Page 98 of Gorgeous Misery

Sasha smiles. “Cousin-brother-in-law?”

“It actually makes sense.”

She waves a hand. “Yes. I know who Zach is.”

“So I go down to Key West where this Zach guy lives and park in front of his house. And I wasn’t there ten minutes scoping shit out when he appears, walks over to my car, and says, ‘I think I know you.’”

“What did you say?”

“We argued about that a bit.”

Sasha chuckles.

“But turns out, he did know me. At least, of me, OK? And then he says, ‘Nick Tate,’ Sasha. Nick Tate used my name as a threat back when Cabal Island was going down.”

Sasha makes a face. “What the hell is Cabal Island?”

I point at her. “That’s what I said. And he said that while you were doing Kansas, they—like thousands of ‘thems’—were all down in the Caribbean fucking shit up for the Company elites and they call this operation Cabal Island.”

“So Nick was there?”

“He was there.”

“But he was with me—” She stops. Because of course, Nick was not with her.

“That was his brother, Santos.”

“His brother?” Her voice is low now. Almost a whisper. And then she’s silent for a moment and I can almost hear all the wheels inside her head spinning around as she puts this all together. “I knew that wasn’t him.” She looks up at me. “I fucking knew. That wasn’t him. I told Jax that when he took me to that FBI safehouse. I know you never saw it, but he had thousands of pictures, Merc. Of this guy who looked just like Nick if you erased all the crazy drug-lord tattoos and facial scars. I fucking knew that wasn’t him.”

“It wasn’t him.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, this Zach guy was actually pretty helpful. He said I was a legend, that he’d been dying to meet me—”

“Merc. No one cares about your legendary status. What happened next?”

“He knew Creepy Wendy and after I promised not to hurt her, he told me about her stomping grounds so I could go look for her.”

“So you lied to him.”

“I didn’t hurt her.”

“You kidnapped her.”

“And drugged her. And… got inside her mind. But I was on a new mission now, right?”

“Find Nick Tate.”

“And here we are.”

“Why am I here again?”

“I need your advice. Because OK, I found Nick. That’s cool, I guess. I can get over the betrayal if you can. But”—I point at her—“if you want to stay angry, I’m on your side. I will hate that fucker until the day he dies.”

She waves a hand at me. “Whatever. What do you want to ask me, Merc? I want to go home.”

“This Donovan thing.”