by Jami Gray
‘Oh goody, Havoc’s back.’ Vex took a drink, keeping her body relaxed even as she mentally braced for the approaching storm.
The moron who grabbed Vex stumbled into Havoc’s path. A look passed between Mercy and Havoc. Without pausing, Havoc introduced the road rat’s head to a support timber. He slumped to the floor and stayed down.
Mercy gave an appreciative hum.
Vex rolled her eyes, stifling a beleaguered sigh.
Havoc closed in, grabbed a nearby empty chair and dragged it over to Mercy’s other side before dropping into it. ‘I leave you two alone for what? Fifteen minutes?’ He draped an arm over Mercy’s shoulders, and snagged her beer. ‘That’s got to be a record.’
Vex leaned forward so she could see him around Mercy. ‘Did you not notice we are sitting right here, enjoying our drinks?’ She wiggled her bottle as evidence. ‘Just minding our own business. Why would you think we had anything to do with it?’
‘No “we” here,’ Mercy corrected with mock innocence, throwing Vex under the proverbial bus, as she leaned into Havoc’s shoulder.
‘Traitor,’ Vex muttered, squashing her niggle of jealousy at the couple’s obvious ease. Simon’s words rang in her ears. Love you, Vex, but I can’t keep hitting my head against that wall around your heart. If I haven’t even made a dent in it by now, I’m never going to.’ So, he gave up on her. Story of her damn life.
‘What a shocker.’ Havoc’s voice dragged her back from her pity party. She looked over, met his raised brow and pointed stare as he took another drink, then handed the bottle back to Mercy. ‘Seeing as Reaper’s in a pissy mood, if Derek hits him up for repairs, it’s your ass, Vex.’
‘Isn’t it always,’ she shot back, an unusual bitter bite in her voice. It bothered her to hear it, so she shoved up from her chair. ‘Time to call it a night.’
Havoc frowned and Mercy’s humour disappeared. ‘Vex—’
‘Look,’ she cut the other woman off, not wanting to deal with it. ‘I’m just in a shitty mood. I’m going to drink my beer and head out. I’ll see you two tomorrow, yeah?’
‘Vex.’ This time it was Havoc using her name, packing a world of questions and offers in one syllable.
She stilled and met his concerned gaze. It wasn’t easy. Other than her twin brother, Ruin, Havoc was one of the few males in her life she hated to disappoint. Something she seemed to be doing on a regular basis lately. Tight bands wrapped around her chest and she cleared her throat. ‘Just need some alone time, get my head on straight. That’s all.’
He studied her for what felt like forever before his slow nod released the chains on her feet. She didn’t waste time turning away. Crossing the floor, she threw back the rest of her beer, left the empty bottle on the bar’s top, and headed into the freedom of the night.
***
Pulling under the protective overhang, Vex shut off her bike and eased it into position next to Reaper’s metal darling. She sat there, feet braced against the ground, listening to the engine’s rumble fade, fighting to get Mercy’s words out of her head. ‘Traditional reaction is hurt … I hear relief.’
Here, in the dark, with no-one around, Vex could admit what she wouldn’t dare at the bar. Mercy was right, and didn’t that make Vex a total bitch? Whining about Simon giving up on her, even though his rejection felt more like a reprieve than the end of a possibility.
With a soft curse, she got off her bike. She stood there in the shadows staring at the softly lit entrance of Grave Hall, her stomach churning, her emotions scattered to hell and back. If she walked in there and ran into Reaper, the eagle-eyed bastard would know her shit was a mess. Well, more than normal. And, pushy ass that he was, he’d make her spill, whether she wanted to or not. And she certainly did not.
If luck was paying attention, she’d make it to her room without being spotted. Unfortunately, sleep was the last thing she wanted. Her chaotic emotions still churned and with no fight at the bar, she needed a release. Maybe she’d see what the streets could offer by way of distractions.
It didn’t take her but ten minutes to leave the illusionary safety of the town’s centre behind and find the narrow paths twisting through the more questionable areas. Like most of the larger trading towns, Pebble Creek was built on the bones of what used to be. In this case, the bones belonged to a university town in southern Idaho.
In the aftermath of economic collapse, pandemic rampages, and Mother Nature reclaiming her lands, the former United States became a mishmash of territories and swaths of wild, brutal lands dotted with battle-scarred remnants of civilisation. Surrounded by the massive Lolo forest and the treacherous terrain of Yellowstone, Pebble Creek was situated in a natural, narrow valley making it a virtual stronghold. It served as the nerve centre of the Central Territories, which stretched from Idaho through Utah and into northern Arizona. It also played a critical role controlling the trade routes connecting the Pacific coast’s Northwest Territories to the Rocky Mountain region spanning Colorado and the unclaimed areas of New Mexico and Texas. Not to mention, it guarded the straight-shot route to the Northland border. Just like the Tipsy Shrew, it was all about location.
And speaking of location … a muffled grunt and stifled laughter had Vex turning down a narrow alley tucked in between two shadowed buildings. Moonlight spilled down graffiti-covered brick and inched towards a knot of darkness gathered near the alley’s back wall. A rock rolled under her boot and bounced off a discarded bottle.
The resulting noise echoed with a startling abruptness. The knot at the end shifted, broke into three figures, and that fast, she found the distraction she’d been looking for. Stepping into the moon’s path, the largest one waved the other two back to whatever unfortunate soul snagged their attention. Shadows fell back revealing a bulky frame encased in layers of chains and leather.
‘Whatcha starin’ at, bitch?’ He swaggered towards her, shaking drops of blood from his fist before flexing his fingers. Ink snaked down thick arms and moonlight sparked off the rings covering torn knuckles. Unfortunately, the pitiful beard trying to crawl off his weak chin cancelled out his aura of menace.
She sauntered forward a few more steps and picked her spot, raking her gaze from the top of his spiked out hair to his dust-covered boots. Recognising him as one of the rats belonging to a roaming road gang, she let her lip curl. ‘Still trying to figure it out. Do I get three guesses?’ She clapped her hands with obvious fake excitement. ‘I know, you’re prick one, and those two hanging back are prick two and prick three, right?’
A sneer curled his lips. He angled his head over his shoulder without taking his eyes off of her. ‘Look, boys, seems we have ourselves a real comedian.’ He dragged out all four syllables and ended it by hurling a wad of spit off to the side.
Classy.
‘How ‘bout we get three tries to fill your smart mouth with our pricks?’ Snickers and ribald suggestions came from the alley’s shadows.
Giving a mental yippee on low intelligence-high bullshit factors, fierce satisfaction swept through her, setting her nerve endings alight with anticipation. She folded her arms under her breasts, her hands finding the hilts of two blades tucked along her ribs. Palming both as she shook her head, she dropped her hands, keeping the blades hidden along the inside of her wrists. A wealth of sugary sweetness saturated her voice. ‘Oh, honey, even if all three of you managed to get them in, which I’m going to guess is way beyond your skill level, they’d hardly make a bite.’ To sink her point home, she snapped her teeth in an unmistakable threat.
It took a few seconds for her implication to penetrate the dense air inside his skull, but she caught the moment it finally made landfall. Blood rushed through his face, his hands curled into fists and then, fragile male ego bruised, he charged.
His decision caught his two sidekicks off guard, so they were slow to respond, giving her enough time to send both blades spinning through the night. Satisfaction swelled when twin pained yelps indicated hits, even as she dodged the lead d
umbass’s reaching arms and managed to sink her fist into his gut. The impact left her hand momentarily numb, but it doubled him over and his knees hit the ground. She went to follow up with a knee to his face, only to be stopped when he nailed her inner thigh with a bruising punch.
Motherfucker! Those damn rings hurt.
Pain seared through her, edging her vision in red. Returning the favour, she doubled her fists and swung at the nearest target, which just happened to be his temple. She didn’t even pause before pivoting to lash out with her boot, catching him under his pathetic beard. Her kick laid his ass out, his skull bouncing off the pavement. Just to be sure he stayed down, she sank a quick double kick into his ribs, the dull thunk of impact blending with his groans bringing welcomed music to her ears.
A blur of movement and a cut off yelp, spun her around in time to watch one of the two backup dicks stumble back, hands clutching his stomach. He hit the alley wall and slowly slid down. By the time his ass hit the ground, it was clear he wouldn’t be going anywhere. The hilt of her knife stuck out of the red ruin of his gut.
Frowning, she stepped over the groaning and dazed dumbass at her feet to the gutless wonder. No way her simple throw resulted in that type of damage. She was within reach when something slammed into her, knocking her off centre. Her hand shot out to the rough brick, avoiding a nasty face plant in Gutless Wonder’s lap. Managing an awkward dance over his outstretched legs, she ended up with her back against the wall in time to watch the last of the trio haul ass, holding his arm awkwardly.
Oh hell no! ‘Hey, dumbass, I want my knife back!’ Pushing off the wall, she stood in the centre of the alley as he hit the entrance and disappeared. ‘Dammit.’ Replacing that blade was going to cost her.
‘Looking for this?’
The deep voice hit her spine, then coiled around it in a hair-raising grip. She turned. A bit of darkness peeled from the wall and moved towards her with a stiff gait, the form slowly uncurling from a slouch. Moonlight glinted off the extended metal of her blade and revealed an arm attached to a figure. Moving out of the night’s hold, he stepped forward, his other arm wrapped around his ribs. Looked like the trio’s unfortunate target found his feet and her knife.
She closed the distance between them, careful to stay out of reach but forcing him to move further into the light so she could see who she was dealing with. He obliged her, taking another step forward. Faint though it was, moonlight fell over him.
Shock locked every muscle and swept her curiosity aside. Despite the obvious signs of violence decorating his face, those chiselled features framed by midnight hair and a matching dark goatee was disturbingly familiar. ‘Who the hell are you?’
Chapter 3
Standing there beaten to hell and back, Math blinked away the stinging blood seeping into his swollen eye. There was an annoying ringing echoing through his skull. Once his vision cleared, he caught sight of the woman standing in front of him. A whisper of instinct turned into a maliciously gleeful howl, leaving him silently cursing his spectacularly bad luck. Of all the people to hit this reeking alley, it had to be this particular woman. Someone up there had it out for him. Holding her blade out made his abused muscles scream, so he lifted it a few inches. Fire ripped through his ribs at the small move. He stifled his groan. Great, one of the assholes managed to damage a rib. Not like it took much considering. ‘You going to take this? If not, I’m happy to keep it.’
That earned him a growl and she closed in, the movement smooth and fast. ‘Give me that.’ Her hand blurred as she snatched it out of his hand, making him wonder if one of the hits left him with a concussion. Probably.
She took her time tucking it away, even as her gaze roamed over him. The light was for shit, but this close he couldn’t miss the long, leather-clad legs, or the metal chains draping the provocative curves standing impatiently in front of him. ‘Going to give me a name?’
He forced his gaze up to the arresting face currently frowning at him. A tumble of thin, beaded braids mixed with long, streaked strands of light and dark. Standing so close, he caught the edge of her lethal vibe like an impending lightning storm. He knew full well he was about to poke a snake with a stick, but some things couldn’t be helped. ‘I’m considering it.’
Dark brows lifted over a stunning mix of curious gold and brown. ‘Might want to decide before you hit the ground, that way I know what name to put on your grave marker, hot shot.’
The laugh that tried to escape emerged on a huffed breath, courtesy of his damaged ribs. ‘Yeah, you may want to hold off on that happy thought.’
‘Sure about that?’
Yeah, he was. ‘It’s been a bad week.’ An understatement of the year. Normally, dealing with three assholes who decided jumping him constituted an entertaining evening, would be a piece of cake. Dealing with them two days after enduring the sadistic tendencies of Greer’s men told an altogether different story. He went to straighten so he could take a deeper breath, only to have the alley slide sideways in a sickening lurch.
It was safe to say his body had hit its limit.
Before it could take him down, she was there, one arm wrapped around his waist, her shoulder under his, keeping the world from slipping out from under his feet. Thankfully, she was tall enough to offset his six-foot-one frame. ‘Right. We need to get you some medical help.’
Despite his spinning head, he managed to shake it. Nausea threatened and he swallowed it down. ‘You can’t, I’ve got eyes looking for me.’ If they weren’t already looking, they would be once they found the bodies of the mercenaries he left rotting in the ditch on his way here.
A soft snort sounded next to his ear. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ She didn’t wait for a response. ‘Don’t worry, hot shot, I’ll keep you under the radar.’
He managed to shift his face until he could see her profile, surprised to find it so close. ‘I appreciate it.’ He barely got the words out around his thick tongue.
Long, thick lashes lifted and her amber gaze hit his and hardened. ‘You fucking pass out on me and I’m leaving your ass to rot, hear?’
‘Roger that.’ He dropped his gaze to his boots, concentrating on moving his feet as she led him out of the alley. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, so he did what he did best—he shoved the pain into a box and stuffed it in a corner.
While his body went on autopilot, his sluggish mind churned. It wouldn’t be long before Greer’s trackers would be on his ass. For the last few weeks he’d made his presence known by ensuring one of her questionable shipments destined for an urban centre didn’t make its final destination.
In the overall scheme of things, its loss was no more than a nuisance for Greer. For Math, it represented a declaration of war that soothed the ragged edge of his hunger for revenge. At least until he walked into that damn trap. Cam’s capture changed everything, leaving him with limited options. Options that involved recruiting Fate’s Vultures. One of whom would not welcome his presence for any reason. None of them would be pleased with the wolves Math brought to their door, or his proposal that would guarantee a new level of discord. Imagining that response filled him with grim amusement.
‘What kind of eyes you got on you, hot shot?’
Her question dragged him out of his head. ‘The dangerous kind.’
‘Not telling me much.’
There was a reason, but he was having trouble maneuvering around it. ‘It’s better I don’t.’
‘Better you do.’
She turned that amber gaze on him, leaving him feeling cornered. ‘Hired guns out of New Seattle.’
The arm around his waist tightened, and the extra pressure shoved a hard breath loose. Instantly, it relaxed. ‘That explains the looky-loos at the bar,’ she muttered.
‘Looky-loos?’ he managed to ask as they made their way through the darkened streets. She navigated the narrow spaces in between buildings with an ease of familiarity, being careful to keep them to the heavier shadows.
A few feet ahead a door whi
pped open, releasing a burst of rough laughter and conversation on a cloud of smoke and light. Pungent spices drifted towards them, indicating a smoke shop. None too gently, she shoved him up against the side of the building and plastered her body against his, blocking his view.
Instinct had his hands latching on to her waist for balance. Her hair filled his vision as the warmth of her sank into his cooled skin. The unexpected move left him unprepared for the bombardment of heat and curves, which brought a singular point of his anatomy to attention, despite his body’s aches and pains. ‘What the f—’
‘Shh!’ It came out on a hiss, but her focus stayed to his left. Despite his hold, she shifted against him, her mouth near his ear while her arms curled around his neck. ‘Try and act interested.’
Interested? If he was any more interested, he might hurt himself. Okay, hurt himself more. Struggling to regain his focus, he gritted his teeth and attempted to ignore the faint scent of rain-washed sage rising from her. He slid one hand down to her hip and adjusted their positions to something less tempting, managing to find a whisper of space.
Down the way, two figures stumbled away.
Unable to ignore the tendrils of her hair caught on his goatee, he inhaled deeply to blow them away. The pain in his side brought him back to his senses.
When the figures hit the end of the street, she uncurled her arms and stepped back. It took him a second to let her go. She stood inches away, her gaze on his. ‘Name.’
Taking her abrupt order for the end of her patience, he gave it. ‘Math.’
Her body stilled with a peculiar tension. ‘Mercy’s Math?’ At his nod, she shifted her gaze down the now deserted street. ‘Well, damn.’ Her attention came back to him. ‘She expecting you?’