by Liz Crowe
The bouncer coughed loudly and I strode forward, pushing inside. Thumping dance music blared through the entire place, already rubbing me the wrong way. A woman in nothing but a pair of black shiny high heels danced around a pole, flashing her bits to the group of men seated around the stage.
The thought of indulging made my cock shrivel up. Cheap. Nasty. The whole place stunk of stale liquor and something a little more disgusting. Male ejaculation.
Leaning over the bar, I gestured to the woman serving. She was this big breasted, bleached blonde, Barbie doll. Fit right in.
“What can I get you?” she yelled over the music.
“I need to speak with your boss,” I replied.
“That’d be Sammy,” she said, raking her gaze up and down my body. Obviously liking what she saw, she leaned forward, squeezing her tits together with her arms.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” I said blandly.
She huffed, pissed that I’d disregarded her so bluntly, and disappeared out back. Surveying the club, I spotted several CCTV cameras across the roof. One over the bar where I waited, two angled at the area in front of the stage, another over the exit and one over the bathrooms. They looked cheap, the vision, if they caught any, would be grainy at best in this darkness.
I straightened as I caught sight of a man walking towards me, the blonde bitch from behind the bar following in his wake. His hair was slicked back, his shirt was some offensive kind of red silk and his suit jacket was ill fitting. He looked the fucking part all right. He must be this Sammy fucker. I now understood with perfect clarity why people called the guy Fancy Freddy behind his back.
“You looking for the boss?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the music.
“You’re him?” I replied, looking the guy up and down again.
“Yeah, that’s me. You’re that Royal Blood guy,” he said, waving a hand at me. When I raised my eyebrow at him, he said, “Yeah, we’ve heard about you.”
“I’m sure you have,” I drawled, not paying any attention to the mostly naked women hovering around the edges of my vision. Sex was one thing I never had to pay for and I didn’t intend on starting any time soon.
“You know, some of you bikers are our best customers,” Sammy went on. “I’d be glad to give you a freebie.” He clicked his fingers and the closest woman slinked to his side, eyeing me with delight.
I eyed her with distaste. I didn’t share and I especially didn’t share bodily fluids with a hundred other men that had been through her in the last week.
“Not. Interested,” I said.
The woman pouted, sticking her tits out even further. She obviously liked being treated as an object, the stupid little girl.
“I’m looking for someone,” I said to the sleazebag, getting to the point. Holding out the photograph to him, I raised an eyebrow.
Sammy plucked it from my fingers and peered at the altered photograph of Alison Crawford. “She’s a pretty one.”
“Have you seen her before?”
“Not sure. There was a woman here a few weeks ago looking for a job. Similar hair, same eyes. Could be her. She was a lot thinner, though. Bitch wasted my time.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Wasted your time? How?”
“Went through the interview, served a couple of drinks, then just walked out. Never did come back.” He handed the picture back to me and wrapped an arm around the woman, who was pouting at me with come fuck me eyes. “She would’ve been a good money maker. Her tits were amazing. And her ass. Fuck me.”
I raised an eyebrow. Could be Alison, or it could just be some woman with a similar look about her. Either way, it was the only lead I had since flashing her picture in all the dives on both sides of the river. Any lead was a good lead when I had a Necromancer scythe hanging over my head.
“She did leave her application here,” Sammy said, knowing who paid to keep his club running and trouble free. That was a greedy son of a bitch right there.
“Do you still have it?”
He nodded back over his shoulder. “In the office.” Pushing the woman away, he led me across the club and into a hallway. Storerooms and offices. He opened a door at the far end and I followed, leaving it ajar behind me. A row of windows overlooked the street outside, a cream venetian blind that hadn’t been cleaned in years, covering the glass.
Sammy cracked open the filing cabinet and slipped out a piece of paper. “Here you go,” he said. “She didn’t fill it out properly, the stupid bitch, but that’s all I’ve got.”
“What’d she do?” he asked as I took the form from him.
Scanning the application, I snorted. She hadn’t even filled it out correctly, there was information missing all over the place, but there was a partial address and that’s all I needed.
“None of your business,” I snapped, shoving the paper into my pocket.
Sammy held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, just helping out.”
“I’ll be sure to mention it to the men who matter,” I said, holding back the urge to roll my eyes. Men like this, they did themselves no favors exploiting women, laundering cash, dealing drugs. It was petty, but it was those kinds of seedy businesses that kept Royal Blood flush with cash. That and the contracts I carried out for them.
“CCTV?” I asked, glancing at the computer on the desk.
“Can’t remember the day she came in.” He sat at the desk, clicking the mouse and bringing the computer to life. “I can-”
I held up a hand. “Don’t bother.”
“You sure? I can get a message to you.”
“The form is enough.”
I didn’t have time for that shit. It had already been six months since the attempted hit on Sykes, and time was slipping away. Alison could be living in the city under all our noses, or she could be long gone. My money was on her being in the city, close to her target. Her entire family had been brutally murdered and that had to cut deep. If I were her, I’d regroup and plan a second attempt in greater detail. A foolproof plan to get what I wanted.
Without another word, I spun on my heel and left the office, weaving through the dark club, avoiding the stripper from before. There was something I needed to sate and it wasn’t my cock. If anyone was going near it, it would be Mercy.
Shoving out into the night, I pulled up the address from the job application on my phone and made a note of the surrounding streets and buildings.
It was time to go hunting.
Chapter Fourteen
Mercy
X had disappeared again.
Like it was my business to know his comings and goings. I was acting like a needy girlfriend, but there was a problem with that. X wasn’t mine, even if I had silently pledged myself to him. He didn’t want me like that. If he did, he’d just take me. He’d taken nothing but my body.
Still, I was desperate to know what his business with the Necromancers was. Weiss knew, but he wasn’t telling, which meant I had to take matters into my own hands. If I started asking more questions than I already had, then he’d become suspicious. He trusted me, which in turn meant that the whole of Royal Blood did too.
Weiss thought I was obsessing over X and it had to stay that way. It wasn’t exactly a lie, it was just holding out on the entire truth. He knew I wanted to get lost, he just didn’t know why. They’d just assumed I was running from an abusive husband and I never made any move to correct them.
I worked the bar at The Gambler’s Inn all afternoon and night, waiting for my chance. On Wednesdays Weiss left early and left me on my own to lock up, which meant it had been a week since I’d seen X.
The thought of him sent shivers down my spine. The cold and calculating biker who fell asleep in my bed. The man who was the ultimate puzzle. Scarred inside and out.
“I’m out, Mercy,” Weiss said, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Right,” I replied, picking up a cloth to start wiping down the bar.
“You can close early if you want to.” He nodded
at the empty pub. “No fuckers are here, so you may as well.”
“You’re giving me an hour off?” I cocked my head to the side.
He laughed at my reaction. “I’ll still pay you for it.”
“Fucking good.”
Waving, he strode across the pub and shoved out the door. A moment later, I was on my own. Rounding the bar, I double checked the toilets and locked the outside door.
I busied myself with clean up, just to make sure Weiss wasn’t coming back. Forty minutes later, I was finished, ready to leave and still alone, so I made my move. It was now or never. I had a bad feeling and it was here to stay until I put my fears to rest.
Slipping into Weiss’ office, I glanced at the desk with a hollow stare, my ass smarting from the memory of X slapping me. My pussy was ruling my brain and I was getting sloppy.
Opening the desk drawers, I found nothing but cigarettes, old lighters, old papers and pens. Weiss was a fucking slob. He reeked like an ashtray and from the state of his desk, I didn’t want to know what his house looked like. I didn’t even want to think about it.
Instead of wasting time searching through the mess, I crossed over to the filing cabinet. I didn’t know if I’d find anything incriminating in there, not unless he’d forgotten to remove something, but it was worth a shot. Weiss could be a lazy asshole but there was nothing about the place that had warranted a police raid lately, so I might just get lucky.
I flipped through the first drawer, but it was all paperwork for the pub. Invoices, licenses and inbox outbox kind of stuff. Cracking open the second drawer, I laid my hands on a large, thick, orange envelope. Slipping it half out of the filing cabinet drawer, I checked for any clue as to what was inside. Along the top was written the word ‘copy’ in black marker, but it was the name that caught my attention.
Xavier Blood. His name was Xavier Blood. Had to be.
Peering inside the envelope, I saw that there were three files crammed full of papers. Was this the job he was working on for the Necromancers? The super secret job that Weiss kept warning me away from and the job that had brought those five bikers into the pub looking to get back at X? The one that had five dead bodies staining the carpet red out front?
I pulled out the files from the envelope, my hands shaking. I wondered what answers I’d find or if there’d be any at all. I was a smart woman, a few clues and I could piece the rest together from what I already knew. I was like a fucked up Nancy Drew, solving mysteries I had no place knowing the mechanics of.
I was looking to get lost and this was not getting lost. Not if I got caught.
A photograph fluttered to the floor, slipping from the first file and landing face down on the carpet. Picking it up, I flipped it over.
My blood ran cold.
I dropped the photograph, my fingers going numb. It was me. It was a photograph of me. Blonde hair, full cheeks, a healthier version of the woman I used to be. With trembling hands, I flipped open the file and almost vomited. A brutal crime scene photograph stared up at me, my father’s lifeless gaze captured on film. Blood. Thick, sticky, congealed…splattered on the walls, pooled on the floor. Staining the plush carpet with death.
Bam. Right between the eyes.
The sheet of paper stapled on the cover of the folder had the words, ‘Suspected Target’ printed at the top. Below was a profile, a very detailed profile of Alison Crawford. Of me.
I doubled over, hugging the folder to my stomach, trying to keep the bile that had risen in the back of my throat from erupting over Weiss’ coffee table. There was only one explanation for this. One and one only.
X was a hitman.
X was looking for me.
X was going to kill me.
No, this couldn't be right. The first time I let myself feel any connection since that night and I chose X. I chose him for a reason. His darkness was mine. I was his. I didn’t understand any of it.
He couldn't find out.
What was I meant to do? How could I play the master at his own game and win? I had already been living it without knowing, I just had to take the final step.
Alison Crawford was dead. I had to become Mercy Reid. Totally, irrevocably, completely.
My chance for revenge would come. It would just be played out in a different way. To get the thing I wanted most, I had to give up my soul.
If X could do it, so could I.
Keep the master close and beat him at his own game.
This time I wouldn't choke. If I did, the man who I was falling for would put a bullet in my head and not even feel remorseful.
Holy fucked up romance.
Chapter Fifteen
X
The air was heavy with fog as I lurked in the darkness, watching…waiting.
It was quiet, the sounds of far off traffic muffled in the thick night air. It was close to being over. Everything hummed with the promise of freedom.
I traced the butt of my gun with the pad of my thumb, loosening it from where I’d shoved it down the back of my jeans. I knew this building. I’d been here twice before, so I knew the route already.
It was Mercy’s apartment building.
I recognized it from my hasty entrances and exits, but I never saw the number on her door. Mercy wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t fucking stupid.
I’d let her get to me, worm her way into my heart and make it start fucking beating again and this is what I got in return. I was slipping. I should know what number her apartment was, where it was located in the building, the color of the fucking carpet and if her kitchen had tiled or linoleum floors. I should know every single detail of her apartment, but I didn’t. I didn’t know shit.
Mercy Reid had ruined me and she didn’t even know it.
I shoved my hand into my coat pocket and held onto the photograph of Alison Crawford. I had to get her confession and cross her face off. She was the only one who could’ve attempted that hit.
She was the only one who fit the profile.
I’d get her to confess. Women were the easiest to draw information from, despite being able to withstand pain the longest. This wouldn’t take long, then I was out. I’d deliver the goods and then I would disappear.
Xavier Blood would become a ghost.
If Mercy was looking to get lost, could I take her with me? If she knew the kind of man I was, how dark I was inside, she’d want nothing to do with me. I was good for one thing and one thing only. Killing. A monster couldn’t love. I couldn’t feel anything, so why even try.
Moving through the shadows, I crossed the street, keeping my head low. Pushing into the foyer and climbing the stairs, I kept my hands free, dangling at my sides, ready to draw if there was trouble. Ready to strike if the target tried to run.
I had two options. Kill her in her home or, if she put up a fight, tranquilize her and do the deed elsewhere. It didn’t matter which, I’d still have my fun.
Striding down the empty hall, past other doors and other homes, I stopped outside number thirty four. This would be over very soon and my blood ran thicker with the knowledge that the monster within would soon be sated.
Twisting the knob, I found the door was unlocked. Stupid woman.
Stepping into the dark apartment, I smelt vanilla and spice. Images of Mercy slammed into my brain and I shook my head, cramming all memories of her away into the dark place inside my mind. I’d see her soon.
Sounds of rushed movement came from the other room as I closed the door softly behind me. Drawers were opening and closing, clothes rustling. The sound of a zipper. She was going to run, but it was too late.
Moving silently through the lounge and into the bedroom, a woman was shoving clothes haphazardly into a duffle bag. Her long, lean body was hunched over the bed, her long black hair falling in soft waves down her back.
I wouldn’t need the tranquilizer. I could just shoot the bitch and be done with it.
Pressing the barrel into the back of her head, the woman tensed.
“Turn around,” I snarled
. “Do it fucking slowly. I'm going to look into your eyes as the bullet passes through your head. That's the best bit, don't you know?”
The woman began to pivot on her heel slowly, her hands rising. As the barrel of the gun tracked its way across her skull, a feeling of dread began to settle in my gut. When her blue eyes met mine, my arm went slack and the gun fell away.
I'd been played. The master had been played.
“Mercy?”
Chapter Sixteen
(Part Two)
X
I grabbed Mercy around the neck and slammed her into the wall, her pretty head cracking against the plaster.
“Start talking,” I spat, trailing the barrel of my gun along her cheek.
“X,” she managed to choke out around my fingers.
Mercy was my target. Mercy was the one who’d attempted to kill Sykes. Mercy had to die. I had to take her photo, scratch her out and deliver it to...
“Please,” she whispered. “Let me explain.”
“I know everything about you Alison Crawford. There's no explaining anything.” She played you, X. She played the master. She made a fool out of you.
Mercy squirmed in my grasp, tears welling in her eyes. She had no stomach for violence. Not the dark kind - the kind that took you to the edge and pushed you into the abyss. The kind of violence that turned a human being into a killer. That was why she couldn’t pull the trigger on Sykes. She wasn’t a murderer. That was my job.
I pressed the barrel of the gun underneath her chin, pushing it into the soft spot just above her throat. Tears streamed down her face, dripping onto her chest. Crying. The women always cried. Her lips quivered as her eyes silently pleaded with me.
I could just pull the trigger and bam. Her face would be gone.
Sick son of a bitch.
“X,” she choked out. “Help me.”
I cocked my head to the side.
