Thank you for your interest and support. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Reaper's Legacy.
MERCEDES CONT'D
Ten minutes later, I couldn't stop wondering what Sam meant by the word accident.
Were they planning a fatal accident?
I tried to tell myself it wasn't my problem. That Rachel's fate was set the moment Bray called Sam crying and begging for help.
And that it was totally beyond my control. But telling myself that, worked for about half an hour...and then my conscience kicked in.
If Sam and Stud weren't planning to kill someone, why did they need a bat and duct tape?
Those weren't constructive-discussion-about-what-you-did-wrong supplies. Those were killing-someone-and-hiding-the-body supplies.
And the only thing missing was a box of big black garbage bags. I've seen Dexter. I knew these things.
That bitch Rachel deserved serious payback for my son, but she didn't deserve to die.
And I didn't need that kind of karma.
A moment later, I called Sam's cell.
He didn't answer.
Then I crept across the hall and knocked on the door...
There weren't any screams or anything coming from inside...
Was that a good sign or bad sign?
Hard to tell, since this would be my first felony and I didn't know the proper procedure. But I heard boots crossing the creaky wooden floor...
"It's me," I said, pitching my voice low. "Can you come out for a sec? I really need to talk, Sam."
"Wringer's busy," Stud replied through the door. "We'll be done here soon. Go get packed and take care of your boy. We got this."
What?
Busy?
Busy doing what?
I tried the knob...
Locked.
"Seriously, Mercedes, go back to your place."
I backed away from the door.
Now what?
The open window at the end of the hall caught my eye...
The fire escape!
Sam had used it to get into my apartment, and Rachel's place was a mirror of mine. Maybe I could get in that way to make sure everything was all right.
I ducked back into my studio for a quick check on Bray, closing and locking my own window while I was at it.
Thankfully, he was still totally out. So I slipped through the door and locked it, then walked over to the hall window and stuck my head out to scope the situation.
Sure enough, the narrow iron landing stretched from my window and across the hallway before stopping under Rachel's.
I put my leg through cautiously and stepped onto the platform, making it creak. Then I accidentally glanced down...and swallowed hard.
I've never been a huge fan of heights.
However, I held the rail with one hand, trailing the other along the brick wall until I reached Rachel's closed window.
I crouched low, peeking through...
Rachel wasn't much of a decorator, so she didn't have real blinds, just a filmy, translucent scarf she'd tacked over the pane.
The details might be a little fuzzy, but I could still see clearly enough...
Rachel's boyfriend lay facedown on the floor, hands bound tightly behind his back with duct tape. His feet were wrapped, too, and there was more tape around his head...like they'd decided to shut his mouth and just kept going.
Blood trailed from a cut on his forehead and some dripped out of his nose. And there were bruises forming along his ribs. But he seemed to be unconscious.
Sam stood over him, aluminum bat in one hand, cell phone in the other.
I spotted Rachel...she was knelt in the middle of the room, hands taped tight just like her man's. Duct tape covered her mouth and she wore a sleazy nightgown that was probably supposed to look sexy.
Stud lounged casually across from her, leaning against the wall. He seemed bored.
But all in all, I sighed with relief.
I'd been crazy to think they'd actually butcher two people in cold blood. Sure, whatever was going on in there didn't look fun, but I could live with that.
Sam hung up his phone and shoved it into his pocket. Then he said something to Stud, who shrugged and must've cracked some sort of joke, because Sam laughed.
Then Stud walked over to Rachel, knelt down, and ripped the strip of silver off her face.
Her lips quivered as she asked him a question. He shook his head as he replied, and she started trembling so hard I could see it from across the room and through the curtain.
Then things got bad...
Stud reached around and pulled an ugly black handgun out of the back of his jeans...
And I watched in frozen horror as he cocked the slider-thingy on top, clearly preparing to shoot.
Next, he said something else to Rachel.
And tears ran down her face as she slowly opened her mouth.
Then, he nudged her lips wider with the barrel of his gun...and pushed it in.
Holy hell! HOLY HELL!
I jumped up and pounded on the window with both hands, screaming at them to stop.
Sam spun around, moving so fast I couldn't follow.
Within seconds, he'd ripped open the window and jerked me into the room.
The sash crashed down again as he wrapped his arms around me, pinning me to the front of his body, my back to his stomach.
I tried to scream again, but his hand slammed across my mouth. And the bat clattered as it rolled across the wooden floor.
Rachel's eyes darted towards me, full of desperate hope that quickly melted when neither man moved.
Then Stud spoke...
"Time's up, sugar. Usually people close their eyes. Your call."
Rachel moaned, shutting her eyes tight and visibly bracing her body.
Stud glanced up, smiled, and blew me a kiss.
Then he pulled the trigger...
SAM
Mercedes exploded in my arms, thrashing furiously, even as her bitch of a neighbor screamed and fell back on the floor, flopping around dramatically.
I had to roll my eyes.
Neither seemed to notice the gun hadn't been loaded.
Meanwhile, I was fighting to control the banshee in my arms, hating Stud, because the bastard just stood there, smirking at me like the smug asshole he'd always been.
Seriously, a goddamned kiss?
Sick fuck!
One of Mercedes' heels lashed back and caught me in the shin. When I grunted, she kicked the same spot again.
Savagely.
"Fifty bucks says your baby mama could take you in a fair fight," Stud taunted. And I rolled my eyes.
Again.
Rachel's shrieking suddenly stopped and she froze, opening her eyes to look around in stunned confusion.
Finally, the little dumbass noticed she wasn't dead.
Mercedes also stilled and my aching shin rejoiced.
"Feels like I'm repeating myself here," I muttered in her ear. "But if I move my hand, you better keep quiet. Got me?"
She nodded her head tightly.
I let go and she jerked away. And as fast as a snake, her hand flashed out and slapped me right across the face...
It fucking hurt.
Damn!
"You bastard!" she hissed. "You scared the crap out of me! What kind of sadist pulls shit like this?"
"The kind interested in making a lasting impression?" I asked, cocking my head at her. "Jesus, did you want us to kill her?"
Her pretty face twisted and her mouth opened, but before anything could come out, the bitch on the floor started crying...
Loud.
I had come to realize Rachel did everything loud. But Stud leaned forward and caught her arms, jerking her up and onto her knees.
Then he caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"If we do this again, a bullet comes out and pulps your brain. Got me?"
She nodded frantically, her sobs even noisier than before.
How was that even possible?
Then I caught the unmistakable smell of piss and sighed. Sure enough, she'd left a puddle.
"Every damn time," Stud muttered.
"I can't believe you guys," Mercedes chimed in, clenching and unclenching her hands, shaking with adrenaline.
She was so angry she'd forgotten to be afraid. And I actually liked that about her.
She had grit. But right now she was getting on my nerves.
Mercedes stepped closer, hands still clenching and unclenching...
I tried to ignore her, because we had a lot to do and limited time before the Black Devils showed up.
"I thought you were killing her. She thought you were killing her. How can you do this?" she demanded.
"We wanted to catch her attention," I replied, my temper fraying. "Near-death experiences tend to stick with a person. Next time she'll make better choices."
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and glared.
Then the sound of tape ripping cut the air as Stud covered Rachel's mouth again.
Thank God for that. I was tired of her noise, I was exhausted from driving all night, and I was hungry.
"Go back next door, Mercedes," I said, rubbing a hand through my short hair.
I caught a whiff of my own scent when I raised my arm. Nasty.
I'd have to shower at her place before I left for Colorado.
"We won't go crazy, I promise. But don't forget, Bray spent more than an hour hiding on the fire escape last night. Four stories up, Mercy. Your babysitter's man is a registered sex offender, by the way. The bitch knew it, too. And she still invited him over while she had a kid at her place. Don't feel sorry for either of them."
Mercedes' eyes widened.
"How do you know all that?" she asked.
Stud answered.
"They told us."
"I wouldn't think sex offenders go around sharing that kind of information," Mercedes said, suddenly wary.
"We're very persuasive people," I told her. "You just gotta ask the questions right. Go home, Merce. We need to finish up here and get you moved out. I'm tired, honey."
"This is all wrong. I feel like an accomplice," she replied, shaking her head. "I don't like it."
For fuck's sake...
She hadn't been too worried about being an accomplice when she pointed out Rachel's place earlier. It's a little too late to be complaining at this point in the game.
Anyway, I'd had enough...
"Really? You don't like it?" I asked. "Personally, I don't like the idea of the next kid getting raped just because he isn't smart enough to hide on the fire escape," I said, stepping slowly into her space and backing her towards the wall. "How about this? You go ahead and feel guilty about being an accomplice, and I'll go ahead and keep doing your dirty work, so you don't have to break a fucking nail or something. Then tonight, we'll open a bottle of wine and talk about how today made us feel. And maybe eat some chocolate while we're at it. Then we'll watch The Notebook together. That work for you?"
She hit the wall and I leaned forward, slapping my hands flat on either side of her head. Then I dropped my face into hers, eyes blazing.
"Shit, Mercedes, I think I'm showing extreme patience, all things considered. This is not a fucking joke. Braylon made it through last night because he stayed awake and alert on that fire escape...not because either of these fucks lifted a finger to help him. They terrorized a little boy and laughed about it. Now it's their turn. So don't expect me to feel bad about that. Go. Home."
Mercedes swallowed, her eyes wide. She stayed quiet as she slowly slid down and out from under the barrier of my arms, skirting the edge of the room until she reached the door.
Then she slipped through, closing it behind her very softly.
I glanced over at Stud, who raised a brow. Great. Now I'd catch shit from him, too.
"Your baby mama's kinda hot when she's pissed," he said helpfully.
"Jesus, Stud! You got no sense of boundaries, you know that?"
"Yup," he replied, and I seriously considered taking the bat and smashing the bastard's face in. Of course, then I'd have his old lady to deal with...
Bitch was a damned good shot.
Rachel fell over with a thump, eyes going wide. We both looked down at her.
"What should we do with this one?" Stud asked. "I want her out of our faces, but I gotta say, I don't like the idea of leaving her here for the Black Devils when they come to pick up their problem child."
At that, he jerked his chin towards the still-unconscious man on the floor.
"I think we should let her go right before we take off," I suggested. And Stud walked over and nudged her with his foot.
"Hey, Rachel. We're gonna cut that tape off in a couple hours. But...do we need to worry about you sharing this little adventure with anyone? 'Cause that would put me in a real bad mood."
She shook her head violently.
"You sure?" he asked. "If it's a problem, we'll figure out something else for you. I saw an empty lot not too far from here. I wonder how long it'll take before some construction worker digs up your body?"
Rachel grunted, her eyes going wider.
"I'm gonna assume that means you'll keep your mouth shut," I said, sighing and rubbing the back of my neck. The muscles were way too tight back there. "Oh, somethin' else you should know. It's not just us you'd be dealing with if you talk. There's a hundred and thirty-four brothers in the club. And generally, I'm considered one of the nicer ones."
"True story," Stud chimed in. "Fuck with us, we'll fuck you back. Harder. Always."
She nodded frantically.
"Sounds like a plan," Stud said. He glanced over at the man on the floor and then caught my eye. "Might wanna tell your baby mama that the next time she has a run-in with a guy from another club, she should give us a heads-up before we go in. This could've been ugly."
"She doesn't get it...not the ink, not the cuts, nothing. She may have seen his tats, but she didn't know what they meant," I said. Then snapped, "Tape."
Stud tossed it over and I crouched down next to the woman.
"Legs together, bitch. It'll be a new experience for you."
She obeyed, and I started wrapping the tape tight around her ankles.
"You were still in Afghanistan when Mercedes' and Shaun's shit went down," I told Stud. "But trust me, it got ugly, and we didn't exactly socialize after that. She hates me and she hates the club. The only reason she puts up with the situation, is because she loves Bray too much to take away the only man in his life. Sucks for him, but I'm the best he's got."
"Sounds like she's a bitch," Stud said. "Rumor is, you saved her ass. Her knight in shining armor and shit. You might wanna trade your bike in for a pretty pink unicorn to ride, seeing as you're such a special snowflake and all."
"Shut the fuck up, asshole!" I replied. "Yes, I saved her. But I also lost my shit on her in a big way, at a time she couldn't handle it. Not that it matters now. Long story short, she knows jack about club colors or how we live. She didn't mention the back patch...because she's fuckin' clueless."
"If I could offer a suggestion?" Stud asked.
"No!"
"You gotta tell her what to expect, help her understand club life before she screws up again," he said. "It'll save yourself an ass-load of trouble down the line. Trust me on this, bro. Breaking in a civilian like Mercedes as your old lady is rough enough. Don't make it harder than it needs to be. Also, she's got a helluva mouth on her. What happens in private is one thing, but she can't pull that kind of shit at the Armory. You know it's true."
I snorted, dropping the tape as I finished wrapping Rachel's legs.
Why had I brought Stud?
Anyone would've been less annoying...
But unfortunately, only he had been both sober and stupid enough to answer his phone in the middle of the night.
"This'll be hard for your tiny little brain to process, so listen carefully," I said, rising to my feet and tossing the tape onto the couch. "One, she's not my baby mama, so stop calling her that. It's only funny the first fifty times. Two, I'm not planning to make her my property. I'm helping out because she's Braylon's mom and for all practical purposes, he's my son. I'll keep an eye on her for his sake, but she's a free agent. And I doubt she'll ever set foot in the Armory, no matter what I tell her."
"Bullshit!"
"Not bullshit," I snapped. "She doesn't want me, asshole. Trust me, I have reason to know this. Our history is complicated...way too complicated for a dumbass cocksucker like you to understand."
"You struck out," Stud declared, a slow grin stealing across his face. "And you're still driving across the state in the middle of the night so you can set her up in your house? You are well and truly screwed, brother."
"I didn't strike out," I replied, eyes narrowed. "It wasn't like that. And I don't think of her that way."
"Here's a suggestion for future reference, then," Stud said. "Try jerking off before answering the door if you want me to believe you don't think of her that way. Wood like you were sporting usually implies the opposite. Unless it was for me. If that's the case, I'm genuinely flattered. No judgments."
"Why hasn't Marge shot you yet?"
"Because I'm not in denial about what my dick wants," he replied. "If I piss her off, I get no sex. Watch and learn. Now let's get them locked down and start hauling your girl's shit out to the truck. The Devils will be here in a couple more hours, and I don't particularly care to stay and discuss techniques for removing dumbasses' ink with them. What kind of suicidal idiot doesn't black out his tats when his club cuts him loose?"
"Well, he joined the Black Devils in the first place," I replied, shrugging. "That doesn't say much for his intelligence. But I hope he has health insurance. He's probably gonna need it."
"Only if he's lucky. So tell me, brother. How many times have you seen The Notebook? 'Cause that's information the boys back home are gonna need to know."
"Fuck off!"
Stay safe!