Chapter 22
Mercer Said No
JULIETTE
Daniel didn’t let me finish packing.
He said it twice in the exact tone of a man under strict orders not to negotiate. The suitcase had been open since dawn, half-packed before Nick’s last order kept me away from the panels, the deck, and anything that looked like unnecessary movement.
The cruiser was already running when I stepped onto the deck, my boots barely laced, my suitcase still open on the luggage rack inside.
"Ma'am, we need to move."
"My bag—"
"Will be collected. Please."
The please had edges. I got in.
The cruiser swung hard onto the western track, tires spitting red grit into the air behind us. My hair was still loose, one hand pinning it off my face while the other braced against the grab handle. The canvas panels of my suite disappeared in the side mirror, swallowed by dust and morning light.
Excellent. Evacuated before coffee in yesterday’s linen shirt over a sleep tank, boots barely laced, hair still pretending gravity was optional. No espresso. No luggage. The revolution had officially begun.
Daniel’s radio crackled with short codes—enough to raise my pulse, not enough to give answers. His responses were clipped, efficient, and offered me nothing.
From what little I could piece together, I was not the first person they’d moved. The lodge guests were already being held at the main building. Anyone still out in the ridge suites was being collected by whichever ranger could reach them fastest.
Twice, I tried to pry loose a detail. Twice, he gave me the verbal equivalent of a locked door.
"How many men?"
"Not confirmed."
"That means at least two."
His eyes flicked to the mirror.
Interesting. Not a denial.
"Are they still inside the fence?"
"We're treating it that way."
"That means yes."
"That means we're treating it that way, ma'am."
Nick’s fingerprints were all over that answer.
The scrub blurred past the window. The sun angle put half the track in shadow, and the dust behind us hung too long in the still air. Daniel’s hand stayed close to the radio.
The veranda was already crowded, most of the guests clustered near the doors in various states of agitation.
A few half-loaded luggage carts sat abandoned near the entrance, tagged bags stacked beside them while everyone waited for permission to move.
The departure board still hung by the main desk, my name visible in careful script beside a time that had already passed.
My name was still there. My exit was not.
Daniel pulled up to the entrance and cut the engine. "Stay with the group, ma'am. Someone will update you when we know more."
I stepped out before he could open my door. Heat rose off the gravel and climbed around my boots. My tank stuck between my shoulder blades. The day had barely started and was already taking liberties.
The CEOs had been denied movement for thirty-one minutes and were already one oat milk shortage away from civil unrest.
Cufflink was mid-sentence when I reached the veranda, his face flushed with the particular shade of outrage that came from being told no by people who didn't care about his net worth.
Sarah, the lodge manager, stood near the entrance with her tablet clutched against her ribs, her smile too tight to survive another question.
"—doesn't matter what Mercer says!" Cufflink’s voice was reaching a pitch that usually preceded a lawsuit. "He isn't the owner. He's a glorified gatekeeper. Sarah, I don't care about 'sweeps.' I care about the fact that I’m still standing on this porch thirty minutes after my departure time."
Sarah’s smile held. Her knuckles didn’t. "Mr. Miles, the Ranger's orders are—"
"Nick already gave you his answer, Victor." I didn’t raise my voice. Sarah’s shoulders lowered two inches. "And unless you’ve picked up a tracking certification in the last five minutes, your opinion on the road’s safety is irrelevant."
He turned on me, his complexion moving from offended to medically concerning. “I don’t know what kind of…special arrangement you have with the help, Wilder, but don’t think for a second that gives you the right to dictate my schedule. Get Mercer. Now.”
“Nick is currently keeping you from getting shot by poachers on the way to the strip,” I said, stepping into his space. “I suggest you let him work.”
I crossed to the coffee station and poured my own cup. The liquid was too hot and slightly bitter, but I held it anyway and sorted the room into categories.
Empty wicker chairs on the veranda. No Nick in the lounge. Through the glass, rangers moved between vehicles in the service yard, radios up, shoulders squared.
Sarah had both hands locked around the tablet now. Cufflink drew breath for another attack, but I didn’t give him the room.
I set my coffee down.
"Sarah." My voice carried cleanly across the veranda, cutting through his monologue. "Who needs medication from their luggage?"
Sarah blinked. "I—sorry?"
"Medication. Prescriptions. Anything time-sensitive."
Her fingers moved over the tablet. "I... I'm not sure. We didn't—"
"Check. Start there." I turned to the room, pinning Cufflink with a look that usually ended board meetings. "Victor, you have the 14:30 to London. Graham, you’re Cape Town at 15:00. Sarah already has your tail numbers. Making her repeat them won't clear the road any faster."
He adjusted his sleeve with unnecessary force, looked at me, then at the half-empty coffee cup in my hand, and finally at Graham. He looked like he wanted to argue, but Graham cleared his throat, looking at his shoes.
“The connection is tight, Juliette,” Graham muttered, eyes on his shoes. “That’s all.”
"I know it is. Which is why Sarah is prioritizing the road sweep based on your departure times, not your temper."
I looked at Naomi, who shook her head. "My return is flexible."
Owen had stopped pacing. "I was supposed to fly out with Victor."
"Then you're in the same category." I turned back to Sarah.
"Two confirmed international departures.
Both afternoon. Both requiring road access to the airstrip within—" I checked my watch.
"—four hours maximum to allow for delays.
That's your priority timeline. Everything else is preference, not emergency. "
Sarah's posture shifted. The tablet came down from its defensive position. "I can work with that."
"Good. Coffee and food in the lounge. Keep people comfortable. And get someone from the kitchen to confirm dietary needs—if anyone has restrictions that require specific items from their rooms, that's the second call."
Cufflink stepped forward. "Now wait just a—"
"Victor." I didn't raise my voice. "You have a board meeting in London. I have an acquisition closing in Florida. Neither of us is going to get there faster by making Sarah's job harder."
No one rushed to help him.
Alina’s mouth curved slightly. Naomi wisely kept her applause internal.
The asshole stepped back like he was doing the veranda a favor. “Fine. But I want updates. Regular updates.”
"I'm sure Sarah will provide them." I picked up my coffee. "In the meantime, the lounge has better chairs and significantly less direct sunlight."
The group obeyed, which they would have hated if they’d noticed. Sarah caught my eye as she passed, her expression somewhere between gratitude and bewilderment.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"Don't thank me yet. The timeline is real. Your road access is the bottleneck."
She nodded and disappeared into the lounge.
I stayed on the veranda, my coffee cooling in my hands, watching the service yard.
Nick appeared from behind the gatehouse, radio in hand, his body still except for the small shift of his thumb against the receiver. He spoke briefly with Elias, gestured toward the fence line, then turned toward the lodge.
His stride didn't change when he saw me. His expression didn't soften. But his eyes found mine across the gravel, and for one second, the hard line of his mouth loosened. He looked like he was holding the morning together with discipline, muscle memory, and very little sleep.
He stopped at the edge of the veranda, one hand resting on the rail. "You made it."
"Daniel was persuasive."
"He's good at that." He checked me once, head to boots, fast enough to pretend it was professional.
"I'm undercaffeinated and improperly dressed, but otherwise functional."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Better than most of them."
"Low bar."
"Always is."
A ranger approached with a clipboard. Nick took it without looking away from me, signed the bottom, and handed it back. The ranger disappeared.
"Road?" I asked.
"Still closed. We're sweeping the high ground. Should have clearance within the hour."
"Victor is going to need updates."
"The idiot is going to need to wait."
"I told Sarah to manage him."
Something shifted in his expression. Not quite a smile, but close. “You got them moving.”
"I gave them categories. People like categories."
"You gave them you." He leaned forward, his voice dropping low enough that only I could hear. “You took a room full of noise and made it operational. In under three minutes.”
My grip tightened on the coffee cup. "It's what I do."
"I know." His eyes held mine. "That's not the part that surprised me."
Before I could respond, his radio crackled. He stepped back, lifting it to his ear, his attention already shifting to whatever report was coming through.
His jaw tightened. His hand flexed once against the railing before going still. When he lowered the radio, Nick Mercer was back.
"Tracks led back to the boundary," he said. "They're gone. Road opens in twenty."
"Good."
"Your flight—"
"Is being rescheduled." I set the coffee cup on the railing. I called the office while Daniel was driving.”
Nick's eyes narrowed slightly. "You delegated."
"I delegated."
The word sat between us, heavier than it should have been.
A week ago, I would have been on the phone with three different people, managing every detail from a moving vehicle.
Now I was standing on a veranda in yesterday’s clothes, watching a man I hadn’t planned for handle a crisis I couldn’t control.
The company hadn’t collapsed.
Nick’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and his shoulders shifted by a fraction. The perimeter lost him for half a second.
Sofia.
His thumb hovered over the screen, one heartbeat of hesitation before he slid the phone back into his pocket. His eyes cut to mine. “Later.”
"I didn't ask."
"You were going to."
I lifted my chin. "Does later work with fourteen-year-olds?"
His eyes dropped to the gravel before he answered. "She hates when I say I'll sort it."
"Why?"
"Says that's what adults say when they don't know how."
My chest tightened. "She sounds accurate."
"She's not wrong."
Across the yard, Elias was waving for Nick's attention. The sweep teams were regrouping. Whatever this was, it had run out of privacy.
"I should—" Nick started.
“Go.” I stepped back. “I’ll be here.”
He held my gaze for one more second. Then he turned toward the service yard, his stride lengthening before he reached the gravel.
His shoulders disappeared beyond the gatehouse, and the coffee cooled untouched in my hand.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Summer's name flashed across the screen.
"Jules?" Her voice was sharp with concern. "What's the status? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Everything's contained."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure." I paused, watching Nick disappear behind the gatehouse. "Sum, I need you to handle the Reyes call this afternoon. Full authority. Don't wait for my sign-off."
Silence stretched on the other end.
“I’m sorry. Did you say full authority without developing a rash?”
"Don't get sentimental. I'm still judging the formatting."
Summer laughed, short and surprised. "Fine. I'll handle it. But you owe me an explanation when you land."
"Deal."
I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. The company held.
So did I.