Mercy's Angels Box Set (72 page)

I nodded. “Drew, take Mercy back to the office.”

Drew nodded. The beefy silent soldier moved beside Mercy, his firearm in one hand, his other wrapped gently around Mercy’s arm. Mercy’s tears had stopped, and she looked a little defiant and scary in that moment.

“You get her back, Braiden,” she ordered.

I could only manage a nod. “Gabbie, Bomber, you’re with me,” I snarled like a wild animal. We climbed into the car, me driving. I needed to keep myself in check, and focusing on a task as simple as driving would help me do that. “Let’s go kill this piece of shit.”

“Fuckin’ Aye,” confirmed Bomber.

“Bout damn time,” murmured Gabbie.

When I woke, my tongue was thick and dry, and my head was pounding in a familiar way—I’d been drugged again. I’d offered myself in exchange for Mercy, and I hadn’t struggled, but they still damn well drugged me. When I woke on the leather couch in Montgomery Securities, I thought I was trapped in a nightmare. Jonas’ voice seeped down the hallway, sending me into a frozen panic. I then heard Sam’s voice, then Bomber’s, and finally Jonas’ once more. It wasn’t long before I realized it was a recording. I quietly crept to the partially closed door and listened—Jonas had Mercy. My blood ran cold, all my fear of that hostile and callous voice gone with the need to save Mercy. He’d taken Mercy—good, honorable, kind Mercy—who spent her life helping others. Mercy was my friend, and her husband, Dave, was the most patient, kind soul I had ever known. I wouldn’t allow Jonas to ruin them like he ruined me. Moving carefully back to the wide open room I had moments before been safely sleeping in, I slipped out the doors that led to the stairwell and snuck out onto the street. I ran all the way to Coats and Collars, knowing exactly where it was—opposite the library, three blocks from Montgomery Securities. By the time I threw myself around the last corner, I slipped on the icy pavement and nearly face planted it. A minivan was sitting in front of Coats and Collars. Two familiar faces turned simultaneously in my direction, guns in hand. I knew them and they definitely knew me. Donald and Nate. Nate climbed from the front seat and casually leaned against the van. I approached him cautiously as two more men stepped out onto the street, guns aimed at me. I didn’t spare them a glance though, Nate held all of my attention right now. He was the most dangerous one here as far as I was concerned.

“Emily,” Nate nodded.

“Where is she?” I asked. I wasn’t leaving with him until I knew Mercy was safe. The side of the van opened and Mercy was ruthlessly shoved out. She would have fallen if it weren’t for Nate grabbing her at the last minute.

“You alone?” Nate asked.

I nodded. “But not for long. They’ll know I’ve left soon and will come looking for me.” Nate nodded at that and pushed Mercy towards the front windows of Coats and Collars. He then signaled for me to come forward. “You promise no harm will come to her?” Mercy was crying and shaking her head furiously.

“Nope, but Jonas does. He just wants you; he could give a fuck about them.” Jonas’ word shouldn’t have been enough, but it was. He had never broken his word, not once. When I was within reach, Nate pulled me by the arm, his fingers digging in so hard I knew they would leave bruises. He obviously wasn’t any worse for wear following Braiden shooting him. “Should have put you down years ago,” he snarled, pushing me into the van. I fell backwards, and my head hit the hard floor, causing little black spots to float in my vision. A sharp sting pierced the side of my neck, and I knew right away he had drugged me. As my eyelids instantly became heavy, my head lolled to one side. The last thing I remembered was seeing a cell phone sitting just under the seat in front of me, blinking away furiously. My foggy thoughts wanted me to reach out and grab it, but my sluggish body couldn’t respond. Seconds later, everything went black.

Now I turned my head and took in my surroundings. I was in a small room that was comfortable and clean. The blinds were shut and it was dark, but I had no idea if it was night or day. The door to the room was closed, and I appeared to be alone. I carefully sat up and swung my legs off the bed. I noticed a glass of water beside me and drank it, not caring if it was drugged. I was too thirsty to care. After drinking the entire glass, I moved to the blinds and peered out. I saw nothing but darkness, but not the natural darkness of night, the window was boarded up. I carefully tried the doorknob to the room and wasn’t surprised to find that it was locked. I searched the drawers for something I might have been able to use as a weapon, but I found nothing. Eventually, I sat on the side of the bed and took a few long, calming breaths. Braiden wouldn’t have been far behind me; I knew they’d be looking for me now. I rubbed the tracking device in my shoulder, finding some comfort in the fact it was there. The door handle suddenly rattled as someone unlocked it from the other side. I stood, pressing my shoulders back, refusing to show fear.

When the door pushed open, Nate stood on the other side of it. He didn’t move, just stared, eventually shaking his head. “Strip.”

I tilted my head as I considered the slimy, arrogant prick before me. He had always considered himself too good to fuck me, and I was grateful for that. I hated him and didn’t want his dick anywhere near my body.

“No,” I said.

My defiance didn’t surprise Nate. Instead, it amused him. He walked into the room, looking far too nonchalant for my liking. When he was close enough, he hit me. A closed fist to the side of my face which sent me sprawling across the bed at my back. While I was momentarily incapacitated, Nate began ripping the clothes off my body.

“Fight me, Emily, please. I love it when we tangle.”

When I was naked, he pulled me to my unsteady feet and led me out of the room, down a long hallway, which opened into a large living room, easily as big as Braiden’s, perhaps bigger. I quickly assessed my surroundings. Nate was blocking the doorway at my back, a large door stood directly in front of me, there were windows to the left, and a big sprawling couch in front of a cozy fireplace on my right. Sitting on the couch were three men who I had never seen before, all watching me with interest. Remembering I was naked, I somehow refrained from trying to cover myself. It would only amuse them, and I refused to be their source of entertainment. There appeared to be a small library on my right, with books lined floor to ceiling and a large, brown leather rocker beside it. In the rocker sat Jonas, his familiar handsome features caused my stomach to roll with nausea. He watched me with a small arrogant grin playing on his lips. That kind of sly smile looked devilishly handsome on Braiden, on Jonas it made me sick. I glanced at the man who sat in a chair beside him. I had never seen this man before, and he frightened me just as much as Jonas did, perhaps more so if that were at all possible. His cold calculating gaze caught my eye. Even sitting, I could tell he was tall. His shoulders and chest were wide. He was in a grey suit equally as expensive as Jonas’, his foot propped casually on his knee, expensive black leather shoes shining under the bright light of the room. His eyes were dark, as was his hair, and his skin was olive and smooth. He wasn’t a young man, but, like Jonas, he had looked after himself and looked much younger than he most likely was. He flicked his ash off his cigarette into an ornate ashtray at his side, his eyes watching me in a way I didn’t quite understand. I was completely naked and bare before him, but he wasn’t leering at my body like men in Jonas’ company often did. I didn’t know how to respond to that gaze; it was more borne out of curiosity and interest rather than desire.

“You’ve caused quite the conundrum, Pet,” drawled Jonas, bringing my attention back to him. “But it seems I have found a way to turn this all around.” He gave the mysterious man at his side a quick glance before he stood and moved towards me. It took everything I had not to take a step away from him as he got within reach. His fingers gripped my chin painfully, forcing my head to one side, inspecting the bruise, most likely already forming from Nate’s fist.

“She was argumentative.” Nate shrugged.

“Isn’t she always?” Jonas smirked. No, I thought to myself. I had been sickeningly submissive and compliant for far too long. “Kneel,” Jonas growled, any trace of humor gone.

Before I had a chance to argue, my knees were hit from behind and I fell painfully to the floor. I breathed deeply through my nose, using all the strength I could muster not to cry out. Instead of relaxing into the submissive posture I had been taught, I held my head high and stared at Jonas defiantly.

He snickered as he turned to the man who had been sitting at his side. “Mr. Grekov, your merchandise. I must apologize for the bruises, however, they will heal. The scars are...” He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Well, as I told you, she’s a little banged up but still quite beautiful. And she is trained to the highest standard as a slave. I assure you this little act of insubordination will be easily removed with the appropriate punishment. Water has been quite effective on her in the past.”

Mr. Grekov put out his cigarette and rose. He was indeed tall and solid. An air of danger radiated from him as he moved towards me. I couldn’t stop the shudder that slid over my body. This man was going to buy me—this man procured slaves—he was just like Jonas, filled with evil, but there was something else, something more to him. My new master circled me once before crouching down in front of me, too close for comfort. I tried not to squirm under his assessing eyes, which bored into mine as if seeking out my soul. This man was no doubt the scariest thing I had ever met, but there was definitely something else behind his stare. His large clenched fist rose to my shoulder, and I flinched ever so slightly. Rather than hit me though, the back of his knuckles slid down my arm. I tried hard not to recoil at the gesture. When his hand found mine in my lap, the most startling thing happened. A cold sharp pocket sized object was placed in my fist, and my fingers were encouraged to close over it. It was a knife.

“Ona dovol'no prekrasen,” the man murmured with a thick accent.

I looked nervously at Jonas who was partly hidden behind the hulking figure. He obviously didn’t notice the interaction to be anything out of the ordinary. Jonas glanced at a tall man standing close by with an arched brow.

“He finds her attractive,” the man translated for Jonas. My hands trembled and I clenched them together to prevent anyone from noticing. The blade in my palm cut into my skin, reminding me of its presence.

Mr. Grekov stood and moved away. “Den'gi,” the mysterious man growled.

The tall man who had translated held up a briefcase that one of Jonas’ men took. He was quick to open it and started counting the bundled money inside. This was a transaction, an exchange of human life for cash. The thought filled my blood with anger.

Jonas moved to stand in front of me again. “You lost me a buyer, tarnished my reputation, and forced me to close several of my businesses. You put quite a dent in my funds, Pet. Luckily for me, I found a buyer looking for someone just like you. Mr. Grekov has quite the reputation for depravity,” Jonas smiled, “which you are somewhat accustomed to.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I snarled. The words spilled free from lips having come straight from my heart.

Jonas laughed. “Of course you are, Pet.” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on me. Jonas turned to Mr. Grekov. “Before the transaction is complete, I am going to indulge one last time. As I’m sure you can appreciate, she has been servicing me for many years. I am almost regretful to let her go.”

Mr. Grekov didn’t argue but it his eyes flared with something close to anger.

Jonas began to move forward, removing his belt as he did. “What do you say, Pet, one last fuck just for old time sake? Since I was your first, it only seems fitting that I be your last on American soil.”

Nate’s hard hand grabbed one of my arms ruthlessly from behind as he prepared to hold me down for Jonas. My body seemed to slip into a state of calm resolve. I would rather die than be a filthy slave to these men any longer, and I would take as many of these animals with me in the process.

Mr. Grekov bellowed something in a language I didn’t understand. With the knife held steady in my palm, I turned and slashed out almost blindly in Nate’s direction. He stumbled back, surprised, and his hand clutched at the blood that gushed from the deadly wound in his neck. Everything seemed to slow in that instant as I watched Nate garble rather than scream, his alarmed eyes focused on mine.

Firm hands grabbed me as chaos erupted around us. “You fucking whore!” roared Jonas in my ear.

I tried to swing the knife in his direction, but his strong hands grabbed my wrist as he pulled me to his chest. He easily got the knife free and raised it to my neck. All around me the room had erupted into anarchy. Armed men moved so fast I barely had time to comprehend what was happening. It was only when the room had become silent that I looked up and realized what was going on around me. My dark and deadly warrior stood before me. Braiden was panting hard and blood was dripping down his arm, his gun aimed on Jonas’ head beside mine. His face was a mask of pain and fury as he watched Jonas. He didn’t need to say anything as his eyes spoke a thousand words, most of which were death.

Bomber and Gabbie had taken out Jonas’ men, while Mr. Grekov’s men held their own weapons steady, also trained on Jonas. What the hell just happened?

“Let her go, and I will make sure your death is quick,” Braiden said in a voice far too calm for the anger that was etched into his handsome features.

“If I’m going to die anyway, I might as well take her with me,” Jonas snarled.

“Not going to happen,” Braiden said with steely conviction.

Suddenly a large hand gripped Jonas’ wrist. It forced the knife away from my neck, and I was thrust forward into Braiden’s waiting arms. He seemed ready for whatever had happened and scooped me into his chest, while his hand still held a gun on Jonas.

“You’re fucking working with him?” Jonas yelled in outrage.

I chanced a glance at Mr. Grekov, who was standing behind Jonas with the now bloodied knife at Jonas’ neck.

“Actually, he worked for me for long time. Now, we are no more than father and son, even if he does not carry the Toporov name any longer,” Mr. Grekov said in a low husky voice, thick with a Russian accent.