Mercy (2 page)

She stepped out of them as soon as they hit the floor, but refused to cower. He’d seen it all before and was just testing her now. She needed to live through this to have a chance.

She lifted her head and met his glare with one of her own. “Satisfied?”

“Come here.”

After all the terror of the adrenaline-pounding last twenty-four hours, she didn’t think she’d find more fear. She’d tucked it all away in that dark corner of her brain, but it raged now, wild and out of control.

Her bare feet slapped against the floor while she closed the short space separating them. His muscles stretched as he stood up and shifted to the side.

“Put your hands on the desk,” he said.

Her heartbeat hammered through every bone, every cell, making her dizzy. With her body shaking, she rested her palms flat against the desk and bent over. She pressed her arms tight against her sides and locked her elbows in a vain attempt to cover a portion of her C-cup breasts, but her ass was in the air.

When he stepped behind her, she braced for anything. He’d never hit her, but that was before she’d brought law enforcement down on his head. No matter what he had done, he would see that as the ultimate betrayal.

Her stomach leapt the second before he touched her. Even in her confused haze, she sensed it coming, wanting it and denying it. Firm hands pressed against her skin, low on her thighs. She expected the grip of his fingers to mirror the thread of anger in his voice. Instead, his fingertips brushed and caressed as they moved up.

The rhythmic sound of his breathing fell around her. When his hands reached her ass and his fingers danced along the seam, her knees buckled. But he was there. He brought his body in closer, wedging her between the desk in front and his firm thighs behind.

One finger slid down the crease between her cheeks and kept going until it rolled around her clit. Then it slipped deep inside her. Uncontrollable shivers had her arms bending. She wanted to believe the emotions battering her from every direction stemmed from adrenaline and the will to survive, but she honestly didn’t know.

“You’re wet.” A tremor played in his voice this time.

She nodded because she didn’t think she could form words. While one hand covered her, with his middle finger now plunging in and out, the other went to her head and tugged on the ponytail holder. It fell to the floor as her long hair cascaded over her shoulders and across the tips of her breasts.

“Tell me what you need, Rebecca.”

The word “you” was right there on her next breath, but she bit it back. Letting him use her body would tear at her soul and further mix the black-and-white layers of her life until all she saw was gray.

But she’d forfeit that piece of her if it meant survival.

It was the desperate wanting she feared. Giving in to the side of her that waited in the darkness, craving what he could give her, had the potential to irrevocably shatter something inside her. He could take so much that there wouldn’t be anything left, so she had to separate and watch from outside with a forced detachment.

He was a criminal. She repeated the mantra until it beat in time with the movement of his fingers. But even as the letters flashed in her brain, she wondered what the word truly meant. The people she worked for and trusted had tried to kill her, so she couldn’t tag them as the good guys while saddling Jarrett with the enemy title.

As common sense waged a battle inside her, she inhaled a deep breath, ignoring the rough sound, and focused on saying the words. “Help. I need your help.”

“To come?”

“Jarrett . . .” Her voice trailed off before she could beg since she had no idea what she would ask for. Thoughts and warnings bombarded her brain.

“Say it.”

She shook her head. “To survive.”

“Meaning?”

“There are people who want me dead.”

His fingers stilled for a second then pressed inside her again before he pulled in closer and rubbed his rising cock against her through his pants. “That’s the inevitable end of your job.”

“People I trusted are after me this time.”

“Interesting.” He grunted in what could only be described as a male version of
I told you so
. “So, now you need me.”

“Yes.”

“You know what I’ll demand in return.”

Her eyes closed. The feel of his body over hers, of his hands caressing her until her speech stumbled . . . She wondered if she’d be safer on the streets, away from him and the spell he wound around her.

“Rebecca?” His fingertips brushed against the dead center of her back right before his tongue licked the spot. “In return for protection, I get you. All of you, however I want you.”

The last gasp of air hiccupped in her lungs and suddenly she didn’t care if anyone came in or the police burst through the door. “I don’t—”

“If you want my help, I demand the words.”

His lips skimmed up her spine and the last of her defenses crumbled. “I’m yours.”

TWO

The words rang in Jarrett’s ears. Rebecca had claimed she belonged to him once before. This time she would, but on his terms. She’d be his to conquer. His to use and discard. His to fuck as he pleased, without any regard for what she wanted or needed.

He didn’t even care why she was really here. Her reasons didn’t matter because he would not cede any emotional ground.

But he would touch her, as often as and in any way he wanted. Her body always intrigued him. Long and lean, so sleek and trim. The perfectly round breasts at least a size larger than should be natural for her frame. When they first met she tried to hide them by smashing them under stiff exercise bras. He bought her lacy feminine ones and felt a surge of satisfaction when she smiled over them.

He generally didn’t care what a woman wore, but he realized he preferred her straight brown hair falling over her shoulders like it was now. The same hair she liked to wrap around his cock as she used her hand to get him off. Add in those intelligent moss-green eyes and it was a wonder he ever let her climb out of bed.

He skimmed his fingers over the smooth skin of her back to that shallow dip right before her ass. He’d kissed that sexy softness so many times, loving how her body shook as he pushed into her from behind. As his fingers slid over her ass cheek now, he was torn between the stark need to fuck her and the urge to spank her. Not a sexy love tap either. A blow intended to bring pain.

He’d never hit a woman in his life, but there was a time when he’d seriously considered killing this one. Trapped in a blanket of red fury, sitting in a jail cell then later waiting out the days for a meaningless trial that never came, Jarrett had dreamed up ways to do it. Spent time imagining his revenge, and only backed off when the dark dreams began to consume every hour.

He refused to give her that much power over him again.

She’d lied and betrayed him. She twisted him up until he lowered his defenses, then she handed him over to the very people who sought to destroy him. Thanks to her, he’d entered into a sick bargain to regain his freedom. One he still regretted.

Every rage-filled second of the last eight months came rushing back to him as her body clenched and soaked his fingers. She spoke of survival like she knew a damn thing about the concept. She believed being used as a pawn long ago in a parental kidnapping scheme gave her the right to separate from society and kill for a living. Oh, she prettied it up with talk of special operations and service to country, but at base she was a hired gun.

Now she’d work for him as a sex toy he’d play with or ignore as he pleased.

Starting right this second.

His palm continued to explore every curve. The more he touched, the more his upper arm shook. It took all of his concentration to keep the tremor from traveling down to his hand. He called up his fury and let it wrap around him as he plunged his fingers in deeper, harder, and tried not to get sucked back into her sensual web.

A shudder ran through her as her arms went slack. It had always been this way. When he didn’t know how to handle her in the past, he’d used her body’s reaction against her. On this level they communicated. Or so he thought right up until her team broke down his club’s front door.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Rebecca?”

Her head fell down between her arms and her hair spread over his paperwork. “Jarrett, please.”

That husky growl. It once lured him to the cusp of doom. “Answer me.”

She stayed silent but her body began to rock against his fingers. She was right on the edge, every line and muscle primed.

“Or maybe I have my answer.”

When a small groan escaped her lips, he shut his eyes and blocked out the delicious sound of capitulation. After a shaky, pained countdown from five, he slipped his fingers out of her. It took him another few seconds to trail his other hand across her ass and finally break all physical contact. Blood pounded in his cock as he clamped his teeth down on the inside of his bottom lip and stepped back.

Her body slumped against the desk as her gaze flew to his. “What are you doing?”

He would not fall for that breathy tone a second time. Would not believe the sensual craving he read in her eyes. She killed for a living and even now could be setting him up for a second round in hell.

She would not know what she cost him.

Calling on his formidable will, he brought the shields crashing down again, careful to drain any show of interest from his face. With a thin-lipped frown back in place and the mental reel of her past treachery playing in his head, his control clicked together like a series of lock tumblers.

“Stand up.”

She blinked several times. “Wha . . . what?”

“You heard me.” He walked around to his desk chair, honing his skills on increasing her shame as he paged through the documents on his desk. The words blurred, but he pretended to read, anything to let her know she meant nothing to him.

“At least let me explain,” she said in a shaky voice.

He glanced at the monitors and saw the clear hallway. “We’re going upstairs.”

She slowly straightened. “Why?”

At full height, her body was on beautiful display. He could see the miles of fair skin and the three-inch scar where a man long dead once sliced a knife between her ribs. There was a time when seeing the visible memory of that near-fatal injury started Jarrett’s heart thundering and made him wish he’d been the one to kill her attacker.

This time Jarrett refused to feel anything. Even as his gaze traveled over the peeks of flesh not shielded by her hair and across those stiff nipples, his cock pressed hard against the back of his zipper. But he fought off every urge.

“Your job is to agree with what I say and right now I say we’re leaving my office.” When she opened her mouth he raised an eyebrow and her words cut off.

With an exaggerated sigh she bent down as if to reach for her panties. “Fine.”

“Leave those on the floor.”

Her body shot up straight again, with those fantastic breasts on full view this time. “I’m naked.”

“No one will even notice.” Her eyes closed and he knew his words stung. He refused to care and silently berated himself for even seeing the flash of pain.

“Can I just—”

“You want another favor already?”

This wouldn’t work if she begged. He would not let her sneak under his defenses and chip away like she had before. He’d altered his life for her once, gave up long-held beliefs and even confided in her like some lovesick pathetic boy. And it had all been a fucking game to her.

The memories ignited his rage all over again.

“Let me wear my shirt.” This time anger spilled into her voice.

That fast, the equilibrium shifted. He could handle her fire, tunnel that straight into the bedroom and use it to fuel their sex without ever letting an ounce of emotion drip in.

“No.” He walked to the door and opened it. Ignoring her stunned expression, he motioned for her to lead. “Now, Rebecca.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she performed a quick visual tour of the room. When she started moving he guessed she didn’t find what she wanted, whatever that was.

“If you plan to kill me, you should do it now.”

That quick, he had his answer. A weapon. She still expected him to cut her down like she deserved. No, he’d decided to play with her instead, at least until he knew her plans this time.

He shook his head. Threw in that condescending
tsk-tsk
ing sound he knew pissed her off. “So dramatic.”

“That happens when your house catches fire and your car gets run off the road.” She stood right in front of him at the edge of the doorway with legs wide and hair streaming down her back.

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” And that wasn’t an exaggeration. He’d never been saddled with society’s notions of right and wrong when it came to killing. Some people deserved to die and he performed a service when he did the dispatching.

Her chin lifted even higher. “Others have tried and failed.”

“I would succeed.” He pointed toward the hall. “Go.”

Her shoulders fell a fraction as she tiptoed the last steps to the doorway and craned her neck to look down the hall. The low rumble of voices echoed from behind the wall separating the office space from the public areas of the club.

She slipped into the hall without looking back and turned to the right. He didn’t rush to take the lead because she knew where to go. The private elevator to the top two floors sat a few feet away. Just long enough for him to watch her graceful walk and see that high, tight ass swish in long steps. They were angry steps. He could tell from the straight backbone and the way her hands balled into fists at her sides.

Naked and seemingly resigned to her nudity, she stopped at the elevator doors, keeping her gaze straight ahead. He could see her swallow and watch her shoulders dip then square again, probably as she fought off the urge to hide her body from him. If he wasn’t so hell-bent on hating her, he’d admire her spirit.

He’d just pressed his palm against the security reader and turned the key he kept on him at all times, when she whispered something. He had to duck, leaning in to hear her. “What did you say?”

“Tell me you’re not behind this.”

He didn’t want the particulars of her life now, but curiosity ate at him. “This?”

The doors opened but she didn’t move. “My team is dead.”

Not news. Up until a month ago he’d tracked her every move. After the charges were dropped, he’d called in favors and used all of his resources to uncover as much information about her undercover team as possible. Knowing what at least two of them looked like made that easier, so did his improper access to top secret files.

Watching her travel and live her life like she’d never fucked up his drove him mad with a mix of rage and unspent sexual frustration, so he’d shifted his focus. He followed every other member of the four-person team, plus its leader. Oh, yes. Todd Rivers couldn’t take a piss without Jarrett knowing. Through a series of questionable accidents and odd crimes, most of the team was dead. Todd was very much alive, but his day would come.

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t weep for the people who planted evidence to have me arrested,” Jarrett said.

She faced him then. Her eyes narrowed as her mouth fell into a grim line. “That’s not true.”

“Lying won’t help your position with me.” He put a hand against her back and ushered her inside.

The mirrors highlighted her bare body from every angle. She appeared too busy staring at him to notice the show she put on. He slid the key into the elevator lock and pressed number three.

She waited until he stood beside her, shoulder pressed to her arm, before talking again. “You’re trying to tell me you were innocent of the charges?”

“I’ve never sold drugs in my life.” That she would think otherwise after their months together pissed him off the most. When the accusations flew, he’d waited for her to step up and deny. Her silence from back then still pounded in his brain. “Not that I could ever figure out why a CIA front group would be involved with domestic drug running.”

“You aren’t supposed to know anything about our group. No one is. Disbanded or not, it’s black-ops and falls squarely in the plausible deniability realm.”

He smiled at her. “Yet, I do know about your now-former team.”

“Then you also should know we weren’t originally here for a drug raid.”

“So, I was being tracked for something else then. Interesting.” But not surprising. He’d always figured he’d collected the wrong bit of information about the right person, and that had put him and the club in the bull’s-eye.

Now he knew the truth. Faked drug charges gave them the in. Becca or someone on her team came up with the idea and ran with it. He’d barely left her side for months, spent his nights kissing her, touching her, fucking her. It’s true the line between right and wrong didn’t exist for him. Nothing was ever that easy. But dealing drugs—hell, even trying them—was not something anyone could honestly lay at his door. He knew too much about where that destructive road led.

She turned to face him. “I saw the drugs, Jarrett.”

Not possible
. The words punched him and he fought off a flinch. Forced his expression to stay blank.

The doors opened straight into a small entry foyer outside his front door, the only one on this floor.

“If that’s true, and I’m not convinced it is, you saw what someone wanted you to see.” He packed away every word she said, every phrase of the conversation for later dissection. “This discussion is over.”

He repeated the security procedures at his door and pushed it open right after the lock cleared. He was halfway into the foyer, his dress shoes clicking against the inlaid marble, when he stopped and glanced around.

She stood in the doorway, not moving. “Elijah is dead.”

Looked like she didn’t know everything after all. “I am aware of his status.”

“And?”

“And what?” Jarrett dropped the keys in his suit jacket pocket.

“Did you kill him?”

Jarrett wondered what it took for her to hold back the question this long. Not that he intended to answer it or prove to her how wrong her assumptions were. “Come inside, Rebecca.”

Still she didn’t move. “I know you hated him.”

“A vast understatement.” When his phone buzzed, Jarrett ignored it. “You, him, everyone who built a phony case against me.”

His phone buzzed a second time, and this round he grabbed it out of his pocket. While he checked the screen, she came inside. He glanced up and watched as her gaze touched every surface and hesitated on the fireplace mantel, where the few photographs he’d ever allowed of them together once rested. Only a clock sat there now.

Her chest expanded as she blew out a long breath and headed to the left. His room.

“Stop,” he called out.

“Why?”

“You’re on the right.”

She glanced in the direction of his bedroom door. “Since when?”

“My bedroom is off-limits to you.”

Her head fell to the side and frustration showed in her expression. “Is this necessary?”