Page 120 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
“Still, we should check.”
We should, even though it’s probably nothing. He has to be dead sure before he’ll give up on finding the recording.
He disappears into the storage closet and brings out a set of small screwdrivers. His hands are rock solid as he undoes the bottom of the box. The only thing that betrays his nerves is the tension in his face.
I stand behind him and place a hand on his shoulder to let him know that no matter what comes out of the box, we’re solid. Whatever Margot did has nothing to do with him—or my love for him.
The screws come out and the bottom comes off. Tony peers inside, then takes a pair of chopsticks and carefully pulls something small, flat and black out.
Curious, I lean forward and squint at it. “What is that?” I’ve never seen something like it before. It’s too small to be a memory card I use with my camera.
“MicroSD card.” Bobbi whistles. “Guess Sam did send you something after all.”
My heart starts pounding. For some bizarre reason, I feel like Pandora.
How bad can it be? It isn’tyour embarrassment or humiliation on that card.
But I’m freaking out anyway. The little card somehow seems malevolent.
“How do you listen to it?” I smooth my dress, hoping the gesture will calm my nerves. “It doesn’t fit into any kind of laptop slot, does it?”
Bobbi opens her hand, and Tony places the card on her palm. She pops a tiny cover over a slit on the side of her phone and pushes the microSD card in.
“Are you sure you want do this?” I ask, because I’m definitely not. Something tells me whatever’s on the memory card isn’t going to be pretty. I don’t want Tony hurt.
“Yes,” he says. “But if you’d rather not, I understand. You don’t have to be here.”
“Better if you both are here,” Bobbi says. “It might impact both of you.”
My mouth goes dry. I’m resisting because whatever’s on the card isn’t going to matter. I’m not going to blackmail Margot, and whatever it is isn’t going to change my feelings for Tony. Basically, the recording has no meaning or use to me.
But at the same time, she is Tony’s mother, even if he’s been disowned. And that means whatever concerns them concerns me. “Okay.”
Bobbi taps her phone a few times. “One MP3 file. Ready?”
Tony nods. I do the same.
Bobbi taps the screen and places the phone on the table.
The file starts playing.
White noise comes from the speaker. After a moment, I recognize it as rainfall. Almost torrential. There seems to be a bit of wind hissing as well.
A storm.I shudder. I hate storms.
Sam’s voice comes on. He clears his throat first. “All I’ve got to make this project work is for Margot to invest five hundred K. I haven’t figured out an angle yet, but I’m sure something will present itself.”
This must be one of the files he made on his beloved Dictaphone. He always recorded his thoughts there, saying it was more reliable and better than the recording apps on his phone.
My gaze slides toward Tony, who’s sitting there as tense and hard as a boulder. I hope, for his sake, that the file contains more than Sam’s rambling thoughts.
Tires travel wetly on pavement somewhere, not close enough to be distinctive, but close enough to be caught by the Dictaphone’s microphone.
“This weather’s shit, and it doesn’t look like any fish are biting. Just my luck.”
Suddenly, metal crunches and tires squeal.
I flinch, my heart racing. The sound reminds me of the close call Tony and I had outside Julie’s apartment.
