by Vance Huxley
What Harold didn’t realise was how much time and trouble Caddi had gone to, setting this up. The gang boss had known for months, trapping Pete and then Tessa just so he could get to Soldier Boy. Just for a moment it had worked even better than expected.He’d felt his grip tighten on the slippery shit, and now he’d wriggled free! For long moments, the gang boss hovered on the edge of breaking a deal, but word would get out.
Caddi finally bottled his anger, stood, and managed a real smile. “I suppose you want her stuff moved into your room tonight, or, well, she’s only got a single bed but you could squeeze in there instead?”
Harold would rather leave, sharpish, but after thishe daren’t drive home in the dark. Caddi would arrange an ambush,because at night he could blame some roaming gang of scroats. “I would appreciate it if you would let her stay there tonight, but I’ll sleep elsewhere. I’ll take her home tomorrow.” Harold glanced at Tessa but her eyes were down. The young woman had a faint blush on her cheeks.
She walked past with a quiet “Thank you Harold,” following Bug out of the room.
Caddi bent over a safe in the corner, hiding the dials as he retrieved the loan agreements. It only took a few moments to transfer Tessa’s remaining debt to Pete’s, and burn Tessa’s records. While Caddi stowed Pete’s agreement, the youth raised his haunted gaze to Harold. “You just sold me.”
“No. You sold your sister and then we bought her back. If you work very hard for Mr. Cadillac, you can pay your half and keep your body free and undamaged. It will be shitty work, but I’m sure you will try very hard to save your own ass. Much harder than you did to save your sister’s.” Pete dropped his eyes, because he had no real answer to that.
As Caddi straightened, Harold saw a sudden smile of anticipation. That had to mean payback started now. “Mack, find Pete something disgusting and low paid to start on will you?” Caddi smirked, which worried Harold more than a scowl would. “Send in Mercedes to keep Harry company. Ask herself to dress for a special guest who is stopping overnight. Let her know who, so she makes an effort. Oh, and tellchef that Harry and Mercedes will be joining us for dinner.” Harold had been told that Mercedes killed people for Caddi, so this might be payback time.
“Sure thing, boss.” Mack left with a subdued Pete.
Caddi patted his hands gently together. “Well played, Harry. I never saw it coming.”
Harold sat back in his chair, feigning relaxation. “I didn’t see this coming either. I just took the chance to grab a few games even if we don’t play them. We could have traded them one at a time, for things we need in Orchard Close. I didn’t know what they were worth, so I brought them to find out and maybe sell one. Still, you’ll make a profit so it worked out well enough for you.”
“Will your bird be pissed off that you gave them away for a woman? Bet there’s one or two would have volunteered without you paying.” Caddi might be having a dig or actually trying to find out who Harold’s woman was. Harold disliked visiting for business, let alone socially, because of this sort of prying and tweaking.
“I bought them with my own coupons because I’d saved a few. Nobody knew.” Harold coloured slightly. “That’s not why I paid the debt.” None of them would believe him. In the Hot Rods’ world, Soldier Boy, as the gang boss, took any coupons he wanted from Orchard Close and would only buya woman for sex.
Maybe Caddi realised the truth.”I know, Harry. You, my boy, are a dying breed, which might be best for the likes of me. If things get tight, I can find a couple of one-off jobs for a man with your training?” Harold didn’t reply, but Caddi had cast out the bait again. The Hot Rods boss still hoped he’d get some use out of Soldier Boy, as a sniper.All the local gangsthought he could shoot the nuts off a gnat, while it was still flying.
E-Type, another Hot Rods lieutenant with a car name, arrived with a report about some damaged machetes and the conversation shifted to more general matters. Harold’s coffee had a drop of brandy in it, and the rest were hitting the beer, when Mack stuck his head round the door. “Mercedes is here, boss.”
Caddi waved ‘come in’ at Mack but he grinned at Harold. Harold got an itch that he couldn’t quite locate. He turned to the door and forgot the itch, or maybe found her. Hellfire, but the girl scrubbed up well. Mercedes smiled at him. “Well hello there, Harry.” Her voice gently stroked Harold’s hindbrain, low enough to be sexy, high enough to be definitely female.
Cadillac’s New Mercedes
Looking at her now, Harold could see how Mercedes got close to her victims. Mercedes dressed to kill, a thought best kept firmly in mind. No sign remained of the gaunt young woman Harold had seen last year, with her cuts and bruising still healing and her hair hacked short.She’d only just joined the Hot Rods, a young woman still bearing the marks of surviving out there with the animals for gods knew how long.Mercedes had already earned a reputation as the only Hot Rods woman who carried weapons, but nobody had realised how dangerous she could really be.
Slim but not scrawny, more pop pin-up than catwalk, Mercedes stood about five inches below Harold’s six-foot. The heels on her boots brought them almost eye-to-eye, boots that caught his eyes when Harold stood up to say hello. No woman wore long, impractically high-heeled boots these days. Once caught, Harold’s eyes stayed. The young woman’s legs were probably only the standard length for her height, but her short black dress had a slit just far enough up her thigh to tease.
The combination meant her legs appeared to go on forever. Harold didn’t usually check out women these days, especially at the Mansion. Now his eyes followed the boots upward, then the stockings and that hint of stocking top, without any conscious thought. His eyes kept going because the rest of the new Mercedes didn’t disappoint. Unlike many gang women Mercedes wasn’t busty,but she had enough of a figure to fill out her little black dress in all the right places.
Once Harold’s eyes finally reached her face, the rest became almost irrelevant. Caddi treated Mercedes much better thanwherever she’d been before. There were no bruises or dark rings of fatigue around her eyes; her cheeks were smooth and her skin clear. Mercedes hadn’t used much makeup, just a bit of lippy to set off her wide, full lips. Looking at her face she could be anywhere from thirteen to thirty, although her body said more like sixteen to early twenties. Her mouth smiled, and said whatever age you fancy right now. Short, straight, jet-black hair, now stylishly cut and shining with health, framed her face and finished the picture. Almost.
All in all,Mercedes made a very appealing package, but the sort of men she met these days didn’t look at a girl’s eyes. That could be a fatal mistake with this girl. Her eyes were a deep brown and should have finished the picture, but they were dead. Harold could see no animation behind them, giving the lie to her smile, her voice, and the gentle sway of her hips as Mercedes walked over and tapped Harold on the chest.
She tipped her head the fraction necessary to look at his eyes. “Someone told me you were sleeping alone tonight, Harry.” Mercedes smiled wider. “Big stud like yourself, that’s just not right. Lucky you, I’m here now.” She glanced across at the rest, all grinning at Harold. “Sorry boys.”
Harold would have refused if offered an unwilling girl, one of the usual games Caddi played, but the warlord had flipped the usual setup. Mercedes periodically offered a visiting gang boss or lieutenant the chance to sleep in her bed. If they accepted, she had oneproviso, any attempt to touch her in the night meant the man losing pieces of his anatomy. So far she had killed at least four men in the bed, while others had accepted the loss of status and refused. But some had accepted, stayed awake and very still, and survived.
Harold had his reputation as a fearless SAS bastard to keep up, so he couldn’t back down. Sometimes only that reputation stopped the nutters from washing over Orchard Close and picking it clean. Smiling and acceptingturned out to be easy,because Mercedes had developed into one hell of a package up close like this. “Cripes, Mercedes. If I’d known you were waiting, I’d have been here we
eks ago. You only had to send word.”
Mercedes almost purred. “I heard you didn’t want me to visit. Now you say such nice things, Harry. Do you do nice things?”
Harold had once sent a message, after a couple of Hot Rods mentioned Mercedes collecting ears from rival gangs. If Caddi’s assassin came within half a mile, he’d promised to shoot her. Looking like this he might not have recognised Mercedes, and anyway, this wasn’t within half a mile of Orchard Close. “You only have to ask. You might be surprised.” Too true, she had to ask. Harold didn’t touch women without permission anyway, but Mercedes’ eyes worried him. He’d seen eyes like that on squaddies who had survived something truly bloody nasty, by doing something truly bloody nasty to the other bloke or blokes. People with eyes like that were never quite right afterwards.Those who didn’t break often had sudden attacks of rage, or nightmares, or both.
“Smooth talker, but not much of a welcome to go with it. You could at least put your hands on my waist, for starters. Don’t you like me Harry?” Mercedes slid her hands up both sides of Harold’s neck, clasping them behind his head and pulling her elbows in a little. The movement opened the scooped top of her dress, but Harold manfully resisted looking down. He wondered if he could have decided the daily betting on whether Mercedes had put on a bra or not. Mercedes noted his restraint and rewarded Harold with a small smile, one that still didn’t reach her eyes.
Harold carefully slid his hands round her waist, resting them where it began to flare out towards her hips. “I don’t know you well enough to decide, Mercedes.” That won him another small smile.
“Tonight might help.” Mercedes moved a little closer,but Harold carefully kept his hands from slipping down onto her ass. With a shock Harold realised he’d actually considered letting them,but not enough to bleed for.He didn’t know the exact rules yet. Mercedes had a list of penalties for invading her personal space without permission; all included blood. Caddi, watching closely, looked like a cat regarding a particularly plump canary.
Harold had to get his head back into the game.”Since we are getting to know each other, why are you called Mercedes?” When Harold had asked Mack, the big bodyguard wouldn’t or couldn’t say.He’d told Harold to ask if he wanted to know. From the chuckles, this lot knew already.
“We are all in the Hot Rods so it had to be a car name. A Mercedes is the sweetest, smoothest, most sinfully luxurious ride you will ever have, and the wildest, if you really turn her loose.” She paused, “Providing you are willing topay the price.” The whole room burst into laughter, and Harold joined in. The delivery had been perfect. Mercedes licked her lips as the hilarity died away. “Well Harry, are you willing to pay the priceto ride a Mercedes?”
“I wish.” Harold grinned, then softly sang the classic Janis Joplin line, “Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz.” This time Harold got the laugh, and he thought possibly the first genuine smile from the young woman.
Caddi chipped in, stirring the pot a little. “He might have made a bid, but Harry’s just bought a woman. A very expensive one.”
Mercedes wasn’t smiling now when she looked at Harold. “Really?” Not so much purr as snarl in her voice now.
“Paid off her debt, not bought her. There’s a difference.” For a moment Harold thought he saw a flicker in those dead eyes. He wondered if something human still hung on in there.
“Yeah, right,” a voice muttered, but neither of them were paying attention.
“Such a generous act deserves a little reward, I think.” Mercedes had her purr back. “Ask me to ask you to grab my ass, Harry.”
“Harold.”
Her eyebrows rose a little. “It matters? Hmm. Harry, or Harold? No.” That little smile reappeared. “I think I know what would sound better. How about ‘Arold?” Mercedes said the last word with a pseudo-French/Swiss accent.
“If it’s you saying it.” Harold realised he’d started flirting with her, which, with Mercedes, could be lethal.
“Well, ‘Arold, are you going to ask me to ask you?”
Harold looked right into those dead brown eyes and smiled. “Mercedes, would you please ask me to grab your ass?” He paused briefly. “Or at least stroke it gently.”
“No.” The room erupted in laughter, while Harold relaxed because he’d passed the first test. Mercedes didn’t laugh, she leant a little closer. “But you can put your hand on my dress, ‘Arold. Right on top of where my ass is.” The general hilarity stopped dead.
“Bloody hell, first base,” someone exclaimed.
“Might be second, depends what’s under the dress.” The laughter started again but neither Harold nor Mercedes joined in. Harold glanced at Caddi, who had a decidedly speculative look and wasn’t laughing either. Moments later Harold thought his hand, sliding gently down, could settle today’s betting on whether Mercedes was commando.
Mercedes sniggered and wriggled her hips, just a tiny bit. “A little bit firmer, ‘Arold, make me feel as if you’re enjoying it.” Harold decided that he’d already forfeited his hand if he’d been set up. He took a firm hold of the smooth curve, pullingher slightly towards him.After all, he enjoyed it.
“Mmm, better.” Mercedes moved a little closer, gently pecking Harold on the cheek. “Now that feels as if you mean it.”
Mean it? Harold needed a cold shower.That bit of movement left him stone cold certain there was nothing but girl under that dress. Now that dress had moved so close to him that a fag paper would have to wriggle through. Caddi saved Harold from finding a reply, slapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, Harry, sit down and let us all get an eyeful.” As Harold started turning, Mercedes moved forward to slip a hand behind him, round his waist. She put her other hand behind herself, to slide Harold’s hand across to the other cheek as they ended up side by side.
As she did, Mercedes murmured, “You don’t want to lose that, do you?” Harold hoped she meant the grip on her ass, not his hand, which had just had avery interesting trip. So far,Mercedes seemed to be having fun so hopefully Harold wouldn’t be donating body parts. Mercedes kept Harold’s hand firmly in place as she perched on the arm of his chair, turning a little. She lifted her near leg far enough for the strip at the top of her stocking to show through the slit, stretching it over his legs. “I would sit on your lap, ‘Arold, but you might lose control. You wouldn’t want to eat dinner with stained jeans.”
Harold had recovered a bit from those first fewmoments, and the effect on him. Now he went into the expected gang boss mode, his own less crude version. He smiled up at Mercedes. “Ah, but when you sit on my lap I’ll take my jeans off first.” Mercedes rewarded him with a slight raise of her eyebrows and a twitch of her lips, ignoring the exclamations from the spectators.
A couple of low whistles and “brave bastard” sounded from someone.
“When, ‘Arold, not if?”
“I can hope. We’re all entitled to hope a little.” The flicker in her dead eyes definitely showed this time. Harold wondered what Mercedes hoped for.
“Maybe I should have gone to your place first. What would you have done if I’d turned up on your doorstep, ‘Arold?” Mercedes licked her lips, slowly. The rest were waiting to see how Harold dodged this bullet. There wasn’t much light entertainment these days.
“Run like hell.” Everyone laughed, including Mercedes, easing Harold’s mind a little. Harold hoped that dinner came soon because he would get this wrong sooner or later, and tonight would be bad enough without pissing her off first.
Bugatti managed a “too bloody true” through his laughter.
“Like a rabbit” came through the hilarity clearly enough to keep it going a bit.
When the laughter died down, Mercedes leaned forward, opening her neckline invitingly. Bug nearly put his neck out trying to get an eyeful. “That would have been a mistake. Never run ‘Arold. I’ll just hunt you down, and when I’ve done, you know I’ll have to kill you.” Harold kept his eyes on hers. They’d started a private competition now, aft
er he hadn’t looked the first time, even if that gape beckoned temptingly. If Mercedes had gone commando, Harold would bet on braless as well.
“Is that to encourage me or put me off?” Harold grinned, a bit more on balance now.Unfortunately, the muscles in her ass kept flexing under his hand, just enough to continually threaten his concentration. That had to be deliberate.
“Why ‘Arold, do you think I might be worth dying for? How sweet.” Harold detected a bit of a challenge there.
“I must admit, just for a moment back there I seriously considered it.” Harold paused a beat. “But then I realised I would want the memory. To keep me warm in the long cold days when I was too old to get it up any more.” Harold won another genuine laugh from Mercedes as the others erupted.
Mercedes sat back up slowly, the muscles under Harold’s hand sliding about pleasantly in his palm. She carefully smoothed non-existent wrinkles from the skirt where it stretched over her thigh. “Oh, it would keep you warm, ‘Arold.” She smiled, obviously pleased with the result of her teasing. Harold seemed to have passed her test because Mercedes started to gently tweak the others, though her muscles kept massaging Harold’s hand now and then. Multi-tasking, Harold thought.
Another twenty minutes of gentle flirting and piss-taking all round followed, before a young woman in a white blouse and short, rather than micro, black skirt came into the room. She announced that dinner would be served in the dining room, asking them to take their seats. The smooth twist and turn that Mercedes executed to keep Harold’s hand in place on her ass felt delightful, messing up Harold’s concentration—again. She slid her own hand into the back pocket of Harold’s jeans before giving his ass a squeeze. Harold looked at her but didn’t need to ask. “I’m fed up of waiting for you to ask me to ask you.” Harold began to wonder when Mercedes would lose interest in this part of the game. Presumably when she went to bed.
Harold nearly missed astep thinking about how easily Mercedes could get out of her clothes with his hand still there. He dragged his mind back out of her pants, if she was wearing any. Bloody hell, Harold wasn’t playing cards or negotiating anything important with Mercedes in the room. Maybe Mercedes was the reason Caddi had a reputation as a dealer?
