Twisted Together - Winters Pepper - Страница 81
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Love and hatred became the same debilitating emotion.
I loved Tess.
I hated her, too.
She’d bound my hands more effectively than the two bastards holding me.
I had no fucking power. None. All because I would give my life to make sure she was never hurt again. It didn’t matter we were out of sight—she was still vulnerable and the perfect leash to make me obey.
My head grew heavy with defeat. I refused to put her in harm’s way. Not for anything.
Looking up, I muttered, “Give me your word you won’t go back for her. Give me an oath you’ll leave her alone, and I’ll go with you willingly.”
I’ll trade my life for hers.
I knew what my future held.
Lynx would live up to his predator name. He chose the feline hunter because of what he liked to do with his victims: play. He loved to drag out their torment. Tearing the tail off the mouse, ripping the ears off a rabbit, draining whatever fight his prey had before snapping their neck. Devouring with no remorse.
I’d witnessed it first-hand. I’d seen the damage he caused. And I would fucking kill him for it.
The man holding my hair glared into my eyes—there was no intelligence but plenty of greed. Suddenly, he let me go, nodding at his men to do the same.
The moment my arms were free, I brought them to my front, rolling my wrists, taunting them with my decision. They eyed me warily, expecting me to strike again. But I’d already played my cards. They knew I wouldn’t fight—not here. Not with Tess so close.
The man muttered, “If you come to Spain with no disobedience. You’ll have our word. Our orders were to bring you—not to hurt anyone more than necessary.” He held out his hand, his lips twisting cruelly. “Shake on it, or I’ll have a man go and collect her—she might be good collateral to keep you in line. Unless your honour will do that for you.”
Fuck. He knew me better than I liked. If I shook his hand, I would honour the agreement. I wouldn’t try and kill them until I’d slaughtered Lynx and dismantled his operation from the inside out.
Protect Tess.
Gritting my teeth, I shoved my hand into his. His dry fingers wrapped around mine, shaking once with a fierce squeeze.
“You don’t touch her. I won’t touch you. You have my word, and that is law.” The phrase I used to say all the time echoed with my past. My law. It was different to the law of society. Mine gave me freedom to be the devil in disguise. It gave me the right for vengeance.
I would be kept alive for now—at least until I arrived in Spain. Lynx would drag this out—toying with me, trying to make me crack with his fucking mind games. I was his prized accomplishment. He’d become the reaper who destroyed Q Mercer.
All the goodness Tess instilled inside me slowly trickled out, leaving my conscience like a dry river bed with nothing but daggers for thoughts.
Ending the handshake, I turned and climbed into the back of the vehicle. I kept my temper hissing in the background of my mind. I would be prepared to strike—but not yet.
A gun pressed against my side as a man settled in the seat beside me. His tanned Spaniard skin melted into the darkness of the evening.
“Lynx will be honoured by your presence, Mercer. I believe he has a night full of festivities.”
My gut churned, but that was the extent of my fear. I refused to let the useless emotion dictate me. Fear wouldn’t stop the future. Fear would only ruin my chance at saving my future.
I embraced livid anger, nursing it, flaming it.
The cars pulled away from the curb; I didn’t look back. I didn’t glance up to our room or try to glimpse a tearful Tess. I didn’t focus on what I was leaving behind. I focused on what I would become in order to survive.
No one said a word as we navigated the streets of Rome, heading toward the private terminal at the airport.
The journey didn’t last long. Too fast.
We pulled up outside a private hangar and a gun prodded my side. I climbed out of the car.
A captor demanded, “Hold out your hands.”
I expected restraints, so I didn’t resist as a cable-tie wrapped around my wrists. Once disabled, they marched me toward a small jet. I glimpsed my plane a few metres away. The white fuselage rested under a cloak of stars and clouds. The gold Q and sparrows on the wingtips looked as if it waved goodbye—sending me off to a battle I probably wouldn’t win.
The air crackled with testosterone. Guns pressed my lower back, shoving me up the plane’s steps. I entered the dark brown interior of the aircraft.
Lowering my head, I narrowed my eyes at the two men standing in the aisle. More men crowded behind me, blocking any escape.
Shit, I was in for more than champagne and soft blankets.
Calm. I felt calm.
Furious. I felt furious.
“Take my warning seriously, you cunts. Every hit you deliver, I’ll repay you a hundred times worse.” Growling low and deep, I added, “Kill me, and I’ll fucking haunt you for eternity.”
Tess.
The love for her no longer had space anymore—it was swamped with lust for murder.
“Lynx told us to bring you in one piece. But he didn’t say you couldn’t have bruises.” The two men in front cracked their knuckles, inching closer. The cramped space of the cabin was a treasonous whore, giving them the upper hand.
There wasn’t much I could do. Hands bound. Honour bound. I would bide my time for vengeance.
The first punch came from behind, knocking me like a ping pong into the awaiting fists in front.
Cheekbone.
Spleen.
Ribcage.
Kneecap.
Fists kept swinging and I had no way to hide or reciprocate.
Grunts filled the cabin as they turned me from human to a piece of exercise equipment—pummelling from all angles.
Blackness stole my vision as a well-aimed fist struck my temple. I collapsed into a chair, breathing hard, tasting blood, hearing the yips and snarls of my inner demons.
Seven men to beat up one who was tied and defenceless.
Seven men who would have no intestines by the time dawn crested.
This was a playground scuffle.
The instant I touched down in Spain the real fun would begin.
*Two hours after capture*
“We’re here.”
The car swung into a private estate hidden down a driveway. The high hedges circling the perimeter acted as a natural fence. The property was nowhere near as big as the Mercer chateau, but it nevertheless housed fifteen rooms, numerous lounges, and at least three dungeons to rent. I’d been offered the use of one with any girl I wanted more than once.
From here it looked quaint and picturesque, with lights glowing warmly from rounded sash windows, and trees swaying in the night-time breeze.
The vehicle came to a stop outside the entrance. Someone wrenched open my car door; leaning in, he cuffed me around the back of the head. Fuck me, I ached. My entire body was bruised, hurting even worse than the gunshot in my thigh.
“Get out, Mercer.”
I hadn’t been cuffed since I was a fucking six years old. I wasn’t about to take it when I was almost thirty.
I couldn’t stop the cold smile stretching my lips.
Grave mistake. Huge mistake.
We were in a completely different country to Tess. My honour didn’t cross borders—I’d kept my vow to go to Spain willingly. But we’d arrived and all promises were over.
Elegantly—or as much as I could with a beat up body—I stepped from the car. The guard moved away, grinning at my obedience. I grinned back. Another man grinned. Fuck, we all grinned at each other.
Fucking pricks.
I struck.
With my bound wrists, it didn’t give me the leverage I wanted, but I managed to splay my hands on either side of his skull and tear. I jerked fast and hard as if I uprooted a tree from dirt. And in a way—that was precisely what I did.
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