Hook: Exiles of the Realm

by Adrienne Bell

  Mercy stopped short at the familiar accent…or maybe at the warm breath caressing her earlobe. She couldn’t be sure.

  She turned around as James lifted the glass to his lips.

  “You came,” she said, sounding more amazed than she intended.

  “I told you I would.” He looked her uniform up and down. Tiny lines creased the corners of his eyes as disappointment crept across his face. “Of course, I came thinking you’d be my companion for the evening.”

  Mercy shook her head. “I told you, I’m a volunteer here.”

  “So, you can’t have a night off?”

  “Not this one,” she said, tucking her tray under her arm. “Tonight’s our biggest night. They need my help.”

  “And what if I need your help?”

  Mercy laughed. “With what? Spending money?” She gave his expensive-looking suit the once over. “Something tells me you’ll be fine on your own.”

  His eyes stayed locked on hers as he took another sip of champagne. “But that’s the problem. What if I don’t want to be on my own? What if I want company?”

  “Then you’re in a room filled to the brim with other rich, successful, beautiful people,” she said.

  “What if I’m only interested in you?”

  Mercy laughed. She couldn’t help it. The guy really knew how to lay it on thick.

  “Well, then you’ll just have to wait until I come by with another round of drinks.” Behind her, the bell sounded on stage for the auction to begin. “Until then, go bid on some items and drive up the prices. We were hoping to buy a new set of computers for the library this year.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he said, tilting his head in mock submission.

  Mercy rolled her eyes and made her way back to the kitchen.

  He wasn’t there when Mercy came out a few minutes later with another tray. She wasn’t sure if he’d moved closer to the stage or left the event entirely. She told herself she didn’t care. That she wasn’t going to look for him.

  And she didn’t.

  For all of five minutes.

  But somehow, despite all her resolve and strong self-talk, she walked along the perimeter of the room, peering through the crowd instead of cutting straight through.

  She finally spotted him standing between two elegant-looking ladies in floor-length gowns next to the stage, charming them with that smile she knew too well. The women were hanging on his every word. One had her hand draped over his shoulder. The other twisted her champagne glass between her fingers as she gave a bright laugh.

  Mercy pressed her lips together tight as her shoulders fell forward. Well, she couldn’t be upset. After all, the man was only doing what she’d told him to. He’d found more appropriate company with someone else.

  Two someone elses.

  Mercy couldn’t blame the women for hanging all over him. She understood James’ magnetic pull only too well. The man was a damned force of nature.

  More power to them. Mercy pushed off the wall and began winding her way through the crowd. She hadn’t really been expecting him to be waiting for her when she got back…had she?

  No, of course not. That would be silly. She knew better than to take flattery seriously.

  Besides, she had a job to do.

  One that she threw herself into the moment she was safely back in the kitchen. Only, she didn’t rush to refill her tray. She handed it off to another volunteer instead. Someone else could work the floor awhile. There was plenty for her to do back here—refilling glasses, directing staff, washing dishes. Tasks that kept her hands busy and her mind occupied.

  The din spilled in from the floor as the hours ticked by. There was a lot of applause and cheering, far more than in years past.

  Thank God. The center needed a win, especially now that finding corporate sponsors was becoming more and more difficult. Everyone was crossing their fingers that tonight’s gala might help make up the difference. Heaven knew the budget couldn’t get much tighter.

  Every time the crowd roared, the mood in the kitchen got a little lighter. Something was happening out there, and Mercy resisted the urge to huddle with everyone else around the little window in the kitchen door to see what. She’d find out at the end of the evening if their prayers had been answered. Until then, she’d keep doing her part to make sure everything ran smoothly.

  Still, Mercy couldn’t keep her heart from thumping in her chest as the night wound down. She wrung her hands together when the kitchen door swung open and the center’s director came through, a huge smile plastered across her face.

  “I just wanted to come back and thank everyone for their hard work. Your dedication helped make this far and away the best gala the center has ever seen,” the director said. “Now, the numbers are still rough, but right now I can confidently say that, thanks to the generosity of some very enthusiastic donors, we’ve raised enough to fully fund both the new computer lab…and the day care center.”

  Mercy let out the breath she’d been holding in one big rush. Tears of joy stung her eyes as the other volunteers began to hug. Mercy kept her hands clutched together and closed her eyes as she mouthed a prayer of thanks.

  “And one of those donors is waiting out there for you now, Mercy,” the director said.

  Her eyes popped open mid amen to see every soul in the kitchen staring at her.

  “E-excuse me,” Mercy said.

  “A Mr. Hook,” the director said, starting to describe him. “A blond gentleman, blue eyes, interesting accent—”

  “I know who he is,” Mercy cut her off before she could go any farther.

  “He obviously knows you. He’s been asking about you all night,” the director said with a knowing smile. “When he wasn’t bidding on everything that came on stage, that is.”

  Mercy fought the blush that threatened to catch fire in her cheeks.

  “He’s just an acquaintance from work,” she rushed to explain to the group of people around her.

  They nodded slowly, as if they didn’t believe her. That was okay. Mercy wasn’t sure she bought the excuse anymore either.

  “Does he know that?” the director asked. “Because he’s in the ballroom…waiting for you.”

  Mercy turned around to face the sink. She quickly pushed her gloved hands into the hot, soapy water.

  “You can let him know that I’ll be out as soon as I’m done with this last batch of dishes.”

  “Oh, I think that we can find someone to finish up for you,” the director said. “You’ve done more than your fair share of work tonight.”

  “I’m happy to help,” the girl at her side said with a wide smile.

  Mercy shot back a tight one in return. The truth was she didn’t know why she was bothering to stall. The man had proved his patience time and again. Deep down she knew that no matter how long she puttered, James would still be waiting for her when she was done.

  Better to deal with this swirling mess of emotions that had taken up residence in her belly now than put it off for another half an hour.

  She nodded her thanks to the girl beside her as she pulled off her rubber gloves, and did her best to ignore everyone’s silent stares as she grabbed her jacket and purse. She let a long breath silently whistle through her pursed lips as she pushed the swinging kitchen door open and stepped out onto the ballroom floor.

  This time her gaze found James immediately.

  It wasn’t hard. The ballroom floor was nearly empty. Only a few scattered stragglers still lingered among the tall tables. He leaned with his elbow propped on top of the nearest one, his gaze fixed on the kitchen door.

  No. Not on the door. That shimmering blue gaze was fixed on her.

  Mercy did her best not to show the rush of warmth that spread through her limbs as she made her way across the empty floor toward him. It didn’t help that his smile seemed to widen with every step she took.

  “For a second, I was scared that you’d run out and left me all alone,” he said when she was close enough.<
br />
  Funny. She’d thought the same thing earlier. Not that she was about to admit it.

  “I think scared might be overselling it,” she said, her fingers curling tight into the leather strap of her purse. “From where I stood, it didn’t look like you were having any trouble finding people to keep you company.”

  “That can’t be jealousy I’m hearing,” he said, his eyes growing wide in mock surprise.

  “You’re right. It’s not,” she said flatly. She planted one hand on the top of the table for stability and forged ahead before he could get any more quips in. “I just wanted to thank you for coming through for the center tonight. I heard you were one of the top bidders. Your generosity is going to help a lot of people.”

  “I didn’t do it for them.” James’ voice dropped down low. His hand found hers, and his fingertips brushed against the line of her knuckles. “I did it for you.”

  “No,” Mercy said, shaking her head, even as the fire inside her grew. Sure, she liked sweet words as much as the next girl. But wanting something to be true didn’t make it so. She knew that better than anyone. “You did it because you want to win a bet.”

  “Can’t both reasons be true?”

  “I appreciate that you kept your end of the bargain,” Mercy said. She pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine as she looked him dead in the eyes. “And now, I’ll keep mine. Just tell me where and when you want me to meet you.”

  “You make it sound like I’m dragging you off for a ritual sacrifice.”

  Maybe that was because deep down that’s how she felt.

  James’ brows pulled down over the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have a lot of fun, do you, Mercy?”

  She shrugged. “I have enough.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think you do.”

  He was right, of course. Not that it was any of his business.

  “You should.” He leaned in closer, his hand fully covering hers. “You’ve worked hard for everyone else tonight. Let me take you out for a drink.”

  Mercy didn’t pull away…but she didn’t say yes either. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “I am.”

  “I have class in the morning before work,” she tried.

  “Class?”

  She nodded. “I’m a student at the state college.”

  “Then we won’t stay out long,” he said.

  Mercy’s lips pressed together. She probably shouldn’t. After all, she still had so much to do once she got home—a stack of bills to go through, sociology notes to review, a comparative religion essay to finish.

  But then again, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out for a drink. Not with anyone, let alone a handsome man. And it was just one drink.

  James must have sensed her inner struggle because he leaned closer and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Besides, think of all the poor people that we’ll disappoint if we don’t.”

  She turned around, following his line of sight straight to the small kitchen window that was packed with gawking faces. Mercy rolled her eyes.

  Great.

  Just great. It looked like she was going to be peppered with embarrassing questions all week whether she went out with him or not. Well, as long as she had to pay the price she might as well enjoy the sin.

  Not that she was planning to sin with James.

  They were just going out for a drink.

  Mercy let out a sharp breath. “All right,” she said. “One drink. That’s it. No funny business.”

  “Don’t be fooled by the smile,” James said, offering her his bent arm as he straightened up. “I’m always deathly serious about business.”

  Chapter Five

  He’d been right. Mercy didn’t have much fun.

  James could see it in her eyes as she stared down at her drink. She hadn’t looked up since the waitress had placed her cocktail in front of her a few minutes ago.

  She was uncomfortable. That much was crystal clear. Her shoulders were high, her arms held tight at her side. Hell, everything about her was tight—her lips, her jaw, the lines feathering out from her eyes.

  Maybe it had to do with the bar that he’d chosen to bring her to. Not that there was anything particularly special about it. The bar was busy and stuffed with people, just like every other establishment lining Mission Street on a Friday night.

  He didn’t mind the crowds and the noise. More than didn’t mind—deep down he loved them. Places like this felt the closest to home. Packed taverns were the one constant through all the worlds. Wherever you went a bar was a bar was a bar.

  Of course, that was his experience. Mercy’s was obviously different.

  Or maybe not so obviously.

  He had no idea what was going on in her mind, what thoughts were spinning just below that fretful expression. There was only one way to find out.

  “Is it the setting or the company?”

  That did the trick. Mercy’s head popped up. Even in the dim overhead light, her wide brown eyes shimmered with warmth.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You haven’t touched your drink or said a word since we sat down.” James casually crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I’m guessing that means you’re unhappy with something. So, which is it—the setting or the company?”

  “Neither.” She shifted back and forth in her chair as if trying to force her attention out of her head and into her body. “I’m just wrapped up in my thoughts. Sorry. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow’s going to be another one.”

  “Talk to me about it,” he said.

  She waved him off, her gaze already shifting far away again. “I doubt you’d be interested.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

  Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she hesitated. Apparently, she thought nothing of trusting him with the financial future of her beloved charity, but the mundane details of her daily life were another story.

  Eventually, she let out a long breath and wrapped her fingers around her glass. She took a small sip before letting her shoulders ease down an inch.

  “I was just thinking about what I still needed to do for a paper that’s due tomorrow. I was hoping to put on the finishing touches today but there wasn’t any time between work and the gala, so I’ll have to get up early.”

  “How many days a week do you go to school?”

  “Six.”

  He arched a brow as he reached for his wine. “While working full time?”

  She shrugged and took another sip. A longer one this time. “It’s what I have to do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t get it done the first time,” she admitted.

  Her gaze strayed from his, traveling up to the ceiling, but she couldn’t hide the hint of sadness in her voice. He didn’t press her for an explanation. He had no doubt she’d give him one eventually. In her own time. Not his.

  That’s why he’d brought her here after all, to loosen her up, to hear her talk about herself. In a way, she was right, he didn’t want to know about her day. Not really. What he was searching for was a way into her heart. And if he sat back and was patient, she would show him. He wouldn’t have to press.

  Mercy drew in a deep breath, and took a drink. And then another. Her shoulders dropped a little more.

  Sure enough, a few moments later, her gaze made its way back to his.

  “I got a scholarship to San Francisco State right out of high school,” she said. “Emily and I were dorm mates. She was studying anthropology; I was going to be a sociology major. Everything was going great…until my mom got sick in the middle of my sophomore year.” Mercy picked up her glass, but didn’t take a drink. She just stared at the silvery bubbles sparkling in the overhead lights. “Ovarian cancer. The doctors gave her six months, but she survived two years. At first, I tried going on like nothing had changed, but that didn’t last long.”

  “So, you left school,” he said.

&n
bsp; Mercy nodded. “There wasn’t one simple thing to blame it on. It was a perfect storm of shitty situations—my grades had slipped because of the stress, my mother needed more and more help, my grandmother was too old to meet the physical demands, my father had to take a second job to make up for my mom losing hers. In a lot of ways, I really was the only one who could take care of her.”

  Mercy put her glass down and looked up at him. Only now, her eyes were swimming with another emotion—guilt.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I was there for her,” she added quickly, as if she feared he might judge her. “I wouldn’t give up those two years for anything. But when I tried to go back to school, there was no more scholarship…just a big pile of medical bills and no one to pay them. So, I went to work.”

  James’ brows pulled together. “What about your father?”

  “He moved back to be with his family in Texas. The city was too expensive for him to live on his own.” She paused for a moment, her eyes focusing on a point just past him. “And too lonely, now that I think about it.”

  “But not for you?” he asked.

  “I had my grandmother,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “After my dad left, I moved in with her. I saved my money, paid down the debts and squirreled the rest away for school. Eventually, I had enough to go back.”

  “To study sociology?”

  “Yep,” she said, taking another sip. “Two years left before I get my degree. I’m hoping to get a paid position at the Valencia House after that.”

  James cocked his head to the side. “You want to work for a charity?”

  “A non-profit,” she corrected him.

  “Either way,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t imagine there’s a great deal of money in social work.”

  Mercy shrugged. Her shoulders were softer now, more relaxed, and he could just detect a hint of pink blossoming in her cheeks. The work of her vodka tonic, no doubt.

  “Like you said, there are currencies besides money,” she answered.

  “I suppose those were my words.” Of course, he’d been talking about things like pride, status, and fame—all those indulgent luxuries even a whole purse of golden coins couldn’t purchase. Somehow, James had the feeling Mercy was talking about something altogether different. Something he couldn’t quite fathom.