Blood and Bone (Royal Blood #6)

by Amity Cross

  “Shh…” I murmured, not wanting her to break the spell.

  Reaching into the bedside dresser, I pulled out the nylon rope I’d found in the kitchen earlier. Why I decided to put it here was beyond me, but I supposed old habits died hard. Here was where it’d be of most use.

  Mercy arched her back as I pressed my weight into her once more, and I lifted her arms above her head. Caressing her wrists with my thumb, I kissed her softly, my tongue tasting the tang of salt on her skin. She trusted me completely, everything we’d been through up until this point only serving to meld us into one. She had no reason to doubt me. No reason to believe I was about to betray that hard-won trust.

  Slipping the rope around her wrists, I sat up, straddling her as I tied her tightly to the bedhead. I moved quickly, and when she realized what I was doing, it was already too late to wriggle her way out of her predicament. Sliding off her as her eyes snapped open, I grabbed her ankles. She kicked, but my grasp was far too strong for her exhausted limbs to fight.

  The scene was far too familiar than was comfortable. I’d tied her up like this once before…back when I was going insane. Back when I was meant to kill her for Sykes.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” she asked, tugging against the rope as I secured her feet to the end of the bed.

  She knew. She knew.

  She thrashed against the restraints, her eyes full of rage as I straddled her one last time.

  “X!” she shrieked. “You can’t do this to me. You ca—”

  Her cries were cut off as I shoved a gag into her mouth and tied what was left of my T-shirt around her pretty face.

  “I’m sorry, Mercy,” I said, climbing off her. “You more than anyone understand why I’m doing this.”

  She yelled as I gathered my clothes, but her words were swallowed by the material wadded up in her mouth. She thrashed and screamed and drove the ropes to burn her skin as I dressed, but I didn’t acknowledge her once.

  Turning, I closed the door behind me, knowing either she’d free herself or Jackson would find her in the morning. By then, it would be too late to follow me.

  We should have never joined Section Seven or MI6. We should have disappeared and lived out our lives in peace. This was a mission Mercy didn’t need to be involved in—that much was clear from the way she’d rushed into things at the wharf.

  I was saving her from Moltke and herself. She’d see it eventually, but by then, I would’ve already ended him.

  I was doing us all a favor by bringing a swift end to an ongoing problem.

  Xavier Blood, the Royal Blood assassin, was back.

  And I hoped it was for the last time.

  Chapter 14

  Mercy

  I didn’t understand it while he was inside me, but afterward, as he tied me to the bed, I knew.

  X was falling back into old habits to complete the mission. He was allowing the monster to awaken and feed. The same monster he’d used to kill Greggor and The Watchman. The same monster that threatened to devour us all.

  If we got out of this, I’d convince him to disappear with me. This life was ruining everything we’d fought for. His mind and his identity were suffering.

  I wasn’t sure our love could survive another visit from the monster Royal Blood created.

  My wrists burned against the rope he’d tied me to the bed with, the gag almost choking me as the night wore on. I struggled, trying to loosen the knots, but they were stuck. I knew Jackson was coming in the morning and hoped I was free before he walked in on me naked on the bed stinking like sex.

  Just the thing I needed to start my morning.

  The ghostly tendrils of morning light had trickled through the curtains long before I realized I wasn’t getting free. The rope X had selected was an absolute bastard to work the knot out of. The more I struggled, the more the nylon burned my skin, and the more it tightened. Talk about a kidnapper’s weapon of fucking choice.

  I heard footsteps outside the apartment and then a key in the lock. Jackson.

  “Hello?” came his voice. “It’s just me.”

  I yelled out, but my voice was muffled, and all I could manage was a strangled, Jafffoooonnn! I struggled against the ropes, the headboard banging against the wall.

  “Miss Reid?” There were thumping footsteps as he ran across the living room, right toward me. Wasn’t he about to get an eyeful.

  The door flew open, and a panicked looking Jackson appeared, poised and ready for action like a nerdy GI Joe. His gaze lingered a little too long on my naked body, and when he realized, he turned a deep shade of crimson. Slapping a hand over his eyes, he asked, “Miss Reid?”

  I yelled at him, tugging against the rope, but my words were swallowed up by the gag that was strangling the life out of me.

  “I’ll untie you,” he said, shuffling forward, his hand still shielding his eyes. “Let me just…” He averted his gaze, fumbling for something to cover me with. When he found a blanket that had fallen to the floor, he flung it clumsily over me, but it was just enough to cover all my important lady bits.

  Peeking through his fingers, he checked to see my current state of decorum and pulled the gag from my mouth.

  “Who—” he began, but I was gasping for breath, trying to get out everything at once.

  “X has gone all kamikaze,” I said, gasping for breath. “He’s run off to take out Moltke on his own. Motherfucker.”

  Jackson’s eyes widened. “Mr. Blood did this to you?”

  “Get me out of these fucking ropes,” I said. “They fucking burn.”

  He picked at the knots unsuccessfully for a while before giving up and grabbing the hunting knife that sat on the bedside table. The one that had sat there all pretty looking, taunting me because there was no hope in hell I was ever going to reach it in my current state.

  Sliding the blade between my skin and the rope, Jackson sawed, freeing my wrists and then my ankles. I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest and began rubbing my tender jaw.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, standing awkwardly, obviously at a loss as to what to do.

  “I’m going to clean up,” I said, giving him a ‘get out of jail free’ card. “I’ll meet you in the lounge room in a bit.”

  “But…” he began to complain.

  “X is long gone,” I replied. “He doesn’t want to be found, and not even I will be able to anticipate his next move. There’s nothing we can do right now but get on with it.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Your chivalry is real nice, J, but I can take care of myself now.”

  He nodded, backing away toward the other room. “I’ll wait for you,” he said sheepishly, like he was just realizing he’d seen me naked all over again. “I’ve got some leads to follow.”

  “Good,” I said through a sigh. “We’re going to need everything you can get your hands on.”

  Once Jackson had given me some privacy, I slipped into the bathroom and showered, rubbing the red marks on my wrists. Fucking hell, X, I thought to myself. Why did you have to go and leave me like that?

  I knew I’d fucked up and gotten way too emotional about it, but he’d gone too far. Half the battle was acknowledging where I’d gone wrong. I wouldn’t do it again…but he didn’t trust that I wouldn’t, and it fucking stung. After all the bullshit we’d gone through, we were back here again.

  Trust. Stupid fucking trust.

  Drying myself off, I dragged a clean set of clothes on, leaving my damp hair to air dry. Venturing out to the living room, I found Jackson just where he said he’d be. He was propped up in the armchair, his laptop on his lap, headphones over his ears, and his fingers flying over the keyboard like some kind of wizard.

  When he sensed my presence, he glanced up and pulled the headphones off his head.

  “Are you okay, Miss Reid?” he asked as I sat on the couch and began inspecting the welts on my wrists.

  They looked familiar, the r
edness reminding me of a time long ago when things weren’t as…well, rosy.

  “I’m pissed off more than anything,” I replied. “The pain doesn’t bother me.” Unfortunately, I’d learned how to tolerate that while in the clutches of The Watchman.

  “I’m sorry,” he began, but I waved a hand at him.

  “Shit happens. We still have the mission even if X has run off to play on his own.”

  “You still want—”

  “Do you have anything?” I interrupted. “It doesn’t matter who takes down that fucker Moltke, only that he’s dead at the end.”

  Jackson swallowed hard and nodded. At least we were on the same wavelength even if he was little bit of a yes man—apply a little pressure and Jackson was putty in my hands. Luckily, for him, I had good intentions.

  “There’s an advantage to working for a government agency that deals in secrets and information,” he said, getting down to business. “There’s an array of satellites and computer programming trawling the web for keywords and facial recognition software that scans the network of CCTV cameras all over the city…the country really. It’s rare that something slips past by the net, but there’s always human error,” he waffled on. “We have to know the intent to be able to decipher the clues or else they’re useless.”

  “Jackson,” I said firmly, trying to prod him into telling me what he’d found…without the science lesson.

  “Hackers,” he blurted. “They’re going to try to hack into the secure network.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, suspecting it probably had to do with information gathering or a virus of some kind.

  “A hard drive went missing overnight,” he went on. “Security is tight on anything that goes in and out of the MI6 buildings as you know, and somehow, this slipped through the net. There’s no telling how long it’s been gone.”

  “A hard drive? Why is that so…” I hesitated, thinking over the ramifications of such a device being spirited away outside of the secure facility. A hard drive could carry shitloads of data, and if it were something that someone like Jackson could get to and put into overdrive, we could be talking about thousands of terabytes of information. Files, profiles, missions, field offices, deep cover agents, security networks, protocols… The whole shebang and then some.

  “I managed to get a hold of some information last night,” Jackson went on. “While Mr. Blood was busy tying you up, I found out from the agents that are legitimately investigating the bombing that Moltke intends to buy the drive. I think he wants to disable the entire MI6 network and do the same thing he did to Section Seven.” His eyes widened and he grimaced. “Boom.”

  I didn’t ask how he found out the information considering Folsom had taken us off book, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was yet another waft of smoke and mirrors for us to follow.

  “I don’t like this…” I began. “I mean, there’s no way of telling what information Moltke already knows or has planted. This could be another elaborate trap to lure X out of hiding. After all, I reckon Moltke thinks I’m dead.”

  Jackson straightened up. “Miss Reid… What exactly happened last night?”

  I shrugged. “My pride got in the way, and I almost got myself killed in a spectacular fashion. All roads point to me being dead. At least in Moltke’s eyes. I assume that’s why X took it upon himself to ditch me…” I glanced at Jackson. “Ditch us, I mean.”

  “I didn’t know…” he muttered, looking anguished.

  “Don’t make a big deal about it.” I nodded at his magic laptop. “If Moltke intends to buy this hard drive, then there has to be a meet in place. X is out there, and Moltke will want to lure him out into the open so he can take him out. He’ll use my death against him.”

  “But…”

  “X will have the upper hand. His grief will not rule him because he won’t have any.”

  “What do you suggest we do? Go on without him, or…”

  I furrowed my brow, my thoughts scrambling in my head until I couldn’t focus on any of them. What would X do? He’d follow the lead, that’s what…but it was another trap, right? Would he still pick at the breadcrumbs knowing how it ended last time? I didn’t know. I didn’t know a fucking thing.

  I shook my head. “Fuck, I wish X were here.”

  “We’ll do just fine, Miss Reid.”

  “Stop calling me Miss Reid,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “It’s Mercy. Just Mercy.”

  “Where could he have gone?” Jackson mused, turning back to his laptop. He started typing, images and text flashing on the screen at lightning speed. Damn, his fingers worked fast. Talk about being the David Copperfield of computer science.

  “I don’t know, that’s the point,” I mused. “He won’t come back until the job is complete.”

  “Then…”

  I knew better than anyone X wouldn’t rest until his mark was in the ground, but Moltke wasn’t a typical target. He had skills and cunning that matched and even surpassed X’s in some aspects, and that made him more dangerous than anyone X or I had ever hunted before. The ultimate challenge…and the ultimate danger.

  There had been a time when I believed X was indestructible, that he was some immortal creature capable of clawing his way out of the deepest depths of rage and despair…but against Moltke? I had an awful feeling in my soul, the soul X inhabited, that he might not be so fortunate this time around.

  The thought of burying X in an empty grave alongside Mei and the rest of Section Seven absolutely bloody terrified me. He didn’t want me to follow, that much was clear considering the way he’d left me, but if I could help him from afar, then I would. He was everything to me.

  “If he won’t come back,” I said slowly, “then we need to find a way to get the intel to him.”

  “How do you deal with that?” Jackson asked, giving me an anxious glance out the corner of his eye.

  How did I deal? Sometimes I wondered that myself.

  “We don’t have a normal relationship, but he knows he’ll pay dearly when I finally get my hands on him,” I replied. “And sorely.”

  Jackson raised his eyebrows, but I was lost in my own thoughts.

  The only person I knew who would be able to find X—who was the needle in the haystack that was London—was Hawkes. He’d been Vaughn’s bodyguard once upon a time before morphing into a business associate and father figure for the infamous Hangman. Somewhere along the line of duplicity and revenge plotting, he’d become a friend and ally of our own as well. How the world came to that conclusion was nothing but chaos to me. All I knew was that he was on our side, sympathetic to our cause, and if he’d been in touch with Lorelei since we’d dragged her from Section Seven, then he’d be more than willing to help deal a blow to the man who put her there.

  “I know a way, but it’s not guaranteed,” I said, thinking about the burly ex-bodyguard. “He’s not exactly good guy material, but he owes X and me. He’ll do it.”

  “Do I have to turn a blind eye?” Jackson asked wryly.

  “We’re not in the system anymore, J,” I said. “Anything goes when we’re against a man like Moltke.”

  Looking rather uncomfortable, he nodded. “Then I better get searching for a clue to that meet.”

  Smiling, I rose to my feet. “Thank you, Jackson.”

  As he slipped on his headphones and began his search, I ducked into the bedroom, where the scent of X and what he’d done to me still lingered in the air and attempted to contact the elusive Nathaniel Hawkes.

  I just hoped to God that I could find him in time.

  Chapter 15

  X

  The rain began to fall not long after I left Mercy.

  It fell from the darkness above, light and misty, then heavier as the night wore on.

  It rained the next day, only stopping for brief moments of respite before starting again.

  Darkness fell, the first night I’d spent alone since Mercy had been in The Watchman’s clutches.

  I’d tracked Moltke d
own to a warehouse on the outskirts of London, not far from the wharf where Mercy—

  I found him, but he was long gone. His stink still clung to the cold industrial building, the remains of his work still littered in an abandoned office.

  Schematics and purchase orders littered a table, and on a workbench, scraps of electronics, wiring, and plastics that had been used to create the bombs that had destroyed Section Seven. The same bombs that had taken two hundred innocent lives…and that of Mei Akiyama.

  I knew he wanted me to find this place. I understood what he’d planted in the hours following Mercy’s supposed death. A trail to the feet of the man who murdered her. A trail to the site of my own death… my demise. My destiny.

  Snorting, I felt a uncontrollable burn of rage flare through my body. Striding forward, I grabbed the edge of the table and with a roar, flipped the entire thing over. Papers, wiring, and empty bottles scattered, crashing to the floor with a bang that echoed through the warehouse.

  I’d fast learned that Moltke was fond of elaborate games of cat and mouse. I fucking hated that he had power over me, that he was so smug he thought he could fool me into dying at his feet like a pathetic worm.

  I’d kill him.

  I’d kill him slowly, bleeding him dry, tearing the very soul from his body until he begged for mercy. He’d regret ever fucking with Xavier Blood. He’d regret waking the monster.

  My phone began to ring shrilly in the silence, and I turned sharply, drawing my gun. Tracking the barrel around the room, I cursed when I realized I was alone, and the ringing had stopped.

  Pulling out my phone, I checked the screen. It was a text message, so I opened it, knowing it wouldn’t be from Mercy. She didn’t have the means to contact me this way. Not even Jackson did. I’d made sure of it that morning.

  Unknown number.

  The message was just an image, one I recognized from my Royal Blood days. The Black Horse.

  It was the protocol I’d used to contact Vaughn when he’d resided in Exeter, and I needed information. Knowing The Hangman was meant to be gone, it could only be from one person.