by Amity Cross
Her eyelids began to flutter as I sat next to her. I’d taken her right to the edge of death so many times and I’d fucked her so hard… She was exhausted.
I caressed her face as she stirred, running a thumb over her full lips, remembering the feeling of them wrapped around my cock. People pleaded with me to spare their lives all the time. They got on their knees and cried, bargained, offered me money, and nothing had ever swayed me to even contemplate sparing them from their fate. Nothing had ever broken through until sex with Mercy Reid.
Ironic, really. The pussy that had broken the pretty boy killer.
Mercy’s eyes opened and she stared at me blankly for a moment until she realized where she was. Her lips parted and she went to raise a hand, but her movement was restricted. Jerking against the ropes, she stared up at me, a wild look of fear in her eyes. Fear mixed with confusion.
“X...”
“I can’t have you escaping, Mercy,” I murmured, running a hand through her hair. At least this time I gave her something to wear, although coming back to her naked body spread-eagled on my bed didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
“I promised I wouldn’t run,” she pleaded.
“I know you did,” I said, wondering how much she actually believed her own sentiment. “But it’s going to take a lot more than one night to break me, Mercy. A lot more.”
“Please, X.”
She gasped as I brushed my hand over her breast and lingered on the place I’d bitten in my manic state. The memory of her blood against my tongue made my cock stir.
“X,” she said again. “It hurts. The ropes hurt my skin. See?”
She glanced at her wrists, urging my gaze to follow and I reached up and took her hands in mine. Her skin was raw and peeling, chafed by the ropes I’d bound her with the night before. Knowing I’d put them there…it fucking turned me on.
“You have room to sit up,” I said, dropping her hands. “But I will not untie you again.”
I stood sharply and strode towards the door.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked and I stopped in the doorway, not knowing the answer to that question myself.
Mercy had sparked something inside of me, a chain reaction that I didn’t understand or had the knowledge to stop. She was mine now.
I’d lock her up and keep her there forever if I had to. I was a master at taking life away, maybe I could plant enough evidence to fake her death. Then I could keep her forever.
I glanced at her over my shoulder and smiled. “Whatever I want.”
Keeping secrets was my business, it was who I was, but it wasn’t something I’d ever had to do with Weiss or Royal Blood. It went against everything I was to keep them out of the loop. They knew all of my depravities better than I did.
I parked my bike out the front of The Gambler’s Inn, feeling torn for the first time in my sordid life. Keep her or kill her.
Shoving through the front door of the pub, my gaze automatically went to the bar. Fucking Mercy Reid. I knew she wasn’t there, but I looked all the same. Everywhere I turned there was a reminder of her waiting to assail my senses.
That fat Necromancer fuck that’d held a knife to her throat in that exact spot where Brock was standing. He was staring at me like I was a crazy motherfucker and wasn’t that the truth, now more than ever.
Whatever they did to me was unraveling piece by piece, but I had to stay stuck together for as long as I could. I didn’t understand how she cracked the edges of my mind and wormed her way in. I didn’t understand how I knew slivers of my past, but didn’t give a shit about piecing them together.
All I understood was that Mercy Reid was locked in my apartment and she was the woman who’d tried to kill Sykes. She was the woman I was meant to kill to appease my masters.
Glaring at Brock, I strode across the pub and shoved the door to Weiss’ office open with a violent jab.
“Fuck X,” Weiss cursed at my abrupt appearance.
I sank down onto the sofa, kicking my boots up onto the coffee table. “Got any of that fancy scotch?”
“I’m saving that, asshole.”
I raised an eyebrow. “For what? Another Necromancer raid? You gunna give some to your boyfriend out front?”
Weiss sighed sharply and got up from his chair. “Whatever.” He took down the scotch from on top of the filing cabinet and poured two glasses. Handing one to me, he asked, “What’s up your ass? Shouldn’t you be out looking for-”
“I’m getting to it,” I snapped, taking the glass.
“What happened to your hand?” Weiss asked, giving me the once over. “You look like fucking shit, by the way.”
I glanced at the broken skin across my knuckles and shook my hand out like it would instantly cure the wound. An image of the broken plaster in my bedroom flashed through my mind. “Nothing.”
“How's it going? Sykes is asking questions.”
“It’s been less than two weeks, Weiss. He can get fucked.”
“Try telling that to him,” he said, sitting behind the desk again. “He wants results, X. The trail is getting colder by the minute.”
“Then they shouldn’t have left it so fucking long,” I snapped before downing a mouthful of scotch. The alcohol burned a smooth trail down the back of my throat. This really was the good stuff. Weiss had been holding out on me.
“How close are you?”
“Closer than they ever got.” She was locked in my apartment, but I wasn’t so sure I was going to give her up yet. Mercy was my key to freedom, but in her desperation, she’d offered me something a little more delectable than that. She’d offered retribution for us both, but she’d also offered my soul. Royal Blood couldn’t give me that. They would never give back what they’d taken.
“Have you seen Mercy?” Weiss asked, tapping the side of his glass.
I glanced up, unsure of what to say.
“I know you two were fucking,” he said. “I warned her off you. If you’ve done something to her, X…”
“I’ve done shit to her,” I snapped. “I fucked her over your desk, by the way. I came right there.” I pointed to where his cigarettes were sitting in front of him.
Weiss jerked back, picking up his precious smokes, a look of disgust on his face. “Ugh, you dirty fuck.”
“I seem to remember you fucking some bitch on the back of my bike,” I said rolling my eyes. “I call this even.”
“I'm not shitting around, X. She didn't turn up for work.”
“Is that why that gobshite Brock is back out there?”
“I'm worried about her.”
I snorted, trying to cover up my jealousy. That was a new one and fuck it stung. “Why? Want to stick your pin dick in her?”
“Fuck, X,” Weiss said, leaning back in his chair. “You of all people could see she was good for this place. I don't know what the fuck she was looking to get lost from, but I'd rather she did it here.”
Fuck me. If he knew who Mercy really was, his opinion would do a total one-eighty.
“Maybe she wanted to get lost someplace else,” I said, never taking my gaze from his.
“See,” he replied, jabbing his finger at me, “when you say shit like that, it gives me the chills. You better not have-”
“Believe me Weiss, I have not killed Mercy Reid. How could I deprive the world of her bitch of a mouth?”
Weiss narrowed his eyes. “So you're not shitting me. You really haven't seen her?”
“I'm not shitting you,” I replied, annoyance starting to shred my control. “I fucked her the night before last. Left her naked and spread out on her bed. That was the last time I saw her.”
“Fine,” Weiss declared, pulling a cigarette out of his packet. “But I just want to know one thing.”
I raised an eyebrow as he flicked his lighter and stuck the end of his cigarette into the flame.
“Did she fuck you or did you fuck her?”
I let a sly smile pull at my lips. Weiss knew nothing, which meant I s
till had all the power.
“You know me,” I said. “I fuck everyone one way or another.”
“Fuck, do I know it.” He took drag from his cigarette and let the smoke billow from his mouth. “You okay with this one? I mean, a hit has never taken you this long before.”
“It’s not as straightforward as I’m used to,” I replied. I swirled the scotch around in my glass and breathed in the scent. Even if Mercy Reid wasn’t behind it, it would still be difficult. “The trail is already cold.”
“Nothing like a good challenge to get you back in the game, huh?”
I snorted before downing the rest of the scotch. Standing, I slid the empty glass across the desk and Weiss caught it before it smashed onto the floor. As far as I was concerned my status report was over.
“If you see Mercy, tell her to get her ass in here.”
“And why would I see her?”
Weiss regarded me for a moment. “Suit yourself.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I realized that my ‘best mate’ had a thing for Mercy. Like fuck I’d let him get his greasy paws on her. Not if I had anything to do with it. Without another word, I shoved out of Weiss’ office wondering what I was going to do about that. I knew him well enough to understand that if she didn’t show up soon, he would go looking and the first place he’d check was my apartment.
What was I going to do about that? Whatever it took.
I wasn’t ready to give her up yet.
Twenty-Two
Mercy
I waited for what felt like an age before I tested the rope around my wrists.
X was gone, doing god knew what, and there was no way I was letting him tie me up again. He had to see that he could trust me…and I had to see a little more of the man I was trying my hardest to save.
He’d left the lamp on, but the curtains were shut tight. It could be any time of day out there and I wouldn’t even know. I had no idea how long I was out for, how long X had toyed with me and how long I’d slept for afterwards.
I had no way of knowing that when he came back, that he would still be in the same mindset, or if he would be alone. There was only one thing he’d said to me that gave me any sliver of hope that I still had him. They were meant to let me go.
I wriggled my wrists against the rope, trying to get some slack against the knot. If I could loosen it just enough, I might be able to slip a hand free. I worked at the rope, sawing into my skin even more. Little droplets of blood oozed to the surface and I hissed, licking my skin to soothe the burn. I let my head bang against the headboard of the bed, the image of X over me, sinking his teeth into my skin seared into my memory. He’d looked so…enraptured.
Gasping as the rope bit into my skin even more, I tugged hard and my right hand slipped free. He’d restrained me again, but this time he’d been gentle about it. I had to give him at least half a point for that one. X was going in the right direction. I just had to hope that by going out into the world and back into his sordid hitman life, he wouldn’t forget what had happened here.
Flexing my fingers, I slid across the bed, placing my bare feet onto the carpet. Standing, I winced as my muscles screamed in protest. I felt him all over me. His hands, his mouth…his cock. X had almost obliterated me and it was only day fucking one. Or at least it still felt like day one.
Balls, Mercy, I thought. Show him your big balls. Don’t let him give you shit. It was the exact same thing I’d thought the day I’d met Weiss at The Gambler’s Inn… Fuck! Weiss… I’d probably already missed a shift at the pub and I hadn’t missed any before. I’d never even been late. Snorting at the irony of being a model employee, I shuffled across the carpet towards X’s closet of horrors.
What if he came looking? What would X do if he was forced to hand me over? That was a thought too heavy to handle, so for now I resigned myself to something I could tackle right now and that was going through X’s stuff.
I’d caught a glimpse the night before when X had fetched a knife to cut me free and that was bad enough. What else did he keep in here? I slid open the closet door, my hands shaking and slipping on the handle.
I gasped as I laid eyes on the full extent of X’s depravity. These were the tools of his trade. I got the fact that he was a hitman, that he killed people for money and for Royal Blood, but it was another thing seeing it.
I ran my fingers over a rack of knives, nasty looking things with different kinds of blades. Some were long and thin, others wide with jagged teeth, but all of them had one thing in common. They could gut a man from head to toe in one fell swoop. My entire body tingled at the thought of the blades cutting into my chest and I swallowed the urge to heave up the non-existent contents of my empty stomach.
I could run…I could run and hope that I could get far enough before X came back, but who was I fucking kidding? I had nowhere to go. No friends, no family, no money or belongings. I could go to the cops, but I’d be stuck into witness protection for the rest of my life. I’d never get my chance for revenge then. Sykes would be untouchable. No, I had to take a gamble on X. He was my only hope and my fucked up heart wouldn’t be able to take it if I left him behind.
I slid the door further across, opening the closet space right up and gasped as the full extent of X’s collection came to light. There were all kinds of guns in a rack to one side, semi-automatics, shotguns, revolvers, handguns, silencers and scopes and drawers full of ammunition.
Holy fucking shit.
I stared at a high tech looking sniper rifle and felt a pang of fear, but at the same time, I wondered if I could learn to use something like that.
I leaned further into the closet and stumbled, my knees giving out beneath me. My shoulder smashed into the back paneling hard and I winced as pain shot through my bones. Fuck. I was weak, hungry and hadn’t washed in at least two days. X wasn’t the only one in this equation having a breakdown. I smashed a fist against the back of the closet in frustration, but stilled as I was greeted with a hollow thud. There was something hidden behind all of this madness...
The pain began to dissipate as my curiosity got the better of me and I pressed my palms against the wall and pushed. A faint click echoed in the closeness of the closet and the wall began to slide to the left. It was a false panel and it’d only been stupid luck that I’d found it at all. The entire wall was smooth and the joints in the paneling could easily be mistaken for being a part of the cabinetry.
I wondered what it was for. A panic room? A hiding place for a safe? It was too small for the former, so it must hold things that were too sordid to keep on display. I peered into the opening and found a narrow crawl space that ran the entire length of the room. It was wide enough for me to stand in, with my chest pressed against the wall and my back against the closet, so I slipped inside.
To my right, a safe had been set into one end. It looked like a locker in the hallways of a high school someplace, except for the keypad on the front. I brushed my fingers across the numbers and wondered what X kept inside. Passports, money, papers, evidence… All the things that could put him away for a very long time…or the things that could help him disappear. Him and me.
Shimmying back into the closet, I slid the false panel back into place and it closed with a click. If things got rough, then maybe I could use it as a place to hide out. Wishful thinking that X wouldn’t check there first, but it was something.
My stomach began to squirm as I turned to the bedroom door and lingered at the threshold. If all those weapons hung in his closet, what was waiting for me out there? I had to grow a pair and take a step. I was still the same woman who’d broken into Sykes’ home undetected and managed to get out unscathed, so this should be a piece of cake. There was no trigger to pull here.
Padding tentatively down the hall, I listened for any movement ahead. It was silent other than the occasional thump from someone in a nearby apartment. From the looks of the place so far, it was modest, much like my own had been. I wasn't sure it fit X's MO of being a hitman. If he worke
d for cash, wouldn't he have a better place? Nicer things, more security?
At the end of the hall, the space opened out into a joined lounge and kitchen. I saw the refrigerator first and my stomach growled. How long had it been since I’d eaten anything? I couldn’t remember, maybe it was before starting my last shift at The Gambler’s Inn and who knew when that was.
Darting forward, I wrenched the door open and the little light inside flicked on illuminating a shelf of Corona beers and not much else. Groaning in disappointment, I wondered what the hell X even ate. Opening the freezer, I found that empty too. Motherfucker.
I rifled through drawers and cupboards, but I didn’t find much of anything. The man only kept clothes, weapons and beer in his apartment. Typical male behavior, but there was nothing typical about X.
Turning, I cast my gaze across the rest of the apartment. Two large windows were set into the wall that let in the muted orange glow from the street lamps outside and there was a modest sofa and coffee table, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. The opposite wall was plastered with photographs, newspaper clippings…all kinds of things stuck together like a puzzle. Like X had sat here for hours on end trying to solve a crime…
My breath hitched as I put two and two together.
Stepping forward, I rounded the kitchen bench and approached the wall, knowing that I was going to relive the horror of that night all over again. I’d stood there on the gravel outside my family home as a detective talked at me, thinking about the beautiful corpses inside. I’d wanted color and beauty in my life, but all I got was this…pain. The color red would never hold the same meaning for me ever again.
Red was the color of the blood that stained the cream carpet.
Red was the color that was underneath the spot right between the eyes.
I leaned against the wall, my legs feeling like they would crumple beneath me at any moment. I ran my fingers over the papers, reading the headlines that described the things that had happened while I was out being a selfish cow. I was out having a mediocre orgasm while my family got shot in the head.