Page 18 of Begging for Mercy
“So you can’t be surprised that I’m vetoing this.”
“You can’t veto it. We won’t get Mercy if we don’t include him. You’re the one who insisted on killing her,” he reminds me, frowning at me over the top of the monitor. “We could have fucked her last night. Had a little fun. I could have made her forget all about Alejandro.”
I’m going to have an aneurysm. My head pounds in time with my heartbeat, and I have to close my eyes. Why does his solution to everything always involve his dick? I take a deep breath in through my nose. “What are we going to do?” I open my eyes to find Kane staring out the balcony’s glass doors.
“We’ll make it look like an accident. Put them together. The police could find them this time, and then it’s not our problem. His dad won’t search the city for their killer if it’s ruled an accident or suicide.” Kane leans back and sinks into the pleather couch, carelessly tossing my laptop to the side. “They looked close. We could make them seem like they’re dating.” He’s frowning as he says it, but it’s not a bad idea.
“That could work,” I say slowly, moving to the window to close the blinds. “They could be dating for real now. He says he wants her to fall in love with him.” Sure, he might say it’s to save her life, but he wouldn’t have chosen that condition for winningthe game if he didn’t already want her to fall for him. “He could win. He has a headstart.”
“Bullshit,” Kane snaps, punching the cushion beside him. “She doesn’t like him that way.” But I can tell he’s not convinced; his forehead crinkles as he glares at his fists. “Shedoesn’t.” Switching gears, he jabs a finger at me. “Just sleep with her, man, and it’ll all be over. Then you won’t have to worry about the other guy. But we’ll wait to kill her until next year; I want to watch her spiral.”
Displeasure sours inside my gut. It’s not that she isn’t pretty—she’s got this haunting quality about her—but I just don’tfeelthat way about her. Kane can drop his pants for anyone, but I don’t want her anywhere near me. Not like that. “No,” I answer simply, “I don’t think I will.”
I can’t wait to watch her fail over and over again, tripping over herself as she gets more desperate with each passing month. I wonder if she’ll grow bolder the closer we get to the deadline. But, realistically, I doubt we’ll make it to the spring with this game. It’ll probably be over by the new year, and Kane and I can move on with our lives.
Speaking of—“Are you graduating this year?”
The sudden swing in conversation turns Kane off. He pushes himself off the couch and tries to hide in his bedroom. I block him from closing the door. “You’re a fifth-year senior. You need to graduate.” We can’t keep killing in the same place or we’ll get caught. We’ve already had a few close calls with the feds. At this rate, we’ll have to go underground and join the Baranovas in their illegal deals just to stay under the radar.
Ireallydon’t want to have to learn to speak Russian.
Kane grabs his sketchbook from the desk and flips to a random page. “I don’t need to graduate. I already have a portfolio and enough clients to keep us running for years.”
I prepare myself for our usual argument. He doesn’t want to leave the city, and he doesn’t want to stop pretending that he’s a student. But he’s an artist—he can live and work anywhere. “Then drop out.”
He scratches a line onto the page. “I’m good, thanks.”
“You don’t even go to class.”
“I finished them all.”
Sighing, I retreat to the living room and grab my laptop. Pulling open a new browser tab, I log in to his student portal and open his graduation profile to check his transcript. He’s taking one studio class this semester, and then he has one more before he’s officially done with his Bachelor’s of Fine Arts. “It says here that you have a studio class.”
“I turn in my assignments after hours.”
“So you don’t actually go?”
He ignores my question, but it gives me space to think. I click back to Sam’s student profile and confirm his major before searching for Mercy’s.
Fine Arts.
Senior.
She’s in the same grade and discipline as Kane.
If we’re going to win this game, we need to work smarter, not harder. Sam has the upper hand on account of his relationship with Mercy. We’re at a disadvantage.
It’s time we changed that.
“You’re going to class,” I inform Kane, snapping my laptop closed, “because Mercy will be there.”
That catches Kane’s attention. He drops the sketchbook and pencil onto his bed and jumps up like he’s ready to leave immediately. “She will? You’re sure?”
“If you’re both enrolled in Painting Level III with Mrs. Lebottowitz, then yeah. Next semester she has to take anExhibition class, and then she’s graduating.” I nod my head. “Same as you.”
Kane claps me on the shoulder and grins. “Guess I’m graduating with our siren. You should be thrilled.”
My smile pinches, but I play it off well enough. I’ll be glad to get out of this city, so graduation should convince Kane that it’s worthwhile. Mercy, however, is still as much of a problem as she was the moment she stumbled into our sights.
