Fighting Back (Mercy's Angels) (19 page)

Ella and Mercy made their way to the kitchen and started pouring drinks. Rebecca moved to my side and I wrapped my arm around her.

“I don’t know if I really feel like celebrating,” she whispered, which Ella heard loud and clear.

“Remember when my life turned into a circus and Jax and Dillon went all macho He-Man on me and we had drinks at your place? You filled me with alcohol, and even though at the time I wasn’t sure I wanted it, I really did need it. I’m repaying the favor.” Ella strolled towards Rebecca with a full glass in hand. She held it out and Rebecca took it without hesitation. “And I owe you more hangovers than I care to remember.” Rebecca seemed to sigh in defeat, and I noted that she really didn’t put up much of a fight. Either she knew these women were relentless when it came to
protecting and taking care of their own, or she knew she really did need something to take her mind off the situation we couldn’t do anything about right now. Dillon had already notified Frank, Braiden had taken Rebecca’s phone and was out doing his thing. We just had to sit tight and wait.

“How you holding up?” asked Jax, when he caught me alone in the kitchen. The women were giggling from the large white couch in the living room. Dillon had set up the Xbox in his bedroom for Eli, and for now, things almost felt normal.

“I’m good.” Jax passed me a beer.

“Uh-huh. That why you look like you wanna kill someone?”

“I do want to kill someone,” I admitted easily. Jax smirked and held out his beer. I clinked my own bottle against his.

“These pricks who fuck with our women need to know exactly who they’re dealing with. No one threatens what’s ours. I’m with you on this, if you need anything,” he gave me a pointed look, “anything at all, you ask.”

This was one of the reasons Jax Carter was my best friend. The dude had my back, always, and even though he struggled with memories of blood and death, he would take up arms again in a heartbeat for me. I gave him a quick nod.

“Ella has turned you into a pussy, you know,” I said a little gruffly, and Jax laughed.

“Yep, I’m whipped and proud of it.” He patted me hard on the back as we made our way back to the gaggle of women. It wasn’t long before Rebecca’s eyes were looking a little glassy, and the lazy smile on her face told me she was quickly reaching the contented point of no return.

“You know, the jeans and shit are all good and well, but it’s still weird seeing you in them,” Ella said, pushing her way under Jax’s arm.

Rebecca glanced down at herself then back to Ella. “They kinda feel weird,” she admitted, and it surprised me.

“Then why are you wearing them?” Ella asked in a challenging tone. I smiled because I knew the little tiger was baiting Rebecca. My damn Betty Boop couldn’t back down from a challenge, she was too feisty and independent.

“I have no idea. I guess I felt silly in my other clothes, but to be honest, now I kinda feel silly in this.” She glanced down at her clothes once more then suddenly stood up. For a split second I thought she was going to give Ella one hell of an ear full, until she smiled.

“Be right back.” She disappeared down the long wide hall and into the monstrous room we had been settled into. Fifteen minutes later, she sauntered back into the living room wearing a light pink dress that hugged her breasts and fell into a full skirt. Her hair was pulled up into a high pony tail, her feet bare. It was a familiar sight that made my dick instantly hard. She collapsed gracefully and unabashedly into my lap. “That feels better,” she whispered. Nobody questioned her wardrobe
change, they didn’t need to. Old Rebecca had somehow found her way back. I didn’t care what she wore, but this did make me insanely happy. It felt right, it felt like she had taken a final step in healing. I knew she still had rough seas ahead, we still had shit to deal with, but right now Rebecca had slipped back into the woman she was before her attack, and I wasn’t referring to just her clothes. Her heart had once again found its strength and determination. She glanced around the room, her eyes taking in the people who conversed amongst themselves—her friends, her family. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from her to save myself.

I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You are beautiful, you know that, right?” The goose bumps that prickled her skin made me grin. The back of her dress dipped down so low, I knew there was no way she was wearing a bra. I wished we were alone so I could slip my hands under the fabric and see if her nipples had hardened under my whispered caress. Rebecca leaned back into me and I held her against my chest.

“Calendar,” she murmured after a short while, and Lola, who was sitting beside us, gave her a curious look. “It passed through my mind the other day, just as a joke, but I think we could do this,” Rebecca went on, not really explaining what the hell she was talking about. Everyone was watching her expectantly now. “We could have a Mercy’s Angel’s calendar and fill it with the gorgeous men of Claymont, proceeds going to Mercy’s Shelter,” she spoke fast, her voice full of excitement. The girls suddenly grinned, but all the guys, myself included, became rigid with fear. “Charlie can be January, because you know, what a way to start the year.” Her fingers laced with mine and I gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Dillon can be July because with that military cut, he has that all-American, Fourth of July look,” Ella said, playing along.

“And Braiden has to be one of the winter months, because he’s so dark and mysterious,” Lola suggested.

“Jax is December.” Ella smirked. Jax raised a horrified brow in her direction. “You’ve got Christmas down, babe,” she smiled, “you’re like one giant Christmas present.”

Mercy laughed loudly. “I don’t know about that. A few years ago, Jax and Charlie went out on Christmas Eve and indulged in just a little too much Christmas festivity. The next morning when we came downstairs to open presents, Charlie was asleep under the tree wearing nothing but a pair of red boxers and a red bow tie around his neck.”

It was Dave’s turn to laugh. “That’s right. It was a disturbing way to greet Christmas Day.” 

Mercy’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “David is April, because that’s the month we met.”

Dave’s smile vanished instantly. “Honey, I think I’m a little too old for this calendar business.”

“Oh no, you’re not!” demanded Ella.

“Dave, you really have that distinguished Richard Gere look going on. You’ll make a perfect April,” Annie said thoughtfully, only encouraging the women further. I looked around at the guys in the room who were all looking a little ill.

“You only have five guys. That’s not nearly enough for a calendar. Damn shame,” Dillon growled.

“Brent, from the gym, he’s hot, and I know he’s definitely confident enough to do something crazy like this.” At the mention of Brent, I became a little stiff. Rebecca had noticed the pretty boy and it didn’t sit well with me. She turned in my arms and pressed a kiss to my lips, chaste but forceful. “God knows none of them have anything on you,” she whispered. Okay, I was an absolute caveman and my cavewoman knew just how to soothe me. Just like Jax, I was whipped.

“And Blue from the shelter, he has that cute skater look that some girls go for,” Ella continued on. I groaned loudly, along with the other three men in the room. However, even though the thought of modeling for a calendar scared me, I couldn’t refute the fact it was a good idea, and it was for a very worthy cause. And if Rebecca asked me to do it, there was no way I would be able to refuse her.

“Well, I can totally rock Christmas,” Jax finally said with a big shit eating grin on his face. “I mean, I look pretty damn good in red.”

“I don’t see it, your fucking ego is in the way,” I joked. The rest of the night played out much like that. The guys giving each other shit, the girls rattling on about their damn calendar. It was finally brought to an end around eleven o’clock when Rebecca promptly passed out in my lap. I carried her to our room and looked down at her splayed out across the bed. Her dress looked too nice to sleep in so I carefully rolled her to her side and unclipped the button at her neck and unzipped the zipper at her waist. Under her protesting moans, I slid the dress down her body then stood, brazenly staring at her beautiful, nearly naked form. She was wearing nothing but a pair of lacey white panties, her breasts bare as I had assumed earlier. Her skin was milky white and smooth, her curves feminine and soft. She wasn’t a waif like some men preferred, she was all female, shapely like a woman should be.

“You just gonna stand there all night and stare at me, or are you gonna make me come?” Rebecca’s eyes fluttered open and her sexy grin hit me hard in the chest. I did want to make her come, over and over, but she was drunk and I wasn’t taking advantage of that.

“You’re in no condition tonight, maybe in the morning, if your head can handle it.”  I pulled my shirt over my head and felt Rebecca’s eyes on my chest.

“No way, Charlie,” she sat up, “that,” she pointed a finger in my direction, “is all mine, and I want a taste, now!”

Arrrggghhh, fuck. My willpower where this woman was concerned was non-existent. I lowered myself over her and kissed her hard, forcing my tongue in her mouth. She tasted like vodka and orange juice, the perfect combination of bitter and sweet. She wriggled beneath me and I somehow managed to remove my mouth from hers and moved to take her breasts in my hands. After kissing and teasing her pale pink nipples for a short while, I realized she had stilled under my sexual attack. Lifting my head I noticed her eyes were closed.

“Way to make a man feel two feet tall.” I chuckled. She had fallen asleep under my hands. I knew it was the alcohol—not my lack of expertise—but I was silently thankful. I couldn’t refuse her, yet I knew I shouldn’t have been taking her in this state. I pushed myself up onto my forearms and simply took in her beauty. A low snore escaped her nose and it was too fucking adorable. I rolled off of her and proceeded to take off my jeans and climb into the bed, pulling her small body slightly under my much larger one. I was probably squashing her—but this is where she ended up the last few nights we slept together—partly buried beneath me where I could keep her safe—and this is where I needed her now. She hadn’t complained then, so I assumed she’s just as happy with the position now. The night had ended with laughter and ease, but I knew tomorrow reality would return. Rebecca’s worry would carry in her delicate features and my anger would once again simmer. Yeah, right now life was a bitch, but I was going to fix it. William Levier was going to wish he’d never been born.

Rebecca

Charlie stood at my back, Dillon not far behind us. We were at the firing range close to the house, practicing with the gun Charlie taught me to shoot a couple of days ago. I was terrible—my aim was off by a long shot—pun intended. I was actually worried about the few people who stood alongside me, firing their own weapons.

“She’s holding her breath,” Dillon noted.

“You have to breathe, Betty Boop, and relax, you’re all tense.”

My head was pounding like a mother fucker. I was grouchy, hung-over, tired, and ready to shoot both of these men any second. I woke up way too early this morning and was unable to go back to sleep after having
another
nightmare. I walked around Dillon and Braiden’s pristine home, wishing I could return to my own house. I missed it, I missed my stuff. Almost every night my eyes fluttered shut, after sleep took me into its cool embrace, I was confronted with nightmares. That bastard controlled my nights and it felt like some kind of failure on my part, like I was somehow allowing him to manipulate me. And then there was the fact that he and his father had hurt my sister—may still be hurting my sister. They were going down for that—I had no idea how—but I wouldn’t rest until they did. That thought alone had fueled me enough to get me to the firing range, but now I was stuck in a well of self-pity. I needed a bucket of ice cream, pronto.

“Her right foot needs to be forward a little more,” observed Dillon patiently. His calm comments were making me not so calm. Charlie tried to physically move my leg, and I stepped quickly out of his reach. Enough was enough.

“Okay, I’ve had it!” I yelled. Charlie was quick to take the loaded gun from my hand, probably realizing if he didn’t, I would be too tempted to use it on one of them. “My head hurts, I’m tired and I’m just not good at shooting. I’m a florist for God’s sake, I make bouquets and they are fucking impressive and perfect, because that’s what I do. You are the soldier,” I pointed at Dillon, “and you are a kick-ass fighter that won’t let me out of his sight, so how about you guys do the Rambo gun bullshit and leave me to fucking worry about my sister.” I took a deep breath, feeling somewhat lighter after my tantrum. “I want ice cream,” I growled to no one in particular, then walked away from our booth at the firing range. Of course the guys didn’t let me get too far ahead, carefully maneuvering me between their hulking mass of bodies.

The drive back to the house was quiet. My heart began to hammer when I saw Braiden’s car as we pulled into the long driveway. He’d been gone since last evening when he took my phone and left without a word. It was already afternoon again and we only had a little over twenty-four hours to organize the paperwork that would transfer the ownership of my house to William Levier. Dillon and Charlie had no intention of allowing me to do such a thing.  As far as they were concerned, it
wouldn’t be necessary, but I yearned to have the deed in my hands, ready to go, just in case. I had always sworn there wasn’t a single thing that would convince me to give up my family home. I was wrong, dead wrong. The safety of both me and Emily was worth more than that. At the end of the day, the house was simply a house, a material object. 

We found Braiden seated in front of a massive computer screen in a sharp looking office. He was dressed in an expensive looking black suit, his black hair hung over his eyes in an almost wild carefree way. His jaw had a two day growth, and his dark eyes looked a little tired, but still intense. I wondered what the hell he was up to last night. He looked spruced up enough that I wondered if he had been on a date—he’d been gone almost twenty-four hours without so much as a call, and now he looked as though he had stepped from the pages of
GQ
magazine—when he had clearly stated he would be looking into ‘things’. Braiden didn’t look up or acknowledge us in any way. Charlie and Dillon sat lazily in chairs, just watching him, I, on the other hand, paced nervously around the room, wanting to ask him what the hell he’d found out. Watching him sit so still at that damn computer, completely oblivious to my panic and anticipation had me wanting to shake the shit out of him. Just when I thought I might start screaming like a crazy woman, Braiden swung the computer screen around to face us. An image of a tall, lean blonde haired man with cold blue eyes and a deep olive complexion filled the screen. He had that educated, upper-class, pretty boy look, but at the same time, he appeared cold and cruel.

“William Levier, your brother-in-law,” Braiden said, glancing at me. He flicked to another picture—this one was an older man with similar blue eyes, his hair a little darker, but peppered with grey. He was handsome for an older man, but he also looked ruthless and calculating. While perfectly groomed into the rich and powerful businessman he portrayed on the outside, you could clearly see his callous and hard exterior went further than skin deep. The gleam in his eyes, the hard line of his jaw, he looked like the human personification of Lucifer. “Jonas Levier, William’s father.” Braiden skipped to the next picture.

I gasped and tears immediately filled my eyes. Emily. She was dressed in an elegant, knee length wrap dress, standing tall and proud in expensive heels. Her short pixie style hair was fashionable and sleek, and her makeup was flawless, accentuating her crystal blue eyes. But it was in her gaze that I could see the truth clearly—she looked defeated, her eyes were hollow and empty—the spark of life that had once filled them was gone. Charlie pulled me down to his lap and I went willingly.

“Last night I took a quick trip out of town.” Braiden glanced a little nervously at Dillon. It was unusual to see Braiden show any visible signs of discomfort. “I visited one of Jonas Levier’s smaller clubs—one of the legal ones. I didn’t expect to find anything in such a short amount of time, but I met a woman there.” Braiden sat back in the black leather chair and linked his hands behind his head, any signs of worry gone. He looked cool and aloof once again. “Her name was Madison and she knows of your sister.” I forced my tears away as I listened to Braiden, ignoring the picture of the elegant, yet broken girl on the screen. “She is well known amongst the staff of Jonas’s establishments, she’s been in his employ for a long time now. She used to be one of his most sought after women that had a price tag that would make you shudder.” Braiden’s eyes flickered with something I that couldn’t identify and his hands left the casual embrace behind his head as he
leaned forward. “She fought, and many of the men that frequent Jonas’s clubs like that in a woman.” My hand held fast over my mouth in an attempt to hold back the vomit rising in my throat, while my body shivered uncontrollably. Charlie wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to the comforting heat of his body. “Apparently, a couple of years ago she stopped fighting, became compliant, and the only reason Jonas kept her around was because she still looked sixteen. When she turned twenty, she started to look her age and found herself with a whole new cliental. Still men with dominant predilections, but they weren’t masochistic; they didn’t hurt her like the others did. Madison seemed to be under the impression that Emily had been very happy in her new place of employment. She was basically a kept woman, one of Jonas’s favorites.”

“How did she end up married to William?” Dillon asked, his voice low, murderous. He was angry and I got that. As soon as the horror fled my body, anger would be left in its wake, too.

“Madison isn’t on the inside, she only knows what she knows because of rumors. According to said gossip, Jonas gave Emily to William as a gift of sorts. William had wanted Emily for a long time and the rumor is Emily did something to embarrass Jonas. Being handed off to William was part of her punishment.”

“Part of it?” I asked through trembling lips. Braiden looked at me for a long time before answering.

“Dominant men like Jonas have certain ways of delivering punishment to a sub depending on the severity of the misconduct. Madison seemed to think Emily did something quite terrible that may or may not have left a client more than a little uncomfortable in the region of his genitals.” One corner of Braiden’s mouth lifted in a half grin, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. 

“What sort of punishment, other than being forced on William, did Emily endure?” I persisted. I needed to know, and it would more than likely make me sick to my stomach, but I needed to know what she had gone through. As if knowing was a form of punishment for allowing her to walk away from Claymont. She had been nothing more than a child, I should have filed a missing persons report, or I could have tried to tracked her down and drag her home until she was eighteen, by which time she might have settled down a little. Braiden’s gaze went from Dillon’s to Charlie’s, then back to mine. “She is my sister, Braiden, not theirs. Tell me!”

“As I said, Madison isn’t privy to the inside world of Jonas, it’s mostly rumors,” he hedged.

“JUST TEL ME!” I screamed, my patience finally gone.

Braiden didn’t flinch or show emotion of any sort. “It is said that he scarred her body in a way that makes her worthless now.” I held my breath, waiting for him to explain. Braiden’s eyes flared for a moment with fury. “He whipped her. Some dom’s use a whip in sexual play—Jonas is renowned for his execution with such equipment—but on this occasion he used it to break the skin and left marks. In the upper class world of Jonas Levier, such marks make a woman worthless; hence, she was given to his son.” I felt numb. I couldn’t comprehend the world Emily was living in; I couldn’t comprehend the life that was suddenly drowning me. “William has been shunned by his father. He acquired himself a taste for heroin and got himself in a sticky situation with one of the local city gangs—he owes them money, a lot of money.  Jonas has officially wiped his hands of William and word is he is currently looking for his property—he wants Emily back.”

“What does that have to do with Rebecca? Why are they here?” Charlie asked.

“From what I gathered, William found out about Emily and Rebecca’s property here in Claymont. William has accumulated a lot of property, but the majority of it is tied up in his father’s businesses. Rebecca’s home is worth a bit of money and with William’s connections in property, he would be able to find a buyer quickly for it.  It would be an effortless way to get himself out of his current financial quandary. My guess is he tried to get Emily to convince Rebecca to sell, and when that didn’t work he thought he might be able to scare her out of the house.”

“So he attacked her,” Dillon surmised.

Braiden nodded. “Didn’t go to plan though, so now he’s grasping at straws, throwing around his father’s name in hopes that people will bow down out of fear and give him what he wants. For William this is about money, nothing more, nothing less.”

“And Emily is just piece of property stuck in the middle.” I stiffened at Charlie’s description of my sister and stood up from his lap.

“She’s not a piece of property, she’s a fucking human being, Charlie, she’s my damn sister, my flesh and blood and they hurt her. They forced her to do things she didn’t want to do!” I found myself screaming at him. Horror now replaced with anger.

“I know baby, I didn’t mean any disrespect. You know that’s not how I feel.”

“Do I? I know you blame her for my attack. You’ve blamed her for it the moment you saw that piece of paper on the floor in my kitchen. What the hell am I supposed to think?” Charlie stood and I saw the rage in his eyes. My heart raced, and my head pounded, but not with fear, this was all anger.

“If she hadn’t run away all those years ago, neither of you would be in this predicament now.” It felt like he slapped me, I actually flinched. Braiden stood along with Dillon.

“We can’t change what happened; choices were made and we can’t hold that against anyone. If you want to play that game, we could go back and pile hate on the women who birthed both Jonas and William Levier. The blame could be endless. The only people who should hold our anger and hatred right now are the Levier men. They are the monsters here, they are the reason behind Emily and Rebecca’s situation.” Braiden sounded so calm, he almost doused the fire burning in my veins—almost. I still wanted to smack Charlie, hard. Before I could do anything irrational and crazy, I turned and stormed out of the office—no one followed me. I slammed the door closed on mine and Charlie’s room. I stood there, seething, anger coursing through my body. I picked up the closest thing to me—Charlie’s shoe—and threw it hard. It slid across the top of a dresser, knocking an expensive looking art deco sculpture off the top of it, which broke when it hit the carpet. But it didn’t made a sound when it landed and it frustrated me. I wanted destruction, I wanted noise, I wanted to break shit. I picked up and threw the other shoe, then began throwing clothes around the room, pillows, my make-up, anything I could get my hand on, until I finally ran out of objects to throw. I sank to my knees as big ugly sobs fell from my lips. I cried for my sister. I cried for the injustice those demons inflicted on her small body, I cried for the damage that such abuse would have inflicted on her soul, because in that picture of Emily, that’s what I saw. A broken girl and it would haunt me for the rest of my life.

I barely noticed the large hands that picked me up off the floor. I knew instantly it was Charlie, and I was still angry with him, but I couldn’t find the energy to escape his embrace. He sank to the floor, his back against the bed, me in his lap.

“I’m sorry, Betty Boop, I didn’t mean to belittle your sister or what she’s been through. Seeing her in that picture though, hearing Braiden’s story, it destroyed a small piece of my heart. I was furious and I didn’t know how to deal with that, still don’t.”