Page 10 of Of Sinners & Salvation
“You’re such a cheapskate,” Saint says. “You don’t even need it. Your parents are doctors and lawyers.”
“That’s their money,” Nathaniel says, not looking up from where he’s booting up two laptops at once. “And who said anything about cash?”
“Fine,” I say, hoping I’m not getting myself deeper into something I can’t get out of, the kind of life I tried to leave behind when I moved here. I wanted a fresh start, and I got one. The last thing I want to do is compromise it all now. But it would be worth it to know Mercy’s safe and happy, even if I can’t be part of her life the way I want to. If this is the condition of finding her, so be it.
“I had the tracker put in her like you told me,” Saint says. “I’ve been watching her location since, so I know it works. Until a few days ago.”
Nathaniel pulls out a packet of Twizzlers and sets it beside his stuff before sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs. “Of course,” he says. “If it’s anyone who knows anything, they’d deactivate a regular tracker as soon as they ditched her phone.”
“That seems a little presumptuous,” I murmur. “She’s not a dog. Why would anyone assume a human has a tracking chip?”
“Mercy’s not just any human, is she?” Nathaniel asks, tapping away at his wireless keyboard. “She’s Angel North’s girlfriend.”
His words settle between us like a weight, the seriousness of the situation increasing with each new revelation, each new realization. No one speaks until the front door swings open, and then we all jump. Angel steps through, the cat darts under the couch, and Walker sighs heavily.
“If I’d known I’d be sleeping in the parade route, I would have crashed on someone else’s couch,” he mutters.
“Who the fuck is that?” Angel demands.
“It’s a seminary student,” I tell him. “He won’t bother us.”
“Bullshit,” Angel says, wrenching the blankets off the couch. “This is Hellhound business.”
Walker sits up with a sound of exasperation, but Angel’s gone stock still.
“A Sincero?” he roars, grabbing Walker by the throat. “I just did the world a favor and got rid of one of you sons of bitches. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t take out another?”
“I’m a Delacroix,” Walker says, looking Angel straight in the eye without flinching. If anything, he swells a little, as if just saying his name makes his spine a little straighter and his shoulders squarer. That kind of family pride fascinates me. It’s hard for me to even imagine that being a point of pride to someone. I’ve only known loathing for my own family.
“What?” Angel grits out between his teeth, clearly incensed that someone contradicted him.
“I’m not a Sincero,” Walker says cooly. “I’m a Delacroix.”
“You took her,” Angel roars, shaking the other man like a ragdoll. “You rat bastards fucking took my girl!”
“He didn’t take her,” I say, laying a hand on Angel’s shoulder. After a second, he relents, though he’s trembling with rage, his muscles coiled and ready to strike. Power wells inside me, the awe I always feel when someone powerful obeys me sweeping over my limbs, filling my chest with the kind of exultation that my father only found in violence.
I tell myself there’s a difference, but I don’t really believe it.
“Get him out of here,” Angel says, his voice shaking with barely suppressed fury.
“Why don’t you take a walk,” I suggest to Walker.
“Gladly,” he mutters. He stands and grabs a sweatshirt off the rack near the door, disappearing through it into thenight without even bothering to dress properly. The cat darts out behind him, but the boys at the table don’t notice, so I assume he’ll come back.
“Why the fuck do you have a Sincero in your house?” Angel asks, wheeling on me, his green eyes dark with fury.
“My job is to be there for anyone in need,” I point out. “Not just you.”
Angel’s jaw clenches, and he tips his head back, giving me that hard, blank look. “Then we can’t trust you.”
“You can trust me,” I grit out, glaring back at him. “You think I don’t want to get her back as much as you do? She’s—”
She’s my perfect little lamb, sweet yet spicy, innocent yet depraved; wanton in her eagerness and alluring in her innocence.
“She’s special,” I finish lamely.
“You pay even if they kick you off the project,” Nathaniel calls, not looking up from his computer. He chews absently at one of his red licorice sticks as he works.
