AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She studies me a long moment.
Can she sense my hatred? My urge for retaliation? But she didn’t win, I remind myself. Mercy didn’t bend to her. She was ready to protect me.
“We have reason to believe Peter Easton was involved in the incident at the Phoenix private airfield two night ago.”
“Uncle Peter? My godfather?” Caleb gasps. “Never! What makes you think that?”
“A source in our investigation.” Her lips twitch as if she’s struggling to stifle her smirk at my brother’s theatrics.
Her source is Mercy. She mentioned it to the agent last night in the restroom, back when we believed him to be the culprit. Back when Mercy was desperately searching for any way to turn this agent’s attention from me.
To help me.
“You’ll have to ask Uncle Peter,” I say coolly. “If what you say is true, he’s not going to admit it to us.”
“Well, you see, that’s the problem. We haven’t been able to find him. No one has seen him or his family in days. Seems odd that he would disappear at this time.” She cocks her head. “Would you happen to know where he might be?”
“No idea. We left to come to Vegas hours after the ‘incident’”—I use her word, which isn’t much better than my father calling it a “lesson”—“and we’ve been here since.” As the tails on us could confirm. I’m sure they noticed Farley and I slipping out of the hotel today and returning many hours later. It won’t take them much to find my trail to Fulcort, if they look.
Agent Lewis’s full red lips purse, as if she’s considering her next words carefully. She pulls out her notepad. “There were four of you who escaped the explosion. You two, and a Miss Michelle Banks.” She turns to Michelle. “Would that be you?”
Michelle swallows hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
Lewis’s gaze lingers on her another moment as if waiting for a cue before returning to her notepad. “And a… Mercy Wheeler.” Her eyes flitter about. “Did she come with you on this trip as well?”
Lewis doesn’t give a shit about the plane or Uncle Peter, who’s probably in a deep, sandy hole by now, along with his sons. She’s here because she was checking up on both her little mice.
“I don’t remember you at the airfield the night of the explosion,” Caleb says, and I appreciate the stall because I can’t seem to conjure a lie fast enough.
“I’m sure you don’t remember half the faces around you that night; you would have been in shock. But I was assigned to the case after. Is Mercy Wheeler here in Vegas with you?” She presses.
“She is. She hasn’t been feeling well since we got here, so she’s resting, and I’m not about to wake her so she can tell you that she has no clue where a man she’s never met is. Now, if you don’t mind, you’ve interrupted our evening and it sounds like you have some bad guys to hunt down.”
Agent Lewis’s lips purse as she glances at Michelle—perhaps to confirm the truth of that claim—but then she shifts her attention to her partner. “When do you plan on returning to Phoenix? In case we have more questions and need to contact you again.”
“We check out tomorrow.” Caleb grins. “Unless the roulette table’s good to me and I decide to stay.”
“Good luck with that, gentlemen.” With another brief glance around, they leave.
Caleb waits until the elevator doors close before he announces, “She might need a bit more work before she falls for my insatiable charm.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get another chance at her and soon.” Because it won’t be long before she comes sniffing around again.
Especially when we leave Vegas tomorrow, and Mercy isn’t with us.
6
Mercy
My heart pounds as I watch Bane set a paper plate and fresh bottle of water on the floor. It’s been hours since I last saw my captor. The blood-drenched apron is gone, and his cropped hair is damp from the shower I heard running on the other side of the wall earlier. He’s changed into a fresh pair of blue jeans and an avocado-green T-shirt, and his leather boots are polished. All in all, he looks like any other man, save for the jagged scar that runs along the side of his face, as if someone dragged a knife down the length of it.
It’s been hours and the woman hasn’t screamed again.
“Hope you like peanut butter. It’s all I got.” His voice is grumbly, harsh. He seems annoyed.
I swallow but keep quiet. I haven’t thought about food once since I woke up in the back of the van, and the white-bread sandwich he’s left out like a dish for a dog doesn’t stir any pangs of hunger now.
Bane’s stony gaze rolls over the coral blouse and white capris that I dug out of the suitcase. Whoever these clothes belonged to, she was a petite woman, older in years, based on the compression garments and modest style, who had a penchant for silk in bold shades of pink. The top stretches tight across my chest and the pants reach just below my knees, but it’s a far better option than the heavy terry cloth robe. That, I’ve spread over the mattress so I have something relatively clean to sit on.
