Lessons Learned (Mission Mercenaries #1) Read Online Marie James

Categories Genre: Action, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Romance, Taboo Tags Authors: Series: Mission Mercenaries Series by Marie James
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
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If he was the last one I needed to take down, I’d spend a few quiet moments watching the milk mix with the blood draining from his body. The swirl of red always intrigues me.

The guy raping the other woman in the corner dies last because he’s the one that posed the least amount of threat to me. His distraction only allows for a few seconds longer in this world.

She screams when he falls forward, pinning her to the bed with more force than he was using to hurt her.

A decent guy would help her, but that woman isn’t my focus.

Lauren’s eyes flutter as I inch closer to her, and I can immediately tell she has no life-threatening injuries, but she’s not herself either.

The used needles discarded on the floor near her bed mean either some form of paralytic or possibly heroine.

But it doesn’t matter right now.

A lot of things shouldn’t matter right now, but the way I want to grip her fucking neck and warn her of what’s coming from me is trying to beat all other emotions out.

The urge to fuck her right into this dirty mattress hits me pretty hard.

It’s beyond fucked up, absolutely fucking terrible to think of something like that, but that doesn’t stop my eyes from drifting over her battered body. Doesn’t keep my mouth from watering at the need to reclaim her as mine.

When she sees my face, she tries to speak, but it comes out a mess of syllables that make no sense.

A thump across the room draws my attention, but my weapon trains on the woman in the corner who finally managed to get the dead man off of her. She stares at me in terror, and I’m not shocked by it. It’s not unheard of for one group of traffickers to raid another’s location to steal their product. Sometimes it’s easier because collection is usually the hardest part. It’s what brings the most heat, depending on where they’re abducting women.

She knows not to be relieved because she has no idea which camp I’m in right now.

I turn my attention back to Lauren. I really need to grab her and get the fuck out of here, but she’s fucking filthy, covered in spit and cum. My stomach rolls at the sight of her.

For good measure, I walk around the room, putting two more bullets in each of the dead men. It’s fruitless. It makes no difference. Each of my first shots were true, ending them quickly, showing a mercy they didn’t deserve.

When I drop low beside Lauren, she tries to lift her arm. I know what she wants. She’s pointing at one of the other beds, but those women aren’t my focus.

She’s relentless, however, managing to wiggle and growl as I reach down to lift her up.

I glare at her eyes, and even in her drugged state she manages to glare back. I’m ready to refuse, but it’s the sight of a single tear rolling down her temple that forces me into action.

With frustrated steps, I make my way across the room, pulling a knife from my pocket. I make quick work of cutting through the ropes tying two women down. Each of them shies away from me, terrified of what I might be capable of.

I don’t open my mouth to assure them they’re fine. I don’t urge them to get away. They have to make those decisions on their own. I’m not their fucking savior. I’m making a mental list of what Lauren will owe me for forcing me to waste my time.

The woman in the corner, the one who was actively getting raped isn’t tied up at all. She’s curled up in a ball in the corner. It seems these guys liked their women in different states of captivity.

When she looks up at me, I just point at the fucking door before heading back to Lauren.

“I’m not fucking carrying all of them out of here. They can unlock the goddamned door and leave if they want.”

She nods, her throat working on what looks like an incredibly painful swallow. It hits me in the chest, making me pity her for a second before I can shove it down. There will be time to express my disappointment in her later. Now is not the fucking time.

She whimpers when I stand and head back to the bathroom, but I ignore her. It’s another way for me to punish her, and I hate that it doesn’t feel right.

It takes forever for the water to warm, but I’m not exactly concerned about her comfort. What I do know is that I’m not taking her into my truck covered in another man’s cum.

She’s dead weight in my arms as I lift her from the mattress. Although I’m not exactly gentle as I place her in the tub, I do go as far as making sure she doesn’t drown despite wanting to shove her head under the water for a few seconds.


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