Page 31 of Shot For Mercy

“If you keep looking at me with pity, I’m going to fucking stab you,” I say to him, and he grins.

“Bring it on, old man.” He grins. “I got moves.”

“Not for long,” I mutter.

Alessandro steps away from the wall, coming to my side. He keeps his eyes on our captives, but he talks to me in a low voice.

“I got this,” he murmurs. “Go get your boy.”

“He’s not mine,” I tell him. “And he’snotaboy.”

Alessandro smirks, pushing me toward the door, and I stumble back a couple of steps. Before I can speak, Giovanni hums.

“I texted the bouncers,” he says. “They’ll get him from the VIP area. He’s a little occupied.”

“Occupied?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Yeah.” He smirks. “He’s on some guy’s lap.”

Oh, hell no. How fucking dare he? My cock was inside him just a few hours ago. That just won’t do. “Get answers,” I tell Alessandro, then make my way up the stairs.

The music is booming when I step back into the club, and I fully expect the bouncers to bring Cole to me. Except when they knock on the door, they’re empty-handed.

“Where the hell is he?” I snap.

“He gave us the slip,” John says. “Went out the back.”

I nod, getting up from my chair and going to the back of the club. I open the door, because these fuckers are incompetent as hell, and slip out. I text Alessandro to let him know where I am and that I need him. It’s not smart for me to be out here alone in an alley. And when I hear the sound of fists connecting with flesh, I know I’ve made the right choice.

I make my way toward the sound, and there, behind the dumpsters, I can make out three guys beating someone. I take out my knife with my heart in my throat, somehow sensing Cole’s presence. One of the men speaks in Russian, and I step forward quietly.

“Hey, fucker!” I yell, and all three turn around, momentarily distracted. It’s long enough of a distraction that Cole takes his scalpel out and stabs one of them in the neck with it. The man goes down, and I smirk. “Coming here wasn’t a good idea,” I tell them.

They whirl on Cole, but now he’s ready, and I’ve seen him take down more than one man before. I walk closer, debating if I should shoot them, but they’re too close to Cole, so it’s not an option. Then my brothers step out of the club, whistling a tune, and the Russians freeze.

Yeah, fuckers.

This was a bad idea.

The Russians freeze as soon as they hear the tune coming from Alessandro, and I take my opportunity for what it is and punch one of the guys in the throat. I hear footsteps headed my way, and then there’s a gun pressed to the guy’s head. The other guy in front of me stays still, barely breathing, as Emiliano pulls the trigger.

“Fuck,” The remaining Russian grits out. “Fuck, fuck,fuck.”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I tell him, stepping forward with my scalpel and slicing his neck from one end to the other before he can react to my words.

Emiliano looks at me with a smile on his lips, and for just a split second, I smile back. That is, until I remember what he said to me last night, and I narrow my eyes on him instead. His eyes widen, probably realizing I’m still angry, and he offers me his hand. I look at it, then walk past him.

“Cole!” Emiliano yells after me. “There are clothes for you in my office.”

I laugh, stopping in my tracks right in front of the doors that lead back inside the club. “And how did you manage that?”

“Don’t ask,” he replies. “You need to clean up.”

I nod, not arguing for once. I just sliced someone’s throat, and I feel his blood all over my face and clothes. I need a shower. Thankfully, Emiliano’s office has one. Not that I want to go in there right now, but it feels like I have no choice. The men hit my body and not my face. My ribs hurt—they’re definitely bruised—but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Prison was fun in the way that I was always getting into fights.

Alessandro pulls out his cell phone, calling a clean-up crew, and before Emiliano can get another word in, I slip through the door. I make it all the way to his office without anyone seeing or stopping me, and for that, I’m grateful. I’m also glad I have some clothes to change into because I plan on going back to the dance floor, whether or not Emiliano wants me to.

His office smells like him—vanilla and spice—and I breathe it in greedily. Who knew I’d be such a junkie for the man, but the truth is, one hit only made my addiction worse. Now I know what it’s like to be with him; the memories will haunt me for the rest of my life. It doesn’t change the fact that I need to hate him, though. In order to protect my heart, I need to stay the hell away from the man. Otherwise, I won’t survive.

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