Mercer: Prophets MC

by Laura Day

  I clutched my keys tighter in my hand, holding them up, ready to attack. My heart pounded in my chest, and I was more on edge than usual, thanks to Mercer. I hurried across the parking lot; thankful that I’d changed into tennis shoes earlier. It wasn't long before I was at my car, an early 90s Toyota Camry I'd picked up after an exceptionally good weekend at the club. Because of the age of the car, though, I had no remote control or automatic locks I could trigger from a distance. I had to manually unlock the car. I hurried, trying to locate the correct key in the darkness then pressed it into the lock. The clicking of the locks as they disengaged sent a bolt of relief through my entire body, but before I could open the door, a hand pushed it shut.

  A scream caught in my throat and my heart nearly burst out of my chest. Was it Ricky? Had he found me?

  I turned, preparing myself to fight when Mercer grabbed both of my hands. I knew it was him even though his face was half in shadow. For a brief moment, I was relieved, but then it occurred to me that perhaps he was a deranged stalker or something.

  “What do you want?” I asked, pulling my arms free.

  “I just wanted to make sure you're okay, Valencia,” he said. “I didn't mean to grab you like that, I just saw the mace in your hand and didn't want to get sprayed.”

  “Val. Call me Val, if you must use my real name.” I shook as I spoke. “But please, tell me why you keep checking up on me like this? I don't know you yet you obviously know me. You have me royally freaked out.”

  “I'm sorry,” he said, licking his lips.

  He was showing a sign of weakness or, at least, compassion. He'd apologized, which was also a good sign. It meant I'd gotten through to him.

  But it wasn't enough.

  “Sorry isn't going to cut it,” I told him. “I need answers. And I need them right the fuck now, or else I'm going to scream bloody murder and the bouncers will come out here and kick your ass.”

  The small smirk that played on his lips told me that last bit amused him. Maybe because, like me, he wasn't so sure those bouncers could hold their own against him.

  “I'm not going to hurt you, I promise,” he said, his voice calm and smooth. “I just need to know – do you know someone named Ricky?”

  My pulse quickened. “Yeah, he's an ex of mine – why do you ask?”

  “Goddamn Bates,” Mercer cursed under his breath, his fists clenched. He paced around in front of me, agitated, almost like he wanted to punch something.

  “What's going on?” I demanded, grabbing his arm.

  I tried to make him look at me, but as soon as he turned his eyes toward me, I regretted that decision. There was so much fury in them, and I couldn't tell if he was mad at me or someone else.

  “You're scaring me, Mercer,” I said. “Ricky was – well, Ricky was an abusive asshole. He hurt me badly, and I want nothing to do with him. Please don’t say he has found me?”

  Mercer took a deep breath, his eyes softening. I felt tears welling in my eyes as I shivered, even though it wasn't that cold. He looked at me but said nothing.

  “Please, tell me what's going on,” I begged. “Do I need to run again?”

  Reaching out his hand, he stroked my cheek and then cupped it in his hand. “Just stay low for a bit and I'll be back. Get in your car, go straight home, and we'll talk soon.

  I didn't know what it was about him, but I believed his words. He didn't make me feel threatened. Quite the opposite. He made me feel…safe.

  Tears stained my cheeks, but I managed a nod. Mercer walked away, and I did exactly what he told me to – I got in my car and drove home to my daughter, all the while trying my hardest not to cry, as I shook in my seat.

  Chapter Seven

  Mercer

  “What the fuck, Bates? A kid? A scared as shit little girl? Are you fuckin' kidding me? What were you thinking?” I stared down at my club president, towering over him by several inches.

  But I knew better than to underestimate him. What Bates lacked in height, he more than made up for in ruthlessness.

  He smiled at me and shrugged. “Money is money, Mercer. It’s all spent the same. I don't look into all the hits I take on. I don't need the details, and neither do you.”

  “So now we do the dirty work for abusive, woman-beating assholes?”

  I slammed my fists onto the counter to emphasize my point. The wood cracked, and the whole thing started to shake. But Bates didn't seem to care. Nothing intimidated him. He had his men to back him up.

  “So you talked to her, I assume?” he asked, a beer in hand, and a smug ass look on his face.

  Bates was a shorter, stockier man with a long beard and even longer hair that was now gray from age. He had one good eye – the other lost when he was younger, in a bar fight. He wore a black eye patch like a goddamn pirate.

  “I did, and listen, Bates – she's nothing but a scared kid,” I told him. “We can't do this.”

  “Oh we can and we will,” he said, taking a long swig of his beer. “Ricky Stroud made it perfectly clear, we kill the girl, or we don't get paid.”

  “Then we don't get paid for this job. It’s not like we need the money anyway – ”

  “You think this is easy, Mercer? Keeping The Prophets going?” Bates stared at me, fire in his eyes. “I have to make the hard choices sometimes, and this is one of 'em. We don't turn down paying jobs once we take 'em on. That's not how we fucking roll.”

  “Well fuck me, I guess I was mistaken. I thought The Prophets were above killing little girls who didn't do nothin' but end up on the wrong side of some prick's fist – but I guess I was wrong.”

  Bates put his beer down on the counter, turning his one good eye on me. Maybe he knew me better than I thought because it took everything in me not to punch his goddamn face in.

  “Listen, Mercer. Listen real carefully, alright?” he stepped right up to me, standing as tall as he could. “You're not the leader here, I am. You don't call the shots, you don't tell me what we can and can't do as a club. And if you don't want to finish the job, I'll find someone else who will.”

  My fists were balled up, ready to go. But Bates had me. Several of the other men had joined us and were crowded around our leader, staring at me as if to warn me not to do anything. Their eyes pleaded with me. They didn't want to hurt or to take me down, but I knew they would if it came to that. Club before friends. That's just the way we fuckin' rolled.

  I couldn't blame them, either. At one time, I'd have been beside them too. Protecting Bates with my life. That was before, though. This was now. Somewhere along the line, something inside our leader had shifted. He'd become different. Harder. Meaner. A little more greedy and sadistic. I had to wonder – was this Ricky Stroud asshole paying Bates more than he'd told us? Was there something else about this deal that I didn't know about?

  Or was Bates just a greedy asshole; the remnants of a once great leader finally dead and gone, forever. He used to be a good man, who did the right thing. Or at least, tried to. Back then I would have followed him down to the gates of hell itself. Today, though? Not so much.

  “Do you understand me?” Bates snarled, his breath coming out hot and heavy.

  “Oh, I understand,” I said. “I understand more than you'll ever know.”

  Bates stepped away from me, leaned back on the counter, picked his beer back up, and drank it, watching me the entire time. The other men stepped back too, seemingly relieved that it didn't come down to a fight, but stayed nearby, just in case.

  “Good, I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” Bates said. “Get it done, and get it done fast. Ricky is tired of waiting, and hell, so am I.”

  ***

  Bates assumed I'd agreed to get on with the job, but there was no fuckin' way I could do it. No fuckin' way. And there was no way I was gonna let someone else do it either. I had to buy us some time – or rather, Val some time. And the only way was to tell Bates I'd do what he asked. While he waited for me to pull the trigger, I was going to come up with anothe
r plan; a way to keep Val safe from Ricky, and Bates, while also not tipping her off about my role in all this.

  Easier said than done, of course. First of all, she needed to trust me. Considering that she had recoiled like I was going to attack her when she saw me, that wasn't going to be an easy task. I saw that she was afraid of me. Not that I blamed her. But somehow, I'd have to win her over. And I'd have to do it fast.

  Not that I was the trustworthiest guy. I wasn't. I'd done some shit in my life – shit I wasn't proud of, but I'd never kill a woman because her asshole ex paid me. Even I had my limits, and once, Bates did too. Or at least, I thought he did. I had no idea what had changed and happened to the guy. Or maybe he'd been a dick the whole time and I’d simply been delusional. My only guess was that it was the money making him turn away from everything we’d stood for as a club. Bates was spiraling out of control, and he was taking the club down with him.

  I pulled up outside the Ace of Hearts and switched off my bike. I sat there for a moment, staring at the neon lights, the city of Las Vegas glowing in the distance, gaudy and loud. But out here…there was nothing but darkness, and desert dust swirling in the air.

  The music thumped from inside the club – getting louder every time the front door swung open. I'd told Val the truth: this wasn't my scene. Paying a woman to strip for me? Hell no. I never paid for that shit. Not that I judged the women who worked there – they had to do what they had to do. Didn't we all? And if they could get paid for showing off their tits and ass, more power to them. But I'd never had to pay for pussy.

  A group of men – probably a bachelor party – walked toward the front door. One man was the center of attention – the lucky groom, I figured. He had a goofy ass smile as his friends hooted and hollered about the hot ass they were about to see inside.

  At least it would be a busy night, more reason for me to delay the act. Not like I could kill Val with a bunch of drunk thirty-something-year-olds around. They would give me cover, too.

  I walked in behind the bachelor party and sat in my usual booth. One of the other strippers – an older blonde woman with too much eye makeup – grinned at me. We'd talked before. She knew I was there for only one girl, and she walked toward the back. Another girl – a cocktail waitress in a tight mini skirt – stopped by and asked if I'd like something to drink.

  I passed this time. No drinking tonight. I needed to be sober for what was about to go down.

  “Queenie will be out soon,” the girl said with a friendly smile.

  Apparently, I was becoming a regular they knew on sight. Who knew?

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Looking at her, I shook my head. The girl couldn't be more than twenty-one. As she walked away, her tiny, perky ass shook a little more than seemed natural – as if she was doing it on purpose.

  “Back again?” a voice said, pulling my gaze away from the waitress's assets.

  “I told you I would be,” I replied.

  Val slid into the booth wearing a black bra and leather G-string. Rings and ribbons held the thing together, wrapping around her waist and showing off her perfect hourglass figure. How she put that thing on, I had no clue – but it looked damn fine on her. That was all that mattered, right?

  Val leaned in closer, giving a quick glance around the room. Her bright red lipstick shined in the lights, her face glowing with glitter. I opened my mouth to speak and then shut it again, unsure of what to say.

  “What's going on, Mercer?”

  If I told her the truth - that I'd been hired to kill her – would she trust me? Not likely.

  “I'm going to protect you, Val.” It was all I could think to say. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “You're going to protect me?” she looked surprised. “Why would you do that? And protect me from what?”

  “Because I don't appreciate men who beat their girlfriends, that's why.”

  She sat back in the booth, a startled look on her pretty, sweet face. She looked around the room again, fear touching her features as if she expected Ricky to be there.

  “I don't understand,” she finally said, her voice coming out as a muffled whisper. “Why me?”

  I shrugged. “Why not you? Aren't you just as deserving as any other victim out there?”

  Her dark eyes appeared to search mine. Like she was reading every inch of my face, looking for any sign that I was lying or untrustworthy. I knew I'd have to earn her trust, somehow, and I had to do it fast before Bates sent someone else out to do the job.

  Chapter Eight

  Valencia

  Laila was asleep in her crib when I’d got home. Kelly was tired and had left pretty quickly, still refusing the cash from the other night. I had to admit to how terrible my tips had been lately, thanks to being distracted by this Mercer drama, I needed the money. And I didn't see the drama going away anytime soon either. He still refused to tell me why he felt the need to protect me, which made me worry, and put, even more, questions in my head.

  Did he know something I didn't? Had Ricky contacted him? But why? If Ricky wanted to drag me home, why didn't he come out here himself?

  I sat down on the bed, exhausted, my feet killing me from a long night at the club. Tonight hadn't any better than the last few nights had been, money-wise. I needed to find a way to stop being so preoccupied with Mercer if I wanted to keep a roof over our heads.

  Easier said than done, though.

  Something about the stoic biker unnerved me, but not in the way I would have expected. Rationally, I knew I should be scared of him rather than intrigued. I didn't know why, but I trusted him – even though I knew I probably shouldn't. I knew so little about him, except for the fact that he was a biker and was somehow connected to Ricky.

  Now was not the time to get tangled up with an older man, especially one tied to The Prophets. Not when I had to take care of my little girl and myself. Laila depended on me to make the right decisions for her, and getting involved with Mercer could be dangerous for both of us. What if he wasn't the good guy he painted himself to be?

  My eyelids were heavy, but I gave myself a little smack to wake up. I needed to change, and put some food in my belly too. Laila whimpered in her sleep, making my heart falter, and my eyes widen. Any sound or movement from her could pull me from a dead sleep.

  Oh, what I wouldn't do for her.

  But she seemed to be okay and in a deep sleep herself. I smiled as I felt my eyes growing heavy again. As darkness filled my vision, an image of Mercer seared in my head - his soft, yet rugged face, the wrinkles around his eyes that made him look, somehow, gentler, and his dark, silky hair loose and free from the ponytail. Not that I ever saw his hair loose and free, but I could imagine it.

  I slipped into dreamland, thinking about how nice it would be to feel safe again, to not have to look over my shoulder and jump at every shadow. There was something about Mercer; something I couldn't put my finger on. For some reason, he made me feel safe. Maybe he could protect Laila and me? Maybe I'd finally find the peace I was looking for.

  Yet, it all seemed too good to be true. But isn't that what dreams are for?

  ***

  “Back again, I see?”

  Mercer was standing outside the back entrance of the club, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. The way he stood looked like he worked there, and no one stopped him or told him to move along – probably because with his bulging muscles and dark sunglasses, he looked like one of the biggest, burliest bouncers around.

  “I told you I'm going to keep you safe,” he said, opening the door for me. “I'm a man of my word.”

  “You do know you're not supposed to be back here, right?” I couldn't help but laugh as he followed me into the club.

  “I'm back here, aren't I?” He took off his sunglasses and put them in his pocket. “Besides, let's see them try to stop me.”

  I guess this is what it felt like to have your own personal bodyguard. A girl could get used to it, sure, but I couldn't risk
getting in trouble with Sherry, especially not after my weak performances the last few nights. I needed the job and the money it brought in.

  Biting my lip, I gazed up at him, pleading with my eyes. “Is it possible for you to keep an eye on me, on the club floor like a normal customer? There are rules, and a girl has to work, you know? And this is where we change and get ready, so – ”

  Mercer nodded. “I just wanted to see you in, Val. That's all. I'll go out front, where I belong.”

  Angel and Trinity came out back at the same time, caught a look at Mercer and looked shocked. Angel's eyes were wide and sparkled with glee – as if this was just the drama she needed to get me fired. Trinity, on the other hand, rushed over and took my hand.