“Start talking,” he said softly.
She sighed. “Fine. We’ve been close since birth.” Her voice saddened. “I don’t know a thing about my genetic donors that I haven’t learned by seeing photographs or reading dossiers. I don’t know what they smelled like, laughed like, felt like. But Sandy and Trina, I know everything about them.”
He kept an eye on the gauges and made a quick course correction. “I lost my dad when I was young, too. Sometimes it still hurts when I least expect it.”
She turned toward him, her gaze running across his face. Then she nodded. “Yeah. But at least you had your brothers.”
True. He never would’ve made it without his brothers. “You said genetic donors? What’s the deal?”
She sighed. “I guess my people were knowingly doing risky science in trying to combine a couple of dimensions to create paradise, and the strongest left behind genetic material just in case. In a safe dimension.”
“Enough to make ten babies?” He remembered her words from earlier.
“Yep. The rest of our remaining people are thousands of years old. Too old to procreate.”
That was truly insane. He cleared his throat, trying to keep her engaged. “Trina and Sandy became your family?”
For the first time in too long, Mercy smiled. “Yes. Trina is kind of the wild one, while Sandy is the voice of reason. I’m the organized one. We banded together, tried to find happiness where we could.”
“When you’re not heading out on futile missions, what do you do?” He wanted to know more about her before they had to separate.
She shrugged. “Even when we lived off-world, I’d come here to manage our investments. We knew that we’d need capital and land if we ever had to return, so I manage all of our portfolios. Playing the stock markets and moving real estate is a little like gambling for me. I love it.” She sniffed. “That’s probably seriously boring for you.”
Sounded interesting. He’d always liked intelligent women.
She perked up. “Right before I left for this mission, I took the precaution of neutralizing our stock portfolio by matching our holdings to the SMP100.” Her frown was beyond cute. “Even though that has the disadvantage of increasing my turnover ratio and generating capital gains on which we’ll have to pay taxes in the USA, it does give me peace of mind.”
Never in his life would he have considered taxes to be sexy. Until now. “Sounds like a good plan.” It was truly enjoyable to watch her mind at work.
“I’ve also started planning operations like the one where we took you. We sent out the info that I was a Key in a way that you guys would be sure to respond to.”
True. He lost his amusement. They’d done a good job of suckering him in. “That was your plan?”
She nodded vigorously, her wild, wet hair flying around her slim shoulders. “Yes. Then I sent Trina to acquire some of our hidden assets, and I sent Sandy as backup. She’s the best shot among us. She’s really good.”
“Your people have overestimated your fighting skills,” he said mildly. “You’re a Key, and apparently your people value you. Putting yourself in danger like you did shows an alarming lack of knowledge when it comes to my species.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it again. The color slid away from her cheeks. “You’re right. We had no idea.” She shivered.
He wanted to kick himself in the head. She’d just calmed down, and he’d reminded her of his two most recent kills. Damn it. When he’d heard her cry out after the second Cyst grabbed her, he’d gone into fight mode without a thought to her sensibilities. “I’m sorry you had to see that fight.”
She turned back to the now calm sky.
His temples began to ache. Then another thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute. If you’re involved in planning ops, you must know about any to take my niece. Is there a plan to kidnap Hope?”
Mercy turned toward him, her different-colored eyes soft. “There will be. We haven’t come up with it yet.”
His shoulders straightened and his spine stiffened. “I won’t let that happen. You know that, right?”
She turned away from him again, her voice muffled. “I know.”
* * * *
Hope Kyllwood watched from the sofa as her mama finished doing yoga poses on the living room floor. “Can’t I do some?” she asked. Again.
Her mama looked up, blue eyes sparkling. “No. Little girls with possible concussions need to take it easy. Finish your ice cream.”
Hope rolled her eyes, looking down into her empty bowl. She’d already finished. The prophesy mark on her neck started to itch a little, so she scratched it casually.
