Page 36 of The Echo of Violence

“Anytime, Mercy. Anytime.”

I walk back into the main room. Half of the guys are already going at the girls. Scope, Wizz, and Kaz ignore it all, talking among themselves. Eightball is finishing his food, while Ginger looks like she is trying to find Knight’s tonsils with her tongue.

With a shake of my head, I go up to my room. Unlike the others, I have a thumbprint reader on my door to keep people out—I’m not a massive fan of people in general—but also because I keep a collection of weapons here that could blow this place to pieces.

Opening the door, I head inside and grab my duffle bag from under the bed. Yes, I know there are better places to keep guns, but with an arsenal like this, I need to be able to move them quickly if the cops raid the place. I don’t bother riffling through it. I just grab the bag, take it down, and go out the back to where a shooting range is set up in the far field.

I can just make out Mercy sitting alone on one of the picnic benches. I stop and watch her for a moment, not liking what I’m feeling. She looks so fucking lost right now. The Mercy we all know and love is full of life, a wrecking ball that goes all in, balls to the wall. But something has changed in her lately, and all the things that made her shine seem to have dulled while none of us were looking. There is a sadness seeping from her that hurts to watch. I don’t know what’s causing it, but for the first time, I realize that Mercy might not be as happy here as we all thought she was.

I walk over. As I get closer, she must sense me because she turns and smiles. It’s small but genuine, and it loosens something in my chest. I need to talk to Scope, Kaz, and Wizz to see if there is anything I can do to help. Mercy is important to all of us. If she’s not happy, it will trickle down to the rest of us.

“I brought my bag of tricks. Want to have a look through while I set the targets up?”

She claps her hands, giddy, and it makes me grin. I place the bag on the table beside her and walk down to the targets, ensuring they are all good to go. Luckily, whoever used the targets last remembered to change them out for new ones.

I walk back up to Mercy, who is slipping on one of the few sets of ear protectors I keep in the bag. They’re a little big on her, but they’ll do.

“You good?”

“Yep. Can I go first?”

“Sure. What did you pick?”

She lifts the Glock from the table with a smirk.

I shake my head and laugh. “Go big or go home, huh? Show me what you’ve got, short stuff. Don’t think I’ll take it easy on you because you’re a woman.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Splinter.”

And the thing is, she wouldn’t. She might bat her lashes and tease the fuck out of us all, but she’s never pretended to be feeble and meek. It’s why watching her become smaller bothers me so much.

She stands in position, sights her gun, and blows out a slow breath before firing. I don’t need to walk down and see what her aim is like. She destroys the first target. And she keeps firing until the gun clicks and she’s out of bullets.

She turns and places the gun and ear protection on the table before pulling a few others from the bag—a Remington and a Colt .45.

“Again?”

“You can go. Just let me switch out the target.”

I pull the gun at my back—my everyday Glock. It’s the one I carry everywhere. Though I can shoot almost anything, I like to make sure that the gun I carry is the one I’m most comfortable with.

I see movement ahead, so I look up and find half the club coming out, drawn by the sound of rapid gunfire. I was supposed to give them a heads-up, but with Mercy on my mind, I completely forgot. I’d feel like a dick for scaring them if I wasn’t angry about how I found Mercy. Has nobody else seen how sad she is? Or have they, and they’ve just done nothing about it?

A few of the guys walk closer. The rest hang back with some of the club girls. I keep one eye on them as I check how many bullets I have in the chamber and wait for Mercy to walk back to me.

“Okay, you’re good to go.”

She ignores the approaching brothers, turning her back on them as she climbs up and sits on the table beside my bag. I walk forward and get into a comfortable stance, ignoring the low rumble of conversation as I lift my gun, take aim, and fire.

Unlike Mercy, I don’t empty the magazine. I fire off three shots, two hitting the center and one just outside of it.

I pull back and look at Mercy before winking. “I’ve still got it.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “You never lost it, and you know it. You could probably hit that thing with your eyes closed.”

“I love the faith you have in me, Mercy. You’re damn good for my ego.”

I walk down to change out the target and take mine back with me. When I get back, Scope and Wizz are at the table, and Kaz is walking over with a handful of beers.

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