Sabotage: A Vigilante Justice Novel

by Kristin Harte

  Parris pinned me with his light gaze as soon as I stepped foot into the hallway. “Mercy, I—”

  “No.” Just his voice ratcheted up my emotions, turning anger into rage and fear into panic. I pushed past him, tearing at my clothes. Heading right for my bathroom so I could shower. Needing every inch of this day off my body. “I don’t want to hear sorry or you have to go or whatever bullshit line you’re about to give me.”

  “No bullshit lines.”

  “Then, what?” I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it toward the laundry basket. Knowing I’d likely never be able to wear it again without feeling sick and worried about Beckett. “What could possibly be so important that you just have to say it right now?”

  He didn’t say anything, of course, so I yanked off the rest of my clothing and stepped into my shower, letting the water pelt my shoulders for a second as I caught my breath. Needing the sting of the too-hot water to feel something other than the emotional popcorn inside of me. I couldn’t handle this, couldn’t deal with how much this man put me through. I’d been yanked through both emotional highs and lows in only the handful of days I’d even known him—had been raised up and dropped flat on my face so quickly, I hadn’t been prepared. Hadn’t been able to recover. Any more time on this ride would be too much. Would create a pressure I might not be able to escape from.

  Would break my heart into a million pieces, ones that would never find their way back together again.

  “Mercy.” Parris placed his hand against the glass of the shower door, not looking at me. Not making a move to enter. Looking like he needed to unburden himself but didn’t know how.

  “Say it,” I said, giving him permission. Readying myself for all sorts of words that meant nothing to fall from his lips. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

  “I thought I was going to lose you and Beckett.” He broke, his eyes going bright red and watery. Taking a couple of deep breaths as if to collect himself while looking like a man ready to completely fall apart.

  Parris was about to cry.

  My heart broke for him. I hadn’t been expecting that. Hadn’t been prepared for the upheaval seeing his fear and pain so plainly laid out would bring me. I couldn’t even think of what I had been expecting other than not that. This man, this beast of a human male, looked and sounded so unsure of himself. So fearful. Terrified. As if we truly meant something to him.

  My heart slammed into the walls of my chest and made its demands known. I couldn’t hold it back from what it wanted, what it needed. So I opened the shower door and exited—slowly and with intention—before grabbing a towel to dry myself. All while keeping my eyes on Parris, who had moved across the small room to lean against the vanity. Still looking so lost.

  I had to be sure, though. “The man who took us was one of your brothers.”

  Parris shook his head. “No. True brothers wouldn’t do that. He knew you were important to me—he shouldn’t have gone near you or Beckett.”

  “But he did.”

  He looked up, a fierce sort of rage burning in his eyes. “And he died for doing that.”

  Oh. “So, he won’t be coming back?”

  My voice broke, all the fear inside of me still pounding through my veins but at a slower pace. At a little less pressure.

  Parris ran a hand over his face and sighed. “No, beauty. He’s not coming back. None of the Black Angels are. I accomplished that, at least.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. And if they do, they’ll end up in a hole in the ground just like the one who put his hands on you and Beckett.” He stabbed me with his cold gaze, his lip curling as he said, “I fucking swear it.”

  Calm. It blanketed me, warming me from the inside. This man would kill for me, for us. He likely already had. As much as some part of me knew that wasn’t the way the world should work—that there were laws and rules and procedures—I couldn’t help but be happy that Parris looked past them to take care of Beckett and me. Because when that man had put a knife to my baby’s throat, I’d wanted to kill him. I’d wanted him dead.

  And now he was.

  “Good.” And then I ran for Parris, hopping into his arms and kissing him with everything I had. All the fear of the day, the terror and the agony and the sick of knowing how much trouble we were in—it all coalesced into something close to need. Close to desire. It created a burning want to live, and being in this man’s arms was about the most living-est thing I could have possibly done. It wasn’t smart or right or what I should be doing, but I didn’t care. I needed to feel something other than fear, and I wanted Parris to help me do that.

  “Beauty.” He didn’t miss a beat, grabbing the backs of my thighs to lift me against him and walking me to my bed. “I was so terrified I’d be too late. I would have done anything to get you off that mountain. Anything at all.”

  I couldn’t even answer him, couldn’t offer him the solace of my words, but I could hold him. I could steal comfort from him with my body and maybe give him a little of what he needed, too. So I gripped him tightly, clinging to his shoulders as he laid me down. Digging my nails in as he covered me with his weight. Wrapping my legs around him before thrusting upward to knock him off. He rolled to the side, looking at me in confusion until I grabbed at the fastenings of his jeans, keeping my eyes on his as I freed his hefty erection. Parris grunted when my hand gripped his hot, hard flesh, rocking once into my hold before standing from the bed. He stripped himself as bare as I was, his jeans and shirt dropping to the floor at the side of the bed. Never looking away from me. Never breaking our connection. But then—

  “What happened to you?” I reached for him, my eyes locked on his side. On the damage done.

  Fitting that I kill you with a knife stained with his blood

  Holy shit. “Were you stabbed?”

  He flinched, his arm coming up to cover the giant bruise just under his ribs. As if he could hide it. “It’s nothing.”

  “That’s an awfully big nothing.”

  “It’s fine, really. Tiny got a hit on me but not enough to do any damage.” He shot me that arrogant smile and crawled over top of me, pinning my body to the mattress. “Besides, it’s not that the bruise is that big—it’s that I’m an awfully big guy.”

  He was. He really was. Not too big, though. Our bodies fitting together in the way they were meant to. The feel of him against me, the pressure of his weight on me, it put a few of my pieces back together. His warmth finally soothing something sharp and achy loose inside of me. Smoothing out the chill that had settled over my body the second that man had gotten his hands on my son and—

  A knife to Beckett’s throat.

  I squeezed my eyes closed and rocked against Parris, seeking some sort of pleasure. Some sort of way to forget, even if only for a moment. Chasing the unattainable one last time because I needed it. Needed this memory. Needed this distraction.

  “Beauty, wait.” Parris pulled away, lifting onto one arm to stare down at me with regret in his eyes. “I didn’t get to the store.”

  I reached behind me, fumbling with the nightstand drawer. Sliding it open. Reaching inside to grab the box he’d promised to provide.

  “Good thing I did.”

  Parris froze, his weight still pinning me in place, his hand on mine with the box between us. Breathing hard and heavy. More warmth worked its way through my system, a feeling of right that had a tactility to it. A sensation all its own. This was our moment, our time to connect. Even if it never happened again.

  “I’m only going to ask you this one time if you’re sure,” Parris said, practically trembling above me. Looking like a man who needed.

  “Good, because I’m only going to tell you this once that I am.” I tightened my legs around his waist and tugged him forward, sighing as all that manly scent enveloped me. As the force of his collapse pushed me into the mattress. I was surrounded by him—the feel and sound of him, the way he smelled and his breath in my ear. Everything. This—the sensory ove
rload of sex with another person—was what I’d been missing. Sure, I had toys and fantasies and could get off when I needed to, but this connection, the physicality of the act, that was something you couldn’t replace with silicone and batteries. That was what I’d been craving. To be overwhelmed by another person’s very being.

  Looking about as frantic as I felt, Parris leaned down, slipping the box from my hand and pressing his lips to mine. Completely covering my body before rocking against me. Caressing my pussy. And just like the last time, the feel of him there—the tease of it—drove me half out of my mind. To the point that I arched up, letting the tip of him slide inside. Trembling as the man groaned all low and deep before stilling.

  “Fuck, beauty. I can’t go slow tonight.” He growled low in his throat, breathing into my neck as he murmured, “I just want to fuck you so bad.”

  “Then do it.” I pushed him away, trailing my fingers back to that box he’d never let go of. “I want you inside me. I need it. I’m so wet for you.”

  His groan filled the room, and his body jerked forward. Within seconds, he’d ripped open the box, freed a condom from its wrapper, and sheathed himself. All without stopping the motion of his hips. All without easing a single pound of his weight from me. I responded to his movements, following them along. Making sure our bodies were lined up just enough for him to feel me. For him to know I hadn’t been kidding when I’d said I was wet. And when he finally notched himself at my entrance and pushed inside, when he breached what he’d avoided the last time he’d been in my bed, there was no holding back.

  Just this once.

  “Good goddamn, you’re so tight.” He thrust into me, grunting with every push. Not holding back or being gentle at all. He’d wanted to fuck me, and that was exactly what he did. He filled me up and never let me go, purposely rolling those hips to put pressure on my clit. Pressing deeper than any man had been before. And my god, was it good. So good. I was a shivering, quaking mess in mere minutes. Ready to let go and crash before he could even move us into a second position. This was it—all I’d needed. All I’d craved right there. Me, Parris, and him inside of me. Perfection.

  “Parris,” I gasped as he angled his hips a little more and hit something inside of me that sparked a flame I knew would soon burn out of control. “Parris, I’m going to come.”

  “I know, beauty. I know.” He lifted my leg onto his shoulder and slid impossibly deeper, pulling a moan from me that bore more weight than a sound should have. Pressing a thumb against my clit to give me the added friction I hadn’t even known I’d needed. “I want to come, too. I need to come. Let me get you off first, though. I want to feel you squeezing my cock. I need to know how much wetter you get when you come nice and strong.”

  I made a mewing sound, unable not to. Unable to control myself enough to hold back for a single second longer. I came with a shout and a gripping of Parris’ shoulders that likely left marks, splintered and flew through the air before slamming back together as he followed along behind me. Holding me close. Chanting my name as he slowed his movements and shallowed out again. As he came.

  So good. This man was so, so good for me. And so bad for us.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he kissed up and down my neck, still inside of me. Still rocking slightly. “I’m so sorry for today.”

  His words stabbed me in the heart, making what I knew needed to be done that much harder. Making me want to put it off, but I couldn’t. This had to be like ripping off a Band-Aid. Quick. Painful—but over in a second.

  “Me too,” I replied, giving him one final kiss before I held his face in both hands and pushed him away. Before I inched my body up the mattress so he could slide out of me. “And I think it’s time for you to go.”

  He jerked back, that heavy brow pulling tight. “What?”

  “Go.” I rolled out from under him, grabbing my robe from where I’d left it that morning and covering myself as I rose to my feet. “Leave. Again.”

  “Beauty, no—”

  “I’m not your beauty, and I said it’s time to go. So, please, I need you to get your stuff and walk right out that door like you did last time.” I crossed my arms over my chest, locking down everything inside of me because it hurt. Kicking Parris out hurt so much, but this was what needed to happen. This was what was best for Beckett and for me.

  Parris wasn’t one to give up without a fight, though, at least not this time. “Fuck that.”

  “Parris—”

  “My name is Chase.” He hopped to his feet and grabbed his jeans, yanking them up over his legs. “The man you just fucked and are now kicking out of your life—he has a real name.”

  That brought me up short. “What?”

  “Parris is my road name because I was in the Marines. My name is Chase. Chase Fowler.”

  And my God, didn’t his admission just make everything that much harder? That simple statement—that single truth—should have made me feel like a true connection had been formed. Made me bask in the intimacy of the moment. But all I could feel was fear, all I could see were the shadows in Beckett’s eyes when that man who’d worn the same patch on his jacket that this one did had put a knife to his throat. And all I wanted was to go back to that one single moment and make it all go away.

  I couldn’t do that, but Parris was my connection to those people, so he needed to go. Which meant the nice side of me with the soft heart that wanted him to stick around needed to shut the hell up and my inner bitch needed to come out to play.

  “Well, Parris,” I started, trying hard to ignore his flinch when I used his Black Angels name instead of his real one. “While that’s all fine and good, I still think it’s time for you to go.”

  His face hardened, and he looked away for a moment before pinning me with a look. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.” I retreated when he reached for me, glaring hard. Spitting my words out. “He could have killed my son. Do you get that? Not because of me or anything I’d done, but because of you. Because of the club you love so much. So, thanks for saving us, but I don’t want this life. I don’t want any of this.”

  He jerked as if I’d slapped him. “You don’t want me?”

  There was no way for me to lie to him. Not about that. It would only add fuel to his fire, make him think there was a weakness in my armor.

  “No, I want you—” bad enough for the need, the craving, to make my eyes water “—but the bikes, the criminal stuff, and the danger? Biker life? Mystery bruises you won’t tell me about? I don’t want any of that.”

  He sighed, clenching his hand into a fist against the counter as if wanting to reach for me but holding himself back. “Beauty, I’m trying—”

  “Your trying isn’t enough. You and the biker lifestyle are a package deal, and I’ve made my decision. I don’t want it.” I headed for the door, fighting to hold myself together for just a few more minutes. Needing to put something physical between us before I could break. “You need to go.”

  Parris still wasn’t giving up, though. He took me by the shoulder and spun me around, tugging me in tight to his body. “I’ll walk away from it. All of it. Tell me that might be enough, and I’ll do it.”

  “No.” Too little, too late. I pulled away, the scratching, aching pain of loss heavy in my chest. The residual fear of the day clogging my throat. “I’m saying no, Parris. I can’t risk my son.”

  Stricken. The man looked absolutely stricken. “I’d never put Beckett in danger.”

  And yet, he already had.

  “That man could have killed him today!” I yelled, unable to hold back. Unable to control the anger and the fear and the hurt. “That biker wearing your colors had a knife against his—”

  I choked, gasping for air. Hating myself a little because I couldn’t even say the words, couldn’t stop the pictures from playing out behind my eyes. My baby boy had been so close to death. That had been the scariest moment of my life. Bar none. And then being trapped inside that house, not knowi
ng what would happen next. So afraid that I wouldn’t be able to get Beckett to safety. The entire day had been an exercise in living out some of my worst fears, but Parris didn’t seem to get that.

  And I was tired of trying to make him understand. “I could have lost my son, and it would have been because of my connection to you. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  I yanked open the door and stepped back, giving him all the room he needed. Letting him go live the life he wanted to so I could go back to the quiet and security of my pre-Parris days. To being alone but safe.

  “Goodbye, Parris.”

  He paused, breathing hard for a moment before striding out the door and into the hallway. But before he left, before I could slam the piece of wood and put that physical barrier between us, he lobbed one final bomb my way.

  “The name’s Chase, and you’re going to be saying it a hell of a lot before we’re through, Mercy.”

  I shook my head, refusing to even look at him. Keeping my eyes trained on the floor at his feet. “Are you trying to say I’ll be screaming it like I did Parris?”

  “Nah, beauty. Sex is easy—I’m not settling for that.” He placed a single finger under my chin, forcing my head up. Refusing to surrender until I met his eyes. “This time, I’m going to hear you say it in some vows.”

  I practically shivered under the intensity of his gaze. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” He backed away, giving me my space once more. “Now get inside and lock up. I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”

  “Parris, there’s no way—”

  “It’s Chase. Say it.”

  But I wasn’t giving in to him. “No.”

  “Then I’ll try again another day.” He turned and moved toward the stairs, giving me one final look over his shoulder. “Good night, Mercy. Lock the fucking door.”

  I did as I was told, shutting and locking the apartment door. Listening through the wood slab to the sound of his retreating footsteps. Cringing as the metal door leading into the alley slammed closed.