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

by Jami Gray

  Havoc took the hit of the unexpected offer and set his food back on the plate before shooting back, ‘Only taking you up if you don’t leave our asses hanging, man.’

  Dog laughed, but there was nothing funny in the sound. ‘No worries there. World’s twisting, me and the boys figure better to hold on to those who can ride it than those causing it.’

  His response made Havoc wonder just what kind of trouble Dog and his boys had found. Any other time, Havoc would be all about discovering that answer, but right now, Mercy’s brand of trouble was about all he could handle. So he brought the conversation back around. ‘You want to help?’ He nabbed a fry as he waited for Dog’s nod. ‘I’m chasing a scent, need a trail.’ He popped the fry in his mouth.

  Dog shifted, dropped his arm and stole a fry. He straightened in his seat as he chewed, then folded his arms on the table. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. ‘What kind and how old?’

  ‘The kind that stinks to high heaven, and fresh.’

  Dog stole another fry. ‘Care to elaborate considering we’ve got a few of those around here?’

  ‘Any of them carrying Cartel stench?’

  Chapter 16

  Munching her stunningly delicious hamburger, Mercy didn’t miss the tension taking Havoc’s buddy from laid-back flirt to hard-eyed focus. ‘Cartel?’ The question came out on a low growl. ‘Thought you were done with that shit, my man?’

  Havoc’s answer was to take a bite of his burger while eyeing Dog. Frustrated impatience thinned Dog’s mouth, but the silent battle of wills continued. Finally, he sighed and leaned back, a disgruntled frown on his face.

  Mercy dropped her attention back to her dinner, hiding her amusement at two hard asses acting like boys determined to one up each other. She swallowed her bite, then dragged a fry through the ketchup on her plate, before popping it in her mouth. As she chewed she felt the weight of attention fall to her. Determined to play it cool, she took her time lifting her lashes and meeting Dog’s speculative gaze.

  ‘That explains it,’ he muttered. As much as she wanted to ask, she didn’t because whatever thoughts chased behind those dark orbs stayed hidden. Yet when he turned back to Havoc, Mercy got the impression Dog’s decision was made. ‘You sticking around?’

  Ever eloquent, Havoc rumbled, ‘At Royale.’

  ‘Good. I’ll sniff around, share what I find.’ He snagged his bottle, pushed out of the booth, and without looking back, went back to his boys and cards.

  She and Havoc continued their meal, the silence resting easy between them. She watched Dog reclaim his seat and the game pick back up. One thing she could say about hanging with Havoc, boring it was not. When only crumbs remained on their plates, Mercy settled back, feeling Havoc’s arm slide back over her shoulder, his solid strength a wall of heat at her side. Their waitress did a run by, gathering plates and setting two fresh bottles on the table. After she left, Mercy let the quiet resume. Eventually she spoke. ‘Didn’t know Fate’s Vultures ran with the Dogs of War.’

  ‘Don’t always, but sometimes they’re good to have at your heels.’ He drained his bottle, set the empty back on the table, and then snagged a new one.

  ‘Wasn’t expecting company on this trip, Havoc.’ She wasn’t trying to be a bitch. Not really. Since she was used to working alone, having company she didn’t invite made her neck twitch.

  His position didn’t change, his gaze continuing to roam over the room, but he still shared. ‘Need usable information, he’s good for it.’

  Okay, maybe trust didn’t come easy, but Havoc hadn’t steered her wrong yet. ‘Hope so.’

  At her muttered comment, he looked to her. ‘Know so.’ When her doubt stayed put he added, ‘Dog’s smart. He hasn’t failed before, won’t be starting now. ‘Sides, with the eyes he has on the ground, we’ll find our roach a hell of a lot faster.’

  Seeing the solid belief in his rugged features, she heaved a sigh.

  Hearing it, his lips twitched. ‘It comes down to professional honour, babe. He’ll come through.’

  His explanation actually settled better because it made sense in a way she could understand. The Dogs of War, like Fate’s Vultures, had a reputation to uphold, and when everything rested on your reputation, you didn’t shit on it. Of the many gangs roving through the land, it was a known fact that if you set the Dogs of War on a scent, they’d run it to the ground. They might straddle the line between profit and justice with an innate sense of footing, but they were damn good at what they did. They had to be to hold their own because professional competition was a killer. Literally.

  Inside some of the bigger settlements existed varied forms of organised enforcement, but they were few and far between. This left the areas in between and the smaller communities a free for all. Which is why groups like Fate’s Vultures, the Dogs of War, and others existed. Their presence offered some semblance of order in the midst of chaos, even if it came at a price. The Vultures tended to land, more often than not, on the side of justice. Unfortunately, some groups chose their lust for power over order, leaving terror and devastation in their wake. Such was the case with the Raiders and the Cartel who tore through anyone stupid enough to stand in their way. Other groups sat somewhere between justice and greed on the good/evil scale and were out purely for profit, trafficking in whatever would line their pockets—weapons, protection, food—because everything had a price. And someone was always willing to pay.

  Then there was her boss, who stayed in the shadows because he wasn’t about profit or power, he was all about revenge. She might not always agree on how he went about it, but she understood it. It hadn’t always been the case. Like acid, the memories crept through the scars etched deep in her bones. Before they could corrode her fragile peace, she stepped back from the abyss with the ease of long practice.

  ‘How’d you know he’d be here?’ Yeah, yeah, curiosity killed the damn cat, but even she had to admit this meet seemed freakishly convenient.

  ‘Didn’t.’

  When he didn’t say anything more, she turned and levelled a hard-to-miss glare at his profile.

  He turned his head, caught her look, and his lips twitched, but at least he kept talking. ‘Took a chance he’d be here. If not him, would’ve picked someone else.’ He tipped his bottled towards the rowdy crowd. ‘Dog’s not the only option, just the best.’

  Her glare eased, but not her worry, so she pressed a little more, just in case she missed a crack somewhere. ‘Forget the crap about professional reputation, do you trust him?’

  He shrugged. ‘To tell me where Felix is holed up? Yeah. Dog’s got more of a hard-on for the Cartel than I do.’

  Which reminded her of what else she wanted to ask him. She shifted in her seat until she faced him, then she pulled her leg up, knee resting against the back, her foot tucked under his thigh. She set her elbow on the table, and propped her head on her hand. ‘And why is that?’

  The bottle he lifted paused as he slid a long, considering look her way. ‘Not my story to share.’ The bottle hit his lips and he tilted his head back.

  She shook her head watching his throat work. ‘Not asking for Dog’s story, I’m asking for yours.’

  He dropped his head, set the bottle on the table, but didn’t let it go. For a breathless moment he didn’t look at her and his face remained impassive, but she waited him out. Tension coiled through him and seeped into her. It tightened her muscles and formed a heavy pit in her stomach. She bit her lip to keep from pushing harder. She wished she could chalk up her need to hear his story to curiosity, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—lie to herself. It was much more than that, so much more it bordered on an ache. One specific to discovering what made Havoc tick. Her head began to swim and only when he spoke did she realise she’d been holding her breath.

  ‘Was married once.’

  The three words hit her like a gut punch. The air trapped in her chest came out in a hiss and the hand hidden in her lap, curled into a fist. Yeah, not the answer she expected. She kep
t her eyes on his profile as he stared into the bar without seeing it.

  ‘Lived outside of Navajo City with Sienna. We grew up together. Always knew we’d be together. Made it official at eighteen. Lived with her parents because she was their only child. Didn’t like leaving her alone since I worked on the dam. Living with them eased my mind, especially after she got pregnant.’

  His second hit caused Mercy’s heart to hurt at the wealth of emotion caught in that one word, but she kept her mouth shut and listened, determined to give him a safe ear.

  ‘She was a weaver. Made beautiful shit. Learned from her ma.’ He stopped, his jaw flexing.

  That stark look sent dread curling through Mercy. Unable to help herself, knowing this wouldn’t end well, she reached out and laid her hand on his thigh. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could offer.

  Surprisingly, his hand dropped to cover hers. ‘Shit was heating up on the border. We heard about it, just thought we were too far north to worry. Still, her dad kept a shotgun at hand, and Istaqa would send out riders to check. Not just on us, on all the outlying families.’ Memories, dark and brutal, swept over his face, leaving harsh angles in its wake. His hand flexed, increasing the pressure until her bones ached, but she kept mute unwilling to interrupt. ‘Cartel scouts hit our spread and three others. Left nothing but ashes and blood behind.’

  Sparse and to the point, his retelling barely skimmed the surface of his scars. She didn’t need the details, and he didn’t need to voice them. She’d seen enough horror in her life to fill in the blanks and add depth to the nightmares sweeping through the protective heart of the man next to her. Unable to do anything but bear silent witness to his internal battle, unexpected tears hit hard and hot, demanding release. She held them in check knowing they wouldn’t be appreciated.

  His voice was as barren as the desert, the pressure on her hand relentless, her fingers going numb. ‘Came home, found them. Buried them. Then headed south. Spent the next few years earning a new name.’

  El Verdugo. Spanish for ‘The Butcher’ and the name the idiots who jumped them used. Seeing the ruthless lines in his profile and feeling the arctic chill emanating from him as he roamed through the past, she got how he earned it. And knowing this, she also realised she needed to bring him back to now before he slipped too far into the treacherous past. She cleared her throat, easing the stranglehold empathy had on her throat. ‘Works for me.’ Reading the look he shot her, she explained, ‘On why you’re jonesing to help me with Felix.’

  ‘Glad you approve.’ His voice clearly indicated he didn’t give a damn if she did or not.

  Though his grip eased on her hand, she knew they weren’t out of the past’s reach yet, so in an attempt to guide him out, she decided to return the honour he gave her. Some truths she couldn’t give him, but this … yeah, this she could because it belonged to her. She kept hold of his hand and took him along the streets of her history. ‘In the early years leading up to the Border Wars, Momma worked at Red Lacey’s, and she caught the eye of an Artiza lieutenant. Became his favourite, actually.’ She knew she had his attention, because the thigh muscles under her hand got rock hard and his eyes cut straight to her.

  She kept her attention on her bottle, turning it slowly against the table. ‘The Artiza’s and the Suárez’s were at each other’s throats.’ Not an unusual situation since the two families might both be part of the Cartel, but they hated each other with a passion. ‘Who the hell knows what sparked the feud that time, but it was vicious and bloody. When they weren’t focused on keeping others from taking Lost Angels, they sharpened their blades on each other.’

  She knew he was listening, could feel it in his stillness, but she couldn’t look at him. This story hurt to tell and only one other had heard it, years ago. Havoc would be the second and she wouldn’t admit, not even in her secret heart, why she chose him. There was only so much a girl like her could take. ‘Considering who he was and what he did, Alonzo wasn’t so bad. He treated Momma well, giving her pretty things, making her feel special, never raised a hand to her. Even managed to tolerate me. He eventually moved us out to a small apartment, still in neutral territory but closer to the Artiza’s hood. We’d been living there for close to a month and Momma was over the moon, thinking it meant more than it did. Not like he did anything to dull her hope, just kept doing what he always did, making her happy.’

  And for the first time in her young life, she got to see her momma happy, really happy. It was a memory she cherished, tucking it close when shit got dark, because shit always got dark.

  ‘I came home one night and found the door had been kicked open. The neighbours were huddled behind their doors, because it wasn’t smart to get involved in anyone else’s drama.’ Memories crowded in, bringing the same roiling sickness to pitch her stomach while dread curled through her, leaving her shaky. Images filled with blood and destruction rose in a blinding wave, while the acidic echo of her horror and rage swept through the well-worn grooves of her soul. She gripped her bottle, holding tight to the present, and forcing the nightmare back into its cage.

  ‘Momma and Alonzo were in the front room where the Suárez dogs left them, their handiwork on display. He died hard, she died harder, much harder.’ Strung up and gutted, Alonzo’s unseeing eyes were aimed at her mom below him. Her beautiful mother torn in places no human should ever be torn, then tossed aside like nothing more than trash.

  Havoc’s hand curled under her braid and wrapped carefully around her neck, gripping it gently. She sucked in a deep breath at his silent commiseration, regathered her composure, and shoved her childhood nightmares back under the rug. She lifted her bottle, took a long drink, chasing away the lingering pain. When she finished, she finally met his gaze. ‘So yeah, I get you.’

  He studied her, his face giving nothing away, but his eyes softened. ‘Yeah, I guess you do.’

  Knowing she needed to get them both free of the past, she changed their direction, forcing a small smile. ‘Guessing during your stint in the Border Wars is where you hooked up with the other Vultures?’

  Her detour worked. The gentle grip on her neck eased as he uncurled his fingers and let her go. His hand went to the table, his gaze following. He reclaimed his bottle, lifted it, took a drink, and then set it down. ‘With Reaper, yeah.’ The edge in his voice smoothed out to his normal rumble. ‘Found Vex and Ruin a couple years later.’

  She hid her wince at her obvious mistake. Vex had to be close to her age, which meant she would’ve been just hitting the double digit age range during that time. Right, well, it sounded like another story, but considering how this last one went, it could wait for another time. Besides, she needed to make a pit stop now that she wasn’t worried about leaving Havoc on his own. Two and a half home-brews strained the limits of her bladder. ‘Story for later. Right now, I need to hit the bathroom.’

  The bottle Havoc lifted, paused and then hit the table as he shook his head. ‘Light weight.’ He slid out, but stayed close.

  She used a palm against his chest for balance as she exited the booth, unsurprised when her head spun a bit with the change in position. On her feet, she patted his chest. ‘Don’t go anywhere, don’t fancy walking all the way back to town.’

  He caught her wrist before she could take a step. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. ‘You get back, it’s my turn for questions.’

  Turning her head, she found they were so close her lips brushed his jaw. Unable to resist, she pressed her lips to his heated skin, feeling the rasp of his stubble. ‘If you’re lucky, I might answer.’

  His head lifted, but his eyes stared into hers as he finally let her go.

  She made her way through the bar, aiming for the short hall off the back. The numbers inside had grown as they ate, and she was careful to slip around tables and bodies doing her damnedest to keep a low profile. Chances of the bounty hitting this far north were slim, but doable. She did keep her eye out in case Felix decided to drop in. Not that he’d be easy to spo
t since the lighting inside was for shit. Despite her care, she took a few body bumps that thankfully didn’t cause any trouble, and made it to the bathrooms.

  Using her shoulder she went to push open the W branded door only to hit resistance. She backed off even as a muffled curse sounded. The door was yanked open and a pair of brunettes emerged. They gave her the evil eye even as she stood to the side letting them pass. Once their asses flounced away, Mercy slipped inside, grateful to find the place empty. She didn’t waste time making use of the facilities. Finished, she stood at the stained sink and washed her hands. When she couldn’t find anything to dry them with, she wiped them on her pants.

  On the second brush she realised there was something in her pocket. Frowning, she made sure her hands were as dry as she could get them before she reached in. Sure enough, her fingers encountered a crumpled piece of paper. Her pulse leapt, then steadied. Pulling it out, she kept it in her palm as she did another scan of the small bathroom. Empty. She went to the door and leaned against it, not wanting anyone to walk in. Then she smoothed out the paper. To anyone else the chicken scratch would be indecipherable, to her it was anything but. She scanned the familiar code and mentally translated. Tomorrow. Noon. J and Tenth. Solo.

  Damnshitfuck, Math. His timing as always was for shit, not to mention the request for this to be a one-on-one meet. Even as frustration roiled through her, she balled the message, stepped to the nearest toilet, dropped it in, and flushed, watching it circle and disappear. Her boss, Mathis, or as he preferred to be called, Math, made better time than she expected. She turned and gripped the edges of the sink, staring unseeingly in the chipped bowl. After the intense sharing session with Havoc and what brought her north, she wasn’t ready for this meet, not yet. She needed confirmation of Felix’s whereabouts at least. Something she wasn’t sure even Dog could come up with in a matter of hours. Plus, she still had to figure out how to explain Havoc’s involvement. Not to mention how difficult it would be to ditch Havoc just to make the damn meet.