Page 35 of The Price of Mercy
I press the ice pack down a little harder. Mercy left that tiny detail out of her report about last night. “Did you?”
Zane blows out a breath. “Hard to say. I think I tried to.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I was wasted, Kane. I’m trying to forget.”
“Think harder.”
Pulling my hand away from his face, Zane frowns. “Why do you care? Isn’t this what you’ve been talking about?Sharing?”
Technically, yes, but… “I wish you would have told me that you were interested.”
His answer is immediate. “I’m not.”
Yeah, okay. Rather than press the issue, I move on. “They’re gonna go grab lunch. Groceries and shit. So we have the house to ourselves if you wanna…” I brush my knuckles down his arm. “Hang out.”
“You’re letting them leave?” Zane narrows his eyes at me. “Sam’s gonna run away with her.”
“Shouldn’t bother you,” I murmur. “You’ve wanted her gone since day one.” I run a hand through my hair and drop the ice pack onto the kitchen table. “But they’ll be back.” With a grin, I punch Zane’s arm. “I begged her to get me orange chicken.”
Along with rope, zip ties, and whatever else they can get their hands on at the one-stop shop next to the Chinese restaurant. There aren’t a lot of stores this far up the mountain, but they’ll manage, and then they’ll come skipping right back. After that taste of how good things can be for us when we work together, neither of them will be able to resist the possibility of more.
I just need to get Zane in on it, too. He’s close. Closer than I thought, if he’s drunkenly visiting her in the middle of the night. Sure, part of that could be murderous intent, but it’ll make everything that much hotter between them.
I’m almost jealous. She’s like putty in my hands, but in Zane’s?—
She’ll fucking melt.
Drugging Zane doesn’t feel right, but he started it. Crush up a few sleeping pills, and it’s surprisingly effective. Between the two of us, we go through half the bottle in the cabinet.
“He should be out for a few hours?” I turn the bottle over in my hand to check the label. “Maybe?” I don’t actually know how this shit works, but if he can slip pills into Mercy’s pasta—that Sam and I happened to chow down on after the fact—I can put a few in his wonton soup. Tit for tat. He shouldn’t be too mad.
It’s the bondage that’s gonna piss him off.
“Okay,” I breathe, carefully setting my boyfriend down in an armchair we moved into the master bedroom. “Hand me the rope.” Once I’m satisfied with my knot work, I brush his hair off his forehead and press a kiss there. Even unconscious, he’s really fucking pretty.
The next part of my plan is harder to pull off. “Sam.” Curling my finger, I beckon him closer. “Come here.”
As expected, he hesitates. But he’s moving slower than usual on account of the sleeping pills I slipped into his lo mein. Soup was easy—noodles were harder. When he stumbles, I throw an uppercut that hits him square in the jaw. Pain radiates down my arm, and I shake it out. “Damn, you’ve got a thick skull.”
“Kane!” Mercy pushes between us. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Payback, sweetheart.” The concern on her face is so adorable. “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna tie him up. He’ll be fine.”
“We’re not interrogating Sam!”
Sidestepping around Mercy, I hum in agreement. “We’re not, but I don’t want him getting any ideas while Zane can’t fight back.” I swipe the knife that Sam not-so-discreetly keeps in his pocket and toss it to Mercy. “Hold onto that for me.”
Tying Sam up is easier after I get a few more hits in and he staggers to the ground. I wrap the canopy curtains hanging over the bed around his wrists and use a few zip ties to securethem to the headboard. It’s not great work, but it’s good enough. Slapping Sam’s cheek, I grin.
This is gonna be fun.
My blood pumps hot through my veins as my plan comes to fruition before my eyes. Everything falls into place perfectly, and I have to stifle a groan at how goddamn exhilarating it feels. Is this why Zane’s always planning shit? Because he gets off on it? I might understand the appeal if this electrifying thrill is his normal. I feel one thousand percent alive… and we’re just getting started.
Now that Sam’s fully awake and aware, however, he’s aggravated to hell. “I willkillyou,” Sam hisses, flexing his muscles as he pulls at the restraints I lovingly tied around his wrists, “if she gets hurt.” The curtains on the bed wouldn’t hold him if I hadn’t double-looped them and added a few zip ties to the mix, but it’s sturdy enough for at least an hour. Plenty of time for Mercy to get every tantalizing question out of her system.
Still. My palms sweat as I test Zane’s binds for a third time and avoid eye contact. I’m breaking his trust to ensure we get answers. She’s the only one who can interrogate him the way I can’t. It’s silly, in a way. I’ve killed dozens of people—lovers, friends, genuinelynicepeople—and the one man I need to come clean is the one I don’t trust myself to touch.
