Beg For Mercy (Fate's Vultures, #2)

by Jami Gray

  Proving his assessment solid and that she was following the same lines of logic, Mercy stepped away, danced a few steps in front of him and without letting go of his hand, spun around. The smile on her face was all kinds of fake, but her flirtatious laugh sounded all too real as her fingers tightened on his. Catching on to her intent, he tugged on their clasped hands and managed to catch her as she threw herself into his arms in a mimicry of a woman caught up with her man. He rocked to a stop as he caught her. When she buried her face in his neck, his scruff snared the flyaway strands of her hair. Her breath was warm against his skin. ‘One at three, other at eleven.’

  His arms tightened on her waist as he dropped his head over hers, effectively blocking their exchange. ‘Got your blade?’ He barely felt her slight nod. ‘Let’s lead them into the stalls.’ The last thing he wanted was to cause an obvious mess in Istaqa’s front yard.

  She unwound her arms and turned back to resume her previous position, using his body to shield her movements as she freed her blade while they continued forward. They reached the end of the street and Mercy, in her role of a woman intent on taking advantage of the man at her side, pulled him into the deeper shadows. Once hidden, they didn’t waste time, slipping further into the maze of stalls, winding their way through to find a solid spot to make their stand. Havoc found it in an open patch of grass sitting between two stalls that backed up to the canyon’s wall, limiting access points.

  He tugged Mercy close and put his lips near her ear. ‘We need to draw them in.’

  Scanning the spot, she nodded, then drew back. He pulled his blade free, and noted she now had one in each hand. He met her gaze, unsurprised to find hers filled with undaunted anticipation. He gave her a fierce grin and mouthed, ‘Now!’

  Her husky laughter filled the night air. Even though he was looking right at her and knew it was bait, his dick didn’t give a damn, going hard at the feminine lure in the sound. Ignoring his reaction, he focused on the sounds of the approaching figures. Their pursuers weren’t amateurs. If he hadn’t been aware of them, he wouldn’t have caught the slight sounds giving them away—the shift of dirt under foot, the brush of cloth against corrugated metal, a heavy breath merging with a soft breeze.

  He and Mercy exchanged a look, then slipped into the pooling shadows near the stalls, him on one side, her on the other. Using silent hand signals, he indicated he would circle around. She dipped her chin in acknowledgement. Then they waited. It didn’t take long. The three figures inched into sight, staying close to the structures and taking the time to ensure their approach. When they realised the clearing was empty, they stilled.

  Dammit, they could be here all night. Mercy obviously had the same thought, because a soft, needy moan filled the quiet. His hand tightened on his knife, as the sound brought to mind all kinds of erotic images. Images, that when he finally got her alone, he’d turn into reality. The shadows inched closer, confident their targets were otherwise occupied. Not wanting any of them to escape, Havoc silently crept through the nearest stall, using the low counter to conceal his movements as he worked his way around. He needed to come in from behind, cutting off their escape. And he had to do it before they got to Mercy. With a set plan, his mind settled into a cold calm.

  He got into position and straightened. Unfortunately, his shoulder brushed against the nearest tent, rippling the canvas and alerting the figure bringing up the rear. He spun around and came face to face with Havoc. His vicious curse ripped through the night, alerting the other two.

  The element of surprise gone, Havoc braced and barely managed to dodge the first lethal swipe. Tall with a longer reach, the attacker’s leaner build gave him a speed advantage. Not a stranger to knife fights, Havoc kept his guard up, but couldn’t avoid the sting, there and gone across his forearm, as he closed in, giving his opponent no time to retreat.

  Havoc managed to get inside the other man’s guard and deflect the next strike, but lost his chance to gain control of the incoming knife. Using his block to cover his movement, he swiped out, his blade making contact, but not causing much damage. The other man danced back, unwilling to chance a deeper connection. They circled each other, steadily moving away from the stalls and further into the open area.

  There was a soft grunt behind them, but neither looked away. But the noise spurred his opponent to react. He went in low, slashing at Havoc’s stomach. Sucking in his abs, Havoc danced back, giving up inches to avoid being gutted. His retreat brought an evil ass grin to the fighter’s face. It didn’t last long. Between one breath and the next, Havoc captured his wrist and twisted with merciless strength. His opponent hissed in pain and twisted his body, trying to escape the wrist lock. Havoc moved in tandem, taking a big step back and to the side, drawing the fighter’s arm back at a relentless angle even as he continued to wrench his wrist.

  The fighter wasn’t one to give up. A solid blow landed on Havoc’s thigh, momentarily throwing him off balance as numbness sliced down his leg. Shifting his weight was all it took for his opponent to jerk free of Havoc’s grip. The attacker stumbled to his feet and came back in, head down as he charged Havoc with an enraged bellow.

  Despite his unsteady stance, Havoc barely spun out of the way. A line of fire erupted along his back, a reminder to get the hell out of the blade’s range. Balling up his fist, he used his momentum to complete his spin and nailed the bastard with a left hook. The hit took the man to his knees, his knife tumbling from his grasp.

  Havoc grinned and began to draw his foot back for a kick, when a heavy weight hit his back, sending him stumbling forward. Fuck! Busy with the first asswipe, he totally forgot about the others. Dropping his knife, so both hands were free, Havoc managed to stop the incoming blade from sinking into his side. A brutal squeeze and twist broke the second idiot’s wrist, sending his weapon tumbling to the ground. Ignoring his pain-filled yelp, Havoc dragged him around and used him as a shield just as the first attacker, who managed to find his knife, charged in and sank his blade deep into his compatriot’s gut.

  Havoc shoved the gutted man into his partner, who pushed him aside just as Havoc closed in. Things got nasty as a flurry of fists and hits ensued. Blood filled Havoc’s mouth after a fist found his jaw and his knuckles split on the other man’s teeth. Pushing out the bruising hits, Havoc’s world narrowed down to specific targets—head, neck, gut, knees. Eventually, a well-placed fist to the gut doubled his attacker over which gave Havoc the perfect opening to land an elbow to the base of his skull. His attacker dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap.

  Wiping away the blood dripping into his eye, Havoc sucked in air, feeling the protest of aching ribs and various other spots. Thankfully nothing was broken, just bruised. That he could work with. He toed the man crumpled at his feet and got nothing—no groan, no muscle twitch, not a damn thing. Good. He shifted his attention to the man lying in a spreading pool of blood. Glassy eyes stared unseeingly into the darkness.

  Satisfied neither one would be back for more, Havoc shifted his attention to Mercy and realised she had things well under control. In fact, if he wasn’t wrong, the last attacker was about to get up close and personal with death. Since they needed one of the three breathing, he called out, ‘Babe, need him alive.’

  Mercy lifted her head, but didn’t release her grip on the hank of hair she was using to arch the man’s spine. He was on his knees in front of her, hiding her body, but there was no missing the glint of her blade resting against his exposed neck. One arm hung useless at his side, blood seeping around the knife stuck in it. The other arm flopped around like a fish out of water.

  As Havoc got closer he realised it was because it had been broken at the elbow. Vicious little vixen. She had the idiot well and truly caught. Ignoring the man’s wild-eyed gaze, Havoc stopped inches away and slowly dropped into a crouch, keeping his face blank despite his body’s protest of the position. He rested his arms on his thighs as he studied the man. Guess Felix wasn’t the only Cartel roach crawling out of the cracks
.

  Horror widened the dark eyes and the swarthy skin went from pale to nearly translucent, making the distinctive ink crawling up his neck even more visible, as recognition sparked. ‘Madre de dios, el Verdugo.’

  Havoc didn’t acknowledge the name. It belonged to a man long gone, but obviously not forgotten.

  Mercy peeked around the man’s head, her eyes narrowing. Her mouth opened, but whatever she was going to say was cut short when she caught sight of his battered state. Temper darkened her eyes and iced her voice. ‘Might want to get to it, my hand is getting twitchy.’ As if to reinforce her words, the blade pressed in, breaking a thin line of skin, blood beading along her blade.

  The man whimpered. Havoc’s lips curled in distaste. This shouldn’t take long. ‘Start talking, amigo.’

  ‘Bounty, we were collecting the bounty for the bitch.’ It came out in short gasps as Mercy’s hold made swallowing difficult, much less talking.

  Flicking his gaze to her, he murmured, ‘Ease a bit, yeah?’ She shifted her hold, allowing the man to talk but her blade didn’t budge. Knowing that was all she would give him, Havoc sighed and went back to his questions. ‘Who’s paying?’

  When the man didn’t immediately answer, Mercy’s blade offered some encouragement. ‘Suárez.’ The name escaped in a high pitched squeal. The blade and Havoc’s reputation overriding the Cartel-inspired fear.

  Of fucking course. He shared a look with Mercy. Grim acceptance filled her gaze, but she leaned in, menace turning her silky question into a ball shrivelling demand. ‘How many others?’

  ‘No sé.’ The knife bit deeper at his claim of ignorance and he began babbling. ‘We paid a couple kids to keep an eye out and tell when they saw you. Don’t know about any others. We just wanted the bounty.’

  Neither he nor Mercy could miss the ring of desperate truth in his shaky voice. Havoc met the question in her gaze with a grim nod and pushed to his feet. Proving he wasn’t a complete idiot the man at her feet began begging. His pleas abruptly stopped as Mercy’s blade sliced his throat, dropping the current number of bounty hunters on her tail by one. She shoved his body aside, wiped her blade clean, and straightened. ‘El Verdugo?’

  Not the best time to rehash history. ‘A long story for another time.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ With that noncommittal noise, she dropped it.

  Havoc didn’t think her patience would last long though. He caught her wince as she stepped over the body. ‘How bad?’

  ‘Got me good in the ribs, but nothing’s broken.’ The blade disappeared and she ran a critical eye over him. ‘You?’

  ‘I’ll live.’ He motioned to the two heaps before them. ‘Let’s stash these out of sight. Istaqa can send someone to clean up.’ They worked together and piled all three bodies behind the last stall. They topped the pile off with a tarp Mercy liberated from another stall. Good enough. ‘You know, even if you strike a deal with Suárez, this shit won’t stop.’ Because it still took time to spread the word that the bounty was pulled, and time was one thing she didn’t have.

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ She walked around the pile and fell into step next to him as they headed out of the market place. She waited until they were on the path to Istaqa’s before speaking again. ‘But I’d rather look over my shoulder for a few weeks than whatever’s left of my life.’

  There was an edge of realistic fatality to her answer. Why it rubbed him the wrong way, he didn’t have a clue, but it left his voice sharper than he intended. ‘Making a deal with Suárez could cost you more than a few weeks.’ He took a few more steps up the path’s steady incline before he realised she’d stopped. He turned to her, not missing the flash of impatience that swept over her face.

  Her hand was braced against her side, her lips thin with either pain or annoyance, or maybe both. ‘Not telling me anything I don’t already know, Havoc.’ She sucked in a couple of shallow breaths before moving forward again. ‘Why the concern?’

  Since he couldn’t figure that out either, he dodged her question as he kept pace with her. ‘Just want to be sure you know what kind of snake pit you’re stepping into.’

  There was no amusement in her soft chuckle. ‘Don’t worry, I’m highly aware no matter how I move, I’m going to get bit.’

  Yeah, that was what he was afraid of.

  Chapter 10

  ‘We leave you two alone for a few hours and you still manage to find trouble.’

  Not that she was keeping track, but still … ‘More like trouble found us.’ Mercy pulled the bag of frozen corn from Istaqa’s freezer and held it against her jaw, before turning to Vex.

  Vex ambled over and hooked a finger under Mercy’s chin, nudging her head back. ‘Forget to duck?’

  At the invasion of her personal space, Mercy jerked her head away, then instantly regretted it as the drums in her skull woke with a vengeance. ‘Ow, dammit.’

  Vex’s lips twitched but she turned from Mercy and focused on Havoc, who stood by the sink using a hand towel to blot at the seeping cuts along his forearms. ‘Please tell me you left them bleeding out.’

  ‘Drained and gutted,’ grunted Havoc, running the stained cloth under the faucet as Vex crossed behind him and snatched up a half-filled cup from the counter. ‘And all wrapped up for disposal.’

  ‘Daniel’s on it.’ Istaqa sat on the far side of the island, watching the cleanup. Vex rounded the island’s end and settled on the stool next to him. Due to the kitchen’s layout, they had a straight line of sight to Mercy and Havoc over the island’s wide top.

  Mercy leaned against the far counter’s edge, her gaze sliding beyond the watching duo to the night-darkened glass behind them. The thick solar glass made for a great mirror. She watched Havoc as he continued to clean up, unaware of her ogling. Even in this casual setting there was something compelling about him. An intensity she wanted to play with, regardless of the havoc it would create. She couldn’t stop her small goofy smile at her unintentional pun as her attention slipped into a numb haze thanks to her adrenaline drop. The cool touch of her impromptu ice pack sank into the bruising heat of what, experience taught her, would become a spectacular bruise.

  Havoc’s soft curse cut through her blissful haze, snapping her attention back to the flesh and blood man standing next to her and the tensions swirling through the room. He was trying to wring out the cloth one-handed. She blew out an aggrieved sigh, set her ice pack aside, and took the towel from him with a muttered, ‘Give me that.’ She wrung it out, ignoring the twinge in her ribs at the movement and took over, cleaning his various cuts, pointedly ignoring Vex’s snicker behind her.

  ‘You get anything useful?’ Havoc’s question was directed to Istaqa but his voice rumbled over her, like the tantalising brush of fur. The unexpected sensation tripped over her nerve endings and trapped the air in her chest. Momentarily distracted, she snuck a glance under her lashes only to get caught peeking. An utterly male spark of hunger lit the deep chocolate depths of his eyes. Heat ran under her skin as she dropped her gaze, grateful her back was to Istaqa and Vex. Made it easier to hide her reaction. Hell, she wouldn’t mind if she could hide her reaction from the man himself. Standing as close as they were, she was shit out of luck on that. In fact, after its initial tremble she forced her hand to steady as it wrapped around Havoc’s thick wrist.

  ‘He believes he’s working for Suárez.’ Frustration was rife in Istaqa’s voice.

  Returning to her lame first-aid attempts, she didn’t miss Havoc’s frown. ‘You don’t sound like you feel the same.’

  ‘I don’t.’ There was no mistaking the banked fury icing Istaqa’s reply. ‘But he sure as hell believes he was following Suárez’s orders.’

  ‘I’m betting they were Felix’s orders.’ The muttered observation slipped free without Mercy’s permission and fell into the charged silence that followed.

  ‘Yeah, me too.’ Despite the heavy reluctance weighing Istaqa’s admission, some of Mercy’s constant tension eased.

  Determination slunk
in to replace it, stiffening her resolve. ‘Going to let me call Suárez then?’ She dismissed the grin Vex hid behind her cup, even as her skin prickled under the combined weight of both Havoc and Istaqa’s attention. She turned to rinse out the cloth again, trying to give the appearance of nonchalance as she waited for Istaqa’s answer.

  ‘After I discuss a few things with Suárez, yes.’

  His stiff agreement set off a burst of relief. Not only would she get a chance to turn the tables on Felix, her only option of getting out of this mess, but depending on where the phone was located, she might be able to sneak back in and get word to her boss. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to stifle her triumphant grin, she wrung out the cloth. ‘Good.’ It was all she dared to say. Instead, she faced Havoc, wet cloth in hand and changed directions. ‘Where else?’

  When he didn’t respond, she met his singular study with an impatient frown, trying to play off her antsy anticipation. It didn’t work. Speculation slipped into his gaze, sharpening it. Well, dammit, that wasn’t good. If he had any inkling of what she planned, he’d stop her in a heartbeat. Determined to keep him ignorant, she played up the impatience factor with a cocked hip and tapping foot.

  Instead of answering her question out loud, he whipped off his t-shirt. The air in her chest stalled as a wall of bronzed flesh took over her field of vision. Faced with the naked expanse of his chest, her thoughts scattered like a flock of startled birds in a myriad of directions. It took a moment to recapture the flighty things. Recognising the edge of arrogance and male dare in his smile, which proved he hadn’t missed a thing, she silently cursed. He took his sweet time giving her his back. A wicked line, still seeping blood, ran just above the edge of his jeans and refocused her attention faster than anything else. She went to work.