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

by Jami Gray

  After hours on the road and riding through the cooler evening weather, he was looking forward to a hot meal, but first up, they needed a place to crash. With that thought in mind he turned his bike towards the main drag, the snarls of Mercy’s bike following in his wake. It took another twenty minutes to find the place he wanted. He turned into a dirt lot where an eclectic collection of bikes (motorised and pedal) kept space with shifting mules and horses gathered around various size wagons. As he parked his bike and shut it down, he didn’t have to look around to feel the attention he and Mercy gathered. Seeing how Salt Lake was bigger than Page but smaller than say, Portland or New Seattle, visitors were nothing new. But for the folks calling Salt Lake home, visitors who rode in on modified bikes looking as rough as they did, got wide berths. Especially from nice little families like the one currently hooking up a swaybacked mare to a wagon.

  Freeing his bag from the back of his bike, he met Mercy on the sidewalk that led back to the main street. She had a battered saddlebag slung over one slim shoulder. The same one, despite his grumbles, she nagged his ass to swing by to pick up from where she stashed it, before they headed north. Didn’t help that he left Margo’s in a pisser of a mood. For one, he didn’t appreciate her trying to take them to a level they’d never shared. Even more unwelcomed was the history she tried to resurrect. He also hadn’t missed Mercy’s sidelong glances as he took them back to Lee’s. Those glances asked all kinds of questions he wasn’t ready to answer. Thankfully, instead of verbalising, she decided to hound him into picking up her stuff. Once she had her bag, they hit the road. Of course that was miles of road and hours ago, so he had a feeling her hiatus on questions was about to come to an end.

  Sure enough, she fell into step beside him and asked, ‘Where are we going?’

  They moved down the sidewalk and hit the street. ‘Getting us a room, then a meal.’

  ‘Right,’ she muttered under her breath. They moved with the light foot traffic, the babble of voices mixing with the clatter of wheels, while hooves and motors made their way between the shop-lined streets.

  Havoc stopped at the barred door of a battered four-storey building. Above, under a yellow light, perched a long narrow sign spelling out ROYALE in faded red letters. He laid a finger to the buzzer, hearing the echo of it before a squeaky voice came back. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Room for the night.’

  ‘Credit or trade?’

  ‘Credit.’

  When the buzzer sounded again, he pulled open the door, letting Mercy take the lead. They stepped inside a narrow entryway where the frizzy haired night clerk roosted behind a pitted counter. Thankfully, the clerk knew his shit, because in less time than expected, Havoc had a key and his eyes were glued to Mercy’s ass as they navigated the narrow stairs. Lured by the graceful sway of her hips, he couldn’t help but wonder if tonight would see a repeat of this morning, with a more satisfying ending. At the possibility, it wasn’t just his dick that perked up in anticipation.

  They hit the top floor and he finally tore his attention away from temptation to take in their surroundings. The carpet under his feet was worn but clean, the walls painted an unimaginative beige colour, their monotony broken by framed sketches of generic desert landscapes. There were five doors on each side and another set of stairs on the far end. Something he found out when Mercy stopped in front of the last room on the right. She used the key, and then pushed the door open with her shoulder.

  He followed her in, only to pull up short when she stopped a few feet inside. Trapped between her and the open door, he put a hand to her hip and pushed gently. ‘Move it, babe.’

  She craned her neck to his face as she shifted to the side, letting him pass. ‘That’s going to make for a tight fit.’

  He looked beyond her to see a double bed huddled under a thin patchwork blanket across from a narrow dresser holding a lamp. Just beyond the dresser was another door, presumably to the bathroom. Sun-faded drapes framed a window on the back wall. Everything was worn, but clean. ‘Maybe.’ He dumped his bag on the far side of the bed.

  ‘No maybe about it, Havoc,’ she grumbled. She shrugged off her bag and moved forward the last few feet to set it on the floor.

  ‘Scared, babe?’

  Instead of answering, she glared. He turned away, giving her his back while hiding his grin, then he stretched, working the kinks out of his back and shoulders. Smaller bed increased his chances of getting lucky, which did not displease him. And despite her glare, he wasn’t hearing any further objections falling from her lips. Finished, he turned around and caught her checking him out. Her gaze skittered to his and colour rode under her cheeks. Nope, she definitely wasn’t objecting. He let his grin fly.

  Seeing it, she huffed and rolled her eyes, but as she swept passed him, aiming for the bathroom, he caught the lift of her lips. She closed the door, then the tap came on. He wandered to the window and used a finger to pull back the drapes. Not much of a view, but there was a narrow alley shared with the squat building behind them. Never comfortable with limited exit options, he checked the window. The glass rattled in the solid frame, but it lifted fairly smooth. He leaned out and tagged the metal fire escape ending just above the street. Wrapping a hand around the metal railing, he shook it, hearing the rattle of metal against brick, but thankfully nothing tore free. Questionable, but it would do in a pinch.

  He ducked back inside and put the window to rights. ‘Hurry up, Mercy. I’m hungry.’

  The bathroom door opened, and she wiped at her face with a towel. ‘Give me a minute.’ She tossed it back on the counter and stepped out. She went to her bag, crouched down and began digging through it. Two thin blades hit the bed. She dug around some more, then straightened with a brush in hand, smoothing out her hair. A few strokes later she tossed the brush to the bag, gathered her hair and wove it back into its customary braid. Then she snatched up the pair of blades, after which they disappeared. Finished, she turned to him. ‘Let’s eat.’

  ‘You expecting trouble?’ He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and stalked close, trying to pinpoint where the blades went. He looked down at her and was pleased she didn’t retreat.

  Instead, her head fell back so she could watch him and her palms hit his chest. The gold bursts streaking through her green eyes turned molten. ‘Always.’

  Unable to resist the silent invitation, he wrapped one arm around her waist, closing the last few inches between them, and curled his other hand at the base of her skull. Then he dipped his head and took her lips. The hands at his chest stroked over him. Her taste hit his mouth like a damn drug, offering a sensual oblivion. Hard as it was, he kept their kiss short. When he lifted his head, her pupils were blown and her chest rose and fell. Watching her tongue come out and sweep over her lips caused his arm to tighten, pressing her heated softness against the aching length of his dick. This woman didn’t need to seek trouble out, it seeped from her damn pores.

  A stomach rumbled, his or hers, he wasn’t sure, but her lips curved. ‘Food first.’

  At her soft reminder his arm loosened before he reluctantly let her go. ‘Food first.’

  She stepped back, giving them both much needed space, her gaze holding his, mysterious thoughts shifting through their depths. Before he could recapture her and convince her their stomachs could wait, she turned and led him away from temptation.

  * * *

  Determined to kill two birds with one stone, get food and information, Havoc decided to take Mercy to The Last Stand. In an effort to keep their parking spots, they left her bike behind. This meant riding double on his, which was both a blessing and a curse. She rode pressed close behind him, her hands looped around his waist, her tits tight against his back, her cheek to his shoulder. By the time he pulled up to the rowdy bar at the edge of town, a very specific part of his body ached and it took an immense amount of restraint not to lay her on his bike and make it stop.

  Thankfully, there were other things, such as the drunken pair throwing wi
ld punches as they rolled in the dirt by of one of the two bonfires, to distract him. He shut the bike down and Mercy’s weight against his back disappeared, her hands leaving his waist. When he craned his neck, he found she had scooted back on the seat and was now watching the idiots on the ground. When the dumbass on top nailed his opponent in the eye, she winced. ‘That’s going to hurt in the morning.’ Then she turned to him and drawled, ‘You take me to the most interesting places, Havoc.’

  His lips twitched, but he patted her calf to get her to hop down. ‘Patrons are shit, but food’s good.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Her hands went to his shoulders to brace as she swung her leg over and got off. Once her feet hit the ground she stepped back, giving him room. Her attention shifted from the brawlers to the men and women gathered outside. There were small groups gathered around the bonfires, firelight dancing off glass bottles and over hard faces and even harder gazes. Some of which were focused on them.

  Havoc swung off, wrapped an arm around Mercy’s waist, his gaze tagging those watching and sending his own message to back the fuck off. Gazes skittered away as his message came through loud and clear. He one-armed his way through the door and they hit the smoke filled interior. Music played from somewhere, the kind with a heavy beat. A three sided bar held centre court and high-topped tables perched between it and the booths lining the walls. On the far left a game was underway at the pool table. Tucked to the right was a well-used dartboard currently sporting a mix of knives and darts. Twisting and turning like dancers, a tatted waiter and two short-skirted waitresses, shuttled drinks and food.

  Havoc scanned the scene, gaze sliding over the crowd. He tagged his contact, but instead of heading over, Havoc stepped in front of Mercy and forged his way to the bar, trusting her to stay at his back. The stools were filled, so he got the bartender’s attention and flicked two fingers, getting a nod in return. Two bottles of home-brew skimmed the heads gathered at the bar. Passing one over to Mercy, he caught her arched look and leaned in so she could hear him over the din. ‘What?’

  She turned in to him, keeping her mouth close to his ear. ‘The food better be damn good.’

  ‘We’ll eat, and if we’re lucky, get some information.’ He touched his bottle to hers. ‘Let me do the talking?’

  She lifted her bottle to her lips, hiding her mouth as she answered, ‘Got a choice?’

  ‘Nope.’ He nipped her ear, not missing the shiver that swept through her. ‘Stay sharp.’ Then he straightened and took a drink from his bottle, his gaze roaming the floor. He tagged an empty booth, herded Mercy to it, and cut off two bearded men with arms full of drunken females.

  ‘Hey, fucker, that’s our booth.’

  Havoc gave the man a dark look. ‘Was your booth.’

  Despite their alcoholic haze, the men took Havoc’s meaning to heart and stumbled away muttering.

  He slid in behind Mercy, who was shoving the previous occupants’ crap to the other side of the table before setting her bottle down. She stayed quiet, watching the scene. He let his gaze drift over the room before finally settling on a poker game, taking place at a table set off to the side.

  Four men played, oblivious to the chaos surrounding them. One wore a shit-eating grin and leaned forward, dropping something onto the pot in the centre. Light danced over the harsh angles of his face, illuminating the thin scar that ran from temple to chin and the sprinkle of white in his dark goatee. The man to his left threw in his cards, then leaned back and put his hands behind his short cut blond head, revealing dark ink scrolling along his skin. The dark haired man to his right, tapped a finger on the cards lying face down in front of him as he sucked on a cigarette, the haze of it adding to the sinister vibe of black hair, olive skin, and dark eyes. The big man sitting across from the first wore a pissed off frown, obvious even with the heavy brown beard he sported. A waitress sidled up, setting a bottle at the elbow of the grinning one. Before she could take the empty away, he snagged her around the waist, and pulled her into his lap. Somehow she managed to hold on to her tray, even as she laughed and wrapped a free arm around his neck. He said something. She shook her head but lifted her face and took his kiss. When he was done, he set her back on her feet, slapped her ass, and watched her swing away.

  When he turned back to the table, he said something. Whatever it was got chuckles all around, even from the angry one, who tossed his cards in before raising his bottle for an impromptu toast. The grinning lady-killer tipped his new bottle back, his gaze hitting Havoc’s. The humour in his face went sharp and he tipped his bottle in acknowledgement, before taking his drink and returning to his game.

  Connection made, Havoc sat back, stretching his legs under the table and his arm along the back of the booth.

  Next to him Mercy shifted, coming in close. His arm dropped to her shoulders and curled around. When her hand hit his chest and stayed there, he looked down. ‘Friends of yours?’ Mercy’s voice wasn’t loud, didn’t need to be, because the high backed booths helped cut down on some of the surrounding din.

  ‘Friendly, not friends,’ he clarified.

  Her mouth opened, then shut as her attention shifted to the woman coming to a stop at their table. With hair out to there, tits to rival it barely contained in a tank, and a skirt not much longer than the apron wrapped around her skinny hips, she flashed an open, friendly grin. ‘Hey, get you two anything?’ She wasted no time gathering up the mess from the other side of the table.

  Mercy leaned forward, her hand braced against his thigh, the heat of her touch tightening his grip on his bottle, even as she matched the woman’s friendliness. ‘What’s good?’

  The waitress gave the table a quick wipe down, then straightened. ‘Burger and fries are your safest bet if you don’t want to spend the night regretting it.’ Her gaze shifted to Havoc, feminine appreciation adding a sparkle to her eyes. ‘And, sugar, I’m sure you have better ways to spend your night.’

  Mercy’s grin widened. ‘Burger it is, then.’

  The waitress winked, and looked to Havoc. ‘And you, darlin’?’

  ‘Same.’

  ‘Got it, be back soon.’ With that she spun and took off.

  Still leaning across him, Mercy turned to him, laughter filling her eyes. ‘Never would have thought it.’ He quirked an eyebrow in question. She leaned in, until all he could see was her. ‘You need a chick repellent shield, my friend.’

  He blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Keeping females off of you is a full time job. First there was Nora, then Margo, now her?’ Before he could respond, she resettled next to him, reaching for her drink.

  It had been so long since anyone dared to tease him, he was caught off guard by the strange warmth crawling through his chest. He shook his head, lifted his bottle to his lips and murmured, ‘Trouble.’

  ‘And you love it,’ murmured Mercy as she mimicked him.

  Yeah, he fucking did. His arm tightened on her, but he let her have the last word.

  They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then under the protection of the table, her hand on his thigh tightened in warning. ‘Incoming.’

  He shifted his attention and clocked the man making his way towards them, bottle in hand. They both watched as he slid into the seat across from them. He mimicked Havoc’s position, arm along the back, legs sprawled to the side, heavily ringed fingers curled around the bottle’s neck. ‘Havoc.’

  ‘Dog.’

  Dog’s gaze went to Mercy. ‘Beautiful.’

  Havoc wasn’t surprised when Mercy stayed quiet and simply dipped her chin in greeting.

  Dog’s lips twitched from within his streaked goatee, but his attention went back to Havoc. ‘Strange seeing you here.’ He lifted his chin and did a deliberate scan before adding, ‘Especially on your own.’ His hooded gaze flickered to Mercy. ‘No offence.’

  While she tilted her head in silent acceptance and took another drink, Havoc regained Dog’s attention. ‘Reaper sent me on a run to Navajo City.’ />
  That piece of information got nothing more than mild interest. ‘That right?’

  The waitress reappeared, sparing Havoc from answering. ‘Here ya go, two burgers.’ She slid the plates in front of him and Mercy, then swung her head towards Dog. ‘How about you, sugar? You need anything?’

  The bottle poised halfway to Dog’s mouth paused, and he grinned around it. ‘Nah, babe, I’m good.’

  ‘Right, then, holler if you need something.’ She sashayed away, Dog’s eyes watching each swing of her hips.

  Mercy lifted from Havoc’s side, and he dropped his arm, setting her free. She nabbed a fry and started in on her hamburger. The smell of grilled meat hit his nose and to keep his stomach from kicking up an unholy racket, he picked up his burger and took a bite.

  When Dog turned back around, he took a drink and set his bottle down on the table. Humour faded from his face as his dark eyes held steady on Havoc. ‘How’s the grumpy bastard? Still pissed?’

  Knowing damn good and well Dog was talking about Reaper, Havoc arched a brow as he finished his bite. ‘Considering you dumped the pervert preacher mess on his ass, he ain’t smiling.’

  That ever present amusement was edged out by banked anger as Dog rolled his lower lip through his teeth. ‘Yeah, well, better he deal with that prick than me.’

  Considering Reaper’s tolerance for bullshit was below zero, Havoc wasn’t so sure. ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘Preacher’s still breathing, ain’t he? In fact, the slimy weasel’s back in town.’ Dog lifted his bottle by the neck, tilting it Havoc’s way with a smirk. ‘Reaper’s a big boy, he can handle it.’ Dog’s attention wandered beyond the booth, before coming back to Havoc. No longer lit with amusement, his face was a study of darkness and shadows. ‘Heard about Crane. Nasty shit. Reaper needs us, holler, yeah?’