Merciless

by Lori Armstrong

  No.

  And he had acted paranoid when he spoke of me working for the feds.

  Screw him. I’d accepted him for who he was. He could return the favor.

  “Well, there’s one thing we can check off our bucket list.” She gave me a sly look. “Getting kicked out of a bar together. Only next time? Let’s get really, really drunk first.”

  “Deal.”

  6

  When the headlights from Dawson’s truck bounced up the driveway right after dusk Sunday night, my belly jumped as if I’d swallowed a live fish.

  Humbling, being cowed by an eleven-year-old boy.

  The dogs went crazy, and Dawson let loose a shrill whistle to quiet down the barking. Setting my beer on the counter, I grabbed the spare Carhartt jacket from the coat tree and ventured out onto the porch.

  Shoonga and Butch had Lex pinned against the passenger door. I shot a look at Mason, unloading bags from the backseat of his deluxe club cab.

  “Shoonga! Butch! Get over here.” The dogs raced up the steps, tails wagging, tongues lolling. “Sit.” Butch obeyed immediately. Shoonga jumped up on me. Damn dog needed obedience school. “Shoonga. Sit.” Whine, whine. I stood my ground. “Sit.” He dropped his rear onto the porch. Then he gave me the where’s-my-treat? look. Nice try, pooch. I patted him on the head with a “Good boy” and offered the same praise to Butch as I watched Mason struggling with the luggage while Lex gawked.

  “Lex?” Mason said. “Wanna give me a hand here?”

  “Oh. Sure.” He grabbed the biggest duffel and threw the strap over his shoulder, then he paused, waiting to follow his father up the stairs.

  I cautioned the dogs to stay and held open the screen door.

  Mason stopped, smiled, and kissed me before walking inside.

  Lex was too busy eyeing the dogs as he passed by to pay attention to me.

  They clomped upstairs, and the floor creaked as they entered Lex’s room. The acoustics in this house allowed me to hear, “This is your room. You can put your stuff away later.” The floorboards creaked as they moved down the hallway. “This is the bathroom you can use.”

  “Where’s your room?” Lex asked.

  “Downstairs. Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

  I rested my behind against a kitchen chair and waited for them to return.

  Mason draped his arm over my shoulder and kissed my temple. “Mercy, meet my son, Lex. Lex, this is Mercy.”

  I held out my hand. “Lex, it’s great to finally meet you. Welcome.”

  “So this is your ranch?” he asked, taking my hand in a firm handshake. I didn’t answer right away, as I was too busy gaping at Mason’s mini-me.

  Holy crap, did Lex look like his father. Same wavy hair—about twelve different shades of blond. Same vivid green eyes. Same wide-lipped mouth and stubborn chin. Lex’s size was where the comparison ended. Mason was a big guy, six feet three, broad across the shoulders and chest, whereas Lex was small and scrawny, all arms and legs.

  “Yes, it’s my family ranch. My sister, Hope; her husband, Jake; and their baby, Joy, live in a trailer down the road. They come and go as they please, so you’ll meet them tomorrow.” I glanced at Mason, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off his son. As if he couldn’t believe the boy was really here.

  If I hadn’t loved him before, I would’ve fallen head over heels for him right then.

  Which made me a total fucking sap.

  “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the place.” Mason looked at me. “Unless you want to do it?”

  “No, you guys go ahead. I’ll get supper on the table.”

  “What’re we havin’?”

  “Roast. Mashed potatoes. Corn. Biscuits. Chocolate cake.” Yeah, maybe I’d gone to some trouble to make a decent meal. But not because I was trying to impress the kid, or anything.

  Dawson kissed me. “Mmm. We’ll make it a quick tour.”

  Didn’t take long to see the main floor. Then they donned coats and headed outside, much to the delight of the dogs. Just as I was filling my great-grandmother’s gravy boat, they returned, laughing, cheeks bright red from the icy air, eyes shining. When I said, “Wash up,” I was thrown back in time to when the kitchen was my mother’s domain and Dad and I would have just come in from the cold, anxious for Sunday night roast and The Wonderful World of Disney. Made me a little misty-eyed.

  Jesus. When had my emotions turned me into a live Hallmark card?

  Lex was a watchful kid during supper, taking his behavior cues from his father.

  Neither Dawson nor I were the type to blather just to hear ourselves talk. We were comfortable with silence. If Lex expected more conversation at dinner, he didn’t mention it, nor did he ask a billion questions. The kid had a big appetite—two helpings of everything. Sophie would be in heaven.

  After cleaning up the kitchen, I lingered in the doorway, seeing them engrossed in a Broncos game. I debated on retreating to the office and dinking around with my computer, but Dawson motioned me over to the couch. The instant I sat, he pulled me close. “I know how much you hate watching football, but hang out with us for a bit, ’kay?”

  “Wake me up if I start to snore.”

  He pecked me on the mouth and smooched my forehead before he switched his focus back to the game. He didn’t care that Lex was covertly studying us.

  Since Mason had moved in and we’d gone public with our relationship, he didn’t hide his affection for me. Now that I knew how much his affectionate side was an innate part of his makeup, I also understood how hard it’d been for him to keep it under wraps during our clandestine phase. Still, this constant touchy-feely, kissy-face stuff took some getting used to.

  I dozed. The next thing I knew, Dawson poked my shoulder. “Hey, sleepyhead, go to bed. I’ll be there in a sec. I’m headed upstairs to make sure Lex is all right before he hits the hay.”

  I squinted at the dark living room with the flickering TV lights. Shadows danced across my vision. This was the worst possible light condition for my eye injury. I squeezed my eyes shut, reopened them, hoping—like always—that my vision would clear. But it remained murky.

  In the bedroom I stripped to a camisole and underwear and slipped between the sheets. Dawson spooned me just as I’d hit the peaceful state right before sleep overtakes all conscious cognitive thoughts. But the tension rolling off him kicked me back to full alert. “What’s up?”

  “I missed you last night.” His rough-skinned hand skated up my arm from my wrist to the curve of my bicep.

  “Okay. But spending one night apart when I was away for months isn’t what’s bugging you. Wanna talk about it?”

  “I don’t even know where the hell to start.” He sighed. “I knew Mona had moved again. But I hadn’t known it was to an even seedier area, if that’s possible. When I asked her about it, she immediately got surly with me. Lex tried to smooth things over, but Mona didn’t like Lex sticking up for me. She called him all kinds of names, then pointed at his bags and told him to get out.”

  I rolled over and rested my cheek on his chest. “That was it? That was how she said good-bye to her son?”

  “Yeah. The kid was trying so goddamn hard not to cry … and I know that shit can eat you up inside if you don’t let it out, so I told him to let ’er rip. I told him I wanted him to be honest with me about everything, the ugly stuff, the embarrassing stuff, the stuff he couldn’t tell his mom or anyone else. And he lost it, Mercy. Had a complete, blubbering meltdown in the front seat of my truck. Christ. Big talk on my part. I didn’t know what the hell to do.

  “When he calmed down, I asked him about getting kicked out of school. He said he did it on purpose so he could come here to live with me, because Mona threatened she’d send him away for good if he screwed up again.”

  “Again? He’s eleven. How many screwups can an eleven-year-old have?”

  “Not many. And he’s not a bad kid, not like he’s dealing drugs, or doing drugs, or jacking vehicles, or stealing electronics,
or hacking into computers. He gets into fights at school. A lot. Mona had to go to the school every time it happened. Deal with the teacher, the principal, the counselors, and the other parents. Evidently, one of the last counselors suggested Lex spend more time with me, when Lex mentioned being unhappy that Mona limited my visitation. She refused to consider it, and Lex kicked up his antagonism to the point where he got suspended.”

  I listened to him breathe. Listened to what he wasn’t saying. He agonized over the fact he hadn’t been there.

  “Mona’s always had a pretty good stranglehold on him. Now that he’s old enough to think for himself, maybe he’ll understand you were always trying to be part of his life.”

  “I hope so. When I offered to continue paying child support even if Lex lived with me, she jumped at the offer. And she didn’t argue when I told her I expected we’d draw up an official custody agreement.”

  “Any idea why she’s had a change of heart?”

  “Who knows? I think she’s relieved to be rid of him, and that’s so freakin’ wrong. Jesus. He’s just a boy.”

  I let my fingers trace the muscles bunched in his jaw. “So Lex might be here permanently?”

  “Maybe. Sounds stupid, huh? Being as he’s only been here four hours.” He made a soft groan when my fingers delved into the muscles knotted in his neck. “But here’s the kicker. When we were driving here, and I was talking about my expectations for him in school? He blurted out that he wanted to register as Lex Dawson, not as Lex Pullman.”

  “Whoa. Really?”

  “Yeah. Shocked the shit outta me. He wants everyone to know he’s my son, and I can understand that because he needs something to feel he belongs here. Then he asked how long it’d take and how much it’d cost to have his name changed permanently.”

  Whatever it cost, I knew Mason would pay it. I just hoped his kid wasn’t dicking with him. “Are you okay with that?”

  “Like I’d say no. Christ. I’ve been after Mona for years to let me get his name changed.”

  Another thing I hadn’t known. “Guess that means I’ll have to stop calling you Dawson, since there’ll now be two of you.”

  “I know I’ve asked you a couple of times, but be honest. Are you really okay with all of this?”

  I don’t know. “When haven’t I been honest with you?”

  He brushed his lips across my brow. “With work stuff. I can tell you’re … agitated about some things that are going down at G-man central. But I suspect you can’t talk to me about it or you would have.” His lips started moving farther south. When he reached my belly button, he looked at me. “I’m done talkin’. You?”

  “Uh-huh. But feel free to keep using that mouth.”

  • • •

  I woke up late the next morning, so the kitchen was full of people when I sought out my first hit of caffeine.

  Dawson and Lex. Sophie and Hope. Jake and Joy. Even TJ and Luke were sipping coffee. Damn good thing I hadn’t strolled out in my thong.

  Hope smiled at me. “Good. You’re up. You can help us plan this thing.”

  “What thing?”

  “A welcome-to-South-Dakota dinner party for Lex.”

  I almost choked on my coffee. “What? When?”

  “Tonight.”

  I glanced at Dawson, who was ignoring me, the traitor. Or maybe this was his idea. “So who all are you inviting?”

  “Our neighbors. Geneva and her family.”

  “I’ll invite John-John and Muskrat. And of course Devlin will come,” Sophie added.

  Hope scowled and exchanged a look with Jake.

  “Penny will be there, too. It’d do her good to get out of the house.” She pointed at her grandsons, Luke and TJ. “Better be inviting your families, too, eh?”

  “Yes, Unci,” they said in unison.

  “The sheriff’s friends and coworkers.” Hope cocked her head. “Do you wanna invite that guy you work with in the FBI?”

  Hell no. “I’ll ask if I see him today,” I lied.

  Dawson stood. “Come on, Lex. Let’s get you to school.”

  TJ and Luke headed out, their coffee break over. Jake handed Joy to Hope and kissed them both on the cheek before he followed his cousins outside. Their workday had started hours ago.

  Lex smiled at Joy and curled his hand around her shoe. “She’s cute.”

  “Thanks,” Hope said, smooching Joy’s dark head.

  “A woman in our building had a baby girl. Sometimes if the mom had to run to the store, I’d watch her. So, if you need anyone …”

  “That’s very thoughtful, Lex. Thanks,” Hope said softly.

  Okay, that was pretty sweet. And seeing the sheen of tears in Hope’s eyes, I know she was thinking of Levi.

  Mason handed Lex his coat. “Go on out to the truck. I’ll be right there.” He pointed to the living room, and I followed him. He put his mouth to my ear. “Just so you know, the party wasn’t my idea, but I went with it, okay?”

  “This is freakin’ bizarre. Anyone who knows us knows we’re not Hey-let’s-have-a-dinner-party type of people.”

  “Agreed, but Lex seemed excited.”

  I hadn’t seen that reaction. I poked Dawson in the chest. “You’d better be here, buster. No I-have-to-work-an-extra-eight-hour-shift cop excuse.”

  “Same goes, Special Agent Gunderson.”

  As I watched him walk away, the words a party kept ricocheting in my brain. What was next in my life? Joining a bridge club? Dawson and me buying matching club jackets?

  God. I hoped this party had plenty of booze.

  • • •

  I made a quick detour to the Q-Mart for a cup of coffee. I had a craving for one of those Old Home fruit pies: a sugar-glazed crust filled with sweet, thick artificial filling. A snack laden with lard, sugar, and empty calories that would make Mason frown.

  The clerk, Margene, gabbed on her cell phone while she rang up the young woman in front of me. When she turned to get money from her purse, I recognized her.

  “Hey, Verline. I usually don’t see you in here.”

  “I needed milk. And a pack of smokes.”

  She gave me a haughty look, as if she expected me to chastise her for her nicotine habit.

  I held up my cherry-filled fruit pie. “We all have our vices.” After I paid and headed to my pickup, I saw Verline lounging against the side of the building.

  She walked toward me. “I, ah, forgot the other day when you stopped by. I wanted to say thanks for the basket of baby stuff. That was really cool of you and Hope.”

  “You’re welcome. How are the kids?” I couldn’t for the life of me remember their oddball names.

  “Tiring. Seems like I don’t ever get a break.”

  I felt sorry for this girl, even when I understood that her choices had put her in this situation. I surprised myself and her, when I said, “We’re having a welcome get-together for Dawson’s son tonight. Around six or so. You and Rollie should come if you don’t already have plans.”

  “Plans?” She choked on a stream of smoke. “We never do nothin’. Can I bring the babies?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Maybe we’ll see you there.”

  • • •

  My workday consisted of paperwork. Turnbull was strangely subdued. He didn’t ask about my weekend, so I returned the favor and didn’t ask about his.

  Midafternoon, I mustered the guts to ask Shay to meet me in the conference room. Director Shenker would be in the Pierre office this week. The other agents were at various locations in western South Dakota. Which left no one to witness the massive ass chewing I was in for.

  He was shuffling a sheaf of papers as he walked in. “Why the summons, Agent Gunderson?”

  “I have to tell you something, but I don’t want you to rip me a new one because it was an honest mistake.”

  Turnbull growled, “What did you do now?”

  “I found out the name of the mysterious guy Arlette was supposedly seeing.”

  �
�Who?”

  “Junior Rondeaux.”

  “As in Rollie Rondeaux, Jr.? The son of your friend Rollie Rondeaux?”

  “Yes. Remember the no-show teenage girl the other day—Mackenzie Red Shirt?” I relayed the conversation we’d had in the parking lot. Then, that I’d stopped at Rollie’s and Verline had said Junior didn’t live with them anymore. I followed up with my run-in with Junior in Clementine’s parking lot.

  Special Agent Turnbull gave me the silent treatment for, oh, about fourteen seconds before he exploded. “And you didn’t think I needed to know any of this immediately after it happened?” His eyes turned accusatory. “Are you protecting the Rondeaux family? I know about Rollie’s tendency to collect favors. How many do you owe him? And just how long has he been your source?”

  I stayed calm. “First of all, last Friday you were pissed off. You hung me out to dry in front of all the other agents, because I had the audacity to ask you questions on a case we’re both working. When I brought up information I’d dug up on my own that might pertain to that case, you put no credence in my findings. Then you just let Shenker assign me shit work.

  “I didn’t ask Junior to approach me at Clementine’s when I was having a night out with my sister. But if I hadn’t used the sources at my fingertips, people I’ve known most my life, then I wouldn’t have found out that Junior is somehow working for Saro.”

  Both Shay’s eyebrows rose.

  “You didn’t know that?”

  He shook his head.

  I paused and poured a glass of water. Was I supposed to throw all my theories out there for Shay to shoot down? Just so he didn’t think I was keeping information from him? Or should I wait until I had solid leads, evidence, whatever?

  “Look, Mercy, you know we’re less rigid in this office than other FBI offices. You and me? We’re not officially partners. But we’re both on this case. That means sharing all information, whenever that information is uncovered.”

  “So you’re saying I should’ve called you Saturday night, after I talked to Junior.”