by SE Jakes
“What do you need?” Mercy demanded. “Because for this, you need to tell me. Sneaking out tells me you want to be chased. So I made sure I’m here.”
Linc nodded. “You know what I want.”
“You want everything to be the same as it was. And you also know it won’t be. You need to be handled and I can handle you. I will handle you—you need to trust in that.”
“I’m trying,” Linc said softly.
“I know, baby. You’re inside out.”
“So are you.”
Mercy gave him a small smile. “I’m not who you need to worry about.”
“You’re here because I told you I needed you here—”
“Yes.”
“But you ignored me when I told you to stay away.”
Mercy muttered, “I respected your wishes. You didn’t know I was there.”
Linc was staring at him insolently . . . which was also goddamned fucking sexy. And the look got more so when Mercy grabbed him and half dragged him outside into the alley.
“Mercy, my jacket’s still inside,” Linc told him, but stopped when Mercy pinned him to the brick wall with his body, put an hand inside Linc’s loose cargos and caught his cock in his warm palm.
Linc wound an arm around Mercy’s shoulders and kissed him. Yeah, Linc wasn’t feeling any pain at all, his grin easy, and he was still dancing, but he was only dancing for Mercy now.
“I want you dancing on my cock,” Mercy told him.
“Right out here? Where everyone can watch?”
“You’d do it. Out here, in there. If I made you spread yourself on the bar.” Mercy stroked Linc harder, and Linc’s breath quickened. “Totally naked. Everyone watching. Maybe I’ll let anyone who wants to take a turn.”
Linc groaned. “But you’d be there, right?”
“Right next to you, baby. Holding you open.”
It moved him that Linc needed to make sure, even in the fantasy, that Mercy was there . . . that he wanted Mercy there with him.
“I have no control over my body when you’re around,” Linc practically growled.
“That works for me.” Mercy took his hand out of Linc’s pants and ran his thumb over the pulse point on Linc’s neck and Linc’s breathing hitched just from that simple contact. “You don’t seem to be having a problem with it.”
“I crave you. Trust me, it’s a problem.”
Mercy obviously didn’t share his concern, just leaned in and sucked the pulse point he’d just stroked,hard. “Bet I can make you come before Rush comes.”
Linc strained to look over Mercy’s shoulder and saw that Rush and Ryker were down the alley and across from them, and they were damned close to fucking out in the open. When Linc looked back at him, Mercy was grinning at that before turning his full attention to Linc.
Linc shivered, anticipation more than anything, and the sense of relief that followed Mercy and Jethro being okay after their fight make him hard. “How much . . . and how far are you going?”
Mercy frowned and Linc repeated, “How much? You said you’d bet money.”
Mercy smiled. “A grand.”
“Big spender.” Linc grinned back as Mercy’s hand began to play between his legs again. “How far?”
“You want more than a handjob, baby?” Mercy’s voice was wicked. “Want me to bend you over and fuck you? Bring you inside and do it?”
Linc groaned as Mercy worked his cock in his calloused palm. “Not fair.”
“The dirty talk’s one of your favorite parts. So’s the follow through.”
Linc wrapped a hand around the back of Mercy’s neck and kissed him, because he needed to be kissed. It was like Mercy was his lifeline . . . because he was, and he kissed Linc like he’d never let him go.
Linc kissed him back the exact same way, until they were both out of breath, and Linc was frantic with need. He couldn’t get close enough and Mercy seemed to instinctively understand.
That made Linc’s need stronger. Hungrier. He wanted to wrap around Mercy completely and let him do whatever the hell he wanted to, bets be damned.
“Want to take a ride back to Havoc . . . or find someplace more private along the way?” Mercy asked. “Or I could invite Jethro back here . . . show him what he’s missing.”
“Fuck.” Linc closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Mercy’s leather-clad shoulder. Mercy unzipped his cargos and freed his cock and began to stroke, and fuck, this wasn’t fair. Between Mercy’s hot, talented mouth sucking and marking his neck, and watching Ryker press against Rush in the dark, Mercy was going to win his bet with no problem.
Rush wasn’t bothering to be quiet. He never was, and that wouldn’t have changed whether he’d been alone with Ryker in the alley or not.
Mercy’s fingers slid along his slit, pressing, milking, forcing a muffled groan from Linc’s throat that echoed through the alley. “I’m going to lose the bet.”
“Does it matter?”
“No,” Linc murmured. Because the only thing that did was feeling Mercy against him as he came, hot and hard, his breath catching. “What you do to me . . .”
Mercy’s free hand tightened behind his neck. “What you do to me.”
Linc looked up and met his eyes. For a second, Linc was sure they’d never been closer . . . until they heard bottles breaking and shouts.
As the backdoor opened, Mercy immediately went on alert, his hand going to his weapon, his body covering Linc protectively. But it was just Boomer, his hands up, knowing full well he’d have weapons aimed at him.
“Pagans,” was all he said before disappearing back inside.
Ryker and Rush were already zipping up and walking over toward them.
“I’ve got a weapon,” Rush confirmed.
Mercy glanced at Linc. “I’ll stay with you.”
“No. You do your job,” Linc told him, although he wanted nothing more than to keep Mercy safe. “Go protect. I’ll stick with Rush.”
Mercy dusted his knuckles across Linc’s cheek. “Thanks, baby. Let’s get you inside first.”
He let Mercy lead him into the bar. Ryker locked the back door behind them with the dead bolt and then Linc and Rush watched their men disappear into the crowd.
“I can help,” Linc said finally.
“They’ve got it. We’ll be in the way,” Rush said, his tone telling Linc that they were both completely unconvinced of that. “We know we’re their vulnerability.”
“And that’s never going to change?”
“Not when you love somebody.” Rush stared out the window as the yelling got louder. “Cops’ll be here soon. Maybe we should get the hell out of here.”
Linc frowned. As much as he didn’t want to deal with the cops before his court case, something felt off. He glanced at the side door and then looked toward the back as the sirens got louder. “Where’s your car?”
“I’m right out back—along the wall,” Rush confirmed. He was looking around, but there was no one to tell, no one to ask. It was pure confusion.
“Let’s go.” Linc led the way through the throngs of panicking people toward the back. That door was double bolted as well, although people were letting themselves out and a bouncer, Monster, was locking up behind them.
“You should both stay,” Monster told them.
“He’s got court in a couple of days. If this place gets raided—” Rush started, right before they heard a megaphone’s whine and then, “This is the police. We’re coming in. We need everyone inside to stand down and put their hands in the air.”
“What the fuck,” Linc muttered, but Monster was letting them out.
When they hit the air, Linc knew immediately that his gut had been right, but hell, he’d rather face Pagans than the cops right now. It helped to get rid of some of his rage as he snapped his fist against the cheek of the first man who tried to grab him, because no, this wasn’t happening.
“Linc!” Rush called as he fought off two men.
“I’ve got the right,” Linc c
alled back, and he had two of them on the ground and was fighting off a third by the time Mercy slammed through the back doors.
“You both okay?” Mercy asked.
“We’re good,” Linc told him.
“Fine,” Rush said as Ryker came around the corner from the alley. “I guess we’ve got to bolt?”
Rush went with Ryker and Linc with Mercy into Tug’s truck that was waiting around the corner. A few of the men stayed behind to deal with the police and the Pagans, but Linc was glad Mercy wasn’t one of them.
“It was a trap, wasn’t it?” Linc asked once Tug was on the highway. The music was turned up a bit and Tug and Boomer were talking, leaving Linc and Mercy to have some privacy in the back seat.
“Looks to be.”
Linc shifted. “They were trying to funnel me out the back.” Mercy nodded, his jaw tight. “Look, I’m sorry we left but—”
“Don’t. You were thinking about court, which was important. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Mercy told him, his voice low. “You were fantastic.”
Linc flushed. “Thanks.”
“You weren’t helpless.” Mercy brought his lips down on Linc’s head. “I’m sorry if I’ve been making you feel like that.”
“You were only trying to protect what you lo—” Linc stopped and said, “Me,” quickly.
“What I love,” Mercy murmured. “You.”
Linc leaned against him, suddenly realizing how tired he actually was. He didn’t want to think about traps and Pagans and all the shit he needed to look over his shoulder for. And so, for tonight, he didn’t.
By eleven the next morning, Linc was in the bonds shop, going through files, and smiling for what felt like the first time in ages. His body ached pleasantly from the night before. Mercy had left earlier, but he’d woken Linc up first with a quiet “Morning, babe,” and a lingering touch . . . and the sense of relief flooded him that Mercy didn’t think the night before was a mistake.
Even just the small block of time he’d had with Mercy had cleared his mind, more than a little. Miles to go and all that shit, but still . . .
Tug was his escort for the day—he was helping Mercy out with running down skips until Mercy and Sweet decided if the bonds shop was moving closer to Havoc. Linc didn’t think that was such a great idea because it meant more outside people near Havoc, but he’d kept that thought to himself.
Now, he worked alone, while Tug went across the street to grab breakfast, and with Shaman on the roof and god knew who in the back lot—as usual. Stopping that wouldn’t happen and he realized that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on much of anything without backup.
He started with the cases that had court dates coming up this week, which, of course, included him. Looking over the old bond form he’d filled out, complete with Bram’s forged signature and the fake bit about Bram owning his own home, made him snort.
At the time, it’d gotten him what he’d wanted and some that he hadn’t, but in general, he didn’t regret his call. But thinking about tomorrow, and the fact that the DA would no doubt try to press him to testify against the Heathens, made his head hurt. He quickly shoved his file aside and looked through the rest of the cases.
It would be a slow court week—just him and two other people. One, a teenage girl, would probably get off with a slap on the wrist for a shoplifting first offense, and the second? A low-level drug dealer who’d gotten caught by an undercover cop near the docks. It was a second offense, which carried jail time, unless he turned on his supplier. And the case was set for . . . an hour ago.
Linc paused and looked at the paperwork again. The man—Ty Larimer—should’ve had his court case two weeks earlier. His lawyer had gotten him a continuance.
What kind of public defender got a dealer a continuance? Linc ran the lawyer’s name and bells started going off. Then he called Mercy’s contact at the courthouse and discovered that Ty hadn’t shown for court, his lawyer had begged off the case, and there was a warrant out for Ty’s arrest.
Which meant Linc had to get to him first.
He texted Tug. Need to visit a lawyer’s office, then follow-up on a skip.
He watched Tug stroll across the street and into the shop. “You know you’re supposed to let Mercy handle the skips.”
“C’mon, Tug. Give me a goddamned break.” He picked up the file. “Let’s go check his house . . . but first, I need to check in on his lawyer. He’s along the way.”
Tug looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he held the door open for Linc, turned the sign to Closed and locked the door behind him. Linc climbed into the passenger’s side of Tug’s giant black truck and soon, Tug was headed toward the lawyer’s office.
“What’s got you cranked about this case?” Tug asked finally.
Linc frowned, pointed to the string of cases attached to the lawyer via Google. “How many two-bit drug pushers do you know that can afford a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour attorney?”
“Not many . . . unless they’re cartel,” Tug said thoughtfully. “You’ve got court tomorrow. Might not be the best day to fuck around with this?”
“Then let’s not tell Mercy—and let’s not get caught. This is just recon,” Linc promised.
Next to him, Tug muttered something about “usually have tequila to smooth the bad decisions.”
“I’m just going information gathering. Nothing crazy. I don’t want to fuck up court.” Or his newfound peace with Mercy, as tenuous as it was. “I don’t want you to go past the building. Stop before turning onto the block.”
Tug did so. No doubt he understood that Linc was stopping the cameras the lawyer had on his building from capturing Tug’s license plate.
“What’re you going to do, Linc?”
“I’m going to go in and make an appointment.” It was almost one in the afternoon, but that didn’t mean the guy was going out for lunch. He also had no court cases on his docket today, either—Linc had checked with a clerk he knew at the court. “You’ve got to stay here. You’ll have eyes on me the whole way in. I’ll text you from inside.”
“Jesus Christ, no wonder Mercy mutters to himself all the time.”
Linc slid out of the car before Tug could argue, leaving him to mutter to himself. The inner office area wasn’t big but it was clean, with polished leather couches in the waiting area and a big walnut desk where a pretty secretary sat, smiling up at him.
Linc was lucky that his kidnapping case hadn’t made the papers. He was still pretty well unknown in these parts, and he knew how to use his looks to his advantage. And right now, he needed an advantage.
“Hey, honey, how can I help you?” The secretary had a Southern drawl and she leaned forward on her elbows.
Linc smiled. “I’m looking for a lawyer. I hear Mr. Blanchard’s the best.”
“Sure are in the right place. I’m guessing you don’t have an appointment but let me see what I can do?”
Linc was glad Tug remained outside, because a Havoc rocker wouldn’t get him this kind of hand-off and, like his momma used to say, “You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression.”
Now, he told the secretary, “I’d really appreciate that. My brother’s been running me around this state and I’m not all that familiar with the area.”
She looked sympathetic, knocked on the door to Ken Blanchard’s office, and came back out a few moments later. “He’ll see you now—he’s got a few minutes before his lunch meeting. I hope it’s not big trouble for you.”
“At least I’m in the right place.” Linc went in and met the dark-suited Ken Blanchard, who looked just like his photo—tall, bald, and probably much more lethal than he appeared. With his clientele, Blanchard was most definitely carrying and trained in different kinds of self-defense. He’d been a cop too, in New York.
Now, Linc offered his hand to shake and Blanchard took it firmly. “I’m Linc. Thanks for seeing me on short notice.”
“Sit. Tell me what you need.”
Linc leaned forwa
rd on his elbows, lowered his voice. “I need some help with my brother.”
“Family’s a bitch.” Ken Blanchard smiled conspiratorially.
“He’s, ah, in trouble for some low-level dealing . . . and I think he’s in trouble with Project X.”
Blanchard frowned. “How’d he get involved with them?”
“Not sure.”
“What makes you think he’s in trouble?”
“He got arrested—he’s out on bail now but he refuses to testify against them. The DA’s pressuring him and . . .” Linc shook his head. “Look, I can’t say I blame him for not wanting to. But otherwise, he’s doing jail time.”
Blanchard nodded. “You seem like a nice guy, so I’m going to give you some free advice. Let him do the time. Turning on Project X is a death sentence.”
Linc went cold inside, mainly because of the scary as hell look on Blanchard’s face, even though what the lawyer said wasn’t untrue. He stood. “I appreciate your honesty.”
Blanchard saw him to the door. Linc spent a minute thanking the secretary and saw Blanchard leave through a side exit.
“Hey, is there a bathroom I can use? I’ve got a three-hour trip back home,” he said.
“Sure, right through the door on your right.” She went back to typing, so it was apparent that she wasn’t closing the office for lunch.
He went into the side door, slid into Blanchard’s unlocked office, and rooted through the files on his desk. He’d spotted Ty’s earlier, and now, he opened it and snapped pictures of every document in the file—all ten of them—before going out to the front and thanking the secretary.
Twenty minutes after going inside, Linc was back in Tug’s car, heading toward the shop.
Tug checked his rearview as he pulled away from the curb. “I got a hinky feeling.”
“That’s why I had you wait down the street, out of camera line,” Linc said.
“What did the lawyer say?” Tug asked.
“Nothing compared to what his files said.” Linc held up his phone. “I’ve got to go through what I got, but I don’t expect our skip back to court anytime soon.”
“A dismissal?”