Finding Mercy: The Next Generation

by Edwards, Riley

  “I know, Bud.”

  “What?”

  I could barely catch my breath; the room was starting to spin. Surely, I’d heard him wrong. He couldn’t have known. We played the part of husband and wife in public perfectly. Our friendship wasn’t an act, it was easy to fool everyone around us.

  “Kayla talked to me and your mom before she filed.”

  “She did what?” They’d known all along? Pretended like they didn’t. What the fuck? “And you never told me?”

  “She wanted to make sure we understood why the two of you were separating. She didn’t want us to be mad at her. Honestly, it didn’t come as a surprise.”

  Glad my parents weren’t shocked by my impending divorce. What else had they been holding back about?

  “Well, it surprised the fuck out of me.”

  “No, it didn’t. If you look back over your marriage you knew. It’s just easier to lie to yourself and pretend the obvious wasn’t in front of your face.”

  “What’s next? You’re gonna tell me you never liked Kayla?”

  “We loved her like a daughter. But we knew she was not the woman you’d spend the rest of your life with.”

  “What?”

  “Kayla was your first love. It was young and it was a learning kind of love. She taught you how to be a man. And you showed her how a man should treat her. You two were fast friends, you shared a deep bond, one that was shrouded in friendship, not soul-binding, intoxicating forever love. You were her caretaker, the person she turned to for advice, you were her biggest cheerleader. She gave back to you as much as you gave her. But anyone with eyes in their heads could see that neither of you looked at the other with all consuming adoration. There was no spark. Friendship, yes. Lust and love, no.” My dad stopped and sucked in a breath.

  “We all miss her. She was sweet and kind. A genuine good person. She caught the worst deal life could throw at her. But you gave her everything you could until her last breath on this earth. She knew how much she meant to you. She understood you were willing to stay in a relationship with her for the rest of your life if that’s what she wanted. You were content in your arrangement. But, son, you didn’t have a marriage.”

  What the hell was I supposed to say to that? He was mostly right. I was content in our arrangement. I was roommates with one of the best people I knew. She was funny and sweet. We had a good time together even if there was no intimacy. Once sex was off the table, it was like a weight had lifted, and, once again, we could go back to being friends like we’d been before we walked down the aisle. At one time, I’d thought there was a spark in our marriage. Wasn’t there? Hadn’t I felt lust-drunk in her presence? Not the way I’d been when I was with Mercy. Hadn’t I felt an all-consuming need for Kayla? I hung my head in shame, I’d never felt passion and want as deeply as I’d felt with Mercy.

  “I can’t see her anymore when I close my eyes,” I admitted.

  “You’re not supposed to. You have to let her go. It’s time. You hold your good memories close. You remember the good friend she was to you and let the rest go. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

  “I ran out on Mercy,” I told him.

  “I gathered that. Why?”

  “I walked in on her giving herself a shot.”

  “A shot? What kind of shot?”

  “A B12 injection. She has pernicious anemia.”

  “You left her because she’s anemic?” my dad asked in disbelief.

  I could feel the panic bubbling up, bile crawling up my throat. I didn’t know what was worse, seeing Mercy and the needle or her face when I left.

  “I saw the syringe and lost it. I felt like all the air was being squeezed from my lungs. My worst nightmare had come to life right in front of my eyes. I couldn’t hear what she was saying over the roaring in my ears. I had to leave, get away from all the memories and images. All I could see was Mercy dying in my arms. Losing my best friend nearly killed me. If I lost Mercy I wouldn’t survive. The fucking needle was sitting on the counter, something so stupid and innocent turned into a venomous snake waiting to strike. I couldn’t think, Dad. All I could do was run. I walked out on her as she was begging me to stay and talk.”

  Damn, I was a heartless bastard. So fucking dumb. I’d left the woman I loved over a needle. Weak.

  “You can still make this right. You have to talk to her.”

  “It’s too late. She told me if I left, we were over.”

  “Nothing is ever too late. Did you know I left your mom?”

  “What? No. When?”

  My dad’s face clouded over as he remembered a time I was sure was painful. How did I not know this either?

  “You know how I know what you’re going through? Because I’ve been there. I didn’t only lose a friend, I lost the mother of my child and my daughter. I was broken. I couldn’t get over what I’d done. Then I met your mom and I thought I had, until she mentioned having more kids. I spiraled and left her. Next thing I knew I was on a plane headed to my hometown. I had so much guilt and self-hatred I didn’t know what to do with it. I went straight to Liz’s sister’s house and prayed she’d tell me what an asshole I was and I didn’t deserve to be forgiven. But not your Aunt Reagan. She told me to get over myself, move on, that it was what Liz would’ve wanted. I ran home to your mom and begged her forgiveness. The difference between a woman and a man is a woman will fall in love with the idea of you, the future, the promise they see in you. They will wait, give you more chances than you deserve. Your mom gave me the chance I needed to prove I was the man she thought I was. But you need to pull your head out of your ass and go to her, now. Time is not your friend. The longer this lingers the harder it will be to fix it. And the promise I see in Mercy, the beauty she gives you, the future you could have are worth fighting for—do not delay. You don’t want to wake up a year from now, alone in your bed, with nothing but regret to keep you warm. Trust me. You will have lost a good woman. One who supported you while you were struggling. Even if that support was remaining quiet so you could figure your shit out. She was still by your side.”

  My dad was right. I would regret losing Mercy. Hell, I regretted it now. I missed her so fucking much I couldn’t see straight. There was a hole in my heart that only she could fill. It was hers. Every part of me was.

  “I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “You start by opening your damn curtains. Letting some sunshine into this pit of gloom. You open your eyes and see the people around you who have your back. You beg, plead, and fall to your knees. Crawl if you have to. You exhaust every recourse, then you find more. What you do not do is give up. I didn’t raise a quitter, don’t start now. You need to be the man I know you are. Honest. Kind. Goodhearted. Be the man she needs you to be.”

  I could beg. I would beg. I’d crawl back to her if it meant this ache in my heart would subside.

  28

  I’d like to say I was feeling better after talking to Tuesday, but that would be a lie. It would also be a lie if I said that through my hectic work week, I hadn’t had time to think about Jason. As busy as the last few days have been, I still found the time. I still missed him and loved him just as much as I did when I woke up the morning he’d left me ten days ago. Ten horrible fucking days.

  He hadn’t been into the office the last three days. I’d heard the task force was out in the field. The rival MCs had come to an agreement and they were moving product down I-95. The shipment was supposed to be intercepted sometime today. They’d used the first two days for surveillance. It was a big shipment, and the MC had sent extra security to ensure the eighteen-wheeler packed full of drugs made it to the drop.

  My cell phone vibrated with an incoming text and I thought about ignoring it. I knew Tuesday meant well, but I didn’t need her checking on me every five minutes. The phone vibrated again and I knew she wouldn’t stop.

  DELANEY WALKER: I think I’m in trouble.

  DELANEY WALKER: No thinking. I’m fucked. Derek Lowe is following me
.

  Fuck.

  I pressed the call button and waited. Three rings then to voicemail. I sent her a text hoping she’d answer.

  ME: Where are you?

  I jumped up, grabbed my keys, and flew down the stairs. I jumped the last two, jogged to the heavy glass doors, and pushed. Cool air blasted me in the face as I took off in a sprint to get to my car.

  ME: Delaney! Where are you? I’m on my way.

  It was just after eight a.m. She had to be in class. I pulled out of the lot, trying to call Delaney while driving sixty in a twenty-five, with cars lining both sides of the two-lane side street. Goddamn it. Why hadn’t I looked at my phone sooner?

  Again, no answer.

  I dialed Bruce, he could get someone to run a trace on Delaney’s cell.

  “Detective—”

  “Bruce, it’s Mercy. Listen, I need you to track Delaney Liberty Walker’s cell phone. She texted me that she was in trouble. Derek Lowe is following her. How is that possible?”

  “Damn it. Where are you?”

  “Headed to Parkside. Delaney should be in class.”

  “I’ll get someone on the trace and meet you there. Is Jason with you?”

  My heart constricted but I didn’t have time to think about my broken heart, Delaney was in trouble.

  “No, he’s in the field. Even if I tried, they’re radio silent.”

  “He’s gonna flip his shit. See you in fifteen.” He wasn’t wrong; Jason was going to have a heart attack. I was breaking every traffic law known to man getting to the high school. I hoped fifteen minutes wasn’t fifteen minutes too late.

  I pressed Delaney’s number again, and this time it went straight to voicemail. That wasn’t a good sign. Either her phone was dead or turned off. If that was the case, we were fucked. There was no way to trace her cell if it wasn’t pinging towers.

  Dread bloomed. The last time I’d felt this feeling in my gut, Jason had left me. I pulled into the parking lot and scanned the area. Delaney’s car was not in the teachers’ lot. That could mean any number of things. I pulled in front of the building, parked in front of the red curb, busses only section, and jumped out, not bothering to turn my car off.

  I buzzed the door, banged on the glass, and waved my credentials in front of the camera.

  “May I help you?”

  “Agent James, DEA. I need to speak with Delaney Walker immediately.”

  The door clicked, allowing me to enter. A woman met me in the lobby before I could turn toward Delaney’s classroom.

  “Agent James. Ms. Walker isn’t here today. Is there an issue? Something I can help you with?”

  “What do you mean not here? When did she leave?”

  “She had a scheduled day off. I believe she was going to the dentist or doctor. May I help you?”

  “No. Thanks.”

  Think, Mercy. Shit. Jasper.

  I scrolled through my contacts pulling up a number I never thought I’d need, but happy Jason insisted I program it in—just in case.

  “Hello?”

  “Jasper? It’s Mercy.”

  “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

  What the hell was it with Walker men, did they have a special Spidey sense?

  “I’m at Parkside looking for Delaney. I got a text from her saying she was in trouble, Derek Lowe was following her. I have local PD trying to triangulate but her phone is now off. She’s not at school. Something about an appointment. Do you know where she was going this morning? I need a place to start searching.”

  “Derek Lowe?” The deadly tone sent shivers down my spine.

  “Jasper! Where was her appointment?”

  “Didn’t know she had one. Let me call Em.”

  He hung up, and I was stuck with my thumb up my ass with no starting point. Bruce should be pulling in any minute. We could split up and search for her.

  My cell phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  DELANEY WALKER: Promises. Promises. You can’t be on your way because you don’t know where she is.

  Oh, God. Lowe has her. I needed to engage him. The longer the phone was back on the better.

  ME: Derek. You don’t want to do this. Delaney has nothing to do with anything. I’m the one you want.

  DELANEY WALKER: You want her? Come get her. You have five minutes.

  ME: Where?

  DELANEY WALKER: Corner of Fifth and Channel. Behind the old waffle place. Five minutes and we roll.

  I sped out of the lot and called Jasper.

  “No luck.”

  “Lowe contacted me. The old waffle house on Fifth—”

  “I know it.”

  “He said if I’m not there in five he rolls and takes her with him. I’m four minutes out.”

  “You got back up? I’m at least twenty out.”

  “Negative. I don’t have time to wait.”

  “Stand down, Mercy. Don’t go in alone. We’ll track him.”

  “Not a chance. She doesn’t spend one more minute alone with him than she has to.”

  “Mercy—”

  “Hanging up now, Jasper. See ya when you get there.”

  I was coming up on the corner. I needed a plan. There was no way I was letting Delaney go anywhere with Derek Lowe.

  My phone rang and I sent it to voicemail. I didn’t have time to argue with Jasper. I pulled into the alleyway and Derek was standing next to Delaney’s car, gun pointed to her temple. I hit the redial button, heard Jasper yelling, and I told him the only thing I could that would possibly save us.

  “Her car.”

  I clicked off the call, silenced my phone, pulled my gun from my holster, and got out.

  “You don’t want to do this, Lowe. Let her go.” I sounded like a parrot.

  “Right. Drop your weapon and get in.”

  “No. Let her go, and I’ll go with you.”

  “Look at you, thinking you’re in control. You’ve got until three and we end this right here.”

  “You shoot her, I kill you.”

  “I’ve got nothing to lose. I don’t give the first fuck. You two bitches cost me everything. Three. Two—”

  “Okay.” I slowly lowered my weapon. I dropped the magazine out and tossed the gun under my car.

  “Get in the back seat.” All three of us started to approach the car. “What do you think you’re gonna do with that?” Lowe motioned to the polymer magazine in my hand.

  “I’m not leaving a loaded gun on the ground.” I shoved the seventeen-round mag in my back pocket and climbed in.

  Delaney was roughly shoved through the driver’s side door and told to crawl into the passenger seat. I wanted to tell her to jump out and run, but Lowe was in the car, reversing before I could.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To have one last party.”

  My blood ran cold. I didn’t think he meant the fun kind of party with balloons and clowns.

  “By the way, give Delaney your phone.”

  He pointed his pistol at her, and when I handed it to her, he told her to toss it out the window.

  Well, there went that plan. Our only hope now was Jasper. I prayed he understood my last two words to him or they truly may have been my last.

  29

  “TF One, you read me?”

  “Loud and clear,” I told command.

  Comm check complete, we were almost ready to intercept. Twenty-five DEA agents, twenty bikers, and a shipment of narcotics worth high six-figures. What could go wrong?

  It had started with fifteen bikers following the semi-truck, those numbers I could stomach. Twenty-five to fifteen and the odds were in our favor. But this morning five more had shown up as the eighteen-wheeler pulled out of the truck stop. I didn’t like our current state of play. We were only five up on a bunch of one-percenters, a biker gang that lived and died by a code of brotherhood. They wouldn’t go down easy. There would be no surrender with them.

  We all knew we had a battle on our hands, and, just like all the operations before,
our only hope was we’d have the tactical advantage and our training would prove superior. Bullets don’t discriminate. All it takes is one lucky shot and you were dead.

  Let’s hope luck would be on our side today.

  Team one was to cut the bikers off from the rig. Team two would take the shipment.

  “We’re ready to move. Do not trust any of these fuckers. They’d sooner gut you than wind up in lockup,” my team leader barked in my ear.

  “Copy that. TF One in place and ready.”

  “Move out.”

  Monroe and Evan pulled out with four agents in each of their heavily armored suburbans. They’d go ahead and get in front of the rig. Sampson pulled out with his four-man team, and I followed with three other men in my truck. We’d catch up to the Harleys and pull in front of them, cutting off their access to the semi. Lawrence and Tito would come in behind the bikers and box them in.

  The two lead vehicles were in place and Sampson and I took our places in front of the bikes, slowing down and swerving so they couldn’t pass us on the two-lane access road. It was important we took out the caravan before they hit I-95. There would be too many innocent civilians in danger if a shootout took place there.

  “TF One. Slow your speed.”

  “Copy,” Sampson answered.

  I let off the gas and followed his lead. We were down to ten miles an hour.

  “Anyone think it’s odd no one’s tried to pass us?” I asked.

  “Just thinking the same thing,” Tito answered.

  “We’re ready to roll the rig to a stop on your go, TF One,” Monroe came over the radio.

  “We’re down to five miles per hour. Start your deceleration,” I answered.

  Something was definitely wrong. The bikers should be showing some signs of distress but they were simply rolling to a stop. No one tried to break away, no guns were drawn.