Page 24 of Shades of Mercy
The room felt warm and stuffy. The green carpet resembled a sixties relic, with many fibers worn down to the mat. As he turned on the air conditioning and the noisy fan whirred to life, she remained by the door, fixated on the bed.
He must have read her mind.
“They didn’t have any rooms with two beds.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“If you’re worried that I can’t keep my hands to myself, I assure you I'll be out once my head hits the pillow. It’s been a long day.”
What he didn’t know was that she wasn’t sure she could keep her hands to herself.
When she continued to stare, he sighed.
“How about we call it a night?”
“Wonderful.” The sooner she got to sleep, the sooner they could leave the room. “I’d like to go take a shower.”
“Are you asking for permission?” he grumbled.
“No, I’m not asking for permission.”
She unzipped her bag, took out some clothing, and headed into the bathroom, which looked like the rest of the place. Rundown and sad.
At least the water was hot.
While she stood under the spray, she figured out she was being negative. It was hard to like anything when the events of the day weren’t so bright.
However, the truth was that she’d gotten herself into this mess.
Suck it up, buttercup.
Chapter Seven
Jag kicked off his boots, scooted onto the bed and propped his back against a pillow. He listened to the running water in the next room and felt regret flow into his chest.
Maybe not regret, but what was it?
He'd known Mercy for almost as long as he knew Mateo.
Their first meeting still haunted him.
Mateo had invited Jag to a weekend getaway at the lake during leave before SOI. During that time, he met Mercy. He snuck away to catch a peek at the water and that was when he saw her reading on a rock near the lake’s edge. He stood there for the longest time, mesmerized by her beauty, how the ends of her coiled hair whipped around in the wind beneath the obnoxiously wide-brimmed hat. Her white shirt was open in the front, revealing a neon pink bikini, and Jag instantly noticed how long and toned her legs were.
The sun had hit her face just right, making her look almost angelic or a figment of his imagination. He had no idea who she was, yet he would have sacrificed anything, including his next breath, to meet her.
She was so focused on the book that she didn’t hear him approach until he was right up on her. She’d whipped off her sunglasses, revealing the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Made even bluer by the bright sunlight.
Transfixed by her, he’d missed her miffed expression.
“I’m reading,” she’d said with a tilted head.
Days out of Marine boot camp, she was the best thing he’d seen in weeks so she could have struck him over the head with a tire iron and he probably would have missed the cues that she didn’t want to be bothered.
“What are you reading?” he’d asked.
She’d held up the book to show him the cover. “Jane Austen. I’m guessing you have no clue who she is.”
He chuckled. “It’s a beautiful day.” It didn’t too long to realize she had a bit of a smartass personality. Not in a mean way…but a teasing way.
