Page 116 of Price of Angels

“Holly, how could it be worse to tell me?” Ava sat perched on the arm of the chair in her living room, arms folded across her middle in an instinctual, protective gesture, covering the baby inside her.

Outside, the two uniformed officers who’d responded to the call were still milling around at the foot of the iron staircase, filing the report and checking in with HQ.

Holly hadn’t expected Ava to call the police, and she’d almost begged her not to. But that would have made her look suspicious. That would have let Ava know there were secrets worth protecting; if Ava knew, Mercy would know, the whole club would know…She couldn’t let that happen.

So two officers had shown up, snapped photos, and collected the brick for evidence. They would dust for fingerprints they said, and survey the shop owners down on the street to see if anyone had witnessed the brick being thrown.

“This has nothing to do with the club,” Ava had explained, while they waited for the cops to arrive. “I want the little rat caught.” There had been a strange gleam to her eyes then, one that made Holly think she knew more than she let on…

But her expression was different now. Concerned and a little harried.

Holly studied her hands. “It would be worse,” she said, still too rattled to come up with a convincing lie. She shoved to her feet, stumbling over her own boots in her haste. “I’ll go. I’m so sorry this happened.” She looked at Ava’s face. Here she was in the home of a kind stranger, a woman who was pregnant, who was married to a devoted husband, and Holly had earned her a brick through the window. What if it had hit Ava? A projectile like that could kill a person. “I’m so sorry…” And she spun to go.

Footsteps were pounding up the iron staircase outside, and before Holly could reach it, Mercy burst through the door. His slick dark hair was pulled back, and it added to the tightness around his eyes. He was dressed in a thick leather jacket under his cut, leather gloves he hadn’t bothered to remove. He was tracking mud into the apartment and didn’t seem to care.

His eyes went straight to Ava. “Jesus Christ, are you okay? The cops outside–”

Ava held up a hand, like she was steadying him as he went to her. “We’re fine.”

At the sound of “we,” he turned sharply toward Holly, his gaze dark and aggressive.

She shrank beneath its touch.

He turned back to Ava and said, “Who the fuck threw a brick through the window? What did they want?” His face paled, muscles leaping in his lean cheeks as his jaw clenched. “Was it…” He trailed off, staring at his wife.

Ava shook her head. “It wasn’t anything to do with us.” There was an apology in her eyes as she glanced over at Holly. “The note on the back – I think it was for Holly.” She leaned forward. “Please tell us who did this. We can help you.”

Ava may have been earnest, but Mercy wasn’t. He had to be wondering if he could chuck her out the window the way the brick had come in.

He stared at her with a grim blend of understanding and fear – fear for his wife. “I always thought you were bad afraid of something,” he said.

She bowed her head.

“Holly…” Ava sounded frustrated.

“Call Michael,” Mercy said. “I wanna talk to him.”

By the time Michael parked his bike at the foot of the iron staircase leading up to the Lécuyers’ apartment, his stomach was one hard knot. His pulse thumped at his temples. Inside his gloves, his palms felt damp, sticking to the leather.

Mercy waited for him, sitting on one of the lower steps and having a smoke.

Michael propped his foot on the lowest step, rested a hand on the railing, so he had to look up at the man. He would give him that deference: this was his house, and his world he’d endangered with his own.

“What happened?” Michael asked. They’d already talked about the brick over the phone. He wanted the underlying story.

Mercy took a long drag and released the smoke slowly through his teeth. “They were in the kitchen when it came through. Standing at the counter. Neither of them heard anything beforehand, down in the street. But they wouldn’t have – they were talking.”

He continued: “Ava said it looked like one of those old heavy bricks. I’m guessing whoever it was snitched it off the pile where they’re doing the restoration at the courthouse.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Mercy flashed a humorless smile. “Jesus.”

Michael curled his fingers around the iron rail, tightening and releasing them in a pattern that matched the angry beating of his heart. A sweeping sense of guilt and failure washed over him. Abraham and Jacob should be in the ground already, nothing but a few small bones left to grind beneath the hogs’ hooves. He had failed Holly, in his slowness. It was inexcusable.

“The girls are alright?” he asked, not recognizing his own voice for its thickness.

“This time they are.”

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