Mercy (Sin City Outlaws #2)(32)

“Would you ease up?” Doc, as Bobby called her, reaches around her neck and lifts the stethoscope. She sticks the eartips in her ear and places the cold metal of the stethoscope on my chest.

“Your heart is beating a little faster, which is good. You had me a little worried a bit ago.”

“I’m sure my death would weigh heavy on your conscience, princess,” I jab condescendingly.

“Go.” Bobby points at the door, ushering her out.

She huffs standing, giving him a bitchy look before leaving.

Bobby rubs at his neck, his stance wide.

“Just so you know, she’s probably your only friend around here. She doesn’t deserve your disrespect.”

“If my disrespect is the only thing I give her, than I think she’s getting off pretty easy.” Tilting my head to the side, I smile.

Without blinking an eye, he slams his fist into my mouth, blood spraying across the wall.

“Fuuuck.” I groan, my lip burning.

“Stop, you’re hurting him!” Jillian screams, and Bull and…Shadow, I think it was, rush into the room.

Jillian slams her elbow into Bobby’s gut, making him fall to his knees. Shadow grabs a hold of her and tosses her on the bed like a f*cking teddy bear.

“Stay!” he orders her, finger pointed in her face. She slaps it out of her way, and mean mugs him.

“Goddamn it, Bobby,” Bull hollers, pushing him out of the room.

“What kind of female is that?” Bobby groans, hunched over as he limps out.

Looking at Jillian a proud smile spreads across my bloody face. My woman is a little protective.

“Unless you want to try your luck with death again, why don’t you try and play nice, huh?” Bull suggests, hunching down in my line of sight.

Using the back of my hand, I wipe at my bloody mouth. I hiss as the salt from my hand stings the wound. Sighing loudly, he stands and follows Shadow out of the room.

“Why?” Jillian sobs, her stare angry.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this? Acting like a complete * when you want their help?” Her face is red from crying, her hair a mess from fighting. We shouldn’t have come here, I knew it.

“We don’t need their help, we’re leaving.”

Blood drips on my pants. Using my thumb I try and wipe it way unsuccessfully. “But, to answer your question, if I came here apologizing, and kissing their asses do you think they’d take me seriously? No, they want to beat their anger out on me. They want me to feel—to see me—regret what I’ve done.”

She shakes her head, not understanding. I don’t expect her to. She didn’t grow up in this world, she grew up where people talked their problems out and you forgave your enemy regardless if you really wanted to or not. In my world, the world of outlaws and criminals, we don’t give a f*ck about a verbal apology or explanation. We beat the respect out of you, make you bleed your apology. Only then will we decide if your suffering condoned what the f*ck you did to deserve it in the first place. If not, we do it again.

We show no motherf*cking mercy. Mercy is for the weak and because of the world we live in there is no room for weakness. Only the strong f*cking survive.

“Do you feel sorry for what you did?” That is the million-dollar question.

Looking down, I wipe the blood on my jeans.

“Kinda. It sucks it happened. But it’s in the past.” I’m honest with her, and the words leaving my mouth shock me. To know I’m actually capable of feeling regret like that, makes me feel like Jillian is turning me into a giant *.

“Unbelievable. I think you should just explain to them—”

“This is my world, baby, I don’t expect you to understand what I’m doing, or how I’m acting. Just shut up, and let me do what I do best,” I interrupt, my tone angry.

Crossing her arms, she rests her head on them.

“He’s going to kill you.” She lifts her head, her eyes peering up under her blonde bangs. “Your brother, he’s going to kill you and then what happens to me?” I’d never let that happen. Ever.

“If he was going to kill me, he would have aimed for my head. I’m alive because he wanted me alive.”

“Or he’s a shit shot.” She lowers her head again, breaking eye contact.

Not being able to handle the silence any longer, I try and stand. My stomach screaming where Lip shot me before I even take a step.

I stumble against the wall, my body aching, and thundering with pain all over.

“Where are you going?” Jillian’s head pops up frantically.

“I’m getting us the f*ck out of here.” Reaching the door, Kane is leaning against the wall in the hallway, his cell phone in one hand.

“He’s up!” Kane warns the men. He must be the watchdog. Looking his cut over, I see he’s a prospect too.

“Where’s my gun?” I ask.

Bull steps into the light of the hall, with Lip right on his tail.

“How the hell are you standing?” Bull chuckles, a cigarette bobbing from his lips as he speaks.

“We don’t need your help anymore, we’re leaving.” Everything goes dizzy, my face starting to sweat profusely.

“It doesn’t look like you’re going much of anywhere,” Bull observes.