So I was grateful for Lex’s chatter in the pickup on the way into town, although I processed it only as noise.
At the hospital the doctor informed us that there didn’t appear to be any permanent brain damage. That, except for a few minor things, Dawson had come out of the coma better than expected. He’d make a full recovery.
All my life I’d heard the word miracle tossed around, but I’d never believed it until now.
Mason would remain in ICU for a day or two, but we didn’t have to don protective gear to see him.
Lex practically bounced from foot to foot as we stood outside the door to room 406. The doctor went through a list of suggestions, which again, I largely didn’t hear, due to my thundering heart.
Then the doctor opened the door.
My first glimpse was of Dawson sitting up in bed. Arms crossed over his chest as he scowled at the TV. His gaze snapped in our direction at the sound of Lex’s shoes squeaking on the floor.
But his eyes were solely focused on me.
Lex raced toward him, only to come to a screeching halt.
Then he looked at Lex. “It’s okay, son. I’ll take a hug just as long as you don’t squeeze my neck.”
Mason’s voice was a deep rasp, his words slower than normal. I hung back and let Lex entertain him, until Mason fidgeted and raised a questioning brow at me.
“What?”
“You’re acting a little gun shy for bein’ my fiancée and all.”
I smiled and reached for the hand he’d held out. I threaded my fingers through his and brought his arm to my chest, wrapping my other arm around and giving his knuckles a soft kiss.
The doctor said to Lex, “The nurse mentioned ice cream. Let’s have you pick some for you and your dad.”
After they were gone, I said, “How do you feel?”
“Confused. My throat feels like I swallowed a pound of glass and chased it with a gallon of lemon juice. My head … hurts. My eyes … are happy to see you.”
“Just your eyes?”
He smirked. “The one-eyed monster is happy to see you, too.” Dawson tugged on my arm as a signal he wanted me closer.
I leaned close enough to feel his minty breath on my cheek before I lowered my mouth to his for a chaste kiss.
He murmured, “Kiss me like you mean it, woman. I damn near died.” And he promptly blew my mind with a kiss so hot, yet so full of love, that those pesky tears filled my eyes again.
But I didn’t stop kissing him. Couldn’t, actually.
Finally, I eased back and peered into his face. “You ever scare me like that again, Mason Dawson, and the hurt I’ll inflict on you will be ten times worse than any two-thousand-pound bull, got it?”
“Loud and clear, Sergeant Major.” He frowned. “Your mouth is bleeding.”
His enthusiastic kisses had opened the cut on my lip, but I’d ignored the pain. I grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the spot.
Then his focus narrowed on my face. “Jesus. Is that a bruise? What the hell happened to your cheek?”
“Would you believe I walked into the barn door?”
“No.”
I forced a laugh. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem a little … off.”
You have no idea. “Been rough having my man in a coma. I’m better now that you’re better.” I let my fingertips brush the bristly growth on his cheeks and jaw. I just wanted to crawl in bed with him and surround myself with everything that was him.
“Mercy. What’s really goin’ on? Something happen at work this week?”
“Nothing that I can talk about.” Not a total lie.
Dawson closed his eyes. “You want to know what woke me?”
If he said some kind of woo-woo shit, like he’d had a nightmare about me being in danger, I’d freak the fuck out. “What?”
“I dreamed about that weekend I visited you at Quantico. We hadn’t seen each other in two months.”
“And we didn’t leave the room for the first twenty-four hours. After that we barely left the hotel.” I remembered thinking the state’s slogan—VIRGINIA IS FOR LOVERS—was apt. “Why do you think you dreamed of that?”
“Because that’s when I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“We were solid.” His breathing slowed. “So you’re really gonna marry me?”
“Yes, if you ever produce a ring.”
“It’s been in my sock drawer since the week you came home. If I’da known a head injury was the way to convince you to become my wife, I’da climbed on a bull a lot sooner.”
I resisted my impulse to whap him on the chest. “I’m not changing my name.”
“I don’t care. Just as long as you don’t change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” A long pause. “I’m so tired.”
“Rest.” I brushed his hair back from his damp forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Dawson and I were solid. It’d just taken a little trip over shaky ground to get me to believe it.
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later …
I woke to the smell of bacon frying.
What the hell? Mason was still asleep next to me. I squinted at the clock on the nightstand. I doubted Lex was up at 6:30 cooking breakfast for us. But then again … the boy had been so helpful since his father had come home from the hospital that I really didn’t know what I would’ve done without him.
I slid free from being pinned beneath Dawson’s leg and arm, patting his shoulder when he scowled that I’d somehow escaped his hold.
Pulling on my robe, I yawned and headed to the kitchen. “Lex, if you want help—”
But it wasn’t Lex standing at the stove. It was Sophie.
Although her eyes were sad, she smiled at me, even when I continued to gape at her as if she were an apparition. “Good mornin’, takoja. I’m thinkin’ of whipping up some omelets.”
I wanted to ask what she was doing here. But I just stood there, like an idiot, with my mouth hanging open.
“You’re always grumpy until after you’ve had that first shot of caffeine. Luckily, I made a pot of coffee, eh?”
A few weeks away hadn’t changed her bossy ways. I marched up to her and hugged her, ignoring her warnings about bacon grease splattering us. And I kept right on hugging her until she hugged me back and sighed.
Then she patted my shoulder. “I missed you, too, Mercy. Now sit.”
I sat. Sophie brought us both a cup of coffee and took the chair across from mine. If she noticed the ruffled place mats were gone, she didn’t mention it.
“How’s the Sheriff?”
“Really good. He’s working half days through this week. If his arm is more responsive to the physical therapy on Friday, he’ll go to full shifts next week.” The only lingering effect from the coma was Dawson’s limited mobility on his left side. It frustrated him not being 100 percent. A feeling I was familiar with.
“He’s lucky. I prayed to Wakan Tanka when I heard about his accident.”
“Thank you. Every day I realized how blessed we are.”
“I prayed for you, too, Mercy. I prayed you’d find peace. I prayed you’d discover the power in forgiveness.”
Not likely. Especially since I knew she was talking about forgiving John-John. I lifted my cup to drink.
Of course, Sophie’s sharp gaze focused on the diamond engagement ring on my left hand. “I’m assuming you finally said yes to the Sheriff?”
“He was being a pain in the ass about it, so I agreed to marry him just to shut him up.” I set down my cup. “So you coming back to work for me or what?”
Sophie harrumphed. “Yes, you need a caretaker. I saw that you hadn’t cleaned the laundry room at all while I was gone. I’m gonna need a bigger vacuum, hey, to get them dust rhinos under the couch cleaned up.”
“So noted.”
“I ain’t gonna work full time. Mebbe just two days a week here. Hope and Jake don’t need me meddling at their place. Jake said you to
ok time off. Are you back to work at the FBI now?”
“No, I’m on personal leave until I know Dawson’s recovery is complete.” After that? Who knew? I wasn’t sure if I expected Director Shenker and Agent Turnbull to beg me to stay, or if I’d feel relief if they let me go. Either way, I would have to make a decision soon.
Every day I read the paper and listened to the news, expecting to hear a breaking story about a bullet-riddled body found in the woods on the rez. But after two-plus weeks … nothing. The tribal police hadn’t made a statement about what they’d discovered at Sheldon War Bonnet’s house, either. Rollie’s warning—All the sick stuff most people, even the cops, on the rez turn a blind eye to—had proven true. It was easier sweeping evil under the tipi. Or denying its existence altogether.
“You could always go back to work at Clementine’s,” Sophie suggested, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I doubt that’s an option, since John-John and I aren’t speaking.”
“He’s sorry, Mercy. You have no idea how sorry he is.”
“That is true. I have no idea how sorry he is, because I haven’t heard from him or seen him at all,” I retorted.
“He’s grieving.”
“I know. So are you. Just … don’t make excuses for him, okay?”
Sophie lifted her stubborn chin. “My grandson is going to apologize. Mebbe the question should be: Will you let him?”
I shrugged. I’d believe it when I saw the whites of John-John’s eyes. He’d have to come up with something pretty spectacular in the making-up department. Because after Geneva and I had our big fight? She’d brought me a bucket of kittens.
What could possibly top that?
A towel cracked next to my elbow, and I jumped.
Sophie cackled. “Go on, now. Get your man and your boy up to the table for breakfast. I ain’t got all day. It’s time things got back to normal around here.”
My man and my boy. How I loved the sound of that.
Had I really complained only a few short weeks ago that my life had become mundane? After what I’d gone through in the past few weeks, I’d never complain again. I’d embrace waking up a cranky kid every morning. I’d send Dawson off to work with an affirmation of my feelings for him every day, even when it seemed silly and redundant. I’d let Sophie nag me about anything, just as long as she did it in person.
I’d take this new normalcy in my life for as long as I could get it.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My editor, Megan Reid, is a rock star, and so instrumental in getting Mercy where she needed to be. I am so thankful for everything she’s done.
The agents in the local FBI office have gone above and beyond in answering my questions, steering me in the right direction when I’ve veered off the path. My gratitude especially goes to RP and DD for all their help.
A huge debt of thanks to Hon. Robert Mandel, Seventh Circuit Court Judge, for his invaluable tutorial on tribal law and his insight on the grand jury process. Any legal or procedural discrepancies are strictly my own.
Thanks to my husband, Erin, aka Gun Guy, who tackles my firearms questions with humor and patience, and uses my need for “firsthand knowledge” of specific firearms as an excuse to buy more guns.
Thank you to my family for understanding and living through deadline hell with me.
Thanks to the readers who contacted me, asking about the release date of the next Mercy book, since there’s been a two-year lag … it’s good to know Mercy was missed.
TOUCHSTONE READING GROUP GUIDE
Merciless: A Mystery
In Merciless, newly minted FBI agent Mercy Gunderson is investigating her first murder case, working in conjunction with the tribal police on the Eagle River Reservation, where the victim is the teenage niece of the recently elected tribal president. When another gruesome killing occurs during the early stages of the investigation, Mercy finds herself torn between her duty to the FBI and her obligations to those she loves, including her fiancé, Eagle River County sheriff Mason Dawson.
When hidden political agendas and old family vendettas turn ugly, masking motives and causing a rift between the tribal police, the tribal council, and the FBI, Mercy discovers that the deranged killer has his sights set on her as his next victim. In order to save herself and protect her family, Mercy must unleash the cold, dark, efficient killer inside her to become the predator rather than the prey.
FOR DISCUSSION
1. Describe Special Agent Mercy Gunderson’s relationship with her FBI colleague, Special Agent Shay Turnbull. How does it change throughout the course of the novel?
2. “I was only a quarter Minneconjou Sioux, which was just enough to slightly darken my skin tone and lighten my hair color to light brown.” How much does Mercy’s Native American heritage help or hinder her in her official and unofficial interactions on the Eagle River Reservation? Consider her interactions with Fergie, Tribal President Latimer Elk Thunder, Rollie Rondeaux, and Saro.
3. “For most traditional Indian families, an autopsy is considered a desecration of the body and the spirit. Especially in children.” In what other ways do Special Agents Mercy Gunderson and Shay Turnbull accommodate native traditions and beliefs in their federal investigation into the murders? How does Shay interpret the tribal police’s efforts to find the serial killer on the reservation? To what extent do his views differ from Mercy’s feelings about the tribal police?
4. How does the nondisclosure rule, which prevents Dawson and Mercy from discussing criminal cases of mutual interest to the agencies where they work, impact their relationship throughout the novel? Do you think it contributes to Mercy’s final decision to go after the killer, and do you think this rule has merit for couples? Why or why not?
5. Describe Mercy and Dawson’s first hunt together. To what extent is this outing typical of their domestic interactions?
6. How do Mercy’s abilities and interests set her apart as a unique sort of heroine in Merciless?
7. How does Mason’s rodeo accident transform Mercy’s relationships with Mason’s son, Lex, and with her FBI colleague, Shay Turnbull?
8. Mercy chooses to pursue the killer independently without first disclosing their identity to Shay Turnbull or anyone else at the FBI or tribal police. How does the successful outcome of her pursuit call into question her ethical judgment? Did this decision impact your opinion of her as a character?
9. How did you feel when you discovered the killer’s identity? Given the many suspects put forth by Mercy and Shay, which seemed most plausible to you and why?
10. “I’d take this new normalcy in my life for as long as I could get it.” Though the book closes on a positive note, Armstrong gives readers the opportunity to use their imaginations in thinking about what might be next for Mercy. Describe Mercy’s “new normal” at the end of Merciless, and predict how her future relationships might be affected by the events of this book. Consider Dawson, John-John, Lex, and Shay, especially.
A CONVERSATION WITH LORI ARMSTRONG
Mercy’s appreciation for weaponry definitely falls into the category of near obsession. Can you describe your own experience with and knowledge of guns?
My experience with guns is limited to working in the family gun business in the accounting department for a decade. However, my husband still makes his living in the firearms business, so I’m lucky enough to be able to pick his brain when I need to. He handles lots of cool firearms on a daily basis, which I remind myself would be Mercy’s dream job.
An unlikely character turns out to be a serial killer and predator in Merciless, but the murderer’s identity remains a mystery until quite late in the novel. Tell us a bit more about how you plan your books. At what point in your plotting the novel did you know who the killer would be?
That’s the one thing I do know when I start a book—who the villain is. The rest of it … comes while I’m writing. I usually know the eight to ten black moments, or turning points, in the story before I start it. And I’m consta
ntly surprised by how much ends up in the book that I didn’t plan for. Characters show up on the page, or I kill off a character I hadn’t intended to. So to some extent it’s as much a discovery process for me as a writer as it is for the reader. I figure if I’m surprised then readers will be too.
Mercy Gunderson is an extremely open protagonist—unapologetic about her drinking, honest about her isolationist tendencies, straightforward about her physical needs. What is your favorite part about writing her?
I love when Mercy shows me a glimpse of humor. The darkness and lone-wolf attitude are an innate part of her and are expected, given her background. But it’s those moments when we see her sense of humor, or when she tosses off a oneliner that amuse me, because it isn’t something I plan. It just happens.
Does Mercy still surprise you as a character? What was the biggest “surprise” she shocked you with in Merciless?
Yes, Mercy still makes me scratch my head on occasion. The fact that Mercy showed a domestic side and that she liked it was a surprise to me. She has nurturing tendencies, but she’s not had a lot of opportunites to act on them, so her relationship with Lex was a lot easier than I’d thought it would be. Easier, not to write, but easier to believe because we’ve only seen the barest glimpses of her around children. She’s not afraid of kids, but she’s afraid of getting too close and losing that connection again like she did with Levi. So I was happy she bucked up to the challenge of Lex living with them, right from the start.
As an author, how difficult was it for you to inhabit some of the “darkness” Mercy has to grapple with in this book? Did it feel like a natural progression from the first two books in this series?
I feel Mercy has adjusted more to civilian life in this book, so she naturally has fewer dark edges—that she lets show—because she isn’t dealing with horrific death up close in her face every day like she was during her military service. It’s important for me to show that Mercy isn’t the clichéd army vet who drinks too much and constantly shoves away everyone who cares about her. The fact that she is in a long-term relationship with Dawson, and she accepts Lex will be in their lives, and she’s changed the dynamics of her relationship with both her sister Hope and Jake, proving she wants to be a part of something again.
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