Paranzino’s eyes landed on Rissa for a split second before meeting his again. Asshole nodded, then winced. “Okay.”
Mercy was sure his face hurt. Good. At least he was still breathing, even if it was only from his mouth.
For now, he was done with the asshole. He squatted next to Rissa and cupped her cheek while searching her face. “You doing all right?”
“I’m ready to get out of here.”
Her voice sounded scratchy. Half-moons of faint purple colored the skin under her eyes, her lips looked dry and cracked. She was probably dehydrated. She’d been held by Nicco’s men for over eight hours. Which was eight fucking hours too long.
As she rubbed her wrists, he noticed the marks left behind from the rope that now laid on the ground next to her. He struggled to beat back the fury that bubbled up.
Patience.
Fucking patience.
Nicco was getting his.
Her captors got theirs.
Paranzino would pay.
Her legs were curled underneath her, making it easy to wrap his arms around her to pick her up.
Lift with the knees.
She was not a woman who, in any way, could be described “as light as a feather.” But for fuck’s sake, he was carrying her the fuck out of those woods even if it crippled him.
“Hang on,” he grunted.
“You can put me down. I think I can walk.”
The exhaustion in her voice made his gut twist. He wasn’t going to argue with her. “Arms around my neck.”
“Ryan,” she whispered. “My pants. I—”
He quickly cut her off. “Don’t give a shit about that.” She didn’t need to say it, he knew what she was talking about. “Arms around my neck.”
“I’m too heavy.”
“Arms around my fucking neck, woman.” His control was beginning to fray and he needed to rein it back in. But he couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest, the scrambled thoughts invading his brain. The woman in his arms. Her situation. The possibility that she could have been killed, or worse, kept alive and been abused so badly she’d have a difficult time recovering.
All of that ate at his insides like acid, settled like cement in his bones. The fury burned so deeply that he was struggling to contain the storm that was building by the second.
He needed to concentrate on her. He needed to get her somewhere safe. He needed to finish this mission before letting the darkness overtake him. Before seeking relief of the tension he was feeling that went beyond a simple fuck or a session with a punching bag. Before the only thing that would right his tilted world was doing something very ugly.
“I was scared you were dead.” Her words made his chest tighten.
Ditto. “Hard to kill me. No matter how many times anyone tries.”
A sob caused her body to hiccup in his arms and he finally glanced down at her. He’d been avoiding that, meeting her gaze. Really looking at her. Seeing her. Who she was. What she meant to him.
Because the thought of losing her...
He’d never been afraid of much. But that thought...
That fucking fear...
Was the strongest he’d ever felt in his life. And he’d been in some precarious hair-raising, ball-shriveling situations.
The lone tear forging a path down her streaked cheek tugged at something deep inside him. It pulled at that frayed thread which threatened to send him spinning like a top.
“Damn these tears!” she exploded, swiping frantically at them.
“Rissa, you’re allowed to be upset. Arms around my neck,” he reminded her more softly this time.
When her arms squeezed him tighter and she buried her damp face in his neck, he almost fell to his knees right there in the thick of the woods, ripped his heart out of his chest and handed it to her. Even though it was black and withered, it was something he could give her, if nothing else.
For a long time, it had only beat to keep him alive.
Now, after barely a week, it beat for her.
He didn’t know how that fucking happened.
But it did.
Apparently, the barriers he had put up for good reason had been breached.
Now, he needed to decide whether he should keep up the good fight. Or acknowledge defeat.
His face had been painted with greens and browns to match the camo-patterned military-style clothing he wore. He had a holstered handgun on one hip and a large sheathed knife on the other, making him look savage when he had made his way to her. She had wanted to rise and run to him with relief that he was alive. But her arms and legs wouldn’t cooperate due to cramping and the severe pain as the circulation slowly returned.
Instead, she was resigned to wait for him to come to her.
Even though she could only see clearly out of one eye due to her lost contact lens, the air around them had been full of Mercy’s barely contained rage.
She could see it in his eyes, his face, his body language.
And as much as she loved Michael, she had cheered a little inside when Mercy had broken his nose. He deserved it for everything that had happened.
If she hadn’t been there, she figured Michael would have more than a crushed, bleeding nose. He’d be dead. Mercy left him in that clearing and, as he carried her away, yelled over his shoulder that someone would be back to get him.
She was pretty sure it wouldn’t be Mercy.
She felt terrible that he had to carry her for what seemed like a mile. Finally, the narrow path had ended at another clearing where his vehicle was waiting. He had gently placed her on the passenger seat and dug out a first aid kit. After carefully cleaning her cut and closing it with two small butterfly bandages, he buckled her in as if she was helpless and without a word drove her to a place other than the previous two she’d been at since arriving in Shadow Valley.
This time it was an unassuming older Cape Cod-style house in the country. What was weird was an old minivan was parked in the driveway, children’s toys scattered in the front yard and a swing set sat empty behind the house.
After parking his vehicle next to his Harley in the unattached garage, he came around to carry her but she had insisted she could now walk on her own. Ignoring her protests, he still assisted her out of the vehicle and into the house.
The inside was a total juxtapose of the outside. The interior was sparse and there were no signs of a family living there, especially children.
When she had stated, “This is your place,” she only received a grunt in answer.
It only made sense that he’d pick a home that looked deceiving. To anyone driving by, it looked like a young family lived there, not a man like Mercy.
She spied her bags sitting by the front door and wanted to cry with relief. She needed to shower and not only wash off the dried blood, but peel off her soiled pants. She could hardly stand the smell of herself and poor Mercy had been subjected to that stink from the moment he had lifted her into his arms all the way until now.
When she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, she noticed he stood in the curved, open entryway between the small kitchen and the living room, staring at her. He quickly shuttered his expression.
His chest expanded as he took a deep breath and said in a tight, low voice, “Diesel dropped your shit off. Sure you’re anxious to get cleaned up. There’s some food in the kitchen. Not a great selection, but you need to eat something. Drink lots of fluids. Got some sports drink in the fridge. Besides water, want you to drink at least two of them before I get back.”
Emotionless orders. Rules. Nothing more.
She turned to face him. “Where are you going?”
“Gotta finish what we started. Need to meet up with the rest of the team. Also deal with Paranzino.”
Every muscle in her body tensed. “Don’t kill him.” She was pissed at him, yes, but she still loved Michael. No matter what, he was her friend and she didn’t want him dead. Joshua would be devastated and lost without him.
And th
ough she hated to admit it, she might be, too. Besides Londyn, he was her only family.
Mercy’s eyes got more intense than normal. “He did you wrong, Rissa.”
He did. But that didn’t mean he deserved a death sentence.
“I know. He was only shielding me from the ugly side of his success. But even from what you said, he was trying to help men and women living and working on the streets who’d been abused. While his solution wasn’t much better, it improved their lives in some ways. He also gave them a choice to get out of the life after giving them a hand-up.”
“Don’t go soft on what he got you involved in.”
She wasn’t. She had a lot to think about. Even so, she had some responsibility on how certain things went down. “I did it, Ryan. I created the problem when I stumbled across what I did by accident. He didn’t put me in that situation. Even worse, I did it again when I went against your orders and texted my sister. Some of the blame belongs on my shoulders.”
“You wouldn’t have stumbled across anything if he hadn’t been involved in the shit he was. By keeping the truth from you, he put you in that position against your knowledge. If it wasn’t for that, you never would have been in Shadow Valley in the first place to go against my orders. Think on that, Rissa. It all stems back from Paranzino keeping secrets.”
She studied the tall man who, at the same time, stood so close but yet so far. The distance between them seemed daunting.
“We all have secrets,” she whispered.
Mercy’s jaw jutted out as he closed his eyes and curled his fingers into fists at his side.
When he finally opened them, they were once again cold, lifeless. He was Mercy, not the Ryan she had discovered in the past few days.
She nodded at the change within him. Understood it. He had put up his wall. Shut her out.
He had no right to judge anyone for keeping secrets.
“Diesel’s sending two of his club brothers over here to keep an eye on things while I’m gone.” All business. Steeled emotions.
Disappointment swept through her. “By things you mean me.”
“Yeah, you. Wanna make sure there’s no more threat before sending you home.”
Home.
“Dawg’s knowledgeable with weapons. Slade’s a former Marine and a skilled fighter. They’re two men I would trust at my back on any given day. You’ll be safe here with them until I know things will be safe for you elsewhere.”
Elsewhere. Meaning Vegas. Thousands of miles from Shadow Valley and the man who stood stiffly before her, not letting anything that burned deep within him be visible.
She knew it was there, buried. He didn’t want to recognize or reveal it. He mistakenly thought that would make him weak.
“How long do you think that will take?”
“Depends on the answers we get from Paranzino and one of Nicco’s men that we have in our custody.”
“When can I speak to my sister?”
“When we know you both are safe.”
Of course. That made perfect sense. Parris nodded and turned away.
“That means you don’t contact her until I tell you, Rissa. You need to listen this time.”
More rules. More orders. Things he needed to help him function.
“I know. I will.” She let her gaze bounce around the room, anything to avoid looking at him, because if she did, she was afraid she’d break down. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. At this moment, she needed to keep her emotions in check. Like him. “When will you be back?”
The hesitation before he answered was telling. He wouldn’t. “When I know you and your sister are safe.”
“But you’ll be back before I head home?”
There was that word again. Home.
It gave her both comfort and anxiety. She needed to go back to everything she knew, everything she’d built, but she also didn’t want to leave behind the one thing she’d recently discovered.
And while she had come to care for him in the short amount of time she’d known him, she also knew once she was safe and he had his bonus padding his bank account, he’d forget all about her. He’d move on to his next “job.” His next paycheck.
Because, she needed to remind herself, that was all she was. His job.
That was cemented when he didn’t answer her.
Jobs were clean, neat, easy to handle. They had a start and a finish.
Relationships were messy.
With disappointment coloring her thoughts, she grabbed one of her bags by the door and headed up the stairway that rose through the center of the house to where she assumed the bedrooms and the main bathroom were.
As the water pelted her in the shower, she sat at the bottom of the tub with her arms wrapped around her knees as she cried until the hot water ran cold. Until she felt hollow and numb.
When she was done feeling sorry for herself, she forced herself to towel off, blow dry her hair, and get dressed in clean clothes before heading back downstairs to do what Mercy ordered. He was right. She needed to get something to eat, something to drink. Maybe after she did so, she’d feel better. Maybe it would fill the pit in her stomach.
But when she had finally pulled herself together enough to go downstairs, she discovered what she already expected. He was gone. In his place were two large men, tattooed bikers, standing in the kitchen talking. One had a thick beard, the other had short military-short hair like Mercy’s. Both wore black leather vests that declared them a part of the Dirty Angels MC. After introductions, they both watched her quietly as she numbly moved around the kitchen that felt even tinier with them in it to make a sandwich she didn’t taste and sip on a sports drink that made her want to vomit, all in order to replenish her body.
While they were friendly enough, the two men keeping her company, keeping her safe, weren’t who she wanted to spend her evening with.
They were still there when she finally went back upstairs to curl up in Mercy’s bed and eventually fall into a fitful sleep.
In the morning, when she woke up, he still hadn’t returned. Instead, she was told to gather her things.
It was time for her to head home.
Chapter Seventeen
Mercy watched as Diesel drove his classic GTO away from the house with Rissa and her luggage inside. His boss was taking her to the airport to send her home.
Where she belonged.
Once he could no longer see the old muscle car, he put his RPV in drive and pulled out of the spot where he had parked to stay out of sight.
He didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to see her before she left.
It might make things harder when he tried to eradicate her from his thoughts. His life. Somehow in the short amount of time he’d known her, she had found that crack in his armor and had wiggled her way inside.
She was about to hitch a ride back on the asshole’s jet. He’d reminded Paranzino that once they returned to Vegas, he was to sever all ties with Rissa. He was also to wire money into her account immediately and send Mercy the proof once he did so.
Paranzino’s dirty dealings were going to cost the man a fuckload of cash between D’s fee, Mercy’s hefty bonus, the rest of his team’s bonuses and Rissa’s “pain and suffering” compensation.
However, Mercy was pretty sure it wouldn’t be much of a financial hit for the man. Maybe he should have insisted Rissa get ten million. Make the asshole feel it a little more. But she’d probably balk with the one mil she was slated to get, even though she deserved every red cent and more.
After parking his vehicle in the garage, he made his way into the house and threw his keys on the counter. It was weird to see dishes drying in the drain pan and items in the trash and recycle bins. He tried to imagine coming home to that sight every day.
Like someone actually lived there.
When he’d checked in with Dawg last night, the DAMC member had stated when Rissa came back downstairs after taking a longer than normal shower, her eyes had been red and swollen
.
Which meant the day had finally caught up with her.
Even so, he was still proud of her. She had remained strong when she needed to be. She had every right to break down once the threat had passed.
However, the threat was now officially dealt with. He and the rest of the Shadows had gone back out into the woods once darkness hit so they could remove bodies and cover their tracks. Once he told his team about the bonuses they’d be getting for their assistance, Mercy swore they were kicking up their heels and whistling while they worked like Disney dwarves.
Now, he was alone. His house quiet. Rissa gone.
When they first met, he couldn’t wait for her to shut the fuck up. So it surprised him to find he actually missed her voice, her constant chattering, even when he didn’t respond.
Her conversations, though most times one-sided, had filled his brain matter with something other than the darkness that usually sat on the outer edge of his mind. He kept telling himself that fucking her had been a mistake. A step into that unescapable quicksand he’d been carefully avoiding. But in reality, every time he had laid between her sweet, soft thighs, every time he’d been inside her wet heat, he’d let her inside of him, too. It was dangerous and at first he fought it, but then she became an addiction he didn’t want to quit.
Going cold turkey was best for her, best for him. She needed to return to her life where she belonged. Only, she needed to find a new bestie. If it was up to him, a woman this time. One that met her for a martini in the evening, went with her to see a chick flick, was her sounding board when the latest guy Rissa had been dating turned out to be a real dick.
She didn’t need to be friends with a man who made insane amounts of money with illegal brothels, as well as legal casinos used for money laundering.
He set his house alarm, kicked off his boots and hoofed it upstairs, stripping off his camo gear as he went, not caring where it landed. Exhaustion pulled at him. For once he might be able to sleep a full night.
Guts & Glory: Mercy (In the Shadows Security Book 1) Page 19
