Chapter 15
Kane
Spending an entire day pretending that everything is normal isn’t my fucking jam. It royally sucks. Whoever decided that lying made a person stronger was an idiot, because I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin.
It doesn’t help that Zane knows something is up.
“You’re avoiding me,” he says out of the blue, flicking his gaze up from the ice pack in my hand.
I place the pack over his nose as gently as possible.
“I’m not.” Sam got a few hits in while I was waking Mercy from her nightmare, the fucking prick.
Yeah, Zane isn’t faultless, but we’re learning to use our words around here, not our fists.
Allegedly, anyway. The learning curve is pretty steep. “Why did he punch you?”
A rare smile makes Zane wince. “I taunted him. Told him that I’d touched Mercy.”
I press the ice pack down a little harder. Mercy left that tiny detail out of her report about last night. “Did you?”
Zane blows out a breath. “Hard to say. I think I tried to.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I was wasted, Kane. I’m trying to forget.”
“Think harder.”
Pulling my hand away from his face, Zane frowns. “Why do you care? Isn’t this what you’ve been talking about? Sharing?”
Technically, yes, but… “I wish you would have told me that you were interested.”
His answer is immediate. “I’m not.”
Yeah, okay. Rather than press the issue, I move on. “They’re gonna go grab lunch. Groceries and shit. So we have the house to ourselves if you wanna…” I brush my knuckles down his arm. “Hang out.”
“You’re letting them leave?” Zane narrows his eyes at me. “Sam’s gonna run away with her.”
“Shouldn’t bother you,” I murmur. “You’ve wanted her gone since day one.” I run a hand through my hair and drop the ice pack onto the kitchen table. “But they’ll be back.” With a grin, I punch Zane’s arm. “I begged her to get me orange chicken.”
Along with rope, zip ties, and whatever else they can get their hands on at the one-stop shop next to the Chinese restaurant.
There aren’t a lot of stores this far up the mountain, but they’ll manage, and then they’ll come skipping right back.
After that taste of how good things can be for us when we work together, neither of them will be able to resist the possibility of more.
I just need to get Zane in on it, too. He’s close. Closer than I thought, if he’s drunkenly visiting her in the middle of the night. Sure, part of that could be murderous intent, but it’ll make everything that much hotter between them.
I’m almost jealous. She’s like putty in my hands, but in Zane’s—
She’ll fucking melt.
Drugging Zane doesn’t feel right, but he started it. Crush up a few sleeping pills, and it’s surprisingly effective. Between the two of us, we go through half the bottle in the cabinet.
“He should be out for a few hours?” I turn the bottle over in my hand to check the label.
“Maybe?” I don’t actually know how this shit works, but if he can slip pills into Mercy’s pasta—that Sam and I happened to chow down on after the fact—I can put a few in his wonton soup. Tit for tat. He shouldn’t be too mad.
It’s the bondage that’s gonna piss him off.
“Okay,” I breathe, carefully setting my boyfriend down in an armchair we moved into the master bedroom. “Hand me the rope.” Once I’m satisfied with my knot work, I brush his hair off his forehead and press a kiss there. Even unconscious, he’s really fucking pretty.
The next part of my plan is harder to pull off. “Sam.” Curling my finger, I beckon him closer. “Come here.”
As expected, he hesitates. But he’s moving slower than usual on account of the sleeping pills I slipped into his lo mein.
Soup was easy—noodles were harder. When he stumbles, I throw an uppercut that hits him square in the jaw.
Pain radiates down my arm, and I shake it out. “Damn, you’ve got a thick skull.”
“Kane!” Mercy pushes between us. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Payback, sweetheart.” The concern on her face is so adorable. “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna tie him up. He’ll be fine.”
“We’re not interrogating Sam!”
Sidestepping around Mercy, I hum in agreement. “We’re not, but I don’t want him getting any ideas while Zane can’t fight back.” I swipe the knife that Sam not-so-discreetly keeps in his pocket and toss it to Mercy. “Hold onto that for me.”
Tying Sam up is easier after I get a few more hits in and he staggers to the ground. I wrap the canopy curtains hanging over the bed around his wrists and use a few zip ties to secure them to the headboard. It’s not great work, but it’s good enough. Slapping Sam’s cheek, I grin.
This is gonna be fun.
My blood pumps hot through my veins as my plan comes to fruition before my eyes.
Everything falls into place perfectly, and I have to stifle a groan at how goddamn exhilarating it feels.
Is this why Zane’s always planning shit?
Because he gets off on it? I might understand the appeal if this electrifying thrill is his normal.
I feel one thousand percent alive… and we’re just getting started.
Now that Sam’s fully awake and aware, however, he’s aggravated to hell.
“I will kill you,” Sam hisses, flexing his muscles as he pulls at the restraints I lovingly tied around his wrists, “if she gets hurt.” The curtains on the bed wouldn’t hold him if I hadn’t double-looped them and added a few zip ties to the mix, but it’s sturdy enough for at least an hour.
Plenty of time for Mercy to get every tantalizing question out of her system.
Still. My palms sweat as I test Zane’s binds for a third time and avoid eye contact.
I’m breaking his trust to ensure we get answers.
She’s the only one who can interrogate him the way I can’t.
It’s silly, in a way. I’ve killed dozens of people—lovers, friends, genuinely nice people—and the one man I need to come clean is the one I don’t trust myself to touch.
I’d never forgive myself if I hurt him.
Letting Mercy handle the tough questions is selfish, but if I look Zane in the eyes and he lies to my face, I don’t know how I’ll react. There’s only so much I can forgive, and we’re toeing a line that I don’t want to cross. Mercy shouldn’t have that kind of hold on my heart, but… here we are.
In the middle of this fucking mess.
I debate standing nearby while Mercy questions Zane, but in the end, I can’t stomach the betrayal.
I claim the big, empty space on the bed beside Sam.
He glances over at me with disgust before turning his attention back to the other side of the room.
The four of us are silent as Mercy decides what she wants to do.
The knife I stole from Sam hangs limply from her fingertips.
I’m not so sure she’s going to go through with the interrogation.
I should walk over there and encourage her, whisper promises in her ear about how everything is going to be okay and no one will be mad at her no matter what she says or does—not even Sam, despite how badly he’s trembling. Jesus, the whole bed is shaking.
Clearing my throat, I extend a flimsy olive branch. “You okay?”
Sam’s muscles tense, and the bed creaks as he pulls at his bindings. “You can’t seriously be asking me that.” He laughs, a short bark of a sound that makes Mercy jump. Quieting down, he watches closely as she takes a small, tentative step towards Zane.
He can’t touch her, but she can touch him. It’s perfect for bridging the divide between them. Zane may not realize it, but he craves physical intimacy like a cat, feigning independence while secretly envious of the golden retriever that gets all the attention.
Cautiously, she brushes the back of her knuckles against the swollen flesh over his jaw. “Did Sam do this?”
Zane doesn’t reply, glaring a hole into the floor so that he doesn’t have to look at her or at me.
I know that he’s fuming about being tied up and defenseless, but if I asked him directly about what happened the other night, I know he would lie.
If not outright, then by omission. Or, he’d distract me with his body the same way I used to keep my targets from asking too many questions about me.
It’s an S-class move for manipulative bastards, but that’s what Zane is.
The most manipulative bastard I know.
He doesn’t seem like it when you first look at him. Quiet. Pretty. Cautious. To outsiders, he appears weak-bodied and meek, but to me, he’s the strongest person in the world. He’s the backbone of our entire illegal operation, keeping me in line while somehow sane and happy at the same time.
I don’t think I’ve thanked him for all the years he’s given me.
Sam exhales slowly and stops trying to break free. He taps his heel against the bedspread, antsy like Zane has been all day.
“It must be frustrating,” I mutter, taking a deep breath. “Watching your girl fall for someone else.”
His foot stops moving. “She’s not falling for anyone.”
We watch in silence as she links her arms around the back of Zane’s neck and hooks her thighs over his, straddling him like a lover.
“Does that look like a woman resisting her heart?” Shaking my head, I can’t stop a smile from curving on my lips. “She might not love him, but she feels for him in a way that you and I can’t understand. I see him as my other half, and you—”
Sam’s jaw clenches.
“You can’t see past your possession kink to consider how anyone else feels.
Not even her.” I draw in a breath as the woman in question nuzzles Zane’s cheek, likely whispering something that Sam and I are too far away to hear.
“But there are other people involved in this. Me. You. Zane. We’re like this…
” I struggle to find the right analogy and fall silent.
“Mercy’s like the night sky.”
For once, I agree with Sam.