Page 49 of Wyoming Cowboy Undercover

Her father waved him off. “It can wait. Mercy’s well-being must come first.”

“But, Empyrean—”

“Silence.” Her father’s tone sharpened, but he didn’t raise his voice. “Her eternal soul hangs in the balance. Nothing you have to say is more important.” He tsk-tsked him away as if Alex was a dog.

But that was how he treated them both, like pets.

Alex closed the door to the office behind him.

Her father guided her down onto the sofa and sat beside her. She clasped her hands in her lap, unsure of how to proceed.

He didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t goad. Didn’t chastise. Didn’t push. He simply put a big, warm palm over her folded hands. Staring at her, he remained silent, his gaze soft, his demeanor calm.

There was no atmosphere of pressure. If anything, his approach conveyed support. Love. He was the picture of a nurturing father.

Or the perfect predator laying a trap.

The silence grew, expanding, sucking up the air in the room until she couldn’t breathe.

“I need your help,” she finally said.

He nodded as though he’d expected the words. “I’m listening.”

There were two ways she could play this. One was to be coy, to filter details, to break down in fake tears, asking for forgiveness.

But Empyrean was much better at this game.

So she went with the second option. The unvarnished truth.

She spilled her guts about everything—Rocco using her, that he was an ATF agent, the task force investigating the Shining Light, needing the name of the weapons supplier, the dead informant in Rocco’s arms, his last words about an act of domestic terrorism planned for tomorrow, that the commune would be scapegoats, that their community would suffer, that she would give anything to protect them and Rocco.

“Rocco is going to try to get information from the Devil’s Warriors, but he’s going to get hurt. Please. We have to stop this. Right now. Before it’s too late.”

Her father wasn’t quick to respond. But when he finally opened his mouth, he asked, “Did you sleep with him?”

She hesitated, but he’d know if she lied. “Yes.”

Another slow nod. The look on his face was almost one of relief. “Sometimes an itch needs to be scratched. Not knowing can be more powerful than the act itself. Our imaginations are so fantastical, running wild, filling in the blanks, over and over, in such colorful, lurid ways. While memories, ah, those are designed to fade. In time.”

Her stomach clenched. “Out of everything I just told you, that’s what you’re focused on?”

His grip on her hands tightened. “Do you want to know why I could never pick you to succeed me to lead the commune?”

A dangerous question. But one she needed answered or she’d wonder for the rest of her life, with her imagination filling in the blanks. “Yes.”

“When your mother left us, it was like you had one foot planted here, and one foot always reaching for the outside world as if to follow her. You questioned everything. Questioned me. Stopped truly believing. Her last words to you were ‘the light can illuminate. But it can also blind.’And after that you never looked at me the same way. With reverence in your eyes.”

Mercy’s heart practically stopped. For years, she’d thought her mother had died. She didn’t have memories of her anymore. There were no pictures of her anywhere. She couldn’t even remember what she looked like.

The little voice in her head, warning her, was her mother’s.

“My mother left? Why? Is she still alive?” A flurry of questions stormed through her mind.

“Out of everything you told me, that’s what you’re focused on?” he asked, regurgitating her words, making her feel sick. “I thought time was of the essence to help Rocco. Would you prefer to talk about your mother instead?”

Mercy gritted her teeth, hating this game. Because he was so much better at it than she was.

MARSHALLKNEWWHAThis daughter’s response would be, what she would choose. Or rather who.

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