Have Mercy (Merciless Book 1)

by Trista Jaszczak

  “Merc…” He voice trails and I quickly pull back, letting his cock spring free as I’m rewarded with a wad of come on my belly. He lets out a sigh and collapses against the couch. He reaches off to his left and retrieves a small, damp towel that he’s had waiting for me. I wipe my belly down as out breathing begins to regulate.

  “So, Mercy,” he says, looking up at me, “I’ve been doing some thinking. About what you said earlier.”

  I sit back for a moment and lick my lips. “You have?”

  He gives me a nod as his bright blue eyes meet mine. “I’ve been thinking we really need time apart.”

  My mouth drops as I fight to find the right words.

  “We said going into this that there would never be any strings attached,” he says, pushing hair from my eyes, “and this is definitely a huge string.”

  I fight the urge to not punch him in the face but it’s creeping up on me faster with each passing second. I jump away from him, snatching my underwear from the floor as I do. “You had this planned the entire time, didn’t you?” I ask, pulling on my panties and now reaching for my bra. He gives me a blank stare. “You are a fucking asshole.”

  “Mercy, don’t blame me for this,” he tells me, “We came into this and said it was just about fucking, nothing more.”

  I scoff. It is my own damn fault. I can hardly be this pissed at him when I’m the one who let myself feel something for such a complete fucking tool. I quickly throw on the rest of my clothes, grabbing my coat, purse and shoes. I am proud of myself as I slam his door, rather than throwing something at his head.

  It’s been three days since the Trenton fiasco. I’m not hurt, but I am pissed. Not at him either, but at myself. I can hardly be pissed at him when I was the one who went into this saying there would be nothing more than fucking and then allowed myself to develop feelings for him.

  After all these years of watching my mother fall into her manic depressive states. After all these years of listening to her warn me about men just like him. After growing up without a father. Way too many failed relationships to count. I let myself feel something for…a man. No man, no cry. Well, in my case it’s no man, no anger, but you get the point.

  After three days though, I’m feeling a bit better. There will be no more Trenton. No more men. Unless it’s just to get a little satisfaction on my end and leave. Guys do it all the time, why not women? I don’t need a man to take care of me or support me. I don’t need a man to do anything for me. I can do things on my own. I own my own hybrid coffee and book store, I pay all of my own bills, I own my place, and own my Jeep. I did it all, without a man. The only thing that’s nice is the sex. And, even that’s a hit or miss anymore. A man can be drop dead gorgeous and be a complete waste in the sack. Which is obviously why I like to control things. Again, that’s me taking care of myself.

  Tonight, I fully intend on taking care of myself, too. I’m sporting a fresh manicure and pedicure in bright red hues, my favorite color. I also have a brand new hair style from my God of a stylist, Angelo. There’s no sense in getting beautiful and not doing anything so I’m taking myself to the Salted Brim, my favorite place in town. It’s an upscale bar that I was immediately drawn to because of, what else, that name. With a name like that, it has to be damn good. Since it is high end, there is a dress code and tonight I have the most perfect, short, strapless and downright sexy little black dress. It hugs every single beautiful curve and to be completely honest, my ass looks stellar in it, too. I find something fun and relaxing about getting dressed up, going in just to have a few drinks, and to people watch. It clears my head and helps me think. Well, that or the martinis. Right now, I don’t care which it is, all I know is that it’s happening tonight.

  I give myself a once over in the mirror. The dress is killer. Angelo has worked magic with my head full of hair. It falls in perfect waves past my shoulders and the left side is pinned with a sparkling comb. Combined with my matte red lips, winged eye liner that could cut a person, and smoky eyes, I look like a pin-up star. Talk about a boost in the confidence department. I slip into my black heels, wrap my coat around me, and grab my clutch before heading out the door. Great things will happen. No more Trenton, no more men. I have this under control.

  I have the cab drop me off in front of the Salted Brim. I don’t know what it is about this place. It just makes you feel like a movie star. There’s a long black awning that stretches to the curb so the minute you’re dropped off, you step under the covering and onto a beautiful red carpet. It’s lit brightly with white lights and they always have fresh flowers or greenery outside the double door entrance, that is complete with a door man who greets you with a smile and holds the door for you.

  When I walk inside, I see that it’s a very quiet night. There’s no more than four or five customers tonight. I’m greeted with a smile from the host, who is helping me with my coat. I ask to have a seat at the bar. He gives me a nod, passes me a small tag for my coat and I head over to the luxurious stools.

  The bartender, whom I’ve gotten to know from being a regular, smiles, “Hello Mercy, your usual?”

  I give him a nod, “Yes, thank you.” I place my clutch on the bar as he begins prepping my favorite, a martini.

  “How have you been?” He questions as I see him pouring liquid into the silvery shaker.

  “Busy,” I tell him, “and you?”

  He smiles and eventually pours the liquid into a martini glass, adding a few extra olives because he knows that I love them. “You’re looking at it, gorgeous.”

  He places a napkin and the drink in front of me as I happily have a sip. He places his palms on the edge of the bar and I can see his green eyes shine. His dark hair is styled perfectly and his face is clean shaven, just for his job. He grins wide and leans closer to me, “What would it take for me to convince you to go out with me?”

  I let out a soft laugh. “Come on, Denny. We’ve been through this before. I don’t date. It’s nothing personal, I’ve just had really bad luck.”

  “I could be your lucky charm,” he says, tenderly touching my face.

  I lean away from his touch, “And, when it blew up in my face how on Earth could I ever face your handsome face for my martinis.”

  He gives me a sly grin, “One day, Mercy, one day.”

  I let out a light laugh as he saunters to the other end of the bar for a customer’s refill and I have another swig of my martini. That’s when I notice him. Kind of hard not to since he and his beer have taken a seat right next to me. He’s actually a regular here. So regular in fact that I know he either orders a whiskey straight or a bottle of his favorite beer. Though I don’t know his name I can tell you it could be tall, gorgeous, and damn near perfect. His body is lean and defined. His suits are always dark colors, always pressed and his muscles seem to have a way of playing peek-a-book underneath his button down shirts. His hair is dark, usually styled, but sometimes messy. Most of the time, he’s clean shaven, but tonight there’s just enough scruff to call it sexy on him.

  He gives me a smile that I return, licking the gin off my lips. “May I help you?”

  “Mercy, huh.” He says, having a drink of beer.

  “What?” I stare at him unable to believe he was actually listening to mine and Denny’s conversation.

  “Your name,” he looks at me with icy blue eyes that give me a sudden chill, “its Mercy.”

  I find myself nodding. “Mercy Knight.”

  “Interesting,” he says, “You didn’t show him any mercy.”

  I let out a laugh, “I am quite merciless.”

  He looks at me again, this time the frosty blue eyes looking me up and down. “I don’t doubt that.”

  I laugh, “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

  He leans in closer to me as his eyes scan me once more. “Ryder.”

  For some reason I can’t help but laugh. “Ryder.”

  He leans back and shoots me a cocky little grin. He gives his lap a playful little pat. “Want to
go for a ride, sweetheart?”

  I laugh again and give my head a little shake. “Oh, God, are you serious? Is that your best pick up line?”

  He takes a drink of his beer and leans back into the seat. “Who said I was trying to pick you up?”

  I glare at him, unable to speak.

  He smiles again as he turns his body towards me, as he leans in, his hand finding my knee, “Trust me, sweetheart,” he says, his face a few inches from mine, “you would know it.”

  “Ah,” I breathe, “I know your type. Been there, done that. No thanks, Ryder.”

  “Oh, have a little mercy, Mercy,” he says, “a gorgeous woman like yourself, you deserve to have some man rendered completely helpless by your beauty on your arm.”

  I let out another chuckle as I have a sip of my martini. “Do you plan on trying to be that man?”

  “Will you let me?” He asks shooting me a knee weakening smile. Charm and pretty faces don’t mean a damn thing nowadays. I’ll fully admit that Ryder seems to have both. Such a horrible weakness of mine. Especially while drinking a martini.

  “So, Ryder, tell me, what is it that you do?” I ask.

  “I sure wouldn’t mind adding you to the list,” he says, giving me another cocky smile. “I’m a detective.”

  I drop my mouth and let out another laugh, “A cop.”

  “Do cops turn you on?” He asks.

  I tilt my head back with laughter. Gorgeous and cocky. There’s something I see a little too often. I glance over at him. I do admit that he looks fun. But, if I look a little closer, I’m willing to bet that buried underneath the athletic physique, the charm and beautiful smile that I would find a warning label. Somewhere hidden on Detective Ryder I will find the very fine print that says, WARNING: I WILL BREAK YOUR HEART. I take another drink of my martini, this time finishing it. He moves closer, brushing the hair off my shoulder tenderly, exposing it and making my eyes turn to his.

  “Are you married?”

  I laugh and shake my head, setting my empty glass on the napkin.

  “Boyfriend?” He questions, waving to Denny the bartender.

  I shake my head, “Not even one of those.”

  “Then what?” He asks, “Girlfriend?”

  I laugh and shake my head, “No, I like men.”

  Denny interrupts us with a laugh. “You’re wasting your time Ryder.” His eyes fall on me with a soft expression, “Mercy is hard to catch.” He looks back to Ryder for a moment, “What can I get you?”

  “Another dirty martini for the lady. I’ll have another Bud Light.” Denny nods in approval. “I’ll also be taking care of the lady’s tab.”

  Denny smiles and nods as I reach for the plastic skewer with the olives. I pop it in my mouth and slide them from the skewer.

  “You’ve been hurt,” Ryder finally says.

  I quickly turn my eyes on him. “Everyone gets hurt at some point or another.”

  “But, you’ve been hurt recently,” he tells me. “You want me to kick his ass?”

  I can’t help but to laugh. It’s cute that he would offer. Even more adorable that he is trying so hard. I must admit that I would take great pleasure in the thought of anyone kicking Trenton’s ass. But, I can hardly unleash and unsuspecting ass whooping on him, not when all of this is my fault in the first place.

  He pushes the hair from my face as Denny places our fresh drinks in front of us. Ryder thanks him as he has a drink. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry Mercy.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I tell him as I take a drink. “It happens. It makes us stronger, right?”

  He shrugs, “I guess, but that doesn’t make it easier.”

  I nod, “But, it didn’t kill me, I’m still breathing.”

  “When did it happen?” He questions.

  “About three days ago,” I tell him, bringing my martini glass to my lips.

  “Sounds like you’re not stranger to being hurt,” he says, his hand finding my knee again.

  I look up at him and I feel something deep inside of me ignite. It’s taking every ounce of will power in me not to take him in the bathroom and just get it over with. “What about you?”

  He gives me another shrug as he brings the bottle to his lips, “What about me?”

  “Tell me about you, detective,” I smile.

  “Oh, have mercy…is the beautiful Mercy showing an interest?” He teases.

  I laugh, “Maybe…just maybe.”

  “Do you like what you see Mercy?”

  I glance at him for a moment. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But, that’s completely beside the point. Right now, I’m simply trying to hold a conversation. That seems normal and harmless enough. It’s the least I can do for him picking up my tab.

  I lick the taste of gin off my lips, “Well, you definitely have something worth looking at.”

  “Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment.” He smiles at me again and I feel my heart jump. He certainly does not make resisting easy. That smile is enough to make my head fuzzy and my stomach flip. And, it’s not just because of the booze, either.

  I feel his hand on my knee again, this time he’s moving closer to me. I feel myself take a deep breath. He’s one hell of a bold man, but I know exactly what he’s about to do. Ryder’s lips are moving in a little too close for my comfort. I turn my head quickly, letting his lips smash into my cheek as I causally have a sip of my martini.

  He laughs and gives his head a little shake as he reaches for the olives from my martini. He inspects it carefully, twisting the little plastic skewer between his fingers. He finally gives me a cocky smile. “Come and get it, sweetheart,” he tells me, placing the olive between his lips and holding it.

  I laugh, twisting my body in the stool to completely face him and drop my hands on both of his knees. “Ryder, you do not want to cross this line with me.”

  He lets his eyes scan me up and down and finally he gives me a nod.

  “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” I warn.

  He gives me a shrug, the olive still pinned between his lips.

  “I’m not that kind of girl,” I pause. “Not in public anyways.” I say giving him a wink.

  He finally admits defeat and eats the olive as I flash him another smile and turn back to my drink.

  “You are killing me, do you know that?” He laughs, having a drink of beer.

  I laugh, “I never said I was easy, big boy.”

  “But, you are making me pull out all of the stops,” he tells me.

  “If this is all of your stops, honey you have some work to do,” I say.

  “Mmm,” he hums as he places his beer on the bar. “I think I like you.”

  “I can hardly like someone I just met,” I admit. “Besides, I’m all scorned right now, I might be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous can be fun,” he says, giving me a wink.

  I let out another laugh, “You really have no idea what you’re getting yourself into with me.”

  “Oh, I have a feeling that I’ll be getting into something with you,” he winks, taking another swig of his beer.

  I lick my lips and shake my head. “Ridiculously handsome and cocky. That is one deadly combination.”

  “Are you afraid that I’ll hurt you?” He asks, pushing a tuft of hair behind my ear.

  I take a breath and lean into the back rest of the stool. “I don’t fear what I know will happen. I just avoid it.”

  He crosses his arms and looks at me stunned. “And, just how do you know that I will hurt you?”

  I can’t help but to roll my eyes. “Please, you should come with a warning label,” I tell him. “You pretty boys are all the same.”

  “Man, sweetheart,” he corrects me. “I’m a man. I don’t play little boy games.”

  This makes me giggle slightly. “Giving yourself a lot of credit, aren’t you?”

  “I give credit where it’s due.” He tells me, smirking at me.

  “Well, you are just a cocky littl
e thing, aren’t you?” I say, having a drink of martini.

  He turns to me again with his arrogant smile, “I think you will find that I don’t have one little thing on me.”

  I smile, “You have a comeback for everything, don’t you?”

  He finishes his beer, leaving a trail of foam in the brown glass. “That I do.”

  I finish the last of my martini in one gulp and eat the olives behind it. Ryder smiles and motions for Denny to bring us two more.

  “Thank you,” I say, “for the drinks.”

  “Very welcome, it’s the least I can do,” he says, having a drink from the fresh beer Denny has left in front of him. “So, what are your plans after this?”

  “Go home and curl up in my bed,” I admit.

  “You mean at my place and in my bed?” He winks.

  I laugh and have a sip of my drink, “I mean my place, in my bed, alone.”

  “I do not like the word alone,” he tells me, shooting me a pitiful frown and sad puppy dog eyes.

  “And, I am willing bet that you don’t get turned down often, now do you Ryder?” I ask, laughing, giving his cheek a playful pat.

  “You would be surprised,” he says, “I’ll have you know that I’m not exactly how you think I am.”

  “And, just how are you, Ryder?” I ask raising my eye brows.

  “I am actually a nice guy,” he tells me, “it’s not all about sex. And you’d be surprised to know that I am a one woman kind of guy, who is single and obviously failing miserably to impress you.”

  I let out another little giggle as I realize just how fuzzy my head is from the martinis. I stop a moment to think. I’ve had two. No, three. This makes three. I shake the fuzz out of my head and look up at Ryder. He is gorgeous. His smile is knee weakening. But, he’s a heartache waiting to happen. I look into those blue eyes and for a moment I feel as though I don’t want him to be just another heart break waiting to happen. I want him to be a good man and looking to commit. I feel my cheeks become warm, either from blushing or too much gin. I look away and have another drink.

  I hear him laugh as he pushes some stray hairs from my face. “Looks like someone is blushing.”