Page 79 of Shades of Mercy

He reached into the drawer, and this time he took out what looked like a contraption a kid would put together in art class. She looked closer and realized it was a bomb.

He pressed a button.

“What are you doing, Howie? Don’t do this?” Fear raced through her.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You have about sixty seconds to get out the back door and run, as fast as you can, before I blow this sum’bitch up. Pray I take Cross and his men with me.”

She stared in disbelief as the SUV's tires grew louder outside.

“Howie, please,” she begged.

“You’re a kind woman and the smartest one I've ever met. Now take that chip and get the hell out of here.”

A door slammed outside.

She realized Howie had made up his mind.

She raced down the hallway, into the kitchen, and felt her stomach drop. The door was barricaded with two-by-fours.

She scanned the dilapidated room and saw that one of the windows was open. The screen was ripped as if someone had entered that way a few times.

Hearing the screech of the front door open, she climbed out onto the back porch as quietly as possible.

Mercy didn’t have time to think where she was going. She ran. Fast.

She didn’t get far before she heard the powerful engine of one of the Escalades coming toward her. There was nowhere for her to go. Eventually, she couldn’t hear anything but the sound of her heart beating faster.

She remembered Jag telling her,Sometimes a hunted person must stop and become the hunter.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw a man barreling down on her. It was Cross’s bodyguard.

No way could she outrun him.

She stopped, taking the taser from her pocket. It was her only chance.

He was panting and out of breath by the time he got close. “You’re going to pay for making me run, bitch.”

She looked past the man’s shoulder and saw Cross coming toward them. His smile spoke volumes about how proud he was of himself.

“Well, well, well. You aren’t as smart as Howie made you out to be—”

A loud blast filled the air. The house exploded, sending debris flying. The force of the bomb knocked Mercy to the ground onto her back, nearly knocking her out.

Moaning, she lifted onto one elbow. The house was engulfed in flames.

It took all her strength to push herself to her feet.

The bodyguard was also on the ground, shaking his head as if trying to regain his bearings.

“Get her!” Cross yelled from where he lay on the grass. Blood was oozing from a wound on his head.

The bodyguard wobbled to a weak stand. He, too, had suffered minor injuries.

Mercy took backward steps. She no longer had the taser. It lay on the ground, out of her reach, between her and the thug.

The putrid smell of the old house burning seared Mercy’s nostrils.

She felt sick. Her head hurt. She couldn’t think clearly.