Page 115 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
“Rest?” Marty’s eyes start to roll left and right. “What rest?”
“You know there’s more.” I exhale roughly. “In the mood I’m in, I’d love a chance to help you remember.”
“You can’t let him beat me! I’ve told you everything,” Marty says to Byron.
“You know, it’s funny…but I don’t believe you. You don’t look like an honest, upstanding type. More like a scumbag with the morals of a rattlesnake—or worse.”
“I’m not!” Marty screams. “I’m not a bad guy! I swear I’m not!” Tears spring in the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”
My blood chills. He isn’t faking this reaction. Guilt’s eating at him over something major. Is he the driver who ran Ivy’s car off the highway in Tempérane?
“I didn’t mean to do it.” He buries his face in his hands. “It was only supposed to drug her. Put her out of commission for a while. But she died. I didn’t think she’d die.”
“Who?” I demand. “Who did you kill?”
“That woman at your party.” Marty’s shoulders shake. “Dad told me it’d only incapacitate her.”
Shock ripples through me. Jill.
“You!” I snarl, fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. “You fucking murdered her!”
Tears leak from his eyes like water out of broken faucet. Drip, drip, drip. “I didn’t murder her! I didn’t mean it! She wasn’t supposed to die!”
I shake him, barely holding on to control. I want to destroy him, make him feel all the ugly emotions flowing through me, but that wouldn’t help. “Why did you do it?”
“He said she stole from us, and that she was going to fuck with our latest project. We only wanted her down for a bit, so we could get our investors back without somebody sabotaging us.”
I close my eyes briefly. I asked Elizabeth to use her influence to get people to pull out of the project. It wasn’t that difficult, either. But I can’t believe Sam blamed Jill. He had to know I was behind it, with or without Elizabeth’s help. Maybe Jill made a convenient target to vent his rage.
“You’re disgusting.” I look at Marty’s face, shiny with tears and snot. I shove him away.
He collapses on the floor, sobbing.
Byron’s pale. “I’m calling the cops.”
“Yeah, you should. He needs to pay for what he’s done.” And I’ll make sure he pays dearly.
