The Mercenary's Girl {BWWM} (SLOW UPDATES)

💣One~ Fallen Angel

A/N: I decided to do Trent's story with a little twist. He gets his second chance in an unexpected way with a certain unexpected someone.

So I was listening to some Alicia Keys while writing this. I think the song Un-thinkable fits great with Trent and his little unexpected present.

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The mechanical beast roared beneath him and Trenton James never felt so alive and exhilarated. He picked up speed and dashed through the city. Taking a ride was his time to clear his mind with not a single place as a destination. This time he had a destination: 5th and Lane. There, he would meet his contact. "They" offered him another job. Although he wanted to spend more time with his son playing some Metal Gear over XBOX live, this was a very important job.

He pulled into the abandon lot noticing the inconspicuous black vehicle. The windows were tented but he knew who would be inside waiting for him. "Ms. Z," he greeted folding his six three and thickly muscled frame into the confined space. Her bleach blonde bangs spilled over her huge designer sunglasses. She wore a black fur coat over a black shirt and black leather tights. Trent has never seen her eyes.

"James," she returns his clipped and cold greeting. "We have another assignment for you."

"I wouldn't fucking be here if you didn't."

"Charming," she clipped and pulled out a dossier and handed it to him. He took it eagerly. The corner of her thin lips upturned in a half smile. "Someone's been very bored lately.... His name is Antonio Marcello, a kingpin." She quickly switched to business. "Apparently Mr. Marcello has bitten off more than he could chew." Trent opened the file. "He's actually ex-military both him and a small band of his henchmen. Drugs isn't the only thing they've been slanging. Mr. Marcello has been selling government secrets to the Russians. We've put a spy on him, feeding us Intel about Marcello's affairs. Unfortunately we have reasons to believe he's been compromised...

Isis struggled to stay on her feet, leaving a trail of blood behind her. She was beaten, bloody, and bruised. It was Halloween night and most people just thought she was wearing a costume as she limped through the streets. Some idiots even complimented her on the "make-up". Her mind was in shock and hadn't registered the gun shot wound in her left shoulder. The men who did this to her worked for the Kingpin Antonio Marcello. Her brother Trey owed the ruthless kingpin 25,000 dollars in drug money. They kidnapped and beaten her to send Trey a message. After her brother warned her to get out of town, Marcello's henchmen found her. Isis barely escaped with her life. She didn't deserve this. She was innocent- just a art major at the local university and a part time hostess at a diner. Never done any harm to anyone in her life. She could hate her brother if her mind wasn't so muddled from the pain. A heavy fit of sleep threatened to claim her. All she wanted to do was lay down somewhere and rest. Hospitals were out of the question. Surely Marcello's men would be looking for her there to finish the job.

She stumbled upon a quiet underground garage and limped inside. Isis went as far as her battered legs could take her. She didn't have any ounce of strength left. Tears burned her eyes as she fell to the concrete ground. An explosion of pain reverberated all through her body as she noticed the gunshot wound. She howled in pain and gritted her teeth.

The loud purr of a motorcycle filled the underground garage then died as the owner parked. The sound of heavy boots echoed filling the silence. "Help me," she tried to scream and failed. It took energy, energy she did not have. "Please hel-

Her words died as a strong feeling of fear rose up from the pit of her stomach. Six foot three of rock solid muscles stood before her. His large frame was clad in denim, leather, and tattooed boots with chains. He looked dangerous and threatening. Crystal eyes were cold and calculating like he murdered dozens of people and didn't posses any qualm about it. No, this wasn't the typical bad boy type. He was something much more lethal judging by her gut instinct and the killer's stare he wore. Plus there was nothing boyish about this man. But still she couldn't deny he was incredibly sexy and intensely masculine. Full lips pressed into a firm line as he examined her. His thick dark hair fell forward partially shielding his face like curtains. There was a scar that ran from his eyebrow to beneath his eye. It didn't dim his good looks one bit. In fact it added to his masculine and overtly manly appeal right along with that unshaven jaw. She liked men with facial hair. In spite of her predicament she grew embarrassed of the way she was checking him out and the way her body responded. It was a good distraction from the pain. Yeah... he was just that good looking.