Chapter 28
Zane
I should have known not to trust Mercy and Kane. They were all too eager to get me out of the house—church—whatever you want to call it, citing spending time together and getting fresh air as their reasons for dragging me out into the sunlight.
The reality is that they’ve been scheming to get me to see a therapist.
“Grandma Star is paying,” Mercy murmurs softly, like anyone in the lobby is actually listening to us. “And she said you can’t refuse!”
“That’s even worse,” I groan, rubbing my aching head.
The throbbing behind my eyes has been killer ever since we walked into the building.
Huge paneled windows give us a terrifying view of the busy streets below, and I have to tear my gaze away or risk being blinded.
Whoever did the tint job needs to be fucking eviscerated.
I’m not having a good fucking day.
“I can’t take money from your grandmother.” She’s old and feeble and probably gonna die soon; she should spend it on whatever is gonna make her happy, not on getting me to see a shrink.
“She insisted,” Mercy huffs, grabbing my hand. “Just sit still and wait until they call you.” She fiddles with my fingers, pinching the webbing between them and running her thumb along the middle of my palm.
“What are you doing?”
Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink. “I’m nervous. Doctors offices—” She inhales sharply as a door opens down the hall. “They’re not always happy places, okay?”
“How reassuring.”
Blanching, she immediately backpedals. “I mean, you’re going to be fine. Dr. Schwartz is fantastic. She’s been working with me since I was a kid.”
How long has Mercy been attending sessions?
Frowning, I dig a little deeper to see what I can learn. “What do you talk about during your sessions?”
Mercy scoffs and pinches my thumb. “That’s confidential.”
“Mhm. It would make me feel more at ease, though, seeing as how you tricked me into coming. I’m sure Dr. Schwartz would love to hear about how you and your grandmother forced a man into this appointment.
She’s going to love analyzing that little detail about your life.
I’m sure it’ll be an extensive talk the next time you see her—”
Growling with frustration, Mercy clamps her hand over my mouth.
“We talk about a lot of things, okay! My parents, my nightmares, what drives me, and yes, even my relationships. But I’ve been a little busy, so I haven’t had the chance to tell her about you.
This is the perfect opportunity for you to get an outside perspective on your life and figure out what truly motivates you—because pushing yourself through life off of the fear that Kane’s going to leave you if you’re suddenly not good enough anymore?
” She blows out a breath. “That’s not gonna last, Zane.
You need another reason to live, and I bet Dr. Schwartz can help you see what’s inside your heart; what you really want out of life. ”
I gently grab her wrist and pull her hand into my lap. “You know, Mercy, it almost sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
She smiles wryly. “I know a thing or two.”
One of the staff calls my name to the front. “Hunter!”
Mercy’s way too enthusiastic as she jumps up and drags me with her to the counter. “Yes, he’s here. We’re ready.”
“You can wait here, ma’am. Come with me, sir. Dr. Schwartz is waiting.”
I watch Mercy’s face fall and sigh. “You can borrow my phone,” I tell her, pulling my cell from my pocket and placing it in her hand.
“Text Kane if you want, but don’t download any games.
” A laugh catches in my chest. “Unless it’s solitaire.
We can see who gets the highest score.” I drop her hand and walk away.
Having an impromptu appointment sucks, but Granny’s been pretty okay company. I’d hate for her to think I’m not appreciative of what she and Mercy’s dad have been doing for us.
Shit, I’m going soft.
The staffer opens the door to Dr. Schwartz’ office and closes it behind me.
There’s no one sitting at the obnoxious brown desk taking up a quarter the room, and the zen garden resting in front of the chair I’m supposed to take hasn’t even been raked clean.
Frowning, I shove my hands in my pockets and glance around the room.
Kind of unprofessional to say that she’s waiting and then find out that she’s not even here.
The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I spin on my heel just in time for a man in a suit to jump me. He slams his palm over my mouth and pushes me until I stumble onto the edge of the desk. Lifting my foot, I slam it into his crotch, and he wheezes, doubling over in pain.
“You piece of shit, it’s me!”
I hold a ballpoint pen like a knife. “Who the fuck—” I stop short as I realize who the idiot holding his ballsack is.
Samson goddamn Wright.
Wearing a navy suit and expensive cufflinks, he looks like a filthy rich asshole I’d stay the fuck away from if I had a choice.
But there’s a nervousness about him that I’m not used to seeing; he’s jittery, quick to fidget, and his eyes—bloodshot to hell and back.
As if hearing my thoughts, he pulls out eye drops and puts a few in each of his eyes.
“You look like hell, Sam.”
He laughs darkly and rakes his fingertips over the fresh fade along the side of his head. “I’ve felt better, thanks.” Giving me a once-over, he clenches his jaw. “I know why I look like shit, but why do you look like you’ve just come out of hibernation?”
I scratch the patch of facial hair on my cheek. “It’s not that bad.” I bet I’ve looked worse. The sweatpants probably don’t help, though.
Sighing, Sam drags one of the chairs away from Dr. Shwartz’ desk and sits down. “Look, I called in a lot of favors to make this happen. We don’t have much time.” He glances at the fancy watch on his wrist. “My dad will notice that I’m gone once he’s done on the shitter.”
I roll my eyes. “Paint a picture, why don’t you.”
“I gave him laxatives.” Sam bounces his knee and stares at me for a second, but his attention darts around the room, either too nervous or too hyped up on some kind of drug to sit still. “I had to rearrange our meetings, too, but that’s not the point. How’s Mercy?”
Keeping a straight face, I shrug. “Why don’t you ask her yourself? She’s right outside.”
Sam’s gaze flicks to the door. “I can’t.”
“You should.” I walk over to Sam and get in his face. “She can’t sleep because of you.”
Guilt cuts across his features. “I can’t, Zane.”
“Why the hell not?” My anger flares hot as I pace in front of him. “What’s stopping you? Daddy?” I scoff aloud. “Didn’t know he had his dick up your ass.”
Taking a breath, Sam collects himself. It’s like watching a curtain fall over a stage, distracting viewers with its soft velvet that makes the theater look opulent when in reality, there are rats living in the walls and mold hiding beneath the floorboards.
I’ve been watching Sam ever since I hooked into his dad’s camera feeds; he’s risking burn out by running so hard from one project to the next.
“What does he even have you doing?”
Sam shakes his head, dismissing my question. “I need to know if Vinny’s having their annual Christmas party.”
I damn near throw a paperweight at him. “Why the hell does that matter?”
“Because if he is, I can convince my father to attend. He loves to gloat, and it’s the perfect opportunity for him to examine how much damage he’s done.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere near your fucking father.” My arm twinges at the memory of his heel on my broken bone. “I’ll kill him.”
Sam’s eyes brighten. “Good. That’s the point.” He stands and steps in front of me, cutting off my erratic pacing. “I want you and Kane to get rid of him. You’re good at this kind of thing, aren’t you?”
My heart races. Killing Samuel Wright, although gratifying as fuck, isn’t a walk in the park.
“I’ll never be able to get close to him.
” What’s more, my kills with Kane were planned down to the minute.
We spent months setting everything up for a perfect finale.
We don’t have that kind of time with Samuel.
If he attends the party, he’ll be on our doorstep within weeks.
“You will,” Sam insists, grabbing my arm. “I promise. I’ll create an opening. The party is the perfect place.” He releases me and fidgets with his watch band, tugging on the end repeatedly. Raw, red skin peeks out from beneath. “He doesn’t usually bring security. Thanksgiving was an anomaly.”
“I’m not going against a group of armed guards.”
Sam frowns. “He won’t have any.”
I cross my arms. “You’ve got to be joking. He won’t come anywhere near us after that stunt he pulled. He knows we’ll be out for blood”
“That’s the thing—he’s overconfident. It’s his biggest flaw.”
If I tell Kane that Sam’s on board for murder, my boyfriend will be a bundle of incessant energy as we count down the days.
It’ll be unbearable. But, I can’t pull this off on my own.
I need his crazy ideas to come up with a solid plan.
So how can I tell him without getting him too riled up?
Or, worse yet, without Mercy finding out?
I doubt she’d be willing to ruin her family’s party—the one good tradition they have going for them—for a little throat-slitting.
The bigger question is why does Sam want to kill his father all of a sudden?
“What’s in it for you?” I narrow my eyes as Sam swallows.
“Inheritance? If the cops sniff around, you’ll be suspect number one.
Golden child finally reunites with his rich bitch father, only for dad to keel over within a month.
It’s suspicious as hell, Sam, and not the kind of court battle you want to go through. ”
“I don’t care about the money!” Tearing his watch off, he throws it to the ground and scratches the irritated skin on his wrist. “All I care about is Mercy. How is she?”
I repeat myself from earlier. “See for yourself. Go talk to her.”
“I can’t,” Sam grimaces, grinding his jaw. “I already told you.”