by Amity Cross
“Fuck.” She moaned against my mouth, her hands tearing at my coat. “That was such a fucking rush and I wasn’t even there.”
Turned on it was. She pressed against me, grinding against my erection, our lips coming together.
I was creating a monster, but I was so fucking hard it didn’t even cross my mind to take a step back. Never mix business with pleasure. I vaguely remembered the moment I’d straddled Mercy in her apartment, the moment I’d realized that I was contracted to kill her, and attempted to choke the life from her. That was the moment the lines had blurred… She made business my fucking pleasure.
I’d tried to choke her to death and it had gotten me hard.
I pulled at her top, ripping it up over her head, stripping her of her bra. Massaging her breasts in my hands, I twisted her nipples, getting off on her unbearable lust in the wake of such carnage. It felt so fucking good, so how was this wrong?
I hadn’t felt the rush in a long time. I’d become stiff and mechanical in my work and with the arrival of Mercy, things had become new again. I was still changing, still evolving and fuck, it made me hard. It was her. It was all her.
Maybe it was my cock talking or maybe it was just the adrenalin, but Mercy had brought me back to life.
I pushed at her jeans and she at mine, desperate to feel her skin against my body. We kicked our boots off and our remaining clothes were flung into the darkness. My cock was free, aching to be inside her but before I could push her back against the wall, her hands curled around my shaft and began stroking.
I hissed sharply as my balls flared with pleasure and Mercy purred against my lips. She pumped me furiously with her hand, her mouth moving from mine and clamping down on my left nipple. Her hand worked up and down, paying special attention to the tip of my cock. I was going to come in her hand if she didn’t let up soon. I could feel my release pooling in my balls, ready to coat her palm.
Pulling her hands away, she mewled in protest and I shook my head. Scooping her up, her legs clamped around my waist, her pussy wet against my cock. Pressing her back against the wall, I pounded into her with a single thrust, our bodies joining with an audible slap.
“Like this,” I grunted. “In you.”
I held for a moment, relishing the feel of her body as she quivered against me, her breathing ragged. I drew back and thrust again, sliding into her warm pussy, getting off on the feel of her fingernails clawing into my back. She rolled her hips, fucking herself on my cock as I fucked her in turn, our movements desperate and uninhibited.
My left hand grasped her ass, keeping her in place, and my right curled around her neck. I felt the urge to squeeze, to mark her again, to choke as I fucked, but her gaze met mine and I couldn’t do it. She murmured my name, swirling her hips and I let my grip slacken.
Her hand found mine and pulled it to her mouth. Her warm, wet lips sucked on my index finger, her tongue caressing before she bit. Moaning loudly, I slowed my pace, fucking her deep and slow with my cock as she lavished attention on my finger.
“Like this?” she asked. “In me?”
In her… A wicked thought passed through my mind. “On you…”
I turned, carrying her in my arms, my cock sliding out of her pussy. Dropping her back on the bed, she stared up at me with her pretty blue eyes. Fisting my hand around my cock, I knelt before her, my gaze settling on her pink folds. Understanding what I wanted to do, she moved down the mattress until her ass was right on the edge, her legs spread wide.
“On me…” she moaned, her gaze flickering to my cock and then back up to mine.
I began stroking myself, curling my free hand around her thigh, feeling my balls begin to tighten. Mercy palmed her breasts, watching me jack off to her, and I pumped harder.
I came suddenly, spilling onto her lower stomach and Mercy moaned, her fingers circling her clit, marking herself with me. So fucking hot…
I covered her hands with mine massaging myself into her skin, against her clit… Mine.
My cock still stood ready for more and I wasn’t about to let her go without her coming, too. Grabbing her ass, I pulled her onto me, burying deep into her pussy. She cried out my name, her head falling backwards.
I fucked her hard and fast, and when she began to quicken, I pushed her back onto the bed. Covering her with my body, I drove her home, pushing her body to its limits. She was coming, writhing and clawing underneath me and I thrust and pounded until I was coming inside her. I fucked her until I felt my strength leaving me. I fucked her until I was empty.
Best motherfucking orgasm of my life.
I collapsed beside her, both of us hot and sticky with sweat and sex. I’d marked her on the outside, but she’d marked me all fucking over.
“You blew up a building for me,” she murmured through a heavy breath.
I suspected she was somewhat out of her mind from her orgasm, but I supposed she was right. Some men gave their women flowers and jewelry. I laid the bodies of her enemies at her feet like a fucked up wreath of roses.
I guess that was my way of saying ‘I love you’.
The sun rose, sirens and smoke permeated the city, and Mercy didn’t sleep. She lay in bed beside me, her breathing even, listening to the chaos that was unfolding in the distance. Whatever she was thinking was a mystery because she’d finally perfected her poker face.
I bade her to shower with me and when we emerged, she instantly switched on the cheap television in the corner, flicking through the channels until she found Sky News. No fucking surprise when I realized they were showing images of my path of destruction.
Mercy sat watching the news report, a blank look on her face. It was entirely in French, but it didn’t take a genius to decipher the gist of it.
“What are they saying?” she asked after a while.
“They’re saying that the police are treating it as suspicious.”
“And that?” she asked as a info graphic flashed on the screen. “I know that word means 'bodies'.”
“Two bodies were found inside.”
“They were the men we saw?” she asked, instantly understanding that I put them there.
Well, she was right. Two unrecognizable bodies and two ID’s via dental records that would take days to complete meant that they weren’t sure if we were alive or dead. Now, we had a chance.
“You tell me.” She was watching me from overhead. She would’ve seen me carry them inside.
“Whatever,” she replied sullenly.
“There is nothing that will link us to the explosion, Mercy. Do you have that little faith in me?”
She glanced up at me. “No, I— That’s not what I meant.”
“They will begin their inquiries with the owner of the building to rule out insurance fraud. Since that owner is Lafayette, their hands will be tied. The police will try their hardest to pin a charge on a man they have been trying to catch for a very long time. They won’t be looking for two ghosts that were smuggled into the country.”
She was silent for a while, then she snorted. “At least no one else was hurt.”
“I don’t intend to harm those that are not involved,” I snapped.
Collateral damage sometimes came with the territory. I opened my mouth to say as much, but I quickly closed it. I didn’t want to argue about this. Not today, not when we were on borrowed time.
Mercy shrugged. “It bothers me about innocent people. That’s all. I just wished you had of told me a little sooner about your plan.”
I narrowed my eyes. She was right.
“I need to go out,” I declared, pulling on my shirt.
She glanced at me again. “What for?”
Usually, this would be the moment I just walked the fuck out and did whatever I wanted, but we were a team now. At least on this job we were.
I didn’t have a phone since I destroyed it before leaving the rooftop a few hours before, so I had to go purchase another one. “I need to get another burner. Then I need to contact Vaughn.”
“Vaughn?” Mercy scoffed. “Seriously?”
“If you have another lead, by all means share it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Point.”
I pulled on my jacket, picking up the room key.
“Just be careful, okay?”
I looked down at her where she sat on the edge of the bed, and allowed myself to smile. Having someone care, having them always say these things, sometimes it pissed me off…but not today.
“Always,” I said, and then I left.
Outside, the air reeked of smoke.
As I walked to the corner where I’d seen a store selling pay-as-you-go phones, I watched the faces that passed me on the street. The air was full of uneasiness and the snippets of conversations that reached my ears all spoke about the same thing. The explosion in St Germain.
I didn’t like being on the street so soon after blowing up half a fucking city block, but I had little choice in the matter. Time was running out and I needed a lead. Fucking hated it, but I was now reliant on Vaughn.
I bought the cheapest phone the store carried and paid cash. Outside, I pulled the packet apart and snapped out the SIM card, shoving it into the phone. It switched on no problems, but I knew I didn’t have long before the charge bottomed out to zero.
I found a secure location, hidden from view of the main boulevard, kept my head low and dialed the number I’d memorized. It rang a few times, then the call connected.
“What?” Vaughn didn’t sound happy. Too fucking bad.
“Vaughn.”
“Oh, it’s you, X. I was just watching something very interesting on the morning news,” he said.
I fucking bet he was.
“I knew you were a dramatic son of a bitch,” he went on, “but blowing up half of St Germain? That’s a new high score, X. Too bad the wrong people were inside.”
“I’ve bought us some time,” I snapped.
“Faking your own death.” There was the faint sound of clapping on the other end of the line. “Bravo.”
“Your lead was useless. We were tracked.”
“I know...and before you jump down my throat, it wasn’t me. I have to thank you by the way.”
I kept my mouth shut.
“That intel you got from Madden unearthed a lot more than an attempted assassination.”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist. “They were linked.”
“Someone’s got their eye on me. Someone from Sykes’ camp, which is why this hit needs to happen, X. No more failures.”
Shit. This thing went deeper than just a revenge killing. It was that simple for Mercy, but for Vaughn it was so much more. He had something big riding on this and if he was using us as a means to an end… I didn’t fucking like it. I’d been used all of my life, at least the life that I remembered, and fucked if I was going to be a pawn in anyone’s game ever again.
“Now would be the time to tell me what’s in it for you, Vaughn,” I snarled.
He laughed at my tone, which only made me grind my teeth. “You can take a wild guess, my friend.”
“You want Sykes’ operation.”
“When the Necromancers fall apart after Sykes’ untimely demise, I will be there to pick up the pieces. All my ducks are in a row, X, you’ve just got to pick off the last predator. Then we’ll all be happy and safe. Well, everyone but you that is.”
I shook my head. Of fucking course. This was Vaughn’s revenge. He’d never be satisfied with just killing the man who tortured his lover to death. He would take everything he had and make it his own. And me? I still had Royal Blood on my ass, like a goddamned fucking hemorrhoid.
“What does Sykes know?” I asked thinly, ignoring Vaughn’s bait.
“Enough to be royally pissed off. Pardon the pun.” I swore I could hear him smirk down the phone, the cocky posh bastard.
“And what if I don’t want to be a part of your game?”
“Oh, I think you would do anything for Mercy. By all means, correct me if I’m wrong.”
Cocksucker. “Do you have a lead or not?”
Vaughn laughed. “That’s my boy.”
“I’m pressed for time, Vaughn. If you’re done playing mind games, just spit it the fuck out.”
“I don’t know Sykes’ current whereabouts,” he went on, “but I know somebody that does.”
“Keep talking.”
“A man by the name of Julien Allaire operates a highbrow people smuggling syndicate out of France and Europe. He is currently the closest to Sykes and his current dealings in Paris. He arranged his ‘friend’s’ travel and accommodation. Word has it that if Sykes can strike a deal with Lafayette, Allaire is the man who will be smuggling the merchandise back and forth across the border. There’s a lot of money in it and keeping Sykes happy is his current objective. Find a way to make him talk and you’ve got your location.”
Money and power. These fuck stains always wanted it. Motherfucking predictable assholes.
“Are you busy tomorrow morning?” Vaughn asked, sounding smug.
“It seems like I will be paying a visit with Mr. Allaire.”
Vaughn relayed the information he had on the target and I leaned back against the wall, watching the street, yet another plan formulating in my mind.
So, it was going to be an old fashioned ‘no pain, no gain’ type of Sunday. I better make sure I packed the right tools.
“Your girl up for it?” Vaughn asked, taking every fucking opportunity to bait me over my association with Mercy.
“If it were you and Lorelei, would she be ready?”
There was silence on the other end, but I could hear the motherfucker breathing. Direct hit.
“Just get it done, X, and I’ll let you both out of this scot-free.”
“I don’t take kindly to threats,” I snarled. “You’ll get what you want and then we’re done. I want out of your politics.”
“You have yourself a deal.”
Chapter 25
Mercy
On the first Sunday of September, Julien Allaire visited his family tomb in Montmartre cemetery.
As X and I prowled through the centuries old tombs, I couldn’t help but feel creeped out by the whole place. The cemetery sat in the middle of a bustling metropolis, but within the walls we could’ve been anywhere. It was silent, empty and it was all I could do not to glance over my shoulder every five seconds.
There were rows upon rows of tombs and gravesites, all of them looking like little houses standing in line with one another. Little houses for the dead. Grand sculptures adorned many, different family names engraved on doors and plaques. Some were well looked after and some were old and falling into disrepair. The whole place was a warren, twists and turns leading to more of the same.
If we eliminated Allaire and our quest for Sykes failed, then at least one link in his chain of human trafficking would be severed. It was bad enough that he was doing it on British soil but to take it international? Fucking sick bastard.
X held up his hand and I came to a halt. Through the trees, sculptures and lines of tombs, there was movement. A man came into view and I stepped back against the side of an angel statue. He wore a dark coat over a black suit and in one hand he held a bouquet of red roses. All dressed up to pay his respects to the dead.
This must be Allaire. It was an ironic sight to behold, considering the things he did to the living.
I glanced at X and cocked my head to the side. He’d forbidden speaking, telling me that even the slightest sound carried through this place like a thunderstorm.
X nodded, pulling me against his side.
“He’s alone,” he whispered into my ear.
“How do you know?”
He scowled. “In and out, Mercy.”
I nodded my understanding and pulled the little glass flask from my coat pocket. X took it from me and I produced a face washer I’d nicked from the hotel in my other hand. Unscrewing the cap, he turned his head and doused the cloth.
He’d said I could do the hon
ors and I wondered what I’d done to deserve it. Maybe it was just another of his training exercises.
Moving through the tombs, I picked a wide path around Allaire as he stood with his head bowed in front of a newer site. Once I was positioned on the opposite side of his location, I edged closer. X was doing the same. We were totally going to pincer the guy.
I signaled X with a short whistle and he stepped out into the lane, in full view of our target. While he was distracted I jogged forward, positioning myself behind the tomb. Two steps and he’d be mine.
Allaire's head jerked up and he dropped the roses on the ground. “Who are you?” he asked in a thick French accent.
I had to be quick, like lightning.
X didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to, he just smirked at our prey.
Allaire turned to fully face him, and he grasped at his coat. As I suspected, he was alone, but armed. Darting out from behind the tomb, I reached around and held the cloth against his mouth and nose, my other hand clutching his wrist, stopping him from grabbing his gun. He didn’t see me coming, but he still put up a fight.
His elbow shot backwards, ramming into my side. Pain erupted, but I held on.
X lunged, covering my hand with his, jamming the chloroform soaked cloth harder against Allaire's mouth. He struggled, his movements becoming sluggish as the chemical took hold. Finally, he went slack and we lowered his limp body to the ground.
Shit, for a moment I thought the fucker wasn’t going down at all.
“Okay?” X asked, nodding toward my side.
I pressed my fingers against my side. It was only a little sore. “Okay.”
I glanced down at Allaire, who was lying awkwardly at my feet and I bent down and pulled the gun from his side. It was a small six-millimeter, my weapon of choice. I shoved it into the back of my jeans. Two guns were better than one.
X hauled Allaire’s comatose body over his shoulder like he was carrying a sack of potatoes. Without a word, he made off through the graves toward the place he’d identified earlier. The entrance to the Montmartre Catacombs.
