No Mercy: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by D. M. Davis

  “Two weeks?! Limited duties?” I thought for sure he’d let me hang out and slowly get back to full swing.

  “You heard the man,” Gabriel smugly replies. “Let’s go.”

  “Go?” I look between the two of them who share a conspiratorial look. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Oh, yes you are.” Mr. Asshole stomps toward me.

  “No.” I hold my hand out, which only manages to press against his chest as he pushes me backward. “I have my car. I don’t need you to drive me.”

  “You drove!” The sing-song effect of their joined voices has me smiling despite myself.

  “Yes. I drove.” I stand a few inches taller, hoping it’ll make them back down.

  “What the fuck, Angel?” His hand covers mine, holding it against his chest. His heart is beating rapidly, and his eyes soften as if he’s truly concerned. “I know the doctor didn’t approve you to come back to work, much less drive.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off. “Don’t lie.”

  A shrug is the only answer I give.

  “That’s what I thought.” He holds out his hand. “Keys.”

  I narrow my eyes at him and then Cap, who simply shakes his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Fine.” I dig them out of my purse and smack them in Gabriel’s palm.

  Gabriel tosses the keys to Cap and grabs my hand. “Will you see that the guys drop her car off at my house later?” He doesn’t wait for a reply as he drags me out of Cap’s office.

  “I hate you,” I mutter, trying to dislodge my hand from his.

  “No, you don’t.” He picks me up with gentle ease as if I weigh nothing, kissing my forehead and whispering against my skin, “You only wish you did.”

  Last week, when I brought my Angel home from the gym, it took everything I had not to kiss the hurt off her face. In her eyes, I’m unreasonable. I’m a traitor. I said I’d have her back, and I do. But it doesn’t mean I supported her plan to hurt herself by returning to work and driving too soon.

  “What if you had an accident?” I glanced at her beautiful, pouty face as she tried to ignore me from the passenger seat. “What if a kid ran out in the road? Could you have slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel fast enough—with only one arm—to avoid hitting him?”

  Color drained from her face as she grasped the reality of what could have happened. “I didn’t—”

  “I know you didn’t. But you could have killed someone, or yourself.” I’d been exaggerating. I doubted anything would have happened, but it could have. And then where would I have been?

  That was last week. Things haven’t been much better since, though she’s still staying with me.

  The memory of that day has my fingers twitching with the need to touch her, to see her. I’ve got two days until my next fight. It’s a big one, an important one that will guarantee me an invite to the biggest match of my career.

  I’ve fought my whole life, for food, for shelter, to keep my mom and sister safe. I’ve been fighting for so long, I don’t know any other way. I set my sights on a goal, and plan, fight, and kick my way till I’ve decimated all in my path, making my dream a reality—in life and in the octagon. I can’t drop it all to become Frankie’s personal bodyguard. That’s important short-term, but I need to focus on the big picture. The Big Picture will allow me to take care of her the way she deserves, even though we can’t really be together.

  I have to hold out, focus. She can’t distract me. I must behave as though she isn’t my world.

  “You’re chopping those veggies like they have it out for you.” My Angel’s sultry voice has my cock stirring and my knife nearly slicing off my finger.

  “They’re devious vegetables, particularly the onions.” I don’t glance her way. Two days. Then I’ll regroup and see about this thing between us.

  She settles on a stool at the breakfast bar, facing me—too fucking close. Her vanilla scent washes over me. I shove a carrot in my mouth to keep from nibbling her.

  “Can I get one?” She snags a carrot from the cutting board.

  “Doesn’t seem I can stop you.” The coolness of my tone is all an act. Fuck if she doesn’t affect me on some deep level I don’t understand. It’s always been this way, and it always fucking confuses me.

  “You could stop me at any time, and you know it.” She doesn’t try to hide her hurt.

  I ignore it.

  Two. Days.

  I can do this.

  Sliding the veggies into the wok, I toss and stir till cooked to crisp perfection, adding the mix of cooked chicken, steak, and shrimp back in to be coated in the sauce and let the flavors mingle. Behind me, she sets the table, fetches drinks, and sits. Waiting.

  It feels like she’s waiting for more than dinner.

  I fill her plate with more food than she can eat. My desire to provide for her is too strong to ignore. A smile cracks my cool façade when she digs in like she’s starving.

  “Man, this is good. I’ll miss your cooking.”

  The satisfied warmth that filled my chest at her praise dies on her last words. “I’ll only be gone a few days. Besides, I left you some meals in the fridge.”

  “Thank you, but that’s not what I meant.”

  I lock eyes with her. “What did you mean, Angel?”

  A wisp of a smile touches her perfect lips. She likes my pet name for her nearly as much as I do. She shrugs her good shoulder, breaking eye contact. “I mean, when I leave.”

  I suppress the roar threatening to break free and bend my fork in half before her small hand touches mine. Instantly, I release the utensil. She hops up and grabs a new fork out of the drawer, replacing the mangled one.

  “I thought you’d be happy to have me out of your hair, not cramping your style.” Her tentative words have my heart pounding. She has no idea how much I like having her here. Knowing she’s here even when I’m not.

  That’s because you’re King Asshole, asshole. “That’s what you think?”

  She shrugs her damn shoulder again, her eyes on her plate. “Doesn’t matter.”

  Like hell it doesn’t.

  “I need to find my own place. Stand on my own two feet.”

  You don’t have to leave me to be strong, Angel.

  “I’ve been with Austin since I was fourteen. I moved out of my father’s house and in with Austin. I’ve never been on my own.”

  Being alone is overrated.

  Her gray eyes find mine, and the hopeful uncertainty I see in them twists my gut. Her next words escape like a plea, “I need to know I can do it.”

  Fuck. She needs room to bloom.

  I scrape the contents of my plate into the trash and set it in the sink. “I leave tomorrow.” I trudge down the hall, my feet like lead weights, making the journey away from her that much harder.

  “Good luck.” Her whisper barely reaches me.

  You too, Angel.

  Apartment hunting totally sucked. Emmy accompanied me, and though she tried to be upbeat, she was as disappointed as I was by what my budget would allow.

  As soon as the door to Gabriel’s closes behind us, she tries to cheer me up. “Maybe you should stay here, or your current apartment. You said it’s paid up for two more months. It would give you time to save more money, and maybe something better will come along by then.” She’s selling, but I’m not buying.

  “I can’t stay there, not with how things ended. Plus, what if Austin comes back?” No one’s heard from him. Grant says he’s fallen off the face of the earth. He withdrew some money from our joint account a few days after he left. He was in Vegas at the time. Luckily, he didn’t wipe me out. I opened a new account and moved half of the balance. It seems fair. He can have the rest. After all, we both earned it.

  “You should have taken all the money.” Emmy’s a mind reader too, apparently.

  “Just because he’s an ass doesn’t mean I have to act like one too.”

  “But you could afford a better place.”

/>   Nope. “I’d feel dirty. I’d rather live in shit than be a shit.” I learned that lesson from my dad, except he’d rather be a shit, treat me like shit, and amazingly enough—we still lived in shit.

  “God, that’d make a great t-shirt.” She makes a note on her phone.

  I know what I’m getting for my birthday. I shake my head as we make our way to the kitchen. “Hungry?”

  “Always.”

  Our snack of cheese and apples devoured, I sit on the couch staring at the blank TV while Emmy talks to Grant in the other room. This is my first full day out of the sling. My shoulder aches, but nothing me and a few Advil can’t handle. It’s a good sign. Hopefully, I’ll be able to return to work in a light load capacity. I’ll have to leave the massages and manipulations to the contractor Cap brought in, but I can assess and oversee.

  Now, if I can only convince Captain and Gabriel of that fact. I have a follow-up on Monday, and I don’t plan to leave the doctor’s office until I have a note saying I can return to work. I’m going stir crazy, and, though Cap is paying me while I’m off, something about medical paid leave, I can’t help feeling guilty.

  “You can stay with us.” Emmy frowns, scanning the room, the black TV, and then back to me. “Are you going to watch the fight?”

  Gabriel has the TV all set to stream most fights that are only viewable from the internet. “I hadn’t decided.” I rarely watched Austin fight. It’s hard to watch the guy you love get beat up or hit someone with such anger and bad intent on their face. I know it’s part of the package I signed up for, and I don’t have a problem watching other MMA matches. It’s Austin’s I can’t stomach. Maybe it was a clue to the man he eventually became as I’ve seen his anger and intent to inflict harm this past year, and he wasn’t in the ring—he was fighting with me.

  She grabs her purse. “I’m going to head home to watch with Grant, but I wanted to tell you, you can stay with us. We have our guest room. It sits empty most of the time. You’re welcome to use it for however long you need it.”

  I have no doubt she talked Grant into agreeing. They like their alone time, and with a baby, those times are few and far between. “I don’t want to cramp your style.”

  Her laughter is genuine and warm. “Oh, we’ll still fuck at every opportunity. You being there won’t stop us. Trust me.” She squeezes my arm as I walk her to the door. “Think about it?”

  “Yeah, okay.” A quick hug and she’s down the driveway. “Thank you for going with me today.”

  “Welcome. I wish we’d had better luck.”

  “Me too.”

  “Call if you need anything.” Her eyes roam Gabriel’s large home.

  It’s larger than any place I’ve ever been before. He’s come a long way. I know he grew up with nothing, like Austin and me. We all had tough upbringings. I had Austin to rely on. Gabriel, well, I don’t think he relied on anyone—he had his sister and mom he looked after—but I doubt he relied on them.

  “If it’s worth anything, I think you should stay here. See this thing through with Gabriel. You’re good for each other.” She points to the house. “And he obviously has plenty of space.”

  “I think he’s ready to see me gone.”

  “Really?”

  I nod, the knot in my throat betraying my calm.

  “He told you as much?”

  “No. But he’s an ass—or was an ass. I don’t know. He’s been a dick to me for years, then incredible after… After. Lately, he’s been distant. I told him I was looking for a place. He didn’t say anything.” Literally. Not. A. Word. “I’m sure he’s ready to get his life back.” I scan the house. “I’ll only cramp his style.”

  She laughs again, tossing her purse in the car. “He’s always been an ass, particularly to you. I think that says something right there. You’re his kryptonite. Even Superman has his Lois Lane.”

  “But she wasn’t his kryptonite. Kryptonite was his kryptonite.”

  “Whatever, you know what I mean. Maybe Superman was a shit analogy, but you’re Gabriel’s Achilles heel. Without you, he walks for shit.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “You’re really bad at this.”

  “But you got my drift?”

  “Yeah, I feel ya. I just don’t agree. He couldn’t care less. He’s barely even talking to me.”

  “That’s because he’s too busy fucking you in his head.”

  “God,” I groan. The ideas she puts in my head. It’s too soon to even consider moving on with someone. I need to find my own footing. Besides, I don’t think I can trust my feelings when it comes to Gabriel. He swooped in to save me, but that’s not his norm—at least not when it comes to me. Mr. Asshole will come out. I have no doubt. He makes me feel safe, even in his home when he’s not here. Which is why I need to move out. I need to feel safe on my own.

  “Truth, babes. It sucks sometimes.” She hops in her car, turning it on and rolling down the window. “Think about my offer, but think about staying here even more.” She drives off with a, “Wings out, bitches!”

  Emmy is as crazy and bold as they come, but she’s got it bad for Grant. I’m happy for them. I kinda wish I knew her in her single days. She was a wild one, I’m sure. But Married Mommy Emerson is a rock star.

  Something to aspire to.

  I head inside and turn on the TV, setting it up to watch Gabriel’s fight when it starts. The knot in my stomach I used to have before Austin’s fights is present, but I don’t fear the face of Gabriel when he fights. He is—was—Mr. Asshole all the time. There’s no hidden monster with him. He’s as alpha as they come, and he wears it proudly. Gabriel is who he is with no apology, no pretenses. Though, he’s shown me his gentle side, something I never thought I’d see directed at me. It’s been amazing… And confusing.

  With an hour before it starts, I take a shower, donning yoga pants and an oversized shirt, sans bra, and set off for the kitchen. I think Gabriel made another batch of beef stew. I squeal when I find it—thank God I’m alone. My elation over Gabriel’s cooking would be an endless tease-fest if anyone else were here. Setting the pot to warm on the stove, I check the time and the TV, confirming I’m all set.

  The fights start, one right after the other, but it’s the heavyweight match I’m waiting for. My nerves kick into high gear when “Bawitdaba” by Kid Rock blares through the arena—it’s Gabriel’s entrance song. It’s not the one Emmy was listening to a few weeks ago, but it’s good. Effective. The crowd goes crazy, their roar nearly overpowering the heavy beat of the song.

  Gabriel’s menacing mug comes on the screen. His blue eyes—electrified from the strobing lights—flash to the screen for a split second. In that second, I feel his gaze on me like he knew I’d be watching. A smirk slips free before he banishes it with a clenched jaw and a punch in the air. He mouths something, kisses his wrapped fingers before raising his hand to the heavens. I’ve watched Gabriel fight, and I’ve never seen him do that.

  Over his shoulder, I spot Coach, flanked by Jonah and Walker. They look ready to spit fire, demons escorting the devil to hell. They’re all ex-military, including Coach. This is nothing compared to what they endured while fighting for our freedom. The MMA universe may be tough as nails, but these guys know they’re the powerful nail-gun who will spit out the competition like the hunks of metal they are. These men know fear and death—and beat both, tirelessly. An MMA match is like a church social for them.

  Gabriel tops the steps at the octagon entrance. Arms raised as if he’s already won, he turns, giving the camera a full view of his impressively muscled back, but it’s not the muscles that has them clamoring, it’s his tattoo. It’s Gabriel, the avenging angel whose dark shadowy wings span the breadth of his back. The figure is dark yet glows with inner light, a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. Gabriel may liken himself more to the devil, but his back says otherwise. He’s Gabriel the archangel.

  With a quick look to his corner, he enters the cage.

  Music for his competitor begins
to play. The main camera pans to the entering fighter, but a picture-in-picture display on the bottom right of the screen stays on Gabriel. My eyes don’t leave him. I step closer to the TV as if my motion could make the camera zoom in. He bounces, light on his feet, too light for a man his size and weight: 6’6” and 240 pounds. All muscle. All man. Dipped in testosterone and rubbed to glistening perfection.

  “You never looked at me like that.”

  I scream, pivoting to find an angry-faced Austin taking up space in the arch between the entryway and the living room, hands fisted at his sides, his fight face, his intent to cause harm radiating off him—focused on me. “Austin.”

  He steps forward, pointing at the TV. “You never fucking looked at me like that!”

  The trip to LA was uneventful. The guys tried to get me to go out last night, but I wasn’t interested. They were out to get laid. There’s only one woman I want, and she’s home—at my house—waiting for me. At least, I hope she is. Grant said Frankie and Emerson were going apartment hunting today. I prayed she didn’t find anything. It’s a shitty prayer, but I’m King Asshole. Whaddya expect?

  The Russian dude I’m fighting tonight tried to intimidate me at the weigh-in. I all but laughed in his face. Now, if he had a rocket launcher in his hand or was disemboweled by an IED, and I was expected to put him back together, then I’d be sweating. But as it stands, he’s got nothing on me. He’s no threat. It’s only a fight. An important one for the key invite I need, but still, it’s not life or death.

  I texted my Angel right before my entrance. It was stupid. Who the hell let me have my phone? She didn’t answer. Of course. I kept glancing at the screen.

  “Jesus, you’re Gabriel—No Mercy—Stone.” Walker punches my arm. “What the fuck do you care about a text message?”

  “Hand it over.” Jonah offers his palm. “I’ll keep it safe.” I know he means he’ll keep checking for me. He knows I’m worried about her, being away, unable to see her, confirm she’s safe.