Page 5 of The Price of Mercy
Fucking hell, man. This is why I don’t date. It’s messy.
Mercy seems taken aback when I let her go, and I absolutely hate the way her tiny little smile rattles in the wind, falling flat in a heartbeat. She drags in a lungful of air and carefully pries her hand free from Sam’s grasp, too.
At the very least,hisfaltering confidence brings me a spoonful of satisfaction. Not a lot, but enough to keep me from being completely down in the dumps about pumping the brakes with Mercy.
Sam’s not getting any, either.
While Mercy steps away to check the crematorium and do whatever the fuck else morticians do before receiving a body, I grab Sam by the base of the neck and haul his ass out the front door. He slams into the back of his truck and growls at me.
Like I give a damn about his feelings. “Listen up, Samson fucking Wright?—”
Spinning around, he aims a punch at my jaw. I barely dodge in time, feeling thewhooshof air from the power behind it. Shit.That was close. My heart pumps harder, and I adjust my stance for a fight.
“You’re a dick!” Sam throws the words at me and squares his shoulders, resetting his posture as he lifts both fists like a boxer. I know he’s an athlete, but I didn’t realize they taught martial arts as an elective at the college. He continues to surprise me. “Where’d you learn to fight?”
The question throws him off for a half second. “What?”
“Your stance.” I widen mine and nod towards his feet. “It’s pretty.” He’s been taught good form, but he doesn’t have much experience or he wouldn’t leave his side open like that. He’s forgetting to tuck his elbows in. An idea pops into my head, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. “Wanna make this interesting?” It’s a stupid idea, and it goes against my attempt at restraint with Mercy, but fuck it.
Zane isn’t here. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.
Exasperated, Sam huffs. “Is all you do play games?”
“No.” How stupid would that be? I just like to have a little fun sometimes. “Are you in or not?” Excitement zings up my spine. He’ll take the bait for the right incentive. “The first man to hit the other, no blocks, gets to kiss Mercy while the other watches.” I lick my lips. “Tonight. While we burn the body.”
Yes, yes, yes! She’ll be trapped in the morgue with us all night. It’s the perfect chance to stoke Sam’s fury and make him do something stupid. Then I can kill the bastard, and Mercy might not hate me for it if I have just cause.
I tap the edge of Sam’s knuckles with my own while he stands there, glaring, and not taking this seriously enough. I’m being genuine. Yeah, I want Sam to suffer for what happened to Mercy earlier, but I’ll throw the man a bone for a little entertainment. “Second base,” I offer, trying to sweeten the deal. Or is it third base? I always get those fucking things confused. “Whatever, I want to eat her out.” It’s not fair that Zane fingered her and Samalready got a taste of that sweet pussy. When is it my fucking turn?
Tonight, I tell myself, quickly getting lost in the idea. Tonight is my fucking night. I’ve earned it. I saved Mercy’s life. Her virginity. Her dignity. A whole truck load of things. That was me—I’m the one who pulled her out of the fire.
And Sam’s the fucking one who lit the match.
I strike without thinking as my anger boils over. Sam dodges, sidestepping the hit, and tries to jab me in the ribs. I skid out of the way and look back at him to find that his demeanor has completely changed.
I’m suddenly standing in front of a different man.
Eyes narrowed, breaths even, completely in control of his body and emotions.
I guess I gave him the right incentive.
“What, you don’t like that?” I can’t keep the grin off my face as I try to rile him up. “I bet she’d moan so sweetly for me. Did you hook a finger inside of her last time, or will I get to be the first to hit her G-spot?”
Zane already had that honor, I’m sure, but Sam doesn’t have to know that.
A muscle in Sam’s jaw tics. “You’re fucking sick.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s all you ever say. Come up with something new.”
“She isn’t a piece of meat. You can’t just—” Sam’s face twists, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. “—chew her up and spit her back out.”
I might have done that a time or two with other partners in the past, but Mercy is different. I can feel it. That’s the real reason why Sam feels threatened by me—it’s not because I’m going to fuck her and walk away. It’s because I might stay a while. Enjoy her body. Enjoy hercompany. Just the two of uswithout an audience, my sweet Siren singing only for me to hear. All the while, she’ll fall hopelessly, madly in love with me?—
Zane’s face pops into my head as a memory surfaces, a bouquet of red roses clutched in his hands as he briefs me on one of our targets. Jasmine, her name was. The memory’s hazy, the details blurry, but I remember how he refused to smile that entire night. This wasn’t that long ago—maybe a year or two at most—and still, the signs were there. Frowning all the time. An increased number of migraines. Trouble sleeping. Each passing month made him more irritable than the last. He spent a few of our early years pretending to be invested in our kills, but the cracks in his facade were hard to miss. Even though he hasn’t vocally complained about handing me bouquets or feeding me romantic things to say for each of our targets, the signs were there. Have I been ignoring them? For how long? Why?
And what makes this time any different than the rest?
I know the answer lies with Mercy. She changed the game without even realizing she stepped onto the board. When I stopped Zane from killing her that night in the graveyard, our reality shifted. The board tilted in her favor. The systems Zane put in place to keep a safe distance from our targets stopped working. The original rules don’t make sense in a different landscape with new players—hell, withteams.Us versus them. Only…
