Page 44 of Turn That River Red

And, if all things go right, I can protect her from that. I can get my files, fuck her proper the one time, and be on my way. Down south to Big Bend, a handful of delicious new memories to use whenever I want to fuck my hand. And I’ll leave her with a handful of memories, too.

“Why?” she asks. “Because of God?”

For a moment, I have no idea what she’s talking about. But then my false identity kicks into place. “Exactly,” I say, then pull out a Bible quote: “‘Fear thou not, for I am with thee.’”

Mercy smiles a little, although I don’t think she believes me.

“I’ll go tonight,” I say. “Midnight.”

Then I step close to her and wind my arm around her waist. She doesn’t try to push me away, and when I nuzzle her neck, she sighs softly and puts her hands delicately on my chest. I speak into her skin.

“And you’re going to come with me.”

Mercy jerks away with a jolt of fear. It’s not true terror,although it’s close enough that my cock strains against my pants and I breathe the scent in deep. Mercy stares at me.

“Why do you want me to go with you?”

I look at her, considering all the ways I can answer that question. I go with the most practical. “So you can help me find the right files.”

But also because I want to make sure I see her one last time before I sneak out of this fucked-up church and back to my normal life. Because even though I shouldn’t, I really, really want to fuck her. It surprises me, honestly, how badly I want it. How much I’ve needed to get her sweet fear out of my system since I heard her scream down at the Concho River.

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“Don’t worry.” I can’t stop myself from coiling my fingers around her throat—gently, of course. Not that it bothers her. I can sense everything about her body’s reaction. The way her fear melts away and is replaced with a warm, pulsing lust. I run my thumb along her trachea, into the hollow at the base of her throat, and when she swallows, I feel the movement. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

That, at least, is a promise I can keep.

Mercy lays her head against my chest like she wants to listen to my heartbeat the way I like to listen to hers. “The woman you’re doing this for,” she says softly. “Who is she to you? Really?”

Is that a twinge of jealousy I hear from her? I squeeze her shoulders a little, pressing her into me.

“She’s the girlfriend of a long-time friend of mine,” I say honestly, and immediately, the tension slips out of Mercy’s shoulders. “She needs to know the identity of her birth parents for a—a medical reason.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Mercy pulls away from me. “What’s her name?”

“Charlotte Careta.” I smooth Mercy’s hair back, smiling down at her. “I think you two would get along.”

It’s the right thing to say, and it’s not even a lie. Mercy smiles, although there’s a sadness to it. “I feel like all the women here hate me,” she says. “Because I’m—” She stops and bites her lower lip, but she doesn’t need to say anything more. Because I get it. Sterling Gunner pitted her against the wives. Mercy represents their biggest fear, doesn’t she?

“That’s not your fault,” I say softly. “Because there’s nothing hateable about you, Mercy.”

She smiles and falls back into my arms. I pull her close, and I’ll admit this position is strange to me. Holding her without intending to fuck her. Just comforting her. Making her feel safe. That’s not what the boogeyman is supposed to do.

“When do you want to go to the bunker?” she asks.

I press my nose into her hair to breathe in her scent. I can’t put this off. I’m digging myself into a hole with her, and if I don’t get out soon, I don’t think I ever will.

“Tonight,” I tell her. “We’ll go tonight.”

“You’re a terrible influence for a preacher.”

Oh, if you only knew, darling. But the only response I give her is another kiss, a promise of what I’m going to do to her.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

AMBROSE

Iblur into the shadows outside Mercy’s little cabin, watching the dark windows and listening to the sounds of humanity inside. One of the benefits of being a Hunter is that my senses come alive at night; the deeper the ichor, the more the world lights up for me. Not in sight, of course, but in sound and scent and taste. And I can tell that Mercy is awake inside that cabin.

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