Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
ACE
Interesting.
The turn of events that had taken our lives by storm in the last twenty-four hours could only be described as that.
Interesting.
I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that my best friend, my dead sister's husband, had married someone else. I hadn’t stopped it. He deserved all the best things in this world, but I couldn’t quite come to terms with this recent change of events.
He had asked me last night over a cigar and whiskey how I felt about the situation, and the only word that came to mind was numb. I was numb to feeling anything at all. I’ve been numb for quite some time, and seeing him kiss another woman didn’t spark an ounce of feeling within me. I just felt… numb.
But even with that numbness looming over me, it didn’t stop the demons from attacking. Didn’t stop the dreams that haunted me. They were sharper this time, my sister's bloodied face more prominent than it had been in the past. I had thought that the memory was fading. I hadn’t seen her in a while. But I guess I was wrong.
Or maybe today just brought it back to the surface, encouraging my mind to play games with me. Still, I felt nothing. Not hate nor fear. Not anguish. Or anger.
Numb.
I probably would forever feel this way.
I pulled out a pan from the cabinet before placing it in the oven to preheat. It was my turn to make breakfast, and though it was earlier than normal, I couldn’t sleep. I started dough for biscuits, which I rarely made, but I knew they were Adam’s favorite. And if I was making Adam’s favorite, I had to make Mercer's favorite potatoes.
I had just placed the biscuits into the hot cast iron pan when Mercer walked into the kitchen. His eyes were half mast, his hair a mess as he stumbled for the coffee bar. “Fresh?”
“Yep. Made it twenty minutes ago.” I grabbed a potholder, so the handle didn’t scorch me, and placed the biscuits in the oven. Then I stirred the sausage. “It’s Columbian roast.”
“I’ll take it,” He mumbled as he poured some into a mug.
It took half the cup, and then topping it off before the man looked human again. “Rough night?”
He glared at me from over his mug. “It’s about to be a rougher day. Is Boss up yet?”
“If he is, he hasn’t surfaced.” I stirred the potatoes. “How do you think this is going to go?”
“Oh.” Mercer rose a brow. “Complete and utter destruction. No doubt. Hands down, a fucking disaster.”
“I see we're on the same page then.” I chuckled.
“How are you? With it all?”
I knew what he was asking. How was I seeing my sister’s husband shackled to another girl? How did I feel knowing he is moving on? Even if it’s reluctant?
Numb.
I feel fucking numb.
“It’s good for him. He’ll see.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.” Mercer’s always intense blue eyes watched me knowingly.
“It’s all I can offer.” I blew out a breath. “It’s all I have.”
He didn’t push me, and for that I was thankful. Instead, he stepped up, stirring the sausage so it didn’t burn. Silently, we worked side by side. Composing a breakfast that could feed an army when it was only four who would eat. I’d offer any leftovers to the guards or something. Maybe make some extra coffee, too. He worked on cutting up fruit; I worked making a rue. It wasn’t until the girl stepped foot in the kitchen that either of us spoke again.
We hadn’t heard her come in. Hadn’t seen her enter. Both of us were stuck in our thoughts, our guards clearly lowered. She could have killed us. Would I blame her? It was shocking she hadn’t attempted it yet.
“Can I-“ She paused and licked her lips. Why did my eyes follow that movement, desperate to take in every bit of the replacement wife? “Can I have some water, please?”
At her request, Mercer dropped what he was doing, nearly falling over himself to oblige. He took a cup from the cupboard and walked over to the fridge. “Did you want cold or room temperature?”
She bit her lip, her green eyes looking huge as they darted between us, judging what type of threat we were. “Cold please?”
Mercer ignored her wariness. “If you’re thirsty, you don’t have to ask. Hungry too. This is your house now. Cold water is on the fridge door. But if you decided you wanted room temperature, there are bottles in the pantry. Or if you prefer bottled water, we could put some of those in the fridge if you like. It’s whatever you prefer.”
God, did he realize this girl was making him ramble like a fucking idiot?
He got the water and stopped in front of her, offering her the glass. She took it, still looking confused and unsure. “Thank you.”
“Yeah. No problem.”
Then he just… stood there. Not backing away, not giving her an inch of space while she brought the glass to her lips, tilted her head and drank every drop. It was mesmerizing how her throat worked. The slow pull and bob as she consumed her water. It took more will than I’d admit to pull my gaze away, back to my task at hand.
I added some cream to my rue to make the gravy while Mercer spoke again. “Are you feeling better?”
She didn’t answer him, only stepped around him to where he was cutting fruit. Standing right next to the knife, with shaky hands, she asked, “Can I have one?”
“You don’t have to ask,” he repeated himself. Fuck, did he not see the weapon so causally laying two inches from her fingers?
Without a word, I reached over, placing my palm on the knife before she could, and pulled it away. Our eyes met and held, before I wrapped my fingers around the weapon and placed it on the other side of my body.
She picked up an orange slice. “I would not stab you. I couldn’t stab everyone on the property to escape.”
“Hm,” I grunted. I see she had thought that through, at least. Smart girl. Now I knew she was indeed thinking of escaping. She just hadn’t thought of the best way to accomplish that yet.
Mercer cleared his throat. “Breakfast is almost done. If you want to take a seat, we’ll have food on the table in no time.”
We would?
Grabbing plates and silverware, he disappeared through the swinging door that led to the dining room to show her where to sit. No doubt he was out there pulling out chairs and helping her sit. Had he forgotten she didn’t belong to him? To us?
She didn’t choose to be here. She didn’t pick us. If she had, her wide eyes wouldn’t look so fearful of the tiniest moves, and she wouldn’t appear slightly green with nausea at our mere presence. A minute passed before he reappeared at my side, looking more chipper than he had earlier.
“You realize she’s married, don’t you?”
He reared back like I slapped him. “What are you trying to imply?”
“Nothing.” I shrugged. He knew exactly what I was hinting at.
“I’m just being nice since no one else in this house seems to be able to. This is her home, whether she likes it or not, and I don’t want her to feel like a prisoner.”
“She is,” I pointed out.
“She won’t be forever.” He picked up the plate of fruit. “He’ll give her freedom.”
“First, he needs to give her the time of day,” I said under my breath as I scooped the homemade sausage gravy into a bowl.
Mercer shot me a glare as he stepped away from the counter, but he didn’t dispute that fact. We both knew it was going to take a hell of a lot of pushing to get Adam to do any sort of communicating with her. Hell, most days it took a hell of a lot of shoving to get him to do anything. But that was about to change. He was in the game again. He had struck against the heads of local organized crimes. He had ruffled feathers and stirred the pot, and there was no way they would lie silent for long.
He'd prepared for this moment. He’d gained men. He’d secured plans. He’d even formed alliances. But would it be enough? Or was he ultimately out to finish what Accardo started… with his life extinguished and his heart no longer beating? He would argue his heart had stopped beating long ago, but even I knew that was a lie. If it had, he wouldn’t have hung on so long for us, would have ended it before now.
I grabbed the plate of biscuits and the bowl of gravy just as Mercer reentered. “Grab the bacon and potatoes, will ya?”
“On it.” He saluted me as he passed, and I waited for him to get the rest of the food, making sure he grabbed it all, before I ventured into the dining room.
When I stepped through the door, the coldness slammed into me as I faced Adam, his eyes locked on the girl, the silence so thick and heavy, so fucking suffocating, I couldn’t move. I froze, Mercer nearly dropping the food as he slammed into my back. Still, I didn’t enter, waiting for the signal to let me know that the room would not combust.
“I see you’re up.” Adam finally broke the stare off. His words were cold, lacking any feeling. But how could that be, when even I, who feels absolutely nothing in this world, felt the sudden urge to step forward and protect those green eyes from his wrath?
“I see yesterday wasn’t just a nightmare,” she whispered, and I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be heard, but we heard it all the same.
“It appears, unfortunately, it’s not, Mrs.…”
“Crusiaux,” she supplied when he didn’t finish his thoughts, as if he struggled to process them.
“Ferrari,” he corrected, and it didn’t seem right. His last name against the innocence of her eyes, but I guess things didn’t have to be right to be true.
She looked down at the empty plate in front of her, her hands wrung tight. Her voice was the tiniest of whispers that somehow seemed like the loudest of words. “Ferrari. Another name I shouldn’t belong to.”