Act of Mercy (PSI-Ops / Immortal Ops)

by Roth, Mandy M.

  Striker hopped down and stood next to Duke. “Killjoy.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mercy exited the small café, her to-go cup of coffee in hand as well as a small bag with a pastry in it. She was exhausted because, as predicted, she’d not slept worth a darn. She had managed to masturbate—more than once—to an imagined version of a man she’d never meet. She knew how pathetic that was. How pathetic she was.

  It was still too early to head back into work. It was her day off and she needed to wait for an invite or risk raising suspicions even more. She’d accessed one of her backdoor remote location entry points into the Corporation and had disabled two vital scanners.

  They’d call soon, wanting her in to fix them. That would be her in. She’d have to be quick and have to hope Bertrand wasn’t in. She shuddered just thinking about him and strange way he watched her. He screamed sleazebag without having to say a word. She could only hope she wouldn’t have another run-in with him.

  In the meantime, coffee was required. As she neared a small side street, she paused, the compulsion to look down it great. Several large men were there, talking near a van. Blinking, she watched in stunned surprise as two of the men each took an end of a small red car and lifted the thing all the way off the ground.

  She was too far away to make out their faces in detail but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the one with the shoulder-length dark hair. His back was to her. And, oh, what a backside he had. Her mouth nearly watered at the sight of the form-fitting jeans cupping his ass.

  Wow. Men simply didn’t come made that way in her everyday life. As she found herself practically drooling over the hot guy, she realized what he was doing—lifting the car as if it were a feather. She swayed, watching the scene unfold, unable to believe what she was seeing.

  They’re supernatural. Only men who aren’t human can lift something that heavy without effort.

  Her breath caught and she hurried along her way, fearful they might work for the Corporation. She made it to her building and put her hand on the front door.

  It opened, startling her.

  Mrs. Faure was there, smiling widely. The elderly woman was something of a superintendent of the place, even though she outsourced all the maintenance and did very little outside of gossip. She knew everything about everyone, and Mercy long suspected the woman was paid by the Corporation to tell of her comings and goings. That being said, Mercy had no friends in France. She had none in the States either, and Mrs. Faure was good to chase away feelings of loneliness.

  She and Mrs. Faure often met for tea and light conversation. Mrs. Faure enjoyed using her English and tried very hard to teach Mercy French. The woman also tried very hard to teach Mercy to cook.

  That never went well.

  Mercy’s brain didn’t work that way. She could create complex formulas and solve equations with ease. Ask her to make soup and there was a better than average chance food poisoning would occur.

  “You are home this morning?” Mrs. Faure asked. “You work nearly every day.”

  That used to be true. Whatever the Corporation was up to had left her getting more and more days off as of late. She had to wonder if they were rendering her redundant or simply prepping to kill her.

  Either was a possibility.

  “I’m headed in shortly. I have a ton of work to catch up on,” Mercy said, wanting to get up to her apartment to pack and ready herself for whatever might come.

  “You are always working,” said Mrs. Faure. “A girl your age should be out, having fun, loving life, being romanced by men.”

  Romance wasn’t even in Mercy’s realm of existence. She’d never had a romantic moment in her nearly thirty years. She’d always been too focused on her education and her career to be bothered or sidetracked by something as frivolous as romance. She’d only had sex with herself and she wasn’t even sure that counted.

  Pressing a smile to her face, she nodded. “I know.”

  “Someone will be up to take a look at your sink. You are still having problems, yes?”

  She was but she didn’t care if it was fixed or not. It seemed very trivial after her day. She smiled. “Yes, but I’m…”

  “Good. Someone will be up soon.”

  Surrendering, Mercy started for the stairs, her hand making contact with the old, worn banister. Part of the charm of the building was its age and the attention to detail that had once been paid to it. While it had long since lost its luster, it still made her smile, thinking of the days when it was in its glory. She’d have liked to have seen it back then.

  “Oh,” called Mrs. Faure as Mercy made it to the halfway point of the first flight of steps. “You have new neighbors. They moved in early this morning. A group of men. Nice. Attractive. You could maybe find romance with one or more than one.”

  Mercy paused. The only other apartment close to hers was occupied by a man who was pushing ninety if he was a day. “What happened to Mr. Herbert?”

  Mrs. Faure gave her a look that said it all. “He died yesterday morning while you were at work. I was able to lease his place same day he passed. Imagine my surprise.”

  Mercy refrained from commenting.

  “You will look into the new men, yes?” asked Mrs. Faure. The woman would continue to press the subject if Mercy didn’t simply give in and make her feel as though she’d be on the prowl for handsome hunks.

  “Okay, I’ll think about it,” added Mercy as she continued up the stairs. She had way more pressing things to worry about than finding a man. Five flights later she was on her floor. She was nearly to her door when she spotted two rather large men enter the hallway from the other staircase. One had deep red hair, close to the color of her own. His hands full of large black bags. The man with him had his hands full as well.

  He looked surprised to see her. “Hello, lass, why are you nae at work?”

  Alarm bells went off. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

  He cleared his throat. “I spoke to the landlady. She told me our new neighbor was at work. Yer our new neighbor, are you nae?”

  A grin touched her lips. “I am. She just told me about you as well.”

  And she wants me to jump all your bones.

  The redhead seemed unsure what to say next. “Good weather, we’re havin’, huh?”

  “I guess.” He kept staring at her in an off-putting manner.

  “Right. Well, uh, enjoy yer day then.”

  The man with him elbowed him and leaned in close, whispering something to the clearly Scottish guy. The Scottish guy smiled wide, his gaze on her the entire time he and the other man went into the apartment across from hers.

  Strange.

  She shook her head and entered her place. She had a long day ahead of her and couldn’t be bothered by her new, odd neighbors. She had to get packed, get to work and get Jimmy the hell out of there.

  More than likely die trying.

  Don’t think on that.

  She shut the door to her apartment and locked each of the locks. They wouldn’t stop the Corporation, but they made her feel better. Placing her forehead to the door, she exhaled, noticing the shake in her hands for the first time. It was her body telling her that her stress levels were too high. Not that she needed a flare sent up or anything.

  She needed to concentrate and do what had to be done. Going to the side table in her dining area, she opened the cabinet door and pulled out a set of modified noise-reducing headsets. She plugged them into her cell phone and selected music to play. It was upbeat classical music that she often made up silly scientific-sounding lyrics to accompany.

  Perfect.

  She sang softly about the string theory of physics and her mind began to instantly calm, helping her to find her center and to start doing what needed to be done. She went to her bedroom and pulled out a small bag. It would work to pack lightly. She didn’t require much in the way of clothing. The most important things would be a few vital pieces of technology and the cash she’d been setting aside for this mome
nt.

  Chapter Eight

  Duke turned as Boomer and Striker entered what they’d use as base of operations while in Paris. The building was the same one their target lived in. When they’d shown late last night, hoping to find a decent location and vantage point to observe her, a plump, elderly woman had seemed to pop out of thin air, asking if they’d come to lease the apartment from the man who had died that morning.

  The men had shared a look and it had been Duke who blurted out yes. Turns out, it was the apartment across from their target.

  Even better.

  Boomer and Striker stood just inside the door, looking guilty.

  “What did you do?” he demanded.

  Corbin stepped out from the bathroom, his hair wet from his shower. “Do I want to know?”

  Boomer thumbed at Striker. “He just made contact with the target.”

  “You what?” Corbin asked. “She’s not due in for hours. The woman who runs the building told us our neighbor girl works long hours and would be gone until late tonight.”

  “Well, she’s here,” Boomer countered. “And I’m pretty sure Striker managed to blow any chance of him or I tailing her. She not only talked with him, she got a nice long look at us.”

  “Nice,” Duke muttered. “Morons.”

  “Do nae look at me that way,” Striker said. “Neither of you notified us she was in the building. How were we to know we’d happen upon her?”

  “We didn’t know she was here,” Corbin said.

  “Fine special operatives you are,” Striker mumbled as he went to the kitchen area. “And, by the way, she’s even better lookin’ in person. Wee slip of a thing though. Odd dresser. She’s wearin’ a superhero t-shirt with fuck-me boots. I like her.”

  Duke desperately wanted to see her, to speak with her, to make any sort of contact with her. He edged towards the door. Corbin stepped into his path. “You’ll have to wait to install the surveillance cameras.”

  “Yeah, figured as much,” he said, unable to find any additional words. Duke wasn’t sure he could wait. He made himself busy, unpacking their gear, all the while stealing glances at the door. He had to see her in person. There was no other way around it. Corbin would be pissed but Duke would deal with that later.

  For now, he needed to be closer to her. He went to the door. “I left something in the van.”

  Before anyone could comment, he left, shutting the door behind him. He stared at her door, knowing she was in there.

  So close.

  He was about to stupidly go up to her door, knock, demand she tell him everything, when the door he’d just come through opened. Corbin was there, looking wild-eyed.

  “Boomer took over watch,” he said. “We’ve got company. Armed and headed into the building.”

  “For us?” Duke asked as a sinking started in the pit of his stomach. His gaze went to Mercy’s door. “They’re here for her, Captain. I know it in my bones.”

  Corbin tossed him a sidearm. “I’d tell you to get your ass in here and suit up, but I know you’ll just ignore me. Protect her.”

  Duke eyed him. “Thought she was the target.”

  “I think we might be wrong about her,” he confessed. “My gut says something is off too.”

  Duke didn’t need telling again. He stormed over to Mercy’s door and knocked with far more force than he’d intended, surprising even himself as the door flew inwards, crashing loudly. His adrenaline was on overdrive. He rushed in, expecting a screaming and frantic woman. He found none. The main living area was empty.

  Shit.

  “Dr. Deluca!” he shouted.

  No response. He sniffed the air, catching a familiar scent instantly. It was the same one he’d smelled at the café. The scent that left him in a claiming mindset. The wolf in him woke, clawing to surface. It wanted out. It wanted to do something drastic.

  Claim its mate.

  Mine.

  Duke had to stop to steady himself, the thought of potentially having a mate nearly taking him to his knees.

  Get your shit together. Bad guys are coming and you’re thinking about marriage.

  His body ignored his command. It knew that scent. The wolf confirmed what he suspected. She’d been in the café.

  She’s yours.

  It felt as if he were climbing through a haze of emotions. His cock picked then to act a fool, hardening, wanting what he smelled. He wanted to find her and fuck her senseless.

  Down boy. We need to get her to safety.

  His cock ignored him.

  Figured.

  Duke followed the scent and tapped much, much lighter this time on the bedroom door. Again, no response. He knew she was in there. He could smell her. Maybe she was afraid. After all, he did just throw her front door into her kitchen area.

  He turned the handle and opened the door slightly. “Dr. Deluca?”

  Duke couldn’t move. His entire body acted as if he’d been hit by something that froze him in place. There before him was the tiny doctor, dancing, of all things. She was shaking her backside as she packed mismatched clothing into a small bag. She sang a song about a string of some sort. He’d never heard it before but damn if it wasn’t adorable coming out of her.

  Adorable?

  What the fuck?

  She didn’t seem to notice him there at all and she’d clearly not heard him break her door down.

  How the hell could she miss that?

  “Doctor!” he shouted, still stuck in place by the sight of her. Part of him feared if he got any closer to her that he might actually act on the impulse to fuck her. Didn’t help matters that she was still shaking her sexy little ass. It was altogether too easy to picture her bent before him, his hands on her hips, holding her in place as he lined up with her wet core. His cock was painfully thick and hard, agreeing with how perfect the thought of being in her would be.

  He couldn’t recall a time in his long life when he’d reacted so fiercely to the sight and smell of a female. Yet, this one before him had his mind a puddle of sex-ridden mush and she’d not even spoken a word to him.

  Fuck. If he she talks to me, I’ll come.

  Fuck. France did break me!

  I hate France.

  His cock pushed against his jeans, wanting to join in the dancing fun with her. The more she shook her perfect ass, the more turned on he became. She danced in a circle and stopped, her eyes widening when she spotted him.

  “Are you here to fix the sink?” she asked in the loudest shout possible for someone her size. Her voice slid over him, caressing his eager cock, nearly making him lose control. He had to bite his inner cheek to help before he did something extra embarrassing. That or just grabbed her and kissed her until she melted against him.

  Do it.

  He wanted to punch his wolf in the face.

  “Are. You. Here. To. Fix. The. Sink,” she repeated, still yelling, but this time punctuating each word as if he were the simple one. He’d have noticed someone holding a gun.

  “What?” Was she for real? He was holding a firearm and she wanted to know if he was there to fix her sink. He was totally and completely obsessed with a crazy woman. There were no two ways about it. She had to be nuts.

  Fucking sexy as could be, but nuts.

  He knew her specs. He’d read them, yet seeing her in person made him very aware of just how small she was in comparison to him. The alpha in him wanted to sweep her up and protect her from all the wrong in the world. Right now, he had to convince her that a big guy with a handgun in her living room was something worthy of panic, or at the very least, notice.

  She seemed oblivious.

  Striker’s tales of redheads came flooding back.

  Duke had a feeling Mercy would be totally worth any headache or insanity she brought to the table.

  “I can’t hear you,” she said before smiling wide—gifting him the same quirky smile she’d had in her photos.

  It rocked him to his very core. He wanted to kiss her. Didn’t matter that men
were coming to try to kill them all. He wanted his lips on hers.

  Snap out of it.

  She removed her headphones. “Sorry. They’re noise cancelling. I actually tweaked them to drown out everything, not just a certain percentage. They work great.”

  He’d say so.

  “Are you here to fix the sink?” she asked, eyeing him carefully. “You’re not the normal fix-it guy.”

  He waited for her to freak out about a gunman in her bedroom. Granted, he was the gunman, but still he wanted to know she had at least minimal basic survival instincts. Apparently, the woman had none to speak of whatsoever. “What?”

  “The sink. It’s been acting up. You’re here to fix it, right?”

  “No,” he said, doing his best not to shout at her for being so clueless. “I’m not.”

  She wrinkled her nose, glancing over him slowly. “You’re incredibly fit. Has anyone ever told you that before? You have great bone structure.” Her gaze slid to a framed picture on her wall. “Have we met before?”

  Duke couldn’t make heads or tails of the picture on the wall. The thing looked like badly done modern art. She seemed pretty focused on it, before looking at him again.

  She sucked in a large breath. “Oh, you have a gun.”

  Finally.

  “Listen, Doc, we need to get you to safety.”

  Something in her expression changed. “You’re not with the Corporation, are you?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t know who the hell the Corporation was.

  She took a tiny step back. “You’re Jimmy’s friends and you want to kill me, right?”

  He lifted his arms to signal he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t sure it actually worked. She seemed very engrossed by his sidearm. He offered as soft a look as he could muster. “Here. All gone, okay?” He slipped the handgun into his waistband. “My name is Duke and I come in peace. Listen, a group of men are gunning for you. I need to get you to safety. Are you okay with that?”

  Chapter Nine

  Mercy thought about Jimmy’s warning and glanced around the room, trying to figure out the best escape plan. One minute she’d been packing a bag to be able to run once she freed Jimmy, and the next, she had a hunky guy standing in her bedroom, holding a gun.