Mercy (Sin City Outlaws #2)

by M. N. Forgy

  “ON THE FLOOR!” is hollered right under us causing us to freeze. “ON THE FLOOR, ASSHOLE!” Someone else repeats, grabbing both of our attention. We look down and notice there are slits in between the worn wood beneath our feet, giving Jillian and me a small view of what’s going on.

  A guy with dark hair points a gun. Men in SWAT gear throw Bull and the rest of the Devils on the floor hard. Then a deputy walks in, swiping glasses off his face in an arrogant manner. Jillian gasps, her hands slamming across her mouth. Glancing up, her face holds not only fear but…recognition. Like she knows the pig.

  I narrow my brows in question, and she turns her head quickly. Yeah, she knows who that is.

  “It smells like shit in here,” the Deputy says with disgust.

  “That’s just Bull.” The main police officer chuckles, slamming his boot into Bull’s side. Bull grunts, grabbing his ribs.

  “Something I can help you with, Skeeter?” Bull asks from the floor, eyeing the guy who just kicked him.

  “Clear!” Multiple men holler from down the hallway.

  “Oh, I don’t know. You see these two dip shits crawl through here?” Skeeter takes two photos from the Deputy and drops them on the floor, but Bull doesn’t even look at them before answering no.

  “You’re raiding my club for two people who aren’t here?” Bull continues. “How desperate are you?”

  “Word is that pretty one there, who is a Deputy, killed her own father. You know anything about that?” The Deputy, rubs at his face, pointing at the photos

  Bull’s head snaps up, his entire body flexing. Fuck, he knows she’s law enforcement now.

  “I said I don’t know who they are,” Bull grits, laying his head amongst the garbage covering the floor.

  “Right, well, word is her and lover boy were seen here.” Bull doesn’t reply.

  Skeeter hunches down, gripping Bull by the hair to make him look at him. “Let me put it this way, if we find out they were here—and I will know—I am ordered to tear this club down, brick by brick.”

  The Deputy grabs Skeeter by the collar shoving him back like he’s a maggot, before turning around, his hands on his hips.

  “I’m truly sorry about that, he’s just excited. Now where were we? Ah, yes…” He walks over to Lip, and squats down. “If that piece of shit brother of yours turns up here, I advise you to either kick his ass to the curb, or give us a call.” I begin to sweat, nervous Lip will call us out.

  “Fuck you.” Lip turns his head, breaking eye contact. My body sags with relief almost instantly.

  The Deputy grabs Lip by the hair, jerking his head back. My fists clench with the urge to go down and protect him. Why? I don’t fucking know.

  “The only one who will be doing any fucking here will be me. Fucking you in the ass when I bring your entire club in. Do you understand?”

  “Let him go. We don’t know anything, asshole,” Bull adds.

  “Let’s just say, it’s a long way back to Vegas for you, pretty boy.” He leans farther down, and I find myself lowering myself, too, trying to hear him. “And you’ll be sucking my dick all the way back to your uncle’s.” I stiffen, not sure if I heard him right. Being up here, surely I didn’t. I scratch at my chin, replaying it over in my head. If I heard it correctly, then he’s working for my uncle. Fuck, there is no way Jillian and I can leave here with them crawling around the Devil’s Dust now.

  Jillian shifts her foot, the small space we’re crammed in uncomfortable. The boards rattle with her movement, and the Deputy below glances up.

  I hold my breath.

  My heart strikes against my chest.

  Adrenaline pounding in my temples.

  “Anyone check the attic?”

  “Oh, no,” Jillian whispers, looking at me.

  “Don’t panic. Just stay still,” I whisper.

  “No, sir. I don’t think they have one,” another man hollers from the hall.

  “Oh, they have one.”

  Boots thud against the club’s floor, and within minutes they find the trap door.

  Fuck.

  Pulling the gun from my waistband, I pull the chamber back loading a bullet into the chamber.

  “Follow me,” I exhale. We aren’t going out of here without a fight.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jillian

  HE STEPS AHEAD OF ME, my chest rising and falling rapidly as my heart pounds against my chest in fear. Zeek fires his gun at the cop who tries to climb up, and he falls back. I scream. The killer that Zeek is capable of becoming at a moment’s notice rearing up at full force.

  He isn’t going to let them take us without a fight.

  Two more pop up in the hole, and Zeek fires his gun again. One falls back but the other continues forward, attacking Zeek like a football player. They both go through the ceiling, falling to the ground. Zeek struggles with the cop fighting to retrieve the gun. Movement catches my eyes behind me, another cop coming towards me. Grabbing my arm I punch him in the throat, causing him to fall back. Looking for a way to escape I find a small window about ten feet from where I am. Staying on the boards I walk quickly toward the window, hoping there will be something to break my fall once I climb out. As soon as my fingertips touch the windowsill, an arm is wrapped around my neck pulling me backward. Slamming my foot into the person’s knee cap he screams, falling to his ass. Taking my shot, I grip the arm that had hold of me and twist it breaking it with a loud crack.

  Screams of pain ricochet through the attic as I let his arm go and look toward the window. The butt of a gun from another cop comes into my line of sight right before it strikes me in the face, knocking me to the floor.

  “Goddamn, she can fight.” A voice echoes. My head throbs and I feel nauseous. I try to move my arms to fight back, but I’m too disoriented. My body is picked up like it weighs nothing, and I’m thrown over a shoulder. My head bobs as they take me down into the main area of the club. Zeek comes into focus handcuffed to the bar.

  “You fucking let her go!” he demands, he’s practically foaming at the mouth. His face is red, near purple, veins protruding on his forehead. “Take me! My uncle wants me!”

  “Zeek.” I try to yell his name, but it comes out sounding weak and pitiful.

  “I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you if you hurt her.” He yanks hard at the cuffs, and Deputy Orlando Needon chuckles. How did he get here? He’s a scumbag from my department who has been trying to get me into his bed since I started working with him. He’s a prick, and if I believed anyone was dirty in my department, it’d be him.

  “Oh, there will be hurt, there will be lots of pain, Zeeky boy.” Orlando rams the end of his gun into Zeek’s side, making him cough in pain.

  “Stop,” I croak, trying to lift myself from the shoulder I’m on but fail miserably. My world spins with the effort, my surroundings darkening as everything goes black.

  Zeek

  JILLIAN’S LIMP BODY BOBS and jerks as they leave, my wrist bleeding and bruised as I yank and pull on the cuffs attached to the fucking bar. The side of my shirt is soaked with blood from the stitches being torn open, but I could care less about any of the pain. The only thing I feel is the rage and fear growing in my chest. It’s fucking unbearable.

  “JILLIAN!” I scream, hoping she can hear me.

  “Get me out of these fucking cuffs!” I roar, pulling as hard as I can.

  Everyone is still zip tied or handcuffed, they didn’t let any of us loose.

  “Wait, I think I almost got it,” Bobby says, pulling his feet up to his hands. He’s on his belly, his hands and feet zip tied.

  He pulls at his pant leg, and pulls out a knife. He releases his legs with a deep sigh, and starts working on getting his body to roll over so he can sit up. He rocks, bending his knees awkwardly.

  “Come on!” I demand, my eyes flicking between the door and him. I’m never going to know which way they went if he doesn’t hurry the fuck up.

  “Why didn’t they take you, too?” Bull questi
ons.

  “I don’t fucking know,” I huff. Actually I do, but to say it out loud scares the fuck out of me. Frank is using her against me, he has a plan for her.

  “Got it,” he groans as he begins to saw at the restraints. I continue to pull and clank the metal against the pole attached to the bottom of the bar, anchoring it to the floor. Praying the cuff will break, but it doesn’t even dent.

  Bobby gets up and saws at Bull’s zip ties next. I roll my eyes and continue to beat the fuck out of the cuffs against the pole.

  Finally, he has his President free and makes his way over to me, only to be stopped mid-step.

  “Bobby, go get the saw cutter,” Bull orders before making his way over to me and grabbing at the cuffs, stopping me from breaking my goddamn wrist.

  “You snapping your wrist in half ain’t going to do anyone any good. Relax.”

  “You don’t understand what Frank is capable of if he gets to her first.” Shaking my head, I rest it on the bar, and pray to God I can get out of here and find her before she’s turned over to Frank.

  “You mean the pig you brought into my club?” His voice is sharp and pissed off.

  “It’s not like that.” I don’t raise my head, I don’t look at him. I know he won’t understand.

  “Why don’t you try and tell me why you’re running again, and don’t fucking lie. Otherwise, I’ll just let you rot right here.”

  “I went against my brotherhood. I slept with a cop. My club found out and my uncle set me up, made me kill Jillian’s father right in front of her. Then he tried to kill her, and I know he would have tried to kill me, too, so I snatched her and ran.” The room goes silent. The events of what took place replaying in my mind over and over. “None of this is her fault, she’s innocent.”

  Vibration hits the cuffs, causing me to look up and find Bobby sawing at them. Within seconds they snap free.

  Rubbing at my wrist I barrel out of the club, in search of Jillian.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Lip hollers, running after me.

  “To find Jillian.”

  “You can’t do that, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

  “Not like you cared about either of us anyway, you shot me and were throwing us out today. Well, here’s us out. Now fuck off,” I sneer, heading towards the road.

  “And my reaction to you showing up here is my fault? This is all your fault, Zeek, you killed one of my brothers, for Christ’s sake.” I stop, my fists clenched.

  “NO! This is your fault just as much as it is mine. Did it ever occur to you to ever fucking pick up the phone, to call me, to fucking talk to your own brother? No, you ran. You fucking ran with our mother, and left me to decide everything.”

  “Our dad—”

  “You think he was nice to me? You don’t think I didn’t get my ass beat, Lip? I did. If I didn’t hold a gun right, or I said the wrong thing at the wrong time in front of the wrong people I got the shit knocked out of me. Hell, he broke my fucking wrist one time because he lost a bet that I could outshoot another club’s president’s son.” I eye him from head to toe, his look of surprise not lost on me. “I know you thought I had it better, but I didn’t, not by a long shot. Only difference was you had Mom behind you, I had nobody.”

  Lip’s eyes widen, his mouth parting.

  “Yeah, but Tom Cat’s—”

  “It’s easy for you to place blame, when all you did was run away from your problems, Lip. All I wanted was my brother when I needed him most; you denied me. You were disrespectful, and wouldn’t give me a chance. I took your bitch because I knew it was the only way to get your attention and then shit got out of hand—” I throw my hand at him, done with this shit. “It doesn’t fucking matter. It doesn’t change anything.”

  I double my steps, looking up the road for a car to jack.

  Stepping up to a yellow Neon I yank on the handle.

  “I didn’t know Dad did those things, that he beat—”

  “Doesn’t matter, Lip.” I kick the door and it pops open. Neon’s are the easiest to break into.

  “Think Frank will really hurt her if he gets to her?”

  I nod, saying the words hurts too much.

  “Come on, we can take the club’s SUV.”

  Furrowing my brows I look at him in confusion, wondering why he would help me and what his motives really are.

  “I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for her.”

  Jillian

  I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING. My hands are handcuffed behind me causing all my weight to rest on my shoulder painfully.

  As soon as we made it outside two men climbed out of an SUV. One covered my head with a black pillowcase while the other handcuffed me. I was then tossed into the back seat.

  My breath bursts in and out in heavy pants making the fabric of the pillow case suction to my nose. It’s so hard to breathe, but I continue to take in as much air as my lungs will allow.

  “Thanks for the delivery.” An unfamiliar male’s voice sounds from outside the car.

  “Where is my cut?” Deputy Needon asks. The door to the SUV shuts, and I can’t hear the conversation any further.

  Shifting in the back seat, my head bumps against something warm, like a leg. A door to the front of the car shuts, and the SUV is put into gear.

  “Back to the casino, Cross.” A man’s voice from beside me orders. A warm hand brushes the hair from my neck. I jerk away, and a maniacal laugh fills the car.

  “You have good instinct to be afraid of me, little piggy.” The leg my head was resting against shifts, and a warm breath sweeps across my neck. My stomach falls, an uncontrollable shakiness in my limbs from being scared. “I kill pigs, not fuck them.” The man’s voice holds a thick Italian accent to it, the smell of strong cologne suffocating even with the bag on my head. A small whimper trembles from my lips at his threat.

  Closing my eyes, my skin races with fear. My heart pounding in a slow pace as I try to take in everything around me. This is Frank.

  I was trained to be brave. I was conditioned to be a hero and rely on the justice system. But I feel none of those things right now. Right now, I’m terrified, I’m scared, and I am hoping that Zeek comes and kills every one of these assholes.

  The car turns, and I slide into the leg more. Suddenly nauseated, my stomach turns. I retch as my throat pulses with the warning I’m about to puke.

  “I’m going to get sick,” I warn, trying to sit up.

  “Don’t you fucking puke on me!” Frank orders, shoving my head away from him. The car comes to a screeching halt, nearly throwing me into the floorboard.

  The bag is pulled from my head, the light blinding me, as my door is yanked opened. I don’t even see who opens it as I’m kicked from the car so quickly. My back stings where a foot was just slammed, as my body lands on the side of the road with a thud. Vomit races a flaming path up my throat and expels itself onto the side of the road. My stomach clenches, my throat burning, until my stomach empties completely.

  Panting, I still to see if I’m done. Trying to buy myself some time, I spit and cough hoping Zeek will show up on a bright and shiny motorcycle to save the day. My vision is blurry from my eyes watering as I look under the SUV toward the road, but there isn’t any sign of a motorcycle, or any car for that matter. No Zeek.

  “Are you finished?” Whipping my head to Frank, I see him for the very first time. He has black hair that’s wavy and rests on his shoulders, his eyes dark, and large. He’s wearing a nice suit with a red tie. I’m not sure who he’s trying to fool. He looks like a criminal even under that expensive looking suit. “Fuck you,” I rasp, my voice hoarse from puking.

  He scrunches his lips and snaps his fingers. The passenger side of the SUV opens, and a man with black slacks and a white button up shirt gets out. He’s short and stocky, black hair slicked back with tattoos up his neck.

  “Put her nasty ass back in the car.” He grabs the metal linking my cuffs and hauls me up, throwing me face firs
t back into the car. Frank grips the back of my neck harshly, and I grit my teeth to keep from whimpering. “You want to fuck me, piggy? If you’re willing, then you’re not my type, sweetheart.” He shoves me against the door, before releasing his hold on my neck. Sweat barrels up my spine, my chest rising and falling swiftly as I watch him from the side of my eye. I’m not going to lie, I’m scared to death that today is the day I die.

  His eyes slowly meet mine, a serious expression fitting his face.

  “There it is,” he smiles.

  “What?” I snide.

  He leans in, a Joker smile stretching across his face and any training, any bravery that was hiding in the pit of my stomach coils up my throat expelling in a whimper. “The fear!” The look on his face alone shows how insane Frank really is.

  “Um boss, we’ve been driving around all day, can we get some food before we hit the road?” A voice from in the front asks.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Alfeo?” Frank waves his hand around angrily.

  Alfeo, I close my eyes trying to program that name into memory.

  “We have been driving around all day, waiting for that fucking Deputy Skeeter to get his head out of his ass and help us. Who knew a fucking transfer from Vegas to here would be so complicated. Besides, I need to refuel,” Alfeo explains. I close my eyes, and take a steady breath. That is why Deputy Needon was at the club. He’s dirty, and works for Sin City Outlaws. To get leverage here in LA, Frank had him transferred.

  “Fine. Get food, then we need to get back on the road.” Frank’s brow raises. “Make it quick.” Looking over the seat I notice Alfeo has a bigger build, and when he leans forward he’s sporting a black ponytail.

  “You hungry, piggy?” Frank nudges my leg. Snapping me from assessing Alfeo. I turn and glare at Frank. “You must be hungry.” A genuine smile crosses his face, and I swear to God it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. The look on his face alone shows how insane Frank really is.

  I think I prefer the Joker smile.

  I don’t reply, I continue to look at the back of the seat.