I can’t keep the chuckle from bursting out of me. We might need to work on his covert operations skills.
Mercy’s sweet, melodious laughter floats through the room, cocooning me in a warmth I never thought would be mine, as she announces every place she’s searching. “They’re not in the closet. They’re not behind the curtains. They’re not under the bed.”
“She’s getting closer,” I whisper in his ear, and he kicks his feet with a squeal of excitement, smooshing his plush bulldog between us.
That does it for Mercy. She whips the covers back, beaming as bright as a fucking supermoon as she tickles him. “I found you, sweet pea.”
I drag her on top of us into a family pileup that surpasses every dream I ever had. If I could live only one day over and over again, it would be a lot like this one. Both of them safe in my arms, happy, together, choosing to be with me.
A nagging notion that it could all be ripped away from me slithers down my spine. It’s been three days since we received the photograph. Mercy fell apart for a little while afterward, but then a fresh wave of ire flooded her, and she insisted that she would not be terrorized. That she was going to keep living her life because she had run from it before and that had felt like dying. My brave girl lifted her chin, determined not to let that psychotic threat beat her down.
It was heartening and gutting at once. Because I’m starting to think this might all have more to do with me than her. Axel is on the same page for that possibility. I’m not sure how deep that goes, if that includes her history with Dalton from the start. Part of me believes that’s reaching, my fears getting the best of me. I’ve been on edge about her being caught in the crossfire of my business affairs since Axel and I inherited La Lune Noire. That’s why I pushed her away, adamant that she attended college and did not keep in touch with me. Her being hurt was always a concern.
So, maybe these worries now are simply paranoia.
But the other part of me glimpses the pieces of a puzzle that have Noire connections.
Trafton’s body—my member—thrown at our facility is one.
The fabricated email sent to me from Monroe Montgomery’s address is another. Only someone who knew I’d had previous discussions with him regarding Mercy would have chosen that as a tool.
The package addressed to Mercy and me is yet one more. Monroe Montgomery is the most obvious candidate to send that photograph, and Mercy couldn’t think of anyone else likely. The police had never been involved in Mercy’s case. Ty’s team salvaged some evidence and took pictures before the cleaners arrived so we’d have them if we needed them later, but I intended to handle Dalton myself—a source of contention between Mercy and me. It’s also the reason Dalton vanished before my car was turned off in his drive. He knew I was planning to kill him. But the house? That was swept and eventually sold. And I can’t fathom why Monroe would incite Mercy or me with that photograph. It doesn’t add up.
Regardless, Axel viewed the photograph as a means to provoke me. A trigger for Mercy? Yes. But based on everything else, it being the pebble to cause an avalanche of my hostility is more likely.
Even years ago, the fact that Dalton refused to leave when I got him a career-making job as a patent attorney for a huge tech company was baffling. The salary was massive with perks that would have given him bragging rights, especially considering his own father had ousted him from being chosen by The Order. I thought he’d turned it down because he was in love with Mercy. Maybe that was why, but maybe not.
And then to find out that the fight he and Mercy had when he finally lost it had been centered upon me? That’s alarming,and something tells me it was more than jealousy about my relationship with her, though I suspect that was part of it too.
Dalton called someone after he hurt Mercy, and whoever that someone is, they aren’t coming after just her. They’re directing everything to me or both of us.
So, I’ve been trying to decompress and keep a clear head. Liam Graves—a member of Ty’s team—is a tech wizard, so he’s trying to get us a location on that email, though that’s a stretch. And they have a forensics guy sweeping the photograph and packaging. They’re also digging into everything they can about Trafton.
Hopefully, we’ll get some answers soon. My first priority is to ensure Mercy is safe. But I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t sick to my stomach at the possibility of her realizing her torment has been all about me and choosing to bolt again. Could I even blame her?
For now, I’m trying to bask in her glow. She’s finding the strength to live, to fight through the lasting impact of her trauma. And I’m so fucking proud. I’m desperate to be a catalyst for her healing, the man who builds her back up. But I’m starting to wonder if it’s the opposite.
Mercy ruffles Remy’s hair. “You are the best hider there ever was. I bet you’re hungry from hiding so well.”
He puffs his chest up with pride as he squirms out of our hold. “I am. Ryker-friend is a good hider too.” And then he’s off, headed toward the door, muttering about a snack.
His name for me burrows into all those hollow aches I nursed the last few years. I wouldn’t mind if we graduated it to something more permanent at some point. That’s probably a long shot. I doubt Mercy will want him to have the Noire last name or … but I’m grateful for every minute I get to have with him. So, I consider that title an honor.
“Ryker-friend is good at a lot of things.” Mercy presses her lips to mine, a smile curving them as she purrs into the swift kiss. “Hungry?”
I cup the sides of her face and nip her lower lip. “For you? Always.”
“Good.” She glances over her shoulder, anxious to follow Remy out. “Hey, can you promise me something?”
“Anything.”
She furrows her brows to that, correctly assuming there could be limitations in that department, though only regarding her being away from me. “Get Rena here for Jax.”
I had already been working on that, but as we climb off the bed, I keep my response simple, grateful that she cares about my family so much. “Consider it done.”
When we enter the kitchen, Axel has already had the cooks set out an elaborate afternoon feast. This is something we used to do for Jax and Rena when they were small. Even Maddox and Cash enjoyed it. But with all of them adults, we’ve abandoned snack time. It’s clearly rife with nostalgia for everyone because all my brothers are here.
Maddox pops a grape into his mouth, holding it inside his cheek for a beat. “It’s like charcuterie boards gone wild in here.”
