Mercy (15 page)

“He has a sister?” Becca barely thought of him as human.

“Half, but he doesn’t make the distinction.” Jarrett balanced an arm along the back of the couch. “Did you miss the fact she’s something like twenty-two or twenty-three? A tad young for me, don’t you think.”

Oh, please
. “Right, because no old dude in D.C. has a hot, much younger second or third wife.”

“You’re calling me old?”

“Older.” At almost thirty-five he was mature and hot and the perfect age for anything.

“I can accept that description.” He cleared his throat. “I guess.”

“In my defense, I thought all guys liked the young-and-firm sort of thing.”

“That part is worth something, yes. But my feelings in this case, for her, are purely brotherly.”

The idea of him thinking in family terms had Becca reeling. “Is she okay?”

“Her name is Kyra and she wants a job.” He sounded confused by the idea. “Apparently she doesn’t care if I give her one and Wade then kills me.”

After fueling her anger with each passing minute while he was gone, Becca found her first laugh. “I’m guessing he’s overprotective.”

“Understatement.” Jarrett sighed. “He’d go batshit crazy if I hired her and put her in the path of some of the idiots who have a membership here.”

Becca tried to imagine what the men downstairs would do to a nice young woman. They’d make promises and show off their wealth and power. A potentially pretty ugly scene actually. “But he could watch over her here.”

“Kyra tried that argument. The answer is still no.”

“That explains why the meeting with her was so quick. I didn’t think you’d . . . well, you get the idea.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment on my advanced foreplay skills.”

One more second on that topic and Becca would have him on the floor again. “Okay, I need to take that shower.”

She had to leave before the two remaining buttons on her shirt gave up the battle. He’d been inside her at least twice per day since she arrived. He’d leave her bed right after sex each night—and she hated reaching out and feeling the cool sheets—but she couldn’t argue about performance.

“For the record.” His voice stopped her. “I don’t have a problem with prostitution.”

She took her time turning around to face him. She kept the edges of her shirt wadded in a ball in her fist. “I’m thinking most men feel that way.”

“I’m saying I don’t care if a woman wants to charge to have sex. That’s her business. Her body, her decision.” He stood up and moved to stand in front of her. “I’d want her to be safe, of course, but if she does it to survive or for fun—that’s not my place to judge.”

The comment, offered without any judgment, didn’t fit with what she knew or anything he’d said before. “But your mother—”

The amusement left his face. “She had sex for money, for food and one time for a television.”

“Which is why you call her a whore.” The logic had Becca confused. For some women it was fine, for others not?

Jarrett wasn’t perfect, but he usually thrived on consistency. It was the one thing she depended on, which was why finding the evidence that supported the dealing had slammed into her so hard.

“I call her that because she sold her body, not to feed her kids, but to raise money for drugs.” He cleared his throat when his voice began to fade. “That’s what I object to.”

No . . . but that didn’t make sense. How could she not know this? “Your mother took drugs?”

His gaze bore into her. “Meth addict.”

“I don’t get it.” How could such a huge piece of intel slip by her. It was as if someone purposely deleted it.

He studied her through narrowed eyes. “Clearly this is new information for you.”

“Of course it is.” It explained so much about the type of guy he was, controlled and serious. About the dangerous life he led before the club. More than likely, he’d never known much in the way of security or stability.

“If you say so.”

The energy rushed out of Becca, deflating her heart and everything else inside her like a balloon. “Is that what she died from?”

“She died when she got high and ran a car into oncoming traffic.”

Becca reached out and put a hand on his arm, anything to reassure him that she was there. “Jarrett, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Not even hinted at in my file, huh?”

“No.” And she wanted to know why.

He covered her hand with his. “Don’t weep for my mother. Weep for my baby brother who had the great misfortune to be in the backseat and die with her.”

The fact walloped Becca. She leaned into him. “I had no idea. You never told me.”

“I never talk about it.”

“How old were you?”

His fingers tightened around hers. “Eight.”

She doubted he knew about the signals his body sent out. The pain on his face, the tension in his arms. Her heart ached for the little boy who lost so much. The hollow rumbling sat there, digging deeper and sucking away the small bit of life she had left. “It’s all so horrible.”

“And, Becca.” His arm dropped and he stepped back. “That is why I can promise you I have never touched drugs.”

SIXT
E
EN

This was an epically bad idea. Jarrett knew it. Common sense sent up a warning flare. A headache pounded beneath his temples. Hell, Bast even put on his lawyer hat and counseled against it.

Natalie had issued a three-day warning and time was ticking down. Not that Jarrett planned to do anything other than let her deadline pass. Well, not quite. Her little test pissed him off, mostly because it had him weighing his options. He could initiate the emergency parachute Bast created and hand over the information he’d held back the first time he made a deal with the CIA. He viewed the material as his protection, but it could protect Becca instead. Unless Bast killed him for even suggesting the move.

But Jarrett ignored all of that and focused on the one issue that still shocked him. Yesterday he broke his cardinal rule and told Becca the truth about his mother. Not small pieces about how she’d have sex with men right across the room from where he sat reading the book he stole from the school library. Not about how she’d eat the last hot dog and throw a few chips on the table for him and Jacob. Nope, he’d jumped right to the biggie. Mother as killer.

The only thing that saved his pride was the way she handled it. She nodded, thanked him for telling her and skipped right to a conversation about what he should grab from the kitchen and his chef for her dinner. No wallowing in pity here.

Her reaction was a relief but shouldn’t have been a surprise. Like far too many people, she possessed an intimate knowledge of family dysfunction. Still, if he’d seen one peek of sadness or pity in those eyes, he’d still be in his office downstairs. The exact opposite happened. By the time he came upstairs last night after breaking up a fight between two members and a long night on the club floor, he was so hot for her that he almost ran from the front door to her bed.

He settled for waking her up with a sprinkling of kisses down her spine and over her ass. Dragging her to her hands and knees. Then he took her the way he wanted to her first night back.

Round one started at four in the morning and he’d have that movie playing in his head for days. But now he had something a bit less fun to handle. Something that required clothes and a huge dose of idiocy on his part.

He walked into the guest bedroom and glanced around. Empty. Huh, hard to make a big gesture when no one was around to see it. “Becca?”

The bathroom door opened and steam poured out. The scent of vanilla filtered into the room as she stepped out in the middle of wrapping a giant white towel around her athletic frame. Didn’t bother to hurry either. Nope. She shot him a sexy smile as she brought the towel edges to a close by slow inches, leaving him a nice long time to gawk.

And he did.

“You sure you need the towel?”

She had the damn thing knotted between her breasts already but her fingers still hovered there. “I can be talked out of it.”

All he needed was one word from her, one stray look, and he had to fight the urge to claw his clothes off. “What would that take exactly?”

“Well.” She drawled the word out as her head fell to the side and her hair streamed over her bare shoulder. “It’s been a long time since you pinned me down.”

His temperature spiked and his cock twitched, which he guessed was her goal. “On the bed . . . yeah, I remember.”

The memories rushed back at him. She liked being tied up. Not hit or hurt, which was good because that wasn’t his thing at all, but restrained while he sucked and licked and rubbed her to breathless orgasm. And when she came it overtook her hard and fast.

Holy fuck, she could set him off.

“When you stretch my arms above my head and trap them there.” She fiddled with the towel’s knot as she trailed one foot up the inside of her other calf.

Damn her timing
. “Remember that—every last second of it—because it’s happening pretty fucking soon.”

She smiled. “But not now?”

“You have an appointment.”

Her mouth flattened. “What?”

In two seconds he’d be on top of her, using his tie to bind her to the headboard. Then they wouldn’t be going anywhere for hours. Tempting, but not going to happen.

He held out the stack in his hands. “You’ll need these.”

“And that is?”

“Your clothes.” Cargo pants and a blank tank. He’d included underwear, not because he wanted her wearing it but because she should be comfortable during the half hour he’d let her stay dressed. Then he’d clear his afternoon schedule and devote every ounce of his strength to stretching her out on that mattress.

She didn’t move. Didn’t reach out. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“You have a meeting with Bast.”

Her face blanched as white as the towel. “Are you kidding?”

The reaction took him off guard. Shook his confidence, which was not easy to do.

He wasn’t sure what spun around in that head, but something did. “Do you know me to have a sense of humor?”

“Yes, actually. Warped, but it’s there.”

He laughed because it was either that or choke on the thick flow of tension pouring through the room. “Thanks.”

She wiped a hand over the damp ends of her long hair. “Jarrett, don’t play about this. It’s too important.”

The pleading in her eyes sobered him. “I asked Bast to come over. He’s waiting for you in the second-floor conference room.”

“He knows I’m here? You promised—”

“Stop.” Energy pounded off of her. Jarrett could tell she was winding up, and he wanted to tamp right down on that.

“You could get me killed.” She still hadn’t left the doorway.

“I trust Bast.”

“Why should I?”

“Because he got my ass out of jail and has kept it that way.” Jarrett didn’t understand why they were still discussing this. “Look, you wanted to meet him. I’m making it happen. I don’t see the problem here.”

“On my terms.” She shook her head. “I thought we’d discuss how and what we told him. Maybe meet elsewhere so he didn’t know I was staying here.”

The woman had to control everything. He assumed that stemmed from her training, but right now it was pissing him off. “He’s known since day one. Just like Wade.”

She sighed. “That’s just fantastic.”

“My point is, if he wanted to turn you in or kill you or whatever you’re worried about, it would have happened.” Jarrett dumped the stack of clothing on the edge of the bed. “So, this is your one shot. My terms. My ground rules. My building. Yes or no?”

She swiped a flimsy white bra off the top of the pile. “You know the answer is yes.”

“Then stop fighting me and get dressed.”

•   •   •

“We’re in lockdown. He actually banned me from leaving this condo. What the fuck is that about?” Elijah repeated Jarrett’s order as he paced back and forth. Another few minutes and there would be a groove behind the desk chair in Wade’s office area.

Even though he tried, Wade couldn’t ignore his temporary bedmate. Probably had something to do with the clomp of his sneakered feet against the floor. Or the constant mumbling under his breath.

The steady stream of bitching was getting pretty damn old. In the past if someone acted like this around him, Wade would have taken him out. A punch, maybe use a knife, or when things got bad and a situation hit kill-or-be-killed status, Wade didn’t hesitate to make sure he was the last guy standing.

Life had calmed down and now most of his frustration came from dealing with idiot club members. Having stupid shit seep into his home pissed him off.

But this was Eli and for some reason this man crept under Wade’s defenses. To keep from blowing up or leading them square into a fight he didn’t want, Wade blocked out the man behind him, broad shoulders, hot face and all.

“Are you ignoring me?” Elijah asked the question from right behind and above Wade. Put his hands on the back of the desk chair and leaned it back. “’Cause I hate that shit.”

Never mind that made two of them. Wade concentrated on not landing on the floor. He flattened his feet against the hardwood and started a mental countdown to keep his fury from rising to Eli’s level. “Jarrett doesn’t want Becca to see you.”

“The best way to do that is to kick her the hell out.”

Wade gave up trying to review the staffing schedules on his computer. He couldn’t concentrate or see anything but black line blurs anyway.

“We’ve been through this.” He shoved the chair back, forcing Elijah to take a step. When Wade spun the chair around, their knees knocked together thanks to the sudden closeness. “It’s not going to happen.”

“Then there’s the part where she gets access to Sebastian Jameson.” Elijah rubbed a hand over his face as he resumed the annoying pacing. “Must be nice.”

Wade understood the frustration. Being held hostage in the condo ticked him off, too. But he knew he was only confined to make sure Elijah stayed that way. The fact lessened the force of the blow, but only a little.

Reality was, fighting with Jarrett on this issue—on any issue relating to Becca—led nowhere. The man had more than a soft spot. He had a hole a mile wide and Becca kept slipping in there, making herself at home, and otherwise screwing up everything.

But she wasn’t totally the cause of the current mess. “You made it clear no one could know you were here.”

“You think she didn’t lay down the same rules while she was sucking his cock?”

The angrier Eli got, the more he targeted Becca with his viciousness. Wade didn’t blame him, but Eli being all fired up and yelling made for a long afternoon and evening.

“I get that you’re pissed.”

Elijah stopped walking and spun around. The anger in his voice hadn’t made it to his face. The frown looked more like confusion and fury. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say.”

“It’s not exactly easy to talk with you. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the tiptoe type.” Wade shook his head. If the guys in the old neighborhood could see him now.

“It’s hard to imagine you doing that, not that I want you to.”

Wade looked at the man who had come to mean too much and tried to believe where life had taken him. More than once he’d wondered how a gay man would have fared with the group of bruisers he used to run with. If they’d found out, he’d probably be dead right now. If not at the hands of their misplaced disgust, then by a bullet marked for his brain. Prison and coroner—those were the two long-term life options where he grew up.

“You know what it’s like to live with you?” he asked.

“I’m not sure I want to hear this.”

“Tough shit because I’m saying it.” The burning frustration that ate away at his gut sparked until all Wade could see was flames. “Most of the time you’re either up here buried in your notes and files or you’re pissing about Jarrett’s love life. It’s pretty fucking exhausting.”

“That’s not all I do.” Elijah wasn’t frowning now.

Oh, yeah. That smile meant trouble. The good kind, but also the end to any intelligent conversation. Wade tried to figure out if he cared about that right now. “You know what I mean.”

“Am I not showing you enough attention?” Elijah crouched down until they met at eye level. “Because I can fix that.”

“Fuck you.”

“Happily.”

“I’m not talking about sex.” But, man, that was the one time they communicated just fine. The heat, the touch of Eli’s hands over his skin . . .

“I kind of wish you would.” Elijah slid to his knees as his palms traveled up Wade’s thighs then down to his knees and back up again. “It would be nice if we were on the same wavelength here.”

Hell, yeah, they were
. “I was trying to make a point.”

“Spell it out for me.” Elijah dipped his head and kissed his way up the inside of Wade’s jeans.

“You can be a total shit.” But not now. He was doing fine right where he was.

“I know.”

The heated friction of hands and mouth had Wade squirming in his chair. He had to blink a few times to restart his brain and keep up with the conversation. He’d been trying to make a point about something. “Most of the time you’re a pain in the ass.”

“That’s not news. I warned you about that before I crawled into bed with you that first time.” Elijah’s hands slid under Wade’s ass and pulled his hips forward. “Remember that?”

The entire night was imprinted on his brain. Wade could see the shadow at the door and replay the mental debate if he should gave in and take what he wanted, which he had two seconds later. “Of course.”

“You sure? I’d be happy to give you a reminder.” Elijah’s fingers went to Wade’s belt. He tugged, then slid it open, letting the ends fall as he turned to the zipper. “How I slid the sheet off you and crawled between your thighs.”

As his muscles turned to jelly, Wade grabbed the armrests to keep from sliding to the floor. “I remember setting a record for waking up.”

“You didn’t think I’d make the first move.” He tugged the zipper down and opened the fly.

“I knew you’d slept with women and men and figured I was convenient.”

Elijah laughed. “You are
not
that.”

Unable to hold back, Wade speared his fingers through Eli’s hair. The strands tickled his palm. “Meaning?”

Elijah’s hands slipped into Wade’s jeans and worked them down, taking the boxer briefs with them. “I didn’t expect you.”

His bare ass hit the cool leather. Whatever comment he might have made next died on his lips when Elijah lowered his head.

Elijah didn’t stop. His mouth covered Wade’s cock, drawing it in as his hand slid to the base. He licked across the tip then sucked on his balls. By the time he took Wade deep to the back of his throat, Wade’s hips were lifting off the chair.

“What did you . . .” Wade swore as his head fell back.

“I love sucking you off. Watching your face.” Elijah lifted his head and smiled at Wade. “Should I do it now? Make you come and then lick it off of you?”

“God, yes.”

“I’m not going to stop.” Elijah tightened his hand and slipped it up and down. His mouth followed his fingers and the constant touching and caressing didn’t let up.

Wade could only force out a breathy exhale. “Don’t.”

The churning inside him built and thrashed. He tipped Eli’s head to the side to watch his checks puff in and out as he sucked his cock in deep. A hand slid around and under Wade, finding his ass and slipping the tip of his finger inside. He lifted, giving Eli room and silently letting him know he could do whatever he wanted.