Page 72 of Wyoming Cowboy Undercover

Wearing the same clothes that she’d arrived in, blue jeans, a T-shirt and gray sweater, Mercy stood. She steeled herself to face her father.

No matter what he said, she was done with the Shining Light. She was leaving after Rocco’s mission. Today. As one of the fallen.

She’d deal with the implications to her soul once she was free of Empyrean.

The door swung open, and Alex stepped inside.

Her heart clutched.

He shut it behind him, bent down and shoved a door stop tight under the lip.

Mercy’s blood turned to ice. In the time it would take for her to remove the wedge and open the door to get out, she would be at a distinct disadvantage, and he would be on top of her. “Why aren’t you locked up?”

Alex pressed a palm to the door and leaned against it. His eyes had a weird, glassy look to them. “I atoned and father released me,” he said, his words slurring. Like he was drunk. Or high.

Which was odd. Alex didn’t drink and he didn’t do drugs. He only did ayahuasca once for his shedding ceremony.

“How did you get the key to get in here?”

He grinned. “I have my ways.”

Alex must have coerced Shawn to give him the key.

Biting her lip, she forced herself not to panic. “What’s wrong with you?”

He chuckled. “There are so many things, I don’t know where to start.”

Alex was on something. But why?

“When you look at me, what do you see?” he asked. “Be honest.”

A pathetic, petty, green-eyed... “A monster.”

He gave a sad laugh that tugged at her heartstrings, despite telling herself not to care about him. “You’ll never marry me, will you? Not after the chili.”

Trying to kill her was the point of no return. Not what put her off as a potential partner. He was delusional. Deranged.

Squeezing her eyes shut for the span of a breath, she hoped he didn’t have a gun tucked at the small of his back with plans to put a bullet in her head.

“Why would you want to marry me when you know I don’t love you?” she asked.

“Because I love you enough for both of us. I’d do anything for you.”

She looked at him. “Even let me go?”

Smirking, he wagged a finger. “True love requires conviction.” He shoved off the door and stalked toward her.

“True love requires compassion. Kindness. Neither of which you showed me when you tried to kill me.” She stood her ground, clenching her hands into fists.

He grasped a handful of her hair, gently, and put the strands to his nose. Inhaled deeply. “I always thought we’d save ourselves for our wedding night. But then you gave away your purity to that man. I feel cheated.”

Her skin crawled.

“How about you give me a taste of what you gave him, huh?” He leaned in to kiss her.

She wasn’t a violent person. She wasn’t even a fighter. But Rocco had taught her that raw, desperate fury in a strong body should never be discounted.

Because it was powerful.

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