by JB Salsbury
He hums and traces my bare arm, his fingertips raising goose bumps on my skin. “Things are going to get better. Julian is making a miraculous recovery—he swears you saved his life.”
I shake my head. “I have no more power to save anyone’s life than you do, Milo.” If I did, I’d save my own.
“He believes in you.” A couple beats of silence. “I believe in you too.”
“Don’t. I’m nothing. Lying to yourself doesn’t change the facts.”
He rolls onto his side, and I lose the warmth of his torso but gain his eyes as he looks at me, his eyebrows angry slashes. “Talk to me.”
“I am. I thought that’s what we were doing.”
“You’re different. Why?”
I tuck my legs up and pull the comforter under my chin. Even in the dim light with nothing to illuminate us but the moon, his eyes follow every movement. “What?”
He stares at my hands clasped protectively in the bedding at my neck. “You’re hiding something.”
I roll my eyes to keep from having to look at him. “I am not.” I am. Please don’t make me tell you. You’ll hate me.
“You think I can’t read you?”
No, I know you can, which is why I need to leave. “I should go back to my room before Chris and Laura wake up.” I sit up and use my arms to cover my nakedness as I search for my clothes.
His warm hand slips around my middle, long, powerful fingers splayed at my stomach, and his lips find my neck. “Hey . . . slow down. Let me help.” He covers my neck and shoulders in worshipful kisses. “Everything is going to be okay. I was going to surprise you, but I can see you’re in need of some good news, so . . .”
My eyelids flutter as the sensation of his touch unravels me.
“I found an apartment in Long Beach.” His lips brush against my skin as he speaks. “It’s only one bedroom, but there’s a small view of the ocean.” His fingers trace the tattoo on my back. “I thought we could go check it out today. I can put down a deposit, and we can move in as soon as next week.”
We.
My heart shatters.
“I’ve got a job interview at a garage down there. I have enough saved that I could float us for a few months until you decide what you want to do. I figure now that you no longer need to go to high school, you might want to go to college, take some art classes.”
The first tear builds and falls in a stream down my cheek.
“We could take the boys on the weekends . . .” His lips are still on my neck. “Mercy? What do you think? It’s everything we talked about. Think how amazing it’ll be. You and me alone, together, falling asleep to the sound of the ocean—”
“I can’t go with you.” I grind my teeth to keep the words back. I need him to stop talking, to stop painting a picture of an impossible future.
“Why the fuck not?”
His fierce curse, so close to my skin, makes me shudder. I can’t tell him why not. If I did, he’d never let me go, and we’d all be hunted and killed.
“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” I hop up and grab the first shirt I find, realizing once I slip it over my head and am enveloped in his scent that it’s Milo’s. Maybe my captor will allow me to keep it, and I’ll use it to keep Milo’s memory close.
“That’s exactly what you meant.” He’s propped up on his elbow, the moon casting his lean body in silver, making him look menacing. “You think that I’m just going to walk away? Or let you walk away?”
I snag my shorts from the foot of the bed and pull them on. “It’s my choice. Not yours.”
“What the fuck has gotten into you?” He swings his legs off the side of the bed. “Mercy,” he growls. “I swear to God if you don’t start talking, I’ll tie you to the bed until you do—”
“It’s fine, Milo. I’m fine.” I suck in a breath, and my lungs burn with emotion, but I have to stay calm. I cross to him, stand between his legs, and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I just got out of the facility yesterday, and I’ve been asked so many questions. I just need a little more time to think things through.”
His arms finally come around me and squeeze me tightly. “How much time?”
How I wish I could soothe the pain I hear in his voice. “I love you, Milo. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Then why does this feel like goodbye?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and pull back enough to reach his lips in a slow, soft kiss. “No matter what happens, no matter what comes at us, I will always love you.”
His eyes search mine.
“I really better go before Laura and Chris wake up.”
He doesn’t say anything but just nods, kisses me one last time, and then lets me walk away.
I have to imagine a world without Emilio Vega, his beautiful smile gone forever in death, to get myself to walk to the door. I envision Miguel and Julien’s lifeless bodies in order to turn the handle, and I picture Chris and Laura asleep in their beds with their throats slit to keep my feet moving toward the main house, but it works.
I check the time on the microwave: 12:37.
Just a few more hours, and it all ends.
Milo
I STARE AT the door Mercy just walked out of, wondering if I should chase after her or if it’s better to give her some space.
My body says go get her, but my heart knows she’s right. She’s been through a lot in the last ten days, and now she’s faced with some big decisions. Putting pressure on her will only make her choices harder.
I slip on a pair of workout shorts and a T-shirt and grab my running shoes, figuring I might as well try to exhaust myself, because at this rate, I’m too hyped up to fall back asleep.
Pausing with my socks in my hand, I think about what Mercy said and how quickly her mood changed between earlier in the evening and now. I rake over everything I said and can’t figure out what I did to upset her. I replay the feeling of her hands on me and mine on her and how her eyes lit with an intensity I haven’t seen from her before.
I seem to be stuck in thought for about five minutes, but when I look at the clock, I realize that almost an hour has passed. I finish getting my shoes and socks on and take one peek out my window toward Mercy’s room. I can visualize her tucked warmly into her bed, and I hope she’s dreaming about our time together. I wonder if, when she left, she instantly missed me the way I did her.
I tell myself that she’ll come around, that she just needs time to sort out her thoughts. After all, we love each other. How could she turn her back on that—
“What the fuck?” I squint my eyes, and even though it’s dark, I see movement through her bedroom window. “What is she doing?”
The shadow behind the glass continues to move, and I run out of reasons why Mercy would still be up. Is she upset? Unable to let go of the feeling that something is bothering her, I head out toward the main house. It’s quiet when I step inside and tiptoe slowly down the hallway toward Mercy’s room. Her door is closed, but I know it has no lock—that’s a firm rule of Chris and Laura’s. I don’t knock because I don’t want to wake anyone but also because, after what Mercy and I did for hours in my bed, I feel like no barriers are left between us.
When I get one foot in the room, she whirls around in a flash of white hair.
“It’s okay.” I hold my hands up. “It’s me.” I don’t know how well she can see me in the dim light, and I don’t want her more scared than she already is. “I saw movement behind your window, and I worried that you were upset about earlier.”
“I’m fine.” Her hands are locked behind her back, and she seems to be blocking something on the bed with her body.
“What are you doing?”
She sidesteps to block it further. “Nothing.”
“What’s that?” I motion toward what I now see is her backpack. “You’re packing.” A tickle of anxiety flickers in my chest while my muscles tighten.
“It’s not what you think.”
I step cl
ose and pick up a few pieces of fabric, realizing it’s the shirt-dress we bought together, along with some other new clothes and the T-shirt of mine she left in earlier. “I can’t fucking believe it,” I mumble. “You’re sneaking off in the middle of the night?”
“I’m not, I—”
“Where the fuck do you plan to go with this?” I shove the clothes back into the bag.
“Milo, please. You’ll wake—”
“You think I give a shit?”
She slaps her hand over my mouth, her eyes wide with panic. “Shh . . . please. I’ll explain, but you have to be quiet.”
God, I’m sick to my stomach at the combination of fear and determination in her expression. I nod that I’ll keep quiet, and she lowers her hand and her eyes. My heart feels as if it’s going to explode out of my chest as adrenaline floods my system.
“You have to let me go.”
“The fuck I—”
She slaps her hand over my mouth again. “If you don’t let me go, you, your brothers, Chris, Laura . . . you’ll all be dead by sunrise.”
Everything around me slows, and static blazes in my ears. I must’ve misheard.
“I met with him.”
I have no question who the him she’s talking about is.
“What did he say to you?” I don’t sound normal, as if each word has been dragged through gravel.
Her pale blue eyes implore mine. “You have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” I grip my hair with both hands and stumble back, needing some distance from her, from this, from the unbelievable words pouring from her lips. “You were going to what? Just disappear with this guy? Would I ever see you again? You weren’t even going to say goodbye. I knew you were hiding something from me when you left. Since when do we lie to each other?” My gaze fixes on hers, and I match her determination with a healthy dose of my own. “I’m not going to let you go.”
“You have to.”
“I don’t have to do shit.”
“Listen to me.” Her voice lowers. “This is not a man who makes threats for fun, Milo. He means them.”
Mikkel fucking Vanderburgh. I knew he wasn’t who he said he was. I pull at my hair. “I fucking knew it.”
“I know you think I’m crazy, but there’s no way out of this. I saw it in his eyes. I felt it in my soul. He’ll never give up until he has me. I’ve been up all night thinking of ways to get out of it, but there’s nothing.”
“So that’s it. They found you.”
“Yes.”
“And the blood results?”
“Faked.”
What kind of power does this asshole have?
“This may be hard for you to understand, but I’ve lived my entire life believing I was created to save people, only to find out it was all a lie. I have it in my power now to save the people I love most from dying. I would rather live a life of torment then live a life of luxury in a world without you in it.”
“No one’s dying.”
“If I go, no one dies.”
I grip her cheeks and hold her gaze as fury rips through me. “I will not let him have you.”
She rocks slightly toward me as if dizzy with dread. “Milo, it will take an act of God to—”
“Not God.” I clench my teeth together. “Saints.”
I CAN’T THINK of a single time in my life when I’ve been scared. Dealing drugs or weapons, facing a rival gang—those things left me mostly energized. I never dabbled in narcotics when the opportunity presented itself because adrenaline was always my favorite high.
Sitting here with my cell phone pressed to my ear, explaining to Sebastian why I need his help, I’m fucking terrified.
I’m not afraid for Mercy. I’d kill this South African son of a bitch with my own hands to keep her safe.
I’m scared shitless because I know what this phone call is going to cost me.
Nothing is ever given for free. A price must always be paid.
And the LS always collects.
“Why don’t you call the cops?” Sebastian asks in Spanish.
“This guy faked a blood test with a state-run lab. Who knows what else he can do? I need a solution that’s permanent.”
“You need to talk to Esteban.”
With Mercy curled up in a ball on my couch, wearing the same sweatshirt and jeans she showed up in just months ago, her packed backpack at her feet, I’m making sure to axe English from this conversation. The less she knows, the better. “You know how to contact him?”
“I’ll have him call you.”
I hang up and check the time—almost three. Fuck! I tap impatiently on the cell-phone screen, my muscles tense, and I have the slight urge to put my head between my knees and dry heave.
“You okay?” I ask Mercy.
Her pale eyes slide to mine slowly, and she’s given up, the fire of life that burned behind her gaze being snuffed out with each passing minute. “I’m going to be okay, Milo.”
I sniff and shake my head. We have one hour, and I don’t have a solid plan that doesn’t include me simply murdering the prick and living the rest of my life on the run.
My phone vibrates in my hand—unlisted number. I stand and let Mercy know with a flick of my thumb that I’m going to take this outside.
“Hello?” I answer while moving through the door and closing it behind me.
“You got yourself into trouble with a South African?” It’s El Jefe, Esteban Vega.
“I’m out of time and out of options. The boys are mixed up in this too, so are you gonna help me?”
“All for a woman . . .”
My foot taps a frantic rhythm on the floor. “Can we cut the shit? ʼBastian explained.”
“Why should I help you? You brought heat down on me and your LS brothers, sayin’ I killed your mama. What the fuck have you ever done for me, Emilio?”
I grind my molars together.
“The woman walked out on us, ese. Even the cops said so.”
Bullshit! Then why the fuck are you hiding out in Mexico? I slam my eyes closed and focus on reining in my temper. Only half an hour is left, and the clock is ticking.
“You left Miguel and Julian alone—”
“I left them with you, and you fucked that up—”
“You abandoned us without a word!”
I pull the phone from my ear and take a calming breath. You need him. He’s your only hope at keeping Mercy safe.
“I’d like to help you, but you’re asking for LS resources, and last I checked, you ain’t a Saint.”
I grip the top of my hair and resist the impulse to tell him to go fuck himself. My gaze is drawn to my place, to Mercy. She didn’t ask for this life, yet she’s being forced to give herself up completely to some psychopath who’ll hunt her from the other side of the world. She was willing to sacrifice herself for me, proving her love. I’ll sacrifice myself for her.
“I’m in,” I say.
“You understand your loyalties?”
I am loyal to Mercy. Always to her first. That is why I need to do this. “To the Saints.”
“Till death.”
“Till death.” I swear I hear the creaking hinges and the slam of my coffin lid in the back of my mind.
He chuckles. “I’ll get you what you need.”
The phone line disconnects.
So it’s done.
Mercy
THE NUMBER ON the clock changes with a click that reverberates between my ribs.
Three fifty.
Time for me to go.
I can’t imagine a safer place than my position curled up in Milo’s lap with his big strong arms wrapped around me. In ten minutes, if I’m not where I’m supposed to be, this place will become a bloodbath. I shift to scoop up my backpack, which is stuffed with some clothes, my sketchbook, and a toothbrush.
Milo holds me more tightly. “I need more time.” His voice cracks.
I couldn’t understand his many conversations, but I can read his defeated expression. Whatever pl
an he had to save me didn’t work.
I wiggle beneath his unrelenting hold so that I can face him. I cup his jaw with both hands, and the muscles there are harder than usual and covered in a dusting of black stubble. He sets his gaze on mine but struggles to hold it.
“We will find each other again,” I say, “if not in this life, then the next.”
“No, Mercy, don’t say that—”
I pin his eyes with mine. “True love can’t be separated by time or distance . . . or even death.” I thump my chest with my fist. “You will always live here. With me. Even after my heart stops beating—”
“That’s not gonna fucking happen.” He wrenches his face from my hands.
He’s angry. I’m hopeful that will make it easier for him to let me go.
I stand, and this time, he lets me.
“I’ll walk you there.” He circles the coffee table to walk toward the door.
I stop him with a palm to his chest. His pulse throbs behind my hand, and I flex my fingers, wishing I could grab his heart and take it with me in a physical way as well as a metaphorical one. He stares down at my hand on his chest, then covers it with his own. His dark eyes glitter with sadness as he stares at me.
“You have to stay,” I say. “The only thing that could make this worse is seeing you die.”
He blinks—once, twice—and with each blink, a little of the life I love to watch dancing in his eyes disappears. A third time. Then once more . . . His stare is cold, robotic, dead. “I’ll find you.”
No, you won’t. “I know.” I push up to my toes and kiss his full, soft lips and linger a few seconds too long before pulling away. “I have to go.”
I turn and head for the door, but when I open it, a flat palm comes over my head and slams it shut. “Mercy . . .” He presses in behind me, his lips coming to my ear. “Mi alma. I love you.”
I close my eyes and allow his words to cut through me and plant themselves so deep they can never be ripped away. “I love you too.”
This time when I reach for the door, he doesn’t stop me. I swing it open and step outside. The sky is not as dark as it was just minutes ago, as the sun is my hourglass and time slips away.
