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

by Jami Gray

  The man currently held the territory that stretched along the west coast, starting up in what had been the Pacific Northwest and down into Tahoe Forest situated just north of the Sacramento remains. It not only covered a shit ton of land, but he managed to lay claim to numerous abandoned military installations, and a couple of the remaining big cities—New Seattle, Portland, and Redding. No telling what kind of weapons and other nasty shit he had stockpiled, but there was no doubt he access to some seriously lethal resources. Which meant stopping him would take the combined efforts of all those involved—Fate’s Vultures, Lilith and the Free People. And even then, Havoc worried it might not be enough.

  Humanity wasn’t what it once was, their numbers decimated during the Collapse and its aftermath. Population went from the millions to thousands, and in some places to single digits. Seventy-plus years may have passed, but humans were just getting back to living versus surviving. Not everyone, but enough that an all-out war between territories could spell the end of what was left of civilisation this side of the Mississippi. Recognising the inevitable end of this whole fucked up situation, Reaper, and by extension, the Vultures, agreed to work with Lilith, and now Istaqa to ensure it never came to pass. As much as he wasn’t keen about taking on Michael, he was a hell of a lot less keen on playing the role of foot solider in someone else’s war. He had enough of that shit to last more than one lifetime during the Border Wars, even if those same wars gave him the necessary skills to save what little had been left of his soul.

  Shaking free of the dark memories, he turned his mind to something a little less terrifying, although not by much—Mercy. She was a bundle of contradictions, all secrets and boldness. She made no effort to hide she was down with exploring how dirty things could get between them. A trait he liked a hell of a lot. Hell, his dick still ached despite Vex’s cockblocking. But with his dick out of the driver’s seat, he had to admit it was probably for the best. Yeah, he wanted Mercy, but not everything you wanted was good for you, and he wasn’t convinced she ever would be.

  Take her knife and skulking skills, skills that were breathtaking to watch. You didn’t get that good from being some garden-variety hired gun. Nope, skills like that were honed with precision for a specific reason. Reasons she wasn’t at all willing to share. He got that, really he did. He had a few dark paths of his own he didn’t want anyone trotting down, but he was worried hers would harm those he called his and that was a risk he wasn’t sure he was willing to take. The woman carried secrets deep, so deep he wondered if once he stopped digging he’d be able to find his way back to the surface. Yet even knowing that, he was the world’s biggest dumbshit because he still considered setting his shovel in her dirt to unearth those hints of buried treasure.

  Take last night when she almost managed to sneak by him. He couldn’t even pinpoint what had given her away since he caught her on her way back from the communication room. All he knew was one moment he was asleep, the next he was on his feet heading down the hall. He caught her as she slipped out of the room and headed back. Watching her, he recognised her skill and knew this wasn’t the first time she’d snuck around, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. His anger when he hauled her to her room hadn’t been with her, because he knew she would try it, but with himself for failing to get ahead of her. Which meant he lost his chance to find out who she worked for.

  So when he had her beneath him, he pushed and he pushed hard, setting that shovel deep. He hadn’t expected her to give him what she did, and it surprised him that she’d take such a risk. It wasn’t hard to see her loyalty was torn, which was more proof she was a bundle of contradictions. As much as Reaper would give him shit for it, Havoc believed Mercy wanted to share, but couldn’t. He got that, but he really hoped to hell her balance was as good as she thought, because the loyalty lines she walked were gut clinchingly thin.

  No doubt she was in a tough position, but he had to admire how she handled it. She didn’t lie, instead she shared where she could. That, plus the hatred, the depth of which couldn’t be faked, that peeked around her mask when she denied working for Michael spoke to the core of the woman she was, but it still left one very fucking important question unanswered. Who the hell was she working for? Adding an unknown into the volatile mix could throw things into a tailspin with a single act. Which meant he might want to sink into her body and take his time fucking her, but he had to be damn sure she didn’t fuck him in return. It was strange because when it came to women, he had no issue keeping it all about the sex, but not with her. How the hell she managed to get to him in a way no woman had since—he cut the thought off before it could fully form, refusing to give it life. He couldn’t go there. Not yet, maybe not fucking ever.

  For now he’d keep his focus on tracking Felix’s ass down and getting the roach to squeal on his partner, then he could worry about Mercy. Maybe he’d get lucky and get his proof of Michael’s involvement. Not to mention how satisfying it would be just to take the fucker out before things escaped containment and left a shit of a mess in its wake. Unfortunately blessings like those didn’t just drop from the sky, unless they were prepared to crush you beneath their weight.

  At that thought he cocked a quick look to the expanse of blue stretched above him. By the way, that wasn’t an invite.

  Thankfully, no-one answered.

  * * *

  Vex’s dust trail was long gone by the time Havoc led Mercy through Page’s backstreets. They pulled into the small lot behind Lee’s pub, the rumble of the two engines bouncing off the narrow alley confines and turning deafening before they rolled to a stop. Havoc shut his bike down, then dismounted, watching Mercy follow suit as the noise faded away. He pulled down the bandana he wore to keep dust from turning his nose and mouth into wasteland, and shook his head trying to get the ringing in his hears to stop. Next to him, Mercy pulled off her beat-up baseball hat, bent at the waist and shook her hair out. A small dust cloud escaped and drifted away. Straightening, she gathered her hair, tucked it through the cap in a makeshift ponytail.

  She turned to him, her face shadowed by the brim, chin angled as she watched him. ‘Where to first?’

  ‘Bar.’ Because despite the bandana he still needed to wash the grit from his mouth. Not to mention it was the most logical starting place when looking for out of towners.

  ‘What about the bikes?’

  ‘They’ll be fine.’ And they would because no-one messed with Lee. One of the main reasons the Vultures crashed here when passing through. Throwing punches and raising hell was a great way to pass the time when you were bored, but not so great if you were aiming for a bit of shut-eye. Therefore the Vultures picked crash pads where such activities were highly limited. Lee’s being one of them. ‘Come on.’

  He led the way through Lee’s back door. They passed through what used to be some kind of screened in porch and hit the kitchen to find Lee manning the stove, a fairly clean apron wrapped around his thick frame. At their entrance he turned, his face red from the heat, spatula in hand. ‘Havoc.’ His gaze went to Mercy as Havoc’s hand nudged her towards the sink on the wall. ‘Miss.’

  She flicked her fingers in a wave even as she headed to the sink.

  ‘Morning, Lee.’ Havoc followed Mercy, waiting while she splashed her face before he took his turn. He finished drying his face and asked, ‘We miss breakfast?’

  Still working the stove, Lee used his head to indicate the shelf of plates. ‘Grab one, can fill you up before I shut it down for the morning.’

  Havoc tossed the towel on the edge of the sink and moved to the plates. ‘Grateful.’ Nabbing two, he stood at Lee’s side as eggs and bacon were shuffled on to the plates.

  Lee slid the last piece of bacon on to the plate. ‘Things okay up the canyon?’

  ‘They will be.’

  At Havoc’s answer, relief eased some of the lines on Lee’s face. ‘Good, that’s good.’ He turned off the stove, shifted the pan to a back burner and took his spatula to the sink. ‘You stick
ing around?’

  Havoc handed a plate to Mercy, who took it with a chin lift. Scrounging around he found two forks, handing her one, before he leaned back against the counter’s edge. ‘For a bit, just need to track a man down.’ He took a bite of fluffy eggs.

  Lee shot him a look over his shoulder as he washed dishes. ‘Which man?’

  ‘Hispanic,’ Mercy chimed in, motioning with a piece of bacon. ‘Kind of a dick, thinks he’s hot shit, had two sidekicks stuck to his ass.’ She took a bite of her bacon and grinned.

  Lee’s lips curved as he turned back to his dishes. ‘Yeah, they were here last night. Main one was pretty quiet, sitting back like he was lord of the manor, just liked to watch and drink. But one of his sidekicks tried starting something with one of the boys and got shot down real quick.’ He set a handful of silverware on a drying board. ‘Stayed a few hours, then headed out.’

  ‘Any idea to where?’ Havoc asked before heeding his stomach’s demand for more and taking another bite. There was a reason Lee’s was always busy, his cooking was damn good.

  ‘Margo’s, I think, but not sure,’ Lee offered, sliding him a look. ‘I’m sure she’ll be happy to share with you.’

  Frowning at Lee’s implication, Havoc looked to his plate, hoping to hide his wince. Yeah, Margo made no bones about what she’d like from him, but it wasn’t a shared thing. Had nothing to do with her chosen profession, it was all Margo. The woman might run a successful whorehouse and present the picture of independence, but the truth was, she was on the hunt for a man of her own. Last time Havoc had stopped in, she made no bones about wanting that man to be him despite what he wanted. Therefore, he took pains to steer clear.

  ‘Margo’s?’ That came from Mercy.

  Lee gave her a look, then went back to washing without answering, so Havoc did. ‘A brothel down the street. Most visitors end up there sooner or later.’

  ‘Cool. Guess it’ll be our first stop then.’ Without batting an eyelash, Mercy went back to her breakfast.

  Havoc sighed and made quick work of his food. When they were done they handed off their dishes to Lee and headed out.

  Havoc waited until they were on the street heading to Margo’s before he spoke. ‘You seriously cool about this?’

  At his side, Mercy looked to him, confusion clear on her face. ‘Cool about what?’

  ‘Going to a whorehouse.’ He wasn’t even sure why he was asking. Hell, every time Vex visited one, she ended up making best friends. Something told him Mercy was made from the same cloth, but he had to ask.

  Her lips twitched and humour lit her eyes, adding a green shimmer. ‘Why? Think I haven’t been in one before?’

  He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away, scanning the light morning bustle. Mainly so he wouldn’t give in and take that mouth. ‘Most females find visiting such a place uncomfortable.’

  ‘I’m not most females, babe.’ To underscore the tease in her voice, she bumped her shoulder into his arm. ‘And to let you know, this ain’t my first whorehouse.’

  And being the male he was, like any male that answer brought to mind all sorts of wicked things. Judging from her widening grin, she knew it too. He wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close and dropped his head to her ear. ‘You’re a tease.’

  She threw back her head and laughed, holding his gaze the entire time. It was stunning to watch and something deep in his chest where nothing reached, softened. Her joy was plain to see, lightening her eyes and adding colour to her cheeks. It took her from pretty to beautiful. When she was down to soft chuckles, she didn’t pull away, keeping pace with him, their hips bumping.

  They made it another block before she spoke. ‘Let you in on a little secret.’

  He didn’t miss the tentative offering. ‘What’s that?’

  He came to a stop when she did, and they both stepped back out of the flow of foot traffic. He had his back to a building when she turned into him, stepping between his legs, palms against his chest to brace. He cupped her hips to help steady her as she rose to tip toe to share. Her earlier humour replaced by an intensity he didn’t quite get. She held his gaze, worried her bottom lip and then shared, her body going stiff. ‘Spent my younger years with Momma as she worked the streets in Lost Angels.’

  His muscles tensed as he took that unexpected hit, but he didn’t lose her gaze. ‘Must have sucked.’ He wanted to ask more questions, but on the street tracking Felix wasn’t the place to do that.

  At his ready acceptance some of her tension disappeared and she dropped flat footed. ‘Yeah, it did,’ she confirmed. ‘But not like there’s a lot of options for a woman when she loses her man. Especially when she’s used to her man taking care of her and her baby. She lost him, she did what she had to and made sure we had a roof and food.’ She paused and studied his face. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she must have found it because she continued. ‘So, no, visiting Margo’s won’t make me uncomfortable.’

  He squeezed her hips and gave her a grin. ‘Good to know.’ Then he decided to award her gift with one of his own. ‘Fair warning, I’m depending on you.’

  She arched a brow. ‘For?’

  ‘Protection.’

  ‘From what? Overzealous whores?’

  ‘Just one,’ he confirmed as he stepped away from their spot and re-entered the street, her hand caught in his. He dipped his head close and gave her, ‘Margo.’

  It earned him another laugh and a, ‘I promise to keep your virtue safe, babe.’

  Chapter 14

  For Mercy, stepping into Margo’s was like taking a step back in time. It wasn’t traumatic, but the memories gathered. She hadn’t lied to Havoc. Her mother had worked the streets of Lost Angels, starting off solo and eventually moving under the wing of Lacey, one of the better madams who made a killing supplying flesh for those with the credits to pay. Lacey didn’t discriminate on who she sent her girls (and boys) to, so long as the credits were good, but she had one standing rule—return her gifts in the same shape they arrived in. Not many pimps—male or female—took that level of care. Not in the free for all that was Lost Angels. Caught between the territorial lines of the Cartels, Raiders, Michael, and Free People, Lost Angels gathered a volatile mix of personalities which meant survival was a solo gig.

  Once Mercy’s momma settled in at Lacey’s, Mercy had free run of the house and the surrounding blocks, and she made the most of it. Lacey’s stable might be skilled in sex, but when it came to handling reality, they were the shit, and Mercy soaked their expertise up like a sponge. How to interpret the language of faces and body to prep your mark, the best places to hide weapons in plain sight, how to distract, how to con, how to pick up useful tidbits, how to watch and listen without being seen—all of that and more made up Mercy’s early education. An education that served her well once she lost her momma and the questionable safety of Lacey’s protection.

  ‘Heya, sugar.’ The drawled greeting was courtesy of the woman bent over a ledger on a high counter, a pen dancing in her fingers. At their entrance she’d lifted her head, light glinting off her cat-eyed glasses perched on a delicate slope of a nose. Added to the artfully gathered, sloppy pile of curls, and close-fitted top with more than a hint of cleavage, she rocked the sexy librarian vibe. Her red lips, which curved as she gave Havoc a full-body scan, shifted to Mercy, brightened as her smile notched up a level. ‘Darlin’.’

  Recognising the tactic Mercy grinned and decided this was not Margo, because if she was, she wouldn’t have looked twice at Mercy. Instead, the woman sized up the possibility of the incoming couple with the skill and speed of a master. A man coming in with a woman on his arm, meant the best way to make the most of your soon to be appointment was to ensure his female really enjoyed her experience. So, no, not Margo.

  As Mercy and Havoc crossed the open room, she noted that at some point Margo’s had been a hotel. Two floors curled around the main room. From what she could see doors lined the second floor, but while she could see
the third floor level, the angle made it difficult to see it too was lined with doors as well. Regardless, the layout made it perfect for its current reincarnation. Which if you didn’t know was a house of ill repute, you wouldn’t guess by its interior.

  There were no red lights, scantily clad bodies lounging on overstuffed furniture, or the haze of smoke indicating the use of substances you could snort, smoke or shoot. That alone made it a step above most whorehouses. Instead, the simple, but comfortable furniture was collected into various groupings, encouraging conversation, or in the case of the three women and one man off to the sides with various objects piled in the centre, a long game of cards.

  On the other side, a honey-skinned beauty was painting her toenails, her bare foot propped on a coffee table. There were others scattered around, and all watched to some degree as she and Havoc made their way to the counter. Even the skin on display was tastefully arranged—shorts to showcase long legs, fitted tops with a peek or two of undeniable cleavage, understated make-up—the overall picture one of casual, but approachable beauty. She had to give Margo credit, it worked well. Also evidenced by the snuggling couples curled up in the corner despite the mid-morning hour.

  When they hit the counter, Mercy put her elbows to it and gave the librarian a cheerful, ‘Hey, I’m Mercy.’

  Red lips twitched as their greeter mirrored her, propping an elbow on the counter and resting her chin in her palm. ‘Hey, Mercy, I’m Sage.’