by D. M. Davis
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
About the Book
Playlist
Dedication
Mercy is Granted
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
KB Worlds
Did You Enjoy This Book?
Additional Novels by D.M. DAVIS
Author's Note
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Reader Group
Stalk Me!
Books by K. Bromberg
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.
© 2020 KB WORLDS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
Published by KB Worlds LLC.
Cover Design by: D.M. Davis
Cover Photo by: DepositPhotos
Editing by: Tamara Mataya
Proofreading by: Mountains Wanted Publishing & Indie Author Services
Formatting by: D.M. Davis
Published in the United States of America
The octagonal competition mat and fenced-in design are registered trademarks and/or trade dress of Zuffa, LLC.
This story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the Everyday Heroes World!
I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! NO MERCY is a book based on the world I created in my USA Today bestselling Everyday Heroes Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to revisit the characters you love.
This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the story. All praise can be directed their way.
I truly hope you enjoy NO MERCY. If you’re interested in finding more authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit www.kbworlds.com.
Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.
Happy Reading,
K. Bromberg
When it comes to protecting his angel,
he has no mercy.
Ga b r i e l:
The first time I saw her, she made my pulse dance to a rhythm that matched the sway of her hips.
The second time I saw her, she was in the arms of my best friend.
That broken, rusty organ in my chest hasn’t beaten since.
Blood doesn’t run through these veins. It’s pure, unleaded determination.
I’ve fought my whole life. For safety. For food. For my family.
Five years later, I'm fighting for my position in the MMA world.
No distractions.
Only, my Angel needs me, and that tin can behind my ribs found its beat again.
F r a n c e s c a:
Gabriel “No Mercy” Stone earned his fight name long before he entered the octagon.
He’s been a thorn in my side for years.
He takes pleasure in proving his nickname to me at every turn.
He’s relentless. He’s heartless.
Until one day he’s not.
It took the worst day of my life for Gabriel to show me mercy.
Broken and afraid, I let him piece me back together.
He offers me everything yet promises nothing.
When a man shows he has no mercy,
you should believe him.
So Hott by Kid Rock
Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton
Bad Guy by Billie Eilish
Way Down We Go by Kaleo
Lovely by Billie Eilish
The Chain by The Highway Women
Ain't No Rest for the Wicked by Cage The Elephant
Falling Like The Stars by James Arthur
My Heart Is Open by Maroon 5 Featuring Gwen Stefani
Mercy by Brett Young
When The Party's Over by Billie Eilish
Find My Way Back by Cody Fry
Can’t Go On Without You by Kaleo
Mercy by Dave Mathews Band
Don’t Give Up On Me by Andy Grammer
One by Ed Sheeran
Gabriel “No Mercy” Stone’s fight entrance songs:
Bawitdaba by Kid Rock
Cowboy by Kid Rock
May you find someone who shows you no mercy when it comes to loving you.
The world shifts when she’s near. I can’t see her. I can’t hear her, but I sure as fuck feel her. And I don’t mean the blonde pushing her tits into my side, hoping for a ride on my cock.
We’ve been in Sunnyville for months. I’ve had my taste of the local pussy. It’s good; it’s clean and about ten shades of slut lighter than Vegas. But this chick grinding on my thigh has me feeling like I need a sanitizing shower. I’ve done nothing to encourage her, except maybe breathe and ignore the fact she exists. She’s made her rounds with the guys. I’m guessing they’ve had their fill, and she’s set her tits on me. She’s feeling brave. My I’ve-got-no-fucks-to-give stare hasn’t scared her off. Yet. But she’s shit out of luck.
The jukebox in the corner that’s been blaring since the band went on break switches tunes. I know without even looking who selected that song. Who’s dancing in front of that damn box like it can make her deepest desires come true. I swivel in my chair, my dead eyes landing on her like the sway of her hips, the tilt of her chin, and the curve of her ass isn’t a siren song to my cock and creates an ache I’ll never understand in the middle of my chest.
She’s picked that fucking song, but all I hear when I look at her is “So Hott” by Kid Rock, pounding out a rhythm, making me want to fuck her like I’ll never see her again.
Francesca fucking Angelique—Frankie to her friends—the bane of my existe
nce and my best friend’s woman. My best. Fucking. Friend. Yeah, you get the idea. I’m royally screwed and not in the pleasurable getting-my-rocks-off kinda way.
Her raven black hair cascades down her back, sweeping across her ass as she sways back and forth, lost in the words of “Tennessee Whiskey.” I feel every syllable she whispers to the heavens like a prayer that seems to fall on deaf ears and stream down her hotter-than-hell body to puddle at her feet like used dreams that have been reheated to death. For a woman who’s supposed to be in love with my best bud, Austin, she sure as shit looks like heartache and broken promises.
And to stoke the flames of my own personal hell, the words are mine. The words I would say to her every fucking day if she were my woman. I would never let her dance alone looking lost and vulnerable in such a public display of despair. If she were mine, I’d grab her ass, pull her close, and tell her with my body and my mouth how adored she is—how perfect she is.
She’s my hell on Earth. My temptress. My Angel. It’s even in her fucking name Angel-ique.
Does she know what she means to me? No. Fuck, no.
She thinks I’m an ass, and I work every day to prove her right.
“How ‘bout you and I get out of here, Gabe?” Tits to my left has the nerve to butcher my name while stroking my cock through my jeans. She thinks my hard on is for her. I wish it were.
“It’s Gabriel.” My eyes dart from Frankie to the guy approaching her. She’s oblivious, still dancing to her damn song, and he’s ready to pounce. “Austin.”
Like the command it is, his head snaps up. His eyes on me, I tersely nod toward the jukebox.
Austin lazily scans the situation and shrugs. “She’s fine.” He downs his beer.
The fuck? “Man up. Your woman needs you.” I stand as the asshat, looking to lose a limb, closes in on Frankie.
Austin rises to his feet slower than molasses, his jaw taut, his teeth clenched. “I said she’s fucking fine.” He shoulders past me. “Mind your own damn business, Stone.”
I don’t even bother to see where he’s going. All I know is he’s not heading toward Frankie. Slipping out of Blonde Tit’s hold, my six-and-a-half-foot frame covers the distance from the bar to the jukebox in mere steps.
“Beat it,” I growl at the predator seeking a Frankie-meal. I slip my hand around her waist. “She’s taken.” Just not by me.
I wish death upon his dick, and I swear I can hear it shrivel as he squeaks some excuse and toddles off.
“Gabriel?” My Angel with the wolf-gray eyes frowns up at me.
The pang in my chest deepens. I take a second to revel in the feel of her in my arms against my chest. A moment is all I get, all I deserve, before my asshole ways make a stand. “You can’t dance like slut meat and expect not to attract flies, Francesca.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes before she covers it with a scowl. “What does that make you?” She pushes me away like she could if I didn’t let her. I tower over her by a foot or more, but her backbone makes her deceptively taller. “And don’t call me that.” Her anger slips. She hates that I don’t call her Frankie—at least to her face. It’s another wall I’ve erected to keep her safe from the likes of me.
I ignore the latter. “An asshole.”
She laughs. The sound has my cock twitching. I sneer my regret, holding the wall.
“That’s for damn sure.” She lifts to her tiptoes, leaning in, giving my chest a push. “I can take care of myself.”
Her scent fills my nostrils, and I can’t help the deep breath I suck in to selfishly capture it all as I step back. “Clearly.”
With a brow raise and a quick study of my face, she looks for proof that I’m not the asshole I appear to be.
Keep looking, Angel. You may find it. My heart pounds as I hold my breath, waiting for her to see past my walls to my true feelings. I want her to know as much as I don’t.
Thankfully she doesn’t. She elbows past me with a brisk, “Goodnight.”
I let out the breath—the scent of her—I was holding.
Asshole in full force. Check.
I find the blonde occupying my chair at the bar. I give her a once-over, noting my cock is still hard. I might as well use it. “You coming?” I don’t even give her a second glance before heading for the door.
“God, I hope so,” she pipes up, following me.
“God’s got nothing to do with it.” I slam through the door and welcome the clean air as it washes Frankie from me.
Now, if I could only fuck Blondie hard enough to knock my Angel from my thoughts…
I play my song, praying it’ll entice Austin to come to me. To dance with me like he used to. I can nearly feel his touch. How he used to hold me. How he used to love me.
“It’ll be different. Better.” Austin’s soon-to-be broken promise plays in my head with the vision of him begging me with his brown eyes to believe him. To trust him.
That was two months ago.
I sway a little harder, tip my head back a little farther, and sing the words I wish were his—hot and heavy in my ear—telling me how warm, smooth, and sweet I am compared to the liquors in my song.
My peripherals catch him at the bar, laughing like I haven’t heard in a long time with his asshole of a best friend, Gabriel.
The sound rings in my bones, knocking hope free.
We moved to Sunnyville two months ago. It’s been two months of long days and lonely nights. Two months of lies, absence, running around smelling of booze and women who aren’t me. I squeeze my eyes tighter to stop the traitorous tears burning the back of my them.
I will not cry! I. Don’t. Cry.
It wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t always like this. I’ve been in love with Austin since we were fourteen. He said he fell hard and fast for me, but he couldn’t have fallen faster than I did. It only took one heated glance, one mischievous smile, one rough hey for me to know my world was about to change. I didn’t know if the change would be good or bad, but I knew it would be irreparably life-altering.
I wasn’t wrong.
Austin was my first boyfriend, my first love, my first everything. I was his first everything too. He promised me the world, and he delivered. It was a fairytale love story for eight years. We were high school sweethearts. Voted most likely to marry and live happily ever after.
I wanted that.
I needed that. Austin promised he’d deliver my HEA. We were on track, heading for marriage, a family, our forever after. Until we weren’t.
The blonde nearly sitting on Gabriel’s lap brings my doubts to the surface. She rubs against him like a cat in heat. I’ve seen her before but never with him. She’s a ring-chaser. I can spot ’em a mile away. His frigid demeanor doesn’t seem to cool her down in the least. If he rejects her, I know it’s only a matter of time before she moves on to Austin.
He wouldn’t, would he? Has he?
My dance falls on Austin’s deaf ears and blind eyes. The only heat I feel is from the stone-cold stare of Gabriel. I prayed my boyfriend would be the one to notice me, not the resident asshole in my life. Though, I would have to say Austin is nearing the lead in that fateful race.
It all changed a year ago. He injured his back in a car accident, one that sidetracked his training and jeopardized his MMA standing. Luckily, he was in fantastic shape—thanks to said training. He’s made a full recovery with the help of his team and physical therapy. All should be good. But it’s not.
He’s still angry, distant, and absentminded. I can’t seem to do anything right. The harder I try, the angrier he becomes. It’s like my effort pisses him off, like he wants me to give up, give in, and walk away.
I did. Once.
He came after me. Begged me to come back. The Black Ops MMA team was moving their training to a small town out of the spotlight and the ring-chasers to focus on their goal of taking the championship in every weight class. Austin promised things would be different. Better. If I’d just come with him.
I believed him,
for in those pleading brown eyes I spotted the man-boy I fell in love with. The man who knows me like no one else has ever cared to. He’s my family. My only family.
Blocking them out, turning back to the jukebox, my hands splay across its cool glass, dancing like it’s an attentive dance partner. Its words meant only for me. Its attention focused solely on me.
I flip my hair and bite my lip. This is my song. My dance.
Lost in the words, the fantasy in my head, I barely startle when a warm hand snakes around my waist seconds before I’m pulled into the heat of a hard body. My man came for me. But something’s off.
All hope of Austin joining me on the dance floor is ripped away by Gabriel’s evil, sexy voice. “She’s taken,” he growls over my shoulder at some stranger who looks ready to pee his Wranglers.
It’s all downhill from there. A toboggan ride to hell, delivered by the devil himself. Terse words from Gabriel “No Mercy” Stone—the king of the mixed martial arts team Austin fights for and I work with as a physical therapist—has me flinching, putting on my big girl panties and buckling up for the rough ride. Mercy is not something I can ever expect from Gabriel. He fights me with words just as fiercely as he fights in the ring with every punch, kick, and chokehold.
He takes me down emotionally in no time flat. It’s no surprise. I hide it well, but I’m no match for a man like Gabriel. I can barely hold my own with Austin, and we’ve had eight glorious years together. I’ve known Gabriel for five of those years. He was all smiles and sexy glances until he found out I was with Austin. Ever since, it’s been a war of words and looks that could kill.
It wouldn’t be so bad, if I wasn’t shamefully attracted to him. Despite how Gabriel treats me, there’s a connection I have a hard time ignoring. And to top it off, Austin has turned into his mini-me, spawn of the devil, in the last year. I can’t escape Gabriel or his influence over my life.
Yeah, I’m an idiot. It’s time to throw in the towel. A girl can only take so much. I’m resilient, but I’m not stupid. So why am I acting like it? I should just leave, and I don’t mean the bar. I mean Sunnyville. I should head home to Vegas, though it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Austin was my home, my sanctuary. Wherever he was, I was home.
