Page 30 of Train Wreck

Chapter Sixteen

Gettingto Mercy’s house took longer than I’d thought. The roads were empty, and we were having to stick to the shadows to get there or risk being picked up and thrown in jail. County- and city-mandated curfews were no joke. Police would be looking for people like us, people who had no business on the streets, so I had to leave Grams’ SUV at the storage unit.

“How do you know she’s even home?” Hugh asked, resting his hand over the bandage on his shoulder.

“She’ll be there. And on the off chance she’s not, she’ll have made her way to our parents’ home. Regardless, her soon-to-be husband is a cop and can drive us over without us getting arrested.”

I came up the back way to Mercy’s home, jumping her fence and cutting through her backyard. The for-sale sign had been removed from the yard. The sale was pending. The house was cloaked in darkness, but dim light flickered behind the curtains.

“Someone’s home,” I said and snuck around the side of the house and up onto the porch while checking up and down the street. The nosy neighbors weren’t outside. No one was.

I could hear the voices just on the other side of the door.

“Mercy, think about this,” I heard Clark Weller say. “There’s a curfew. You leave and you're breaking the law.”

“Okay,” she said. “There’s money in my cookie jar for you to bail me out of jail. I refuse to wait another day. Honor could be in serious trouble. I need to get to her.” Mercy growled in a way I’d never heard before.

I’d lifted my hand to knock as the door flew open. Mercy was standing on the threshold, wearing a rain jacket, and her fiancé was behind her with an umbrella in hand.

“Thank God.” Mercy’s relief came out in a rush even as her gaze landed on Hugh and the bandage sticking out from beneath his wet shirt.

“Get in here before you get arrested,” Mercy demanded, opening the door wider, then stepping aside to allow us to pass.

Mercy’s fiancé, Clark Weller, wasn’t as welcoming with Hugh. He was the sheriff of a frozen little town in Colorado who had followed Mercy home in the hopes that she’d return with him. There was never any question that she wouldn’t. She’d fallen fast and hard for the guy.

Clark and Hugh eyed each other like cops, sizing each other up as I made the introductions.

“Sheriff Clark Weller of Colorado, this is Hugh…” I glanced at him, unsure of his last name.

Hugh held out his hand. “Special Agent Hugh MacCabe.”

Mercy rested her hand on her hip. “MacCabe? As in Senator MacCabe?”

Hugh’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, that was my dad.”

“You got ID or a badge?” Clark asked.

“I was undercover. I don’t have anything on me.”

Mercy’s hands rested on her hips as if she was fighting the urge to reach out and touch him to find out how he was going to die.

I rested my palm on her arm. “It’s okay. I believe him.”

“You must be Mercy,” Hugh said, holding out his hand.

Mercy smiled and reached for it, but I knocked Hugh’s hand down before she could touch it. Not even I wanted to know how I was going to die. Hugh probably wouldn’t either. “Not everyone wants to know.”

Hugh’s brows dipped, but he didn’t question it.

“Fine. Let’s get you both dried off and cleaned up so you can tell us what’s going on.”

Mercy led me down the hall to her room after grabbing a flashlight. She took some towels out of the closet and tossed me one before disappearing down the hallway.

Mercy’s voice carried down the hall as she spoke with Clark and Hugh. “You got some spare clothes he can borrow?”

“Sure,” I heard Clark answer.

“You boys play nice,” Mercy said before reappearing in the room. She rummaged through her closet and drawers and tossed a few items onto the bed. “Those will have to do. I’ve already got a lot of my stuff packed.”

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