Mercy

by Dimon, HelenKay

  Bast didn’t miss a beat. “Then go find her.”

  “I think she’s here.”

  A fissure of concern had Jarrett talking when he’d promised to let Bast handle this meeting. “She isn’t—”

  Bast talked over Jarrett. “You think he’d be so fucking dumb as to invite her back in here after what she did to him? To his life?”

  Jarrett didn’t have to look up and check Bast’s expression. They’d been friends long enough for Jarrett to know the underlying message in Bast’s words was meant for him, not Natalie. Not that Bast had been all that subtle in questioning the decision to give Becca shelter in private either.

  For a few drawn-out seconds, Natalie sat there with her gaze going back and forth between the men. She finally settled on Bast. “Rumor is Jarrett had it bad for her.”

  “I’m sitting right here.” The ignoring-him thing ranked pretty high on the annoying scale in Jarrett’s mind. “You don’t need to refer to me as ‘he’ or any other pronoun.”

  “Answer me this.” Natalie tucked the notebook under her elbow and leaned forward. “What’s with the hard-on for Becca?”

  “Those days are over.”

  “It looks as if she’s been very busy, cleaning up loose ends. You could be one of those.” Natalie looked back and forth between the men. “Both of you “

  “We know the score. Her team is dead,” Bast said. “Except for Todd.”

  Jarrett wished that guy had been taken out first. “Someone killed them. Probably your friends at the CIA.”

  “The order didn’t come from us.”

  Jarrett wasn’t falling for a line. “Because you would tell us, you being so honest and all.”

  He’d heard about every line of the negotiations from Bast. The CIA had demanded every word of information Jarrett ever collected on club members. Even then, they stuck with the drugs story and only offered a reduced sentence.

  A few weeks later Elijah stepped up—more like showed up at the door—and filled in a few blanks. Clued Jarrett in on the pieces the CIA absolutely needed to know. Jarrett sold his soul for those.

  Keeping his name out of the news as someone who turned on his clientele was one of Jarrett’s main concerns. Last thing he needed was a mass exodus from the club, but Bast’s impressive PR machine spun tales and made comments until the spotlight moved off Jarrett. The club members were never the wiser.

  “According to the news, the Spectrum team members, all normal citizens, died in random accidents.” Bast held up his phone as if to show off the evidence of his claims.

  Natalie snorted. “Don’t be a jackass.”

  Jarrett glanced up at Bast. “Bet you’ve heard that before, too.”

  He shrugged. “Once or twice.”

  “Enough of this. Where is she?” Natalie stood up. She eyed both men until her gaze settled on Bast.

  “You’re asking the wrong person” he said.

  “You’re an attorney.”

  “Your point is?”

  Her fingers tightened on the edge of the notebook until the tips turned white. “You have a duty to act within the law.”

  “That is not quite the oath I took.”

  “I’m done playing games.” Her false façade of calm dropped and her anger raged through the room like a killing beast. “I will take this place apart brick by brick if I have to.”

  Jarrett knew he should be immune to the threats by now. He’d heard so many, most directly from her mouth. He’d dodged almost all of them . . . eventually. But every time a government agency promised to tear him apart, doubt started thumping deep in his gut.

  Not that he would ever let her see his rumble of panic. “That should be interesting.”

  “It will be when I station people at the club’s doors and start asking questions of your members. We’ll see how quickly business dries up when law enforcement starts nosing around, picking apart their private lives and yours.” Her smile grew with every word. “What, you think we don’t know what a naughty boy you’ve been?”

  “My record is clean.” And Jarrett knew he had Bast to thank for that.

  “Is it?”

  Bast looked at her with one eye closed and his head tilted to the side. “I continue to be confused by your vision of the CIA’s reach.”

  “This goes beyond the CIA.” She glared at Jarrett. “We could be talking criminal charges.”

  “Like what?” Bast asked.

  But Natalie’s gaze never left Jarrett’s face. This wasn’t about empty promises. No, this production was for him. To make a point and throw his continued freedom into question.

  “Whatever we can think up,” she said. “Won’t be the first time we came up with a reason to bring you in, to throw you in prison.”

  “More threats, Natalie?” he asked when he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Ask yourself if Becca Ford is worth the clusterfuck your life will become.”

  Jarrett refused to answer that. “You can go now.”

  Natalie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re dismissing me?”

  The woman clearly didn’t understand how close he hovered to the brink. “I’m trying hard not to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

  Bast put a hand on Jarrett’s shoulder and held him in his seat. “That’s enough.”

  “Listen to your lawyer.” Natalie glanced at her watch. “I’ll give you three days to realize what you need to do.”

  Then before either man could fire questions at her or throw in a “you’ve lost it” comment, she turned on her comfortable heels and stormed out of the room. Her butt swayed but it was hard to see anything through the pounding fury that followed in her wake.

  Bast moved around the room and sat in the chair Natalie abandoned. “That woman does like to leave a room angry.”

  “She’s just doing her job.”

  Bast laughed. “Since when do you defend Natalie Udall?”

  Damn good question. But truth was Jarrett dissected her actions, looking for evidence of being played. Natalie liked to bend the rules, but she mostly had her orders and followed them. Jarrett could respect that. “Since I realized I’d handle this about the same way she is.”

  “She’s tough.” Bast tapped the end of his cell against his thigh. “And she wants your ass.”

  Jarrett feared she wouldn’t stop until she had it. “Figure out what we can do to prevent what she’s threatening.”

  “That’s pretty easy.”

  He didn’t even have to ask. “I’m not turning Becca over to the CIA or anyone else.”

  Bast shook his head, gave the exaggerated exhale. Threw out every sign of a friend on the edge. “You ready to admit you’re treading water when it comes to her?”

  Jarrett shook his head. “I wish I was doing that well.”

  • • •

  Becca leaned against the stove, holding a bottle of water and thinking about the last seven days at the club. She didn’t remember twisting the lid off or taking a sip. She stood there, tapping the tip against her top lip and thinking. The events of last night and the early morning ran together in her head into one big blob.

  With a practiced concentration, she closed her eyes and mentally pulled it all apart. She’d learned the trick during training. When facts and fear and adrenaline spun together and backed up on her, she broke it open and fought off the freeze. For some reason the skill worked better with trained killers than with Jarrett.

  As soon as she thought about him, he appeared. She blinked, looking from those broad shoulders under the charcoal suit to the clock on the microwave. He’d been gone about a half hour. Not enough time to burn that pissy look off his face, unfortunately.

  She went with the obvious. “You’re back.”

  “You didn’t get online.” He didn’t stop walking until he rested next to the fridge and
across from her.

  “How do you know?”

  He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his cell. “I’ll get a message when you sign on.”

  With all his tricks and the load of paranoia he carried around, the guy could give lessons to her former desk-riding bosses at the CIA. “Interesting tracking device you have there. You pick that up from a club member?”

  “Wade took a class.”

  He didn’t smile but the deadpan delivery had her brain scrambling. “I kind of hope you’re kidding.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t put any restrictions on what you did up here?” He took the water bottle from her hand and frowned when he turned the lid and produced the distinctive crack of breaking the seal. “Maybe I should rephrase that since I put plenty of restrictions on you up until now and you ignored them all.”

  Something about the way he said it made her defenses rise. “Not all.”

  She’d kept her quiet defiance to a minimum as she stripped for him, opened her body to him . . . refrained from stabbing him. She could kill a guy with a good-sized spoon and shimmy down a heating vent to sneak into a room, so as far as she was concerned, he should be grateful she stayed put for a few days. God knew, sitting still battled with her personality and training.

  “Name one,” he said.

  “I waited until today to go into your bedroom.” And holding back had used up a good portion of her willpower.

  He rolled his eyes as he took a sip. “I wonder if you know delaying is not the same thing as obedience.”

  “Not my favorite word.”

  “You’re too busy trying to outmaneuver me to try exercising it for a change.”

  Through all the banter, she noticed the lines at the corner of his mouth and stress around his eyes. Some of the fighting spirit seeped out of her. “What happened downstairs?”

  He screwed and unscrewed the lid to the bottle. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your mood is on fire.” Much more of the smart-ass comments and she might refresh her takedown skills right there in the middle of the family room.

  “Did you miss our last conversation? We didn’t exactly part on friendly terms.”

  “It’s still ringing in my mind, trust me.”

  He threw her one of those the-man-is-done frowns. “Then you know I’m tired of the bullshit.”

  Oh, no. She’d own her garbage, but he left with anger spinning around him. He came back with his shoulders weighed down with what suspiciously looked like exhaustion. “This mood—whatever this is—isn’t about me.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Eight months ago he would have grabbed her hand and drawn her down on his lap on the couch. After some prodding, he would have shared something, at least a clue. Talked about problems with members or staff infighting. Even his disgust at having a businessman sit in his office and explain that he had to stay in the club even though his last few payments bounced.

  The point was, she’d seen this look before. “I know you.”

  He studied her as he twirled that damn lid in his hand. “I wonder how it feels to be able to say that and believe it.”

  “So, we’ve taken a giant step backwards, I see.” Not a surprise. Her insides still trembled at the thought of her clothes hanging right there next to his. “We’re back to short angry sentences and barely making eye contact.”

  “I’ve given you almost everything you wanted. There is no way you can complain.”

  She snorted. “Of course I can.”

  “Becca—”

  The tension swirled around the small space, bouncing off every counter and cabinet. She rushed to diffuse it before it built to an explosion. “And you didn’t give me everything I want.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  No way was she elaborating on that. “Tell me what happened downstairs.”

  He put the bottle on the edge of the sink. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “I’m here. Talk to me.” She wanted to go to him. Skim her hands over his chest and dip her head in for a kiss.

  She leaned in to do just that, but his words stopped her.

  “You are a convenient sex partner. Nothing else.”

  The tightness ran out of every muscle. Her chest and shoulders fell. Hell, she’d bet she lost three inches of height. He crushed her and stared at her as if daring her to complain about the killing blow.

  “You always have to do that,” she said, forcing the hurt out of her voice.

  “What?”

  “Put a wall between us.”

  “You mean like a prison wall?”

  God, he just wouldn’t stop. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “We’re not dating.”

  The verbal thrust slipped right through her ribs, pinning her to the cabinet. Her stomach ached. Without thinking, she held a hand to her middle before her insides could spill out. “I’m aware of that, Jarrett.”

  “And I don’t trust you.”

  For some reason, that cut sliced even deeper. He launched his shots so fast and so furious she couldn’t take cover or find an inch of armor. “Maybe, but you need to talk with someone.”

  “What I need is a good hard fuck.”

  Every word carried a zinger. With each syllable he tried to bat her away. This was about flailing and thrashing. About throwing verbal punches and landing them faster and faster as she fought back but lost ground.

  The obvious choice was to stomp off and say no to him for the first time since she showed up at his door. She considered it as she bit her bottom lip. Then her gaze slipped to his hands and the death grip on the counter behind him, and she decided to hold on tighter.

  “Okay.” That’s all she said. One word.

  His eyes widened. “You’re volunteering?”

  “Do you have another woman waiting somewhere to service you?” If he said yes, she might just find that killing spoon.

  “Not right now.”

  She took that as a green light and moved. Her hands skimmed up and under the edges of his suit jacket. “Then I’m here.”

  “Just like that?”

  “You need relief.” She kissed his chin. His neck. “I’ll provide it.”

  He grabbed her hands and held her out from him a few inches. “Why in the hell would you agree to those terms?”

  “That was the agreement I made when I walked into the building.”

  “Tell me to go to hell.” His grip eased, but he didn’t let go. “Christ, Becca. I’m not one of your assignments.”

  The blows kept coming. His face flushed as he found new vicious ways to phrase things. Ways that would hurt the most.

  “You think the sex is just for you? That I don’t want it, too?”

  At her words, his thumb traced a pattern against her palm. “I’m the one demanding it.”

  “And I’ve taken the lead.” Little did he know there were times when she wanted to cross that huge room between their bedroom and bust down the door. “Do you want to know why?”

  “No.”

  “You are raging and fighting me, but deep down you hear me. You understand the wanting runs both ways.”

  He shook his head. “This is about bodies.”

  “You’re telling me any female body would do?”

  He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say got lost when he shut it again. A few seconds ticked by before he finally came up with something. “It’s just sex.”

  “Not for me.” Her hand brushed over his cheek. When he didn’t push her away, she caressed his lips and chin.

  “What are you saying?” The words whispered between them.

  She smiled when the puff of air blew across her lips. “Let me show you.”

  Before he could back away or come up with a new sentence to sh
ow her how little she meant to him, she closed in. Her hands went to his tie. With a tug, she pulled him into the family room. He turned to head for the guest room. She was having none of that.

  “The floor.” She kissed him then. A long and lingering touch of her lips against his. “You on your back.” She licked her tongue around the outside of his ear. “Me straddling you.”

  “Fuck, yes.” He said the words on a harsh breath.

  Not giving him time to change his mind, she slid her fingers into his hair and held him close. He swept her up in a kiss that robbed her balance. Heat wrapped around them and his muscles tensed. No longer trying to duck out of her hold, he had his arms around her waist now.

  “You remember my favorite position, don’t you?” She nuzzled the sensitive space just under his ear and felt him shudder. “How you suck my nipples as I ride you?”

  He ripped his jacket off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. She stripped off his tie. Four hands and deep breathing. In the rush to get to his bare chest, she tore at his shirt. The expensive material ripped but he didn’t even flinch.

  “Now you. Take the shirt off.” He ripped his hand down the front of the dress shirt she wore. The buttons pinged as they flew off and bounced against the floor.

  The room tipped and her feet left the floor. When the blur of movement focused again she was on top of him on the area rug. “Impressive.”

  He swept a hand down her stomach then lower. A finger rubbed against her. “I want your pussy, your nipples. All of you.”

  She sat up and threw the shirt off. When she lay down again his finger inched into the crease of her ass. It traveled lower with the tip rimming her. “Right there, Jarrett.”

  His gaze searched her face. “You make me . . .”

  He kissed her until the last of her breath left her body. She clung to him as she rubbed her lower half over his cock.

  She smiled when he groaned. “Hot?”

  “Weak.”

  The compliment sent a shot of light through her. “When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk.”

  FIFTEEN

  Jarrett had no idea how he got downstairs an hour later. He’d tried to ignore the text messages he’d been getting since yesterday. When he got up to number four, he threw up the white flag.