Page 12 of Brutal Mercy

Which is fucking strange as shit. Because most women can’t keep my interest for more than a night. And never have I felt such a strong pull toward one. Like I will die if I don’t have her.

Just who the hell is this woman?

“Go to her store with a small team and check it out. Find her purse, phone, and keys. I want her story verified before nightfall.” I want to know everything about her. Where she lives, sleeps, and if there’s any man in her bed. Not that I give a fuck if there is, because I will remove them.

“On it, brother.” Ares grips my shoulder for a minute before he exits the room, leaving me to play nursemaid to my surprise house guest.

After covering her with a blanket, I have the maid bring my laptop up from my office so I can get some work done during my vigil. It may be paranoid that I don’t want to leave Luna alone. But in my line of work, I trust my instincts. I must, otherwise my enemies will take me and everyone I care about down.

While sleeping beauty slumbers, I work on my official business, a stock brokerage firm, Massimo Enterprises, ensuring the company is running smoothly while I’m not in the office. I rarely go in because I have a stellar team that runs the daily operations, which is why I don’t have to go into the office unless I feel like it. And I work remotely most of the time, which leaves me to run the Massimo organization, which is my real business. Massimo Enterprises is where I invest all the money my criminal organization makes, and I turn an even heftier profit.

And it helps keep the Feds off the scent of what we really do.

Some call us criminals. I say we’re entrepreneurs using any means necessary to get ahead. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. As long as I haven’t put those eyes out.

I am not a good man.

I have lied, cheated, and killed to get where I am today.

And if I had it to do all over again, I would do everything the same. I live by my rules and answer to no one. And I’ve made a fuck ton of money. So no, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. I love my goddamn life.

Is it dangerous? Sure. But what is life without a little risk?

Throughout the long afternoon, my gaze strays time and again to my bed. And the gorgeous woman nestled upon it. Her long black hair spills over the pillows and around her face.

She interests me more than I’m comfortable with, given our age difference. And I don’t even know how old she is, but I estimate she’s over eighteen. If she’s not, just put me out of my misery, because that’s a low I won’t ever stoop to.

But every time my gaze lands on her form, my dick twitches and lengthens. She might be young, but she’s all woman. And I cannot keep the myriad fantasies from plaguing me, remembering her ripe tits and killer body that I’d love to spend days fucking. I sit at her side as the day wanes, watching her sleep.

She’s in my bed.

And I like her there, even with her bandaged leg propped up on pillows with an ice pack on top. Even the cuts and bruises marring her face don’t detract from her loveliness. She stirs emotions deep inside me. And in my bed, amid the deep burgundy, she looks exquisitely fragile and innocent, calling forth foreign sentiments.

I want to protect her.

I want to exact vengeance and retribution on that motherfucker Diego, who thought he could put his filthy cartel hands on her.

And I want to fuck her every which way, in every position imaginable. Twice. Until my blood no longer rages when I’m near her. I bet she has the sweetest cunt and would feel like hot oiled silk clamping down on my dick.

At the knock on the door, I rise. I don’t want to disturb her with my business, not when she needs sleep to heal from her ordeal.

Ares stands outside the door. He jerks his head toward the hall. And the look in his eyes tells me he found something. Something I doubt I will like, but that’s par for the course around here.

I exit and silently close the door. “Well?”

“She checks out. The team took photos of her store. I uploaded and emailed them to you. That fucker destroyed the inside of her store. Our guys found her purse and keys in a drawer in the office and her phone behind the register. She doesn’t even have a lock screen on it. Total innocent.” He holds up the black purse and phone. “I checked inside her purse. Had Sal run a check on her driver’s license. She is who she says she is. She owns the Rocky Mountain Depot. No criminal record. Not even a damn speeding ticket. And while Diego left the purse and phone behind, he took the store safe.”

That motherfucker!

I grit my teeth. Ares hands over her purse, keys, and phone. She’s a victim of the cartel. And Diego wants her bad if he’s willing to go to such extremes.

An insidious idea swirls in my head. It’s risky. Extremely. But when has that ever stopped me from doing something? And if I do it correctly, it will give me the fuel I need to eliminate the cartel from my territory. There are other variables to consider, like their alliance with the Irish. But the Russians hate them both. And Roman Orlov and I have worked together from time to time when it was in our best interests to do so. This may be another one of those instances where we work together.

And perhaps even forge an alliance.

“Very good. Have Lorenzo and Tony see if they can locate the son of a bitch. Find out what he’s up to and see if they can sniff out his next moves.”

“You’re cooking up something.”

---