Mercy (Sin City Outlaws #2)(52)

His hand covers the wound, as his eyes cloud and his chest heaves for air. The adrenaline running rampant through my limbs dissipates, realization of what I just did beginning to sit heavy.

What the hell did I just do?

“You okay, baby?” Zeek asks softly, coming face to face with me.

“Yes, I’m fine.” The words get caught in my throat. Setting one of his guns down, he pulls and yanks at the cuffs. I wince, my wrists reminding me my skin is like raw meat.

“Wait, I got it.” Mac takes my hands, and pulls out a tool resembling a bobby pin. In seconds, my hands are free. It’s kind of scary how fast he is at picking the handcuff locks.

“Thank you,” I croak.

He winks. “Don’t mention it.”

Zeek’s hand clasps the back of my neck, and he pulls me in for a strong kiss. One that literally melts everything that has been sitting on my shoulders since I was taken. A warmth spreads through my limbs as I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of security. The smell of leather and spice comforting me. I missed this man, I missed him so f*cking much. Kissing him, being this close to him after being ripped from his arms, I can say without a doubt that I’m his forever. Just like he said, I’ll never be able to leave him.

Zeek slowly pulls his lips from me, and I pout inside. Not wanting it to stop.

I look into Zeek’s eyes, I don’t want him to break the comforting embrace his arms bring. I know what’s going to happen next because the look of lust and love is fading into something black and ominous. Pulling his hollow gaze from mine, he focuses on Frank.



Zeek



I TAKE A BREATH IN, trying to calm myself but the fury raging inside of me cannot be contained.

Sliding my hair back out of my face, I glare at Frank.

He made this beast, fed this monster for years, and now he’s about to see his masterpiece firsthand.

Like the little bitch that he is, he tries to run. He doesn’t make it very far though, because Lip pistol whips him in the head making him fall to his knees.

Freeing my gun from its holster, I stride toward Frank.

“This ends here,” I seethe.

“Zeek, wait,” he begs. “Please, have mercy, nephew. Understand where I am coming from as your uncle. I was just trying to make you the man I know you’re capable of being.” I snort, and check the clip, making sure it’s loaded with bullets.

Then I aim the gun at him, and his face stills, the act that he has been performing everything for my own good falling into what he really is. A ruthless outlaw. A Deluca.

His act fades when he realizes he’s going to die, his true demeanor forming his face with an edge.

“I should have killed you along with your snitching father.” His tone dripping with malicious intent. “You know why I set you up to kill him? Because I knew you’d be weak and vulnerable afterwards, and you were. It was so easy to manipulate you into doing whatever I needed.” He chuckles, his head falling back before his dead eyes pin me where I stand. “But, see, I failed to mention one crucial part of information. That wasn’t your father. Your bitch of a mother slept with Cross when she found out her husband was getting his dick wet with her club whore of a best friend. Cross is your father. Do you hear me? You. Are. Cross’s. Son.”

“That’s not true,” Lip shouts behind me. I’m not surprised he’d defend our mother so quickly. It makes sense though, as much as I don’t want it to be, it all makes perfect f*cking sense.

I look over at Cross’s body lying there bleeding out and try to see if I feel anything. A tether to him, a bond, or a simple connection that will tell me this man was indeed the man who fathered me. But I feel nothing. Just like I had been taught to feel for as long as I could remember. There’s no warmth swelling my heart like when I look at Jillian—the light that grounds me, the one person in this world who has guided me into seeing that there is more to me than a beast incapable of emotion.

The only thing I feel for Cross is nothingness. He wasn’t my father, I tell myself. He was a coward, no matter how big and bad he was in the streets of Vegas. He was a coward within this circle of lies for letting another man raise me as his.

“It is very much true.” Frank continues to laugh, bringing my attention back to him. “Why do you think your mother hated you so much, Zeek? You were your mother’s one mistake, the one f*ck up your ‘father’ held over her head. The mistake I was fortunate enough to use to my leverage, Zeeky Boy. You were the Deluca’s best kept dirty little secret that kept everyone—”

Leaning down in Frank’s face, my nose nearly touching his, my nostrils flare. My eyes flicking back and forth between his, seeing something very familiar. Frank and I aren’t so different, or at least we weren’t before I met Jillian. Before her, I was a man with one goal—power. I wanted to be on top, and rule the streets no matter the cost. Power is more addicting than sex, drugs, or money. It clouds your mind and reaps your soul, and before you know it, you’re not living, and you’re just surviving. Frank taught me that, he injected that drug into my veins when he set me up to kill my father. My father. At least the man I perceived as my father. The man who gave me the dirty needle of the constant craving to be the guy who deserves respect from such a young age. Because of that I’ve lost not only people I love but I lost who I could have been.