Beg For Mercy (Fate's Vultures, #2)

by Jami Gray

  Suárez fell quiet, obviously pondering his options, and they waited him out. With each passing second Mercy’s nerves tightened. Finally, he spoke. ‘A week to get Felix to admit to killing my son and planting the explosives.’

  She didn’t wait for Istaqa but said, ‘And what proof do you require?’

  ‘Don’t worry about the type of proof, just get it.’

  Okay, that didn’t sound good. In fact, being the paranoid woman she was, she figured that meant she’d have another one of Suárez’s minion’s on her ass. Fucking great.

  ‘Bounties?’ The question came from Havoc, but Suárez heard.

  ‘Remain in place.’ There was no give in his voice. ‘Even if I were to call them off, it would take more than a week for word to spread. Besides, should she fail, I’ll be more than satisfied with her head in exchange.’

  Yep, there was another damn Cartel member out there somewhere. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Well, at least now she knew, which meant she still might make it out the other side still breathing. She wasn’t surprised about the bounties though. Handling them would be a nuisance, but doable. Besides, getting them removed would’ve been icing on the cake. For now, she’d take what she could get, a reprieve and a chance to do her damn job.

  Chapter 11

  ‘Guess this means you don’t think I’ll bolt in the middle of the night, huh?’ Mercy sat cross legged on a bed in one of Istaqa’s bedrooms. A bed Havoc thought about sharing with her, but common sense, the logical bastard, prevailed.

  He took in the exhaustion lining her face and the bruise coming up on her jaw. Between that and her earlier souvenirs from her run through the desert, she looked damn near done in. Strangely, it made him want to coddle her, a move he was certain would see his balls in agony. Therefore, he remained in the doorway, shoulder braced against the doorjamb. ‘I’ll be on the couch.’

  Her lips twitched. ‘Not the floor in front of the door?’ There was equal parts tease and serious intent in her question.

  Cheeky wench. Yeah, he thought about that spot first considering the glimpses he caught earlier of her mind spinning so fast he swore there was smoke coming out of her ears. The only thing holding him back? His battered body. Instead of confirming, he dodged. ‘You plan on making a run for it?’

  Her mock pout was cute as shit, but he was too old to fall for it. She shook her head slowly. ‘Nope, going to crash so I can head out first thing in the morning. Got to hit Page and track Felix down.’

  ‘We,’ he corrected her, ‘will head out first thing.’ Tonight’s scuffle hadn’t done a thing to dull his craving for kicking Cartel ass. Hell, after listening to old man Suárez his jaw ached and no doubt his teeth had lost a layer of enamel. No way was he walking away from this now.

  Those green-gold eyes narrowed and her pointy chin lifted, offended pride all but dancing over her face. ‘Don’t trust me to do this on my own?’

  Prickly little thing, but not one he wanted to get on the wrong side of. Especially after watching her in action earlier. ‘Don’t trust you not to get jumped by bounty hunters and whatever the fuck else is out there looking for blood.’ He hadn’t missed Suárez’s dodge on her question of proof, and from the hard flash in her eyes, neither had she. They both knew it meant they would have more than just bounty hunters dogging their heels.

  ‘Awww, I feel so loved.’

  He stifled his smile. Damn woman was a tease.

  ‘Thank you.’

  At her quiet words, he felt his body lock and something uncomfortable seep into the cracks she created. ‘For?’

  ‘For bringing me here.’ From under her thick lashes, she studied him.

  The weight of her gaze drifted over him, but he refused to react. ‘Didn’t give me much choice.’

  That earned a small grin. ‘Still.’

  Time to remind her to think twice before trying to ditch his ass, because sure as shit, she was going to try. ‘We’re not done yet.’ It was a warning, pure and simple.

  She blew out a heavy breath and twisted a finger in the loose material of her shirt. That tiny movement telling him she was far from confident with whatever she had cooking in that quicksilver mind. ‘No, we’re not.’

  He squelched the rush of satisfaction at her unexpected submission and switched gears. ‘Got a plan for Felix?’

  White teeth worried her bottom lip, then let it go. Her shoulders straightened and her chin took that determined lift once more. ‘Not yet, but I’m working on it.’

  No doubt she was, because nothing set a fire under your ass like a deadline with a death sentence. ‘Work faster, darlin’, the clock’s ticking.’

  Her nose wrinkled and he was surprised she didn’t stick out her tongue. ‘Yeah, as if I wasn’t aware.’ The starch in her shoulders began to fade.

  Taking the sign for what it was, he decided to let the minx have her privacy. He lifted his chin and straightened. ‘Sleep well, Mercy.’

  ‘You too, Havoc.’ Her husky voice curled around him like the sweetest touch, igniting a rapacious hunger and rousing his most primitive instincts.

  Despite his body’s savage urges, he closed the door softly and made his way to the couch where a pillow and blanket waited. There was a low light coming from the kitchen, but neither it nor the moonlight did much to ease the shadows. Still, he didn’t miss Vex sprawled in one of the easy chairs. She waited as he sat, forcing his body back under his relentless control, and worked his boots off. Once he was stretched out on the couch, she decided to speak. ‘So what’s the deal, Havoc?’ Her voice was pitched low so it wouldn’t carry beyond them.

  He folded his hands under his head and closed his eyes. ‘Gonna tag along with her to Page, see if we can run down Felix.’

  ‘Think that’s wise?’

  He didn’t miss the wariness in her question, nor did it upset him. Vex wasn’t the most trusting sort. Hell, none of the Vultures were. Hazards of the life they led. ‘Think it’s the only option we’ve got.’

  She let the quiet slip back in for a few, before finally muttering, ‘I’ll follow you down and take my leave in Page.’

  Not trusting at all. He grunted, hoping she’d trot off to the last bedroom and leave him in peace. No such luck.

  ‘What did he mean?’

  Since following her thought process was akin to herding cats, he asked, ‘Who?’

  ‘Suárez. He mentioned something called the Strix?’

  He wondered how she managed to curb her curiosity for so long. ‘More like who.’

  ‘Fine.’

  He popped open an eye to catch her curling into the chair. He stifled a sigh at the familiar pose. She was settling in for a story.

  Sure enough. ‘Okay, who are they?’

  The girl loved her stories, and he didn’t mind telling them. For the most part. It started out after he and Reaper took her and her twin from the streets of Portland. Vex had a hell of a time sleeping, so Havoc would sit up with her as the moon rose, sharing stories in an effort to outrun her nightmares. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Tonight wasn’t about nightmares, she was worried, but trying to hide it. Right then, guess it was time for a history lesson.

  He let his eyes close again and shared. ‘The Strix used to be the most lethal assassins out there. They rose out of the chaos of the Collapse and whispers of them grew to epic proportions as the years passed. After shit settled, they remained nothing more than rumours and speculation.’

  ‘So they weren’t real?’

  ‘No, they were very fucking real. They could get to anyone, anywhere, at any time. No-one’s certain just how many died at their hands because they were damn good at making shit look natural. They didn’t leave any clues behind. Drifted in like smoke, did their deeds, and disappeared just as quickly.’

  ‘Sounds like those sneaky types—what were they?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Right, ninjas. One of the books my old man kept was about them. Maybe the Strix were just bad-ass ninjas.’

  He chuckled. ‘Maybe,
but doubt it.’

  Getting into their shared storytelling habit, she followed his cue. ‘Why?’

  ‘While that ninja shit makes for good stories, not so sure it’s real.’

  ‘But the Strix were.’

  ‘Yeah, they were.’ He dug around his memories, pulling up the stories he heard when he was younger. ‘There were a couple of stories of who they initially were. Back before the Collapse, the government used these spy types that were so dark no-one knew they existed. Called them black ops. For all intents and purposes they didn’t exist except to do the dirty work of the government. Some say, the surviving black ops community, small as it was, managed to recruit new members and rebuild itself into the Strix. Others say the Strix are what remains of the old crime families. That when cities fell so did their underground empires, so they turned their skills to new profit avenues.’

  ‘Crime families? Like the mobs?’

  He wasn’t surprised she knew about those. Came from all those movies he made her watch with him when she was younger. Most had no idea about mobsters, but his dad loved old movies. Not that they were easy to get or to view for that matter, but his dad salvaged an old movie player and some recordings. The same ones he shared with Vex. For a small space in time, he and his dad managed some quality bonding over watching a variety of flicks—The House on the Hill (not his favourite), Oceans 11, The Godfather (parts 1 through 3), Reservoir Dogs, Scarface, Inception (which initially made his brain hurt), Independence Day (which was laughable, as if aliens could be more vicious than humans), and his all-time favourite, Zombieland. Even now that movie just got to him, made him wonder what the hell a Twinkie tasted like to gain that kind of devotion. The old world had some seriously fucked up shit that they found entertaining.

  ‘Havoc?’ Vex tugged him out of his memories and back to the present.

  ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘What happened to these legendary assassins?’

  ‘Not sure, but one day they were there, the next gone. My guess, they were wiped out.’ Because that seemed to be the way it went. No matter how dangerous or deadly a group was, there was always a bigger, badder predator lying in wait. That fact kept him and Reaper up at nights. It was also one of the main reasons Reaper hadn’t wanted to align with Lilith. They talked about it, but when Havoc pointed out that there was strength in numbers, Reaper reluctantly conceded. Now the Vultures were part of a slowly growing alliance. Havoc still wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Reaper was pissed, and not just because of the alliance. Those other issues he had with Lilith went deep and dark, beyond where Havoc could help.

  ‘That sucks,’ Vex murmured, bringing him out of the mental quagmire. Then she added, ‘Sounds like my kind of peeps.’

  He didn’t bother stifling his grin, because he could see it. ‘Yeah.’ The quiet crept back in and he began to drift. An old memory rose and he shared. ‘Met one once.’

  ‘A Strix?’

  ‘Mm-hmm. It was back during the Border Wars. Ran across him in Lost Angels after being cornered by some Cartel foot soldiers.’ Lost Angels once held the name Los Angeles, but after being ravaged by outbreaks, riots, rising coastlines and all the rest of the hell that belonged to the Collapse, there wasn’t much left. Those who ventured in called it Lost Angels because what remained was a creepy graveyard of what once existed. Losing it to the Cartels in the wars wasn’t much of a loss, as far as he was concerned. ‘He didn’t look like much. Seeing him you’d never guess what he was. But put a blade in his hand and he was stunning. Cold, ruthless, but lethal as hell. Taught me some useful moves while we were holed up. Afterwards, he was gone. Like smoke on the wind.’

  ‘Never ran across him again?’

  ‘Nope.’ But after his time in the Border Wars, he hit the road with Reaper trying to forget the lasting scars of why he joined the fight in the first place. He shied away from those memories and focused on what the future held. ‘You be careful heading back to Pebble Creek, baby girl.’

  She snorted. ‘Worried about me?’

  His lips twitched, but he knew better. ‘Not you, whoever you run into.’

  She gave a soft laugh, a rare sound. ‘I promise not to leave carnage in my wake.’

  ‘Something I’m sure Reaper will appreciate.’ He couldn’t resist teasing her, because it was too easy. ‘Simon too.’

  A feminine sniff of disdain sounded. ‘As if Simon gives a fuck what I do.’

  Yeah, teasing her was way too easy. Girl’s heart was all tied up with Simon, but she refused to listen to it. Hell, most times she refused to admit she even had it. But almost losing him to the Raiders had messed with her head. Probably why she wasn’t sleeping. Deciding to give her something different to dream about, he murmured, ‘Hate to break it to you, Vex, but that man doesn’t give you shit, to give you shit.’

  ‘Right.’ Not an ounce of belief existed in her voice.

  ‘A man doesn’t care, he doesn’t bother bitching. He cares, he’ll bitch.’

  ‘Whatever,’ she muttered.

  Can lead a horse to water, son, can’t make it drink. Words from his dad crossed years to whisper in his ear. Proof of that was the sound of Vex getting out of her chair. He listened to her move to his side but didn’t bother opening his eyes.

  Then he felt her lips on his forehead and her hair tickling his face. ‘Night, Havoc.’

  ‘Night, baby girl. See you in the morning.’

  He could barely hear her move down the hall, only the soft closing of the door indicating when she made it to her room. Finally alone, he let sleep come in, knowing he wouldn’t get much before Mercy made her move. And she would. That moment of speculation in the comm room gave her away. If he hadn’t been watching her, he’d have missed it. Now, he didn’t plan on missing a thing. When she did her thing, he’d be there, because it might be the only way he’d get a handle on the game she was playing, not to mention the one she called boss.

  No doubt about it, he considered her a personal challenge. A challenge he was more than ready to take on. Even though his gut told him she wasn’t out to betray him, you never could tell. And since his dick was all about getting in there, better to be sure than sorry.

  Chapter 12

  Mercy woke up to the hushed silence of the dead of morning. The windowless room was pitch black making it hard to pinpoint the time. No matter. Her trusty internal clock chimed she’d managed a good four hours of sleep. Which meant sunrise was on its way. She didn’t want to leave the warm nest of the bed. Even her body protested, demanding a few more minutes. But doing nefarious things was best done under the cover of darkness. With a sigh she threw off the covers.

  Less than a minute later she was by the door, toes curling against the smooth wood floors. Because of the chunk of soap shoved into the door’s strike plate, courtesy of her earlier visit to the hall bathroom, it inched open without the revealing snick of the latch. That same earlier bathroom run garnered her a couple of safety pins abandoned in a drawer and confirmed Havoc was a damn light sleeper. Hence the four hours of shut-eye. Here’s hoping the man was down for the count. When there was enough space, she slipped through, taking her time to pull the door almost closed. No sense in making her departure too obvious.

  Guided by years of experience in being in places she shouldn’t, she moved through the hall towards the main living space. Her pulse ticked along at a steady pace, the calmness needed for such endeavours holding strong. When she edged into the living room, she noted the night skies beyond the huge windows held the grey edges of early morning light. Great, she’d have to make this damn quick. It would suck to get caught sneaking through the room in the bright light of day.

  She inched her way by the couch, freezing when Havoc shifted. His breathing remained steady, while hers, on the other hand, went still. Only when the ache hit her chest did she remember to breathe—carefully. Move! The harsh mental slap sent her skittering by and through the kitchen.

  Not wasting time, she left the main room behind and began inchin
g her way down the long hall heading towards the back warren of rooms. She came to where it turned just before the communication room. There was a bit of low light coming from scattered hall lamps, but it didn’t do crap to illuminate things. She crouched down, palm flat against the floor, and strained her ears. No vibrations met her touch, meaning the hall was most likely empty. Silence flooded the space. No shuffling, no small noises that normally accompanied human presence. Taking a chance, she peeked around the corner, careful to make it quick.

  Shadows stared back.

  Leaning back against the wall, she frowned but didn’t move. No guard? Seriously? Okay, either this was a trap or a sign of arrogance. Could be both, but until she got closer she wouldn’t know. Unfortunately, she couldn’t wait for another opportunity. She needed to give her boss a heads-up that she was on the move. Chances were damn high that Felix had already reached out to his silent partner, probably to bitch about her screwing with his plans. Not about the dam, because no way would he want to admit that big of a fuck up. But she could guarantee he bitched about her screwing with whatever was in play back at the Suárez’s homestead. That also meant, if she couldn’t find Felix in Page, odds were damn good he was heading north. Because he was the kind of low-life slug who was concerned with one thing and one thing only, saving his own ass.

  Speaking of asses, time to move hers. Didn’t matter if this was a trap or not, because the longer she waited, the more likely she was to be facing Havoc. Decision made, she headed to the communication room. The door was closed, and after the confirmation of a gentle twist, locked. Time to improvise. Pulling out the modified safety pins, created after the bathroom run, she went to work, keeping a mental countdown. With the makeshift rake and a tension wrench, it took a handful of seconds to make the lock give way. Pocketing her lock picks, she slipped inside thinking perhaps later, she might consider counselling Istaqa on his over-confidence in his security. Maybe.