Sometimes we didn’t have any money since we were students, so we just played with clothes. We’d come to the game wearing fifteen layers, I swear.” When she laughed, her tits jiggled and Mercy swore Brick wiped drool off his lip.
Fucker.
Mercy cleared his throat loudly and got Brick’s attention. He raised his eyebrows in a silent warning.
“I bet that was a lot of fun,” Hunter murmured, giving Rissa a predatory grin.
“Anyone look at their fucking hand yet?” Mercy growled. “Or are we just gonna sit around chit-chatting like a bunch of b— women?”
“I’m ready to play,” Rissa announced glancing at her cards, sitting in between Steel and Brick. Her expression was excited like she had a great hand. So much for a poker face.
These guys were going to wipe the floor with her.
She put her cards down and after taking a sip of her wine, asked, “So there’s just five of you who work for this Diesel?”
“Six,” Steel grunted as he concentrated on his cards.
“Ah, yes, you said your sixth player was missing. I just figured it was Diesel himself.”
“Our boss is too busy with his babies. Ryder’s the sixth. He’s off dealing with a job who shall remain nameless,” Walker said, then did the sign of a cross in front of himself as if he was trying to ward off some sort of evil spirit.
A groan rose from the table.
“Poor fucker keeps drawing the short straw,” Walker continued. “Thank fuck it ain’t me. D needs to give it up and just let her crash and burn, then move in to pick up the pieces.”
“He ain’t gonna do that,” Hunter said, slapping his cards on the table.
“Oh, is this job trouble?” Rissa asked.
“With a capital fucking T,” Brick muttered, putting his cigar down and sorting the cards in his hand.
“She’s Diesel’s cousin,” Hunter explained. “He’s not going to give up on her. He does and something bad happens like... well, you know what the fuck I’m talking about... then he won’t be able to live with it.”
Head nods went around the table.
“If you need me to talk to her, I can. I’m a therapist.”
With a silent groan, Mercy shut his eyes and slammed back in his chair. Jesus fucking Christ.
“A therapist?” Brick asked.
When he opened his eyes, all of his fellow team members were now staring at him again with amused expressions.
He never should have agreed to poker night.
“Yes, a sex therapist,” she clarified, but kept going, much to his irritation, “but I have my Master’s in Psychology and could help. I don’t always just deal with sexual issues. There’s underlying causes for most sexual problems.”
Steel’s cigar fell out of his mouth. He quickly grabbed it off the table and threw it into one of the ashtrays. “Holy fuck,” he mouthed.
“Rissa,” Mercy growled.
“Rissa?” Walker echoed.
“Yes, he insists on calling me Rissa. Not sure why, but no one’s ever called me that before.”
“Already had that discussion,” Mercy muttered.
“That’s right. He had that discussion. Normally a discussion involves at least two parties, but his ‘discussions’ seem to be one-sided.”
Hunter turned his head away, but his whole body shook.
Walker barked out a laugh. And Steel...
Didn’t Steel put his fucking arm around her shoulders, squeeze and say, “We’re used to it. Nothing new.”
Rissa gave him a smile. “Frustrating, right?”
Steel winked at her. “Right.”
Rissa clapped her hands together. “Okay, boys, let’s get to it. Let’s play some freaking poker! Maybe you’ll teach me some tricks tonight.”
“Fuck yeah,” Brick shouted.
Not even three hours later, Rissa had the majority of the chips in front of her. She still wore her camisole and yoga pants. Thank fuck.
Mercy was about to lose his shirt. He’d already gambled away his boots and socks. Oh, and his fucking jeans. He sat at the table in his boxers and T-shirt wondering what the fuck happened.
Everybody else at the table was shirtless, bootless, sockless and a couple of them were lucky to still be wearing their boxers.
“Hustler,” Hunter grumbled as he pushed away from the table. “Not only am I out of fucking chips, I’m down to my skivvies.”
Rissa leaned over the table and, after giving everyone a healthy eyeful of her tits as she gathered the pot in the center of the table, dragged the last of the chips toward her. No wonder everyone lost. Who the fuck could concentrate with that?
“Who taught you how to play poker?” Steel asked, sitting back in his chair, his thick arms crossed over his bare chest. He only wore a pair of jeans. They were all lucky because he’d stated if he lost those, he wasn’t wearing anything underneath them. Mercy wasn’t about to play poker with Steel’s junk hanging out.
Rissa lifted a shoulder and smiled. “I only played in college.”
Bullshit. She was a card shark. She had played them all.
She reached for the three-quarters empty wine bottle that now sat near her elbow to fill her once again empty glass. Before she could snag it, Mercy did and put it out of her reach.
“You’ve had enough,” he grumbled. “Ain’t carrying you upstairs like last night.”
Everyone’s ears perked up. He also didn’t miss the looks shared between all the men. He might as well grab a vat of lotion since his ass was going to be thoroughly ridden raw.
“I’m out, anyway,” Brick sighed. He leaned toward Rissa. “Unless you do want to see that big gun I was talking about.”
Rissa sat back and her gaze roamed around the table. “You guys are probably good with guns. You’re all wearing dog tags.”
At least she wasn’t falling for Brick’s not-so-subtle sexual innuendoes.
“I’m much better than them,” Brick said with a grin. “Former Navy Seal sniper.”
Jesus fuck, since the flirting wasn’t working, he was now attempting to impress her.
“Is that how you all met? In the Navy?”
“Fuck no,” Steel answered. “I’m a Marine. I ain’t no pansy Navy or Army like the rest of these fucks.”
“Pansy. Right,” Walker barked. “Night Stalkers are no fucking pansies. We can fly and shoot. Plus, blow shit up.”
Rissa tilted her head as she studied Walker. “Night Stalkers?”
“Airborne,” Steel added. Mercy swore the man’s chest puffed up like a fucking peacock’s tail.
“Green Beret,” Hunter announced, catching Rissa’s attention. “The rest of the branches don’t got shit on us Army men. True soldiers.”
Brick snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, I can shoot a fucking grape off your head from a mile away.”
“Maybe we should test that,” Mercy muttered.
Rissa turned her bright blue eyes to him. “And you?”
“Just a simple Sergeant Major in the Army. A grunt. Nothing exciting like the rest of these assholes,” Mercy grumbled.
“Somehow I don’t believe that,” she murmured, her gaze landing on the chain around his neck that held his dog tags, which were hidden under his tee. “Not with those scars.”
Of course she went and made that plural so the men once again shared glances now knowing she saw the scars on his back, too. He was royally fucked.
“Hey, I got shot. Twice,” Hunter announced like he was proud of it, standing up and pointing to the gunshot wound that had healed into a thick, puckered scar on his left lower side. “That’s one. Wanna see the other one?” He gave her a toothy grin.
“She don’t wanna see your fucking pussy-assed wounds,” Walker grumbled.
“Think we’re done here,” Mercy forced out between gritted teeth.
Brick shot him a grin across the table. “Don’t wanna compare war wounds, Sarge? You got us all beat with that ugly-assed puss of yours.”
While the crew normally rode each other hard, he didn’t want the night to go down the shitter quickly in front of Rissa.
Things could get crude and rude real fast. Sometimes it even got physical. Though, they never held grudges afterward, thank fuck, because in the end they were a team. Once tempers cooled, they shook it off and moved forward.
No matter what, they all had each other’s six, like it should be when complete trust was needed.
Brothers for life.
Guts & Glory: Mercy (In the Shadows Security Book 1) Page 8