by Leslie North
“Hey, you’re back early,” Jace said cheerfully as Vann stomped into the compound’s office an hour later. Both he and Mercy were caked in mud and probably looked like a couple of Neanderthals. His leg was killing him, his arms and back ached from carrying her across the flatlands, and his head pounded from keeping a constant eye on everything around them.
He set Mercy down in one of the chairs near his desk, ignoring the lump of remorse in his chest. Given the shitty way things had ended between them today, this would most likely be the last time he’d hold her close or even see her again. The rational, responsible part of him said he should be glad. One less problem to deal with, not to mention the fact he’d been right all along. Mercy Conde had no business participating in a Brothers In Arms program, no matter who the hell her parents were or how important a client their business was. The other part of him though, couldn’t forget the way her shoulders had sagged when he’d told her he was done believing in her. Couldn’t erase the memory of the light extinguishing in her pretty blue eyes or the defeated frown on her full lips.
Shoving his damned emotions aside, he ignored Jace’s chipper greeting and headed for the bathroom instead, returning moments later with damp towels and the first aid kit. Yeah, he’d fucked things up royally between him and Mercy. No doubt about it. At least he could console himself with the fact they’d made it back here without another incident, safe and alive.
Speaking of safe….
“Someone tried to kill us down by the river,” he said to Jace, grabbing Mercy’s injured foot and cleaning it with one of the towels. She tried to pull away, refusing to look at him, but he held fast.
“No shit?” Jace stood and walked over to crouch beside Vann. Mercy remained, thankfully, silent. “I wondered why you came in here looking like rejects from some disaster movie set. What happened?”
Vann went over the dam breaking and the tracks he’d found while he gently cleaned the cut on the bottom of Mercy’s foot then bandaged it. He left out the part about them making love at the pool. “I’m sure the same person who tried to take out Mark was involved.”
Jace sat back on his heels and scowled. “How do you know?”
“Same footprints I saw outside of the Rigsdale mansion that night we went to save Mark. I got a better look at the maker’s mark this time. The shoes were expensive and custom-made, so I’m hoping I can contact local vendors and maybe get an idea of who might’ve bought them.”
“Damn.” Jace straightened and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Sounds like a needle and haystack situation to me, dude.”
He finished taping a gauze pad onto Mercy’s foot then hazarded a glance up at her. She’d not said a word since their argument out on the flatlands, and her silence was bugging him more than he wanted to admit. She watched him with wary eyes, her normally bright blue irises dulled and shadowed. Without thinking, he stroked the soft skin of her ankle. “You okay now?”
She blinked at him, once, twice, before answering, her tone flat. “I’m fine.”
“I just finished today’s class, Mercy,” Jace said, smiling. “Hector says hello.”
With a curt nod, she pushed to her feet, limping slightly. “I’m leaving. Are there forms I need to sign to withdraw from the program?”
“Uh.” Jace’s gazed darted from Mercy to Vann then back again. “We should talk about this.”
“No.” She hobbled across the room to Jace’s desk then sank into another chair, wincing. “I’m done talking. Pretty sure Vann and I have said everything there is to say to each other. I want to go home and I want to go today. Forms. Please?”
Jace gave Vann a what-the-fuck-dude look then walked to the file cabinet against the wall, yanking the top drawer open to root around inside. “Right. Sure. Let me just find them here.” He pulled out a manila folder then took a seat behind his desk. “Usually students who want to terminate the program are required to go through an exit interview. Mark does those, but he’s out of town until tomorrow.” Jace glanced over at Vann again. “Maybe you want to sleep on it tonight and come back in the morning. Quitting’s a big decision. Wouldn’t want to rush into anything.”
“I’m not rushing.” Mercy grabbed the paper from his hand and quickly scanned it before holding out her hand. “Pen?”
“Just give her something to write with so she can go home,” Vann said when Jace hesitated. “It’s for the best.”
Mercy scribbled her signature on the line then stood once more. “Thanks for bringing my rental car here while I was gone. May I have my car keys, please?”
“All part of the service.” Jace dug them out of the top drawer of his desk where he’d stowed them the day he’d picked up her car and handed them to her. “Are you sure you want to do this, Ms. Conde? Mark would be more than happy to discuss things with you when he gets back. We’d really hate for you to leave on bad terms.”
“I’m sure. For the record, it isn’t bad terms. I’m simply being realistic. While this isn’t for me, it doesn’t mean this program isn’t a good fit for others.” She took her keys, giving Jace a small smile, and headed for the door. At the exit, she turned back and gave Vann a pointed stare. “Goodbye. Sorry to be such a pain in your ass.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. If he opened his mouth right now, he’d beg her to stay and that would be a mistake, for both of them. He had a business to run and lives to save. She had an international restaurant firm to maintain halfway across the country. Things never would’ve worked between them anyway.
Jace pushed to his feet, his usually pleasant expression sour. “I can drive you to your hotel. You don’t look like you’re in shape to handle a car right now.”
“No. I’ll be fine. I look worse than I am.” She snorted and glanced at Vann one last time, sighing. “I need to go.”
The door had barely closed behind her before Jace rounded on Vann, pissed as hell. “What the fuck happened out there?”
“Things didn’t work out as I expected.” Vann wasn’t in the mood to discuss what had occurred between him and Mercy in the woods. It was still too raw, too painful.
“Really.” Jace crossed his muscled arms his expression darkening. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean, huh? You were supposed to help her, encourage her to stay. Mark and I were counting on you to make this work.”
“Well, I didn’t, okay?” Vann yelled. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
“No. I’ve been letting you keep your distance since Mark’s accident, but I’m done with that shit.” Jace stepped closer to him, scowling. “What the hell is wrong with you lately, man? You’ve always been a loner, I get that, but this business is a team effort. We started it together, built it together, the three of us. Since Mark’s accident, though, your self-absorption’s hit a whole new level, dude.”
“I’ve been busy.” He shoved past Jace and headed back to the bathroom. His skin itched from the filth caking nearly every inch of his body and he needed to get home, take a shower, get that cut on his calf tended to, and then figure out where the hell to go from there. Work had always been a distraction and a balm to what ailed him in the past and he hoped this time would be no exception. “I need to get home too.”
“You need to explain yourself.” Jace stepped in front of him, blocking his exit from the bathroom. “Get talking, sailor.”
“Fuck you, Jace.” Vann snarled, so not in the mood for this shit right now, best friend or not. “I’ve knocked you flat on your ass before and I’ll do it again, I swear.”
“We needed that fucking account, Vann. We needed those connections the Conde family would bring in.” A muscle ticked near Jace’s tense jaw. He didn’t budge an inch. “Have you looked at the quarterly financial reports, huh? Have you? No, you fucking haven’t. Because you’ve been too busy fucking around with your students and screwing up your life. We’re in the red, man. Our sales are down thirty percent since Mark’s accident. He’s been busting his ass to generate new business for the company
and I’ve been doing my damnedest to keep our PR out of the toilet. And what the hell have you been doing, huh?” He bared his teeth, his brown gaze hot with fury. “Fucking around in the woods and hunting ghosts no one else seems able to find, that’s what. I’m telling you, Vann. You either start acting like a fucking equal partner in this venture, pull your head out of your goddamned ass long enough to see we’re in trouble and help do something about it or you can get the hell out of here right now.”
“Fucking around?” Vann roared, not caring who heard them. Jace’s words stung, and not just because of the truth in them. They stung because he’d relied on these guys, had considered them brothers. The name of the company was more than just a title to him; it was a way of life. And yeah, maybe he had let the financial side of things get away from him lately. He’d been preoccupied with other things. Like trying to save all of their goddamned lives. “There won’t be a fucking Brothers In Arms to save if we’re all dead, asshole.” Rage forced him nose-to-nose with his best friend, the man he’d defended to the death on the battlefield. Now it was Vann’s professional life on the line and he sure as fuck wouldn’t go down without a fight. “You think you can run this place without me? I’d like to see you try.”
“Done.” Jace spun and headed for his desk. “Get out of here and don’t come back until you’ve made up your mind about what’s important around here.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Vann said. He stomped over to Jace’s desk and slammed his fist down on top of it so hard everything rattled. “You can’t kick me out of my own company.”
“Pretty sure I just did. Read section three, paragraph eight of our contract.” Jace gave him a cold smile. “Oh, wait. You’re probably too busy for that, eh dude? Here, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a copy around here somewhere.”
Head pounding and calf aching, Vann limped back a few steps. This was insane. He needed to get the fuck out of here before he made an even bigger shitstorm of this day than it already was. “I’m going home to take a shower.”
“Good,” Jace said, his tone gruff. “You smell like shit.”
“Give me my fucking keys.” Each word gritted out of Vann like dry bone. Jace had been his friend, his comrade in arms, his go-to guy when he needed a friendly ear, a trusted opinion. Right now though, he was one more mistake in Vann’s growing list of errors.
Jace dug them out and tossed them at Vann’s head. “Get out of my sight, sailor.”
The dismissal grated nearly as much as Mercy’s departure.
Vann stalked to the exit and out into the parking lot.
Maybe Jace was right. Maybe Brothers In Arms wasn’t a good fit for him anymore.
He climbed behind the wheel of his Range Rover, gunning the engine before peeling out of the gravel parking lot. And maybe, just maybe, he’d made the two biggest mistakes of his life.
13
Mercy woke the next morning bright and early, staring at the ceiling of her hotel room and generally feeling like shit. Early mornings were not usually her best time, but then again, she hadn’t really slept much at all the night before, so technically this was just a continuation of her previous craptastic day.
She rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, emerging twenty minutes later showered and teeth brushed, ready to dress and head to the airport for her flight home. God, what a cluster fuck this whole experience had been.
As she jammed items into her suitcase, she did her best to stay focused on her new plans for the future and not the heartbreak of the man who got away. Mercy snorted. Who the hell was she kidding? Vann had never been hers to begin with. Truth was, he’d been so far out of her league she’d needed a sports agent and a million-dollar signing bonus incentive just to get into his ballpark.
Nope. She needed to keep her head in the game now and prepare for her meeting with her parents on Friday. She’d called them last night and left a voicemail saying she was coming home early. She’d received a text from her mother a few hours later telling her not to be so hard on herself, not everyone was cut out to be a ninja.
Her sad laugh echoed around the quiet hotel room. Mercy had never aspired to be a ninja. She’d take competent and confident any day. All she’d hoped to prove by coming here was that she was just as good, just as capable as her brothers were handling whatever physical demands the new international position might require, but it wasn’t meant to be. Now, she’d meet with her parents back in New Orleans and help them pick out a suitable replacement. Most likely, she’d stay on in her administrative capacity, handling the office side of the business, though it would be hard knowing what could’ve been. Her mom would be happy, not having to worry about her baby anymore. Her father would hopefully not rub in her defeat too hard for too long. Interviewing candidates for the job she’d wanted herself would be painful enough.
Luggage packed, she pulled on her comfy clothes for the plane ride home—a cute pink jogging suit and sneakers, her hair secured back in a sensible, no-nonsense ponytail at the base of her neck and her face makeup free. She didn’t have anyone she was trying to impress.
Not anymore.
She unplugged her phone and charger and shoved them in her purse along with her boarding pass and car keys then headed down to the lobby to check out and grab a quick breakfast at the bar before hitting the road. She reminded herself that she needed to stop and fill up the tank of her rental before returning it at the airport.
The gas station sign glowed bright in the early morning gloom and Mercy pulled off the highway and up to the nearest pump, flicking open the gas cap lid before getting out and fiddling with the pump. While she waited for the tank to fill, she pulled out her phone to check for messages, but had no service. Damn. She shoved the useless device back in her purse and glanced over to see the only other car at the station—a black SUV at the air pump station near the far side of the otherwise empty lot.
The driver got out and her gaze narrowed. Tall, broad shouldered, dark hair peppered with gray. He was dressed all in black and stared at the air pump like a man unused to dealing with mundane tasks. Mercy recognized him from the night at Scoop’s when Vann had taken her out to dinner. Vann had said the guy was a politician, running for Congress, if she remembered correctly. Frank Sutton.
There’d been no love lost between the guy and Vann either, she recalled.
Intrigued, she watched as Sutton searched the area, as if looking for someone. The attendant inside made no move to come outside and assist the guy, so Mercy decided to be a good Samaritan and help. She had some time to kill before her flight anyway and she’d grown up with three brothers and had put her share of air into tires. She approached the man slowly. “Aren’t you running for Congress?”
“What?” Sutton glanced at her, his expression startled. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”
Huh, interesting. Most politicians she knew from back home would’ve willingly had their leg chomped off by a bayou gator before they’d let a potential new voter walk away. Sutton seemed a bit agitated too, now that she thought about it. Anxious for her to leave, the way his attention kept darting around. A mistress maybe? Or a lobbyist offering a bribe? Curious, she threw him a bone, hoping to get more information. “Don’t I know you? Aren’t you running for public office?”
He frowned, stepping closer. “Listen, lady. You need to get out of here. Now!”
Before Mercy could say more, Frank Sutton shoved her back toward her rental car. “Go!”
After what Vann had told her about the guy and then the suspicious flood, her instincts were on high alert. Fear bubbled hot in her gut and her pulse thudded loud in her ears as her suspicions grew.
Something was so not right with this situation.
She walked back to her car, mumbling about southern hospitality and California’s distinct lack of it. Back in her car, she started the engine and slowly headed for the exit, glancing back in her rearview mirror one last time to see another man now standing beside Sutton, his face hidden in shadows. Mercy stopped an
d squinted. The two men appeared to argue, their movements jerky. Sutton took a step back, holding his hands up in air in the universal sign of surrender. The other man waved something in front of him, something dark and sinister, and then….
There was a loud explosion and Mercy screamed at the exact instant she realized it was a gunshot, the exact moment Frank Sutton crumpled to the ground.
Eyes wide and heart clogging her throat, Mercy covered her mouth. Oh. Hell. No. She had not just witnessed a murder. That man had not just shot a candidate for Congress.
Body tense and hands shaking, she gripped the wheel of the rental car and eased toward the exit, not wanting to draw even more attention to herself beneath the harsh overhead lights of the gas station canopy.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Please don’t let him look this way; please don’t let him see me. Please don’t….
Too late.
The mystery shooter turned fast and looked directly at Mercy’s rental car.
Fuck!
Panicked, she pressed the accelerator to the floor and zoomed out onto the two-lane highway, narrowly avoiding a collision with an oncoming semi in the opposite lane. The truck honked, she screamed and the shooter ran toward the curb, staring at her car long after she lost sight of Frank Sutton’s body slumped on the ground beside the air pump station.
Oh, fuck.
Bile rose hot in her throat and she had to pull off to the side of the road so she could throw her door open and vomit. Retching, retching, until her raw throat couldn’t take anymore, all the time thinking she had to stop it, she had to get her door closed, she had to drive somewhere safe fast. And the police! She had to call the police. She grabbed her phone, dropped it, grabbed for it again. Still no service. Dammit!
Dead. That man was dead. Images of him sitting at that table at Scoop’s, alive and well, flooded her mind as tears flooded her eyes.
Why am I crying?