14. Sam #2
I’m running on next to no sleep and a gallon of caffeine, but I get ready for my date with Mercy with meticulous care.
Hair slicked back. Rolex in place. Cologne dabbed on my wrists.
A white button-up I know she likes and a pair of form-fitting jeans that are easy to take off.
If she wants. If she asks. My dick hardens at the thought of her touching me again, and I quickly tent hard enough for my dick imprint to show.
Groaning through my teeth, I try to think of something else.
Anything else. But imagining Mercy’s hands sliding down my chest to grab my cock?—
Fuuuuck.
The gun strapped to my thigh is gonna have to go. My muscles bulge as I remove the holster and toss it onto the bed. I need to keep it on me in case Reaper shows up to collect Mercy’s life early.
Or mine.
It hasn’t slipped my mind that I’m in on this, too, but thankfully, he doesn’t seem too interested in my life.
It’s only Mercy that’s caught his eye. As I grab my swollen dick and beat off, I can’t keep my frustration under wraps.
I picture the two of them together—his mouth on her throat and his hands roaming her body—and I see red.
With a hiss, I slam my fist into the wall and grit my teeth.
I hate picturing the two of them together.
It doesn’t matter that Kane can probably get her off with his pinky finger—I can do better.
I need to prove to her that I can do better.
Squeezing the base of my shaft, I take deep breaths and try to calm down. I won’t waste a load in my fist. I’ll hold it for her. If she wants it. Please let her want it.
My phone chimes, and I quickly pick it up and unlock my screen.
Mercy’s contact photo appears beside the text message icon, and I click the image rather than the text.
I took this picture last year when we were fooling around.
She’s lounging back on her elbows, eyes closed, shirt unbuttoned and her tits perfectly cradled in a black bra. Smiling. For me. Because of me.
I open her message before I can think twice about my no-jerking-off decision.
MERCY
I’m ready
Are you still picking me up?
She’s early. Maybe she’s as eager as I am.
ME
Of course. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
As I’m grabbing my keys, another message pings.
MERCY
You might want to hurry…
Kane just showed up.
I don’t know what he wants.
Shit. Of course he’s going to ruin our date. I shouldn’t have stayed away this long, but I wanted to make sure that I had enough information against Reaper?—
A video pops up on my screen.
Hey, Sam. Don’t worry about picking up our girl. I’ll take it from here.
Reaper’s cocky grin pisses me the fuck off.
Mercy’s trapped under his arm, a bouquet of white roses clutched to her chest. Her eyes are wide as she stares at him instead of the camera, her lips parted in a precious little o.
Hair straight. Deep red lipstick. A little black dress that would turn a preacher’s head.
I hit the call button, and it goes unanswered. I try again. And again. The entire drive over, I barrel through red lights and keep calling. Every time it goes to voicemail, I hang up and redial.
By the time I storm into the Morningstar’s house and up to Mercy’s bedroom, I’m seething with rage.
No one’s ever been interested in Mercy enough to steal her from me.
I spot her phone on her desk, along with her purse.
The sketchbook on the table is flipped to the back where a drawing of Mercy pushed up against the wall—with a man I recognize as Reaper’s brother—burying his face in the curve of her neck.
Maybe Reaper didn’t give her the hickey like I thought… and maybe there is another threat with Zane, after all.
Cursing loudly, I take the stairs two at a time and burst outside into the evening air. Gravel’s been kicked up on the driveway, a single track cutting a trench all the way up to the mortuary’s paved lot.
“She went with that tall fellow.” Grandma Star’s sudden comment damn near makes me shoot her. She nods to herself as she rocks in a chair on the front porch, a smile tugging at her lips. “So many suitors, so little time.”
“What do you mean, Grandma?”
She nods again, this time towards the church on the far end of the property. “That other one’s been here every night fixin’ up the old church. Don’t need a church to get married, though.” She rocks slowly, her gaze distant. “He seems nice. He cleaned up the graves until my husband gets back.”
Mercy’s grandfather’s been dead for at least half a decade.
“Did they say where they were going?”
Grandma Star hums to herself, not sensing the urgency of the situation.
I’d never hurt the old woman, but it’s tempting if it means getting Mercy back.
But if I hurt her, Mercy would never forgive me, so as Grandma starts muttering to herself, I consider her a lost cause and jump back into my car.
Taking a deep breath, I put my phone on speaker and make another call.
“Hey, it’s me again.”
“Little Wright,” Grey greets cheerily. “Rock on. What do you need?”
“I need to track a vehicle that just left the Morningstar Mortuary’s lot. It might be a motorcycle. Can you pull up the traffic cams?”
Grey is silent, but I can hear him typing on a keyboard. “Black hot rod, yeah. It’s headed across town by the looks of it. Want me to?—”
“Send me the feed, yeah. Can you lock on and send me updated coordinates?”
“Sure, Boss. Need backup?”
I consider it for half a second before shaking my head. “No, I want to handle this myself.”
Because if Reaper hurts a single hair on her head, I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.