Page 63 of Enemy of the Heart

I snort. I’m surprised he isn’t kissing the damned thing.

My attention snags on Mercer, who’s gathering his computer and whatever magazines and boxes of ammunition he can carry. When he heads upstairs, I begin to gather the various handguns and ammunition—as well as the throwing stars—and take them to our bedroom. If I want answers, I’m going to have to hunt them down myself.

The first thing I notice when I step into Mercer’s bedroom, now that I’ve dropped four handguns and a handful of star-shaped darts in our primary suite, is the snow that’s piled on the windowsill. If we stay here much longer, we’ll be stuck, assuming the sky continues to dump buckets of snow the way it has. After the coffee and workout, it feels as though the ice between us is beginning to thaw…maybe. I hope so, anyway.

The man in question is sitting on the floor, hunched over, with his back to me. When I edge closer, I find that he’s typing on the computer again.

“Mercer.”

He doesn’t respond. I’m sure losing an ear has affected his hearing, especially since it’s still bandaged up. My attention lands on the names and words on the wall. He’s clearly planning something big. Has he told Louhi about this already? If so, is she going to clue me in?

I call his name again, and he jolts briefly as I approach him, his brown eyes flicking up to me. “Yes?”

I open my mouth but slam it shut when my gaze lands on the screen boasting a familiar name. The same two words are circled on the wall above Mercer’s head—The Shadows.

“Who are you communicating with?” Smooth going, Sean.

His dark eyebrows slash low, lips thinning as his frown consumes his features. He looks eerily similar to Louhi, especially when he’s irritated. “What’s it to you?”

It’s everything to me. Louhi is my whole damn world now. What kind of guard dog would I be if her safety wasn’t my top priority?

It’s reckless to be communicating with anyone right now. If he escaped the Fifth Special Forces Group, it’s safe to assume the military is monitoring his communications. I’m pretty fucking sure they’re doing the same for Louhi. While I’m abundantly sure that my girl is taking every precaution to cover her tracks, I don’t know Mercer well enough to have the same reassurance that he’s being smart about this.

Not when something about that email drops a lead weight into the pit of my stomach.

“Does Louhi know about this?” Please say yes. That would go a long way in making me feel better.

He holds my stare. What he doesn’t realize is that I could do this all day. Until a few weeks ago, I got paid to wait people out. I outlasted almost every one of them.

“Louhi and I don’t discuss work,” he states simply, fixing his attention back on the computer, his fingers moving fast over the keyboard. It’s a dismissal, and I grind my molars against the urge to shove him against the wall and make him tell me what’s going on. But this is Louhi’s brother. I won’t touch him. The last thing I want to do is upset Lou.

“This looks like it involves her,” I grit out through clenched teeth. My fists ball tightly at my sides, and I focus on breathing so I don’t strangle him.

He glances at me once more, but says nothing. With my chest tight and blood heated, I prowl from the room then like a lion who’s spotted a meal that he plans to come back to. I find Lou in the kitchen with Jace, who’s sitting on the countertop behind her, his head resting against the cabinetry.

“Can we discuss your brother’s bedroom now?” I demand, with more bite than I intended. “He has the computer—”

She sighs. “I’ve seen the wall, or at least parts of it, but that’s his work, and we have a strict rule about not involving each other in business.”

I flick my gaze to Jace, who lifts a shoulder.

This is a matter of safety and security. She clearly thinks that her brother and I just can’t get along, which isn’t true. If he’d stop putting my girl in danger, we could be best fucking friends. I’m not unreasonable.

“I think you need to suspend that rule, Lou. If we’ve been compromised here, we need to know that.”

She’s quiet as she dumps some spices into the pot, then bends down and removes three racks of sizzling lamb chops from the oven. I know she heard me.

Letting her think over my statement, I watch Jace bring the bottle of beer in his hands to his lips. Not a bad plan.

I spin around, reaching into the refrigerator. “Grab me another, will you?” I can’t read the label, so I have no idea what kind it is that Louhi brought back, but it’s good. Jace must like it, too. He catches the bottle I toss in his direction with one hand.

Next, I uncork the bottle of Bordeaux and remove a wineglass from the cabinet, dumping a heavy pour into the globe. I can fulfill half of her wish.

When I set it next to the stove, she beams up at me, the tiny lines around her eyes crinkling, and I wonder if my stomach will stop flipping every time that expression is aimed in my direction.

I wrap my hands around her middle and brush a kiss to the top of her head.

“Baby,” I murmur against the shell of her ear. “I’m worried about you, about us, about your brother. Can we address the wall art?” Please.