Mercy: Second Chance Military Romance

by Abbi Hemp

  “Charles does a great job,” he said then picked up a piece of meat with his fork.

  “I don’t think I can finish it all.”

  I put my fork on the plate and pushed it away.

  “You eat like a bird.”

  “You sound like my father.”

  “I’d like to meet him some day.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I had introduced the two, but still hadn’t told Brent about my father or the fact I worked for the DEA and wasn’t a reporter for High Times. With all the resources at his disposal, I wondered if he had looked into my identity at all.

  “You okay?” he asked then took a drink of wine.

  “Yeah,” I lied then smiled to reassure him.

  Meanwhile, a thousand different thoughts went through my mind. I had to tell him the truth, but the time wasn’t right. Instead, I beat myself up in my mind over the matter. Why am I so weak all the time? If this guy is the one, I need to tell him the truth.

  “You’re getting that look,” he said.

  “What look?”

  “Like you’re about to run away again.”

  “No,” I said then stopped, unsure of what else to say.

  “Great. I want to get your opinion on this new weed your grower gave me.”

  “Is he working out?” I asked, hating myself for the lies.

  “Yeah, so far. He’s outdone himself with what he gave me. I’m definitely going to win the Cannabis Cup this year.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “I’m not sure if I should smoke again.”

  “Come on,” he said. “It will be fun. I promise.”

  I thought about his body moving against mine.

  “Okay…”

  He pushed his chair back then stood up and clapped his hands together.

  “Charles will take care of this for us. Let’s go out back in the garden and watch the sun set.”

  “You’re so romantic for a businessman.”

  “Well, before I got into the burgeoning weed industry, I painted.”

  “Get out of here,” I said, standing up.

  “I’m serious.”

  “You have to show me some of your paintings.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “First, let’s toke up.”

  “Lead the way.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, we sat next to each other at a metal table with an umbrella over it. The small, fat candle he had lit sat between us.

  “You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked. “It’s powerful stuff.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He took a hit off the portable vaporizer in his hand then passed it to me. I knew my dad was working on a potent strain of marijuana, but I had no idea he’d gotten so far. After a single toke, my body relaxed. The scent of the candle – cranberries – hit me.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Right?”

  We each took a few more hits. If I got high enough, maybe I would have the courage to tell him the truth or at least have it slip out of me. The ludicrousness of the whole situation caused me to giggle.

  “Don’t start giggling,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Laughing is good.”

  He laughed out loud at my pointing out the obvious.

  I smiled and looked across the table at him, admiring the fierce features of his face. His eyes alone made me melt when he pointed them at me like laser beams of love. I laughed again.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Laser beams of love,” I mumbled.

  “Okay,” he said, smiling. “I don’t understand, but okay.”

  I stood up, never the type of person who sat around after getting high.

  “Your yard is so beautiful,” I said, glancing around. “Is that a bush maze?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Bet you can’t catch me!”

  I darted away toward the entrance of the maze.

  “Hey!” he cried out, chasing after me.

  Feeling like a teenager again, I dashed into the maze, turning left and running. The tall bushes blocked everything from sight as I ran.

  “You’ll never catch me!” I yelled.

  “Just wait until I do!” he called.

  I sped up, making a left then a right, already hopelessly lost.

  “Where did you go?” he asked from a row over.

  My laughter gave me away.

  “I know this maze better than you.”

  After taking off running, I made a few more turns, ending up in a wide grassy area in middle of the maze. A marble statue of a half-naked woman in a toga stood in the center of the open space. I ran to the statue, stopping and leaning against the base.

  He came into view as I caught my breath.

  Why does he make me feel so young?

  My heart beat quickly as he slowly approached. Step by step, he got closer to me.

  “I found you,” he said.

  “You did. Now what?”

  “You know what,” he said, stopping in front of me.

  I stared into his eyes, willing to do anything for him in that moment.

  He unbuttoned my pants and slid them down.

  “Turn around,” he ordered.

  As I obeyed, I wondered if there was anything I wouldn’t do for him.

  I felt his hands snake around my waist and move to my breasts, massaging them through my blouse.

  “You like this, don’t you?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yeah,” I said so silently.

  He pulled my panties down.

  “Spread your legs.” I complied. “That’s it…”

  Slick fingers reached between my legs and rubbed my pussy lips, getting me so wet as I held onto the concrete base of the statue with my ass sticking out. I shouldn’t be doing this with him. Why can’t I stop? He better not quit. Not now.

  He replaced his fingers with the head of his hard cock. As it pressed against the opening of my pussy, I reached down and rubbed myself.

  “Fuck,” he grunted as he slid his dick all the way in with one quick motion.

  “Yes…” I moaned.

  As I rubbed my clit, he thrust his huge cock in and out of my tight, wet pussy. Each time he pushed in, I pressed my hips back, causing him to burrow in even deeper. He places his hands on my hips while he fucked me so fast and hard.

  Without a bra, my breasts hung down. The nipples brushing against my cotton shirt got me even more excited as he penetrated me completely.

  He pulled his dick out, surprising me for a moment. Did he want to switch positions already? We were outside, and I didn’t want to get on the ground.

  Before I had a chance to say anything, I felt the tip of his dick pressing against my asshole.

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” I said, standing up and turning around.

  “What?” he asked. “I thought you were kinky…”

  “I am, but you can’t just stick it in dry. When I do anal, I like to take it slow.”

  “I’m sorry. Can we just finish?”

  I stared at his cock in his hand then up to his eyes. The weed hit me all at once.

  “I need to go,” I said, bending down to pull up my panties.

  “Are you fucking serious right now?” he asked.

  “Don’t be an asshole, Brent.”

  I pulled up my pants and buttoned them.

  He stood there with his cock in his hand, still stroking it.

  “You can’t leave me like this,” he said.

  “Are you really trying to pressure me into sex right now? That’s not a good idea.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. Let’s just finish, okay?”

  I shook my head while frowning.

  “I’m going now,” I said.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

  “Take care of it yourself,” I said as I walked away.

  “Heidi!”

  I made it out of the clearing and headed toward the maze entrance. Part of me wanted to rush back and have him fuck me hard any way he desired, but
I could no longer deny my lack of professional ethics as a DEA agent.

  Was it the fact he tried to stick it in my ass or had I finally broken the sexual spell he had on me? As I walked to my car and got behind the steering wheel, no answers came to me. Whatever the reason, I had to cut off all personal relations with him. No matter what.

  NINETEEN

  Brent

  DEA Bad Boy

  After Heidi ran off – again – I promised myself I wouldn’t ever mess with her again. I got dressed and went inside, wondering if I should call one of the dozens of women who would let me fuck their ass or any other hole I wanted.

  What the hell is her problem? I thought as I retired to the master bedroom. As I laid on the bed with my hands behind my head, I made an attempt to get her out of my mind. My phone rang. I dug it out of my front pants pocket, convinced it was her.

  “Yeah?” I answered without looking at the name.

  “Is this Mr. Stone?” a male voice asked.

  I sat up and glanced at the phone – unknown number.

  “Yes, this is me. Who is this?”

  “You have my business card,” he said. “But you haven’t called me yet. I’m Ron Glass with the DEA.”

  “What’s this about?” I asked, getting out of bed. “You should call my attorneys.”

  “It’s nothing official, Mr. Stone. Can I call you Brent?”

  I didn’t answer. He continued.

  “You never called me, and we need to talk.”

  “About what?” I asked as I paced back and forth at the foot of my bed.

  “You like money, right?”

  “Look, I don’t have time for games.”

  “If you love money, you’re going to want to talk with me.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Set something up with my office. I’ll have my attorneys present.”

  “No, no. You don’t seem to understand. I need to talk with you privately. It’s important.”

  What the hell is this all about?

  “Fine,” I said. “Where do you want to meet?”

  “Come to my house,” I said.

  If he came over, I’d be able to get him on my many video surveillance cameras. Proof never hurt anyone.

  “I’m on my way now.”

  He ended the call. I put my phone into my front pants pocket then went into my study to wait for the DEA agent. What in the world did he want with me? And why wasn’t he going through official channels? Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  * * *

  An hour later, Keifer came into my study.

  “There’s a man at the gate who says he’s here to see you.”

  “Let him in,” I said.

  “He looks like…”

  “Just let him in, okay?” I interrupted.

  He lifted his arms, palm out.

  “Sorry, boss.”

  “It’s fine. Just show him up. Thanks.”

  As Keifer walked out of the room, I prepared myself mentally for whatever was about to happen. Over the years, I’d had many opportunities to work with the cartels or other organizations and make tons of money, but I’d always stayed on the right side of the law.

  Why the hell would a DEA agent want to talk with me?

  I pondered the question until a man wearing a dark suit walked in with a smile on his face.

  Is this guy a salesman or a government agent?

  He gave off a bad vibe.

  “Thanks for meeting with me,” he said.

  “No problem. Have a seat.”

  I nodded my head at the two leather arm-chairs directly in front of my desk. He sat down, still smiling.

  “Beautiful piece of property.”

  “Enough small-talk,” I said. “Why are you here? I follow all Colorado state laws, and…”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, cutting me off. “You’re not in any trouble. At least not yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I stared intently at his face, looking for any signs in his facial expressions.

  “Well, this is off the record, but you’re in a position to make a shitton of money.”

  “I already have more than enough money,” I said. “But go on.”

  “You need a little extra protection. I heard one of the cartels came after you the other day.”

  “Yeah, but I took care of it on my own.”

  “That time, but what about next time?”

  “What exactly are you trying to say?” I asked. “I don’t have much time.”

  “If you work with me and my cartel connections, you’re going to make even more money. The best thing is you don’t have to worry about anything because I’ll be on your side.”

  “This has to be the worst DEA stunt to entrap someone ever in the history of your corrupt organization.”

  He shook his head.

  “This isn’t a trick or a trap.”

  “You’re telling me you’re a dirty DEA agent, and you came to me for help?”

  “I wouldn’t use the word help, but yeah, basically. Don’t you want to make more money?”

  “Money isn’t everything,” I said.

  He glanced around the study.

  “You want to give all this up?”

  “What do you mean? Are you threatening me?”

  I sat up and leaned on the top of my desk.

  He gripped the arms of the chair.

  “No, no, not at all.” He paused. “Well, in a way, I guess you could say I am.”

  I stared into his eyes without saying a word.

  “Look. Either you get in on this with the cartels and myself, or you’re going to be stopped another way. There’s not enough room for a huge legal operation like yours.”

  He stood up. I did the same.

  “You have a lot of nerve coming here to threaten me,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, I guess I go. So what. Think about it. You don’t want to make the wrong decision.”

  I watched as he headed to the door.

  “Oh, one more thing,” he said, stopping and turning. “Be careful around Heidi. She works in my office too.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t know? She’s a lying bitch. Be careful around her.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  He turned and left.

  As I sat back down, a thousand thoughts hit my mind all at once. The most important ones were connected to Heidi. After everything that had happened, I still had not been able to move on. The new complications of a dirty DEA agent were also a huge concern.

  Should I go to the authorities? Would they take me seriously or side with one of their own? Federal agents had always been just friendly enough with me and my legal business in Colorado. They were not in the business of handing out favors or free passes, especially not to someone like me.

  I lit up a joint, wanting to deeply consider all my possibilities.

  TWENTY

  Brent

  Family Business

  The next day, Keifer drove me to Green Thumb, the mysterious grower who had provided me with award winning marijuana. After the dirty DEA agent had contacted me the night before, I had to make sure the grower would be able to deliver all the plants I needed in time.

  I had no desire to suddenly go dirty, but I craved more money. No matter how much I accumulated, it never gave me true peace or security, but financial independence wasn’t something I was ready to give up easily, not after working so hard to achieve what I had in a few short years.

  After Keifer parked in front of the house, I got out. The old man sat on the porch in a rocking chair. He lifted his hand and waved but didn’t move to get up. I walked over to the worn-down porch of the old farm house and walked up the steps.

  “How’s it going?”

  He shook his head with a frown etched on his wrinkled face.

  “Not good.”

  “What’s wrong? Is it the plants? Are you going to…”

  “Cancer,” he said, cutting me off.

  �
��They have cancer? I don’t understand.”

  “No, I do.”

  All emotion fell from my face.

  “Shit. I’m sorry…”

  What do you say in a situation like this?

  “It’s fine,” he said.

  “What kind?”

  “Skin cancer. They noticed it early, but I’m still freaking out because I refused to get Obamacare, and I don’t have health insurance.”

  “You refused?”

  “Don’t get me started on it,” he said, rocking a bit more furiously.

  I nodded. “Fine, but I can’t have you dying on me. Not when you’re so close to coming up with a super strain of marijuana. I’ll pay your medical costs. You said it’s in the early stages?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “They told me I spent too much time in the sun. Like there’s somewhere else a farmer like me can be all day.”

  I smiled.

  “Doctors can be odd sometimes.”

  “They said the safest way to take care of it is a laser, but it’s expensive.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Heidi recommended you, and I take care of my employees.”

  “She’s the best daughter a man could have,” he said, then added. “Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud?”

  “What do you mean? Is she your daughter?”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding his head.

  “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “Please don’t tell her I messed up. Or that I’m sick.”

  “She should know about the cancer.”

  He took a deep breath as if the weight of the world were on his chest.

  I took a business card out of my pocket.

  “Call me, and I’ll set you up with a doctor, okay?”

  “I couldn’t…”

  “You will,” I said. “Your daughter and you are both important.”

  “Don’t hate her for what she does.”

  “What do you mean? She’s a writer, a journalist.”

  “Talk to her,” he said. “I need to go lay down.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He struggled to his feet.

  “I’m just tired. I need to smoke one and sleep.”

  “That weed you gave me…”

  “What about it?” he asked, moving toward his front door.