Sergio waved a hand in front of my face, tapping his watch. I wanted to bite his finger for being so cocky and horrible and ruining everything.
“Why? Why did they take him at all?”
Frederick sighed. “Because he pissed off a man called Lynx. And now the bastard wants payback.”
* * *
Half an hour later Franco and I zoomed in a taxi to the airport. Sergio had escorted us out of the building himself. Glaring as if we’d single-handedly robbed him of any accolades or good-doing by arresting us.
Franco looked as if he would hit him, so I was glad when a taxi coasted past the second the handcuffs were undone.
My fingers were wrapped around Franco’s phone, glued to the app that’d turned Q—my amazing tattooed sadistic lover—into a red blip on the screen.
Frederick was right.
Q was in Spain.
And alive. He was still alive.
I jumped a foot as Franco placed a hand on my knee. “You okay?”
He asked that a lot. I hated that I acted as if I needed reassurance. The meek girl I’d been slowly changed, embracing vengeance.
I nodded. I was numb with shock, high on hope, and shaking with terror—but yes, I was okay. “I’m alright.”
Franco nodded, leaning into the seat, adjusting his sling with a small groan.
Tearing my eyes from the red blip, I asked, “How about you. How are you holding up?”
His piercing green eyes were tight with pain; his forehead furrowed as whatever painkillers the doctors had given wore off.
He gave me a cold smile, his teeth glinting in the streetlights whizzing past the window. “I’ll be a lot happier the minute I’ve shot some motherfucking rapists.” He sighed. “Seriously, I just want to find Mercer and then crash—for a thousand years.”
He winced as the taxi bounced over a pothole. Squeezing his eyes, he muttered, “You’ve always had strong instincts, Tess. Right from the beginning. What are they telling you now?” He kept his eyes closed but his body hummed with tension. “Would you say they’re keeping him for ransom or torture?”
Torture.
I didn’t need to think. Or guess.
The most morbid conclusion doused my system in horror. No matter how I tried to deny it. I couldn’t stop the images.
Fingernails being pulled.
His beautiful strong body being mutilated.
His gorgeous tattoo being sliced from his chest.
My tummy rolled; I slapped a hand over my mouth. Swallowing hard, I forced away the toe-curling images and worked on blanking my mind.
Franco sucked in a breath. “That bad, huh. Shit.”
I wouldn’t speak my nightmares—I didn’t want to give them power. But I did know as long as I was alive, I wouldn’t let that happen. Curling my hands, I hissed, “I’m sick of evil intervening with my life. I’m sick of paying a toll for doing nothing more than falling in love. Whoever this bastard is who took Q—he’s going to scream before I let him die.”
Franco twisted in the seat, his aura thickening, darkening, filling the taxi cab with a threat so ferocious it scared even me. His eyes flashed green fire. “And if I could make that wish come true?”
“What wish?”
“That I’d help you make him scream. That I’d allow you to do the honours to avenge your man. Would you be able to pull the trigger, Tess? Have you fully faced your nightmares to do for Q what he did for you?”
My skin prickled with foreboding. Franco looked cold, calculating, already slipping into the persona of a killer.
My heart thumped harder, my soul churning with a complex mix of right and wrong. Was I bluffing? Could I take a life? For all my bravado, when it came down to it—could I make a grown man scream before stealing his life?
“Shoot her, puta.”
“Do it or we’ll snap her fingers until you do.”
I swallowed hard against the bile searing my throat.
Could I once again become a murderer and welcome more grime into my soul?
My eyes closed.
Q sprang to mind. Covered in blood, his incredible beauty ravaged by horror. They did that to him.
Gruesome heat.
Blood- smeared men.
Screams.
A cold-hearted power filled me. I was protecting what was mine. Je suis à lui. I was his. Retribution superseded right or wrong.
It reverted me to nothing more than a mate fighting for her lover. Delivering justice like for like.
I would rip out the hearts of the men who hurt him. I would willingly butcher and torture and maim.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I would never stop being haunted by Blonde Hummingbird or Angel. But this time, it was the right thing to do. I wanted to hunt.
Q wanted me to stand by his side and help women who didn’t have someone fighting on their behalf. Someone had to clean up the garbage in the world. He trusted me to be strong enough.
I am.
“Yes.” My voice sliced through the thick cloud between us, sounding vicious, merciless. “I’m ready to kill.”
Franco nodded, his lips twisting into a grim smile. “Who are you, Tess?”
“I’m his. I’m Tess. I’m his esclave.”
The final piece that was missing—the final piece that made me me—slotted into place. My true identity.
I’m a survivor. I’m strong. I’m ready.
Franco’s face darkened with fierce pride. “And what do you want?”
“I want them to die. I want the blood of the men who took him to grow cold and turn to rust.”
Franco reached into his holster, pulling out one of the guns Sergio had returned.
Handing it to me, he muttered, “Good answer.” His voice dropped to a guttural growl, “I’ll be beside you every step.”
Chapter Twelve
Quincy
The sun warms my feathers, the updraft in my wings, linked souls for eternity, you’ll now wear my ring
*Five minutes after capture*
Fucking bastards.
Low life scum. They thought they could come into my life and fucking march me away like some weak prick?
Every step traded my sadness and sense of duty to protect Tess and turned it into livid rage. I saw red. I tasted blood. My body burned for retribution.
I’d done all I needed. We were out of sight—away from Tess. I could strike. My hands balled by my sides as a man with brown hair and wrinkles prodded my ribcage, forcing me off the elevator. My thigh was sticky with blood, seeping into the fabric, but the pain was absent. I had too much else to focus on.
You’ll be the first to die.
The lights of the lobby hurt my eyes—stabbing me with the knowledge I was letting go of the good inside me. I didn’t need to unlock the cage this time…the beast took complete control. I was surprised I still thought in words and sentences and not in blood and gore.
I wanted them all dead. Every single one.
I wanted their souls for scaring Tess after everything I’d done to fix her.
Leaving the brightness of the lobby, I slammed to a halt as two non-descript sedans pulled up to the curb. I wouldn’t be getting in the car.
Spinning around, I punched the man behind me. My knuckles smashed against cartilage and I smiled. Payback.
“Ah, fuck!” He stumbled backward.
Blood spurted from his nose. The crunch of bone resonated sweetly in my snarling brain. He cursed in Spanish, waving for two men to grab my arms.
I ducked, swinging in their direction, but a third man grabbed me from behind. No doorman saw, no pedestrians passed. Our fight went unnoticed as the men wrenched my arms behind my back, deliberately tugging too far. My shoulders bellowed. The old gunshot wound in my bicep from Red Wolverine screamed. “Je peux encore vous tuer avec mes mains liées derrière le dos, bâtards.” I can still kill you with my hands tied behind my back, you assholes.
I’d let myself be corralled from the hotel room to protect Tess. It didn’t me
an I’d go any further without a fight. It would be their blood drawn first. Not mine.
“Stop talking in French. How about we just kill you now—save the trouble?” The man I’d punched fisted me hard in the stomach. I doubled over, winded. Sucking in air, I swallowed the pain.
Shitless, gutless prick.
“You do and how do you explain that to Lynx?”
He froze. “How did you know it was—lucky guess, you bastard. But you’re right. Lynx would be pissed.”
My voice was breathless, raging with anger. “Let my arms go and we’ll have a fair fight. If I win you fuck off. Tell Lynx you had your ass handed to you by a bigger bastard than him.”
The man shook his head, eyes cold and flat. “You know how this will go, Mercer. Stop fighting and get in the fucking car.” He punched me again, right in the gut. “Call that incentive.”
My stomach throbbed thanks to his knuckles but I refused to buckle. “My incentive is to see you split open and screaming.” I stood taller, wishing my arms were free to deliver my threat. “You’re right—I do know how this is going to go. And it won’t end well for you.”
The guy grabbed my hair, tugging hard as if I was a truant schoolboy and not the man who would sever him into pieces.
Kill him.
Wrath steamed my blood, coiling my muscles. I no longer felt any pain—just a cold-hearted need to end them.
He ducked his head, whispering in my ear, “You cause a scene out here, and I’ll go back up to that room and put a bullet between the eyes of the slave you were fucking. Rumour has it you have feelings for her. And I bet it would hurt you a lot more watching her die than anything we could do to you.” He pulled away. “You disobey and we’ll take our frustration out on your woman. Do you want that?”
Love and hatred became the same debilitating emotion.
I loved Tess.
I hated her, too.
She’d bound my hands more effectively than the two bastards holding me.
I had no fucking power. None. All because I would give my life to make sure she was never hurt again. It didn’t matter we were out of sight—she was still vulnerable and the perfect leash to make me obey.
My head grew heavy with defeat. I refused to put her in harm’s way. Not for anything.
Looking up, I muttered, “Give me your word you won’t go back for her. Give me an oath you’ll leave her alone, and I’ll go with you willingly.”
I’ll trade my life for hers.
I knew what my future held.
Lynx would live up to his predator name. He chose the feline hunter because of what he liked to do with his victims: play. He loved to drag out their torment. Tearing the tail off the mouse, ripping the ears off a rabbit, draining whatever fight his prey had before snapping their neck. Devouring with no remorse.
I’d witnessed it first-hand. I’d seen the damage he caused. And I would fucking kill him for it.
The man holding my hair glared into my eyes—there was no intelligence but plenty of greed. Suddenly, he let me go, nodding at his men to do the same.
The moment my arms were free, I brought them to my front, rolling my wrists, taunting them with my decision. They eyed me warily, expecting me to strike again. But I’d already played my cards. They knew I wouldn’t fight—not here. Not with Tess so close.
The man muttered, “If you come to Spain with no disobedience. You’ll have our word. Our orders were to bring you—not to hurt anyone more than necessary.” He held out his hand, his lips twisting cruelly. “Shake on it, or I’ll have a man go and collect her—she might be good collateral to keep you in line. Unless your honour will do that for you.”
Fuck. He knew me better than I liked. If I shook his hand, I would honour the agreement. I wouldn’t try and kill them until I’d slaughtered Lynx and dismantled his operation from the inside out.
Protect Tess.
Gritting my teeth, I shoved my hand into his. His dry fingers wrapped around mine, shaking once with a fierce squeeze.
“You don’t touch her. I won’t touch you. You have my word, and that is law.” The phrase I used to say all the time echoed with my past. My law. It was different to the law of society. Mine gave me freedom to be the devil in disguise. It gave me the right for vengeance.
I would be kept alive for now—at least until I arrived in Spain. Lynx would drag this out—toying with me, trying to make me crack with his fucking mind games. I was his prized accomplishment. He’d become the reaper who destroyed Q Mercer.
All the goodness Tess instilled inside me slowly trickled out, leaving my conscience like a dry river bed with nothing but daggers for thoughts.
Ending the handshake, I turned and climbed into the back of the vehicle. I kept my temper hissing in the background of my mind. I would be prepared to strike—but not yet.
A gun pressed against my side as a man settled in the seat beside me. His tanned Spaniard skin melted into the darkness of the evening.
“Lynx will be honoured by your presence, Mercer. I believe he has a night full of festivities.”
My gut churned, but that was the extent of my fear. I refused to let the useless emotion dictate me. Fear wouldn’t stop the future. Fear would only ruin my chance at saving my future.
I embraced livid anger, nursing it, flaming it.
The cars pulled away from the curb; I didn’t look back. I didn’t glance up to our room or try to glimpse a tearful Tess. I didn’t focus on what I was leaving behind. I focused on what I would become in order to survive.
No one said a word as we navigated the streets of Rome, heading toward the private terminal at the airport.
The journey didn’t last long. Too fast.
We pulled up outside a private hangar and a gun prodded my side. I climbed out of the car.
A captor demanded, “Hold out your hands.”
I expected restraints, so I didn’t resist as a cable-tie wrapped around my wrists. Once disabled, they marched me toward a small jet. I glimpsed my plane a few metres away. The white fuselage rested under a cloak of stars and clouds. The gold Q and sparrows on the wingtips looked as if it waved goodbye—sending me off to a battle I probably wouldn’t win.
The air crackled with testosterone. Guns pressed my lower back, shoving me up the plane’s steps. I entered the dark brown interior of the aircraft.
Lowering my head, I narrowed my eyes at the two men standing in the aisle. More men crowded behind me, blocking any escape.
Shit, I was in for more than champagne and soft blankets.
Calm. I felt calm.
Furious. I felt furious.
“Take my warning seriously, you cunts. Every hit you deliver, I’ll repay you a hundred times worse.” Growling low and deep, I added, “Kill me, and I’ll fucking haunt you for eternity.”
Tess.
The love for her no longer had space anymore—it was swamped with lust for murder.
“Lynx told us to bring you in one piece. But he didn’t say you couldn’t have bruises.” The two men in front cracked their knuckles, inching closer. The cramped space of the cabin was a treasonous whore, giving them the upper hand.
There wasn’t much I could do. Hands bound. Honour bound. I would bide my time for vengeance.
The first punch came from behind, knocking me like a ping pong into the awaiting fists in front.
Cheekbone.
Spleen.
Ribcage.
Kneecap.
Fists kept swinging and I had no way to hide or reciprocate.
Grunts filled the cabin as they turned me from human to a piece of exercise equipment—pummelling from all angles.
Blackness stole my vision as a well-aimed fist struck my temple. I collapsed into a chair, breathing hard, tasting blood, hearing the yips and snarls of my inner demons.
Seven men to beat up one who was tied and defenceless.
Seven men who would have no intestines by the time dawn crested.
This was a playground scuffle.
&nb
sp; The instant I touched down in Spain the real fun would begin.
* * *
*Two hours after capture*
“We’re here.”
The car swung into a private estate hidden down a driveway. The high hedges circling the perimeter acted as a natural fence. The property was nowhere near as big as the Mercer chateau, but it nevertheless housed fifteen rooms, numerous lounges, and at least three dungeons to rent. I’d been offered the use of one with any girl I wanted more than once.
From here it looked quaint and picturesque, with lights glowing warmly from rounded sash windows, and trees swaying in the night-time breeze.
The vehicle came to a stop outside the entrance. Someone wrenched open my car door; leaning in, he cuffed me around the back of the head. Fuck me, I ached. My entire body was bruised, hurting even worse than the gunshot in my thigh.
“Get out, Mercer.”
I hadn’t been cuffed since I was a fucking six years old. I wasn’t about to take it when I was almost thirty.
I couldn’t stop the cold smile stretching my lips.
Grave mistake. Huge mistake.
We were in a completely different country to Tess. My honour didn’t cross borders—I’d kept my vow to go to Spain willingly. But we’d arrived and all promises were over.
Elegantly—or as much as I could with a beat up body—I stepped from the car. The guard moved away, grinning at my obedience. I grinned back. Another man grinned. Fuck, we all grinned at each other.
Fucking pricks.
I struck.
With my bound wrists, it didn’t give me the leverage I wanted, but I managed to splay my hands on either side of his skull and tear. I jerked fast and hard as if I uprooted a tree from dirt. And in a way—that was precisely what I did.
The snap of his neck echoed in the night sky before his body fell like a useless piece of timber.
“What!” The man who was in charge stomped forward, hands raised. “You fucking—”
I propelled both arms forward, forming one giant fist. The strike caught his chin perfectly, propelling him upright, sending him slamming onto his back.
I stood over him, ignoring my bruises, cut lip, and swollen eye, and invoked more anger to flow. It was the best painkiller—it would keep me free from agony until I had the luxury of relaxing.
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