Lori Armstrong - Mercy Kill

“Get to the point,” A-Rod grumbled. “I don’t give a damn about your land issues, because, dude, city girl here. I hate nature and shit.”

“The point is… the rep they sent to Eagle River County? None other than Jason Hawley.”

Dead silence.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

“Nope. Titan Oil has a base of operations in North Dakota, near Minot, and they hired him.”

“When?”

“Last year. He’s been making his way down the proposed pipeline route.”

“Jesus. I know you and J-Hawk joked about your states being incestuous, and the normal six degrees of separation was about two degrees of separation, but that’s beyond bizarre. Of all the places you guys could cross paths again… What are the odds?”

I swallowed a mouthful of whiskey. “J-Hawk stacked the odds, Anna; he requested to be sent here.”

Her bout of silence scared me to the bone. Anna could morph from personable to stone cold in the blink of an eye.

So can you.

“And?” Anna said quietly. “Why did J-Hawk ask to be sent there?”

Like a total chickenshit, I hedged. “I think he came to collect on his debt for saving my life.”

“Bullshit. He flat-out said that to you?”

“No.”

“See? That’s not Jason’s way, and we both know it.”

I bristled. “It’s been what? Five years since you’ve seen him? Are you positive he hadn’t changed?”

“Yes, because I know him down to the core. You don’t have a fucking clue why he saved you in Bali, do you? I guarantee it wasn’t so you’d owe him an unnamed favor that he’d have to track you down to repay.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jason saved you because he’d lost two Ranger team members in a bomb attack the year before. Why do you think he never wanted to talk about it? Why do you think he didn’t strut around acting like a hero? That night in the club when he saw both you and Nigel in the rubble? It was déjà vu for him. He flipped out, Mercy. He swore you weren’t dead, just playing possum-whatever the hell that meant. As soon as he had you breathing again, he wanted to work on Nigel. The rescue team had to tranq Jason to get him to stop.”

“Why didn’t I know any of this?”

“Because the files were sealed, remember? Any military personnel records associated with the training ops with JCET in Indonesia became classified, because we weren’t supposed to be in Bali, let alone pretending to be civilians when those bombs went off in the nightclub district and at the U.S. Consulate.”

Stunned by her disclosure, I was even more guilt ridden.

“So you and J-Hawk get into a pissing match or something?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you call me?”

“Because he’s dead.” I repeated it so Anna didn’t have to ask me to repeat it. “Jason is dead, Anna. That’s what I called to tell you.”

Soul-sucking silence descended.

With luck, I’d be drunk when Anna found her voice. I drained the bottle and tossed it aside, hearing the glass chink against the rocks.

A cough. Then her customary brusqueness. “How’d he die?”

“Anna-”

“Tell me all of it.”

I spoke, stumbling over the words like I was picking my way through a minefield.

Finally, when she’d had enough, she whispered, “Stop.”

Her snuffling sobs burned my ear. The tears dampening my face felt like acid rain. For several long moments, our grief tethered us.

I shivered. My vision dimmed. What I wouldn’t give to pass the fuck out right about now.

Then Anna severed that bond, and she was done with sorrow. “Has he been sent home yet?”

“He went back to North Dakota today.”

“Any idea on the memorial service arrangements?”

“No.”

I could almost see her, phone jammed between her shoulder and her ear. Her dark brown hair obscuring her face as she loaded clips or cleaned her gun-tasks Anna could do without thinking.

So can you.

“Tell me, Gunny. What’s up with you? First you skip out on fulfilling your ranching destiny, then you pick something easy like bartending?”

I understood her need to turn the tables; I’d do the same if I teetered on the verge of a breakdown. Like me, she preferred to fall apart alone-and the world outside wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t ever see the gouge in her soul even when it was big enough and black enough to swallow her whole.

“I didn’t skip out on ranching duties. I was forced out.”

“You? Forced out? Bullshit. No one can take advantage of you without your permission. Unless you’re drunk.”

Heat flared in my cheeks because that was partially true. “You don’t understand. Jake doesn’t want me there.”

“Sounds like whining to me.”

I froze. “What?”

“Snap out of it. Be a rancher. Don’t be a rancher. But don’t sit on the fence about it. Ha-ha. Fence. Get it?”

“And how am I supposed to do that? Beg Jake to show me how to run the place I own ?”

“That’s what eats at you, doesn’t it? You can’t order him to fall in line. So instead of accepting that you’re not in control, you slink away like a whipped pup. Put up or shut up, Gunny. Besides, why would you want to bust your ass outside every day anyway when you have someone to do it for you? Especially when you’ve got a sweet and easy gig like tending bar?”

“Bartending is far from easy. It’s a ton of work for slave wages.”

“Sounds like a government job.” She laughed, and I heard her swallow. “Shit hours at a shit job that don’t pay shit? When’d you turn into a martyr? Oh right, you’ve always been one to suffer for the cause.”

“Fuck off, A-Rod.”

“Think about a change of venue, Gunny. Slaughtering is slaughtering, whether it’s in an abandoned oil field or out on the range. My company would hire you in a heartbeat.”

“I know. But that’s not the life I want.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

Neither of us pushed our point. I’d never sign on to be a paid killer; she didn’t see a difference between working for a private “protection” company or for Uncle Sam.

“Look, two hot porn stars are waiting to get it on for me, so I’m signing off.”

“You gonna be okay?”

No answer, which was my answer.

The phone went dead.

I stared ahead, tried to process the conversation. Not the parts about J-Hawk, but what Anna had said about how I’d handled the situation with Jake.

Had I misread it?

Had I become what I hated? A quitter? A… whiner?

Only one way to find out.

I staggered into the cabin and set the alarm for four a.m. before I let drunken sorrow drop-kick me to la-la land.

The sky was full-on black the next morning. No moon glow or sherbet blush of sunrise.

My brow was damp as I scaled the porch steps. Shoonga greeted me, tail wagging, tongue lolling, rubbing against me like he’d gone feline.

After I started the coffee, I fed Shoonga-outside. I gulped a glass of water, feeling like a stranger in my own house. The floorboards creaked above my head. Since the noise hadn’t been preceded by a baby’s cry, I bet Jake was up. I poured two cups and stifled a yawn.

Jake looked groggy as he entered the kitchen, but not particularly surprised to see me. “Mornin’, Mercy.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“ Unci ain’t about to haul her carcass out of bed this early, so it was either you or a break-in. I doubted a thief would’ve started coffee.” Jake took a big gulp of the steaming liquid and curled his hands around the mug. “What brings you by at o’dark thirty?”

“We need to talk.”

“I figured.”