Page 142 of Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son

Ian’s head tipped, smirk broadening.Come on. “Out of everyone, you expectedmeto be the most truthful?”

Aidan sighed. “Nah. Not really.”

“Are you angry?”

“With you? No. I’ve always known you were a snake.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“A good one, most of the time. But.” He shrugged. “You do what’s best for you.”

Ian studied him another moment, then faced forward. “These days, what’s best for me is also what’s best for the club.”

“The club.” Aidan nodded. “Is that what he told you? When he asked you to keep his secret? It was for the club?”

“He said it was for you, actually.” When Aidan glanced over, sharply, Ian gazed back at him with a sort of calm, indulgent affection that left the back of his neck prickling.

“Right. Fake your death. That’s good for your son.” Aidan missed the snide tone he’d aimed for, and instead sounded embarrassingly airless.

“I cautioned him that it would…” Ian seemed to consider his words, and then said, “hurt you. To do it this way. But he was adamant that you be totally, truly innocent in his plot. He chose to protect you physically in that way, knowing that there would be an emotional fallout.”

Aidan’s heart was no longer beating slow and steady. His palms prickled, and he pressed them flat to his knees. “Emotional fallout? Gross. Shut up.”

Ian, being Ian, did not shut up. “I don’t know what he’ll say to you – or how badly he’ll bungle it, in truth – but he deceived you out of love. At least believe that.”

“Fuck you, man.” Aidan made to stand, and Ian gripped his wrist. Lightly enough that he could have pulled away – but he didn’t. He was breathing hard, now, pulse racing in his ears, stomach churning. But he stayed seated. “Fuck you,” he repeated, “you’re such a daddy’s boy, you’d let him get away with murder.”

Ian’s brows lifted.

“It’s a figure of damn speech. You know what I mean.”

Ian nodded. “I suppose I do.” His expression turned contemplative. “I suppose, if I can self-reflect – which I’ve been working on with my therapist, thank you very much – that I was so starved for genuine affection that I’m more forgiving of personal faults than you are. I know that Ghost genuinely cares for me. That he will protect me if he can, and will allow me to protect him in turn. That he won’t use my past as a weapon against me.

“Our perceptions of people are all relative, I suppose.” His gaze, though soft, drilled straight into Aidan with a force that left him wanting to sway backward. “It’s all about perspective. Ghost is perhaps not a good man, but he’s the best man I’ve ever known personally.”

Aidan blinked at him.

Ian patted his leg, and stood. Behind him, someone stood at the end of the pew, dressed in black. “Something to consider, if my high opinion of him means anything to you.”

Ian slipped out of the pew, and Ava took his place.

She looked like she’d washed her hair in a hospital bathroom sink, and likely had; it was still damp, and knotted tightly on top of her head. She wore black leggings, and a blackhoodie so huge and swallowing it was clearly Mercy’s. Her face was thin, sallow, and scratched, shiny in places with ointment.

Aidan was reminded, forcefully, of almost nine years ago, and a deserted stretch of too-hot New Orleans highway, his sister crouched wild-eyed over Mercy’s unconscious body, ready to shoot her own brother in the name of protecting him.

He said, “You look like shit.”

“I’ve been throwing up all morning.”

“You have the Salisbury steak at the cafeteria last night? I told RJ not to risk it.”

“No. I’m pregnant.”

“Shit,again?”

Her head turned toward him slowly, and though the sleepless circles beneath her eyes were deep as bruises, the lookinher eyes promised a swift death.

“Hey.” He held up both hands, palms toward her. “Congrats and all. But do you guys do anythingbutfuck? How many are you gonnahave? ‘Cause if you end up with, like, nineteen or something, and they give you your own show, I wanna make sure – ow! Shit!”

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