It pained me to answer, but I’d never been much of a liar. “Nope.”
“I see.”
Her tone and expression were both neutral, giving away nothing, but the wheels spun in her head as she doubtlessly wondered how I could be sorry for something I had no memory of.
I’d wondered the same thing.
“Where’s your car?” I asked.
Mom linked her arm in Mercy’s and said, “We’re walking.”
My eyes flitted to the open door, taking in the dark streets, barely warmed by the impending dawn. “You think that’s safe?”
Irritation sparked in Mercy’s eyes.
What the hell did I say last night?
“Yes, I do. Thank you for your concern, but it’s a couple of blocks, we do it all the time, and I have pepper spray.” She patted her purse as though that should reassure me.
“Yeah? Well, bad guys have guns.”
Mercy’s jaw ticked, and I got the distinct impression she wanted to tell me to go fuck myself.
This was stupid. She was clearly already pissed at me, and I was supposed to be on my best behavior. I should stop arguing with her, but what was the fun in that? Everything about the woman made me want to poke her with a stick to see how she’d react.
My pulse quickened as my gaze raked over her kick-ass figure before returning to meet her blazing eyes.
Preferably with my stick.
“My friend and employer and I are walking, Landon,” Mom said, cutting me a warning look. “Come on, Mercy.”
The reminder of Mercy’s authority over my mom hit me like an ice cube down the back of my shirt.
What am I doing?
Feeling like an asshole for my behavior, I said, “Wait. I’ll walk with you. Give me a minute to get some shoes.”
My boots were right by the front door, so I stuffed my feet in and bent to lace them up. The stench from my armpits slapped me across the face and made my eyes water. Thanks to overbooked flights and a weather delay that caused me to miss my layover at LAX, I hadn’t showered in days. With the addition of yesterday’s whiskey binge, I smelled ripe.
Perfect. Seemed I’d be making all the best impressions on Mom’s sexy boss.
Then again, why did I care? She could think whatever the fuck she wanted about me.
I’d be gone in twenty days.
4
Mercy
“WHERE ARE YOU?” I asked through gritted teeth, leaving yet another voicemail for my brother. My irritation had long since turned into worry, which was likely giving me an ulcer. “Last chance, Ben. I’m about to do something seriously idiotic unless you call me right back.”
My brother didn’t respond. No surprise there, considering I hadn’t heard a peep from him since Thursday morning, when he’d assured me he’d be over Friday night for dinner. When Ben didn’t show, I immediately tried to find his cell through the carrier of our shared plan. Its last known location was the warehouse where Ben worked, and it hasn’t been online since Thursday night. I’d assume he’d lost it or left it at work if he hadn’t missed our dinner. So now I was having a mini panic attack in the staff bathroom, praying to any god that would listen that my trouble-magnet brother’s phone was the only thing dead right now.
I should never have let him move out.
But since I no longer had guardianship, there hadn’t been a thing I could do to stop him from moving in with his girl of the month. Ben hadn’t even given me her number, claiming he didn’t want his big sister cramping his style.
I stuffed my phone into the pocket of my slacks and gave myself a pep talk in the mirror, ending with a self-high-five. The idea had come from a self-help podcast I’d listened to on the treadmill last night. Though the gesture didn’t immediately bolster my confidence—it felt more silly than empowering—the science behind it was sound. And I needed all the help I could get.
