Mercy (Sin City Outlaws #2)

by M. N. Forgy

  “Oh, come on, you must eat.” Tears threaten to spill from my burning eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I hate that he’s trying to be nice, I know it’s fake. Closing my eyes I inhale a staggered breath. I am strong, I am the one with professional training, and a boyfriend who will not stop until I’m found. I can survive this. I will walk away from this.

  Opening my eyes, my brows narrow, determination taking over.

  “Zeek will come for me,” I eventually break my silence.

  Frank’s eyes flick to mine, his face unreadable. “Oh, I hope he does, that’s the plan,” Frank chuckles, confusing me.

  The SUV comes to a stop, and I try my hardest to lift myself up and look out the window. I fail, I can’t see a damn thing.

  “Hey, Cross, grab me a Coke and get a burger for our friend.” Frank demands, ordering the guy in the passenger seat around. Cross…it sounds familiar, but I can’t put a finger on it.

  Minutes pass by and then a hand slaps my thigh and I jolt. “You feeling any better?” Gritting my teeth I try and inch away from him. “Oh, you can’t escape me, little piggy. Learn that now.”

  The doors open and the vehicle dips as Cross and Alfeo climb back inside.

  “One Coke and burger.” Alfeo hands the food to Frank.

  “Here, sit up.” Grabbing onto my cuffs as if they’re a fucking leash, he pulls me closer, and unfolds the wrapper enclosing the burger. The smell of charbroiled meat and warm cheese wafts around me. My tongue suddenly feels too big and my throat pulses with the urge to vomit once more. I swallow, hoping it will pass when my stomach flips upside down.

  A choke-cough rips up my throat. Cross turns in his seat mid bite of his burger and eyes me with a worried look.

  “I think she’s going to get sick again.”

  “Damn it!” Frank leans over and opens my door, his hand sporting gold rings. He pushes my head over the side of the car. I try to hold the puke back, but it has a mind of its own and hot vomit spills from my mouth. Over and over, I puke. I spit, trying to get the taste out of my mouth, but it does nothing to overcome that acidic taste coating my tongue.

  I’m pulled back in, and the door shuts as soon as I’m finished.

  “You sick or something?” Cross asks, turning back in his seat. Using my shoulder I wipe my mouth on my shirt, ignoring his question. It’s just stress.

  “Maybe she’s pregnant,” Alfeo suggests casually, his mouth full of food.

  Frank stills, his eyes widening as he looks my way. “Are you?” A big toothy smile spreads across his face, the physical weight of his stare making me uneasy. My hands instinctively try and shield my lower section as I shake my head. Looking down myself I let the thought sit for a moment. Zeek has pulled out every time since before the trap house, so the chances are slim of me being pregnant. Right? I’m not sure how preventive pulling out really is…

  Frank doesn’t say anything further; he just rubs at his chin as his large creepy eyes look pensive. I scoot closer to the door and look out the window. God, hurry Zeek.

  Grabbing my cuffs Frank suddenly yanks me down into the seat, my head now in his lap. I try to pull away from him, but his grip is strong. His hand brushes the hair from my face tenderly, and eerily.

  “I think you just made everything a whole lot easier,” he whispers. My stomach falls, my head spinning with the twisted shit Frank would say or use against Zeek.

  “I’m not pregnant,” I point out, my words sharp.

  “Guess we’ll find out, hmm? How much longer before we reach the casino?” Frank barks, his cold hand caressing my cheek. My eyes burn with the urge to cry; the touch of softness contradicting this man’s twisted plans for me, making it harder to comprehend the reality of this situation.

  “Couple hours,” Cross answers.

  “Get us there faster.”

  “You got it, boss,” Alfeo obeys, the vehicle picking up speed and accelerating quickly.

  “You think that’s a good idea?” Cross asks, looking over his shoulder.

  “Are you questioning me?” Frank’s hand stills, and so does my heart.

  “No sir,” Cross replies, turning in his seat.

  The vibrating hum of the car, and the way Frank is petting me causes exhaustion to set in like a dead weight. I try to lift myself up, to wake myself up but Frank refuses to let me up. Blinking and yawning, I eventually succumb, and fall into the haziness of a deep sleep.

  Maybe when I wake, it’ll all just be a nightmare.

  A horrible nightmare that Zeek will save me from.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Zeek

  WE HAVE BEEN DRIVING AROUND for hours. We’ve stopped and asked everyone Lip knows if they know anything but we’ve come up short every time. The only place left is the actual sheriff’s office.

  Lip pulls up outside the Department and Parks building.

  “You planning on just going in and asking if they have her?” My tone laced with derision.

  “No, someone will be off shift soon, and we’ll make him tell us.”

  My chest tightens with pride. My pussy brother does have some balls.

  “I like the way you think.”

  Looking back up, some guy carrying a bag of leaves climbs into a black truck.

  “Here we go,” Lip whispers, pulling in behind him.

  As soon as the truck pulls down a deserted street Lip floors it, pulling in front of him and slamming on the brakes.

  Quickly, I get out.

  “What the fuck! Do you know who I am?” the cop yells as he jumps from the vehicle.

  Getting to him before Lip, I grab the fucker by the throat and slam him against the side of his truck so hard I swear his shoulder dents the fender.

  “Do you know who the fuck I am?” I push through gritted teeth.

  “Easy, brother, we’re just getting information, remember?” Looking over my shoulder Lip stands with his arms crossed.

  Exhaling a furious breath, which does nothing to calm me, I ease my grip…some.

  “Did a sheriff bring a blonde female into custody by the name of Jillian McAdams?” I ask, trying to keep my anger in check. It’s not working, my hands are shaking with the need to slam my problems into this asshole’s jaw.

  “No, no blondes, and nobody by that name.” He shakes his head frantically.

  “You know what I’m going to do if you’re fucking lying—”

  “I’m not lying, man, I promise!”

  Looking down I flick his nametag.

  “Well, Tyrese, if I find out you’re lying…I will be back. And my brother here,” I glance at Lip. “He won’t be here to save you next time.”

  Tyrese’s eyes widen, his head mimicking a bobble head. “No, I swear. I’m not lying.”

  Giving him one last push, I step back. Rolling my shoulder to help ease the tension I march back to the SUV and get in.

  Lip follows, putting the car in drive and racing off.

  “He took her to Vegas,” I mutter, my hands flexing.

  “I’ve tried all my contacts, nobody has seen them in town.”

  “I need to get back to the casino, to my club,” I state, staring out the window.

  “I can’t believe you of all people fell for a fucking pig.” My head whips in Lip’s direction.

  “Unless you want to be pushed out of this fucking car, I’d watch the way you talk about her,” my tone threatening and stare icy. He furrows his brows, gripping the steering wheel with his other hand. “She ain’t like that. You don’t know her like I do.”

  “I’m just wondering if some pussy is worth all this, man.” He shakes his head. “Especially a cop’s.”

  “Yeah, well, if memory serves me right I’m pretty sure a certain someone was just as screwed up in the head when his chick was taken from him.” His jaw clenches, eyes that look familiar from when we were kids and he wanted to beat me resurfacing.

  “You had to go there, didn’t you?” Looking down at my knuckles the emotions I felt when I took his girlfr
iend rears up. I was angry, when people are angry they do stupid shit.

  “I wasn’t going to hurt her, I was just trying to get your attention.” I shake my head, looking out the window.

  “I should be killing you for what you’ve done.”

  I lift a brow, a small smirk curling my upper lip. “You could have killed me, but you didn’t.”

  He looks at me quizzically, shifting in his seat nervously. “At your club, you could have shot me in the head and been done with me, but you didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well, I missed my target, I guess.”

  “No, you hit your target perfectly. You shot me where you intended to shoot me.” I look at him, right at the time he looks back at me.

  “What the fuck you getting at?”

  “You didn’t want to kill me.” I smile a big toothy grin, but he isn’t smiling. In fact, he looks fucking pissed.

  He slams on the brakes, turns the car off, and gets out. That’s when I realize we’ve reached the Devil’s Dust club.

  Resting my head on the back of the headrest, fear strikes my chest. What if Cross has Jillian? What if Uncle Frank gave the order to take her out however he saw fit? Shaking my head, I attempt to clear the negative thoughts from my mind.

  Slowly I climb out of the car. I need to find a phone, call my boys back home. See if they’ve heard or seen anything.

  Walking into the club, all of the Devil’s Dust men stop what they’re doing and look at me. All eyes on me, silence filling the club and I get the overwhelming feeling I am not welcome. I don’t blame them, coming here was such a bad fucking idea.

  “I’ll go.” I turn to leave.

  “Wait,” Lip states.

  One hand on the door, I turn my head over my shoulder.

  “You can stay at my place until you figure out your next move.” My brows furrow. Did I hear him right?

  “Brother, what are you doing?” Bull asks, lighting a cigarette casually.

  Lip looks at me, and crosses his arms. The way he takes a deep breath conveying what he’s about to say is hard for him.

  “He’s my brother, he’s family. As much as I hate his ass and want him out of here. I can’t turn my back on family. It’s just as much my fault as it is Zeek’s with what went down. I disrespected his club, and his name. We all know when someone spits on our club colors, it’s open grounds for war.” He runs his hands back and forth through his hair. As much as I don’t want him defending me, he’s right. In our world, if someone disrespects another club’s colors, it’s game fucking on. That’s what happened between us, a fucking war. “Zeek wasn’t here to hurt Tom Cat, he was here for me. I haven’t been the brother I should have been, and I need to fix this. I understand if none of you get that, I do. Cause truthfully, I’m not sure that I fucking get it.” Shaking his head, he looks down. I can tell he doesn’t want to help me, but feels the need to. The club is silent, everyone looking between Lip and me.

  “I get that, son, I do,” Bull adds, blowing smoke into the air.

  “Doesn’t mean I forgive him.” Lip hits me with a hard stare.

  “I can live with that,” I state, turning to face him fully. “You don’t have to do this though, I take full responsibility for what I did. I don’t expect you or any of your men to help me. Coming here…” I run my hands through my hair. “I just didn’t know where else to take Jillian to keep her safe.”

  “I have a friend in Vegas, works as a trooper. I’ll give him a call, see if I can work in a favor.” Bull rubs his chin thoughtfully.

  “I’d appreciate that.” I nod gratefully.

  “I have a bike you can use to get back to Vegas, too, I’ll get the prospect to pull it out,” Lip offers.

  I am taken aback, watching the Devils work together and come up with a solution. And they’re doing it all for Lip. They have his back, regardless if I deserve any of this or not. This is the brotherhood that Lip wanted, what he deserves. Comparing my club to theirs, we lack that kind of loyalty. Hard. If I was Bull, and this was my club I wouldn’t be breathing.

  This is a fucking brotherhood.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jillian

  THE SUV COMES TO A STOP, the doors open and close as Cross and Alfeo get out.

  “Come on, puttana,” Frank snarls his insult as I’m hauled from the car and greeted with the Vegas lights. I’m back home. My eyes squint as I take in the surroundings. It looks to be some kind of private entrance to Sin Casino. A small garage with a private elevator.

  “Move.” Cross shoves me hard toward the door, but my mind is in a whirlwind. Where is Zeek? How long was I in the car for? “I said move!” Cross grips me by the hair, throwing me forward. Resisting, I cup my hands and slam my elbow in his chest. He grunts and snatches me by the hair again, strands snapping at the scalp painfully. Pulling my head back, his lips skim along my ear.

  “You think you’re tough, Kitty? All you’re doing is making my dick hard. I like a bitch who can fight.” He bites my ear and I cry out with pain. “Now fucking MOVE!” He thrusts me into the garage and towards the elevator doors.

  “You’ll learn to stop fighting, my dear.” Frank smiles tightly, one bushy brow raised.

  Stepping into the elevator it smells like Frank, expensive cologne. The floor is carpeted red, and the walls mirrored. The doors shut, and we zip up in such a rush I feel my stomach tickle.

  The elevator dings, and before you know it the doors open to a private suite.

  Floor to ceiling windows line the left side of the entire floor. Red carpet, and white and gold sequined wallpaper line the other walls. There is a black granite countertop and kitchen on the right side, and a small living space facing the windows, made up of plush black couches and chairs.

  “Secure her in one of the bar stools, I’m going to take a piss.” Frank points to a high-back wooden barstool, and walks off into a side room.

  The two men turn toward me and I shrink in fear. Up close they appear much bigger and muscular.

  Alfeo grips my arm and I jerk it back. Using my knee I try and jab it into the back of Cross’s kneecap but he reacts too quickly.

  “Aw, I almost forgot we’re not dealing with just any damsel in distress,” Alfeo chuckles.

  “Yeah, she’s a feisty little bitch.” The way Cross says it, it sounds like Ron James. It’s completely twisted.

  Rage fuels my mind, fear filling my limbs, and I scream loudly. My head pounds with my heartbeat as my face turns beet red. I’m praying someone in another room hears me. Cross reaches out for me, but I side step him, tears trying to fill my eyes.

  “Honey, don’t make this complicated,” Alfeo shakes his head.

  “Fuck you, don’t call me honey.” I pant out of breath. Honey, who the fuck does he think he is?

  “Just fucking grab her, Alfeo!” Frank demands walking back into the room. “Dannazione!”

  Sighing, Alfeo jumps forward and clutches my shoulder. Focused on Alfeo I didn’t even see Cross walk behind me. A sudden kick to my back causing me to fall to my knees. I want to break, I want to fall to the floor and cry my fucking eyes out, feel sorry for myself. But I can’t. If I do, I’m as good as dead. I have to fight, and keep my shit together.

  I’m picked up from the floor and slammed onto the hard stool by Cross just as Frank reenters the room.

  “You got any more tape?” Alfeo asks, picking at the tape for it to lift.

  “Probably not, we’ll just get use Saran Wrap,” Frank dictates.

  “Saran Wrap?”

  “It works when you’re in a tight spot.” Cross smiles sinisterly. I can’t help but remember the scenes my training officer and I came across with evidence of blood, Saran Wrap, and no bodies. I wonder if Cross was behind those too?

  Clear wrap is suddenly wrapped around my body tightly, securing me to the chair. Around and around it constricts my every movement, taking a simple breath is nearly impossible.

  I scream as loud as I can, my throat burning as my voice rips up my throat
. Praying someone from another room of the casino will hear me. It’s my only hope.

  “Shut her the fuck up,” Frank barks.

  Alfeo grabs the wrap, and I close my mouth shut.

  His large fingers dig into my jaw, making me open wide. I whimper with pain, his fingers pressing so hard I swear my jaw is about to crack. Plastic is shoved so far into my mouth I gag. My tongue feeling three times too big as the plastic invasion is shoved into my mouth.

  Alfeo ties it behind my head, and I shift my tongue around trying to adjust to the foreignness of it in my mouth.

  Cross stands in my way, his hand resting on my collarbone.

  “Zeek is going to kill you,” I muffle around the wrap, my chest shaking as I sob beneath the plastic. The little bit of air I’m getting through my nose not nearly enough to satisfy my panicked state. I feel weak, I have no fight left. I’m hopeless tied to this chair, no rescue in sight. Fear is all I have.

  He smiles, like he accepts the challenge. “One of you go get a pregnancy test, and hurry up,” Frank orders from across the room, keeping his hands clean as possible. He’s a coward.

  “Where the fuck am I supposed to get one of those?” Alfeo looks conflicted, like Frank just asked him to find Mars.

  Frank pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “The fucking store, you moron!”

  Cross sits across the room and stares at me. His eyes squinted and dark. I used to think Zeek had a similar look, one that would slither across his face before he hurt or killed someone. I bet he was behind training Zeek, they have similar tactics.

  “Tick tock, tick, tock,” Cross laughs. “In time you’ll find out if you’re harboring your father’s murderer’s baby.”

  ***

  “THAT WAS THE FIFTH WOMAN I killed, she wasn’t very smart,” Cross continues to inform me of how many people he’s killed and how. Trying to ignore him my mind swims of thoughts I could possibly be pregnant, and the path I’ll take for vengeance. What the hell am I going to do if I am? Can Zeek and I have a normal life, and raise a child? Should I abort? What does this mean for my job? How should I kill these assholes?