Mercy (5 page)

He was prepared and she was ready. She turned to tell him so, to whisper the words against his lips, but he moved his head and her kiss landed on his cheek. His body froze.

“Jarrett?”

The silence stretched. When he did speak, the words came out as a husky growl. “Turn over.”

The rough order didn’t match his caresses. “What?”

“Now.” With the corner of the wrapper in his mouth, the rip sounded all around her.

Before she could adjust or analyze the changes in him from the sharp crack of his voice to the angry stiffness across his shoulders, his hands went to her hips and he flipped her to her stomach. Her palms flattened against the mattress as the breath stammered out of her.

With jerky movements, he lifted her legs and put her on her knees. When she tried to push up with her elbows, his hand clamped around her neck, not tight but with enough force to hold her still.

“Like this.” His hand went to the space between her shoulder blades, pressing her upper body against the bed as her ass hung in the air.

Then his cock pressed against her entrance. He rubbed it over her, just inside of her.

She didn’t know what he wanted her to say, if he wanted her to say anything. Gone were the sensual touches and nip of his teeth. This was about power and command.

He loved the rawness of this position. Months ago he’d bend her over a chair or have her drop her hands to the bed while he stepped up behind her. But this felt different. It
was
different.

The few words she could manage died on her lips when he shoved her legs farther apart. The move left her open, totally at the mercy of his thrusts.

And he didn’t hold back. He plunged inside her in a long, steady push, before retreating then starting again. Her nerves tingled as her body adjusted to his girth. She’d just regained her equilibrium when he began pumping into her and she lost it again. The steady rhythm pounded her into the mattress. Her body slid across the comforter as she turned her head to the side and gasped in a rush of air.

She wanted to hate him for using her body, for turning their sex into nothing more than a release mixed with a power play. But the heat of his body over hers and the clench of his hands against her bare hips touched off something base and wild in her.

She wanted this, wanted him. She came to this place knowing they would have sex and secretly waiting for the moment to arrive. Raunchy, hot, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t forcing her. He was separating his emotions from his body and she envied that skill.

She closed her mind to what used to be and settled for the sensations of now.

Fire burned through her nerve endings as his body rubbed and pressed against hers, steady and deep. Every muscle inside her pulled tight. The spinning sensation took over. Blood pounded in her ears as her brain shut down. The need to explode, to find release and let her body break into pieces, raced through her.

Her hands curled into the comforter. Their bodies turned slick with sweat as his cock plunged into her and the soft knock of the headboard against the wall filled the air. Rather than move away, she pushed back into him. The need to beg, with the words sitting right there on her tongue, had her biting the inside of her cheek.

She clamped down on every sensation except the rough feel of his body sliding in and out of hers. The act. The grind.

When his thrusts sped up, she sat back even harder, bringing her ass tighter against him. His response came in his deep grunt and the firm stroke of his cock inside her. The press matched the thunder of blood through her veins. Everything began to spin as her head pressed against the pillow next to her hand.

She was just about to shout for him to go faster when her orgasm slammed into her. The churning broke free and her muscles clenched. Her body began to buck as he pressed deep one last time.

Her eyes slid closed as the sensations pounded through her. She could feel him above her, around her. It wasn’t until his orgasm ended and the thrusts died down that the full force of his actions hit her. He turned her away and denied her his mouth and the joy of seeing that sexy look on his face. She’d always treasured that moment when he lost control, but all that was denied to her this time.

She became just another body to him and he made sure that’s all she amounted to.

Her mind spun as all the thoughts she held back during sex bombarded her now. The emotional wall between them hadn’t cracked at all. The sex was hot and spontaneous, echoing back to their daily lovemaking sessions, but this time wasn’t about lovemaking. It was sex. Hot sex, but just that.

After a few seconds, he rolled off of her and onto his back. One arm crossed over his eyes and a hand rested on his chest.

She faced him, watching the practiced detachment and wanting to reach out and touch his shoulder. To explain what happened months ago and plead her case. If he’d shown any interest in anything more than keeping her naked and primed for his use, she might have.

He half lifted the arm from his eyes and pinned her with a one-eyed gaze. “Now tell me why you’re really here.”

SIX

Wade slid his security card through the reader and heard the lock to his second-floor industrial loft apartment click. He had about an hour before the staff started assembling downstairs, looking for final directions for the evening shift. But his phone would keep buzzing all night if he didn’t make this side trip upstairs. Personal errands weren’t his thing, but nothing about his life could be considered normal right now.

He opened the door and blinked when the combination of a lean but lethal build and the barrel of a gun blocked the view of the wide-open space inside. It looked as if their upstairs guest was just as pissed off as Wade predicted he’d be.

Elijah Sterling didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.

The weapon stayed steady on Wade as he followed the muscled line of the arm holding it. He took in the slim-fitting gray tee and straight coal-black hair Elijah inherited from his Japanese mother. The scar trailing along his jawline and severe frown promised he wouldn’t think twice about firing if needed. Wade really hoped it didn’t come to that.

He put his hand on Elijah’s wrist and pushed on his arm until the weapon aimed at the wall instead of vital body parts. “Lower that.”‘

Elijah’s chest rose and fell on harsh breaths. “I thought you might be her.”

“Becca?”

“Is another one of my former Spectrum team here?” He had worked himself into a killing state.

Wade had seen the look before. The crazed wide eyes. The erratic breathing and tremble that suggested he balanced right on the edge. “I think they’re all dead except for you two and Todd, though I can see you might not find that comforting.”

The last time Wade had seen Elijah this frantic and out of it was the night he landed on the Holton Woods doorstep, bleeding and ranting, half unconscious but still spouting nonsense about cover-ups and death squads. After everything he’d done to fuck up Jarrett’s life, Elijah should have hit the road and kept running. But he’d been dumped in the alley next to the club, likely to set Jarrett up for a murder, and it almost succeeded since Elijah was half delirious and hovered near death. When he finally stammered out that he had information Jarrett needed, he got a ticket inside.

Wade never thought Elijah would survive that night, but he had. After a few days in lockdown, he’d made promises and offered a deal—he’d hand over certain documents and connect a few dots to take the heat out of the continuing threats from the CIA. In return, Jarrett gave Elijah a place to hide and medical care. He didn’t need focus or a purpose. He had one—revenge for the termination of his team.

And Becca was one of his targets.

Which led them right back around to the one woman who seemed to ruin everything simply by existing. Wade wished Jarrett would see her destructive force before it knocked him down a second time.

Wade threw his keys and everything else in his hand on the small glass table next to the front door. “She can’t come on this floor without a security card or alarm code. She doesn’t have either and she thinks you’re dead.”

Elijah glanced at the keys before looking at Wade again. Those near-black eyes sparked with fire as Elijah spoke. “But she’ll get the codes and go searching. It’s part of who she is.”

“Who you both are.”

“Yes, it comes with the training. If you survive it, you’re forever changed and ready to hunt down clues and information, no matter the trouble you cause.”

Wade wondered if Elijah was describing his own obsession or guessing at hers. “I’m going to hope you’re wrong about that.”

With the cavernous open room right there, Elijah paced the few feet of concrete directly in front of Wade. Back and forth, with his black sneakers making only a whisper of sound against the floor.

Wade was about to ask for some breathing room when Elijah came to a halt in front of him. “Where is she right now?”

“With Jarrett, and that should stop this conversation.” Wade shifted to pivot around Elijah and head for the kitchen.

Elijah caught his arm. “Fuck that.”

This rage had the potential to blow loud and huge. Eli and Jarrett, two men who demanded control and absolute obedience locked in a power play. Wade couldn’t think of a worse scenario. “Jarrett is in charge and decides who comes inside his building, from the clients to the staff to the visitors. That includes you, so I wouldn’t push him.”

“She’s different.” The gun stayed in Elijah’s hand even though it now pointed at the floor.

“Yeah, well, we don’t get a say in who he screws or if he lets her back in his life.”

A red fury covered Elijah’s face. “Becca Ford destroys everything.” The words ripped out of him as if he struggled not to scream his insight.

And Wade couldn’t disagree with either the fury or the words. “That’s what history suggests, yes.”

“Why are you so calm about this? You don’t want her here either.” Elijah was waving the gun now.

Gone was the steady black-ops genius who broke in the club door with his team eight months ago and started Jarrett’s legal nightmares. This Elijah had been hunted and beaten by the very people he once trusted. He had nothing left to lose. With his training and emotional blankness, he could only be described as scary dangerous.

Wade didn’t want to fire the guy up any more, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled with Jarrett’s decision-making today either. His boss’s usually firm grip on control slipped when Becca’s face popped up on the security cameras. After nearly ten years as Jarrett’s sidekick, Wade could count the number of times something shook Jarrett’s resolve. All but one grew out of his relationship with Becca.

Wade wanted her gone. “She fucks with Jarrett’s head. So, no, I don’t want her here. He has an almost inexplicable weakness for her and—”

“She will get me killed.”

“Then I guess it’s good people think you’re already dead.”

Elijah spun around. The gun arced through the air as if it were part of his body now. “You think this situation is fucking funny?”

“Not even a little,” Wade said. The only thing less funny would be getting shot at the front door to his own damn apartment. He left those days when he threw in with Jarrett.

“Now, step back.” Wade was prepared to use the weapon tucked into his belt to make the point if he had to and started a mental countdown.

After a heartbeat of silence, punctuated only by Elijah’s sharp breathing, he turned around and headed for the family room. The gun clinked against the coffee table as Elijah set it down. He sat down hard in the middle of the sleek gray sectional a second later.

For one brief beat, the mask fell and Wade got a peek at the rolling panic underneath. A dark shadow moved behind Elijah’s eyes and his throat bobbled. For a guy who never flinched, any sign of worry signaled a catastrophe, and this went well beyond worry.

As it always did when Elijah exposed a glimpse into the real man underneath, Wade’s control broke. “Eli—”

His head dropped back against the cushions. “This is unbe-lievable.”

The whisper broke through the last of the tension whipping around Wade. “Hey, listen to me. It’s going to be okay.”

“Why is she here?” Elijah lifted his head. His eyes darkened as he let out a long exhale. “She should be running or in CIA custody. Anywhere except in the place where this whole shitstorm started. I’m here, in part, because of her. To figure out her role in all of this and make it all stop.”

With the emotional surge over, Wade shut the door to the private floor and walked over to the couch. “I don’t know what’s going on with her.”

“You had to overhear something.”

Not enough, which was why he made the call to the one other person Jarrett would listen to and could not ignore. The other person Jarrett considered a friend. Wade knew he needed reinforcements to convince the boss on this one and didn’t hesitate.

“Jarrett rushed her into his office and kicked me out.” Wade said as he sat down next to Elijah. Not across from him or in another chair. Next to, close enough to feel the furious heat radiate off the other man’s body.

“I watched it all on the internal security feed. They came out of his office and he took her upstairs.” Elijah wiped a hand down his face. “Paraded her through the halls naked.”

Wade swore under his breath. So much for all those calls for revenge and promises to destroy her if she ever walked across the D.C. border again. In those early days after the arrest and as the scandal hit the papers, Jarrett had lived for the scenarios he created to go after her. Now, within ten minutes of seeing her, he already had it bad for the woman again.

“Not his most subtle move, but probably not a surprise.” Wade shifted and turned until he faced Elijah with their knees touching. “I told you, when it comes to her, Jarrett thinks with his dick.”

“Jarrett Holt, one of the few men
I
view as dangerous, and I’m a trained killer.” Elijah touched a hand to his chest. “This guy has a brain misfire over pussy?”

Wade winced over the new round of fury rising in Elijah’s voice. “You might not want to say it that way to him.”

“Fucking women.”

Wade barked out a laugh. “Don’t ask me. They’re not my thing.”

He balanced his elbows on his knees and stared at the thick black rug in the center of the room under his feet. He tried to reason this through, figure out the right words to say to Jarrett to get him to give Becca some money and send her away. The public viewed Jarrett as ruthless and cold, until someone wanted something, then all of a sudden he was the only man in town worth talking to. But Wade knew better. Jarrett rose from a pile of crap and created something. Then Becca broke him.

The arguments stopped screaming in Wade’s head long enough for him to notice the dragging quiet. He glanced up and caught Elijah staring. The heated anger had left his face and his gaze roamed now.

His fists unclenched and he spread his fingers on the thighs of his khaki cargo pants. “What is your thing, Wade?”

The change in the mood, the new type of tension swirling in the room, had Wade’s mouth going dry. “I think you know.”

“I know what worked for you last night. How you begged for my mouth as you grabbed the headboard.”

Images flashed in his head. Elijah between his legs, sucking as he worked a hand up and down on his cock. Wade had to swallow twice to get the words out. “The club opens soon.”

Elijah sat up, shifting to the front of the cushion and dipping his head until only inches separated them. “You saying no?”

Looked like Jarrett wasn’t the only one having trouble hanging on to an ounce of control. Wade wondered if the weakness for sex was contagious. Something circulating through the building’s air vents. “Have I said no since you got here?”

A small smile played on the corner of Elijah’s mouth. “Not once.”

“Then you have my answer.”

He pointed at the carpet. “Get on your knees.”

Wade wanted to say no this time. Wanted to keep the conversation, the pent-up anger, aimed at Becca and exhaust it so Eli could move on. Wanted to but failed when Elijah reached over and cupped his hand over the zipper of Wade’s pants.

His cock jumped to life under Eli’s palm. When his fingers traced the length and gave a squeeze, Wade forgot all about the other people in the building.

It had been this way from the beginning. Eli lay in bed for days as he recuperated. His fury against the CIA festered. Wade would visit and stand by the bed and listen, hoping to hear something that would help Jarrett’s case. Then one day Eli’s hand knocked against Wade’s leg. He ignored it, wrote it off as a strange gesture, until the next day when Eli’s palm rested against the outside of Wade’s thigh for more than a passing second.

Every offhanded brush had burned through Wade and shaken his up-until-then solid hatred for Eli, but Wade tried not to let the break in his defenses show. He lasted until the day, a week after those initial stray touches, when Eli stared him down. With their gazes locked, he’d skimmed his fingers over Wade’s fly then caressed the erection he kicked to life underneath.

The first day Eli was well enough to stand and move around without help, he walked across the second-floor hallway and climbed into Wade’s bed. He’d been there every night since.

Sliding off the couch now, Wade’s knees hit the floor. His hands traveled up and down Eli’s firm thighs, outlining every muscle and pressing his legs farther apart to make room between them.

“I need this.” Elijah’s hands were everywhere. Over Wade’s shoulders and chest, curling down until they stopped at the button to his pants. “I need you.”

Wade knew. He felt it in the steady thrum of excitement moving through Eli’s muscles and in the way his stare turned hot. The readiness touched off Wade’s.

“Let me take away some of that stress,” he said as he cupped the bulge tightening the material behind Eli’s zipper.

Wade closed his eyes as Eli tunneled fingers through his hair. “Damn, I always want you,” Eli said.

The words chipped away at the walls Wade built as protection against caring too much. The fevered words, the quiet way Eli would run his fingers over Wade’s cheek and across his collarbone in the dark of the bedroom and long after they’d gone to bed. It all combined to mean something. More than once Wade had pretended to be asleep to savor the touches.

“That’s how I want you—wound up and ready.” Wade popped the button on Eli’s pants. “Now you tell me what you want.”

Eli slid a hand under Wade’s chin and lifted his head until they stared at each other. “Your mouth. On me, over me.”

“I’m going to suck you off.”

“Yes.” The word came out on a groan as Eli pushed Wade’s head down.

Wade traced Elijah’s cock through his pants, felt the ridge and saw the distinct outline. He rubbed his hand over it, squeezed and tightened his grip until Elijah shifted his hips forward. The zipper ticked as Wade slowly lowered it, unveiling inch after inch of Elijah’s impressive cock where it pressed against his underwear.

From the first time together, they’d established a pattern. Elijah led but Wade set the rhythm. He decided if they went slow or fast. When they used their mouths and how Eli entered him.