Mercy snuggled up close when we finally fell into bed, both of us basking in the idea of being a family and grateful to havemade it to the other side of a horrific experience. But she tossed and turned on her tear-soaked pillow until nearly dawn, when I woke up to Ty’s call. That was about an hour ago. I was hoping she’d drift off and get some good sleep this morning. It appears she’s resigned to her insomnia.
She ambles toward my desk, setting one of the mugs down and kissing my cheek. “Was that Ty who called?”
“It was.” I keep working on my laptop and don’t expand, hoping she won’t ask for more.
She stands beside me, her jaded brown eyes narrowing as she stares at me over the rim of her steaming coffee cup. “And?”
The sweet and smoky aroma of the chicory wafts around us, reminiscent of burnt sugar, mixing with her delicious cherry-dessert scent. But that does nothing to ease my anxiety. I can’t shake that unnerving anvil weighing on me.
“I think it’s best if you let me handle it from here. I’ll update you when I have firm details.”
She sets her cup down, drags one of the office chairs beside me, and plops into it. “I hear what you’re saying. And I promise when it comes to leaving the resort, I’m going to defer to you. For a while anyway. You have a far better grip on this twisted shit than I do. I should’ve listened. But don’t keep me in the dark now. I can’t be … I’m scared and angry. But I’m also empowered. I fought back yesterday. I probably wouldn’t have survived if you hadn’t shown up, but I held my own.”
I tuck a wild chocolate strand of her hair behind her ear. It’s a small piece of the old Mercy poking through, matching her reemerging fiery spirit.
“You did so good.”
“I did, and I didn’t.” She glances out the floor-to-ceiling windows, toward the cityscape where she was accosted. “He’s playing a game, and something tells me I’m losing.”
I’ve had that same nagging perspective since she detailed everything he’d told her, but I’m not sure if hers is an inkling or based on something he said. “What makes you say that?”
“One of the last things he said to me was that my father had a choice and so do I. That line kept taunting me all night. I’m not sure what he expected me to do first. Call Emma? He couldn’t have honestly thought I’d keep my mouth shut due to the attorney-client privilege in this situation. And I don’t think those guys were supposed to hurt me, which had me feeling guilty for a while. I took a life, which turns so many things upside down. It’s one thing if …”
She shakes her head, lost to her thoughts. “Maybe this is how people’s principles gradually disintegrate—one shaky, questionable act at a time. But if I could have a do-over, I’d kill Dalton to get away. Because he was evil. Which is why I talked myself out of guilt about what had happened yesterday. The bailiff had given me no indication he didn’t intend me harm, other than meaningless words, so …”
Mercy has always been strong. Even when she shut down after her attack and ran, she did what a lot of people would’ve been terrified to do. She started over with nothing. But I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t a bit thrown off by the clarity of her thoughts. I hoped she wouldn’t realize the manipulation Bryce had intended, but I should have known better. Of course she dissected every second of yesterday, determined to understand it. And capable of shouldering it.
She sips her coffee, breathing in the cozy chicory that she’s always lived for, but it’s obvious there’s more on her mind, so I wait, and she finally comes back to me. “I really think those guys were just meant to get me out of the way so you’d be chasing me, not him. So I’d have to decide what to do. That’s what that was—some sort of sick lesson relating to my father.” Her brows furrow. “But of course I’d tell you, so I’m at a loss.”
She’s right. He would have expected her to tell me.
“I’ve had several of the same thoughts, which is exactly why I don’t want you anywhere near this.” When her jaw locks and she’s ready to fight me, I tack on a counterargument before she has time to expel hers. “I believe in you as my partner, my queen, here at La Lune Noire. And, yes, we deal with corrupt individuals. But Bryce is in a whole other class. I want you as removed as possible from anything to do with this psychopath. You’ve been through enough, Merce.”
She rolls her lips together as she mulls over her request. “I can’t hide from this anymore. I need to be—”
She’s cut off by the buzzing of my phone across the desk. A pang of frustration lances my sternum, but I don’t keep it from her. Flipping it over, I find the link from Ty and a text.
Ty: In position. Our heat sensors indicate only two bodies inside. Should be a smooth extraction. Moving in now.
Mercy’s head whips toward me. “They found him?”
“Yes. Why don’t you go get breakfast with Remy? Axel had all your favorites catered in this morning. I’ll let you know how it goes in a little while.”
“What’s the link for?” she presses.
I scrub both hands over my face, not wanting her in here, but also unwilling to sacrifice another second of seeing what’s happening with Ty and Gage. “I’m going to watch them grab Bryce. Please just let me … I don’t want you to see it.”
The vulnerability I can’t mask must finally convince her. She nods, gathering her coffee and dragging her chair back to where it goes while I click the link. My screen immediately fills with a glimpse of Ty’s rifle, a two-story beach house, and a snippet of Gage not far from it, seen through tall, wispy grass.
The porch light flicks on, and Ty’s low voice bleeds through the body cam, along with the roar of the waves behind him. “I’ve got movement near the back entrance. Hold position.”
Mercy stalls five feet from the threshold. “The text said two bodies inside. Is Emma with him?”
I don’t answer because the screen door on the porch swings open and Bryce moseys out. Maybe he’s going for a morning stroll. He’s wearing a baseball hat, jeans, a shabby tee, and sandals. Not a care in the world after inflicting utter havoc on an entire courthouse yesterday. He plucks a folding chair from the side of the house and carries it out toward the end of the curved walkway, which provides a quaint area to watch the sunrise over the ocean. It has him traipsing toward Ty, growing closer to the camera, though not straight on.
Ty is a trained sniper, so he’s surely well hidden. His gravelly instruction for Gage steals my attention. “Tango is approaching but unarmed. Hold fire.”
If they weren’t bringing him back here alive for me, they’d have already shot him. That thought coils around me, making my chest tight.
