Running on Empty (Havoc Motorcycle Club Book 3)

by SE Jakes

  As if Vann sensed Linc’s sudden change of mood, he passed him a shot and took one of his own, clinking their glasses together. Then Vann’s arm went around his chair, like he was shielding him. “You don’t have to leave till you’re ready. No one’s getting through me.”

  “You said you’re not babysitting me.”

  “I’m not. But I know what happened. Just letting you know that I’ve got your back.” He ran his knuckles along Linc’s cheek and a sudden flare of desire burned in Linc’s belly. It was the first time he’d actually felt it since his escape, and it was nice to know he was still capable of it.

  He wished he could get Mercy off his mind, but the man next to him was a great diversion, and a hell of a good time. The old Linc would’ve already kissed him.

  The new Linc? Still way too hesitant.

  Boomer had his truck with him, and sometime after two in the morning, he loaded Linc and Vann’s bikes inside and drove them back to the lake house.

  Vann unloaded the bikes in the driveway, and Boomer drove away with a wave.

  “Aren’t you going back to Havoc?” Linc asked.

  Vann shook his head. “I’m on duty till sun up.”

  “Want to come in?”

  Vann smiled. “Ah, babe . . . yeah, I do. But I’ll wait at the end of the drive, like I’m supposed to.”

  Fuck, it was nice to be wanted.

  “Hey Linc? There’s one thing you need to know—and maybe you do already. But when an MC man saves you . . . you’re his. Until he’s done with you. And Havoc men? They don’t take that lightly. Mercy won’t.”

  Linc let that swim around in his alcohol-addled brain and decided to pretend he hadn’t heard it. “Thanks . . . for tonight. It helped.”

  “I’m glad.” Vann turned to go.

  “Vann?”

  “Yeah?” Vann looked over his shoulder from his seat on the bike.

  “Can we do it again?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Tomorrow night?” Linc hedged.

  Vann laughed—which Linc took as a yes—then raised a hand and roared the bike the half mile to the end of the drive, just outside the gate.

  Linc stayed where he was for a long moment, the happy buzz still making him floaty. Then he remembered what Rush told him, about Mercy spending the night here.

  Did Vann know that happened too?

  Now, Linc stood and reached for the blanket that was always folded up on the porch chair. It smelled like Mercy, and for a long moment, he rubbed his face against it, then he folded it and left it there.

  That night, he slept on the couch on the other side of the wall, with a hand pressed against the wall, because that was the closest he could get to Mercy.

  Pathetic.

  Flirting with Vann. Jerking off to Mercy. Spinning out of control. But if it got him closer to Mercy, closer to healing?

  He’d fucking keep spinning.

  Of course Mercy knew that Linc was sneaking out and heading to Bertha’s. It was probably the worst kept secret ever, but hell, Linc seemed to be enjoying himself for the first time in a long time.

  It worried Mercy that Linc was out and about—vulnerable—but he’d let that go, assuming that Linc would grow tired of going out on a nightly basis.

  After four nights, he still hadn’t.

  And each and every one of those nights, Mercy wanted nothing more than to go to Bertha’s in order to haul Linc’s ass home and chain him someplace safe . . . like his bed.

  But that would be ridiculous. Instead, he did his patrols and then he went to the lake house.

  Tonight, the fifth night of Linc’s merry evade and escape, Mercy had gotten the text that Linc was home, safe and sound, around two in the morning. Mercy arrived soon after, parked outside the gate of the lake house and headed to the porch—as usual. When he was maybe fifteen feet away, he saw Linc just standing on the porch. Mercy froze in place, although he was certain Linc knew he was out here.

  Linc was already shirtless in the moonlight, sitting on the couch that Mercy slept on. Then he stood, lowered his sweats enough to free his cock and began to jerk himself off and damn, the boy looked fine. Gorgeous.

  “You little son of a bitch,” Mercy murmured with a smile. Because whatever Linc had gotten into tonight at Bertha’s obviously hadn’t tamped down his want of Mercy . . . and Mercy was grateful for that.

  Mercy wanted to finish the job for him, push him down under that beautiful spill of moonlight and take him, fast, then slow, until they were both spent. Instead, he watched, his own cock a hard throb in his jeans as Linc spilled over this hand, shot up his chest and cried out loud enough so Mercy could hear it. And then Linc leveled his gaze up, as if meeting Mercy’s eyes, and it literally took everything Mercy had not to go to him, to answer the call of the gorgeous taunt. To take him down in the soft moonlight.

  But neither man was ready for that, as evidenced by the fact that, after several long moments, Linc stood and went inside, closing the door behind him. Linc’s show would have to be enough for now.

  Linc was crying out for his attention. Mercy was giving it to him, in the best way he could right now. Because it was too soon—much too soon—or so he thought. He hadn’t known how to reach Linc, exactly, and the walls between them were so much more than symbolic.

  It was time for Mercy to bring the walls down between them, to find out who the man visiting Linc was . . . and why Linc had known Jethro was undercover before Bram had. It might be as simple as Rush telling him so, but Mercy had other suspicions. There were missing pieces he was struggling to put together, on top of the soul-crushing guilt he bore at knowing another man in his life had gotten hurt because of him . . . and his association with the Heathens.

  Yes, tomorrow, things were changing.

  When Mercy got to church the next afternoon, Vann was waiting for him.

  “Why aren’t you taking care of him?” Vann demanded, with no preamble.

  “Who?” Mercy asked, the anger building inside of him. He was already on edge after a mostly restless sleep that consisted of imagining Linc on the other side of the wall, and if that wasn’t the perfect metaphor for what was happening between them, he didn’t know what was.

  Vann rolled his eyes. “You haven’t touched him. And Linc needs to be touched.”

  Mercy grit his teeth. “We’re not together.”

  “Because you refuse to fuck him.”

  “You have no idea—”

  “I know what he went through. I know some might not need touching. But Linc? He needs it to feel whole. And if it’s not going to be from you . . .”

  “Then you’ll step in?”

  “I’d never do that to a club brother,” Vann said seriously. “But he’s going to find someone else. I’m just trying to keep him close.”

  Mercy leaned against the doorjamb. “I came here to talk about that with everyone. I’ve been giving him too much freedom.”

  “So you’re not going to let him go out?”

  “I didn’t say that. But everyone needs to know that he’s mine. And above all else, he needs to know that.”

  “I’m guessing you’ve got a plan.”

  For the first time in a long time, Mercy definitely did. And when he went inside and sat at the table with Sweet, Tug, Ryker, Boomer, and Vann, he announced with finality, “It’s time to take Linc in hand.”

  “Thank Christ,” Sweet muttered, and Mercy couldn’t blame him. So far, in his five-day spree, Linc had managed to rope Vann, Tug, Boomer and, of course, Rush—and Noah and Casey—into his merry reign of terror crossed over with evade and escape. God might’ve created the world in seven days, but Linc was threatening to bring down two MCs in a far shorter timeframe, all with the help of tequila.

  And no one was complaining, except Mercy.

  And now, Sweet. Although he’d been smiling every time someone caught him up on Linc’s escapades. Because Linc.

  “It hasn’t been that bad,” Tug protested.

  “You we
re singing ‘I’ve Got You Babe’ with Vann,” Sweet pointed out.

  “Vann took Cher’s part,” Tug protested, like that made it better.

  Vann? Just smiled.

  Mercy turned to Sweet. “How did you know about the singing?” Sweet’s brows rose in feigned innocence and Tug failed to hide his laugh. “Christ, not you too.”

  “It’s definitely time to circle the wagons,” Sweet said definitively, forcing his expression serious. “Listen, I’m hearing chatter from the docks. Project X has been sniffing around.”

  Mercy had been the one to find out that particular bit of intel, just last night, so he all around agreed that time was of the essence.

  After church business wrapped up, he stayed behind to clarify additional things with Sweet. “I’ve made some decisions about the shop. I’m thinking Linc should run it.”

  “Linc?”

  Mercy looked at him, unblinking. “Yes.”

  “Shouldn’t it be Linc’s decision?”

  “No. It should be yours. And mine.” Mercy paused. “And the clause? I’m invoking it. In case ‘taking him in hand’ wasn’t clear enough.”

  “Okay. Formally noted. It’s well within your right,” Sweet agreed. “Is there more?”

  Yes, there was more. It was time for Mercy to get off his ass, once and for all, and make sure this never happened again. “Once last thing . . . no more hiding.”

  Sweet narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you think you’ve been doing?”

  “It was always a big game of chicken—I knew it and so did Bones. Lying that way made it impossible. What happened was only a matter of time. Everyone should’ve known who I was, and then they could’ve chosen whether they wanted to be a part of the danger I brought here.”

  “Putting it out there would’ve started a war, and one that would’ve had a hell of a lot of casualties. You know that. You made a hell of a sacrifice.”

  “I didn’t sacrifice shit. Linc? He’s the one who paid. Linc and David.” Mercy shook his head. “It’s out there now. I’ll make it my life’s work to dismantle the Heathens.”

  “No!” Sweet ordered. “You’ll make it your life’s work to defend and strengthen Havoc. Make sure no one touches our members and their families. You can’t save the world, Mercy—you can only defend your piece of it. Your land, your people . . . and do no harm to those who don’t harm you.”

  Mercy clenched his teeth. “I can do both, Sweet. You just watch me.”

  “At what cost to yourself?”

  Mercy grunted in response and waved Sweet off from asking anything further. His mind was made up, and the first thing he’d do was to get Linc’s ass into the Havoc compound . . . and keep him there.

  The nights out had allowed Linc to sleep better than he had in months. The nightmares were muted, and last night, it was simply a dream about Mercy that had him waking with his cock in hand, hard and unsatisfied.

  A dream about their first time together . . . a memory that was imprinted on Linc so strongly that even amnesia wouldn’t erase it.

  The bar fight started innocently enough. Rush and Noah had been there with him at Bertha’s and, of course, tequila had been along for the ride.

  Tequila fueled his not-so-bad decision that night, when Mercy walked into Bertha’s and then left after half an hour without making any sort of eye contact with him. And Linc had tried to get his attention. Tried like hell, and had succeeded in getting a lot of attention from everyone except the one person he’d been trying to attract.

  He needed a more direct approach, and getting arrested so Mercy could post his bond seemed so logical. He didn’t tell Rush or Noah his plan because he figured they wouldn’t recognize genius when they heard it. Instead, he bumped into a couple of guys walking through the bar and then told them to fuck off because guys were so goddamned easy and testosterone-fueled to start with—add alcohol and pretty girls and they were more than eager to start throwing punches. Which was exactly what had happened.

  Except Linc wiped the floor with them and then he’d fought the bouncers when they’d tried to help. Even Rush couldn’t get them to not call the police, and his friend had tried. But Rush promised him that he’d get bail.

  “Call Mercy—don’t use your own money, man,” Linc told him.

  “That’ll probably be faster,” Rush agreed. “No matter what, I’ll get you out.”

  The cops were decent to him, mainly because he’d calmed down as soon as they came, and he was respectful because it wasn’t their fault. They were just doing their job, and he’d been chagrined.

  He hadn’t even used his phone call, because by the time he’d been booked and put in a cell, Mercy was there in person to free him.

  And Linc? For the first time in his life, he’d felt slightly shy when the big man with the tattoos and easy-going attitude led him out of the station and toward his waiting SUV. He opened Linc’s door for him, but Linc forced himself to shake off his shyness, and leaned in toward Mercy.

  “Thanks for bailing me out.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “Still, you didn’t have to come all the way down here just for me. I know Rush called in a favor.”

  Mercy looked amused. “He did.”

  “Maybe I can make it worth your while.”

  “Yeah?” Mercy’s brows rose. “How’re you going to do that?”

  Linc smiled, still slightly drunk and all too fucking happy for someone who’d been arrested. “We could take it out in trade.”

  “Do you have it in you?”

  By then Linc had been running his finger along Mercy’s chiseled biceps, tracing the Havoc logo he knew was hidden under the long-sleeved Henley. “More than.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “Consider this my audition.” Because Mercy’s big, warm palm was touching his skin, and Linc wanted to kneel at the man’s feet and do anything he ordered. His mind went blank, because Mercy chuckled and turned him around to face the car door . . .

  And that’s when Linc heard the clink of handcuffs behind him. Before he could say anything, Mercy had one of his arms behind his back and Linc felt the cold steel circle his wrist. “And here I thought I was a free man.”

  “You’re not,” Mercy murmured. “There’s always a price to pay.”

  “So we’re working it out in trade?”

  Mercy tugged his other hand behind his back and Linc’s hands were cuffed together. Mercy turned him and began unbuttoning his shirt, stroking along Linc’s bare chest. “Yeah, we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

  He’d helped Linc into the SUV, driven to the bonds shop, and walked Linc upstairs to the apartment that was housed above it. Before Linc could say anything else, Mercy had stripped him, uncuffing his wrists for a moment to take his shirt completely off.

  And then Mercy was kissing him—or maybe he’d leaned in to kiss Mercy first, but it didn’t matter, because the kiss was explosive. Their tongues dueled for dominance, and he was all too happy to let Mercy win, because he was the best kisser Linc had ever known, and hell, he’d been kissed a lot.

  Mercy grabbed his hair to hold him in place while he tongue-fucked his mouth, slid his hand down to Linc’s ass and let his fingers play between Linc’s ass cheeks as he groaned into Mercy’s mouth.

  Then Mercy was biting along his neck and shoulders, palming his cock, and Linc was mumbling about “wanting you naked and inside me now” and Mercy was laughing and finally—finally—Mercy had noticed him. Linc basked in the attention, because it was like being warmed by the sun. He ran his hands all over Mercy’s chest and shoulders, smelling the leather he wore under his cut and trying to tug Mercy’s clothing off, but Mercy told him, “You’re not the one in control here.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “Good thing” was all Mercy said, and then Linc was once again bound, hands behind his back, his forehead pressed to the mattress, ass in the air.

  “Is this what you expected tonight?” Mercy asked from behin
d him.

  Linc bit his tongue because maybe expected wasn’t the right word—hoped for, fantasized about, yes, but expected? No, he’d never thought the reality would actually be better than the fantasy.

  When he’d first laid eyes on the blond-haired, tattooed biker, he’d known. There was something about the way Mercy moved, the tone of his voice, the way he gave orders that showed exactly how he’d be in bed.

  “I asked a question, baby.” Mercy ran a warm palm down Linc’s bare back, cupping his ass cheek. “Expect an answer.”

  And then he slapped Linc’s ass, the sound ringing through the room, the smack of pain causing Linc to hiss out a breath. “Yes.”

  “You wanted to be bound and helpless on the bed in front of me?”

  Another smack, another glorious bite of pain. “Yes,” Linc managed, and was rewarded with several more smacks. “Wanted . . . you.”

  And then fuck, Mercy’s tongue was everywhere—trailing down his spine, licking his hole, filling him, sucking him until Linc was writhing—or trying to, since Mercy held firm onto his hips—and begging. Loudly.

  That only seemed to fuel Mercy on more. He took his time readying Linc’s ass, kept his face buried, teasing with his mouth and his hands, putting fingers inside of him and then playing with this cock, bringing him to the edge and then pulling back.

  And all the while, Linc repeated “Mercy” and “yes” and “please” like a chant, a prayer, a promise needing to be kept . . . until finally, he heard the rip of the condom wrapper and then felt Mercy’s cock nudge between his cheeks. He used Linc’s shoulder for leverage and pushed forward, and Linc’s eyes watered, because there was always pain, no matter how well Mercy had played with him. That was part of the game, part of his need . . . part of the fun.

  Then Mercy’s crown was inside of him and from there, Mercy pressed forward in one long stroke, bottoming out. Linc stilled for a moment, and Mercy did too . . . rubbing Linc’s lower back, murmuring, “pretty boy” and “so good” and “so fucking tight,” and then Linc was writhing back against him, trying to tug his wrists apart because he needed to hold Mercy. A need so great he didn’t understand where it came from.