Page 44 of Shot For Mercy

A shiver runs down my spine, and I grit my teeth. They’ve been friends since high school, I know that. When she came to work at Luna’s Den, it was due to Cole’s recommendation. Since then, she’s made me a lot of money. She’s the most popular girl we have, and it won’t bode well if I snap her little neck. I guess I’ll have to wait for an explanation from Cole before I take matters into my own hands. I can be mature. I can be patient. Kind of.

The clip changes to a dark-haired man putting his hand on Amy’s shoulder and her tensing up. Words are exchanged between her and the man, then the man and Cole. Then my man gets up from the barstool and throws the first punch. I can tell it hurts the stranger with the way he grimaces, and I grin. Cole has always been a fighter—always. He learned how to use his fists when he went to live with Luca. So why is it bothering me now? Is it because of the reason for the fight? Because it’s over a woman?

Cole stays in place as the man rights himself, and then the man is punching Cole back. It’s as if he doesn’t even see it coming—he must be really drunk—but he barely stumbles back a step. And even though I can’t make out what he tells the other man, I know Cole is trying to goad him. That is, until they’re permanently separated by the bar manager. Amy looks guilty, yet relieved, all at the same time. It makes me want to throttle her. Why the hell is Cole losing his shit over her?

I text Luca, letting him know to go to the brothel and pick up Cole, giving explicit instructions to not make any stops or detours. To bring him back home to me immediately. If Luca suspects something is going on, he hasn’t brought it up. He’s discreet, loyal, and values his life. I can admire that about him. I’m also grateful because the thought of explaining to someone where I stand with Cole when I don’t even know is nerve-wracking.

My hands begin to shake with my anxiety the longer I sit here, and I don’t really know what I’m so stressed about. Or maybe stressed isn’t the right word—scared is. I’m afraid this thing between Cole and I is over. What if he made up his mind and no longer wants to be with me? What if I’m putting my relationship with my son at risk for someone who isn’t even sure of me? But no, Cole has been persistent. He’s sure of me, I know it. Yet the thought of him changing his mind terrifies me.

I get up from the couch and begin to pace the length of the living room, going to the floor to ceiling windows and taking a peek out at the city. From this high up, it looks incredible. I don’t get a lot of time to admire it though because the elevator suddenly dings and the doors open.

Cole stumbles in, swaying roughly from side to side, and even though I don’t want to help him, I also don’t want him to fall on his face. I walk quickly toward him, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him to the couch. He plops down on it, and I stand in front of him, arms crossed over my chest. I wait for him to look at me, but he’s so wasted he can barely keep his eyes open. It pisses me the fuck off. But I find myself sitting on the couch next to him, then pulling his head down to my lap.

Cole goes down easily, pressing his cheek to my thigh and closing his arctic blue eyes. I thread my fingers through the soft strands of his hair, loving the way it feels, and he sighs. What would Matteo think if he came in right now and saw us like this? Would he suspect us? Or would he think I’m just being nice to Cole? I kind of want him to show up and put us out of our misery. I don’t want to lie or hide anymore. He’s the only person left to figure this out, and it needs to happen already. My life would be so much easier if I didn’t feel like a fucking traitor every minute of the day. I know I’d still be a traitor if Matteo knew, but at least I wouldn’t have to hide it anymore. I could be a traitor out in the open.

My fingers get stuck on a knot in Cole’s hair, and I gently loosen it and continue threading them through his hair. He hums, the vibration going up my legs, and I inhale sharply when he runs his hand over my thigh and rubs it.

“Baby,” Cole hums. “I missed you.”

“Sleep,” I reply stiffly. “Then we’ll talk.”

“I’m horny,” Cole grumbles, and I roll my eyes. “Help me.”

“You’re always horny,” I remind him, even though I want to choke him out and demand an explanation for what just happened at Luna’s Den. “Get some sleep.”

“Only if you promise to fuck me later.”

“I—” I shut my mouth. Will I fuck him later? It’s a good question. I can’t promise him anything. What if we break up because of this? What if he betrayed me? “Cole?—”

But he’s already snoring lightly, and my body deflates.

Thank God.

Iwake gradually, a headache looming in the distance, and realize my cheek is pressed to Emiliano’s lap. His hand is resting on my head, and deep, steady breaths are coming from him. I stay very still, not wanting to move yet, not wanting to alert him I’m awake. I know this is going to be an argument, and I’m not looking forward to it. I know I shouldn’t have initiated the fight, but the man really crossed a line. What kind of friend would I be if I let that slide?

Even so, I know Emiliano will more than likely be angry. What I did is not good for business, and he’ll probably order me to steer clear of that establishment for a while. I can’t blame him, and while it sucks, I can probably meet up with Amy outside of it. Plus, the fact I was drunk probably doesn’t help my situation with him. He’s always telling me to be in control—of my body, my emotions—and I definitely wasn’t. At the very least, he’ll be disappointed in me. I can’t say I blame him. Although I still wouldn’t change a thing.

Thankfully, I’m not drunk anymore. My head isn’t spinning, and I don’t feel like I’m going to be sick. I can also think clearly, which is great because I’m going to need every brain cell I possess for the conversation I’m about to have.

When I look at Emiliano over my shoulder, I see his eyes are closed, and he’s deep in slumber. The lamp on the end table is on, illuminating the room in a soft glow, and I get up. He feels my absence immediately, opening his eyes as soon as my back hits the cushions.

Emiliano looks at me with narrowed eyes, running a hand down his face, and my lips tip down in a frown. He turns his body toward me, his eyes still narrowed, and purses his lips. I just know he’s about to fight with me. I sigh.

“Get it out of your system,” I tell him, flinching back when he moves toward me. He scoffs. “I can tell you’re angry.”

“Angry?” he asks, and I close my eyes briefly and breathe in. I don’t want to fight with him right now, but I know it’s inevitable. “No, Cole. I’m fuckinglivid.”

“Why are you so pissed off at me?” I ask slowly. “I?—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarls, baring his teeth, and I can admit he’s intimidating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry. And really? Over a little fight? I don’t think it calls forthis. “You fought with a customer.”

“He touched Amy,” I snap. “He called her a whore and said she should make time for him.”

Emotions flit through Emiliano’s eyes in quick succession, too fast for me to make out any of them. But he doesn’t seem appeased by this. “And you just have to defend her honor?” he asks me, but it feels like it has some kind of hidden meaning I’m not aware of. “Cole, knight in fucking shining armor.”

I snort at that, and he practically growls at me. “Well, I guess I am.”

“Why, hmm?” he asks me. “Why are you so invested?”

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