Page 47 of Turn That River Red

I snort. Big surprise there. “Yeah, well, I’m not worried about it. Like I said, Charlotte just needs her parents’ names so she can track them down.”

The tabs flash by.Bronson. Buford. Callen.

“I wish I could meet her,” Mercy says softly.

I pause, just for a second. Part of me wishes that, too, but I keep pushing through the tabs. Becausethat’san impossibility.

Careta, Franklin.There it is.

I yank the file out of the box, flip it open.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Mercy asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “I think I did.” I glance down at the papers in the file—an intake form forBaby Medina. Medina. I don’t know any Hunters with that name, but that doesn’t mean much.

I scan over the intake form, looking for anything that could point to the full name of Charlotte’s birth parents. Mercy leans close to me, her breath warm on my shoulder.

“You know,” I say, still skimming the form as I talk. “I decided when we came in here I was either going to punish you or reward you.”

Mercy’s heart rate picks up, and I glance at her over the top of the file, give her a slow, easy grin. Her eyes widen.

“I-I don’t understand,” she says shyly.

I think she does, though. She squeezes her dress up in her fists, and the blood is rushing to her face.

“If we didn’t find the file, I was going to punish you.” I flip the intake form over, and there, finally, I see it:

Mother:Julia Medina.Father:Johnny Dobsals.

There’s an address next to the mother’s name, some small town in Oklahoma. Next to the father’s, it just says,Location unknown.

Well, damn. It looks like Charlotte’s mom was the one who put her up for adoption, which means she’s almost certainly not a Hunter—no Hunter would give their child to a fucking church. But I don’t recognize this Johnny Dobsals, either. Granted, most of us change names like we change clothes.

At least I’ve got a starting point, though.

“But you did find the file,” Mercy says softly. “Didn’t you? Is that it?”

I snap it shut and peer up at her.

“I did,” I say. “Which means you get a reward.”

I stand. Mercy doesn’t move, just gazes up at me. Fuck, I love her like that. Pliant. Supplicant. Eager to please.

Sterling Gunner doesn’t deserve her.

“What kind of reward?” But she knows. I can see it in the gleam of her eyes. I can smell it in the arousal perfuming the air.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell her. “And you’ll find out.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

MERCY

It feels like a dream, being down here. Or a fantasy, like the fantasies I conjured up when I was in the marriage suite alone, sliding my hand between my legs. But it’s neither.

It’s real. I broke Ambrose into the bunker; I helped him steal a file that’s supposed to be sealed. And there’s a killer stalking the church, one who could walk through the unlocked bunker door and attack both of us.

“Don’t youwantyour reward?” Ambrose says softly, kicking the box aside to step up closer to me. He presses his fingers under my chin, tilting my head upward.

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