Mercy (Redemption Reigns MC Book 4) Page 8

  “Okay, okay.” Tonka came to move between the two of them, shooting her a hard look before turning to his VP. “I got this, brother. It’s fine.”

  “She needs to learn her place, brother.”

  “She knows it. Just her place with us would be way different than her place with the Law. And she’s a bit sensitive about her lineage, which we all know how that can feel… right?”

  Shakespeare glared at Tonka before sighing and running a hand over his face, clearly exhausted with the entire situation but being forced to deal with it all. “I guess you’re right. You get a free pass on that one, sweetheart, but don’t make it a habit. We all have our demons.”

  Mercy nodded, letting out a sharp breath. “I’ll watch my words. Don’t poke my demons.”

  “At the rate we’re going, you have a much better chance of getting to poke your own demons than the rest of us.” The VP turned to Tonka. “Make sure she’s better armed too. Thigh holsters fucking suck and no way is she gonna be able to move quickly in that goddamned thing. Get her something better.”

  She watched as he turned to exit the bay, and she shifted her weight. It hadn’t dawned on her that she’d been standing, knee-locked, and ready to spring into action if need be, but it was what it was.

  “And, Mercy?” the man called from over his shoulder. “The only leather that’ll be around here is HR and Bishops Reign — I’m sure Tonka at least told you who they are?” She nodded. “If you see a cut that isn’t ours, you shoot first and ask questions later.”

  With that, the vice president left the garage bay, and she sighed in relief. Turning, she found Tonka taking her in, his eyes alight with something she wasn’t sure of. Attraction? Frustration? Anger? She didn’t know. She wanted to ask, explore the thoughts passing his expression faster than she could imagine, but he didn’t give her the time. Instead he lunged forward, his hand reaching for her face, and pulling her mouth to his.

  He kissed with fervor, deeply, and she let him. Mercy felt herself melting into him as he did, the stress of everything around her disappearing as quickly as it had come. She no longer cared that they were standing in the garage of a deadman, nor did she care about the impending doom that lingered over her head. All she cared about was Tonka’s mouth, his tongue warring with hers, and she moaned softly as he pulled away.

  “You are the sexiest, strongest bitch I’ve ever seen. There is no fear in you, hell, no self-preservation, even. And the way you stand up for what you believe in, while stupid, is fucking amazing.”

  Mercy’s chest rose and fell, her head swimming. She searched for something clever to say, maybe a one-liner to wave away the things the man before her said, but she came up empty. Luckily he saved her from it.

  “Do you want food now? Or do you want to take stock of the shop, and get it the way you need it to work?” he asked her, and she peered at him, annoyed that he could so quickly jump into business mode while her entire being was on fire begging for more. “Working here won’t be the worst way for you to spend your time, Stang.”

  His use of the pet name for her brought a small grin to her lips and it took her a moment to realize he thought she was going to fight him on the bike work. Of course, she wanted to, but Shakespeare had brokered no argument with his instructions. Besides, she could use some grease therapy anyway.

  “I’m not going to fight the club on this,” she told him, turning in a small circle and taking in the space. It wasn’t bad. Actually, it was pretty spacious, offering more vehicle bays than hers had. The mess was going to take a bit to clean up, though she hoped one of the prospects that had been promised could help with that. And she’d need to take an inventory of tools - what was left, what was worth its salt, and what she needed to buy. Not to mention she’d have to pull the bikes in and find out what they all needed. Idly she wondered how Lock’s bookkeeping skills were. Since she didn’t have a hand in taking the bikes in, she didn’t know what was wrong, and it would take way more time than she’d like to go over each and every one of them with a proverbial fine-tooth comb.

  “I’m going to need food,” she said, knowing she needed to eat. And Shakespeare was right, because she most definitely needed different clothes. No way could she work in what she was wearing, and the damned thigh holster was causing some serious chub rub; that was anything but enjoyable. “I need to change. And I need to know what all I have here to work with. Honestly, I’m not even sure where to start.”

  Tonka nodded and put a hand to the small of her back, gently guiding her toward the bay doors. “I’ll get a couple prospects in here; they can clean up, and make the starting line a little clearer for you. In the meantime, we’ll get food and clothes.”

  “Do they have to be in that order? I think I’d prefer clothes first, then food.”

  The answering rumble of laughter that came from Tonka’s chest was refreshing. It sounded like everything good in the world, and she desperately wished she could bottle it up. Then she could open the jar when she was having a bad day, just to hear it, and let it fill a room.

  She walked with the man toward his bike, avoiding the bikers currently cleaning the mess where Lock’s body had been not that long ago. Each wore a leather cut, though none complete with the Hells Redemption rockers. And there were an awful lot of them. Static Law never had more than one or two prospects, and on quick count, Mercy could see at least six.

  “Are they all HR prospects? There’s so many.”

  “No,” he told her as he flung a leg over his bike and handed her a helmet. “They’re both ours and Bishops Reign.”

  “Together?”

  “Big problems lead to more bodies needed. Our ranks have been hit lately and we need all hands on deck. Plus, now that Pres and Titan are married, it’s sort of understood we’re brother clubs… or some shit. I don’t know how the two of them do it, and don’t really want to either.”

  Once again, she was filled with so many questions. There were so many things she felt needed explained, so foreign. It was a world she’d always known so much about. But this world, the one where Hells Redemption and Bishops Reign were not only allies, but married, was so improbable. She wanted to know how it worked, and more, how Poet got all the men’s respect. Sure, Tonka had explained the reasoning behind her being president of HR, but how did the men of BR feel about it?

  You’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto, she thought as she climbed on the back of Tonka’s bike once more. Like before, she placed a hand on his waist as he took off, leading them away from the garage.

  9

  Chapter Nine

  “Really, Tonka?”

  “What? You need clothes.”

  “Well yeah,” Mercy replied, waving her arms dramatically around her. “But you took me to the mall?”

  The other man merely shrugged. “Where else do you take a woman who needs clothes? I mean, I figured you needed more than whatever I could scrounge up from the sweeties.”

  “Ugh,” she sounded, unable to help herself. She put her hand up to stop whatever defense he was about to start with. “Don’t worry, I’m not one of those women. I won’t give anyone a hard time about club ass, but I still don’t like it. And, while I hate the mall, I hate them more, so I appreciate the thought in bringing me here instead.”

  Mercy started walking toward the double sliding glass doors, not turning to see if Tonka was following her. He was, she knew. Not only because she could hear his boots as he walked, but because she could feel his eyes on her. They caused a heat hotter than the New Mexico sun to lick against her skin, and she enjoyed the fact he stared at her ass.

  “Our sweeties aren’t like that,” Tonka said as they walked into the food court, the massive aroma of cheap fast food assaulting her nose. “I mean, they are,” he said in answer to her pointed look, “but they’re not. Poet’s got rules.”

  “Oh?” she asked, genuinely curious, though not stopping. The man had brought her to the damned mall for clothes, and she was on a mission. Until she realized
she didn’t have her wallet, that is. “Fuck. We have to hit the clubhouse before here. I don’t have my wallet - it’s in my backpack.”

  “Nah the club’s got it,” he told her, turning her back toward the long corridor. Before she could argue he added, “I knew you wouldn’t like the girls bringing you clothes. Told VP the same. He said to use the club credit card. Seems everything you need during your pleasant stay in Socorro, is on us.”

  Mercy knew it was futile to argue, though she would pay them back… at least for the clothes. For the shop items and everything else, well, that was pay. She knew her worth when it came to engines, and she refused to settle with working for free.

  “Tell me more about the rules for the sweeties.”

  She’d tried to make it sound nonchalant, but she knew she failed miserably. He’d brought it up, and now she wanted to know. And if she sounded like a jealous girlfriend, well, so be it, she supposed.

  Refusing to look at him as they walked, she made her way to the only store she knew didn’t completely suck, though the thought was relative. Hot Topic used to be a neat goth slash alternative store, once upon a time, but that was a long time ago. Gone were the days of the chain link fence doors, the wrought-iron decorations. Now the walls were brick, the music having morphed from rock to whatever the hell they called the crap on the speaker overhead. But, it was better than her other options, so she sighed and went in.

  There she made quick work of grabbing jeans, the size she knew she wore and wouldn’t have to try on, as she waited for Tonka to speak. Finally, he did.

  “The sweeties aren’t merely bedwarmers. Poet did away with that. They’re all to be respected, and to show respect. They’re sort of like … I don’t know, female friends with a penchant for sex.”

  A wry laugh burst from her lips. “A penchant for sex… great.”

  “I know, probably not the best definition of who the sweeties are. I’m a dude, sorry,” he said, extending a black tank top with a snake coiled in gray on the front. “This one’s cool. Anyway. The brothers still sleep with the girls — that can’t and won’t change, regardless of where you go or what club you visit. It’s the way of the world. Some days… some days there is nothing better after a shit day, one full of blood and violence, than coming back to a warm bed, and a warm body to remember you made it through the day.

  “Poet did ensure some safeguards though. No brother is to fuck around with a sweetie when he’s married. In her eyes, a brother’s wife is a treasure, someone to show the upmost respect for because she’s the one taking the brunt of his shit. She sits at home and worries, afraid the man she loves won’t come home. It’s her who holds her head up high while she’s washing blood stains and fixing bullet holes, so it’s she who should be respected.”

  “That almost sounds like a speech you’ve memorized.”

  Mercy took another shirt the man handed her, this one a distressed T-shirt with a Ghost band logo on it. It was almost comical that she was in this store, with this big-ass biker, who was currently thrusting clothes he thought were cool at her. And his taste didn’t suck. She liked the things he was giving her, which meant either he was getting to know her too well, or they just liked the same thing.

  Tonka chuckled. “I’ve heard it a time or two. Never took much stock into it, but she’s not wrong. But even if I thought she was, it isn’t a war I’d try to bring to table.”

  “Why do I need these?” she asked as the man handed her a package of Nightmare Before Christmas socks. Sure, she needed socks, but what an odd choice, especially for him.

  “Because they’re fucking awesome.”

  Mercy sighed as they brought their choices to the cash register, not bothering to try anything on. She never did. It was annoying and time consuming and not worth the effort. Plus she shopped there often enough, albeit online, that she knew it would all fit. The jeans were some of her favorites, and easy to work in. The shirts, well, were shirts. They’d all be fine.

  After all the items were rung up, she turned away and let Tonka hand over his plastic to pay for them, gritting her teeth. Man, she really didn’t like it. But, she had no choice, and it was too late now. Especially since there was one more shop she had to go to. Despite the fact the man had seen her shirtless, and had his hand down her pants, the thought of him in Victoria’s Secret made her squirm. Again, she had no choice.

  “Got everything you need?” he asked as he approached her, several bags in hand. She tried to reach for them but he turned away, clearly refusing to let her carry any of them.

  “There’s one more store I need to hit,” she told him, looking to the right and the left, searching for the bright pink of the store in question. It wasn’t hard to find and she set off toward it, swallowing her self-consciousness down. Mercy refused to let him know it made her feel a certain way to have him shop for delicates with her.

  Delicates, my ass. Just get in, get your underwear and a bra or two, and be on your way.

  “Oh,” Tonka breathed as they entered the lingerie store, looking around at the scraps of lace and colors. “Oh.”

  Spinning on a heel, she turned to face him, ignoring the color she knew was rising on her own cheeks. “Yes. Girls wear panties and shit. And as much as I’d love to just go commando, I’ve got entirely too much of an ass for crap like that. Now. Let’s be all adult-like, and get some underthings, and leave, please.”

  The larger man’s lips pulled into a broad smile, revealing perfect teeth and an amazing smile. Desire bloomed inside her once more and she shook her head, ignoring it. She busied herself with moving along the walls, grasping panties and a bra, before making her way to the register. When she turned, she found Tonka wasn’t with her.

  “Shit.”

  Mercy glanced around, searching for the man in question. There was no way she could actually lose him - the mountain of a man was easily found everywhere he went. And yet, she couldn’t find him. She backtracked through the store, only to find him squatting in front of a drawer. Large hands passed over different fabrics, before settling on one and dropping it into a small, black mesh bag.

  Where the hell had he gotten a shopping bag?

  “What in the world are you doing?”

  “Getting the things you need, so we can leave, right?”

  “You don’t even know my sizes, dummy.”

  “Stang, I watched what you picked up the first couple times.”

  “No way do I need all that.” She waved at the bag, which had more items than she’d even looked at in the store. Blacks and grays, silks, satins, there were so many different options the man had chosen. She could see a bra with rhinestones decorating the straps, as well. “And when the hell would I wear that?”

  “They’re pretty,” the man told her, as if that explained everything, before grasping the straps and making his own way toward the register. She trailed behind him, sighing as he picked up first one lotion, and then another. He glanced back at her, almost in question, and she stopped him before he made a decision.

  “This one.” She snatched a sunset-colored tube from the counter. Amber Romance, her favorite. Tonka smiled and threw the matching body scrub and spray in the lot as well. The fact that he was so easily able to maneuver the store shopping bag, and the already purchased items, was almost impressive. Even more so when he snatched the measly items she held in her hand and threw them in with his other chosen things as well.

  “You’re exhausting,” Mercy told him, half meaning it. The New Mexico heat had taken its toll on her, and, mixed with shopping, something she hated, and lack of enough sleep, she was tired in general. A nap sounded phenomenal, but so did food.

  “You can say that, but you know you’re having fun with me.”

  The thing was, he was right. Just like the night before, she was enjoying her time with him. She was starting to think it wasn’t a situational thing either. It didn’t seem to matter what they were doing, so long as he was around, the world didn’t seem so dark. Their banter was refr
eshing — a man she wasn’t afraid of, regardless of his size or what he did, and his hobbies. A man who wasn’t scared of either hurting her feelings, or not giving a shit. He hadn’t gotten mad when she’d stubbornly stood up to Shakespeare at the shop; on the contrary, he’d been attracted to her because of it. It was so fucking nice to not feel like an alien, an outcast. Which was what she’d been for longer than she liked. She wasn’t the womanly normal back home, and it was intriguing being in a place where life was so different.

  Mercy found herself wanting to learn more, wanting to get to know the people of the club. She wanted to ask them questions and find out more information. She liked the idea that women could be strong, be powerful, and it was neither a hindrance or something to be frowned upon. Maybe, just maybe, if she could make it out alive on the other side of all this when it was over… maybe she’d stay a little while. Maybe the club would let her continue to run Lock’s shop. Hell, she’d pay business dues, if they required them. Plus she had enough in savings — she could buy the garage if she really wanted to put down roots somewhere.

  Entirely too many possibilities swirled and tangled in her thoughts. She’d never had so many options before. You don’t now, either, her head so helpfully reminded her. And she sighed, an encompassing, over it all, sigh.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  Mercy’s head snapped to Tonka, surprised to find them in the center of the food court once more. She’d apparently been running on autopilot, so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even realized they’d left the lingerie store.

  “There’s so much I want to do today, and I feel like I have a timer over my head, just waiting to beep.”

  “Well, what else do you want to do today?”

  “I want to eat. And I’d love to take a nap. And change. And go back to the garage. So many different things,” she told him, though leaving out the majority of her inner musings. Revealing the rest would give too much of herself away, or so it felt like. And that, she wasn’t ready for. Not now, maybe not ever.