Mercy (Redemption Reigns MC Book 4)

by Juli Valenti

  Crossing her arms, she turned her head, refusing his gaze. She hated being wrong… and she still didn’t think she was. At least, not completely. He had a point, and she was mad as hell, but not all at him. Mostly it was the whole situation, his reaction, and, if she was being honest, with herself. She did know better, and she knew what she was up against. The revamped garage felt safe, like her shop had always felt… until it wasn’t. The rhythm of her work had overtaken her and she’d lost all track of time, and of herself. Hell, someone could have pulled up and she wasn’t sure she would have noticed — even with Tonka she hadn’t realized he was there until she heard his footsteps. If someone had wanted to take her by surprise, they could have fairly easily. If they’d taken quiet steps, she would’ve had no knowledge of them until it was too late. There would’ve been no fight, even, if that had been the case.

  It was careless and thoughtless to keep the one safety she’d had so far out of reach. No way could she have gotten to her gun if she’d needed it in a quick-thinking scenario. And while she could justify that she had tools that could double as weapons, bringing a wrench to a gun fight wasn’t a smart idea. The gun would always blow through another defense, pun intended.

  Mercy sighed. “I know, and you’re right. Not right for yelling at me, but right in the fact that I couldn’t have saved myself with the way things were set up. At least not easily — because I would never go down without a fight.”

  A small smiled played on the large man’s face, one she knew was going to be followed by some smart-ass remark. “Are you admitting you were wrong?”

  “No,” she told him quickly, fighting the grin that tried to pull at the corners of her mouth. “I’m merely saying that you were right about my gun.”

  “Sounds a lot like you’re saying I’m right.”

  “You need your hearing checked.”

  Tonka closed the distance between her, a chuckle in his throat as he pressed his lips to her. She wanted to fight him, to pull away; she was still hurt by his anger toward her. But her body had other ideas. Instead, she sighed against him, and he took full advantage and deepened the kiss. His tongue darted to meet hers she gripped at his shoulders before pulling away.

  “I’m filthy,” she protested, knowing she had grease all over her. Her earlier use of a towel on her hands did little to take the black off her. And, from past experience, she probably had streaks of it on her face, having wiped it there when moving her hair away from her eyes while she was working.

  “And I smell like garlic,” he told her, kissing her again.

  “You smell like good food.”

  “And you look hot as hell all dirty… I like it.”

  Mercy expected him to pull away, to tell her they were going to go back to the clubhouse to shower. Or to eat, because now that she was smelling the food he’d been cooking, she was hungry. But he did neither. Instead he pulled at the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head and dropped it to the floor. His hands trailed along her flesh, to her bra, his skin tan against her paleness. He was warm, her body chilled from sweat that had soaked her clothes.

  “Tonka,” she breathed and he shushed her.

  “Shhh. We may as well get more dirty before we get clean.”

  “But here?”

  He didn’t answer her. His lips crushed hers, his fingers making quick work of the closure of her bra, and he let it fall to the concrete along with her shirt. They were new, part of the clothes that Tonka had bought for her days before, and she didn’t care if they landed in oil or anything else. They could be replaced, and in that moment, the only thing that couldn’t was his hands on her body, his lips on hers. He tasted of garlic and wine and Tonka and it was divine after working all day.

  She could understand the appeal of the sweeties in that moment; for the men who didn’t have a constant woman in their life, they were a battery at the end of a long day. Mercy had forgotten the way the world fell away when doing something she loved, masking the aches and pains that came after the fact. And they always did. For her, in that moment, Tonka was her battery and she wanted to absorb it all, all the energy she could feel passing through their skin.

  Her fingers gripped at the fabric of his muscle tank, the one she knew now he always wore under his chef coat. She tugged at the offending material, and he pulled away only slightly, just long enough for her to rip it over his head before his lips met hers again. He kissed her like a man starved, one who hadn’t felt anything in his lifetime, and she returned the gesture with fervor. Every time was the same. Even if she wanted to go slow, to have him take his time and explore her gently, like most women would enjoy, she couldn’t. Her skin burned where he touched and ached where he didn’t. Clothes were like fire, hot and uncomfortable, and she cursed as she moved to unbutton her jeans.

  Tonka swatted her hands away and replaced them with his own, popping the button and maneuvering his hands down them, gripping at her ass. It wasn’t enough, though, her bikini panties keeping him from touching what he wanted, and the man growled. His mouth ripped from hers and he stepped back. His eyes were alight, emotion and frustration and a little fear causing them to all but glow, and she could feel her body respond. As he tore at the waistband of her jeans, tugging them down and peeling them from her thighs, she could feel her wetness pooling in her panties.

  So many thoughts ran through her mind, so many things she wanted in that moment, it was almost overwhelming. She wanted him to bend her over, to fuck her like she’d never been taken. She wanted to devour him and be devoured by him, all at once. Gentleness had no place for her, and she was grateful when he all but ripped her panties off. He made quick work of dropping his own pants, and lifted her, his hands under her thighs. Tonka pressed her back to the lifted truck and wasted no time plunging into her.

  Mercy cried out as his length entered her, stealing her breath, the fire in her core melding with the coldness of metal on her bare back. She wrapped her legs around him, allowing him to shove into her, not caring that her spine hit the truck over and over, more than likely leaving a bruise. He filled her, taking everything of the day away as he did. With every thrust inside her, things got more distant — their argument, his frustration in her lack of protection, hell, all thought of protection in general. Nothing existed except their bodies meeting, giving and taking, punishing and delicious all at once.

  Her body tightened with embarrassing quickness, her muscles clenching around him and his name exploding from her lips. Tonka growled with pleasure and moved them to her toolbox, before pulling out. He flipped her around, pressing on her back and gently kicking at her legs, before entering her once more. If she’d thought he was taking her before, she was wrong. His every movement was hard, shaking the toolbox, the rattle of metal loud amongst her cries of pleasure. Sweat dripped from her face, her body no longer chilled by the air. She burned, and Tonka’s grunts of pleasure grew closer together, his thrusts growing faster. It didn’t seem possible to move as fast as he did, pistoning inside her. Mercy’s hands gripped at the metal, her booted feet struggling to remain rooted in place.

  Footsteps, loud even over the sound of their fucking, reached Mercy’s ears, but it was too late as she came. Stars exploded in her vision as Tonka followed suit, just in time for a man’s voice to boom loudly throughout the garage.

  “Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you inside my daughter?”

  16

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I’ll ask one more fucking time. Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you inside my daughter?”

  Mercy arched her head to peer behind them, unsurprised to find her father standing angrily, his arms crossed over his chest. Fury poured off Chuck Sheridan in palpable waves, but she didn’t care as much as she probably should have. The fact that Tonka was still standing behind her, his cock still in her, must’ve had something to do with that. Or the fact that she’d just had some of the best orgasms known to man. Either way, whatever the excuse, she calmly faced her fath
er.

  The way the world worked always entertained Mercy, and this was no different. The man who’d been her own version of the Boogeyman for so long stood in Lock’s shop, and, for the first time in her life, didn’t seem as big as he once had. Instead, even from where she was, she could see the exhaustion in his face, lines drawn across his forehead and around his eyes, his lips pulled downward in anger. It was a long, tough ride from Wyoming to New Mexico, which she was sure he’d found out firsthand seeing as had gotten there so quick. They’d expected him the day before, but only one day late wasn’t too bad.

  Chuck Sheridan stood six foot, looking almost small beside Tonka, who was now attempting to dress Mercy. He tugged at what was left of her panties, ripping the remaining fabric where they remained barely hanging onto her legs and dropping the fabric to the ground. He followed the movement by tugging at her jeans until they covered her ass, for which she was grateful. She wouldn’t have done it herself, refusing to give her father any satisfaction, but she appreciated that Tonka didn’t want her naked and on display in front of her dad. He followed suit and pulled his own pants up, before passing Mercy’s shirt to her. His tank and her bra stayed on the dirty garage floor where they’d fallen.

  “I asked you a question, boy.”

  “I heard you, I just didn’t feel you deserved any kind of answer for a fucked-up question like that.” Tonka’s words were calm, dry, his voice unwavering and confident as he stood facing the Static Law founding president. He was unaffected by the fact that he was shirtless, or that he’d just fucked the shit out of her; Mercy could have kissed him… again. She liked that he didn’t fear her father, even if he should.

  “So you found me,” Mercy said, shrugging. “Happy?”

  “Happy? Did you just ask if I’m happy?” her father spat, glancing at the brothers who had filed in behind him and around the two of them. On a quick count, Mercy guessed there were at least ten, not counting her father. And, knowing her father, she knew there were probably at least another half dozen outside the shop, keeping watch.

  “Well it’s better than a lot of other things I could have asked,” she answered flippantly, annoyed. “I mean, as I’m sure you saw, I’m more than happy… maybe I figured you should have been to.”

  “Mercedes Sheridan, you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

  These words came from one of the Static Law brothers and she turned, recognizing it. Matching eyes to hers, the male version of herself stood. Dodge, the youngest of her brothers, though still older than her by almost a decade, stood proudly in his SL cut, his eyes wide and alight with anger. His piece showed at his shoulder, and she could tell it wouldn’t take much work for him to pull it.

  “Fuck you, Dodge. Still haven’t gotten that officer patch you’ve been trying for what, the last ten years to get? Tough luck, brother.”

  “You fucking bitch,” he started, taking a step toward her, only stopping when her father whistled softly. Easily chastised, he stepped back into formation, fury to match her father’s written all over him. She smiled and winked, knowing she was poking the bear but not giving a fuck. She and Tonka were clearly outnumbered and it seemed her father had something to say, or he would’ve let Dodge come after her.

  “Watch it, little sister,” another voice chimed in and she turned again, a momentary pang of sadness passing through her chest. Yet another blood brother stood to the right and slightly behind Chuck.

  Harley.

  Out of all her siblings, he was the one that hurt the worst. He was the middle child of the boys, falling directly between them all. He was also the one most like her, despite his position within the club. He was her father’s Sergeant in Arms, though that fact was something that always perplexed her. He was kind, and had helped raise her when her father had been too busy. He’d taken her to school events, helped her dress shop for her first school dance, and taken her out for ice cream when the boy she’d liked refused to dance with her. Of course, the reason the boy had denied her was because Static Law had killed his own parent… but telling that to a young girl with a crush was hard.

  No, Harley had been the only real family she’d ever claimed. He may have been the law keeper of the group, but he never came off the way the others did. Seeing him before her now, his forehead drawn in anger, having come to take her home… or out… was a hard pill to swallow.

  “You too, Harley? Really?”

  Her brother shook his head. “You know good and well why I’m here.”

  He had no choice, his words said. Even through gritted teeth, despite his entire body language, she knew that if any of them would have simply let her go, it would’ve been him. But, he held his duties to Static Law in high regard, and would do as he was told; the club would’ve voted, under pressure from its pres, and he would follow whether he wanted to or not. And he wouldn’t think twice, regardless of the outcome. It was what it was where he was concerned. More, he’d blame her — he wouldn’t have had to do any of it if she hadn’t left.

  “This is your fault,” he told her, echoing her thoughts.

  “Dodge… Harley… Mercedes. Jesus Christ, Dad, what stupid fucking names you gave us all. And to think you wanted nothing to do with a mechanic for a daughter.”

  “Your place isn’t here, it isn’t a shop, and you know it,” he answered, ignoring her. His eyes remained fixed on Tonka. “Last time, motherfucker. Who. The fuck. Are you.”

  Tonka remained unspeaking, adjusting slightly so his body shielded Mercy’s. It was a gesture that warmed her heart, but he really shouldn’t have done it. There was less of a chance of her father shooting her over him, so it would’ve made more sense for her to be in front of him. Nodding along with her thoughts, she stepped to the side, so she stood more beside him, and she saw more than heard Tonka sigh softly.

  “You say that Mercy doesn’t belong here, but it is you and your men who don’t. Hells Redemption has given you no permission to cross our borders. This is law, and its enforced here.”

  “Boy, I don’t need permission from anyone or anything to go wherever the fuck I want to, and to retrieve what is mine.”

  “Yours?”

  “Yours?” Mercy echoed in time with Tonka. Anger rose, coloring her cheeks and she opened her mouth, but stopped when Tonka spoke first.

  “I see nothing of yours here. Leave.”

  “A club stealing the property of Static Law means death. I will take my belonging back with me to Wyoming, and you and everything and everyone you cherish will die if you choose to do this the hard way.”

  Mercy stared incredulously at her father. He was her opposite in every way. His blond hair a stark contrast to her black, his hazel eyes full of fire, compared to her brown. It was hard to believe they were related, especially as she listened to him call her a possession, a belonging. She was no one’s, not Static Law’s, not Hells Redemption’s, not even the man’s who’d been inside her a few moments ago. She was her own, her own person; she belonged to herself. The fact that she was looked at that way, was one of the many reasons she’d left in the first place. Hearing it for the millionth time only cemented her decision. She would never go back; she would die fighting if she had to. Sheridan, Wyoming wasn’t her home, and Chuck Sheridan was only her father by biology.

  “You have a lot of nerve,” she started, taking a step forward. “To come into my place, only to claim me as fucking property. I am not, nor have I ever been, your property. And Static Law? You better count your days, Dad. Your men came into this town and opened fire on a club — a club that fucking annihilated them. And they’ll do the same to you.”

  “Not all of them,” a foreign voice came from behind him, and it took a moment for him to appear from behind the other SL men. More had filed in behind their president as they’d spoken, making for fifteen or so now in the garage.

  A man she didn’t recognize came into view, a generic leather cut on. She didn’t know the owner of the voice, but the cut, she knew. It was an HR prospect cut, one that was t
he framework to be earned. This time it was Tonka’s turn to take a step.

  “You’re dead, prospect.”

  The younger man in front of her pulled the cut from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, satisfied as it hit concrete in a loud thud. He accepted a new one from the nearest SL, this one complete with rockers and name tag. Coast, the patch read, not that it mattered.

  “You’re in a hell of a predicament to say that,” Coast snorted, turning to Chuck. “That’s Tonka. He’s resident muscle, has a restaurant downtown. No officer patch, when he’s wearing his.”

  The president nodded, accepting what the former prospect said, before pulling his piece and firing. Lead made purchase in the man’s forehead, blood spraying the men standing behind him, and the truck on its lift. Not one person in the room flinched; not Mercy, not Tonka, and certainly none of the Static Law.

  This, this Mercy understood, and for the first time in her entire life, she was on her father’s side with it. Not necessarily aligning herself, but the reasoning he had for taking the other man’s life. He was a turncoat, a fucking traitor, for both HR and SL. The former was what backed her, though for her father it was the latter.

  “Thanks for saving me the dirty work, later,” Tonka said wryly, his thank you halfhearted. Mercy was sure he wasn’t upset that Coast met his end, had already said he’d do it, her father had merely saved him the effort. It was more probable he’d been looking forward to doing it himself.

  “I didn’t do it for you, fuckhead. I did it because he betrayed his home. The nicest thing I did was allow him to die with Law on. And seeing as he led us right to you, days ago, he served his purpose. And he serves another now, your last warning. Give me my daughter.”

  “See, that’s the thing, Chucky,” Tonka taunted, taking another motion toward the man, his eyebrows raising as the bikers circling them reached for their guns. Tonka laughed before continuing. “So jumpy. But that’s the issue. She doesn’t seem to want to go with you… quite the opposite, really. In fact, she traveled quite far to get the hell out of Dodge,” Tonka shot a look to her brother, chuckling, “well, you know what I mean.”