Page 17 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
“You gotta sleep sometime, Cohen. And when you do...”
My pulse skyrocketed, and I stormed into the room before I could stop myself.
“Did you threaten him?” I snarled at Puck, my fists clenched and ready to decimate.
Zeke grabbed me by the scruff before I made it halfway across the room. Puck’s insane laughter followed us outside into the hall.
“Wildcat,” Zeke said, irritation flashing in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t come to see me after school.” I frowned and looked at my feet. “I was worried.”
“I was caught up.”
“Fighting Puck?”
“You don’t need to worry about him. I’ll find us a way out of here, even if I have to adopt you myself.”
Warmth spread from my chest outward, then I remembered to reach into my pocket. “I brought you dinner.”
Unfortunately, the bread rolls were squashed and crumbly. “Sorry. I’ll make honey cakes tomorrow.”
“It will still taste good.” He bit a chunk out and made appreciative sounds as he ate. “And your cakes are the best I’ve ever tasted. Can’t wait until tomorrow.” I grinned with pride as he ruffled my hair. But then his mood grew serious as his hand slipped to tuck some hair behind my ear. He stared at me for a long, weird moment, suddenly scowled, and snatched his hand away. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You trust me, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Now, off you go and do your bedtime checks.”
* * *
My “checks” were nightly rounds around the group home to see if windows were closed. I couldn’t leave any potential for stray sparks wafting in and setting the house on fire. At that age, I’d already had too many suspicious house fires blamed on me at other foster homes. I always received the blame, even if I was nowhere near the fire.
I still don’t sleep well unless I’ve done my checks, although they’ve expanded from the group home to an enormous estate. Speaking of which... It’s getting late. I glance at the arched window high in the archive. The sun will set in a few hours. I need to get in my workout and then start before dark.
Mercy notices me standing, whispers something to Tawny, then walks over to me.
“You finishing?” she asks, a pinch to her lips.
There is a wild, unhinged look in her eyes. Her usually glossy and wavy hair is frizzy and tied back. Despite no makeup, Mercy is a beauty beyond comparison. She’s also one of our deadliest assassins and our team leader. Although Thea seems to be naturally taking over that latter role. I think it’s leaving Mercy feeling rudderless, and from the look in her eyes, she wants to talk.
I tense and shift uncomfortably. Talking about feelings isn’t really for me, but I guess with Thea busy, and Prue dead, Mercy’s only other options are Tawny—the perpetual optimist, or Raven—the perpetual pessimist.
I nod. “Going to work out and do my rounds.”
“Do you mind if I tag along?”
A churning in my gut says no, but I can’t leave her here like this. And, if she’s talking about herself, she won’t ask about me. It’s only a matter of time before they all figure out something is off between Zeke and me.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask gruffly as we walk out.
She ties up her hair into a knot, sucks in a breath, and then unloads as soon as we’re outside and walking in the brisk mountain air.
“I’m fucking horny, babe.”
“What’s new?” I intone.
She rounds on me with wild eyes. “I’m serious. I need to fuck.”
I stop and raise my brow. “Mercy, you always need to fuck.”
