His Devil's Mercy

by Linzi Basset

  “Now, why are you wearing a sweater and a leather jacket in the hottest month of the year?” Max wondered aloud. The man stopped and turned to face the street cam. Max could swear he was looking directly into the camera. The man’s lips moved. “What the fuck?”

  He replayed the section in slow motion and concentrated on reading the man’s lips. “I want to . . . hmmm, let’s try again. Not getting the last part,” Max concentrated harder this time. “I want to come . . . home.” He stared intently at the man’s face. “Hmm, let’s see what else you’re up to, young man,” Max said and let the feed play on. The man repeated the same pattern four or five times. Walking back and forth, facing the camera and repeated the same words. The last time, he looked around briefly, snatched off the sunglasses and looked into the camera, voicing the same words. “I want to come home, Maxi-milian.”

  Max choked on the last word—his full name. Only one person had ever dared to call him that—apart from his and Jack’s mother. He stared at the face that was now frozen on the screen. He enlarged the frame. “Fuck me. Joanne . . . it’s you. I found you! Jesus, Jo, how the hell did you manage to survive? Hell, what am I saying? How the fuck did you escape?”

  He leaned closer and traced the shape of her face on the screen with his forefinger. It was her. Max was stumped—unable to believe what was in front of his eyes. She’d lost weight and the stress was evident in the taut lines of the face that was staring back at him.

  “She knew I would find her. She’d believed in me.” Max’s voice grated hoarsely in the silent room. “Fuck, Jo, where are you, baby? Where did you go from there?”

  He concentrated on the feed from that point on. He smiled after twenty minutes. She was keeping in sight of the street traffic cams.

  “How many times have you done this over the past year, Jo?” He asked aloud while he made notes on his iPad. “Now, it’s up to me to find you. Fuck, baby, I need more clues. Show me where you’re going.”

  She got into an old bright green jeep. Max squinted and wrote down the registration plate number. It was a long shot, but he might get lucky if it was actually registered.

  Max slowly became frustrated when she headed out of Riyadh. He lost track of her a couple of times but using the six screens, he always found her.

  “Fucking hell, Jo, not the desert.” He grunted irritably but smiled when she stopped and sprinted toward the street sign at the side of the street. “Clever girl. She knows there are no street cams from that point. Ah, thanks, baby.” Max scribbled down “Yabreen”, the town name she’d tapped on the board.

  He watched the jeep drive off for as long as the satellite had a visual on it. For the first time in over a year, Max finally had hope. He could feel the excitement inside him.

  “I found her. Jesus! I can’t believe it. Damn, I’m proud of you, baby. So, fucking clever.”

  Max hacked into the NASA GEO satellite but couldn’t find aerial coverage of Yabreen. It was strange that there wasn’t even an aerial shot of the area. He frowned. It seems the area within a thousand square miles radius had a ban on aerial photography.

  His eye caught the date stamp on the satellite feeds he’d been watching. “Three months ago. I should’ve started with Riyadh and not wasted time scanning the coastal areas,” he berated himself. He spent the rest of the night running through the feeds and realized that Joanne had repeated the same ritual once a month, at the exact same date and time. She must be making regular trips into the city for some reason.

  Max felt charged. The last trip had been three weeks ago, which meant that she would be in Riyadh in a week’s time. More than enough time for him to get to Saudi Arabia and to intercept her at that street corner.

  He sobered as he stared at the frozen picture of her on the monitor screen once more.

  “It seems too easy.”

  Max researched Yabreen until he knew everything he could find about the inhabitants and who reigned supreme.

  Two tribes had conquered that part of the desert. Sheikh Juhayman bin Muhammad, leader of Al Subaie, the renegades, whose headquarters was in Yabreen, and Sheikh Lufti bin Qara, who reigned over his own tribe, Banu Qara, in a neighboring town, Nadqan. There was no love lost between the two tribes and according to what he could find; they were at war with each other.

  “One way or another, Joanne has been clever enough to disguise herself as a man. I won’t be surprised if she has infiltrated one of the tribes. How, I have no fucking idea.”

  He shuddered thinking about what she must’ve lived through the last year.

  Chapter Two

  Riyadh was an urban jungle, just like Max remembered—tall buildings in a grid pattern. It was both a modern metropolis and a historic treasure. The city was a juxtaposition of modern shopping malls and traditional souks, hundred-story skyscrapers against the Masmak Fort, a century-old, mud and clay palace—a distinctive heritage and cultural melting pot. Expensive cars whizzed past Max as he moved along in the crowd.

  Max glanced at the Casio G-Shock Solar watch on his wrist. He was early. If Joanne kept the same ritual, she was due to arrive in an hour. He preferred being early. Now, he could find the perfect, inconspicuous spot to wait and watch.

  He blended in perfectly with his naturally dark skin, blue jeans, black shirt and a red and white checkered keffiyeh on his head. His electric blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of black aviators. He blended well with the crowd and no one gave him a second glance. He had a clear view of the street corner where he expected Joanne to arrive. As the time drew near, the steady summer sun became increasingly unbearable, even in the shadow of the large billboard he was standing next to. Sunrays licked at his face like a hot-blooded serpent. The black tar road smoldered and heat wafted up in a haze.

  “Joanne must hate it here. She always loved the winter, especially the snow.” Max said sotto voce.

  A smile curved his lips in memory of how she used to love playing in the snow when they were younger. Even though he and Jack were ten years older than her, they could never resist her cute dimpled smile. They’d always ended up playing ‘angels’ in the snow with her. His brows drew closer.

  Maybe she’d crawled into his heart then; with her sweet smile and her sassy attitude. His hands fisted. He’d royally fucked up with her. When she’d agreed to become his sub, she’d been new to the lifestyle. He had been a seasoned Dom by then already. He should’ve known better and kept patience with her. On the other hand, he shouldn’t have caved in to her at all. Not when he wasn’t ready for an exclusive Dom/sub relationship. Their breakup had almost cost him his friendship with Jack, who had been away on an assignment for six months and hadn’t known about them. He had come back to find his sister heartbroken.

  “Yeah, regret always comes too late,” he muttered to himself.

  She’d walked away from him and never looked back. He’d often wondered if she’d come to hate him. He hoped not. He would never admit it to anyone, but he’d silently wished they would get back together. He’d missed her, this last year, even more so. During the endless nights, he would try to recapture their tender lovemaking, the intense scenes at the club that had ended in wild sex. It was then that he’d come to realize that Joanne had given herself to him like no other sub could.

  Max recognized the swagger he’d watched so many times on the satellite feed, before he realized it was her. He didn’t move from where he slumped against the board. His eyes were drawn to the taut line of her lips. He stiffened when he noticed the two bulky men who were flagging her on either side, which was obviously the source of her irritation.

  They entered a diner further down the street. Max remained still. He had a clear view of the entrance. He waited. Joanne would find a way to get back to the crossing and perform her little ritual. Once she set her mind to something, come hell or high water, she achieved it.

  Fifteen minutes later, she reappeared and walked briskly to the street corner; looking around before she performed the same ritual in front of the s
treet cam. Max squinted. There seemed to be urgency in her face, but before he could approach her, she turned and sprinted back to the diner. The third time she took the spot in front of the street cam, Max straightened and walked toward her. His strides were long, confident and carried his large frame with ease.

  Joanne turned around. He saw the shock register on her face before she could hide it. A small smile played on his lips. He wished she wasn’t wearing the sunglasses so that he could see her expression. His eyes dropped to her full, cupid-shaped lips. He watched them move to whisper his name.

  “Maximilian.”

  Max may have physically prepared himself to come face to face with Joanne, but he hadn’t counted on how it would affect him emotionally.

  His limbs moved on their own accord and he found himself a hairbreadth away from her. The sound of the traffic and people milling around faded into the background. He disconnected from everything but the ever-present sound of his drumming heart, his body suddenly broke into cold sweat as he felt the heat from her body flowing through him.

  “You found me,” she whispered. Her hands brushed lightly across his chest before she clamped her fists by her sides. She looked around but neither of them stepped back.

  He was captivated by the emotions playing across her face. His eyes flashed as her pouty, delicious lip disappeared between her teeth. A desire to be the one—the only one—to mold and shape her to his own needs filled his mind with visions of debauchery, as well as tender desires. His cock flexed unexpectedly in his pants.

  “Did you doubt that I would, Jo?”

  * * * * * * * *

  Joanne blinked. She couldn’t believe that he was standing in front of her—as big and as gorgeous as she remembered. His words were like cold water in the scorching desert.

  How was it possible that he still had such an effect on her? After all the years, of shutting her heart to this compelling man who’d given her the first taste of domination. He had tapped into her submissive side and in the process given her the power to find the strength within herself to let go of her inhibitions.

  Only, it hadn’t been enough. Not in the end. He’d made that abundantly clear.

  Joanne could feel his eyes on her and wished he would remove his sunglasses. She’d always admired his electric blue eyes. In her opinion, his unflinching gaze was a sign of confidence that oozed from his persona. Her eyes dropped to his broad shoulders, arms and ripped chest.

  He always appeared larger than life because of that.

  “You look weird with that keffiyeh on your head,” she murmured, wondering if his black hair still had the same tousled look as years ago. She used to know he was agitated or angry when he’d dragged his hands through it. Her eyes moved over his broad forehead, high cheekbones and a square, sculpted jaw. His aquiline nose sat above a wide, very kissable mouth that appeared wicked, framed by his neat scruffy beard. His lips curved upward in enjoyment. He had the audacity to chuckle. His expression was a mix of amusement and admonishment.

  “Horny, baby?”

  Joanne felt the blush heat her cheeks. Horny was putting it mildly.

  His closeness and his familiar smell caused hot shards to tingle her loins. It had been too long since she’d had sex and her body was reacting to his overwhelming charisma. The black shirt hugged his wide chest, hinting at the six-pack underneath. Joanne licked her lips—awed by the sinewy strength in his broad shoulders as he flexed his arms under her regard. She swallowed and tried to tame the burgeoning lust that amplified even more when he reached out to brush his long fingers over her cheek. He exuded power and dominance without making any effort.

  “Even dressed as a scruffian, you’re as beautiful as ever, baby. I can’t believe these assholes haven’t realized that there is a sultry and luscious woman hidden beneath these loose clothes. But, you need to curb the desire to jump my bones, baby. I’m sure it would be frowned upon for two men to hump each other on the street corner.”

  The rush of heat that suddenly swirled inside her loins reflected the warmth flooding her thundering heart. The feeling was disconcerting to say the least. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in this man. Not again. He’d hurt her too much in the past.

  “Are you trying to blow my cover, Maximilian?” Joanne asked in a chilled voice.

  Max cocked his head to the side. He removed the sunglasses and his eyes shifted to her lips. Her heart missed a beat. She could barely breathe. She stared at the pristine sclera that surrounded his blue eyes in fascination. Max’s eyes always mirrored his sincere emotions. This time was no different. Max was out to score, and she was the prize.

  “Would it matter, Jo? That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To take you back home.” His voice softened. The resonance of his dulcet-tone caught her off-guard. A tremor shuddered through her vulnerable core.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet, Mr. Shaw. And I better get back . . . fuck! It’s too late.”

  “Jarrah? Who is this man?” A guttural voice grated in Arabic from behind Max.

  “Ugh . . . fucck!” Max gasped when Joanne stepped into him and brought her knee up hard to slam into his balls.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered against his cheek as he doubled over. She looked at the two men who stood watching with suspicion in their eyes. Her voice turned deep and gruff. “Bring him. He’s the spy Sheikh Juhayman has been searching for.”

  “You’re gonna pay for that,” Max gritted through clenched teeth.

  “Keep your trap shut, bastard,” she snapped and for added effect, kicked him against the shoulder so that he tumbled back onto his ass from his hunched over position. He was still clutching his crown jewels with a painful expression on his face. Joanne worried that she might have kicked him a little too hard. His eyes seared her with a promise of retribution.

  The two men grabbed him and dragged him toward the green jeep parked around the corner. Joanne got behind the wheel and took off with a screech of tires.

  “Keep your cool, Max. We’ve got your coordinates and will be close.” Rhone's voice came through the tiny earpiece that he and Richard had designed. It was flesh colored and attached to the inside of the ear, which made it completely unnoticeable. It was also a GPS enabled device.

  Max had decided against telling Jack that he’d found Joanne. But, his sixth sense had warned him that he would need backup. Because he had to get into the country undetected and fast, he’d asked Rhone and Bruce for help. They’d agreed that the two of them would stay with the chopper, a Sikorsky S-97 Raider, to ensure they didn’t draw attention, seeing as it was designed to prevent being detected by radar. Max, on his own, could get away pretending to be an Arab but two or more of his size, would’ve stood out like a sore thumb.

  “Are you sure this is him, Jarrah?” The man sitting next to Max asked. He stared at Max with a disbelieving frown.

  “I’m not an idiot, Akil. Of course, it’s him,” Joanne clipped icily over her shoulder. She was deliberately talking in English, which was the trade language in Saudi Arabia and most people understood it.

  “This man looks Arabic. I thought the spy was an American,” Akil cut back.

  “I suppose you’re a tad short sighted then, Akil,” Max taunted him and batted his eyelids at him. “I’ve got baby blues, mate. Not something you’d find in your DNA. Well, very rarely, that is.”

  “Shut your trap, American,” Joanne snapped, but kept her attention on the road ahead. They had left the city behind and were traveling toward the desert.

  “And who's gonna make me? You? With your puny little body?” Max continued to taunt her. He noticed Joanne bite her lip. He was in his element. He loved to tease and always used humor to break down his opponent’s defenses.

  “So, by the way, where are my shades? I paid an arm and a leg for that pair. I’ll be fucking pissed if you left them on the curb back there,” he continued in a serious tone.

  Joanne flashed an irritating look in his direction. He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed as
she cursed.

  “What rubbish are you saying?” Akil growled. He slapped Max’s arm. “Your arm and leg are still attached to your body.”

  “It would take too long to explain that idiom, Akil. I doubt you have the astuteness to grasp it.”

  Joanne choked back a laugh and coughed to cover it up.

  Akil glared at Max. “You talk funny. You, shut up.” It was evident that he didn’t understand half of the words Max had used and suspected that he was being ridiculed.

  “My father—bless his soul—used to say that he’ll shut up when he’s dead. I agree with him. Silence is completely overrated.” Max kicked the seat, turning his sights to the man in front of him. “What do you think, mate? My name is Gregorian Alexandros, so by the way. What do you answer to?”

  Joanne broke into another cacophony of choking coughs.

  The man turned in his seat. His stare was cold, filled with hate. “You talk too much, American. Shut the fuck up or I’ll stuff my boot into your trap.”

  “Whoa! An Arab with a sense of humor. I like that. Give me five, mate! I think you and I will become friends.” Max turned his back toward Akil. “C’mon, untie me so I can high five Mr. Grumpy over there.”

  Joanne cleared her throat. The amusement was clear in her voice when she said, “I would heed Hamal’s warning, American. He has a short fuse. You don’t want to lose your front teeth, now do you?”

  Max had been contemplating Joanne’s strategy since she’d kicked him in the balls. For someone who wanted out of the country, she was making it rather difficult to leave. They could’ve been well on their way already if she hadn’t incapacitated him.

  Little hellcat. She’s gonna pay for that. My fucking balls are still hurting.

  There had to be something else on the line that he didn’t know about. He just prayed it wouldn’t cost their lives in the process.