by Amity Cross
Blood, murder, revenge and hardcore fucking. X’s eyes widened slightly, the only indication he gave that I’d said the right thing. He was pissed with me, but as he said…there wasn’t even time for that. There wasn’t even time for the existential argument of his feelings for me. This hit had to happen now.
“We need to go,” he snapped. “We may only have hours to do this thing.”
As we resurfaced, I blinked sharply at the sudden burst of sunlight, waiting a moment until my vision cleared. X did the same, waiting just inside the entrance to the catacomb. He signaled it was all clear and we stepped out into the world once more.
We left the cemetery as casually as we could, walking the side street with our heads down.
“How are we going to get there?” I asked. “We have no car, the trains will be watched by the cops…”
“Here,” X said, stopping by an older model car that was parked in a spot beside us. It was some monstrosity from the nineteen eighties, full of rust and lax security. As long as it got us to where we were going.
Dumping the duffle bag on the footpath, he ripped open the side and unthreaded a piece of plastic from the lining. Then he stood and stuck it through the top of the window, lowering it inside the car. A moment later there was a click and he tested the handle. It opened and he tossed the bag into the back.
“Get in,” he barked at me.
I slid into the passenger seat, flabbergasted that he could break into a rust bucket with only a flimsy piece of plastic.
“Are you James Bond?” I asked as he pulled at the wiring under the steering column.
“No,” he retorted. “James Bond is the good guy.” He struck two wires together, completing the circuit for the ignition and the engine roared into life.
Without hesitation, he shifted the gearstick into drive and pulled out into the street. How to steal a car, hitman style, one-oh-one.
He weaved through the narrow back streets of Montmartre, before emerging onto the main boulevard and slipping into the midday traffic. Since it was Sunday, it was pretty light, so our progress unhindered.
X pulled out something from his coat pocket and I sat up, watching him.
“What’s that?”
“Allaire’s mobile phone,” he said, scrolling through it while driving one-handed.
“Won’t they be able to track that?”
“Probably, but we need a map.” X swerved, his attention too split for my liking.
“Give it here,” I snapped, snatching the phone from his hand. “Give me the address.”
X rattled off something in French and I had to ask him to slow down. Once I got the address up, I steered him on the right path and began snooping through the phone to see what dirt I could find on our captive. Any shred of intel on this guy and his set up was worth its weight in gold.
“How does he contact his men?” X asked as I sifted through the call log.
“Sometimes by calling, sometimes by text,” I replied. “It looks like it’s in some kind of code, though.”
“Show me.” I held up the phone, showing him a string of messages. They all looked like gibberish to me. His gaze flickered from the screen to the road a couple of times.
“Do you think we can signal his men somehow?” I asked. “Get them to stand-down from the house?”
“Perhaps. Though it might not be worth the risk.”
I shivered, biting my lip. He might have the ninja skills to knock them out cold with a crazy badass nerve pinch, but I didn’t.
“I’m angry with you, Mercy, but I’ll be with you until the end,” X said, placing his hand on my thigh. “Once it is done and we are away from this place, then we will talk about today.”
I glanced at him, my lips parting. “You want to talk? Actually talk about your feelings and shit?”
He pulled his hand away with a scowl. “Now is not the time to be a bitch, Mercy.”
“So, are you just dangling the proverbial carrot until we’re no longer in the crosshairs?”
He smiled wryly.
“I don’t like it when you lie by omission, X,” I said sullenly. “Or when you use our relationship in your interrogations.”
He didn’t reply, he just kept his gaze fixed on the road.
“I want to be your equal.” There. I said it.
He turned to stare at me, his expression guarded. It was so airtight I wondered if his conscious form was actually still in there.
A shrill ringing pierced the air and Allaire's phone started vibrating in my hand.
“Shit, it’s fucking ringing. What do I do?” I held it out like it was suddenly volatile.
X snatched the phone from my hand, our conversation forgotten. He glanced at the screen and to my horror, answered it.
“Bonjour?” he said as I slapped him on the thigh.
He listened for a moment, ignoring my protests.
“Monsieur Allaire pas disponible pour le moment—” He was interrupted by whoever was on the other end. “Je suis le concierge de l' Hôtel Le Relais. Il a laissé son téléphone portable…” He paused, glancing at me. “Il est avec une amie du cabaret.”
Cabaret? Did he just say what I think he said?
“Oui, je vais lui donner le message.” He hung up the call and handed the phone back to me.
“What the fuck?” I asked, irritated. “Do you want to announce our intentions to Sykes any clearer or fucking what?”
“I said I was the concierge at a local hotel. I implied he was with a prostitute.”
I scowled. Pervert. “Did they buy it?”
“Yes.”
I scowled. “Just like that?”
“He’s a perverted man, Mercy. It would’ve been worse not to answer.”
It was then I realized he was buying us as much time as possible. A minute here and a minute there, he was no longer satisfied with days or hours, but bite-sized chunks. X expected this charade to be over within the hour.
Over a year had passed since my family had been brutally murdered and finally my quest for revenge had come down to minutes.
It was an exhilarating thought.
It was difficult not to marvel at the scenery outside my window as we ventured into Versailles.
The buildings, the streets, the light…it was all beautiful, but I couldn’t stop to enjoy it. Even when we passed near the Palace, which was the last home of the French monarchy, I couldn’t even catch a glimpse. We drove along the edge of the grounds, the manicured gardens swarming with tourists stretching off into the distance.
Allaire’s house was on the opposite edge of the village, tucked behind the Palace grounds. X drove by the front of the residence, not slowing to avoid suspicion. Unlike the houses in the city, this was a freestanding mansion with grounds, a high fence and two levels of self-indulgent splendor.
X parked the car a block over.
“We have to play this by ear,” he said, the first words he’d spoken since the ill-timed phone call. “I don’t know what’s inside, or what security they have on the grounds.”
“I know,” I murmured, acutely aware that my gun was pressing painfully into the small of my back.
“You’ll be fine with me.”
I glanced at him and was surprised to find him leaning close, his expression rather…open. I reached up and fisted my hand into the front of his T-shirt and pulled him toward me. His lips met mine and I opened up to him, allowing his tongue to sweep into my mouth.
“Stay with me,” he murmured against my lips. “I’ll get you through this.”
“Did you mean what you said?” I asked.
X cocked his head to the side.
“What you said to Allaire?”
He drew in a sharp breath. “I told you before we left the cottage that I thought I might be capable…” He trailed off before letting me go. “We need to move.”
“X.” I pulled at his T-shirt. If there ever was a moment, then this was it. Anything could happen in that house. Anything…and he wanted to brush me
off now?
“We’re doing this in the daylight, so we have to be careful,” he went on. “We need to be silent.”
I sighed sharply, letting him go and he got out of the car. I followed suit, and checked my gun before making sure my knife was still firmly wedged inside my boot. That man was forever breaking my fucking heart. A small voice was whispering sweet nothings in the back of my mind. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care for you. He said he didn’t need to help you. He said he was here for you.
“Come,” X commanded and I strode to his side.
We made our way down the street, heads down, eyes alert. I kept my mind square in the game, shoving my irritation at X’s reluctance to tell me how he felt to the back of my brain. I compartmentalized it like a fucking boss. Time to shine, Mercy. Time to fucking shine.
We lingered by the wall that surrounded Allaire’s house, watching for any movement in the street, but being Sunday and a rather usually warm day, it was deserted.
“Up and over, Mercy,” X murmured before hauling himself to the top. He perched on the edge and reached down for me. He grasped my wrists and I curled my fingers around his and he hauled me up next to him. He dropped into the garden first, landing in the dirt.
I dropped down, landing in the flower bed with a dull thud. A large hedge obscured us from the open yard and any eyes that were watching from the windows beyond.
“Junction box,” X murmured, nodding across the grass.
I saw the box set low against the wall of the house and regarded all the open space between us and it with trepidation. Understanding he meant to disable any alarm system the house had, I nodded. We’d have to make a run for it. This was a compulsory step and it had to be done. No fear.
Scanning the windows, I didn’t see any movement. “Windows are clear.”
“Head down, fast and silent,” X whispered into my ear. “I’m right behind you.”
I did one more sweep of the windows and the yard before pushing though the hedge and running clear across the yard. I hit the wall, flattening my back against the render and tried to still my thumping heart. X was beside me a split second later. Clear.
X cracked open the junction box and examined the wiring inside. He pulled his knife from his pocket and began stripping the wires. I backed against the wall, watching our backs with my gun drawn.
“Done,” X murmured, closing the box gently. “We just have to watch for eyes.”
What was that American television show from the eighties? MacGyver? The guy who could defuse a nuclear bomb with a roll of toilet paper? Well, give X a couple of sheets right now because that man could obviously do anything. Who the fuck was I in love with? A motherfucking enigma.
“Patio,” X hissed, pointing to my left.
I began ascending the stairs, my boots silent on the pavers. The curtains were drawn across the windows, but they were sheer and the sun was at our right. We had to get inside quickly, or risk our shadows drawing attention to anyone inside those rooms.
Approaching the doors to the house, I turned the handle and it opened slightly, I held for a moment and X signaled for me to let him in first. He edged around me and pushed inside, his gun held out in front of him. He tracked right, then left, before gesturing to me that it was clear. We stepped into a fancy kitchen that was decked out with four different stainless steel ovens, marble bench tops and a plethora of high-end appliances.
X went one way and I went towards the dining room, peering out into the hallway. It was separated from the living areas with French-style doors specific to the seventeenth century, as were most of the furnishings. A tapestry hung on one wall in the dining room, a crystal chandelier dangled overhead and large rugs adorned the floors almost wall to wall. Posh had nothing on it. This place looked like a museum that was funded by a bevy of perverted human traffickers.
I turned back to signal the all clear to X and my eyes widened as a man walked into the kitchen. I ducked low behind the dining table and held my breath, but no cries tore through the silence. There was the sound of the refrigerator opening and then the rattling of glass.
Peering around the chair I hid behind, my gaze crossed X’s. His back was flat against the side of the refrigerator, hidden by the open door. A moment later the man closed it and turned away, crossing to the windows. He hesitated at the open patio door and after an agonizing moment, closed it. He was right between us and wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. From the look on X’s face, he knew it too. There was no way of getting to the guy and knocking him out without a scuffle. We were fucked.
The man walked right between us, leaning against the marble counter, a beer in his hand, effectively closing off our route to one another.
I glanced at X and he shook his head. All that man had to do was turn my way and I’d be made. A mere inch to the left and it was all over.
I saw the panic in X’s eyes, but it was too late to do anything about it. Any sound and we’d be made.
I had to keep going or fail.
I nodded at him once, then pushed to my feet and darted down the hall, my boots silent on the plush runner. No sound came from behind me and I knew I'd gotten out of there sight unseen.
X would fucking gut me from top to tail when he got his hands on me, but this was my game now. X could only bring me so far, I had to take the last step.
No fear.
I checked each room as I went, opening the doors and entering gun first, but they were all empty. A bathroom, a study, a guest bedroom, a storeroom. Ahead, a door was ajar, light streaming into the dark hallway. There was a flash as something moved in front of the windows and I edged closer, my skin tingling. I raised my gun, ready to shoot if I had to.
Standing directly in front of the door, I peered through the opening. I almost let out an audible gasp as I finally caught sight of my prey. I hadn’t seen him since the night I stood over him while he slept, holding a gun just like I was now. He was still as ugly as I remembered.
Sykes.
My blood began to quicken and I raised my gun, my free hand on the door. This was it. Time to die, motherfucker.
“What do you mean Allaire is missing?” he roared into a mobile phone. “Find him.”
I clicked the safety off, edging closer. I just needed a clear shot…
Just as I was about to take another step, something hard pressed into the back of my head and I froze in my tracks. The sound of a safety clicking off made my skin flush.
Fuck.
Instinctively, I turned to face my captor and came face to face with the butt of a gun.
It collided with my temple and it was lights out.
I didn’t even have a chance.
Chapter 28
Mercy
Darkness clogged my vision as I struggled to surface.
I screwed my eyes up in an effort to get some kind of clarity. Something was tugging at the corners of my mind, telling me I was in danger, but I couldn’t grasp onto anything. I felt like fucking shit.
I tried to lift my arms, but they were held taut against my sides. I began to wriggle, but couldn’t move. I was tied to a chair? X…where was X? An image of him came to mind, a look of panic on his face.
Then a bitter scent wafted up my nose.
I jerked awake, my vision blurry and my heart thumping wildly.
“Don’t struggle, sweet pea.” A oddly familiar voice broke through the haze and I felt sick. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Sykes.
“No…” As he came into focus, I tried to keep myself from hurling.
He smiled at me, leaning back in a chair of his own, his long legs stretched out around me. He sat directly in front, watching as I came back into full consciousness, his slimy slicked back hair and navy suit jacket not doing much to alter his appearance from biker thug into an international trafficking ringleader. Appearances were deceiving though and I was currently at his mercy.
Where is X? Where is X? Where is X?
He never taught me what to do
if I was caught. Because he expected to be with you until the end...
“Pleased you could finally join me, Alison.”
My head lolled forward. Who was he talking about?
“I’m going to fucking kill you, asshole,” I slurred.
Sykes laughed, clearly enjoying every second of this. “You already had your turn, little girl. I rarely do second chances and you even blew that.”
“Third time’s a charm.”
Sykes regarded me as I stared him down. We were in a dark room, surrounded by boxes and crates. A basement?
“You’re a resourceful one,” he mused after a moment. “Fucking that pretty boy killer to get him on your side. If only you’d kept your legs shut he would’ve delivered your head to my feet.” He grabbed my thigh, his fingers biting into my skin and wrenched my legs apart. “I’m going to enjoy seeing what all the fuss is about.”
I jerked violently, trying to lash out with my boot, but soon found out that my ankles were secured to the legs of the chair. Fuck.
“You killed my family,” I snarled. “You traffic women. You’re a fucking animal. You deserve to die.”
“Do you know why I personally put a bullet in your pathetic weasel of a brother’s head?” Sykes smirked. He was playing with me, like a cat with a mouse. “I could’ve sent anyone, you know. That was one message that was going to be received loud and clear. Cross me and everyone you love will die.”
I couldn’t help it when I started laughing. “You missed one.”
“At first it was just a fiddle.” Sykes held two fingers up and wiggled them lewdly at me. “Then he wanted more. We let him help the girls with their training by dipping his filthy dick into their cunts.”
“No,” I exclaimed. “Anthony wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t...” He was messed up, but he wouldn’t rape anyone...
“Oh, he did, sweat pea. He did and he did it often. He was one sick man. He went behind our backs one time too many and damaged the merchandise.”
Oh, god. Merchandise. They were human fucking beings, not things… My brother was a part of this? No.
Sykes smirked. “That’s why I shot him and your mummy and daddy in the head. Nobody fucks with me, Alison.”
