by Amity Cross
“Everything will be okay,” I murmured, kissing his neck.
He held me so tight, it was like he was clinging to me to stop himself from drowning. Which was ironic, considering where we were and as far as I was concerned, he could hold onto me for as long as he needed.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispered.
“I’m bringing you back to life.”
As we curled up in the bottom of the shower, water pounding over us, I realized he’d never answered my question about my fate.
And you know what? I didn’t give the slightest fuck.
Twenty-Seven
X
One touch from Mercy Reid was all it took to break my resolve.
Staring into the bathroom mirror, I regarded the black eye Sykes had given me. It’d swollen some, but I could still see out of it. It’d go down in a couple of days, but who the fuck cared? A black eye meant shit when I had less than forty-eight hours to deliver my mark.
I had two options. Give him Mercy or die.
But there was a third, wasn’t there? Another option that she’d been trying to drum into me from the moment she’d woken up tied to my bed.
Forsake everything I had ever come to know, abandon my nature, abandon my masters, take her and run. That freedom would only come with a river of blood and a pile of corpses. The pile that I already sat atop was higher than I could ever hope to count.
There was movement behind me and I caught Mercy’s reflection in the mirror. The bruises around her neck were changing from black to yellow, fading at the edges. Her unnatural black hair hung around her shoulders, blending in with the T-shirt she wore. The sight of her wearing my clothes did something strange to my heart and I closed my eyes to separate myself from it. She’d had plenty of reason to give up, plenty of opportunities to escape, but she was still here.
“Where are you going?” she asked when I didn’t say anything.
“I need to see Weiss,” I replied.
She was silent and I opened my eyes, fixing on her reflection again. She looked panicked and I couldn’t blame her.
“Royal Blood expect results,” I went on. “I have to report.”
“Are you-?”
“Don’t.” My fingers dug into the counter top.
“X-”
“Mercy,” I snapped. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the fuck up.”
She cowered against the doorframe, but didn’t let her gaze drop from mine. She had balls, all right. Maybe next time she wouldn’t choke.
Straightening up to my full height, I turned to face her. “Stay here.”
She sunk back into the hallway as I passed, not making a move to stop me. No doubt, she’d be gone by the time I came back and maybe I should feel something about that, but right now I didn’t give a fuck. Give her a head start. I’d catch her eventually.
Forty-eight hours. It was more like thirty-seven now.
I picked up my leather jacket from the sofa and slid it on, scooping up my keys from where I’d dropped them on the floor.
“X,” Mercy called out and I turned, watching her linger in the dark hallway. Her fingers curled around the doorjamb, her gaze tentative. “Can you bring back something to eat?”
Without a word, I shoved open the front door and left her behind, knowing that she’d still be there when I got back.
Yeah, and my heart did this stupid fucking fast beating thing at the thought.
The Gambler’s Inn was deader than dog shit.
The clientele had really dropped off since I kidnapped Mercy Reid. Brock was a real fucking shining example of customer service with his sour expression and asshole exterior. He didn’t have the same flair as Mercy. Nobody did.
As I crossed the pub, going straight for Weiss’ office, I never even glanced to the side. There was no point lingering out here anymore. Brock’s tits were a negative five million on a scale of one to ten.
I felt the eyes of the entire place watching me as I made my way through the old pub. Must have something to do with the black eye. It was no secret I was somebody to be feared, but with this shit on my face? They either thought I was full on crazy or thought they had a chance to take me out. There went my fucking credibility.
I jabbed open the door to the office and Weiss glanced up, his expression contorting in a sympathetic wince as he saw Sykes’ handiwork. Motherfucker.
“Sykes really did a number on your face,” he said as I sat down.
I shrugged.
“You’re not the pretty one anymore,” he said with a laugh, before lighting a smoke.
“At least for a few days.”
“I’m not sure how many times I can warn you, X,” he said, tossing his lighter onto the desk. “You’re playing a dangerous game. Sykes will kill you given the slightest provocation and Greggor has a mind to do the same.”
I snorted. In other words, if their dog didn’t bark on command then they’d take it out back and put it down, then chop it up into little pieces and bury the evidence. I was already a ghost so they could save themselves a step right there.
“Sykes gave me forty-eight hours,” I said. “That was…I don’t know…a while ago.” I waved my hand absently.
“Fucking hell,” Weiss exclaimed. “Do you want to die, X? I thought you wanted your freedom. That's what this job is. One more hit and you can ride off into the fucking sunset. What the fuck happened to you?”
Did I want to die? Is that why I kept pushing the envelope on every front? Maybe. It would be a sight more peaceful than this shit.
“I’ll do something about it, Weiss,” I said to appease him more than me.
“You fucking better. If you fail, you’re dead, but it also means all out war for those left behind. Don’t be a selfish cunt.”
“Oh shit,” I said, throwing my hands into the air in mock defense. “Sorry to let you down, boss.”
Weiss shook his head, a concerned expression on his face. “Maybe it’s a good fucking thing you’re getting out.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you close to finding the mark?” he asked, putting the million-dollar question right on the table.
“I’m close.” The mark was in my apartment.
“You’re going to deliver in the time frame Sykes wants?”
I nodded.
“X.”
“I will deliver results, Weiss. Fucking lay off.” I was going to deliver results all fucking right and maybe…just maybe…it wasn’t going to be the ones Sykes or Greggor wanted. Maybe they could go get fucked and have fun fighting a never-ending turf war. Blood for blood.
“Mercy still hasn’t shown up,” Weiss declared.
“You’re still on that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I knew he was just fishing for information, he suspected I’d done something to her.
“You were around here quite a bit sniffing around her pussy, X.”
“Oh fucking hell, Weiss,” I exclaimed. “I fucked her a couple of times. I’ve got better things to do than lead her on indefinitely, you know that. Besides, I’m incapable of more. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
“Fuck ‘em and leave ‘em?” he asked with a lewd wink.
“We need to go out and find you some pussy to bang,” I drawled. “It’s a sure bet if I go along.”
“Asshole.” Weiss took a long drag from the end of his cigarette. “You know I would’ve liked to fuck Mercy at least once before she split.”
He was still fishing, he knew me too fucking well. She was my weakness, and by showing up here as much as I did before I understood how deep it ran, had only served to put me in the metaphoric shit. My eyebrow twitched as I tried to keep it together.
“How was she X? It’s not like you to hold out on me.”
I shrugged. “She purred like a fucking kitten when I stuck my finger in her ass,” I said, every word slicing into my chest like a thousand knives.
“You’ve seen her, haven’t you?” Weiss asked, sitting up straight.
The
re wasn’t any use hiding it now. I nodded. “I’ve seen her.”
Weiss sat up straight in his chair, his cigarette forgotten. “And?”
“And what?”
He frowned. “Did she say why she split?”
“She didn’t say anything of much,” I replied, thinking about all the things she did say. Dangerous, forbidden things…
“Fuck, X. I’m not shitting around.”
“I could never get out of her what she was running from,” I said absently. That was the truth, oddly enough. I had to threaten her with her life to even get the words past her lips. I’d solved the puzzle and she still hadn’t talked. You could be in awe of her choice for bravery or stupidity. Either was a safe bet.
“Fuck,” Weiss said through a heavy breath.
“You want a master manipulator? Maybe she can have my job once I’m gone.” My expression started to fall and I quickly corrected myself before Weiss picked up on the change. Mercy had the capability to become an assassin. She had all the markers. Fuck, she’d gotten all the way to the end of her plot, but there was one thing she couldn’t get right. She couldn’t pull the trigger.
Mercy Reid was fucking right. We could do this together. I could be the one to show her how to pull the trigger.
“She’d have to come back for that,” Weiss replied. “Though I’m not so sure. She hesitated when those Necromancers came in here. It takes a special kind of monster to pull the trigger, you know that X.”
“I know.” I knew better than anyone what it took and especially what had to be sacrificed in order to do it. But most of all, I knew what it took to live with it afterward.
“You better get the fuck out of here, then. You’ve got a mark to deliver. I expect a photo on my desk in-”
I checked my watch. “Thirty-six hours.”
Standing, I swiped the bottle of scotch from its home on top of the filing cabinet and twisted the cap off.
“Fuck off,” Weiss exclaimed.
I tossed the lid at him and backed towards the door. “I’ll pay you back.”
As the door closed behind me, I heard his pissed off reply, “Like fuck you will.”
There were a lot of uncertainties in this story, but I knew that all the pieces didn’t add up. Not all of mine anyway and one thing was crystal clear. Weiss was switched on to the fact that I knew more than I was letting on. I gave away that I knew something about Mercy Reid and wasn’t inclined to share. Now he’d dig and find out everything. That’s what a man did when he had a hard on for a beautiful woman and even more so when the said woman was unobtainable.
Out front of the pub, I sat on my bike in the darkness and downed the last of the scotch in one go. I threw the bottle into the gutter and it shattered against the old bluestone, echoing down the empty street. Just another timeline to deal with. No problems.
I stared at the pizza shop down the street. It was the only other place open, besides the pub, and the one thing I could think of amongst all the shit I was in was the fact that Mercy hadn’t eaten in three days. There should’ve been a lot more pressing things to wonder about, but she came straight to mind.
I had a sick twisted case of Stockholm syndrome. Wasn’t the victim meant to fall for their captor, not the other way around?
Maybe I’d been the victim all along.
Kicking my bike into life, I roared down the street in the opposite direction. I had something more pressing to do than get her food. I had to plant the seeds that would save our lives, because when my time was up, I had to be one hundred percent sure I was making the right decision.
Keep her or kill her.
Twenty-Eight
Mercy
I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do in X’s apartment until he got back. He lived incredibly ‘light’.
There was no television, no books or newspapers, no food…there was just a wall of murder and a closet full of tools to accomplish it. Despite my precarious situation, I was bored.
I could be planning Sykes’ murder, or I could be planning my escape with X when he finally saw the light. I could be doing a lot of things, but I’d promised I wouldn’t leave. If X came back and I wasn’t here…then all the suffering we’d gone through in the past few days would be for nothing.
Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself. Summer was coming, but it was still cold inside the apartment and I still wore nothing but X’s T-shirt. It carried his scent and I buried myself in it for comfort. Twisted, but what was I going to do about it? Nothing.
I padded into the bedroom, my bare feet numb with cold. Spying my bag in the corner, I pulled the zipper open and began rifling through the contents. I was in such a hurry to stuff my things in there, I wasn’t sure what exactly I’d packed. Thankfully, I put my hands on underwear and socks amongst the shirts and jeans that I favored these days. My boots were against the wall, carefully placed together, the toes flush against the skirting. He’d cared enough to take care of my things. I suddenly felt warm at the thought that he’d cared for me at least a little bit since the beginning.
I was shimmying into a pair of knickers when I heard a loud knock at the front door. My head snapped up at the sharp sound, my heart pounding. I’d gotten so used to the silence that any noise, no matter how small, felt out of the ordinary.
I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to hide when I probably should be screaming for help. But knowing the kind of men X probably ran with, that didn’t seem like the best idea.
I hesitated, holding my breath. Maybe they’d go away.
There was another knock on the door, this time a little louder. When there was no answer, there was a metallic rattle and the sound of the deadbolt opening echoed through the apartment.
My heart thundered in my chest. What if it was Necromancers? What if it was Sykes? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I peered around the doorframe and into the hall as the front door opened and I stifled a gasp as Weiss came into view. I should’ve known he’d eventually come looking. He’d given me nothing to fear from him from day one and he’d even been there to help X save me from those Necromancer thugs, but something told me that this wasn’t the same man.
I knew he was X’s handler, that much was obvious now, but the burning question was, how much did he know about me? X had said he’d gone to report his progress but had never mentioned what that progress was. My skin began to prickle as Weiss crossed into the lounge room and out of view. I didn’t want to know.
Backing across the room, I slid open the closet door as silently as I could and stepped inside amongst X’s weapon stash. I couldn’t risk Weiss finding me. There was so much I didn’t know, so many players that had different faces. I couldn’t trust anyone but X.
I closed the door, plunging myself into darkness. Turning, I pressed my palms into the false panel until it clicked. There was a thud from out in the apartment and I bit my bottom lip to stifle a gasp, before shimmying into the crawlspace.
The panel clicked home just as I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. There was evidence that I’d been here all over the place. Clothes, ropes… Fuck, my bag and boots were out there. Weiss would know I’d been here. A bumfuck hick with two brain cells would know I’d been here. I was screwed and if he knew about the crawlspace, I would be up shit creek without a paddle.
I pressed my back against the wall, my heart hammering painfully in my chest. Surely he would hear it and come for me. The panel would fly open and hands would tear me out and take me away from this place. Away from X.
Weiss wasn’t a nice man. Weiss was X’s handler. Weiss would kill me himself if he knew who I was.
If Weiss was here, did that mean he suspected X of hiding something? If he was still refusing to hand me over, then I still had a chance at winning his trust. I could win his heart, I could…
The closet door slid open and I shoved my hand into my mouth and bit into my flesh. A thin piece of ply stood between me and what felt like certain death.
Please don’t find me, please d
on’t find me, please don’t find me...
After a sickening moment, the door slid closed and footsteps left the bedroom. Still terrified, I curled up against the safe, shoving my knees into my T-shirt and burying my face into the material.
What if he knew I was here and was waiting for me to come out? I shivered, my entire body rigid, listening for the moment that he left. A few minutes later, I heard the front door open and close, but I didn’t trust that he wasn’t still out there, so I waited.
I waited so long I think I fell asleep. The darkness lingered and my toes became numb from cold and my stomach cramped from being curled up in a tight ball for hours.
Hiding in the darkness like a scared little child, lacking the ability to pull the trigger...even to save my own life. You’re not a killer Alison Crawford. You’re not a killer Mercy Reid. A name doesn’t change anything. You’re still the same petty coward you were all your life.
A thud brought me back to consciousness and my head snapped upright. The panel clicked and was wrenched to one side, light flooding into the darkness. Blinking hard, I held a hand up to shield my eyes, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Fuck.”
It was a low hiss, but I’d recognize his voice anywhere now. It was encoded deep into my skin and seared into all the dark corners.
“X?” I choked through my terror.
Strong arms reached down for me and I was pulled from the crawlspace. I fell against his chest, clinging to him as he brought me out of the closet and into the bedroom, the sudden light forcing me to squint. I breathed in his scent, trying to commit the feel of his body against mine to memory.
“Do I need to ask what happened?” he murmured, a slight twinge of annoyance in his voice. Somehow I knew it wasn’t directed at me and I tightened my grip.
“Weiss,” I whispered. “He came looking.”
“You hid from Weiss?”
I nodded. “I know what he does. I’m not stupid. If he found me, he would know. He’d take me away from you.”
X ran a hand through my hair and I stiffened slightly at his odd display of softness.