Lori Armstrong - Merciless

I put my hands on the ground in front of me, trying to maneuver myself out of the sinkhole before it swallowed me. But my hands kept slipping. Lifting them to the light, I saw they were covered in blood. Rivers of blood from the three bodies poured downhill toward me like a red mudslide. I used my last breath to scream when the bloody sand engulfed me.

My eyes flew open, and I realized I’d screamed out loud. The front of my shirt was soaked, and I reeked of whiskey. I still clutched the empty crystal glass.

Deep shame burned, and I didn’t want to see Lex’s expression or hear Mason have to explain what’d happened. Why I was such a freak.

But as I reached to set the glass on the coffee table, Mason’s strong hand was right there, taking it from me. I looked at him, and the worry etched on his brow seemed to shame me further.

Without breaking eye contact with me, he said, “Lex, turn that off and give Mercy and me a few minutes, okay?”

The sounds of gunfights and explosions ceased abruptly.

I thought I heard Lex mutter about us leaving our clothes on, and I might’ve smiled if I hadn’t been vibrating head to toe from the shocking effects of the nightmare.

Then Dawson hauled me onto his lap. He draped an afghan over us and tucked my face into his neck, tightening his arms so I couldn’t move.

He knew what I needed. He’d been through this with me before. When the shakes wouldn’t stop, he whispered against my hair. “It’s just us here. Let it go. It wasn’t real.” He kissed my crown. “Please, sweetheart, let it go.”

I did, but not with big gasping sobs. Not because I was ashamed to cry in front of him. I’d cried in front of him plenty. I sat and let his warmth, his scent, his strength bolster me.

After he recognized I’d calmed and returned to myself, he loosened his hold and eased back to peer into my face.

“Bad?”

I nodded.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head.

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It might help.”

We’d had this exact same dialogue a dozen times since we’d been together. Mason never pushed me. He’d hold me and distract me with sex to bring me back to a happy place.

“I don’t suppose you can drag me off to bed and make me forget about it?”

Mason smiled. “We’ve already been busted once today. Let’s not push it right now, okay?”

“Okay.” I rubbed my cheek along his jawline. “I love you.”

“I know you do.”

Him tossing my usual response back at me made me smile. “I need to change out of the whiskey-soaked clothes. Then I might crawl in bed and put this day behind me.”

“Sounds good. I’ll hang with Lex and be there in a bit.”

I smooched his mouth. “Don’t forget to lock the bedroom door tonight.”

• • •

The next morning I let Dawson sleep in and took over kitchen duties.

Not even the scent of cooking bacon roused Lex, so I knocked on his door. “Lex? Time to get up and start the day.”

No answer.

I knocked louder. “Come on, kiddo. Rise and shine.”

The door opened a crack. He rubbed his eyes. “Man, you’re even more annoying than my dad in the morning.”

“There’s a compliment.”

He mumbled something and shut the door in my face.

But he was dressed and downstairs in five minutes. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Waffles and bacon. Help yourself.”

“Cool.” Lex loaded his plate.

I poured him a glass of milk.

“Thanks, Mercy.”

“You’re welcome.”

He ate. I drank coffee. I finally noticed his plate was empty, yet he still dragged his fork through the puddle of syrup.

“If you’re still hungry, I can make another waffle.”

“I’m full.” Lex looked up at me and wore the same contrite expression I’d seen on his father’s face.

“Something wrong?”

He blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For playing World of Warcraft in front of you. It’s just a game to me, and I didn’t know it’d bring back bad memories of being in war and stuff. I won’t play it anymore.”

Such a sweet boy. Like his dad in so many ways. I wanted to hug him, but that’d probably freak him out. So I reached over and messed up his hair. “Thanks. The bad dreams usually stem from something that happened at work. But not always. It’s kind of a crapshoot. I never know when they’ll pop up and knock me flat.”

“There was a guy in my apartment building who’d been in Vietnam. Some days he’d be great.”

“It’s those not-so-great days that are scary.”

Lex nodded. “One time he was sleeping in the hallway, and I accidentally woke him up. He tackled me. I had to hit him in the face to get him to leave me alone. Then he got really embarrassed, and I didn’t see him for a while.”

“I know the feeling.”

Mason ambled in. “Mornin’.” He helped himself to coffee and looked around. “Where’s Sophie?”

“She’s not here.”

“ You made waffles?”

“I am not entirely helpless in the kitchen, Sheriff. Besides, you’d better not insult my cooking since I’ll be doing a lot more of it.” I sipped my coffee. “Sophie quit.”

“She did? When did this happen?”

“Hope told me last night. I guess it’s effective immediately. She wants to spend more time with Penny before she…”

Dawson frowned. “Is Penny worse?”

“No.” I explained what I’d been told the night before.

“That’s good news anyway. And I have some more good news.” He focused on Lex. “I talked to Phil Beecham, the bus driver for this area. He said if you’re down by the main highway by twenty-five before the hour, he’ll pick you up and take you to school. Won’t that be great? Getting to know the kids from around here?”

“I guess.” Lex left the table without picking up his plate.

“Huh-uh. Get back here. You know the drill.”

“Sorry, Dad.” He looked at me. Firmed his chin. “Is Sophie quitting because of me?”

“No. Why would you-” Had the kid taken the blame for everything at his mom’s house? “To be honest, Sophie is getting on in years, and it’s gotten harder for her to do all the things she used to do. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. In fact, she was pretty excited when she heard you were coming. More cookie recipes for her to test out.”

“I never knew anyone who had a housekeeper and a cook,” Lex said.

“Sophie’s more than just a housekeeper to me. She’s sort of filled in since my mom died when I was a kid.”

“Oh.” Lex hustled off after a warning from his father about being late for school.

Dawson wrapped himself around me while I rinsed the dishes. “I know you’ll miss her. I’ll miss her, too. But this is probably the best for everyone.”

I disagreed.

And in my mind, this was a temporary situation, anyway. Sophie would be back.

We probably should’ve been at the tribal police department getting the tribal officers’ input on the case. But instead, I found myself at home base-the Rapid City FBI office-in the conference room, alone with Agent Turnbull.

And it seemed a bit… official. Instead of the brainstorming session Shay had hinted at.

“We’re in agreement that the Shooting Star and Dupris cases are connected?”

I nodded. “Any reports back from the crime lab?”

“Yep. Verline also had high levels of digitalis in her system.” He rapped his pen on the blank sheet of paper in front of him. “So now, how about if we start with a list of possible suspects.” Then he looked at me pointedly.

“What? You want me to go first?”

“Yep.”

Damn. “Junior Rondeaux.”