Page 16 of At Your Mercy
I wanted to know what had happened to that boy in the photo.
And worse—I wanted to know if there was anything left of him in the man sent to kill me.
The laptop screen went dim, reflecting my face back at me in pale blue. I shut it harder than I needed to and sat in the quiet, jaw tight, fists resting heavy against the coffee table.
5
Ronan
The man opened the door already sweating, his lecherous grin showcasing teeth yellowed by cigars.
“Wow. You’re even prettier in person, baby,” he said, looking me up and down like I was an expensive meal he couldn’t wait to devour. His hand brushed the doorway as he stepped aside, making a show of how much space he was giving me. “Come in.”
I entered, the sway of my hips mesmerizing him. My high-heeled boots made no sound on the polished floor, though his ears were probably too clogged with bourbon to notice either way.
He shut the door, and the click of the lock behind me made his smile turn filthy. “Just look at you,” he said, eyes roaming the length of my scantily clad body. “An exotic treasure like you is worth every penny.”
“Thank you, handsome. I feel so lucky to be of service to someone of your…staturetonight,” I said, pretending to admire his lavish living space.
“Do you drink?” he asked, reaching for a crystal decanter. His eyes never left me as he poured, glass trembling in his hand—from his closeted homosexual tendencies or Parkinson’s, I couldn’t be sure.
I smiled faintly, tilting my head just enough to catch the light on my hair. He stared like a man starving, caught between lust and hunger for something he thought he controlled.
“No, thank you. I like to stay clear-headed for my clients.”
He nodded, as if that made perfect sense to him. “I can see why they all say you’re the best, sweetheart. Not only do you have your looks, but you’re so polite and eager to serve. Now… why don’t you get a bit more comfortable?”
I let him touch me—a hand at my waist, another fumbling higher, fingertips clumsy on my shirt as his shaking hands worked to get me naked. His breath stank when he leaned close, whispering something obscene that I didn’t bother processing. I pressed my lips to his jawline and felt his wrinkly skin shiver under the softness of it.
“What would you like me to do first, Daddy?” I purred into his ear, taking a gamble that he’d like being called that—even if he were probably more in the realm of Granddaddy or Great-Granddaddy.
He let out a moan that made me want to gag as he groped every part of me he could get a hold of. “You’re going to be Daddy’s slut for the night.”
Barf.
“You gonna fuck me real good, Daddy?” I whispered breathily, biting kisses into his neck. I briefly glanced down, catching a glimpse of his tented pants and licking my lips.
“Oh, yeah, baby. I’m going to make sure you get your fill,” he crooned, going in for a kiss. I let him have it, the feeling of his tongue fucking into my mouth being downright disgusting. Cringe-worthy, even. Still, I kissed him back, moaning against his lips like a whore.
With his eyes closed, it was the perfect moment.
I slid my knife from my sleeve.
The edge kissed his throat as I leaned in like a lover, and then I pulled.
The sound he made was wet and startled, a man betrayed by his own body. His hands clawed at me, but his strength was draining fast, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
I guided him down into the armchair behind him, lowering him gently as his blood ran down his shirt, soaking into the upholstery. His eyes were wide, confused, and then glassy.
I watched silently until his chest stilled.
Then I straightened, tore off my shirt, and slipped the knife back into its sheath that sat strapped to my forearm. My phone was already in my hand before the body had cooled. I hit speed dial as I pulled on the thin shirt I’d brought with me in my glittery handbag.
“Done,” I said when Elias answered.
There was no praise for me. That had stopped years ago. “Stay put. Cleaners are on the way.”
I ended the call and sat on the edge of the side table, waiting while staring at the now dead man beside me. I didn’t wonder what he’d done to have a hit taken out on him or how his family would take the news of his death—that too had stopped years ago.
