Page 17 of Rolling 75 (The Noire Brothers #1)
MERCY
E verything about that was overkill.
But also … so damn hot.
He snapped. Based on a misunderstanding of epic proportions.
At first, I thought it was simply some domineering Noire posturing, and I did agree to let him say I was his with this fake engagement ruse. So, I went with it. Confused but enjoying the serendipitous detour more than I could have fathomed.
He ogled me with so much hunger, but before I could analyze that to death, his mouth was on mine. With a champagne toast above all freaking toasts.
Ryker is at his best when he’s unhinged. Most of the world would balk at that, but it’s what I’ve always admired about him. He doesn’t hold back. He doesn’t waffle. He doesn’t hide. When he makes a decision—crazy as those are at times—he’s all in.
There’s something beautiful and authentic about a person who isn’t afraid to feel whatever they’re feeling. I’ve never been great at that. Maybe because I struggle with clarity in my own mind. Everything is always muddled for me.
The past week or so of him conducting himself with so much restraint has been unnerving. So, this was unexpected. But not unwelcome.
Until … Viper .
Reaching for Ryker’s hand once his homicidal threat has concluded, I garner his attention as our palms clasp together.
“Let’s go,” he demands.
Knowing better than to protest, I dab the leftover French 75 droplets from my mouth and chin, grab my crossbody purse, and rise to meet him.
But since there is some vital information missing from this shit show, I lean into him and keep my voice low.
“On the other side of Vander is his brother Everett, whom I believe you know. He’ll be getting a tattoo tonight.
And beside him is Wade, whom you also know, with his new girlfriend, Nancy.
They were hoping to check out Magie Noire later.
After I finished my drink with Amy and went back to the penthouse. ”
True to form, he is unapologetic. His gaze sails over the three Floros brothers before docking on Vander and Amy. “In the future, I will be included in any plans you make with Mercy. Gentry will reach out about Magie Noire.”
As I mouth, Sorry , to Amy, he tows me away to the storage room, lifts a hatch to an out-of-service dumbwaiter that has a false back, and guides me into one of their concealed passageways.
Once we’re scurrying toward the penthouse, I allow my outrage to manifest. “Did you seriously threaten a guy’s life over J?germeister and a misguided notion that I would go to Magie Noire with someone I’d just met, after I’d made a commitment to you?”
“A commitment?” His tone is dry as he stalks forward, seamlessly taking each turn through the original bricked tunnels, lit only by sconces. “You mean your contractual obligation?”
“Yep,” I snap, pissed that his strides are so much longer and I’m forced to keep pace in heels. “The contract. The one that states that I work at La Lune Noire as a lawyer who is permitted to take on a few other cases. Everett is going to be one of those clients.”
“That’s not fucking happening.” His jaw clenches with that response, but he manages to suppress any other signs of his frustration. “In the contract, it also explicitly states that I will do whatever is necessary to ensure you are healthy, safe, and provided for. I make the rules.”
Rigid and domineering, as always, but where the fuck is the passionate man from minutes ago?
I can still feel his lips on mine, his hand in my hair, the bubbles swishing with every lick of his tongue.
His lethal command to open will echo in the crevices of my mind for the rest of my days.
I was so mesmerized by his possessiveness; I think I would have dropped to my knees right there in the speakeasy. Feminism be damned.
“We’re not friends, Mercy.”
That certainly wasn’t an activity we did as friends.
There’s a tiny voice in my head asking, Why the hell not?
Which is valid because that was explosive and obviously mind-mushing.
Those thoughts will only make this situation infinitely more complicated, but my body is buzzing, incapable of banishing that … that … whatever the hell that was.
Emotionally, this is a lit fuse on a powder keg. Maybe I should back off, let us both cool down. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be comfortable around him without understanding what this is all about.
So, I poke the beast. “That display back there was embarrassing and over the line, even in regard to your stupid contract. I’m not a fucking child who needs someone to intervene so I don’t get a tummy ache.”
“Big J?germeister fan now, huh? It doesn’t upset your stomach?” He seethes as he blasts through the dark corridor, stopping at a narrow stairwell to nudge me to go before him. “Maybe I don’t know you anymore.”
“Maybe you don’t.” I tromp up the creaking stairs with heavy, petulant footfalls—not my most poised response. “We’re not friends, right?”
“We are most definitely not fucking friends, are we, Viper?” He sneers the nickname as though he were spewing venom along with it, which illuminates our issue.
That was too close to home for me. Too intimate. And he felt it. Which answers my questions and probably a lot of his.
My tone softens as I navigate what appears to be the endless Statue of Liberty staircase, shoved into a cubby hole. “It’s been a long time since you called me that.”
“That’s how you’d prefer it, right, Merce?” The curtness in his reply echoes off the brick and wood and plaster, amplifying his disdain. “And by now, we’ve established that I do everything the way you fucking dictate.”
That effectively decimates my compassion for whatever pain he’s in.
I stop mid-stairway-to-hell and turn to face him, unwilling to budge an inch.
“You’re delusional. I’m here because of your hostile takeover.
” While one hand grips the railing, my other arm becomes as contemptuous as my lava-filled veins, flailing all over the place to paint a vivid picture.
“The plan I dictated was the one where I got to live my life on my own terms. To disappear. I cared about you enough not to fight this, to go along with this so you could get closure or something. I don’t freaking know. ”
Swatting away my ire, I twist my body so half is headed to anywhere but here, but the other half is drawn to him, like a moth with a death wish.
“I’m too worn out to deal with all this confusing bullshit with you.
” Even I’m aware I should keep this final nugget to myself, but my mouth is a runaway train. “One text to Ty, and I’ll be gone.”
He shocks me, abandoning his resentment to poke holes in the one speck of vulnerability slipped in there. “What’s confusing?”
Fuck. This is the place I never wanted to be. The hope in his eyes. The torment in mine. The divide that can never be bridged.
“All I want is to be the man who builds you back up.”
That sentence won’t stop lingering, urging me to reach for the impossible. I’d love to tell him I want that, too, but I can’t.
“What’s confusing, Ryker, is that there are layers here I don’t want to peel back. Some might feel good, but others will obliterate anything we’ve ever had. And I don’t want to lose you.”
He scoffs, his baby blues freezing into glacial icebergs from the sense of betrayal he’s harboring.
“I find that hard to believe since you took off on me, refused contact, and just admitted to wishing you were still gone.” His rumbling tenor rises to create a surround sound effect for our stairwell spat, but to his credit, he does a damn good job not completely losing it.
“You’ve got one foot out the door with your thumb on speed dial, but you don’t want to lose me? ”
My palm crawls to my heart, fruitlessly trying to quell the hammering. “It’s not that simple.”
His teeth grind. “Then make it simple.”
“Like you are?” I hurl an accusatory hand toward him. “With whatever this bullshit is? What was that down there, pissing on me in front of your den of villains? Protection? Attraction? Staking a claim so word would get back to Martina? Or something else?”
Why did I ask? I can’t do this. It can’t matter.
He shakes his head in disbelief, hands throttling the railing at his sides.
“I’m not the one being vague, Merce. You’re refusing to open your eyes.
And for a brief minute down there, you saw it.
You felt something—fuck if I know what, but it was there.
Until you shut it down because I seemed too attached. ”
My answer bursts out of me as if my soul was sharing it. “I don’t want to be attached to anyone, and that’s never going to change.”
“Wow.” He pauses, gaping at me in sheer … disappointment. “You’re just gonna let him win like that?”
That was a spear to the chest—a blow I’ve felt a thousand times, but never from Ryker. And so much of what I’ve held at bay pours out of me. Anger and pain and hollowness.
“You don’t get to fucking do that. To determine what winning or losing is for me.
I’m the one who was on that floor.” I pound my chest as enraged tears stream over my cheeks.
“I’m the one who was kicked and punched so many times that I lost consciousness, only to regain it and realize it still wasn’t fucking over.
I’m the one who spent months recovering, undergoing surgeries to fix what he broke, in so much pain that I couldn’t hold my baby. Wishing I would just. Fucking. Die.”
Moving backward a few stairs, I perch on the edge of one—too weak to stand for these bone-deep confessions.
I dry my face with my suit jacket and calm my breathing to squeak out the rest. “I’m the one with scars that are a forever reminder of the choices I made.
Waking up isn’t even a win because I am still on that godforsaken floor. ”
Those icy eyes thaw and brim with so much heartache that it pierces me further as he climbs a step toward me. “Let me be there with you. Let me take it.”