by SE Jakes
“Ryker already told me before I left that the Kill Devils are coming to take over Heathens. Trying to patch them in. Take over the drug trade and make it bigger and better.”
Linc nodded, then put his head back and closed his eyes. To him, Rush’s driving was sure and fast. Soothing even.
Rush sighed. “Mercy’s not kidding about laying down the law with this. None of them are.”
“Figured that.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be allowed at Bertha’s—we both know that.”
“So you’re not going to get in trouble for this?” Linc asked.
“Of course I am. So what else’s new?”
Linc snorted. “Ditto.”
“So, you have fun tonight?” Rush asked cautiously, his subtle way of feeling Linc out about the Mercy-cheating thing. It’s not like it wasn’t on his mind, but knowing it and talking about it were two different things entirely.
Was it considered cheating if Mercy thought Linc had left him? It was a hard thing to wrestle with, considering where Linc had been during that time.
Still, he answered honestly with, “It was a good time.”
Would’ve been better still if he wasn’t forcing himself not to panic about Project X and Heathens, because panic wouldn’t solve shit. Talking to Castle about it? That just might.
“You and Vann had fun.” Rush shot him a side glance.
“Is there a question there?”
“C’mon, Linc—spill.”
“He’s not going to touch me. Havoc rules.”
“But those don’t apply to kissing Jethro.”
“Fucking Christ—Havoc is worse than a hen party.” Linc shook his head. “For the record, Jethro kissed me.”
“But you didn’t stop him,” Rush pointed out.
“No, I didn’t. And why do you ask questions you already know the answers to?”
“I learned it by watching you.” Rush cackled. “But seriously . . . do you want it to get back to Mercy?”
“What I want in relation to Mercy doesn’t seem to matter.”
“Sorry, man.” Rush looked concerned. “But he’s gonna flip when he finds out.”
“Good. Let him.”
“I think . . . he’s trying to do the right thing?”
“Did Ryker tell you to say that?”
“Ryker explained that he claimed me too. I just didn’t realize it.”
“You and Ryker were totally different, man.” Linc rubbed his forehead. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Need me as your alibi?” Rush asked as they entered Havoc, with a wave to the men at the gate as they breezed by.
“Nah, I’m sneaking in,” Linc assured him. “Might as well let him think I’m doing what he’s wanting me to do.”
Rush sighed. “You never used to be this stubborn.”
“Shit changes.”
“I know, Linc. I do.” Rush glanced over at him, looking so damned concerned in the low light on the dash as the car continued to barrel along the Havoc roads. They were close now. “Tell me what’s going through your head. Please. I want to help.”
Linc didn’t want anyone inside his head. “It’s cool, Rush. Swear. I’m just frustrated, that’s all.”
Rush rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Linc snuck in craftily and silently. Rush had offered to text Mercy to say that Linc was staying with him that night, but hell, they’d both already pushed their luck.
It’s not like Rush wasn’t under the same kind of orders as Linc. Rush wasn’t exactly a probie member, but he was still being protected as if he were. Which meant Havoc thought he was vulnerable as hell.
It was part of the reason he’d jumped at Castle’s job offer in the first place—after being watched over by Bram all those years, Linc realized that, at some point, he’d have to take over for himself. The Army had helped with that, but Castle’s training had tipped it over the edge.
Finally, Linc was inside, shoes off, padding silently through the house.
The empty house, because after all that sneaking, Mercy wasn’t even home. The bed hadn’t been slept in, Linc’s water was still on the counter exactly where he’d left it, and nothing else had been bothered. There was no note, no message on Linc’s phone. Nothing.
It was two in the morning, and while it seemed ridiculous (okay, it was) for Linc to be pissed at him for not being there . . . Linc was.
He sat on the couch. Texted Rush to ask if Ryker was home and got a disgruntled No. WTF text in response.
Club business?
Who knows? was Rush’s reply. But Rush knew Ryker was coming home to him. For him.
Linc was just some kind of transient, owned, money-owing guest. He called Bram, who answered groggily, “What’s wrong?”
“You’re old, that’s what. Two in the morning on a Saturday, you should be up and out. Or at least fucking someone,” Linc told him sourly.
Bram sighed. “Linc, do you need me to come over?”
“No, forget it,” he sighed, especially after hearing rustling in the background and Sweet’s deep voice rumbling.
“Sure?”
“Yeah. It’s just . . . Mercy’s not home.”
“Oh.” More rustling and Linc rolled his eyes as he pictured his brother and Sweet mouthing this conversation to each other.
“It’s nothing. I was just hoping he . . . I mean, everything was okay. I didn’t know if it was club business.” He paused. “Forget it. God, I’m pathetic.”
“I’m coming over.”
“No.”
“With food. Give me twenty.” Bram hung up, and, in response, Linc’s stomach growled.
“Asshole,” he told it.
Bram was as good as his word, bringing in burgers, fries, and shakes from the diner and walking in without knocking. He assessed Linc with a quick once-over, and Linc had long ago stopped trying to hide things from his brother—at least not too hard.
But Bram kept the conversation light until the food was unpacked and they’d sat down. It was only once they’d started eating that he told Linc, “Mercy kept your concert shirt . . . until I stole it back.”
He reached into another bag he’d brought in that Linc hadn’t noticed and tossed the shirt over.
“I was wondering where it went to.” He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until he felt the soft as anything fabric. It was a Motörhead T-shirt, old as fuck, perfectly broken in. It’d been from Linc’s first concert. Bram had taken him, and this shirt represented all the good things in Linc’s life. His talisman.
“I had it when we were looking for you,” Bram admitted. “Mercy left it for me when I first came to Havoc. He used it as proof that I was who I said I was.”
Linc frowned. “Like a test?”
Bram nodded. “We got into a fight about it. I might’ve punched him. A few times.”
“Would’ve paid to see that.”
“He was hurting. Bad. I didn’t see it at the time. Actually, not until that night. I accused him of sitting on his ass and he . . .” Bram shook his head. “He was hurt. I know he should’ve looked for you but . . . he really thought you’d just up and left him.”
Linc’s face felt hot, and he immediately lost his appetite. He took a deep swallow of the fountain soda, played with the straw to avoid answering. Problem was, it didn’t stop him from feeling.
“Linc? Talk to me.”
But Linc didn’t know what the hell to say. The Heathens had been after him for revenge against Mercy, and they would’ve found him no matter what. But for now, it sounded like it was all a big misunderstanding. That’d be fine and easy enough to fix if what happened hadn’t happened. But it had. He’d been attacked because they knew he belonged to Mercy. And Mercy hadn’t come to get him for the exact opposite reason—because he didn’t think Linc thought of himself as his. Beyond that . . .
�
�There are a lot of secrets,” he told Bram. “Mainly Mercy’s. And they’re not secrets anymore, but they came out because of me, and I swear he’s pissed about that.”
Bram didn’t tell him that he was wrong or crazy—he never did that. Linc might drive him crazy on a regular basis, but Bram always allowed him to express his feelings without fear. He’d make a great dad. He really would. Even still slightly messed up—because PTSD didn’t just go away—Bram gave the best advice. “I don’t know what to do, Bram.”
“He’s got you here.”
“Because it’s protocol. A way to keep me safe so he doesn’t need to feel any guiltier. I refuse to be anyone’s guilt trip.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Not sure I want to hear the answer. Besides, you’re the one who always told me not to ask a question I didn’t already know the answer to.”
“Actually, it was ‘don’t meet someone you don’t already know,’ but it’s nice to know you listen. And I’m sorry you’re feeling shitty. Do you want me to talk to Mercy—”
“Fuck no. God. No.”
Bram laughed. “Just checking. Hey, I’d be subtle.”
“As a train wreck. I just think there’s too much between us. Sometimes that makes things unfixable.”
“I think it’s too soon to give up.”
Linc changed the subject. “Are you going to stay in the ATF?”
“In light of what’s happening with the Kill Devils and Heathens . . . I could do something like Jethro.”
“Yeah. But Casey doesn’t rush off to save Jethro. I’m not sure Sweet can say the same thing.”
Bram pointed at him as he chewed. His way of saying point taken.
“Jethro says I’d be good at undercover work,” Linc said casually, sending out feelers, but Bram half choked just the same.
“I will kill that fucker.”
“You don’t think I’d be good?”
“I didn’t say that.” Bram stared at him. “Is it really what you want to do?”
“Honestly? Maybe.” He sat back and played with the straw. “Does Mercy know I sneak out?”
“Yes.”
“So everyone at Bertha’s is watching me?”
“Kind of.”
“Great.”
“It’s not like he’s telling them. Actually, they love it that you sneak out. They’re just watching you the same way they always watch Rush.”
“So they think Mercy doesn’t know?”
“I don’t think they think about that.” Bram frowned. “They’re just happy to see you acting like you.”
Linc took that in, because he really didn’t feel like himself, but it was good to know. Maybe he was slowly turning back into his old self.
But Mercy was far from his old self. Instead, he seemed to be re-creating himself, turning into a Havoc enforcer, a brutal man to those who crossed him.
To those he liked and respected? He was reserved. And to most of his conquests, he’d effectively turned off the part of himself that could get hurt.
Linc needed a key, but hell, he’d settle for a case of TNT. Or a brick of C4.
Whether him kissing Jethro would be enough to blow the lid off Mercy remained to be seen.
“How are you really doing?” Bram pressed.
“I’m . . .” All right. Better. Needing to be touched. Shitty. “Fine.”
“That’s the way I used to answer.” Bram gave him a worried smile. “I’m here, Linc.”
“You always are,” Linc assured him.
It was four thirty in the morning and Mercy still wasn’t home. Linc had sent Bram back to Sweet half an hour ago. Now, still wide-awake and getting more pissed off by the second, he went in search of Mercy . . . on the compound, though. Because he wasn’t stupid enough to go off-site on his own.
There were a few places Mercy could be, and Linc started with the clubhouse. Technically, he needed to go inside with a Havoc member, but he figured that wouldn’t be an issue.
It was more crowded than he’d thought. A lot of the guys who’d been at Bertha’s had moved the party over here, and there were a good number of guests here as well.
Tug was there. Boomer too, and both moved to greet him, or maybe shield him, but it was an enthusiastic greeting none the less.
Neither man mentioned Mercy, but Mercy wasn’t here. As crowded as it was, Linc could still see that.
“Did you come here looking for anyone in particular?” Tug asked finally.
“Don’t mean to take you away.” Linc motioned to the pretty woman who’d been sitting on Tug’s lap when Linc had come in.
“Cassie? She’s an old friend.”
Linc snorted. “Right. But yeah, Mercy wasn’t home and . . .” And he’s avoiding me.
“I’m sure he’s fine. Being an enforcer’s a busy job,” Tug attempted to reassure him.
“You’re an enforcer,” Linc pointed out.
“It’s my night off?” Tug tried, and Linc figured they all knew Mercy was avoiding him, the way they all knew Mercy was letting him sneak out.
“Go back to Cassie. I’m tired. I’m past my bedtime.” Linc smiled and headed out into the cool night air. He walked up the hill, hoping it would clear his mind, or at least make him tired enough to actually sleep.
But when he got back to the house and climbed the wooden steps, Mercy was sitting on the porch. “Heard you’re looking for me.” His legs were propped up on the railing. “Didn’t realize I had a curfew.”
“You don’t,” Linc said carefully, not liking Mercy’s tone of voice. It was cold. Angry. He flashed back to his time in that cell and tried not to shiver. “I was just worried.”
Mercy stood abruptly, his boots dropping with a heavy thud to the wooden planks, loud enough to make Linc jump. “You don’t need to be. If you want to go to the clubhouse, that’s fine. But not if you ask where I am.”
“Why? Does it make you look bad in front of your brothers?” Dangerous territory, Linc. Slow it down.
“Yes,” Mercy said. “Claiming you means that you’re mine. Rules don’t apply the other way around. Tried giving you a long leash but that doesn’t seem to be working—for me or for Havoc. Because you’re out there, fucking around.”
“But you fucking other guys while I was locked in a basement is cool—with you and Havoc?” Linc asked, unable to keep his tone anything but biting. “Is that why you were giving me a long leash—figured if you let me screw around, we’d be even?”
Mercy stared daggers at him.
“Fuck that and fuck you—I’m not your MC bitch.” Linc went to walk off the porch, but Mercy caught him by the arm.
“Thought that was what you wanted, Linc. Ever hear the phrase, ‘be careful what you wish for’?”
“I didn’t wish for you to screw around on me.”
“I thought you left me. Make no mistake, baby—it’s not a regular thing. Not since you’ve been back.”
“Even though you can?”
“Even though,” Mercy agreed, his tone softer. “That why you let Jethro kiss you?”
“I need you, Mercy. I need you with me, okay?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
“You really thought I didn’t need you there?”
Mercy shrugged. “I think you need to follow orders. Directions.”
Linc laughed, tried to anyway, but it came out hollow. Nerves tightening his belly. “It, ah, won’t happen again?”
“Now why don’t I believe that?” Mercy’s voice was a rough silk that slid down Linc’s back, making him hard—harder still, as Mercy moved in closer. “I asked a question.”
Linc felt lightheaded as the heat from Mercy’s body radiated over him. It’d been so damned long since he’d had a tender touch . . . would it be longer still? Was this all a goddamned tease? “Fuck your questions, Mercy, and fuck you trying to scare me. Just touch me.”
If Mercy was surprised by the demand, he didn’t let on. He remained inches away and Linc fisted his own hands to stop him
self from reaching out first. “What is it, Mercy? Am I too dirty for you now?”
Mercy’s answer was an immediate, “Never,” in a barely there rasp. His hands moved to snake down the back of Linc’s neck, and Linc leaned into the contact, rubbing his cheek against Mercy’s inner wrist like a cat. Seeking attention. Affection. Friction.
“Please.” He hated begging, but this small touch was so good. Wanted.
Needed.
It’d taken him a while to get to this point. At first, he hadn’t wanted to see Mercy, when he was angry at everything and everyone. But he’d suddenly gone from zero to sixty with no in-between. His body was hot. Feverish. His skin was too tight and itchy. He had to get out of his clothes, needed to palm his cock and come.
Fuck it. He brought his hands to his pants and unzipped. His dick was so goddamned hard it hurt and he caught it, stroked it, all as Mercy stayed still but remained touching him.
A strangled groan escaped his throat and Mercy’s expression softened. Linc’s breath hitched and he began to sway slightly, but was steadied by Mercy’s touch.
He wanted to close his eyes but he refused to break Mercy’s gaze. He didn’t care that Mercy wasn’t stroking his cock.
“Good, Linc,” Mercy said just then. “Faster. You need this.”
Linc didn’t bother to bite back his groans. “What do you need, Mercy? Tell me.”
Mercy’s mouth opened and his Adam’s apple bobbed from a hard swallow before he let go of Linc.
And sank to his knees.
Linc stopped stroking in surprise but it didn’t matter, because Mercy moved his hand and took Linc into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Linc cried out, his body shuddering as Mercy sucked, wet and hot.
His hands carded in Mercy’s hair, then gripped as his orgasm threatened and there was no way to hold it back. “Don’t stop—please.”
Mercy just sucked him harder, his tongue flicking along Linc’s cock while still managing to swallow him down. And then Linc shot . . .
He was yelling, mixing Mercy and fuck and yes, and he was surprised that no one came to interrupt. Because if this was a goddamned dream? He didn’t want to wake up.
