Beg for Mercy

by Jami Alden

  The passage opened up to a cavernous two-story room with cells lining the top floor. In the silence, Megan could hear deep breathing, snores, the sounds of bodies shifting in sleep.

  Joe led them through the common area and out toward the visiting area. “You can wait here.” He ushered them into a small room containing a table and two chairs.

  Minutes later, Megan heard the metallic clank of handcuffs as Joe led Sean into the room.

  She burst into tears. His face was mottled with bruises. His right cheekbone was purple and swollen, and he had a line of stitches over his right eyebrow.

  Megan flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh God, it’s so good to see you.” It took her several seconds to realize Sean was flinching away.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Her stomach dropped. He didn’t sound happy to see her.

  “And what the fuck is he doing here?” Sean asked, his angry stare locked on Cole.

  “He’s helping me,” Megan said, and reached out to put a reassuring hand on Sean’s arm. He jerked away and she felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. “What happened?” She reached a hand toward his face but dropped it before she touched him.

  “I lost it on a guard and got the shit beat out of me,” he said coldly. He turned again to Cole. “Why the hell am I being dragged out of my cell in the middle of the night? I don’t want her to see me like this.”

  She winced at his tone. Sean didn’t want to see her again before he died. Period. He’d made that clear.

  “I needed to see you and make sure you were okay, and try to convince you to call Brockner to file an appeal first thing tomorrow,” Megan said.

  Sean shook his head. His dark brows drew into a frown as he shook his head. “I’m not doing that. I don’t know what the cop’s part is in all of this, but unless you’ve found the real killer and enough evidence to back it up and get me out of here, I don’t want any part of it. I’m done with this.”

  Something in Megan snapped. “You’re done? You’re done? You think you can just say you’re done and I’m going to say, ‘Okay, Sean,’ and slink off into the corner to cry?” she shouted, shoving him at a chair, ignoring his wince of pain. She sat down in the chair across from him. “I almost got killed trying to find information that will save your ass.” She tugged at the collar of her shirt, exposing her bruises to the harsh fluorescent lights. Since yesterday afternoon, they’d darkened to a lurid purple. “I’ve done everything I can possibly think of to help you in the last three years, so the least you can do is give me the goddamned time of day before you let them kill you.”

  Sean’s complexion went pale under his own bruises.

  He listened silently, the grooves on either side of his mouth deepening as she detailed everything they’d discovered. Every once in a while Cole would remind her of a detail or tell her to clarify a piece of information, which she would relay to Sean. By the time she finished, Sean was sitting back in his chair, his manacled wrists resting on the table, his stare moving right past her to a point about a thousand miles in the distance.

  Finally his focus turned back on her, and her stomach sank at the grim resolve etched into his face. “It’s not enough. Just a few random bits of information that may or may not connect the victims, but there’s nothing that will get me out of here.”

  “We just need more time,” Megan said, wishing she could grab Sean by the hair and beat some sense into him. “It doesn’t look like much now, but if we keep looking—”

  Sean’s laugh echoed through the room like a gunshot. “Right. More time for you to follow leads that go nowhere, getting yourself hurt, possibly killed in the process, while I’m rotting away in this hole waiting for a fucking miracle that’s never going to come. Look at me, Megan.” He gestured at his brutalized face. “I’m gonna be dead soon no matter what. They don’t need to strap me to a gurney to kill me.”

  This wasn’t the way this was supposed to go. He was supposed to believe in her, in the possibility that she would uncover the truth, but he had to give her more time. Why was she the only one who believed, who had to carry the crushing weight of hope on her shoulders when everyone else had given up? She was staggering, suffocating under it.

  How easy it would be to let it go, let it crash to the earth and take her with it, drag her down to a place where she could finally stop fighting.

  Cole came up behind her and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.

  It was enough. Enough to remind her that she wasn’t alone in this. Cole didn’t share her unwavering faith, but he was here; he was searching for answers alongside her, willing to consider the possibility of an answer that didn’t lead to her brother’s guilt.

  The burden lightened and she felt steely determination take root in her spine. “It’s not just me looking at this, Sean. Cole has been helping me, and earlier today we took everything we found to DPA Slater—”

  Sean’s snort cut her off. “Krista Fucking Slater? If she uses that information for anything at all, it will be to make sure they give me an extra dose of Pentathol just to make sure I’m extra dead.”

  “Krista’s got more integrity than anyone in that office,” Cole said.

  Sean snorted. “Like that’s saying something.”

  “Having Krista on our side lends a lot more credibility to our theory,” Cole said quietly.

  More credible than the sister of a convicted murderer and the cop who was sleeping with her, Megan knew. “Cole’s right. He trusts her, and so do I,” she said, not even realizing it until she said it out loud. As much as she wanted to hate Slater and believe she’d use any ammunition to feed Sean to the wolves, Megan could sense a core of honesty in the woman. Slater had gone after Sean because she’d believed they had the right man. Though Megan resented the woman’s zeal for nailing her brother to the wall, she knew Slater wouldn’t have gone after Sean if she’d had any doubt he was guilty.

  Now Megan hoped Slater would go after the truth with similar dedication.

  Sean was silent as he absorbed that.

  “Tgo aftisn’t just me running down shadows, Sean. Slater’s looking at your case. Talia’s going to tell us what she knows about Evangeline and everything else. But none of it will matter if you don’t do something to stop yourself from getting killed.”

  Chapter 18

  Cole watched as Megan stood and walked over to Sean and wrapped her arms around him. “Pl

  ease call Brockner. Please buy us a little more time,” she whispered.

  Sean took a deep, shuddering breath and buried his head in Megan’s shoulder. He didn’t make any promises.

  Megan straightened and said, “I guess we should go.”

  Sean sat motionless in the chair, his head bent as though he couldn’t bear to look at her. He looked beaten down in a way that had nothing to do with the bruises mottling his face. The years in custody had whittled Sean’s body down to muscle and bone. His skin was tight over sharp cheekbones and the blunt edge of his chin. Under the short sleeves of his prison jumpsuit, his biceps bulged like softballs under his skin, his arms practically an anatomy lesson of tendons, muscle, and veins pushing through skin gone pale from lack of sun.

  “Wait,” Sean said. “I want to talk to you.” He lifted his head to look at Cole. “Alone.” Even as Sean sat, motionless, Cole could sense the energy humming through his body.

  “I can’t—” Joe started.

  “It’s fine,” Cole cut him off. “I’ll be fine.”

  “If you get hurt or killed—”

  “He won’t kill him,” Megan snapped. “You better not kill him,” she said to Sean.

  Sean just held up his cuffed hands. “Couldn’t if I wanted to.”

  Cole wasn’t so sure, but it was a risk he needed to take. “We’re good.”

  Joe didn’t look sure either, but he escorted Megan out and locked the door behind him.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister, Williams?”


  Cole had felt this coming and was ready when Sean leaped out of the chair like a mountain lion. Even cuffed, Sean had him slammed against the wall, fists digging into Cole’s throat.

  Cole gave him a sharp jab in the ribs. Sean dropped like a rock and gasped in pain. “I’m trying to keep her safe.”

  “How?” Sean gasped. “By leading her on, giving her false hope, pretending to help her with my case so you can get close enough to fuck her?”

  Cole hid a grimace. While he liked to think his intentions were noble, Sean’s comment pricked at his conscience. “Megan was putting herself in danger, tracking down leads she had no business chasing. I was afraid someone was going to hurt her, and I was right.”

  “What exactly happened?” Sean asked as he slumped back into a chair.

  Cole took the seat across from him. As he explained how he’d found Megan in that hotel room, the masked man’s fingers squeezing her windpipe, the feral rage that had overwhelmed him at the scene surged forth once again, along with the sick fear of seeing Megan hurt, nearly dying in front of him.

  He could see his rage mirrored in Sean, whose knuckles were stark white as his fists clenched. There was something else in Sean’s gaze, beyond the rage. Helplessness, and the despair that went with it. The sick sense of futility that came from knowing someone you loved suffered and having no ability whatsoever to help them.

  Cole could relate. He’d felt it when Kelly was killed and the years passed with no more clues to the identity of her killer. And he’d felt it that night when he’d arrested Sean, and again at Sean’s sentencing hearing, when he’d watched Megan shatter with grief and had not been able to do anything to ease her pain.

  “So you saved her from that fucker,” Sean said. “I owe you for that. But you have to stop her. She’s going to get killed, and we both know she’s not going to find anything.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that.”

  Sean’s swollen lips curled into a sneer. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up her cause. You think I’m innocent now?”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure you’re guilty.”

  “Better than nothing.” Sean fixed his unwavering stare on Cole. “I didn’t kill that woman.”

  Something shifted in Cole’s gut at the look on Sean’s face, something that had nagged at him from the very beginning. Cole had learned a lot about human nature in his years on the force. He had honed those instincts, developing his expertise as an interrogator, and he prided himself on being able to spot a liar a mile away. And his gut insisted that Sean Flynn wasn’t lying to him now.

  Yet three years ago, when he’d arrested and interrogated Sean, Cole had been one hundred percent sure Sean was lying through his teeth when he said he didn’t kill Evangeline, and they had the incontrovertible evidence to back it up. When he’d finally gotten Sean to admit that it was possible that he had killed Evangeline and not remembered it, Cole had treated it as a confession.

  Now, staring across the table at Sean, Cole couldn’t shake the sick feeling that maybe he’d been more wrong about Sean than he’d ever been about anything.

  What had changed? Was he so far gone under Megan’s spell that he could no longer trust his instincts?

  Or was he finally seeing through to the truth after all this time?

  What he and Megan had discovered called everything about Sean’s case into question. “You were the only one there that night.”

  Sean shook his head. “I kept saying I thought I remembered someone there.”

  “Right, someone whose face you never saw, whose voice you never heard, who left no trace of himself in your house.”

  Sean gave a mirthless laugh. “Yeah. The guy everyone decided was actually just me and that I was hallucinating or having some kind of psychotic break or some shit.”

  At the time Cole had accepted the explanation. Now he wondered if there had been another man, one they’d never bothered to look for.

  Jesus, what if Sean had been telling the truth the whole time?

  To hell with it. He couldn’t change the past, but he could sure as shit do everything in his power to uncover the truth, no matter where it led. “Tell me everything you remember about the guy.”

  Confusion flickered in Sean’s eyes. “I don’t remember anything. That’s the fucking problem.”

  “Try.” Cole had spent years guiding suspects and witnesses, helping them conjure the smallest of details they didn’t even realize were filed away in their brains. “Close your eyes. Try to remember something, a sound, a smell, a feeling.”

  “Is this some fucking joke? I’m days away from the needle and now you’re going to try to get me to remember?”

  “Listen, asshole,” Cole said through clenched teeth, “I’m here because I care about your sister and I’d rather cut off my left nut than see her hurt. The only thing that can make her happy right now is for us to find some proof of your innocence so we can get you out of this shithole, so for her sake, fucking humor me, okay?”

  Sean’s eyebrows rose and Cole saw a hint of grudging admiration in his eyes. “Just your left nut, eh? You telling me my sister’s not worth the whole package?” But he closed his eyes for several seconds, his face screwing into a frown as he focused his attention inward. “He was big,” Sean said. “Strong. I think I remember him moving me.” His eyes squeezed harder. “I think he had something on his arm.” His eyes flew open and he held out his own left arm, staring down at the tattoo on his biceps with a look of disgust. “Shit. I am crazy.”

  “No, you’re not. The man who attacked Megan—it was dark, but she thought she saw a tattoo on his arm.”

  Sean’s eyes narrowed. “You’re serious?”

  Cole nodded.

  “So he’s military, maybe Special Forces, like me.”

  “Maybe.” He wasn’t ready to say for sure, but he could no longer rule out the possibility out of hand. “Any ideas?”

  Sean shook his head. “Lots of guys get inked. Damn near everyone in my Ranger class got one of these,” he said, pointing to his tattoo.

  “Any idea who might want to hurt Evangeline? And why would they want to frame you?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t itting here,” Sean said, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “You need to call your attorney.”

  “Can you guarantee I’m going to get out?”

  “I can’t guarantee anything, except that if you don’t file an appeal you’ll be dead and I won’t give a shit either way what we find.”

  “Maybe it’s better that way.”

  “Better for who? Not Megan.”

  “Really? You think it’s better for her to get her hopes up all over again, only to be smacked down? You think it’s better for her to almost get herself killed trying to save her convict brother?”

  Cole let out a weary sigh as he heard his own sentiments echoed back at him. “It doesn’t matter if you push for an execution date and go through with it, Sean. That’s not going to stop her. She has no doubt you’re innocent. She’s not going to give up even if you do.”

  “She always was stubborn,” Sean said with a shake of his head.

  “So you’re going to give her a little more time?”

  “I’ll think about it. But I can promise you this: If you hurt my sister any worse than she has been, I’ll fucking come back from the grave to haunt you.”

  “We have to get him out of there. I can’t let him die in there like a beaten dog.” Megan scrubbed at her eyes as she watched Joe lead Sean back to his cell.

  Cole felt an answering tug in his chest and gently took her arm as they waited for Joe to return and lead them out the way they came.

  He was grateful when she fell asleep a few miles into their drive. He kept his gaze glued to the highway as his brain slowly sifted through the past forty-eight hours. In one bucket were facts, things they knew for certain about all the victims and all the cases. In another were the new pieces of information that raised more questions than they answered.
/>   Questions that cast a serious shadow over those so-called facts.

  He’d be doing Megan and Sean—hell, even himself—a serious wrong if he didn’t step back and reexamine everything he thought he knew about the case.

  Megan didn’t rouse until they’d reached the outskirts of the city. He didn’t realize she was awake until he started to pass her exit. “Wait,” she said around a yawn. “I need to go to my place.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “We don’t need to stay long, but I need to get more clean underwear. I packed only one pair.”

  “Fine, but I get to pick it out.”

  She let out a muffled chuckle. “P.”

  It felt good to hear her laugh after the night they’d had.

  A winter storm had blown in off the coast, soaking the ground and whipping branches around. In the time it took them to sprint from his Jeep to her door, they were drenched. They were in and out of her place in five minutes. Megan didn’t let him pick out her underwear, but the glimpse he got was enough to get him as hard as a spike thinking about getting her in—and out of—the bits of silk and lace.

  Even so, he was determined to play the gentleman, for what was left of tonight anyway. Their visit with Sean had put her through the ringer. The last thing she needed or wanted was him going after her like a Neanderthal.

  He parked the Jeep in his garage and ushered Megan through the door before setting his alarm code. “You can have the bed,” he said, and tossed his keys on the table. His dick twitched in protest, and he knew he wouldn’t get much sleep.

  It was bad enough before when he could only imagine how it felt to bury himself deep inside of her. Now that he knew… sleeping under the same roof as Megan and being unable to touch her was going to be fucking torture.

  Sean Flynn’s face flashed in his mind. Suck it up, asshole. Could be worse. You could be on death row trying to decide whether to go ahead and end it all or sign up for another stretch of spending twenty-three hours a day alone in an eighty-one-square-foot cell.