Mercy F*uck (5 page)

“Was aiming for him.”

“Well, your aim sucks!”

“Go on inside, honey, he’s my kill.”

“No can do,” she said sliding her piece back inside her holster that was hidden on her right side. Doing this caused her tits to strain in her top which I found seriously hot. 
Don’t get hard now, idiot, oops, too late!
“Because
I’m
going to kill him.”

“Did two years ‘cause of him!”

“Not my problem, Remo!”

“Can I, at least, watch you do it?”

Sneering at me she asked, “Do I want to know what you do for a living, honey badger?”

“Honey—? Christ, you’re mean. You’re lucky I find it adorable. I bought Foxy out.” Sharing this did not make her happy. Her dad, Drake, worked for Foxy back in the day. Her dad was her hero and could do no wrong in her eyes. The bond business was feast or famine, especially before the internet. When Drake worked for Foxy he barely made enough to support his large family. But the guy loved his job and busted his ass every time he went out. His eldest daughter shared his work ethic and followed his work closely. She claimed it was only because she wanted him safe. But I knew her and she also wanted her dad to get paid quickly so she leaned on her regulars, passing intel along to him. I was lucky enough to see him in action a few times myself and her old man had flare, the same flare she has.

After losing her, I had no clue what I wanted to do, my life was in a tailspin. Without a degree, no one would hire me so I went to Foxy and asked for a job. Drake had already found other work because he needed benefits and Foxy needed someone to fill the gap. The timing had been perfect.

Plus, if it came down to fists, I wouldn’t go to jail for it because it was part of the gig. Being paid to throw down didn’t suck for a guy with a temper like mine. I’d always wondered if she knew, but it was clear Drake and Foxy upheld the same rule with her as they did with me. It was also clear she wasn’t impressed and I refused to look into why that bothered me.

“Figures,” she says, flicking the cigarette, she somehow managed to hold onto during the gun fight.

“Remo, you have kids to raise,” she called across the street. “Here’s some free advice: Maybe consider a life that doesn’t include crime. It’s just a suggestion! Now haul ass outta here, I’ll handle this.”

“Make him bleed, Drew,” the guy said just as bullets riddled the Impala.

“For fuck’s sake, Remo! What did I just say?”

“That wasn’t me!” he yelled, and out of instinct I yanked her down on top of me once again.

“Who else hates you, because it’s obvious I’m not the only one, cocktard.”

The feel of her on top of me scrambled my brain and all I could say was, “I have enemies.” Coughing to dislodge my spleen from my throat didn’t diminish how good it felt to have her near me again. She was all around me and all I could think about. Drew, however, was not suffering the same problem.

“I can see why,” she says pushing off of me to stand and once again firing blind.

“What in the hell are you doing!”

“Providing cover you, jackhole!”

“Why do you even have a gun?” I shout at her.

“Uh… because
I can
?”

“You can’t shoot out in the open, Drew!” I chastise her. “You could kill an innocent bystander!”

“First, there are no bystanders, innocent or otherwise, Axle. I checked on my way out. Second, I managed to survive nine years without anyone shooting at me and that streak went out the window when you showed up. Third,” she announces but says nothing.

I ask her, “What’s the third thing, Drew?”

“Did you get bigger?” she mumbles to herself before realizing she’d done it.

“In all the right places too,” I grin down at her.

“Why Foxy’s?” she asks suddenly.

“When I dropped out he’s the only one who’d hire me.”

“You dropped out? You only had one year left. Why would you piss that away?”

“Gunfire,” I remind her. “We can do this later.”

Uncaring of the danger she shakes her head and says, “No. We do this now. So you quit school. What did your parents have to say that about that?”

“Things changed after you left. Getting my degree for someone else didn’t suit so, I quit. When they found out, they disowned me,” I shrug easily refusing to recall the day my parents wrote me off.

“Disowned you,” she says sadly and I watch her face soften but in a blink, it was gone.

“Haven’t spoken to them in nine years.”

“Well,” she huffs crossing her arms over her perfect chest. “No one ever said you were smart, needle dick.”

“Someone did,” I say ignoring her nickname and moving in closer. Leaning down so she could hear me I whisper, “I specifically remember someone saying it often. Oh that’s right, Princess Frost Bite. It was
you
.”

Snapping out of it, she growls up at me, “Get in your piece of shit Impala and bounce, fuck nugget.”

“It’s not a piece of shit, Danny DeVito,” I argue, uncaring of the danger. She hit a sore spot and I wasn’t having it. “You loved this car. Now it’s got bullet holes in it!”

“You did not just call me—My offer expires in,” firing a round she warns, “Three,” firing again, “Two,” then staring me down and firing blind she growls, “One.”

This was getting out of control and yet I was still rock hard. The woman wasn’t going to back down and secretly, I loved it. However, she would continue to hurl ridiculous names at me, while shooting into the dark, and holding her ground until the other guy died or quit. It didn’t matter to her that the other guy also had a gun.

Because she was too focused on me to consider him a threat.

This meant I needed to flip the script.

Once I seized control and the moment she realized she’d lost it, Drew would go apeshit. She’d also be difficult to contain (without gunfire) and would definitely fight back.

Please fight back
…

Sliding the cuffs out of my back pocket, I come up behind her and slap one wrist before snagging her piece, tucking it away and securing her right hand quickly. “Are you high?” she screamed trying to deflect but was too late.

With her thrashing in my arms, I struggle with the door because I’m too focused on being gentle with her to get her inside.  When a bullet nearly takes her face off, I said fuck gentle and shoved her in hard with my foot. Crashing into the door, her face absorbed the impact and I winced.

Oops
.

Jumping in and gunning it, I flew down the streets until we were far enough away to breathe easy. Glancing over at her, I felt like a dick for launching her as hard as I did but if I said I was sorry, she’d only adjust herself and mule kick me. Drew didn’t like being babied, I didn’t like bleeding and I wasn’t looking to total my ride.

“I’m not high,” I comment several minutes later trying to break the ice. “And if you don’t answer my questions I’m taking you in for skipping out on your bond.”
See? In total control
…

“It’s like that?” she asks quietly while staring out of her window.

“It’s like that,” I confirm making sure she knows who’s in charge here.

Then, giving me the most beautiful smile I’ve seen in years, she bites her plump lip and says, “Okay, Axle, let’s play.”

It’s official, Foxy was right.

I didn’t know the new Drew.

But I sure as hell looked forward to figuring her out.

“She’s beautiful,” I say with so much excitement I nearly buckled.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “She is.”

Sometimes he said things that I swore were intended for me but I could never be sure. I was also too afraid to ask only to find out I’m wrong. So I played it off but I didn’t play off how stoked I was for this car. “Whose is it?” I ask jumping in to sit on the torn front seat.

“Ours.”

“Huh?”

“She’s ours,” he said draping himself over me with his elbows on the hood. “We’re gonna fix her up.”

“We are?”

“Yeah,” he grinned perfectly. “Together.”

My parents had five daughters, which meant money was scarce.

As the oldest, I saw their struggles and helped to hide it from my sisters. My dad busted his ass working no less than two jobs, seven days a week to provide for us. To make sure my mom could stay home and raise us without daycare.

Fact: Never, not once, did he complain.

Though we didn’t have much, it was okay because my parents were the fucking greatest. As a kid, I didn’t care for sports or academics. I loved playing ‘restaurant’ in the basement and serving my family.

I begged from age ten on to be allowed to get a job. I wanted to help my dad, I wanted to do my part.

Turns out, I had to wait three more years and even then neither parent was pleased when I didn’t do what other teenagers did by babysitting or a paper route.

With my eyes on the prize, I got hired for my first job washing dishes at the local dive bar after school three days a week. Mom was far from happy; but my dad, after a two-day ass kissing bender, had talked her down.

By sixteen, my mom ceased bitching about it since I was practically running the place. Bars, for some weird reason, were my thing, they made sense to me without my trying. So at seventeen when I graduated from high school, I didn’t even walk with my class at commencements because I’d rather be making money than pretend I liked the humans I spent four years with. The owners never cared that I was underage; they only cared that I made them money. Plus, they knew my dad and Foxy, who vouched for me. Odds are good the owners feared them too, but whatever.

The day after I turned eighteen I met Axle. He came in with a group of his friends, took one look at me and sat at my bar. He had a few years on me and I liked that he did. Guys my age were walking talking masturbators.

Located two blocks off campus, we stayed busy from open to close. College kids filled the place but so did execs and locals. Bottom line, the bar had the best location for what it provided.

Me.

Okay fine, it wasn’t
all
about me. The food was good too, but I did have regulars. As in, dozens and they paid well, which allowed me to provide for my family and still live on my own.

Like any job, there were unspoken rules.

The big one was, don’t get attached to the customers, especially romantically.

I followed this rule to the letter.

Until he introduced himself and I broke the number one rule by engaging him.

Working in a bar meant taking pervs in stride, but he wasn’t like the others. First, he barely drank and second, he made eye contact with my face and not my tits. He was smart, funny, and very protective of me. But to everyone else he was rough, abrupt, and possessed a hair-trigger.

As he began to frequent regularly, I found out he worked part-time at the garage down the road and toward a general degree at Wayne State. Axle was promised a cushy job upon graduation but the stipulation was, earning that piece of paper.

Though Axle came from money, he openly shunned it, preferring to channel his inner bad boy instead.

He channeled it like a fucking pro too.

Dark menacing eyes, stubble along his strong jaw, long dark shaggy hair, flannel shirt, broken-in Levis with Docs on his massive feet, he owned it. Add to that he was extremely tall, lumbered when he walked and possessed a vibe that warned anyone stepping to him they would pay in pain.

Which meant he had a thing about fist fights.

As in he loved them.

Needless to say, I instantly fell for everything about Axle. I was his biggest fan. Who watched him fight, cheered him on, and to keep him close, I slyly asked him to fix my Jeep.