Page 23 of Built for Mercy

It took my goddamn breath away.

I set my phone down on the counter and stepped into the steaming shower, streams of water running down my back and easing the tension in my shoulders. Sighing in relief, I was thankful for the distraction from Sophie. How had I let her consume my every thought in a few short weeks? And why wasn’t I trying harder to stop it?

I turned to scrub my face under the hot water, but the instant it touched my aching, angry cock, I felt an orgasm rush through my balls, spreading down my thighs and up the base of my spine.

“Fuck,” I swore, gripping the tip of my dick and jerking it until I milked myself empty, my hand now covered in cum. I looked down at the mess in disbelief and stepped out of the water.Christ.A few kisses from the woman and here I was, acting like a teenager all over again.

I needed to get a fucking grip.

Before I could talk some sense into myself, I opened the glass door and grabbed my phone off the bathroom counter, snapping a quick photo of my messy hand and still-enlarged dick and sending it to Sophie.

Maverick 8:27 PM

You’re not the only one getting off tonight.

Sophie 8:27 PM

Fuck, that’s really hot, Mav.

My heart stuttered. I loved that she had taken to calling me that.

Sophie 8:28 PM

How confident are you that you’ll fit?

I barked out a laugh.

Maverick 8:29 PM

Don’t worry. You’ll make room. XO

I took a deep breath. I couldn’t think about being inside of her. Not tonight, not when I couldn’t have her yet. Especially not after dry-fucking her against a brick wall.

***

I gave two courtesy knocks before kicking in the plain brown door of Victor Chavez’s dingy home, not bothering to announce my arrival. He sat in his tiny living room, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He dropped the brick of cocaine and raised his hands in a defensive gesture when he saw my gun pointed at his head.

“Maverick, my man, what the hell are you doing?” he snapped in his Queens-meets-Spanish-roots accent.

“It’s Mr. Mercer to you,” I snarled, motioning with my gun for him to put any unseen weapons on the table in front of him. He obeyed, and I took a seat across from him without my gun. “I want to know why Sophie fucking Reyes is tracking you.”

I’d left him well enough alone this past month, even though it had been eating at me. But now that I’d given Sophie my word that I would tell her whatever she wanted to know, I needed to find out every piece of information this scrawny little bitch had.

His eyes widened, and—was that a bead of sweat gathering on his receding hairline?—he cleared his throat. “S-sir, it’s not what you think.”

The living room was small enough that I was able to lift one long leg and kick the coffee table into his shins. Chavez grunted and keeled over. “Come on, man, it could be for anything. A couple of pigs interviewed me about her father weeks ago.”

I chewed on this bit of information. I knew the cops had shown up on his doorstep asking questions about Eddie Reyes, which was why I was at his house the night I met Sophie. I asked him for every fucking detail of that meeting, and you know what he told me?They asked if I knew him, and I said yes, a long time ago we were good friends. I was sad to hear he passed and asked if they had found out who killed him. That’s all, my man, I swear to God.

Part of me knew it wasn’t just a routine follow-up on a cold case, but what was I supposed to do? Until Sophie name-dropped Chavez, he was a low priority, a distributor and runner who rarely stepped out of line.

But there was something in the way she spoke of him—with such burning hatred and intense certainty—that now I was rethinking that little story he told me.

And then there was the fact that he was slipping up in his deliveries. My generosity could only go so far.

“Yes, so I’m aware,” I drawled, my tone dripping in deceit. “But after all this time, you don’t find it odd that they justshowed up?” I gave him all of two seconds to answer, but the nervous flicker on his face was all I needed. I kicked the coffee table again and jumped to my feet, looming over him as I put the gun barrel to his temple. Leaning close, I bared my teeth and murmured, “Tell me the truth right fucking now or I’ll slice your ear off, then your fingertips one at a time, before shoving them all down your throat. I’ll do it so fucking slowly you’ll wish I’d just shot you instead.”

I wouldn’t actually kill him; I was leaving that for Sophie, regardless of how she seemed to waffle on the decision.