by Amity Cross
She didn’t press it, casting her gaze back to the road ahead.
Eventually I’d have to face this thing between us and categorize it, but I was far from ready to even understand it.
When we finally arrived in the city and stashed the car, we walked through the quiet streets, making for the pub. We kept our heads down and walked fast, our hands wedged together. This wasn’t Royal Blood or Necromancer territory, so the likelihood of being spotted was low, but it was still a threat nonetheless. They would be hunting and that would include hiring outside men. Bounties, hits, nowhere was totally free of prying eyes. Nowhere except the solitude of the cottage.
That was the one calm place in the shitstorm that was our lives.
Vaughn was waiting for us when we stepped through the front door of the pub.
Doing a quick scan of the premises, I noticed that it was mostly empty, save for staff behind the bar and a few punters who looked like they were paid well to look inconspicuous. As I suspected, Vaughn had planned this little meeting right down to the last detail. We were visitors in his territory and there was no other way he could declare it so plainly.
Mercy was slightly behind me and I reached back to grasp her hand, but she was already searching for my touch. As her palm connected with mine and our fingers curled together, I gave her a small squeeze.
Vaughn sat in the back corner, and as we approached, he rose from the table and smiled, his gaze running the length of Mercy and back up again, making me prickle with anger.
“X, glad you could make it,” he said. I snorted, but his attention was firmly on Mercy. “And you must be the woman everyone has been talking about.”
She cocked her head to the side.
“Mercy Reid,” Vaughn said with a smirk.
“And you must be Vaughn,” she replied sweetly.
He smiled, a wicked gleam in his eye, and bade us to sit.
“Drink?” Vaughn asked, gesturing to a man by the bar. A moment later, three pints of beer appeared on the table before us. “I hope X has been treating you well, Mercy,” he went on. “He has a penchant for violence.”
I tensed, grinding my teeth.
“I can hold my own,” Mercy retorted. “I don’t need your concern. What I need is your information.”
Vaughn’s eyes widened slightly and he began to laugh. “Fair call.”
I straightened up, my cock twitching. Fuck. And she was worried about this meeting?
“You’ll be interested to know that Weiss is alive.”
That one was directed at me to test my reaction, but I already assumed as much. Royal Blood wasn’t my concern. They were a fight that was queued up for another day.
Mercy tensed beside me and I clamped my hand on her thigh.
“We’re here about the hit on Sykes. Nothing more. What are the arrangements?”
Vaughn's lips curled into his trademark smirk and he said, “All business? No pleasure?”
He was trying to bait me in front of Mercy, but it wasn’t going to work. I narrowed my eyes and he leaned back in his chair, getting the message.
“I have a man who will meet you just south of Portsmouth to take you across the English Channel.”
“France?” Mercy asked, her eyes wide. “Sykes is in France?”
Vaughn eyed her, but whatever he thought of Mercy’s eagerness he kept to himself. “He will be.”
“Keep talking,” I drawled.
“A fishing trawler will be waiting offshore to collect you.” Vaughn reached into his pocket and produced a small envelope, which he handed to me. “Inside you’ll find coordinates for your rendezvous point. Once you’re on the trawler in open water, my man will give you the location of your drop off point and the location of the cache.”
“What’s in it?” I asked, stuffing the envelope into my jacket pocket.
“I’ve arranged what I can. Weapons, equipment, clothing. Transportation.”
I nodded. He’d gone above and beyond and now I owed him. We both owed him big time and he fucking knew it. I wondered what favor he’d hold over my head when the time came. Paying back men like these rarely came easy.
“I do have to stress, that once you’re on French soil, you’re on your own.”
Obviously. “Sykes’ location?”
“On the twenty-seventh at nine pm, Sykes is due to meet with Jacques Lafayette in Saint Germain. Lafayette owns a small wine bar, which is where they will meet. They won’t be in plain sight, there are private rooms below and above.”
Lafayette. The name sounded familiar and I began to wonder if it was attached to another memory Royal Blood programmed me to forget. I felt something tugging at the corners of my mind, trying to surface.
“Who is he?” I asked. “Lafayette?”
Vaughn smirked. “You don’t remember do you?” He let out a low whistle. “Greggor really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
Mercy snarled beside me and snapped, “Answer the question.”
“Why, little lady?” he asked. “You want to add to your kill list so soon?”
“If he deserves it,” she retorted.
I could’ve asserted myself over Mercy, a simple touch to let her know to rein it in, but it wasn’t worth it. She was a fucking lioness and it turned me the fuck on.
Vaughn glanced at me, highly amused. “I can see why you like her, X.”
“Answer the question,” she snapped again and this time I clamped my hand on her thigh underneath the table.
“Lafayette is a trafficker, Mercy,” Vaughn declared, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table.
“Trafficker?” she asked, confused, but I understood completely.
“Women, Mercy,” I murmured. “He traffics women.”
She stiffened beside me, staring at me in horror. How could you explain it other than in those simple terms? There was no real way of comprehending the things these men did to innocent human beings for profit. The mental and physical damage they caused. It was the ultimate depravity.
Lafayette was going to have his photograph crossed out. If it wasn’t me, then it would be Mercy. I could see it written all over her face.
“The Necromancers are more than just a Motorcycle Club, aren’t they?” she whispered.
“Nothing is what it seems in the underworld,” Vaughn murmured, a faraway expression on his face.
“The club is just a front,” I said to her. “It’s the same for Royal Blood.”
Vaughn grunted, downing the last of his beer. “You’ll find everything you need in the cache. Blueprints, schematics, surveillance. It will be ready in time for your arrival.”
I cocked my head to the side. “You’ve tied this all up into a nice little package, haven’t you?”
“I have a vested interest in eliminating Sykes, X. Never forget that. There is no scenario where double-crossing you is profitable for me.” He glanced at Mercy, who shuffled nervously in her seat. “We both want the same thing,” he said to her. “Make the bastard suffer.”
“I intend to,” she replied, staring at him like they were sharing a secret pain.
Vaughn glanced at me and smirked. Fucking slimy asshole.
My black, twisted heart constricted in jealousy and I leaned over and pressed my lips against the shell of Mercy's ear, my gaze never leaving Vaughn’s. “Can you wait for me by the bar? This won’t take long.”
Mercy turned and I could see her mouth opening to complain, but I raised my hand and cupped her face, pressing my thumb over her lips.
“Five minutes,” I said and she nodded, understanding the command in my voice.
She glanced at Vaughn, nodding once before rising and leaving the table.
Vaughn smirked, watching her walk across the pub. “I can see she trusts you, X. Unfailingly, I might add.”
My lips curled into a sneer. “What we are is none of your concern, Vaughn.”
He shook his head, holding his hands up, palms out. “Understood. She’s your territory, so you can stop pissin
g, X.”
“This deal. What’s in it for you?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.
“Of course there’s something in it for me,” Vaughn said with a smirk. “There always is.”
“And you’re not going to tell me what that is?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What concern is it of yours as long as you get what you want?”
I grunted in reply, thoroughly fed up with his games. “Any word from Royal Blood?”
“They’re pulling out all the stops,” he replied. “Everyone is looking for you and your woman, so be careful where you show your faces. There’s a mighty fine price attached to your corpse.”
I narrowed my eyes. There was no doubt. I’d crossed a lot of people in a short amount of time. “How much?”
“A million.”
“Is that all?” I scoffed.
“Two if they can take you alive. It’s a fucking compliment, X.” He glanced across the empty pub to where Mercy was waiting. “I don’t know where you’re hiding, but it must be someplace good.”
“And I’m not telling you.”
“They both came to me,” Vaughn went on, ignoring my irritated quip.
“And?”
“And nothing. I need you, X. I’m not about to rat you out.” He smirked. “They think they’re so fucking on top of things. They have no idea.”
“The monopoly about to change is it?”
“I think so. Depends on how Mercy handles the next stage of your plan, right?”
I nodded. He was right about that one.
“If she fails, I’m not going to give her another chance,” Vaughn went on. “I’ll be the one finishing the job.”
Vaughn didn’t say it, but he didn’t need to. He’d be finishing us along with Sykes because failures were liabilities to him. If Mercy failed, then I’d step in. Vaughn wasn’t getting anywhere near this if I had anything to do with it.
One kill had turned into two, but it was a simple case of two birds, one stone.
“The rendezvous is set for tomorrow night, X. Don’t miss it.”
I snorted, rising from the table. “I’m never fucking late, Vaughn.”
He rolled his eyes. “Good luck then.”
“I don’t need luck.”
“Then good luck to Mercy and her first time.”
“I’m not taking her virginity,” I spat, thoroughly pissed at his constant probing into mine and Mercy’s relationship.
“No,” Vaughn said, shaking his head. “You’re just deflowering her humanity.”
I tensed and with a scowl, turned on my heel and strode across the pub to collect Mercy. Fucking pompous, uptight asshole.
“Are you ready?” I asked, sliding my hand into hers.
She frowned, and I focused on the blonde in her hair. She needed to dye it again.
“Are you okay?” she murmured.
“Not here.”
She nodded, sliding from the barstool and melding herself to my side.
I led her from the pub and as we stepped out onto the street, our heads low, we disappeared into the night like the ghosts we needed to be.
We finally had our mission and our plan was set.
It was time to go hunting.
Chapter 13
Mercy
I sat in the passenger seat of X’s muscle car, watching him move through the window of the convenience store.
The fluorescent lights were blinding in the darkness, making everything look brilliant and overwhelmingly conspicuous. My line of sight crossed a CCTV camera and I wondered how much X was risking by being in there. He wasn’t exactly a run of the mill kinda guy. He stuck out like a sore thumb, walking down the aisle directly in front of the car.
He stopped and stared for a moment, then picked up something from the shelf.
It had been a highly-strung evening. First meeting Vaughn, who wasn’t at all like I’d imagined him, then this…whatever this pit stop was about.
Just thinking about the imminent move we were about to make on Sykes had my skin crawling in anticipation. We were going to France…motherfucking Paris. I’d never been, despite living so close and having well-to-do parents who could afford to send me. I knew enough about it to know Saint Germain was the trendy bohemian part of the city. An art lovers heaven. X had to know that it'd get my rocks off, right?
And I couldn’t even get started on that Lafayette guy. I’d fallen head first into the deep end of a world that was darker than I could’ve ever imagined. What else could I do? Keep treading water and hope I wasn’t pulled under.
Monsieur Lafayette was going to be kill number two.
I bit my lip, shaking my head at myself. Look at me, already drawing up a list. I wasn’t a fucking vigilante superhero, not by a long shot.
I jumped as the car door opened and X slid in. He tossed a box at me, and it fell into my lap, before he dumped a plastic bag on the back seat.
I raised my eyebrows. “You risked showing up on surveillance to get me a box of hair dye?” Blackest black, no less.
He grunted, turning the key in the ignition. The car roared to life and he pulled out of the parking spot and onto the street.
“Your blonde is showing,” he said after a while.
“Does regrowth annoy you?”
“I prefer your hair black.”
I raised my eyebrows again. “I didn't know you had a preference.” That was another new one to add to the list.
He glanced at me, before turning back to the road. It was a long, dark drive through the moor to get back to the cottage.
“It suits you,” he murmured, surprising me yet again.
I stared at him for a moment, but it was too dark to glean anything from his expression. Not that he’d have one, but a girl had to try.
It was past one am by the time we got back to the cottage, but X commanded me into the bathroom and I mixed up the dye and slathered it on my roots, dabbing around my hairline to capture all the wispy baby hairs, trying not to be messy about it. Once that shit got on your skin it took days for it to fade away. The last thing I wanted was black stains on my face in fucking Paris. X said we only had until tomorrow night to organize ourselves before we left. I suppose it was best to get this over with now.
I stared at myself in the mirror, my scalp tingling from the dye, and rolled my eyes. Shit, it wasn’t a red carpet black tie event I was going to. I was on my way to kill a man. I was on my way to exact revenge.
I sat in the bathroom on the edge of the tub in nothing but my bra and knickers, waiting for the dye to develop and listening to X bang about in the cottage. I’d done well at the meeting with Vaughn, or I assumed I had. Balls of steel. Maybe not balls, but the female equivalent. Fake it till you make it.
Once the forty-five minutes had passed, I turned on the shower and washed the dye from my hair, scrubbing my scalp with shampoo. Once the water started running clear, I conditioned and rinsed before turning the taps off.
Grabbing a towel, I began drying myself off. He wanted me to color my hair. Was it because he couldn’t bare to see me as the woman I was before? The woman he had been ordered to find and kill? Or was it as simple as preferring me with dark hair?
I straightened up, perching on the edge of the bath, and gasped as my gaze collided with X’s. He leaned against the wall, watching me towel my wet hair, his face impassive as always. He wore nothing but a pair of black jeans and I found myself taking in the lines of his tattoo.
“Better?” I asked.
He pushed off the wall and crossed the room, his bare feet shuffling along the tiles. Reaching up to the top shelf of the cabinet, he pulled down a pair of scissors and a comb.
“Don’t even think about it,” I protested, pawing my long locks protectively.
“Vaughn gave us new passports,” he replied. “I didn’t have your photo and we don’t have enough time to get one, so we’ll need to alter your appearance to fit yours.”
“What do you mean?”
X sighed and sat bes
ide me on the edge of the bath, sliding one leg into the tub. “It’s easier for a woman to change her appearance.”
I glanced at the scissors and knew he was right.
“It’s just hair,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through my wet locks. “It will grow back.”
I sighed, throwing one leg into the tub, my back facing X. “Are you any good at this?”
He dragged the comb through my hair. “We’ll find out in a moment.”
I tensed, but let him take control. I watched him in the mirror as he combed all my hair out, making a part in the middle. There was something deeply erotic about having a man like X comb my hair.
Then he began cutting, a look of deep-set concentration on his face. Hair began to fall, landing on the floor and in the bath, but I couldn’t take my eyes from him. He moved methodically, my hair began to disappear and it felt like I was morphing into yet another version of myself. If X wasn’t there, if he wasn’t with me, then I might just go crazy. How many times did I have to change before I found the perfect balance?
X glanced up, our gazes locking onto each other in the mirror. His lips parted slightly and his green eyes fixed on my mouth, his breathing shallow. He blinked once, then returned to cutting.
“Do you think…” I trailed off as another lock of hair fell into my lap.
X stilled behind me. “Do I think what?”
I began to breathe heavily, placing my palms on X’s thighs. “Do you think you could love me?”
He tensed before dragging the comb through my hair and cutting. “Finished,” he said, placing the comb and scissors on the basin.
Rising from the edge of the bath, I stared at myself in the mirror. My new hairstyle altered the shape of my face drastically and I ran my fingertips over my cheekbones. He’d cut it into a choppy chin length bob, all different lengths. It was obviously cut by someone without much experience with hair, but it was better than an inch all over. I still felt feminine.
X stood behind me, his chest pressing into my back, and I shivered.
“I think I could,” he whispered.
I gasped, leaning back against his chest. His hands came to rest on my hips and his breath fluttered against my neck as he dipped low to kiss my heated skin. Then he moved his hands up my waist and over my ribs before he unclasped my bra. I let it fall to the floor and his hands covered my breasts, massaging. I reached back and cupped his ass, digging my fingers into him, and he thrust forward. Fuck, he was hard.
