Mercy (Sin City Outlaws #2)

Mercy (Sin City Outlaws #2)

M.N. Forgy




DEDICATION


I dedicate this book to love.

As it is ugly, it is beautiful.

It brings pain, as much as it brings happiness.

It makes you smile unforgettably, and makes you cry uncontrollably.

You feel lost but found all at the same time.

It takes time, but is unpredictable.

The question you have to ask yourself when you’re head over heels and seeing everything through rose colored glasses is, is it all worth it?

I say yes.

To LOVE! Flips middle finger It’s better to have loved, than to have never loved at all.





CHAPTER ONE


Jillian



CURLED UP IN THE SEAT OF MY CRUISER, which is now considered stolen, I stare out the window.

Zeek and I have long since left the city of Las Vegas, you can’t even see the skyline anymore. My thoughts shift between regret, sorrow, and anger. Everything that just happened…was my fault. There is no way around feeling the turmoil ripping through me like a violent storm. The wake of its destruction landing solely on my shoulders. I gave in to temptation. I betrayed the code of blue. I fell for a criminal.

I knew not to get involved with an outlaw, especially one from the notorious Sin City Outlaws. A president of a motorcycle club to be exact. But I went against my better judgment, and it’s been hell ever since.

I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea that my department is dirty and that Lieutenant Oaks, my father, might have been somehow involved with said dubious acts. I just…can’t though. It doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe there is a deputy or two involved who works for the Outlaws, but my dad? He taught me everything I know about being a Sheriff, he lived by the badge. So I thought…

I need proof, and I want to go back to Vegas and fix what I can before it’s too late.

“We need to get a different car. This one is wanted, everyone is going to be looking for it.” Slowly I blink, my eyes crusted from crying so much, and I look toward Zeek. His dark hair falls in his eyes as he leans forward. He’s looking in the rearview and side mirrors, paranoid.

I pick at the dried blood on my uniform pants, blowing out a puff of air. Visions of my father’s still body wrapped in my arms come back tenfold.

I joined the Sheriff’s department knowing full well the risk, that my father who was the lieutenant might die one day just as I might too. I just never knew that Zeek, the man I have fallen in love with, would be the one to kill my father, and by doing so killed a part of me too. Funny, just calling him my father instead of Lieutenant Oaks sounds weird in my head. But I just can’t bring myself to call him anything else. Not now. I wish I called him Dad more often.

Zeek didn’t just spill the blood of a leader of many, but that of my role model. He was the beast I refused to see, a wolf that disguised himself into something less vicious. I saw the good inside him that others didn’t, or so I thought. Over the last hour I have been shown how na?ve and stupid I really was for believing in someone like him. The president of the Sin City Outlaws doesn’t know the word love. He doesn’t care about family, or have any morals.

Zevin Zeek Deluca is the fucking Devil. Complete with a gun, and a leather cut to top it off.

His dark hair blows with the breeze sweeping from the window, his tanned skin standing out against his clothes. He looks so massive sitting behind the wheel, the top of his head brushing against the headliner, his body width bigger than the seat. He’s all muscle, and each ripple is gorgeously evil.

“Did you hear me?” His brown eyes focus on mine, hitting me like a dead weight.

My chest swells with the urge to cry again, the burden of shame sitting on my shoulders spearing into my soul every time Zeek talks to me too much. Feeling the urge to puke, I turn away, and look out the window. I can’t even look at him, let alone talk to him. Hell, I don’t even want to be in the same car with him. Why am I still in this car?

“Dammit, Jillian, you have to talk to me at some point,” Zeek growls.

The car starts to slow, catching my attention, I sit up in my seat and look out the front windshield, curious what has him coming to a stop.

“There’s a truck, we can take it.” Zeek points toward an old white Chevy parked in front of a barn, next to an old two-story house on the side of the road.