Indulgence (12 page)

Without another word, I spun on my heel and left the office,
weaving through the dark club, avoiding the stripper from before. There was
something I needed to sate and it wasn’t my cock. If anyone was going near it,
it would be Mercy.

Shoving out into the night, I pulled up the address from the
job application on my phone and made a note of the surrounding streets and
buildings.

It was time to go hunting.

Mercy

X had disappeared again.

Like it was my business to know his comings and goings. I
was acting like a needy girlfriend, but there was a problem with that. X wasn’t
mine, even if I had silently pledged myself to him. He didn’t want me like
that. If he did, he’d just take me. He’d taken nothing but my body.

Still, I was desperate to know what his business with the Necromancers
was. Weiss knew, but he wasn’t telling, which meant I had to take matters into
my own hands. If I started asking more questions than I already had, then he’d
become suspicious. He trusted me, which in turn meant that the whole of Royal
Blood did too.

Weiss thought I was obsessing over X and it had to stay that
way. It wasn’t exactly a lie, it was just holding out on the entire truth. He
knew I wanted to get lost, he just didn’t know why. They’d just assumed I was
running from an abusive husband and I never made any move to correct them.

I worked the bar at The Gambler’s Inn all afternoon and
night, waiting for my chance. On Wednesdays Weiss left early and left me on my
own to lock up, which meant it had been a week since I’d seen X.

The thought of him sent shivers down my spine. The cold and
calculating biker who fell asleep in my bed. The man who was the ultimate
puzzle. Scarred inside
and
out.

“I’m out, Mercy,” Weiss said, breaking me out of my
thoughts.

“Right,” I replied, picking up a cloth to start wiping down
the bar.

“You can close early if you want to.” He nodded at the empty
pub. “No fuckers are here, so you may as well.”

“You’re giving me an hour off?” I cocked my head to the
side.

He laughed at my reaction. “I’ll still pay you for it.”

“Fucking good.”

Waving, he strode across the pub and shoved out the door. A
moment later, I was on my own. Rounding the bar, I double checked the toilets
and locked the outside door.

I busied myself with clean up, just to make sure Weiss
wasn’t coming back. Forty minutes later, I was finished, ready to leave and
still alone, so I made my move. It was now or never. I had a bad feeling and it
was here to stay until I put my fears to rest.

Slipping into Weiss’ office, I glanced at the desk with a
hollow stare, my ass smarting from the memory of X slapping me. My pussy was
ruling my brain and I was getting sloppy.

Opening the desk drawers, I found nothing but cigarettes,
old lighters, old papers and pens. Weiss was a fucking slob. He reeked like an
ashtray and from the state of his desk, I didn’t want to know what his house
looked like. I didn’t even want to think about it.

Instead of wasting time searching through the mess, I
crossed over to the filing cabinet. I didn’t know if I’d find anything
incriminating in there, not unless he’d forgotten to remove something, but it
was worth a shot. Weiss could be a lazy asshole but there was nothing about the
place that had warranted a police raid lately, so I might just get lucky.

I flipped through the first drawer, but it was all paperwork
for the pub. Invoices, licenses and inbox outbox kind of stuff. Cracking open
the second drawer, I laid my hands on a large, thick, orange envelope. Slipping
it half out of the filing cabinet drawer, I checked for any clue as to what was
inside. Along the top was written the word ‘copy’ in black marker, but it was
the name that caught my attention.

Xavier Blood. His name was Xavier Blood. Had to be.

Peering inside the envelope, I saw that there were three
files crammed full of papers. Was this the job he was working on for the
Necromancers? The super secret job that Weiss kept warning me away from and the
job that had brought those five bikers into the pub looking to get back at X?
The one that had five dead bodies staining the carpet red out front?

I pulled out the files from the envelope, my hands shaking.
I wondered what answers I’d find or if there’d be any at all. I was a smart
woman, a few clues and I could piece the rest together from what I already
knew. I was like a fucked up Nancy Drew, solving mysteries I had no place
knowing the mechanics of.

I was looking to get lost and this was not getting lost. Not
if I got caught.

A photograph fluttered to the floor, slipping from the first
file and landing face down on the carpet. Picking it up, I flipped it over.

My blood ran cold.

I dropped the photograph, my fingers going numb. It was me.
It was a photograph of
me
. Blonde hair, full cheeks, a healthier version
of the woman I used to be. With trembling hands, I flipped open the file and almost
vomited. A brutal crime scene photograph stared up at me, my father’s lifeless
gaze captured on film. Blood. Thick, sticky, congealed…splattered on the walls,
pooled on the floor. Staining the plush carpet with death.

Bam. Right between the eyes.

The sheet of paper stapled on the cover of the folder had
the words, ‘Suspected Target’ printed at the top. Below was a profile, a very
detailed profile of Alison Crawford. Of me.

I doubled over, hugging the folder to my stomach, trying to
keep the bile that had risen in the back of my throat from erupting over Weiss’
coffee table. There was only one explanation for this. One and one only.

X was a hitman.

X was looking for me.

X was going to kill me.

No, this couldn't be right. The first time I let myself feel
any connection since that night and I chose X. I chose him for a reason. His
darkness was mine. I was his. I didn’t understand any of it.

He couldn't find out.

What was I meant to do? How could I play the master at his
own game and win? I had already been living it without knowing, I just had to
take the final step.

Alison Crawford was dead. I had to become Mercy Reid.
Totally, irrevocably, completely.

My chance for revenge would come. It would just be played
out in a different way. To get the thing I wanted most, I had to give up my
soul.

If X could do it, so could I.

Keep the master close and beat him at his own game.

This time I wouldn't choke. If I did, the man who I was
falling for would put a bullet in my head and not even feel remorseful.

Holy fucked up romance.

X

The air was heavy with fog as I lurked in the darkness,
watching…waiting.

It was quiet, the sounds of far off traffic muffled in the
thick night air. It was close to being over. Everything hummed with the promise
of freedom.

I traced the butt of my gun with the pad of my thumb,
loosening it from where I’d shoved it down the back of my jeans. I knew this
building. I’d been here twice before, so I knew the route already.

It was Mercy’s apartment building.

I recognized it from my hasty entrances and exits, but I
never saw the number on her door. Mercy wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t fucking
stupid.

I’d let her get to me, worm her way into my heart and make
it start fucking beating again and this is what I got in return. I was slipping.
I should know what number her apartment was, where it was located in the
building, the color of the fucking carpet and if her kitchen had tiled or
linoleum floors. I should know every single detail of her apartment, but I
didn’t. I didn’t know shit.

Mercy Reid had ruined me and she didn’t even know it.

I shoved my hand into my coat pocket and held onto the
photograph of Alison Crawford. I had to get her confession and cross her face
off. She was the only one who could’ve attempted that hit.

She was the only one who fit the profile.

I’d get her to confess. Women were the easiest to draw
information from, despite being able to withstand pain the longest. This
wouldn’t take long, then I was out. I’d deliver the goods and then I would
disappear.

Xavier Blood would become a ghost.

If Mercy was looking to get lost, could I take her with me?
If she knew the kind of man I was, how dark I was inside, she’d want nothing to
do with me. I was good for one thing and one thing only. Killing. A monster
couldn’t love. I couldn’t feel anything, so why even try.

Moving through the shadows, I crossed the street, keeping my
head low. Pushing into the foyer and climbing the stairs, I kept my hands free,
dangling at my sides, ready to draw if there was trouble. Ready to strike if
the target tried to run.

I had two options. Kill her in her home or, if she put up a
fight, tranquilize her and do the deed elsewhere. It didn’t matter which, I’d
still have my fun.

Striding down the empty hall, past other doors and other
homes, I stopped outside number thirty four. This would be over very soon and
my blood ran thicker with the knowledge that the monster within would soon be
sated.

Twisting the knob, I found the door was unlocked. Stupid
woman.

Stepping into the dark apartment, I smelt vanilla and spice.
Images of Mercy slammed into my brain and I shook my head, cramming all
memories of her away into the dark place inside my mind. I’d see her soon.

Sounds of rushed movement came from the other room as I
closed the door softly behind me. Drawers were opening and closing, clothes
rustling. The sound of a zipper. She was going to run, but it was too late.

Moving silently through the lounge and into the bedroom, a
woman was shoving clothes haphazardly into a duffle bag. Her long, lean body was
hunched over the bed, her long black hair falling in soft waves down her back.

I wouldn’t need the tranquilizer. I could just shoot the
bitch and be done with it.

Pressing the barrel into the back of her head, the woman
tensed.

“Turn around,” I snarled. “Do it fucking slowly. I'm going
to look into your eyes as the bullet passes through your head. That's the best
bit, don't you know?”

The woman began to pivot on her heel slowly, her hands
rising. As the barrel of the gun tracked its way across her skull, a feeling of
dread began to settle in my gut. When her blue eyes met mine, my arm went slack
and the gun fell away.

I'd been played. The master had been
played
.

“Mercy?”

(Part Two)

X

I grabbed Mercy around the neck and slammed her into the
wall, her pretty head cracking against the plaster.

“Start talking,” I spat, trailing the barrel of my gun along
her cheek.

“X,” she managed to choke out around my fingers.

Mercy was my target. Mercy was the one who’d attempted to
kill Sykes. Mercy had to die. I had to take her photo, scratch her out and
deliver it to...

“Please,” she whispered. “Let me explain.”

“I know everything about you Alison Crawford. There's no
explaining anything.”
She played you, X. She played the master. She made a
fool out of you
.

Mercy squirmed in my grasp, tears welling in her eyes. She
had no stomach for violence. Not the dark kind - the kind that took you to the
edge and pushed you into the abyss. The kind of violence that turned a human
being into a killer. That was why she couldn’t pull the trigger on Sykes. She
wasn’t a murderer. That was my job.

I pressed the barrel of the gun underneath her chin, pushing
it into the soft spot just above her throat. Tears streamed down her face,
dripping onto her chest. Crying. The women always cried. Her lips quivered as
her eyes silently pleaded with me.

I could just pull the trigger and
bam
. Her face would
be gone.

Sick son of a bitch.

“X,” she choked out. “Help me.”

I cocked my head to the side.

“He took everything from me,” she went on. “He killed my
entire family.”

“You want help from me?” I scoffed. “If they'd have asked, I
would've killed them too.”

Mercy let out a strangled sob. “I know something is in
there, X. I've seen it. I've seen it when I'm with you. When you fuck me. When
you're inside me. I've seen it.” Her gaze met mine defiantly, despite the fear
that shook her entire body. “Help me. Help me end Sykes.”

It might’ve been desperation, or it might’ve been something
else, but she leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine. My cock stirred
as the tip of her tongue caressed my bottom lip, but it wasn’t the only thing.
Darkness. She was darkness.

I jerked backward, breaking contact and clutching my head,
the gun feeling heavy in my hand.

“X...”

Snapping to attention, I pulled the tranquilizer out of my
jacket pocket and shoved Mercy against the wall again. Her lips parted in a
gasp as the air was pushed from her lungs and I struck. The needle pierced her
skin and she cried out, batting her hands against my chest.

As the drug took hold, her movements became clumsy, her eyes
glazing over.

“No,” she slurred, trying to push me away. “No, you
can't...X...”

As her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body
crumpled, I caught her in my arms, lowering her to the floor.

What are you doing X? She won't feel anything now. End her.
She's your ticket to freedom.

Kill her
.

I straddled her comatose body as she lay on the floor,
placing the gun on the bed. She really was a beautiful woman. A beautiful,
venomous,
snake
. She’d lost a great deal of weight, her slimness
bordering on unhealthy, but that was most likely due to the stress of her
family’s murder, her attempted hit on Sykes and the subsequent months of trying
to lay low.