Chapter 15 Cash
CASH
Ishoulder the door, eyes gritty from spreadsheets and receipts, and stop dead.
Mercy’s sprawled across my sheets in my T-shirt and her cutoffs, bare legs crossed, idly thumbing through one of my bike magazines.
“This is quite the collection of literature you’ve got here,” she says without looking up, holding up the magazine to show a centerfold of a blonde in a bikini draped over a custom Harley. “Very intellectual. I’m learning so much about... carburetors.”
“Those are Duck’s,” I lie, moving into the room. “He leaves them everywhere.”
“Mm-hmm.” She flips the page. “And I suppose Duck also dog-eared the page with the redhead in leather chaps?”
“That was research.”
“Research.” She finally looks up, green eyes sparkling with mirth. “Into what? Aerodynamics?”
“Exactly.” I sit on the edge of the bed, unable to stop myself from running my hand up her bare leg. “How the female form affects wind resistance.”
She laughs, tossing the magazine aside. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re in my bed.”
“Technically, I’m on it.” She stretches like a cat, my shirt riding up to show a strip of skin that makes my mouth water. “Is that a problem, biker?”
I shake my head and feign outrage. “Serious violation of house policy. Beds are for sleeping, or very specific approved recreational activities.”
She laughs and sits up. “Guess you’ll have to cite me, then,” she says, eyes steady on mine. “I’m not really afraid of the management.”
I snort. “You should be.”
“Well, I’m not. Not anymore, anyway.”
Her words take me by surprise. “You were afraid of me?”
She shakes her head. “No. I mean, I probably should have been. The MC does have a reputation. But it always made me feel safe. You always made me feel safe.”
“Then what were you afraid of?”
“Us,” she answers immediately. “I was afraid of what he’d do if he saw I’d moved on.”
“Gabriel?”
She nods. “I knew he was keeping tabs on me, and I know what he’s capable of. I didn’t want to drag you into my shit.”
“Angel—”
“No. I need to tell you this.” She pulls her knees up to her chest, making herself smaller.
“I thought I was being so smart, you know? Working at Devil’s, being close enough to the MC that people would see me as under your protection but not actually being with anyone.
I figured Gabriel would keep his distance if he thought I was surrounded by dangerous bikers. ”
“But?”
“But then you happened.” She looks up at me, eyes shining.
“You kept showing up. Warning off other men. Looking at me like I was worth something to you instead of someone else’s damaged goods.
And I wanted to say yes so badly, Cash. Every time you asked, every time you touched me, I wanted to just.. . let go.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She laughs, but it’s bitter. “Do you remember that night all the old ladies made Steel take them out clubbing in Millbrook? You guys were out of town on a run and Ginger declared it girls night. It would have been a couple of months after we first met.”
My jaw clenches. “Supply-closet Derek.”
She smiles a little to herself, but she seems sad. “Yeah. You wouldn’t even look at me for two weeks straight. You know, I honestly thought you hated me after that. Like I’d crossed some unspoken line and you were done.”
“I wasn’t mad at you.” I squeeze her knee. “I wanted to find Derek and staple him to the supply closet wall, sure. But you? Fuck, Mercy. I was obsessed. I hated the idea of some other guy touching you.”
“I know.” She lifts her eyes to meet mine, and this time her watery smile is aimed at me. “Except there was no Derek.”
“The fuck? What the hell, Mercy?”
“It was one of Gabriel’s buddies. An ex-cop from Ailington who just ‘happened to be passing through’.
” She uses her fingers as air quotes. “He cornered me when I went to the bathroom, reminded me what would happen if Gabriel found out I was being unfaithful. Said Gabriel wouldn’t care about jurisdiction or consequences—he’d take down the whole MC just to hurt me. ”
The rage that builds in my chest is white-hot. “He fucking threatened you? In front of Steel?”
“Oh, god. No. Please don’t get mad at Steel. He had no idea. No one did. I lied about what happened and who was texting me because I didn’t want to drag down the mood.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I figured it was for the best—you not talking to me. We’d been getting closer, and I thought if I kept my distance, Gabriel would just... fade out. Maybe even back off.”
“But he didn’t back off.”
She shakes her head. “And I didn’t keep my distance.”
“I wouldn’t have let you. Hell, I didn’t let you.”
“I know.” Mercy snorts softly and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “We got real close there, and god, Cash, if we hadn’t gotten that call, I would’ve given you everything.”
My hand tightens on her knee. “After that night, after you told me we should just be friends, I figured I’d blown it. Thought maybe I pushed too hard.”
She shakes her head, face crumpling a little. “No. You were perfect. I just—everything felt too big. Too fast. Gabriel, the club, what I was feeling for you... I panicked.”
“It hurt,” I admit, my voice a little hoarse.
“Seeing you at the bar after that, acting like nothing happened. I’d get so mad, because I fucking knew we were something.
I’d come home and tell myself to just give you space and not take it personal.
But it was always personal, Mercy. That was the fuckin’ problem. ”
“I hated it too.” Her voice cracks. “Every time you walked out of Devil’s, I wanted to run after you. Tell you I was lying, that I wanted you so bad it scared me. But I kept thinking—if Gabriel saw, if he even suspected...”
“He’d come after me and my brothers.”
She nods. “And now it’s all happening anyway. He’s here, the club’s in danger, and we lost three months pretending we didn’t care about each other.”
I lift her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “If that’s what we were pretending, then both of us fucking suck at it.”
Mercy snorts, a hiccupy almost-laugh. “I’m so sorry, Cash.”
I stop her before the apologies can multiply, before she can find new ways to blame herself for my damage and hers. “You don’t ever apologize for surviving,” I say, steady so it sticks. “Not to me, not to anyone. Gabriel’s the one who oughta beg forgiveness, not you. You did what you had to do.”
She tries to laugh, but it shudders out sounding like grief. “It doesn’t feel that simple, Cash.”
“It never is. But I get it better than you think.” Because I do.
I know what it’s like to smile at people who scare you, to play along with their games because refusing means consequences you can’t afford.
I know what it’s like when someone with power decides you’re theirs to control, and your only weapon is making yourself less interesting, less available, less there.
The difference is, no one looked for me when I disappeared into the streets. Mercy had a marriage license and a cop’s badge keeping her locked in place.
I rest my palm on her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye where the tears threaten.
“You’ve been doing everything alone for so long, it’s muscle memory.
But this is where you got it wrong, Mercy—you think you’ve gotta keep me safe from your past, but that’s not how it works.
” I lean closer, pinning her with a look that leaves no room for argument.
“I’m the one who protects you. You got that? ”
She gives a shaky little nod, eyes wide. “Yeah. OK.”
“I mean it.” I press my forehead to hers, letting my voice go soft but keeping my words serious. “You don’t take another step in this alone. We can’t get back that time we lost. But I’m here now, angel. All in. No more running, no more pushing me away.”
“No more pretending,” she whispers. “I’m so tired of pretending, Cash. Tired of pretending that I’m not crazy about you, that I didn’t know you kept following me home and watching over me, that I didn’t like it.”
I pull my head back. “You knew about that?”
“Mrs. Yu told me. Said some pretty boy biker kept lurking outside my window like a lovesick teenager.” She laughs, watery but real. “That’s how I knew I was in deep. Because instead of being creeped out, I just felt... safe. Even a little turned on by it.”
“Angel.”
“Cash—”
I can’t wait another second. I close the last inch and take her mouth with mine, heat meeting heat.
This isn’t our first kiss, not even our second, but it’s the first one where there’s no hesitation, no pulling back.
My hands frame her face, holding her steady as I pour everything into this moment—all the waiting, the wanting, the frustration of watching her from a distance, being near her and never taking what I desperately want.
She melts under my touch, her body going soft and pliant as she opens for me.
The drag of her mouth over mine hits like a jolt—months of waiting condensed into one hungry slide of lips and breath.
I slide my hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head as my tongue traces the seam of her mouth.
She opens for me, greedy and sweet. Her little gasp sends a bolt of electricity straight through me.
“Fuck,” I growl against her mouth, dragging her up onto my lap without letting her mouth go.
She settles onto my lap, thighs tight around my hips, heat lining up flush against me.
I get my hands under the hem of her shirt and the sound she makes—low, breathy, involuntary—damn near unspools me.
And the way she fits there, all curve and heat and restless hands, makes me understand in my bones how stupid we were to ever wait.
“Cash.”
Her hips rock against me, slow at first, tentative. Testing. Then with more purpose as I grip her waist and guide her into a rhythm that has us both gasping.
“Jesus,” I groan as she grinds down harder. “You feel so good, angel.”