Merciless King: A Lawless Kings Novel

by Gray, Sherilee

  Someone knocked at the door and she stirred. I quickly strode over, checked who it was, and pulled the door open. One of the doormen for the building stood there, holding a bunch of red roses.

  I frowned. “What’s this?”

  “These were left for you yesterday, or I should say for Miss Rivera. Apologies, I meant to bring them up last night but completely forgot.”

  “It’s fine.” I took them off him and shut the door. If they were from Connor, I was going to hunt him down and shoot him.

  When I walked back in, London was sitting up, face flushed, the cheek she’d been sleeping on pinker than the other. She looked all rumpled and soft and beautiful.

  She frowned when she saw the flowers. “What are those doing here?”

  “They were delivered yesterday. My doorman just brought them up.”

  She shook her head and stood. “No. What are those flowers doing here? I made up that arrangement myself. Erin had them delivered while I was at lunch.”

  She started toward me, but I held up a hand for her to stop. I carried them to the kitchen, dumping the dark red roses into the sink, and pulled off the card attached.

  Red for love

  Red for wrath

  Red for power and sacrifice

  Red for blood

  Soon x.

  My anger spiked, fucking shot so high I was close to putting my fist through one of the cabinets. “Would Erin have read the card before she sent it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

  “Not always. It feels intrusive, you know? We glance at them when we print them off, but if it was busy, she might not have. Why?”

  I shoved the card in my pocket. “London—”

  “They’re from him, aren’t they?” she said behind me. “He wants me to know I can’t hide from him, that he knows where I am.”

  Fuck. I turned to her, closing the distance between us, took her shoulders in my hands, making her look at me, and told her the truth. A truth that would more than likely scare her, but I was hoping for the opposite. “You need to know that there is nothing—nothing—I won’t do to protect you from him. You understand me?”

  She nodded mutely.

  “I’m not leaving your side, and if he’s stupid enough to come anywhere near you, he’s not walking away. He’ll be carted away in a body bag. I won’t hesitate. I see him, he’s dead. That’s a promise, London.”

  She didn’t shrink away from me in horror. No, she wrapped her arms around me, clinging to me, and buried her face against my chest.

  “This will end, London. I’m going to end it.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  “I want her out of this psycho’s reach,” I said.

  Hunter stood, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. “The cabin.”

  Raul Esposito, a man who was more of a father to Hunter and me than the drunk, abusive asshole we’d lived with, had a cabin a couple of hours out of the city.

  Zeke nodded. “Take my car. I’ll leave in yours.”

  If this guy was out there watching, he’d follow Zeke, giving me a chance to get London out of the city and to safety.

  “As soon as we have something we’ll let you know,” Hunter said.

  My brother knew me well enough to know I’d want to be the one to take this fucker down.

  We were standing in the kitchen, and I glanced up when London walked in from the living room. She looked a lot better than she had earlier, but still pale, worry still marring her beautiful face. It was getting late and she looked tired as hell.

  Some color came back when she took in the three of us. Christ, I wanted to kiss her.

  “Sorry, I…” She took a glass from the cupboard. “I’m going to head to bed. I just needed some water.”

  I tagged her shirt as she walked by, stopping her. “I know you’re tired, London, but I’m going to need you to pack a bag.”

  She was silent several beats. “You’re sending me away?”

  I obviously hadn’t done a good job of convincing her that I wasn’t leaving her side, if that was her first thought. “I’m taking you away. A family cabin.” I slid my hand up her back, to the nape of her neck, and massaged gently. “I want to get you out of the city for a few days, until we know more.”

  Her relief was obvious. I liked it a whole hell of a lot.

  “We’re leaving tonight?”

  “We’ll head out as soon as you’re packed.”

  “Okay,” she said, the pulse at the base of her throat fluttering madly. “I’ll go get a few things together.”

  I watched her go, knowing what I said to her earlier was the absolute truth. I hadn’t tried to sugarcoat it. London had been the victim of a twisted mind, horrific violence, had stared into the eyes of pure evil before she was viciously stabbed and almost killed. The way I saw it, for her to feel safe with me, she needed to know I would do whatever was necessary to protect her, that I could dish out the kind of violence needed without a second thought. And I would.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was throwing a bag for each of us in the trunk of Zeke’s SUV while London climbed in beside me. We watched Zeke drive out in mine. He was going to drive around a while, and if he was followed, Hunter would return the favor and take the fucker down. Not ideal, since I wanted to do that myself, but getting the sick fuck off the street and in a cell—or better yet, in the ground—was my main priority.

  We headed out a short time later. I drove around for a while as well, making sure no one was tailing us, then headed out of the city.

  London stared out the window, fingers curled tight in her lap. She’d texted Erin, explaining she was going away and that the store would need to be closed for a few days. Since then she’d been quiet. What the hell was she thinking?

  “Try and get some rest,” I said to her.

  She nodded, leaned back against the seat, and closed her eyes.

  It was a long time before her breathing evened out and she finally fell asleep.

  * * *

  London

  I woke in a room I didn’t recognize.

  There were chintz curtains at the windows and the bed I was in was slatted rustic wood with a floral quilt. I was still in my shirt, but my jeans and shoes had been taken off. I looked back at the window, and light streamed in underneath.

  I realized I’d gone another night without a nightmare. I hadn’t had one since my second night in Van’s bed. No flashbacks either. I had Van to thank for that.

  The last thing I remembered was him telling me to rest. He must have carried me inside and put me to bed. My belly flipped around a bit at that. Van didn’t seem to have any problem with my curves. He certainly didn’t seem to think I was too heavy to carry since he’d done it now several times.

  In my whole life, I’d never met anyone like him. My father had been a tough guy who had been in the navy for as long as I could remember. He’d had this quiet, stoic way about him that Van possessed as well, and I liked that. It made me feel safe.

  But I’d never met anyone else like Van King. He was intense, hard, possibly even ruthless in a lot of ways. I knew from before, from conversations we’d had while I was in the hospital that he’d been in the navy as well, a SEAL. Maybe that was why I recognized his demeanor. My father had been the same. But that’s where the similarities began and ended.

  “I’m not leaving your side, and if he’s stupid enough to come anywhere near you, he’s not walking away. He’ll be carted away in a body bag. I won’t hesitate. I see him, he’s dead. That’s a promise, London.”

  His words of the previous day echoed through my mind. He’d killed a man for me before, and he would again. Maybe that should make me uneasy or frightened, that he was capable of that. But it didn’t. Knowing the lengths Van would go to for me only made me…love him more than I already did. He made me feel incredibly safe. I was safe with him.

  There was no denying it anymore, not to myself. I’d been in love with him since I woke
in the hospital close to two years ago and found him standing in my room, expression pensive, body rigid, eyes intense.

  I’d never felt safer then, just like I did now.

  Now he’d taken me out of the city, shielding me, protecting me. Throwing his own wants and needs out the window. Putting his life on hold for me.

  How could I not be hopelessly in love with someone who selflessly gave like that? Van didn’t owe me one single thing, yet here I was, in this cabin, far from any danger that might touch me, because once again Van had put me first.

  I knew he didn’t want anything more than short term with me, and yeah, I wished that wasn’t the case, but I would take whatever he gave me and relish every moment. I owed him the best of me, and I owed it to myself to give us both that. I’d do whatever it took, push myself out of my comfort zone to make the most of my time with him. There wouldn’t be a do-over. This was it, right here, right now. I didn’t want to walk away at the end of this with regrets. Not this time.

  I heard a noise from the other room. I threw back the covers, found my jeans on a chair by the door, pulled them on, and walked down the short hall to the living room. There was a big comfy couch, the fabric floral, and a lot of worn rustic furniture.

  I found Van in the kitchen. He was standing at the oven. His back was to me and he was flipping pancakes. His long legs were encased in their usual denim and he was wearing a long-sleeved black Henley that clung to his powerful chest and arms.

  “Take a seat, baby. These are nearly done,” he said without even turning around.

  I loved when he called me that. I sat at the recycled timber table and watched as he moved around the kitchen. He seemed more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. He stacked a few pancakes on a plate and sat it in front of me, along with some syrup.

  “Where did all this come from?”

  “Picked up supplies on the way,” he said, sitting down to join me. “I let you sleep.” His lips curled up in a grin.

  It was a really nice grin, one that made me squirm in my seat, but it was knowing. Had my mouth been hanging open while I slept? I envisioned myself sitting beside him with my head at a weird angle, drooling. I blushed.

  “You carried me in?”

  He nodded and started eating. I did the same after adding some syrup.

  I took a bite of mine. So good. “Whose cabin is this?”

  “A man named Raul. He’s like a father to Hunter and me. We’d come here with him when we were teenagers and fish, hike. When Raul thought we needed an attitude adjustment, or in his words, needed to get our heads out of our asses, he brought us here.” Van grinned again. “We came here a lot.”

  I laughed. “I can tell you like it here.”

  “Yeah?” His head tilted to the side.

  “You seem…different.” When he just stared at me, waiting for me to elaborate, I added, “Um, less intense.”

  He didn’t comment, his eyes moving over my face, down to my lips. I licked them, assuming there was food on them, and Van made a rough sound.

  Okay, no, maybe not less intense. I was starting to think that was impossible.

  “Will Connor be able to reach me here if he has news about the case?”

  Something flickered though Van’s eyes. “Yeah, I called him when we got here last night. He knows how to reach me.”

  Going by the edge to his voice, Connor wasn’t a subject he was in the mood to discuss. We finished our breakfast, and I took the plates up to the sink and rinsed them off.

  Van’s chair scraped and his boots thumped on the floor. “Leave those.”

  I turned. He was still in his chair, but it was out from the table and he was angled toward me, watching me.

  “Come here,” he said softly.

  I moved to him instantly, like there was a gravitational pull dragging me closer. When I reached him, he tugged me forward, pulling me onto his lap, and stared into my eyes. “Morning,” he muttered then slid his hand into my hair. He kissed me slow and deep, and like all things Van King, it was intense.

  Mmm. He tasted like maple syrup.

  He lifted his head and kissed along my jaw. “I think I might go back to bed,” he said against my ear.

  I shivered. “Are you tired?” I somehow missed what he was saying, God knew how, when he was nibbling and suckling the skin below my ear. But it was only for a moment, because when he pulled back, his intent was written all over his handsome face.

  “No,” he said.

  “Oh.”

  Van chuckled and stood, lifting me with him, and strode to the bedroom.

  12

  London

  I watched in awe as Van flipped to his back and his long, thick fingers rolled a condom down his hard cock. His abs were tight, every muscle bunching and rolling while he worked it onto the impressive length jutting from his fighter’s body.

  As soon as he was done, his hungry gaze lifted to me and he crooked a finger.

  I was naked, my body, my scars, on full display, and doing my best not to be self-conscious about it. It was easier than I thought with Van looking at me like that, like I was the sexiest, most desirable woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

  “Climb on, baby.”

  I took in his beautiful big body stretched out on the mattress and shivered. I wanted nothing more than to “climb on” but I was still new at this whole sex thing. What if I embarrassed myself or did something wrong?

  No regrets. No holding back.

  “You trying to torture me over here?” he said, voice strained. His gaze fixed on my breasts then slid down to the apex of my thighs.

  I shivered again, so hot and achy I thought if I squeezed my thighs together again I might actually come. I crawled over and straddled his hips. I knew my face was on fire, but I wanted to do this, share this with him. “I’ve never done this before—been on top, I mean. How do I…”

  “Take me inside this sweet-as-fuck little body of yours and move, London. That’s it. Do what feels good. I guarantee I’m going to like whatever you do.”

  His hand slid down between us and he fisted his cock, the head pressing against my entrance. I nodded and, resting my hands on his chest, slowly sank down, gasping as he stretched me wider, filling me. I sank down a little, inch by slow inch. I’d had him inside me before, but in this position I needed to keep pausing to allow myself to adjust before taking more of him.

  My lips parted, breath escaping in a rush when I took another inch inside me. It didn’t hurt, but it was a lot and I wasn’t sure what to do with the overwhelming sensations bombarding me.

  Van massaged my hips, eyes glittering and so hot I felt scorched from them.

  I eased down more until I had all of him inside me.

  Van was panting, color slashing his sharp cheekbones. “Fuck,” he bit out. “You feel so good, London. Now roll your hips. Move them however it feels good. Use me to get yourself off.”

  While he was still planted deep inside me, I swiveled my hips experimentally and moaned. “That felt…” I did it again. “Oh yeah, that feels nice.” Very nice.

  Van hissed, his hands still on my hips, fingers gripping my flesh. “Yeah, it does. Keep going, sweetheart.”

  I started to roll my hips so I could feel the length of his cock moving inside me. Yep, what I was feeling went from very nice to amazing in minutes.

  I planted my hands more firmly on his chest and rolled my hips deeper. Oh yeah, the heavy weight of his cock moving inside me felt fantastic. I wanted more so I increased my pace.

  In minutes the shyness had evaporated. All I cared about was the pleasure I was feeling. I leaned forward a little more and moaned when my clit ground against the base of Van’s cock, giving it the friction it needed. And when I tilted my hips a little more, the head of his cock found that place inside me that had me gasping for breath.

  Now I was feeling it inside and out and I started moving faster, more urgently, grinding against him, my orgasm rushing up on me.

  The sounds of our bodies slap
ping filled the room. I was wet, so wet if I wasn’t on the verge of the best orgasm of my life I might even have been embarrassed about it. Right then I didn’t care one bit. My breasts felt swollen and my nipples tight, so I reached up with one hand and played with one of my breasts, gently squeezing my nipple, and cried out.

  Van stared up at me, expression fierce. I must look like a wild woman, my hair everywhere, my face flushed, the sounds I was making. I felt like a wild woman.

  “Jesus,” Van bit out. “That’s it, baby. Oh fuck, yeah, that’s it. Fuck me, London. Use me. Get yourself off.”

  “I’m…oh God…I’m nearly there,” I all but sobbed.

  “Show me,” Van growled. “Give it to me.”

  That growl in his voice moved right through me. I planted both hands back on Van’s chest and slammed down, keeping him planted deep and grinding against him. Then I was coming in a way I never had before. My whole body shook, almost jerking against him. Van wrapped his arms around me, one at my nape, the other on my butt, and he pulled me down, mouth attacking mine in a brutal kiss that left me breathless while he thrust up into me, riding me through it.

  I felt him swell inside me then he was groaning into my mouth and we were feeding each other our cries and gasps and moans of pleasure as we came together.

  I collapsed against him. I didn’t think I could move if I tried.

  Van held me tight against him.

  I think I dozed off a couple of times, and every time I woke, I felt one of Van’s big warm rough-skinned hands moving over me, stroking my hair, my thigh, gliding up and down my spine, my butt. I marveled at the silence of this place. Birds, insects, and the rustle of leaves in the breeze were all I could hear.

  I should probably get off him.

  I stayed where I was.

  “It’s been so long since I left the city, I forgot what real silence was like,” I said and lifted my head, resting my chin on my hands. “It’s nice.”