Page 43 of Cold Mercy

My throat burns, and the pressure behind my eyes is seconds away from breaking.

“I know he was a fucking liar and got what he deserved,” he adds.

Something in me snaps.

Before I even realize I’ve moved, my hand comes up and cracks against his cheek. My palm burns as his head turns with the impact. When he looks back at me, his eyes are empty.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” I choke, tears blurring my vision. My voice cracks on the last word, and I hate that he hears it.

He doesn't touch his face or raise his voice. He just looks at me for one long second, like he’s memorizing exactly who I am in this moment.

Then he turns, grabs his jacket, and walks to the door without looking back.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says quietly. “I got the instructions loud and fucking clear.”

“Oh, fuck you, Reed. And good, now we understand each other.” This is the only thing I push out through my tightening throat.

I face the counter, grip the edge so hard my knuckles shake, and hear the door open. At the worst possible timing, Mrs. Gonzalez walks in, cheerful as ever.

“Oh, Mr. Thomas, it’s good to see you again—”

She doesn’t get to finish, because I turn toward the stairs, tears already running down my face.

“Not today, please”

She freezes, confused, as I rush past. I run upstairs like a child fleeing something they can’t fight. Shutting my bedroom door, I lean against it, sliding down until I sit on the floor, breath shaking, eyes burning. Maybe that’s good. Maybe I deserve that.

CHAPTER 8

THOMAS

“So? That tip I gave you last time. Did you check it out?”

“Thomas, you delivered. They didn’t talk, but they didn’t have many options after we caught them with that quantity of product. We know him for how he likes to take credit for Aurora’s jobs. Now we’re going to try trading his long sentence for real information and a sworn deposition. Where did you get this?”

For once, Grace greets me with something apart from pressure and disappointment. I should feel proud, but really I don’t.

“From Moreau.” I force it out like poison. “One of her contacts tipped her off.”

Grace’s eyebrows pull tight.

“Meaning she’s running her own investigation?”

I groan because I don’t want to talk about her. It irritates me even to hear her name right now.

“Grace, I told you. She’s convinced Aurora killed her ‘obviously innocent’ fiancé, so she’s burning all her money and time trying to crack Aurora on her own. She’s stupidly naive, and she’ll get herself killed. Soon.”

Grace’s eyes widen because she’s never heard me talk like this, and the worst part is…I don’t even believe what I’m saying. I don't think she's naive or stupid, God no. I’m pissed at myself, so I aim the anger at her.

Grace crosses her arms.

“And how is it possible she knows things we don’t?”

“Money, Grace.” I say it like a teenager slamming a door. “Don't you get it?”

I push harder because the anger in me has no other outlet.

“If we already know she’s blind to the reality and clearly wasn’t involved, can we kill this bullshit operation? Move on to something useful? I’d rather patrol a highway than stay stuck in this.”