Grace Between Mercy

by S. Ferguson

  “Good morning.” His voice is gravelly from sleep, it sounds like sex, my body responds instantly. I guess pain medicine will slow everything but your sex drive down. Something tells me Ron could get anyone excited if he wanted to.

  “Good morning,” I squeak back, my voice weak from lack of use and having nothing to drink recently.

  Ron stands up and stretches his arms above his head, showing a sliver of his toned stomach when his shirt raises. I must make some kind of noise because he lowers his arms and looks at me.

  “You definitely shouldn’t be looking at me like that, especially right now,” he says. I notice a bulge forming in his pajama pants and raise an eyebrow at him.

  “It’s morning,” Ron replies with a shrug.

  “I’m really thirsty and kind of hungry,” I say, before swallowing my pride to ask the next question. “Can you help me get to the bathroom?”

  “Yeah sure, hang on.” Ron pushes his chair back and comes to the bed. He detaches the IV bag from where it’s hanging on the wall and holds his hand out to me.

  “Grab me with your good hand, I’m going to try to pull so you don’t put pressure on your shoulder, but sweetheart, it’s going to hurt,” Ron says gently.

  I grab his hand and let him pull me up. I cry out from the pain that shoots through my upper body, tears welling in my eyes.

  “Shhh, I’m so sorry, love, I’ve got you,” Ron whispers in my ear, wrapping an arm around me once I’m standing.

  I lean into him, wanting, needing the comfort. I feel like an idiot. All these years I’ve been rushing in to kill violent and dangerous men and in the end, I’m nothing but weak, taken out by a flesh wound.

  “Wasn’t a flesh wound. Doctor fished the bullet out,” Ron says, making me realize I must have spoken my thoughts out loud.

  “Oh my God. I was really shot?” I start to panic, it’s getting harder and harder to take a proper breath.

  “Shhh … it’s done now. You’re fine, you’re gonna be fine and this is the easy part now,” Ron says, opening a door I hadn’t noticed us approach.

  It must be the master bathroom, it is larger than most apartments I’ve crashed in. The floor is checkered in black and white tile, the walls striped with white and a dark beige color. It looks like something that should clash horribly but somehow works together flawlessly. It’s beautiful. There are two large sinks surrounded by marble countertop that we pass until we come to another door.

  “This is the awkward part,” Ron says, a slight tinge to his cheeks. “You can’t go alone. So I’m gonna have to stand right here to help you down and up and hold the bag.”

  “No, no way!” I complain,.

  “Look, I’m holding your bag up and you can barely stand on your own. I’m gonna help you down and help you up. I won’t look and I ain’t judging you. I’ve been here too,” Ron says honestly.

  I grumble but don’t try to stop him as he walks us into the smaller, more private area with the toilet. He keeps his eyes on mine as I raise the shirt I’m wearing up while gingerly lowering my lower half onto the toilet. I guess it’s a good thing whoever undressed me didn’t bother putting my panties back on. Ron steps away once I’m safely down, walking outside the doorway but leaving the door open for the line attached to my IV.

  I wish I could say I had trouble going but with all the fluids the doctor must have pushed into me, I can’t hold back. Thankfully I manage to go quickly. It’s tough to get the toilet paper with one hand but I manage to figure it out. As soon as I flush, Ron comes back through the doorway.

  “All right back to bed. If you want I can sit you up. I don’t have a TV in my room but I’ve ordered one, it should be here this afternoon,” he says as I grimace in pain while standing up.

  “This is your room isn’t it?” I ask, although I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.

  “Yes, you’re at my place. You couldn’t go to the hospital.” He gives me an obvious look.

  “Yeah, I get it.” And I do. Too many questions for gunshot victims. I know Ron has most of the police department in his pocket but there is only so much they can get away with ignoring.

  Once I’m settled in bed, propped into a sitting position this time, Ron leaves saying something about “getting Michelle.”

  I don’t know who Michelle is but even in this state, I can’t help the little stab of jealousy that flows through me. Who is she? Why is she here? I didn’t even know Ron had an actual home before tonight. I think everyone always assumed he lived above Keegan’s in one of the many rooms. Or maybe in the apartment building Bree lives in. He owns that too apparently.

  About fifteen minutes later, a sweet, grandmotherly type woman comes in carrying a bowl of soup and a can of lemon soda. I immediately feel like an asshole.

  “Oh, you poor thing! I’m so glad you’re awake! I told Mr. Wolfe I didn’t think you should be sleeping that long but that man never listens to a damn thing.” She chuckles before perching in the seat Ron had vacated. I like her already.

  She feeds me spoonful after spoonful of the soup. It’s warm and obviously homemade. I’ve never felt so well taken care of. When I finish the soup she gives me the opened can of lemon soda and I take it with my good hand.

  “You know Mr. Wolfe has never brought a woman here before. I thought he never would,” she says quietly. “Figures when he does she’s a gunshot victim.” The last part is mumbled so low I barely hear her. I can tell she’s watching me closely, waiting for me to give away something.

  “Oh, we’re not …” I shake my head.

  “Of course you’re not,” she says winking at me.

  “What …” I start to ask her what she means but we’re interrupted by Ron walking into the room.

  12

  Ron

  While Michelle feeds Kella, I take a few minutes to get dressed and make sure Jake and Greg are on their way with the television. I always preferred to keep my room quiet and peaceful but I can’t expect Kella to be laid up for weeks with nothing. She can’t even read a book with only one arm. Maybe I should get her one of those e-reader things. I make a mental note to talk to the guys about that when they arrive.

  Jake and Greg show up an hour later than promised. Jake doesn’t stop complaining the entire time he helps Greg carry the TV into the bedroom. I follow behind them carrying a small table that can serve as a stand for the TV. I refused to mount it to my pristine wall, despite Jake’s enthusiasm for wanting to drill into it. If we ever don’t have access to a gun, I’m pretty sure he can be just as terrifying with an electric drill.

  “You’re lucky he fucking likes you,” Jake growls, shooting me an evil look once the TV is set up. He walks out of the room before Kella can respond, which is probably a good thing.

  She didn’t make it easy on him, constantly telling him the TV wasn’t centered, making him move it left to right several times before he finally gave her the finger.

  “Here’s the remote, watch whatever you want, if you want to order anything it’s already linked to my account,” I say awkwardly, not sure what to do now.

  “Are you leaving?” Kella asks, looking slightly sad.

  “I don’t have to.” I speak before thinking about it. I can afford the time off work but spending time with Kella isn’t a smart idea. No, spending time with Kella is a dangerous idea.

  “Please,” Kella says, her eyes wide. Fuck she kills me.

  “Okay.” I sit down and more awkward silence quickly follows.

  “Thank you, for, um, taking care of me,” she says quietly.

  “You took a bullet for us. For me,” I say quietly, wondering why she seems surprised?

  “I didn’t do anything but stand in the wrong place,” she grumbles, clearly more than her shoulder was wounded.

  “You didn’t run, Kella. Shit hit the fan and you stayed by my side. That’s the only thing I can ask of anyone,” I state the facts.

  “I guess you’re right. Does Declan hate me now?” she asks, her eyes look ne
rvous when she says his name.

  I push down the sudden protectiveness that hits me and answer her. “Nah, Declan’s hard to piss off.” Then I remember the way he choked Abramo. “Well, most of the time.”

  She gives a musical laugh and I smile back.

  “You should laugh more often,” I whisper, my hand coming up to brush down her cheek before I can stop myself.

  “And you should smile more,” she says, tilting her head ever so slightly into my touch.

  “So, tell me …” she starts to speak, but we’re interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing.

  I look at the screen and see Lexi’s name. Sighing deeply, I stand up. “I have to take this, I’ll be right back.”

  Shutting the door behind me, I answer gruffly, “You got news?”

  “Yes, I arranged an ‘accidental’ meeting with her. We hit it off, lunch is scheduled for tomorrow.” Lexi sounds so proud of herself.

  “Perfect. Let me know what you find out then.” I hang up even though I can still hear Lexi talking. I switch my phone to silent knowing she’ll probably call back.

  I make my way back to Kella’s side and sit down.

  “Who was that?” Kella asks curiously.

  “Work shit. What were you going to say?” I lie and for once I’m not happy about it. Kella doesn’t need to know everything I have going on right now, but a part of me wishes I could share more with her.

  “This feels weird. I’m used to being on my own,” she says, looking ashamed.

  “Nothin’ wrong with being on your own. Nothin’ wrong with getting help when you need it either.” I can’t help but remember all the times I’ve been in desperate need of help, but there wasn’t always someone there. All the times Bree needed help and there was no one there.

  “So, after I heal, what happens then?” Kella asks the million-dollar question.

  “Why don’t we take it one day at a time?” I say, avoiding it for the moment. I can’t give her an answer I don’t know. The only thing I know is that for some reason, the idea of Kella not being around anymore doesn’t make me happy. And that’s when I know I need to get away from her. If she stays around, I’m only going to get more attached to her, and that is a dangerous place to be.

  13

  Kella

  Ron’s change began in subtle ways. As I healed, Ron withdrew more and more. He wasn’t touching me unless necessary, even then he pawned me off on Michelle most of the time. He sent Greg and Dave when I needed something brought to me. There was a crispness in the air. Like the weather before a winter storm hits. I can’t help but miss him. I don’t know why, but there is something about him that pulls me like a magnet. When Ron is in the room, I’m drawn to him, like the sun. No one has ever captured my attention that way before.

  Yet another week of being ignored, of near-constant boredom went by and I made the decision to go against every instinct I had. I decide to confront him. I don’t know Ron well, but I have a feeling he never gives anything you won’t fight him for. My mind flashes to last night, something happened, something that needs to be addressed.

  I woke up suddenly, startled. I sensed Ron before I saw him but when I looked at the chair beside the bed, it was empty. I propped myself up on the elbow of my good arm, and craned my neck, searching the darkened room for him. He was leaning against the closed bedroom door, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, my voice soft, something in me not wanting to break the silence.

  “Everything. Every fuckin’ thing has been wrong since I walked into that room and found you,” Ron growled, his voice deeper than normal.

  “What do you mean?” I came to a full sitting position, the sheet covering me falling to my lap. I was wearing nothing but my usual sleep clothes, a thin tank top and panties, the cold air was a shock to my suddenly over-heated skin.

  “What is it about you, Kella?” Ron uncrossed his arms and stalked toward me.

  I wasn’t afraid of him hurting me, but something about the way he slowly approached me, the power he radiated, it made me feel nervous.

  “I didn’t do anything. I’ve been in here. You took my phone.” I started to panic. Did something happen? Was he blaming me for something I knew nothing about?

  He reached the side of the bed and ran a finger up my leg, starting at my knee and ending at my hip.

  I gasped at the contact, but before I could speak again, he grabbed the back of my head, slamming his mouth against mine. I moaned in response, opening my mouth to him immediately.

  He started to pull back and I raised my one working hand, grabbing his bicep, clinging to him. It was more than just wanting him to stay, I needed something to ground me, to remind me I was still on earth. His kisses are as powerful as heroin.

  He jerked back and all but flung himself away from me. “This can’t happen again,” he hissed, storming out of the room, the door banging shut behind him.

  As I sat there in a haze of confusion and arousal, I decided I had enough of this. It’s time to confront the infamous Ron Wolfe.

  Ron clears his throat, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  “Are we going to talk about this?” I ask, motioning between us. He’s sitting in his leather recliner, reading the paper. At least he wants me to think he’s reading it, but he hasn’t turned the page in a good ten minutes. No one could possibly read that slow.

  “What is there to talk about?” he replies gruffly, shooting me a glare. If I were a lesser woman, that alone would have sent me running.

  I don’t give him a chance to realize what I’m planning to do when I move. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I jump to my feet and throw myself on his lap. I can’t straddle him like I want, my sling won’t allow for proper balance. His eyes widen with shock but he makes no move to push me off.

  “You practically fucked me against the wall. We’ve been playing this game. you took care of me.” He tries to speak but I lay my finger over his lips. “You look at me the same way I look at you, when you bother to look at me at all. And there was last night …” I let my voice trail off but I give him no question with my stare. I never could back down, even when the odds were against me.

  Sighing in frustration, Ron all but throws his newspaper that is crumpled between us on his end table. Giving me his full attention, he raises his gaze to meet my imploring one. Our faces are so close. I want him to kiss me again, to at least react. For him to just give me something.

  “I think we could have something, or at least, maybe …” I feel my cheeks heat and my voice sounds so fucking pathetic. “I think it might be worth trying.” I feel like a child right now, begging for a toy she knows she can’t have.

  “You want something I can’t give you.” Ron runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Something I can’t give anyone. In my life, things like this,” he nods between us, “are just liabilities. Someone just ends up hurt. Or dead.” His eyes are looking anywhere but at mine now.

  “Ron …” I lean forward to kiss him but he grabs my good shoulder, keeps our faces close, but oh so far. Despite his resistance his touch his gentle. He does care, I can feel it in my bones.

  He rests his forehead against mine for just a moment, closing his eyes. “I wish I could, sweetheart. I really wish I could.”

  We stay like that for a moment, Ron in contemplative silence, my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces on his living room floor. Ron’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket, bringing the moment to an underwhelming halt. Carefully, he lifts me off his lap, and sets me on my feet. Standing, he digs his phone out of his pocket and answers it, walking toward his home office.

  Humiliated, broken-hearted and fighting off tears, I frantically wipe at my face with my good hand. I’m such a fucking idiot. Did I really think he really cared about me? I took a bullet and it was his fault and he’s making sure I heal. That’s all it is. That’s all it ever will be. Figures my dumbass would read more into it.

  I walk back toward my
room in defeat, but I hear Ron’s voice carrying from inside his office and can’t help but to stop and listen.

  “That’s fuckin’ amazing,” he says, sounding excited about something.

  I lean closer to the door, trying to catch more of his conversation. He mumbles something else I don’t quite catch. I’m practically leaning on the door now, my ear pressed to it.

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lexi,” he says, and my heart clenches.

  And now I know. He really is a cold-hearted bastard, he’s even gone back to her, or at least back to whatever they had going on.

  I back away from the door, feeling like someone slapped me in the face and make my way back to my room.

  I know what I need to do. I just need to finish healing and then I’m going to disappear again. I made it in this place, it can’t be that hard to move to another city and start over. I’m going to forget all about Ron Wolfe and that Lexi cunt.

  14

  Ron

  At dinner, I pretend to eat as I watch Kella like a hawk. She isn’t speaking, barely eating any of the food Michelle made for us. She doesn’t realize I knew she was listening. It’s been a long time since anyone snuck up on Ron Wolfe. I’m a bastard and I intentionally said Lexi’s name. Kella needed to hear it, she needed a push in the right direction. She needs to know there can be no us. This is something that can never happen.

  I almost lose my mind when I see what looks like tears forming in her eyes. “Kella …” My voice trails off. What can I say? Everything in me is screaming to comfort her, to tell her what she wants to hear, but I can’t do that.

  “Just don’t, okay?” Kella’s voice cracks. She doesn’t say anything else, standing so abruptly her chair shoots backward. Her shoulders are shaking when she turns her back to me, I open my mouth but quickly shut it. There is nothing left to say. She storms off and I clench my fists, fighting everything in me that says chase her.