Page 110 of Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son

“For what it’s worth,” Duet said, tone dry, “I think this is a terrible and stupid idea.”

“Lucky for you, it’s not your decision,” Blue Eyes said. Then, to Fallon, grinning with all his teeth bared, like he meant to bite Fallon’s throat out, “Good news, Agent Pedo: you get to take me home tonight.”

“No. No, no, shit no, I’m not–”

But the boy’s grin widened, and hewas, wasn’t he?

Fuck him.

~*~

Mercy pulled the Velcro strap so tight it forced a little of the air out of Ava’s lungs, and then smoothed it down into place. “How’s that?”

Ava glanced down at her chest, frowning. The vest was still too large – meant for a man, and a large one at that – but it was snug. “It’s hard to breathe.”

“That means it’s doing its job,” Mercy said, and when she lifted her head, he caught her face gently between both wide palms. “Hey.”

She smiled, despite the fluttering of her pulse, and the tension headache that gripped her around the temples; despite the low-grade nausea, and the churning of her stomach. “Hey.”

She’d braided his hair for him earlier, close to his scalp, out of the way, in two plaits whose long tails she’d banded together into one thick rope afterward. It left his face clear, without the usual black curtains of hair to frame it, and she could read the tension along his jaw and around his eyes. There was asoftness to his smile, though, that secret tenderness that was for her and her alone.

The chaos in her stilled at sight of that smile. In her relentless pursuit of keeping the black tide of despair at bay, she had instead allowed desperation and fractious energy to mount, so that heart palpitations and breathlessness had become her constant state of existence. She hadn’t slept, but couldn’t imagine doing so; couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.

All that mattered was getting thisdone. Getting Remy into their custody and cutting Boyle down.

But for the heartbeats that he held her face, the storm quieted, and she took her first deep breath in days.

He said, voice low and fond, “If you were a different sort of woman, I’d ask you to stay here. To stay safe.”

“But you know better,” she guessed, smile widening.

“I do. Pretty smart guy, huh?”

When she stretched up on her toes to kiss him, he leaned down, so she didn’t heave to reach so far. It was gentle, chaste for them, more about comfort than heat. After, he rested his forehead against hers, and put his arms around her, so their vest-covered torsos pushed against one another on each breath, a counter rhythm, her chest expanding as his receded.

He murmured something in French that didn’t need a translation.

“I know,” she said. “You, too. Let’s go get our baby.”

“Let’s go get him.”

~*~

Last year, Lucy’s mama, Holly, asked Remy’s mama if they wanted to go out to Michael’s uncle’s farm and visit with the animals. Cal and Millie had been fascinated by the cows and the goats, but Remy was most fascinated by the dogs, and Uncle Wyn took him on a tour through the kennels.

“Will he bite?” Remy asked, before offering his hand to the massive black Great Dane, Crassus, to sniff.

“Nah, he’s a good boy,” Uncle Wyn had said. “Brave dogs don’t bite. It’s the scared ones who nip ya.”

That was what Boyle brought to mind now: a scared dog. He prowled around the warehouse, inspecting the items Lloyd and his men had laid out on the tables, snapping orders, checking his phone, and all the time, he looked ready to bite someone.

He’s scared, Remy thought, and hoped the thing he was scared of was his daddy.

The door squealed open, and Boyle rounded mid-step to see who’d entered. It was Fallon, face shiny with sweat, hair stuck up at odd angles from countless passes of his hand.

“What the hell?” Boyle demanded.

“Sorry, sorry.” Fallon spread his hands in apology. “I couldn’t get her off the phone, but I handled it. She won’t bother me again.”

---