Page 21 of Stockholm (Angel of Mercy #1)

The Keeper

F uck, this is getting ridiculous .

I adjust myself and tuck my cock into my waistband because I don’t have time to handle this shit, and head to the kitchen, where I’m surprised to see Jesse’s mussed hair rummaging in the cupboards. He’s shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips to show off his full-back dragon tattoo.

A tattoo that’s now criss-crossed with red scratches.

“Damn, you two aren’t wasting any time are you.”

“Wasting time on what? We’re doing exactly what we want to do.” He throws an impatient look over his shoulder, knowing where this conversation is headed.

“I don’t know, Jesse. What’s your plan with him? Bo was not supposed to be here. We didn’t account for him.”

He turns, eyes lit up for a fight. “So? I’ve got Bo handled. I’m not taking him back.”

He looks wild, not exactly a strange occurrence, but still something I need to monitor. As if I need anything else on my plate. “Because obviously I need to trust that you can stick to a plan. If this goes wrong we are well and truly fucked, Jess.”

He rolls his eyes like a petulant teenager, and it pisses me off. At thirty-six, there’s enough of a gap between us that I can either feel like a brother to Jesse or closer to a dad. Depends on where he’s at mentally.

Undeniably, Jesse is a huge asset to our family’s organization, Mercy , since he needs an outlet for the violent fire that sometimes bubbles over in him.

Being a contract killer helps him focus those urges, so he has somewhere to put that frenzied energy when he has a mission to do.

His passion for helping people who’ve been victimized by human trafficking is shared by all of us in Mercy.

It’s a necessity. Yes, we’re all making our living this way but it’s because we all hate the fucking cowards who traffic so much.

So, yeah. He’s a great hitman. But that same chaotic passion does sometimes mean he has a tendency to fixate .

“Any chance this little tryst isn’t going to last?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen island. “He might be pissed if, you know, you kidnap him and hold him captive and then lose interest.”

Instead of getting upset like I think he will, a lazy smile creeps up his face as he gazes unfocused at the counter in front of him.

“No. This isn’t like that. I know we didn’t plan on him coming, but I couldn’t just not bring him.

I couldn’t get one night and then think about it for the rest of my fucking life. ”

I listen, and don’t judge. Sure, he might be messy and a little over the top, but Jesse still knows how to love stronger than anyone I know.

“You can’t forget that he’s your captive here.

He could be pretending, Jess. This could be a survival method for him, right?

To make you attached so you’ll treat him better or let him go. ”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. This is all real, baby. Oh, and he’s really pissed that you spit on Emma, so maybe don’t do that shit again in front of him.”

I scoff. “I’ll do worse, and he’ll deal with it. Don’t forget what we’re here for.”

He bites his lip, leaning over the island on his crossed arms to look up at me, a mischievous grin on his face. “So what’s up? What’s your plan? I can already tell you don’t fucking hate her like you thought you would. You don’t think she was involved?”

I contemplate that for a moment. “No, I don’t think she knows anything. I think she’s being honest about that.”

He studies me. “You don’t want to keep her.”

Wrong. “I very much want to keep her. She’s still useful.

We might adjust what she can do for us, that’s all.

It’s still going to drive him fucking crazy that we have his little angel here, and he’ll have to think about what we’re doing with her.

The thought will make him insane, and after we’re done torturing him with maybe, some videos?

Photos? We’ll wait till it stops being fun torturing him and you can make it as slow of a death as you want. ”

Jesse’s eyes are bright with thoughts of what our revenge will feel like. “I love the sound of that.”

I imagine Eric’s face when I send him proof of Emma begging me to fuck her and can’t help but grin.

I let another three days pass with no contact, no visits to her room. Food is slid in only when she showers or sleeps. To compensate for my need to keep eyes on her, I spend all my free time in the office with the camera feed open.

I want to watch it happen, her slow descent from fearing me to waiting for me to show up. I want to watch her reaction as she realizes it’s happening, to witness her emotional outbursts.

I need her to break. Just a little.

She’s so downtrodden from a life of purity teachings and being sheltered, that I have to let some of that start to fracture before I can get under her skin.

Her repressed little head will fight tooth and nail against the feelings she has when I’m touching her the way I want to, thinking she’s bad, disloyal.

I can’t have that. I want her absolutely begging for me to degrade that sweet little body of hers. As soon as she does, I’ll give her exactly what she asks for.

And then I’ll give Eric the video of it happening. He can choke to death on the fact that his puritan bullshit with Emma has been erased away, and replaced with my hands all over every inch of his fucking angel.

For the millionth time this week, I feel myself getting hard at the thoughts of what she’ll let me do to her, my beautiful captive.

The first time I fist my hand in her blonde locks and fuck her polite little mouth until I’ve stolen all of the air from her lungs.

What it might look like when Jesse and I make her take both of us at once.

I bet she’s never even imagined something like that. Thankfully, she has me now to show her what she’s been missing out on.

My fantasy is interrupted by another round of her banging on her door. She’s been doing it a lot today. Yelling at the corner she incorrectly thinks the camera is hidden in that she needs different clothes.

I rather like the dresses she has, and in this house it’s what I want that matters.

She goes on for a few minutes and I watch like a hawk as she wears herself out. Her forehead leans against the door, her hands pressed against the wood on either side of her head.

The audio barely picks up her words, they’re so quiet. A direct contrast from the shouting of the last few days.

“Please, someone come talk to me. Noah, can you hear me?”

She’s asking for me. This is progress. This is a good sign.

I push away from the desk and walk to her door, listening for a moment and then move the deadbolt locks and push it open.

She stands just a few feet away, and I spot the spark in her eye when she sees me. I wonder if she realizes it’s there.

She’s happy to see me. “You came. You were listening?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

She rolls her bottom lip under her teeth and steps back as I shut the door and turn to her. Her eyes dart around, then land back on me. “Thank you.”

I cross my arms, leaning back against the door, pinning her with a knowing expression. “Do you like knowing I’ve been watching you?”

Her eyes widen, head automatically shaking no, but her brow is slightly furrowed, like there’s a fight in her head over the question. She turns to the bed, her comfort spot, and sits down.

I don’t move. Standing in front of the door as a reminder of who’s in power here .

Me. I control everything, and I’ve deigned to come and listen to her requests. She doesn’t even consider that she should be screaming in my face, trying to attack me. Something.

Instead, she looks nervous, picking at the hem of her sundress like she’s trying to choose the right words to use.

“Well, Emma? You asked for me,” I remind her.

She looks up at me, eyes widening.

“Yes, uh, I’m just not entirely sure how to say what I’m needing. It’s a personal thing. Not something I’ve discussed with anyone outside Eric.”

The sound of his name scorches through me, but I try not to let that show. I don’t want to scare her when she seems on the verge of letting herself be vulnerable. It’s a sign of trust, she isn’t afraid like she should be.

“If it’s something I can get for you, I will,” I say, and she glances up at me again with a tiny frown on her face.

“I—I need a test. A pregnancy test.” Even the words have her face rising red, to be discussing something intimate like this with me. A stranger. Her captor . She pushes the words out and then turns her head to the floor.

I can tell her heart is thundering from here, as I process this request. I’ve done my research on this guy, and what I’m hearing from her is…illuminating to say the least.

“Why?” I ask, and she blinks up at me.

“We were…we were trying. Before. I just need to know, since I’m stuck here for who knows how long. I need to know. Please,” she says, locking me in with those warm, brown eyes of hers. “I’ll do anything. I just need to know if it worked.”

I’m caught off guard by the emotion that loops around my heart. Pity . She doesn’t know. It’s clear as day that she has no idea.

This is…perfect. I needed a wedge to shake loose this die hard loyalty to her husband and the opportunity presents itself right in front of me.

“Give me a minute,” I say, and turn from the room, securing the door behind me.

Back in the office, I dig through the files, all of the research and information we had gathered on Eric and his band of criminal colleagues.

I see it. Grab it. I don’t feel anything about the situation until I’m walking back into her room and she peeks up at me with excitement—realizing she thinks I’ve gone to get her a test.

She’s excited, probably hoping it will be positive so she can be a mother.

When I see her register that I don’t, in fact, have one, just paperwork, I feel bad.

“Here,” I say, my words soft. Understanding. Allowing myself to be the good guy as this plays out. “Emma, you don’t need a test.”