Page 97 of Merciless

“He won’t,” I state. I want it to come out strong, but it’s anything but.

JD laughs, but there’s no happiness in it. Only pain. A pain I’m more than familiar with.

“Don’t be naïve, little dove. Victor will do whatever it takes to get the job done.”

“He won’t risk losing one of his best men,” I say, my voice a little more stable this time. “Without me to bend to his will, he won’t throw Mav under a bus.”

“Are you sure about that, little dove? Victor barely cares about his own sons, he won’t spare a second thought for Razor’s.”

My chest heaves as I consider his words.

“Then free me and things can just go back to how they were.”

JD’s eyes flare with anger and… possessiveness? “And let those men touch what’s ours?”

“No, I’m not—”

“Not happening, Dove. Reid wants answers from you, and until he gets them, you’re going nowhere. And while you might care about your husband’s well-being, Reid certainly doesn’t.

“Your previous life is over, Alana. And only you can choose how the next one starts.”

With those ominous words hanging in the air between us, he finally moves my leg, although he doesn’t put my foot back on the floor. Instead, he lifts it and spreads me wide, his eyes locked on my core.

“Such a pretty pussy, little dove,” he murmurs, licking his lips.

Desire rolls through me, the tease of his lips, his tongue, his touch, it’s too much, and I roll my hips invitingly.

“Please,” I whimper.

“I guess you do need a reward for what you told me.”

Oh God.

My body wobbles, balancing on one leg with nothing to steady me.

He leans forward, and I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath, but… nothing happens.

My leg is dropped and when I open my eyes again, he’s standing in front of me with a smirk playing on his lips.

“Asshole,” I hiss.

“Aw, little dove. Are you feeling frustrated?”

“I hate you,” I seethe.

“No, you don’t. Want me to prove it?”

“Not really,” I mutter as he reaches for another bottle on the shelf.

Holding his palm out, I watch as he squeezes a generous amount of purple shampoo onto it before rubbing them together. I guess his hair knowledge isn’t limited to cutting.

“Turn around,” he demands, his voice so fucking deadly that I’ve no choice but to follow orders.

“Oh God.” I pant when his fingers slide into my wet locks.

His deep growl fills the air before he says, “See. You actually love me.”

Gathering all my hair up, he ensures every inch is coated and then rubbed clean before the pressure he’s applying increases and he begins massaging my head just like the pros.