Page 71 of Begging for Mercy
“I’ll kill him. I’ll kill the fucking bastard while he’s still inside of you.”
Zane reaches for the phone again, but I hold it out of reach. “Give me the phone!”
Holding my ground, I listen as the rest of Mercy and Sam’s conversation plays out, which means that Zane has to listen to it, too. He flinches, hiding his face, and I have to puzzle over if he’s upset that Mercy made a deal with Sam to have sex with me orif he’s upset that I’ve caught him red-handed in trying to hide it from me.
Sam’s voice rumbles like thunder from an oncoming storm, heavy and powerful, as he declares in no uncertain terms that he’ll be the one sticking his dick inside of Mercy first.“Your first time is mine.” The recording loops back to the beginning of their conversation, and I cut it off.
“What is this?” I ask again.
“It’s Sam and Mercy,” Zane sighs, lifting his glasses to rub the backs of his eyelids. “They’re going to that party tonight.”
“And?” I crumble Zane’s pants into a ball, wrapping his phone up with them. “Were you going to tell me?”
“I already said that I don’t want you to go to the party.”
“Not that part.” I toss his clothes to the floor and crawl over him, grabbing his throat as soon as it’s within reach. Pushing him into the mattress, I squeeze as gently as I can to get my point across. “The part where Mercy wants to fuck me and Sam agreed. Fuckingagreed.” I bare my teeth. As long as Sam’s there to watch, but that’s easy to accommodate. “How long were you planning to keep it a secret? A day? A week? Forever?”
Zane’s face reddens, and I have to let up before I hurt him. But the betrayal, no matter how slight, hurts. He gasps for air but doesn’t try to move out from under me. “I don’t know. I didn’t think that far ahead.”
“You know how important Mercy is to me. I’ve been talking about her nonstop for weeks.” I interlock our fingers and hold his hands over his head, pinning him down. “The only reason I haven’t gone over there and rutted her into the fucking floor by now is because of you.” I’ve been holding myself back because I can see how much Mercy bothers Zane. But he needs to get over it. “I want her.”
“I know.” Zane’s voice mimics Sam’s from the recording, drowning in an agony I can’t understand. I’ve been trying—I’ve been patient—but I still don’t understand.
“Is there anything else that you’re hiding from me?” Part of the reason my relationship with Zane works is because we’re honest with each other. We have to be, or we’d never be as good of a team as we are. Cutting up bodies for the bratva and selling pieces on the black market is nasty business, but it gives us the freedom to live our lives how we want outside of contract hours. I thought we were on the same page about our personal endeavors. But when it comes to Mercy, I guess our normal rules don’t apply.
Before Zane can answer, I let him go, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. “Don’t answer that. If you tell me any other secrets right now—” A bitter laugh cracks inside my chest. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Hate fuck Zane. Skull fuck Mercy. Break into the party and go overboard on booze and bodies. Anything goes when my mood gets bad enough, but I’ve been in a really good fucking mood for the past few months. Running a hand through my hair, I grab my shirt and stand up, eager to get some air. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Right now?” Zane’s voice pitches. He’s either about to panic or beg me to stay. The problem is that neither will work. “You don’t want to talk about this?”
“No.” I avoid his gaze, knowing that if I look at him, I’ll start to feel bad for being upset. But he’s the one who lied—kept secrets—whatever! “Anything you say to defend yourself is just going to piss me off.” He clearly doesn’t trust me, so what’s the point in talking about it? So that he can feel better?
Let him drown in guilt for a few hours, andthenI might consider forgiving him.
I leave before he can convince me to stay, grabbing my keys, leather jacket, and boots before walking out the front door. Theair is colder now that the sun has set, and I shiver as I walk up to my motorcycle. I know I told Zane that I was going for a walk, but a drive would work even better for calming me down. My heart pounds in my ears as I pull away from the curb, but the roar of the engine drowns out the sound. I lean into the icy wind, eager to let it numb the hurt inside my heart.
Because if Zane—the man who’s been my rock for years—can’t trust me, then what’s the fucking point in trying to be any better than I am? Why fight who I am when I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t?
The miles fly past in a blur. Streetlights whiz by alongside all of the college kids wandering the residential area in search of their next house party. Frat Row is where the Harlots reside—Greek life bastards who think they’re the cream of the crop—and I’m idling in front of Sam’s house before I realize which road I’m on. I don’t give a fuck about the party or the dozens of rich bitches inside.
What I do care about is Mercy.
A siren lost at sea.
She doesn’t belong in a place like this, surrounded by people who don’t understand her. My heart twists as I throw my leg over my bike and prop it up on the sidewalk. Zane doesn’t want me here because he doesn’t trust me. But I’m not here for me.
I’m here for my girl.
I’m going to be the one to pull her out before she gets hurt.
Because the people who love us are inevitably the ones who fuck us over the hardest, and I don’t want her to go through that. Not with me, and definitely not with Samson fucking Wright.
Not on my goddamn watch.
Chapter 26
Sam
