Mercy

by Dimon, HelenKay

  Leaving Becca proved harder. He’d never be able to sit in that family room again without seeing her looming over him as she pressed her breasts to his mouth.

  Damn.

  He got off the elevator and headed for the bar. With a quick wave of thanks to the chef who stood guard, Jarrett cleared the room. All except the woman at the bar.

  He took in the black skirt and slim-fitting sweater and knew he was going to regret this. “Kyra?”

  She spun the stool around and flashed him a welcoming smile. Her shoulder-length blond hair fell around her face but her long legs stayed crossed. “If it isn’t D.C. powerhouse superstar Jarrett Holt.”

  “Have you been reading my email again?” He leaned in for a hug and short kiss on the cheek.

  “As if you share your emails with anyone.”

  “Very true.” He slid onto the stool next to her and leaned against the bar. “What are you drinking?”

  “Club soda.” She shook the glass and the ice cubes clinked. “Your award-winning chef was nice enough to scramble around behind the bar and find this for me.”

  “Probably had something to do with how cute you are. He has a weakness for twentysomethings.” Jarrett hitched his chin in the general direction of the glass. “Still, nicely done.”

  “Thought you’d approve.”

  After diving into one whiskey bottle after another when he got out of jail, he refrained from alcohol. Losing control qualified as one of his greatest fears. Between the member issues and running his club, he didn’t have time to waste recovering from a hard night.

  “Now that we’ve exchanged greetings, what’s with all the secret phone calls and requests for a private meeting?” He held up his phone and shook it.

  “Can’t a girl say stop by and say hi?”

  He saw the trap right there in front of him ready to spring. “Sure.”

  “That’s convincing.”

  Laughter filled her voice and he wondered how the boys at college resisted her. For their sake, he hoped they did. He’d hate to have to kill some kid for looking at her funny. “Since you never do, I’m wondering what you’re doing here.”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  That sounded bad. “Really?”

  “You underestimate your charm.”

  But he recognized hers and stayed on his game. She was about to try to wrangle something out of him. And she was one of the few people with that gift. The other was upstairs in the shower. “Not even a little.”

  Kyra shrugged. “Well, I tried.”

  Jarrett glanced at the hidden camera over the bar and started the countdown to Wade storming in. “You’re going to get us both killed.”

  “That’s awfully dramatic.”

  “There are security cameras in here, you know. Wade is probably on his way downstairs to beat the crap out of me right now.” When it came to being a big brother, Wade took the role seriously. Since Jarrett thought of Kyra as a sister, he did, too.

  “I’m not afraid of Wade. “

  “Then you’re one of the few.”

  “He’s an overprotective big brother but pretty cuddly underneath.”

  Jarrett wondered how hard he’d get punched if he called Wade cuddly to his face. Hard to image the former enforcer tolerating that nickname. “Let me assure you that you are one of the only people on earth who thinks so.”

  She frowned at him. “Tell me why would he care if we were talking.”

  “Haven’t you heard? I’m trouble.” Not that Jarrett played with women this young or so close to home.

  “Oh, Jarrett.” She put her hand on his knee. “Any woman with half a brain would recognize that.”

  There was nothing sexual about the touch. She was one who hugged and reached out. It meant nothing, but that didn’t promise it would translate that way for the camera. “Always knew you were a smart one.”

  “Got the whole ‘hide the women and lock the doors’ speech about you from Wade long ago.” She waved her hands as she talked in an exaggerated drawl.

  “I’m thinking I should be insulted.”

  “Nah, it was typical big brother stuff.”

  “Just so you know, Wade has threatened to beat me to death if I even look at you for more than two seconds.”

  “He’s an idiot, but I love the big lug.” She shook her head. “And I can’t believe he threatened his boss.”

  “He likes to think he’s tough.”

  She winked. “Your virtue is safe with me.”

  “Good to know.” Now that they’d circled and stalled, he went in for the hunt. The club didn’t open for hours, but he had mounds of paperwork and a call from Bast that needed a return. “So, if you’re not here to drag me to bed, why are you here?”

  She wrinkled her nose, something she’d been doing since her gawky teen-girl days. He’d known her for more than a decade and watched her grow and change. There was nothing awkward about her now. The braces were long gone, as was the stick figure.

  Her ability to gain his full attention wasn’t. “Kyra? Spill it.”

  “A job.”

  Not the request he expected. “Excuse me?”

  “I want to work here.”

  He glanced at the kitchen door, then to the dark back hallway. There was no place for her in his world, which made his response quick and easy. “No way.”

  “I am finishing up my master’s degree. I need some cash.”

  International business. He knew this part because he’d helped her decide between graduate programs. “I’ll give you money.”

  She shoved against his arm. “Now who’s being insulting?” She rolled her eyes, looking every bit the troublemaker she’d always been. “What I want is a chance to make some money.”

  “Pick one of the million other businesses in the D.C. metro area. Tell me what you want and I’ll make some calls.”

  “I don’t want you pushing people around to get me in somewhere. I want to be here.”

  “Wade will never let that happen.”

  “He insists the business is legitimate.”

  A kick of satisfaction hit Jarrett at that. Seeing where Wade was now, strong and sure of who he was, compared to before never got old. He was self-made with his criminal past well behind him. “It is.”

  “Then why can’t I put on an apron and help out? Metaphorically, of course. I doubt the women here wear aprons.” She wrinkled up her nose. “Not sexy.”

  His mind flashed to the overzealous, too-much-drinking dinner groups that set up in his club at least once per week. Gambling was a regular part of the club activities, and Jarrett could see some of the conscience-light losers make getting her naked a sick game.

  No fucking way. “I’m thinking the objection has something to do with all the men who hang out here and how Wade wants you fitted for a chastity belt.”

  “For God’s sake. I’m not a virgin.”

  The reveal skidded across Jarrett’s brain. “That is not information I need to know.”

  “Give me a chance.”

  He stood up and held out a hand to her. “What you can do is come into the office and we’ll figure out where else you can work, preferably in an office that won’t lead to my death at the hands of my club manager.”

  Her shoulders fell. “You ruin all my fun.”

  • • •

  Becca sat in his condo office and stared at the empty space at the bar downstairs through the security feed. Ten seconds ago Jarrett stood there with a hot blonde. Now Becca saw nothing but abandoned barstools. She clicked on random computer keys trying to track them but nothing happened.

  Then she tried the up arrow.

  Then the tab . . . ah, there he was.

  With a swipe of his card, he guided the woman holding his arm into his office and shut the door behind them. After nine slaps of t
he tab key, Becca realized the camera coverage didn’t extend to his private office.

  How freaking convenient.

  She stood up, forgetting the files and notepads and even the computer, and moved to the doorway. She was debating the trouble she’d cause if she smashed the monitor against the floor. Or she could rip off the front door and pound down the walls until she got downstairs.

  Yeah, nothing irrational about any of that.

  Jealousy. She wasn’t a fan.

  Sure, the fact he “tried” out the female staff shouldn’t be a surprise. She shouldn’t care. She’d had sex on the job. Hell, he started out as her sex on the job. But there had been no one since him. The idea of letting another man touch her, kiss her, enter her . . . no way. Not yet.

  She rubbed her forehead as she paced her way into the family room. Nothing about her surroundings registered. She couldn’t get around the fact she’d been all over the man less than an hour ago.

  Glancing down, she stared at the spot on the floor where they rolled over and she straddled him, taking him deep and riding him until they both sprawled out exhausted. He’d showered and gone downstairs, claiming he was already late. Unable to hold off another second, she’d headed for his office for a quick look around the computer. Now she was sorry she hurried or ever even ventured into that room.

  “What are you doing?” Jarrett’s voice cut through her mental wanderings.

  She’d been so lost in her pacing and internal whining that she missed the lock and the door and any other noise that could have signaled his arrival. She froze in the middle of the floor and stared at him, wondering how long she’d been lost in her internal raging. Then she looked at him, really looked, for any sign that some part of his suit had spent a few minutes on the floor or around his knees.

  Nothing obvious.

  She squinted as she scanned him for evidence. “You were just in your office.”

  “I see you checked out the security system already.” He threw his keys on the couch cushion. “Didn’t take long.”

  “Was there supposed to be a waiting period?”

  “Fair enough.” He loosened his tie and dropped onto the couch cushion in front of her. He reached for the water bottle he stole from her earlier and abandoned.

  The damn man even whistled.

  “How did the meeting go?” she asked, knowing the answer.

  “Fine.”

  “She was pretty.” Becca meant to hold that piece in and prove she didn’t care. The misfire wrecked that plan pretty damn fast and had her swearing under her breath.

  He took a swallow of water then slowly lowered the bottle again. His throat moved but he didn’t say anything.

  “What, no comment from Mr. Super Businessman?”

  One of his eyebrows lifted. “What do you want me to say?”

  “For a guy who . . .”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” She waved him off. No way could she go there. The peace between them was shaky, at best. Bringing up his past—the forbidden subject—would guarantee more snapping and fury. The constant smash of anger exhausted her.

  “Finish the sentence,” he demanded.

  She pretended not to care. Even flicked her wrist and waved him off. “It’s your life. You can do whatever you want.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  His nonchalance finally broke her. The words came spilling out before she could call them back. “You throw around the word ‘whore’ and—”

  “When?”

  “Talking about your mother.”

  The relaxed stance disappeared. Now he sat up straight, fully engaged. “What does she have to do with this conversation?”

  “Nothing.” Becca expected an abrupt end, possibly followed by him leaving the building. Wouldn’t be the first time. She got a confused stare instead.

  “I have no idea what we’re talking about.”

  “The blonde.” When his mouth fell open, Becca picked at the wound one more time. No matter how she tried to block the image, it kept floating through her head. “What, did you forget her name already? Typical male. The bra is back on and her name is gone from your head.”

  The jackass had the nerve to smile. “Do you honestly think I had sex with you, then went downstairs and had sex with another woman ten minutes later?”

  The arguments flooding Becca’s brain just a second ago vanished. “What?”

  “You fucking drained me dry, woman.”

  A sudden heat moved over her cheeks. Not one to embarrass easily, the sensation freaked her out. “But I saw—”

  “Damn, Becca. I’m not sixteen.” He leaned forward with his elbows balanced on his knee . . . and a stupid grin plastered on his face. “A guy needs some recovery time.”

  Now there was new information. “You haven’t that I’ve ever noticed.”

  “Admittedly, I tend to bounce back quickly with you, but I can assure you I did not run downstairs and have sex with someone else.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she swallowed it. Yeah, that news made her far too happy.

  She waved him off, hoping he didn’t see the slight shake in her hand. “It’s not my business.”

  “It is to the extent a woman has the right to know who’s been climbing all over her.”

  Her hand fell to her side as her mind went blank. “When you put it that way . . .”

  “There were days, long ago, when I did have sex with the staff. It was part of the strip club benefits. The women wanted perks and, well, I didn’t exactly say no to much back then.” He stood up and joined her on the same side of the couch. “It’s part of the reason I wanted out of that business. I ended up playing part-time bouncer and full-time rescuer to some of the women. Not my thing.”

  She once craved the information, needed it for the job. Now she wanted to plug her ears and wipe it from her brain. “Okay.”

  “Point is, I don’t have sex with the staff now. I have a pretty firm rule against it, actually.”

  And like that, he blew apart every rumor winging around town. People said he had a knack with the ladies, which she could attest to. Many people saw the private club as a front for sex. He probably would have been investigated for that if the membership rolls didn’t included judges, prosecutors and quite a few elected officials.

  The party line insisted this was an old-fashioned supper club. Food, business talk and that was about it. For a long time Becca questioned what happened in the back rooms, but something in Jarrett’s stunned tone and calm body language told her he was telling the truth on this.

  But Becca still had one question. “The woman?”

  “Wade’s sister.”

  “He has a sister?” Becca barely thought of him as human.

  “Half, but he doesn’t make the distinction.” Jarrett balanced an arm along the back of the couch. “Did you miss the fact she’s something like twenty-two or twenty-three? A tad young for me, don’t you think.”

  Oh, please. “Right, because no old dude in D.C. has a hot, much younger second or third wife.”

  “You’re calling me old?”

  “Older.” At almost thirty-five he was mature and hot and the perfect age for anything.

  “I can accept that description.” He cleared his throat. “I guess.”

  “In my defense, I thought all guys liked the young-and-firm sort of thing.”

  “That part is worth something, yes. But my feelings in this case, for her, are purely brotherly.”

  The idea of him thinking in family terms had Becca reeling. “Is she okay?”

  “Her name is Kyra and she wants a job.” He sounded confused by the idea. “Apparently she doesn’t care if I give her one and Wade then kills me.”

  After fueling her anger with each passing minute while he was gone, Becca found her first
laugh. “I’m guessing he’s overprotective.”

  “Understatement.” Jarrett sighed. “He’d go batshit crazy if I hired her and put her in the path of some of the idiots who have a membership here.”

  Becca tried to imagine what the men downstairs would do to a nice young woman. They’d make promises and show off their wealth and power. A potentially pretty ugly scene actually. “But he could watch over her here.”

  “Kyra tried that argument. The answer is still no.”

  “That explains why the meeting with her was so quick. I didn’t think you’d . . . well, you get the idea.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment on my advanced foreplay skills.”

  One more second on that topic and Becca would have him on the floor again. “Okay, I need to take that shower.”

  She had to leave before the two remaining buttons on her shirt gave up the battle. He’d been inside her at least twice per day since she arrived. He’d leave her bed right after sex each night—and she hated reaching out and feeling the cool sheets—but she couldn’t argue about performance.

  “For the record.” His voice stopped her. “I don’t have a problem with prostitution.”

  She took her time turning around to face him. She kept the edges of her shirt wadded in a ball in her fist. “I’m thinking most men feel that way.”

  “I’m saying I don’t care if a woman wants to charge to have sex. That’s her business. Her body, her decision.” He stood up and moved to stand in front of her. “I’d want her to be safe, of course, but if she does it to survive or for fun—that’s not my place to judge.”

  The comment, offered without any judgment, didn’t fit with what she knew or anything he’d said before. “But your mother—”

  The amusement left his face. “She had sex for money, for food and one time for a television.”

  “Which is why you call her a whore.” The logic had Becca confused. For some women it was fine, for others not?

  Jarrett wasn’t perfect, but he usually thrived on consistency. It was the one thing she depended on, which was why finding the evidence that supported the dealing had slammed into her so hard.