Page 14 of Mercy in Betrayal

I kneel down in front of her. “These things just happen,” I say.

“On campus? On my first day at work?” She looks ready to cry, a tear actually welling up and sliding down the pale perfection of her cheek before she swipes it angrily away.

The depraved part of me had pictured her tears before I arrived. They were something that went hand in hand with the idea of revenge. Maybe they would come with the realization that she was completely at my mercy. Maybe they would stream down her face when my cock was in her mouth—I hadn’t gotten that far yet. I just knew I relished the idea of them.

Right now, though, faced with the reality of them, I just want her to stop. I have no fucking idea what to do with a weeping woman.

That’s because you’re a fucking idiot. My father makes a grand reappearance in my mind, and I shove the door closed on him. I have no time for him right now.

“Miss?” I look up to see a security guard—one who actually belongs on campus—hovering. “We received a report of an attempted mugging. Would you like to come with us and file an official statement?”

Panic flashes across Rowan’s lovely features, and I know exactly what’s going through her mind, as I’ve been spying on her for days. Her brother has no idea she has a job, and if she files a report, word will get back to him immediately. He’ll be upset that the authorities were involved, and she’ll lose what limited freedom she has, and for what? Nothing much happened.

My little bird is in quandary.

Her lips part, and I place a hand over hers, stopping her before she can speak. “Everything is okay,” I say. “We stopped the guy before anything happened, and all’s well that ends well. I don’t think a report is necessary, unless, of course, you do?” I look at Rowan, eyebrows arched innocently.

She shakes her head. “No! I agree. Everything is fine, officer. Thank you so much.”

The young security guard puffs up his chest at being called officer and steps away.

“Robberies happen all the time.” My words fail to break through her panic that’s rising hard and fast; she clutches the edge of the bench beneath her as she battles it back with each breath.

Fuck me.

I need to get the hell out of here.

“It’s okay, R—little bird.” I almost say her name and stop myself. Not that I think she would notice at this moment. She's too distraught.

Don’t worry, she will see through this charade eventually. All you have is a small window of time, and my son, you are running out of road. My father’s voice continues to pound any confidence I had in handling this situation into the ground.

Rowan takes another long breath; her blue eyes swim with tears she is clearly fighting to keep at bay. Her tears… I’m not prepared for them. She needs to stop crying.

“I need my cat,” she says and nods several times as if to confirm that what she says is true.

I glance around. I don’t think she would have taken the creature to work. I don’t see it. “Your cat?” I echo the words, like I don’t know anything about the creature. I’ll get him for her, anything other than watching her cry.

“He’s at home,” she says on trembling lips.

Home?

“Do you want me to take you home?” I ask.

She nods, and I rise almost immediately and take out my phone. I was hoping for this moment. I know exactly how this will play out. I hit the dial button and wait a beat until I speak. “I’m going to miss my meeting with my friend,” I say and glance back at Rowan. She’s staring up at me like I’m about to fix everything. Smart girl. I am.

“Oh…I…it’s okay. I can get myself home—” she begins.

“No, everything is fine.” I face the main doors. “Bring me my car.” I end the call and think how lucky I was that Rowan didn’t follow her brother's rules. If he knew she had a job, he would end it in seconds. I smile internally, knowing her little secret.

“The car will be here in a moment,” I say.

Rowan has a calmer look on her face; her hands no longer grip the side of the seat. While I was on the phone, she gathered the red cash box and hugged it to her belly. She rises, holding it tightly.

“I need to return the box before I leave.”

“Where do you turn it in?” I ask.

“The office on the first floor.”

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