Mercer's Siren Read online

  Table of Contents

  Mercer's Siren

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  About the Authors

  Mercer’s Siren

  (The Revenant Chronicles)

  MINA CARTER

  USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  &

  J.WILLIAM MITCHELL

  Copyright

  © 2015 Mina Carter & J.William Mitchell

  Cover Art by Mina Carter

  Published by Blue Hedgehog Press: July 2015.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  Chapter One

  Sedj stepped off the InterSystems transport with no particular expectations of the hellhole her friend Jensen had set up shop in. Even so, her expectation and the reality were worlds apart. She looked about in dismay. It was like he’d actually tried, and succeeded, in finding the grimiest, most stereotypical backwater outpost he could. Which didn’t surprise her. She’d known Jensen Haye for years. They were long-time friends, even though the big mercenary had never needed her medical skills personally. She’d heard the pain in his voice when he’d told her that Dozer, Bull, and Tucker had bought it on their last mission.

  A grimace of sadness and grief twisted her features as she paid the cab driver with a swipe of her thumb. She’d liked all three guys, spent more than a couple of nights on the town with them when her unit and the Revenants happened to be in the same place at the same time. That she was Hanorian, a species known for their allure and somewhat loose inhibitions, hadn’t bothered them in the slightest.

  To them, she’d just been Red, a combat doc as good with a pulse rifle as she was with a scalpel, and an ability to drink most of them under the table. That and the fact she carried at least three nano-scalpels hidden about her person, ensured they didn’t hit on her like they would another of her species. Many men fantasized about bedding a Siren, and often didn’t hear the word no when spoken. Their hearing got a lot better with a lethal blade under their chin.

  Putting her grief aside, she looked at the building and assessed its disreputable appearance before striding toward the door. The security plate flickered green when she pressed her thumb against it and she smiled. Jensen was smart enough to know that if he messed her about, she would be on the first transport out of here. The Revenants weren’t the only show in town. Not for a newly un-retired combat surgeon with her experience.

  “Hello?” she called out as she stepped through the door into the relative cool of the hangar. A bulky surface-to-air troop transport loomed over her, half buried in the docking pit. Ugly as sin, but boasted the shielding and the weapons arrays were top of the line. She smiled, feeling right at home.

  Her shoes thudded against the walkway as she headed for the doors at the back of the hangar. They led to a couple offices, and what looked like the living space for the team when on the planet. For some of them anyway. She knew others, like Gunnar, had their own places in town. Nothing so far away that they couldn’t get here within minutes, even on foot.

  “Heeeelllo? Anyone home?” she tried again, but a whole lot of silence answered her. Shrugging her heavy pack more comfortably against her back, she turned left at the end of the walkway. Her destination was the small medbay, the door tucked between the barracks and showers.

  She sighed as she stepped through the doorway and paused. Jensen had been good to his word. Like the troop transport, the medbay was top-notch, and the soft hum and beep of new equipment surrounded her like a comforting blanket. After briefly closing her eyes and allowing the rest of her senses to take in the space that would become her domain, she opened them and looked around in pleasure.

  Three diagnostic beds sat to one side of the door--AR17s, if she didn’t miss her guess...a model in production only a couple of months. Who the hell had he bribed to get those? Her gaze moved on, over plexiglass covered cabinets, ID secured, containing a full range of medications and surgical equipment and came to rest on the crowning glory in the middle of the room.

  A small, but fully functional holo-enhanced surgical bed. She took a step forward, then another, and reached out to brush her fingertips over the surface. It was deactivated at the moment, but that made no difference, she knew what it did. How to use it. Countless hours she’d stood at one of these; technology and her own ability combined as she literally rebuilt soldiers from the cell up. Gunshots, plasma burns, blast injuries. Men had come into her medbay from the battlefield on the verge of death, only to carry on a different sort of battle in here. And she’d fought for them with every fiber of her being. In small rooms like this, she drew her line in the sand and matched wits with the Grim Reaper himself, often sending him packing so her boys could live to fight another day.

  A dull thump behind her sent her whirling around in surprise. In the confines of the space, the sound was like a cannon shot and added to her alarm. Far from a stereotypical doctor, Sedj gave a new meaning to the term “battlefield surgeon,” and her training and instincts had her gripping the first thing she could use as a weapon.

  “Jesus Christ... I have a hangover, sure, but I don’t think having my head amputated is the way to go.”

  He was tall, hunky, and looked like hell. Though given his damp hair and the towel wrapped around his neck, she couldn’t imagine how much worse for wear he had been earlier. One hand propped against the open door holding him steady while the other clutched his forehead. His knuckles were raw, the beginnings of a nasty bruise started to show on his jaw, and a shallow, not-so-fresh gash marred his cheek. A couple other minor cuts were in the process of healing on his forearm.

  Her eyes followed his gaze to the surgical laser saw she held. It was for heavier precision cutting. She quickly lowered it, eliciting a soft chuckle from her guest. “Sorry to burst your bubble, gorgeous. I don’t need anything cut off today.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You sure? Damn, I was looking forward to playing with some of these. Oh well…”

  She smiled to take the conversation from disturbing back to professional. She was, after all, a doctor, and this man was obviously in need of medical attention. And he was handsome under all that, which meant it was a real test of her reactions.

  Her retirement hadn’t been voluntary, rather a by-product of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and falling for the wrong guy. One who hadn’t realized, or didn’t give a shit, that Hanorians mated for life. They didn’t divorce. Couldn’t. They bonded on the genetic level and madness called for those with a broken bond. She’d been lucky though. Pioneering research had reset her genetics, erasing the tie with minimal damage… just two years
of her life lost in the mindless fog that awaited those whose mates had abandoned them.

  But now she was back, almost as good as new, and she had a patient.

  “Okay, handsome. Let's take a look at you,” she said, motioning toward one of the diagnostic beds.

  * * *

  He’d been called a ton of names in his life: asshole, jackass, and a host of others. There was even one particularly creative term in Phylagrian he still couldn’t pronounce, but made him grin each time he thought about it, because he deserved it. But even through all that, no one had ever accused Garrett Mercer of being too stupid to live. He had the wisdom to understand when a breathtakingly gorgeous goddess told him to get on a bed so she could take a look, he did as told.

  Okay, so it wasn’t the kind of bed dressed with thousand thread count sheets. Big deal. A bed was a bed. It still counted, right?

  Keeping her in the corner of his eye and trying not to leer, he strode over and plunked his ass on the bed. It was set lower than usual, perhaps in deference to the goddess’s somewhat diminutive height, so he fell more than sat the last couple of inches with an oomph.

  The bed flared into life with a soft hum to assess him, the dark-haired beauty pursing her lips as she waited for the readout. Garrett stayed silent. He knew what was wrong with him, didn’t need a fancy machine to tell him he’d had too much of the good stuff last night. Instead, he used the time to study the angel tending to him.

  Her hair was incredible, chocolate and silk cascading in riotous waves past her shoulders contrasting with the fairness of her creamy skin. The former invited him to run his fingers through them, the latter tempted him to caress. She had a face that belonged in magazines and could have a love affair with any camera, a perfect nose, high cheekbones, and plump lips made for kissing.

  But goddamn! Her eyes caught and held his attention the most. Okay, sure, if he had to be really truly honest then yeah he didn’t miss the way her blouse stretched across her chest. Tiny as she was, she was generously proportioned without going overboard and he was a guy after all. But setting that aside, the smoky gray pools seemed to hold beguiling mystery as the wicked tilt of her peepers made him think of things as naughty as sin.

  If everything suddenly ran in slow motion, wind coming from nowhere to gather up her hair and doves aloft and flapping their wings all around the as a chorus of angels sang in majestic Hallelujah, Garrett was sure he’d be gobsmacked with her glory. Considering he was suffering the mother of all hangovers following the epic night before, that said a lot.

  She sighed, the breath in further tightening her top over her considerable assets, and looked at him directly. “How much did you drink last night?”

  “Gee, straight to the tough questions there. Lemme see…” He scratched his head as he thought for a moment but quickly shook his head. He immediately regretted that and winced his displeasure. “Shit. Okay, it's not good if you can’t remember, right? Hell, I dunno. I can picture a couple of wise guys trying to drink me under the table, a hot blonde, a rigged game of Texas Hold ‘em and lots of shouting, pain, punches thrown…”

  He grinned at her. “Yeah, I guess it was an epic night. Shame I can’t remember most of it.” He lifted his shirt and winced, looking down at some of the bruises on his abdomen. “I did what I could with the worst bits of me last night. I didn’t wanna bleed all over the clean floor, but I was too tired and hammered to do most of anything else, so I took a little nap. There are better ways of waking up, but honey, I’d be happy to open my eyes to your dazzling face every day.”

  Her eyebrow lifted as she walked around the bed. While he was distracted with that, she put a small hand on his shoulder and shoved him flat on the bed. Neatly, she grabbed his ankles and swung his feet up at the same time. He fell backward with a yelp, wholly unprepared for the slick move.

  “Damn, you move fast, gorgeous,” he exclaimed. “You got me flat on my back in a blink and I don’t even know your name yet.”

  “To you, it’s Red.” She put a hand on his chest when he made to get up, and there was no arguing. He lay back, watching her as she studied the screen at the top of the bed. She was beautiful when she concentrated. “Right, handsome, you’re packing a dangerous blood-alcohol level for a human. I’m just gonna get you something for that.”

  “A full body massage, coffee, and breakfast?”

  “Oh, I have something far more efficient.” Her lips curved into a slow smile and suddenly Garrett felt a shiver go down his spine. His spidey sense tingled and from the expression on her face as she turned toward the prescription locker. He knew she was up to no good. When she turned with a small ampoule of DShP, his suspicions were confirmed.

  “Aww hell…” he groaned. DShP, better known as “The Zinger,” was a drug that almost turned hungover zombies into people, neutralizing most effects of overindulgence of alcohol. The problem was a small percentage of the population had varying kinds of reactions to it. Nothing lethal, but some suffered nothing more than hives while others felt like they were going to experience explosive diarrhea.

  She looked a bit amused at his reaction to her treatment option. “That’s funny. Your records state you’re not allergic to Zingers.”

  “No, I’m not,” he sighed. “What I hate… is the flavor.”

  Cherry. He hated it. He tried finding other flavors of Zinger, but the manufacturer seemed to be hellbent on tormenting him. To add insult to injury, the taste additives on the viscous liquid were the kind that stayed on your tongue for close to an hour, no matter how much whiskey passed the palate.

  Her lips quirked in the sexiest little grin. One with a healthy amount of amusement at his expense. “Yeah, well you wanna play with the big boys, you take the consequences. Either that or develop a metabolism like Haye.”

  Garrett knew there was no escaping this part, not unless he wanted to endure his hangover. Sometimes he could, if he felt particularly hateful of cherries that day, but today he was sore enough from the melee last night, he wasn’t willing to suffer.

  “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

  The smile on her face didn’t show even the tiniest shred of sympathy. “Don’t be such a baby.”

  Resigned to his fate, he sighed and held out his hand for the ampoule. Easily snapping off the stem with a practiced thumb, he raised the small vial in salute to his caregiver and tossed it back like a tiny shot of tequila.

  “Ugh!” he exclaimed in disgust as he quickly swallowed the liquid. The expression on his face must have been comical because his goddess was looking ridiculous, trying not to laugh. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Oh, it’s not that bad,” she replied, her voice more melodic with her barely stifled laughter. “It tastes a bit like cherry candy.”

  “I hate cherries,” he groused. “Hell, even if I gargle bleach it’ll take forever to get the taste out of my mouth.”

  “That's a shame. I like them.”

  Garrett lifted his chin to look at her, eyebrow arched curiously. “Seriously? You’re not just messing with me are you, gorgeous?”

  The angel shook her head. “No, I happen to enjoy them. When I eat cake, sometimes I leave the cherry for last.”

  Suddenly he could see her now holding that maraschino cherry by the stem and slowly taking it past those luscious red lips… He couldn’t help it. He groaned.

  Instantly, she frowned, moving closer to check the readouts on the screen above his head. “Okay, hotshot, where’s the pain?”

  Lower baby. Much lower. Garrett had been tempted to automatically reply as he watched her consult her display and then take a closer look into his eyes as if they would tell her what was wrong. Seriously, she didn’t know what kind of effect she had on him?

  “Right on my back,” he managed to effect a slightly pained tone of voice. “Just below my neck.” He cheered inwardly as her hands slid to his nape and started moving lower, following his directions. “Yeah, that’s it. Lower, a little more… there.”

  By
the time both her hands reached their mark, he couldn’t help himself and smiled as the realization of her nearness became apparent on her beautiful face. She stood between his legs, close enough for him to feel her warmth and the puff of her breath against his jaw as she all but wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Hi.” It was all he said.

  Chapter Two

  “Fucking, sneaky-ass humans,” Sedj cursed as she realized she’d been played. Then she smiled, a little quirk of her lips. “So, now exactly what do you plan to do?”

  She tilted her head to the side, watching him. Even seated, he was a little taller than she was. And he was cute, very cute. Also, which was a bonus, while he was human, he wasn’t the asshole who’d loved and left her. She’d long ago stopped judging them all based on one bad pear...or was it apple? She never could remember.

  "Well, let's say I plan to get rid of my dislike of cherries," he drawled.

  She was barely aware of his hands settling on her waist and drawing her against him. She couldn't say the same about the hardness pressing into her belly that made her knees weak. Still, she managed to find her voice. "How do you plan on doing that?"

  If actions spoke louder than words, then the way his lips slid over hers in a perfect fit screamed his intent. Her muffled gasp of surprise softened into a moan as she fell under his spell. Gods could the man kiss. He knew exactly what he was doing and gave no illusions about it. But far from an imposition it was a seduction.

  And to think he wasn’t fully recovered yet.

  Firm but patient, he kissed like they had all the time in the world. He tasted like cherries, toothpaste, and every dirty thought she’d ever had. Every bit of suction, the subtlest swipe of his tongue along the seam of her lips, teasing her until she gave in and yielded her mouth to him. With her surrender, he took what he pleased and gave what she wanted in turn.