Page 60 of Burned in Stone
“That must have been terrifying.”
“It was. But it was also... I don’t know. Freedom, in a fucked-up way. No one hitting or using me for fun. No dealers using the apartment as a revolving door. No mom so high she didn’t recognize me.”
Mercy’s hand finds mine under the water, squeezing gently.
“Anyway, I did what a lot of rough sleepers do, and I was stealing to survive. Got pretty good at it too. But that night I picked thewrong target. Local dealer who didn’t appreciate losing his stash. Him and three buddies found me.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. They worked me over pretty good. Left me for dead. I was trying to crawl somewhere hidden to die when Bones found me.” I can still remember it—the pain, the cold, then this giant scarred biker crouching beside me, blowing out cigarette smoke and saying I was too pretty to die in garbage. “He threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. Brought me to the clubhouse.”
“Why?”
“Asked him that once. He said I reminded him of someone. Never told me who.” I rinse the conditioner from her hair slowly, running my fingers through and watching the water cascade down. “Maggie patched me up. Took me weeks to heal. And I remember that whole time, I was convinced it was going to be more of the same, you know? People taking what they wanted from me.” I feel Mercy tense against me, her hand tightening on mine.
And that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life, really—waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the people who say they care to show their true colors. With Mercy, I keep waiting for the moment she realizes I’m not worth the trouble Gabriel’s bringing. That I’m damaged goods. That the street kid with trauma and control issues isn’t what she signed up for.
But she’s still here. Still holding my hand. Still listening to the ugly parts without flinching.
Maybe that’s what love is—not just accepting someone’s past, but trusting them with your own.
“They didn’t take anything,” I continue, my voice rougher than I intend. “Nobody touched me. Nobody demanded anything. Maggie fussed over me like I was her kid. Bones checked in every day, brought me food. Stone gave me space to heal and then asked what I wanted to do next.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I wanted to stay. That I’d do anything—clean, cook, whatever they needed. I just didn’t want to go back out there.” I lean my head back against the tile.
“So they just... took you in?”
“I still had to prove myself. Started as a hang-around—Stone wouldn’t let me prospect until I went back to school and got my diploma. But after that, they let me prospect. Club essentially adopted a feral street kid and turned him into... this.” I gesture at myself.
Mercy turns again, this time straddling my lap in the water. Her hands cup my face. “They turned you into a good man.”
“Angel…” I reach up and wrap my hands around her wrists as my throat gets a little tight. “You know I’m not, right? I’m not a good man. Not by society’s standards, anyway.”
She shakes her head, water droplets sliding down her neck. “I don’t care about society’s standards. Society’s standards said I should stay with Gabriel becauseheseems like a good man on paper. To divorce a man like that is shameful. Society’s standards said I should be the perfect cop’s wife and smile through everything.” Her thumbs stroke my cheekbones. “You know what you are, Cash? You’re loyal. You’re protective. You take care of people who need it. You gave me a safe place when I had nowhere to go.”
“I was also pretty desperate to fuck you.” I smirk. “Still am. My motivations have always been far from pure where you’re concerned.”
She laughs, pressing her forehead to mine. “You think there was anything pure about me? I told you we should just be friends then proceeded to wear my shortest skirts and tightest shirts, knowing you’d keep pushing for more.” She shifts higher on my lap, so my cock slides between her legs. “Do you know how many times I went home and fucked myself into exhaustion because Iknewyou were outside my window? God, Cash, I could never get enough.”
My hands slide to her hips, gripping. “Angel, you can’t say shit like that when you’re naked and wet in my lap.”
I can feel her smile against my mouth. “Why not? It’s the truth.”
“Because I’m trying to be respectful here. Let you recover from the shitshow that was this morning.”
“What if I don’t want to recover?” Her hips rock forward, and I groan despite myself. “What if I want to forget for a while?”
My grip tightens on her hips, holding her still before I lose what little control I have left. “Mercy?—”
“Please.” She kisses along my jaw, my neck, finding that spot behind my ear that makes me shudder. “I need you. Just you. Nothing else.”
And fuck, when she puts it like that, how am I supposed to say no?
I surge up, capturing her mouth with mine as I lift her slightly, positioning myself at her entrance, and when I pull her down onto me, we both groan at the connection.
“Yes,” she breathes against my lips. “God, yes.”
