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CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

AMbrOSE

T he next day, I make the arrangements. It starts with a few snapshots of Mercy’s pretty face in low light, her hair mussed and hanging in her eyes.

“Shouldn’t I look more—messed up?” she says, looking over the pictures with me.

“Nah. I just need to show you’re still alive.” I kiss her temple. “These’ll work just fine.”

I make contact out in the barn, using one of the gas station cell phones I keep on hand. Mercy’s in the house, Max keeping her company. I’ve got Roxi, though, my hand pressing into her fur while I send the pictures via text, along with a single message:

I hear you’re looking for someone. Want to make a trade?

I toss the phone on my workbench and wait, stroking Roxi’s bristled fur. I don’t have to wait long.

Who is this ?

I grin, excitement sparking in my blood. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve had a proper hunt. I’ve missed it.

Who do you think?

Then I send a picture of Charlotte’s files, although I obscure the name and dates. Let him wonder which ones I stole.

I heard some interesting things about what you do with your adoptees.

I settle back in my lawn chair, feeling pleased with myself.

This time, the phone rings.

“Reverend Gunner,” I say when I answer.

“Who is this?” His voice is sharp. “What are you doing to Mercy?”

“Keeping her safe and sound.” I lean forward, my heart racing with excitement. “And you know who this. So, what do you say? Want to make a trade?”

“What do you want?”

“Two hundred fifty thousand dollars,” I say. “You give me that, and I’ll give you back Mercy. You don’t, I’ll make sure the FBI knows about the human trafficking the Church of the Well has been involved in.”

“You can’t prove that,” Gunner snarls. The terror and panic are clear in his voice, though.

“I can,” I say. “And unless you give me that two hundred and fifty thousand dollars tomorrow morning at 7 AM, I’ll prove it to the goddamn FBI. Texting you the coordinates. No fucking cops.”

“You think I’m stupid enough to go out there without police support?” he says.

“You want the girl or not?” I grin, relishing the tremble of fear in his voice. “Because I’ve already got everything I need to bring you down. If I see a cop out there, I’m shooting the girl in the head and you’ll still be fucked.”

“Who the hell are you?” Gunner demands. He sounds terrified. “Really?”

“Exactly who I told you.” I settle back in my chair, feeling pleased with myself. “Just an itinerant preacher doing the Lord’s work. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Reverend.”

I hang up before he can say anything. Then I send the coordinates over, as promised. It’s an area I know well, an area I’ve hunted in before: about forty minutes off-road from the Concho River. Middle of nowhere, hard to access. I’ve got a blind set up out there that can be our base of operations.

Time to free Mercy once and for all.

Sixteen hours later, I go hunting with my girl.

I didn’t let her see me loading up the car with weapons, but rest assured I packed the goddamn works: my favorite long-range rifle plus a bandolier of ammo, my whole set of hunting knives, my switchblade—which I keep in the holster at my ankle for sentimental reasons more than anything else—and an axe just in case I want a bigger blade. Plus ropes, some meat hooks, and a five-gallon bucket. Best to be prepared.

And Max and Roxi, of course. They sit in the backseat, tails thwapping the seats, as I drive us into the open desert. They know what we’re doing. Their sense of smell is almost as good as mine, and they can smell the bloodlust on me.

Good thing Mercy can’t. She’s nervous. I can sense that, too, radiating off her from the front seat.

“Hey.” I rub her bare knee—she’s in a pair of jean shorts that show off her long, muscular legs, with a loose, oversized white blouse that’ll keep the sun off her shoulders while she waits for Gunner to show up. “Don’t be nervous, all right? I’ll have sights on you the whole time.”

“I know.” She smiles weakly at me. “It’s not that. It’s just—” She sighs and looks out the windshield at the highway. The sun’s just starting to come up behind us, a thin pink line in the rearview mirror. We’re driving west, into the darkness. “What if it doesn’t work?” Her voice is quiet. “What if he doesn’t come, or he sends someone else?” She works the hem of her shirt, her anxiety spiking. “What if he sends the cops and I have to go back?—”

“I’ll shoot them.” I glance sideways at her. “You’re mine, remember? And I don’t let people take what’s mine.”

Mercy’s eyes glimmer. God, I want to kiss her. Tell her it’s going to be all right.

But I’ve got to focus on the upcoming hunt.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For doing this for me.”

I fix my eyes on the road and squeeze the steering wheel. “I’d do anything for you, Mercy.”

I realize what I just said, then add, “Well. Most anything.” I can’t not kill; that would lead to a darkness not even I want to think about. I don’t want to frighten her, though, so I just say, “But you can bet your pretty ass I’ll kill for you.”

Mercy laughs, kind of disbelieving. “You really are the boogeyman.”

“ Your boogeyman, baby. Now, take some deep breaths for me. We’re gonna be there before you know it.”

It’s not long before we reach the turn-off—a narrow, dusty road barely visible from the highway. My Oldsmobile groans as we crunch over the gravel, kicking up a plume of dirt that, thankfully, isn’t visible in the dim light of early dawn. Once we’re out of view of the highway, I pull off the road, parking the car between some scrub brush. The sky is streaked with pink and red, a bloody sunrise that bodes well for the hunt today.

“You should eat something before we hike out there,” I tell her, shutting off the engine. I made breakfast tacos this morning and wrapped them up in foil—egg and potato and cheese for her, egg and meat for me. “Get your energy up.”

“I’m too nervous to eat,” she says, still worrying her shirt hem.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” This car’s old enough that there’s no console between us, and I scoot closer and wrap my arm around her shoulders. “I told you I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“I know.” Mercy smiles at me, but she’s terrified. I’ve been smelling it the whole way here, a scent that’s got my blood up for the hunt. “I still don’t think I can eat.”

“Have some water, then. It’s gonna get hot once the sun comes up.”

That, at least, she agrees to, nodding a little. We get out of the car, and while I pull out the tacos and a bottle of water, she sits on the hood, facing the sunrise.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she says when I hand her the bottle. “I always liked watching the sun rise over the Concho.”

“It is pretty.” I want to tell her about all the sunrises I’ve seen in this desert, waiting for my prey to come across my path. Hundreds. Thousands, probably. But she’s already scared enough of me as it is, trembling with anxiety, and I don’t want to add to it.

She makes me soft, my little human. But maybe that’s not as bad as I thought it could be.

I eat my tacos quickly, wash them down with the last of the coffee I brought out in a Thermos. Mercy sips at her water, stewing in her thoughts, and I put my hand on her thigh and lean over to her, mostly so I can breathe in more of her scent. “You really need to drink that whole thing, darling. I don’t want you getting dehydrated.”

Mercy looks at me sideways, a smile dancing on her lips. “I like the way you worry over me. ”

I grin. “And why’s that?”

She shrugs and takes a big long swig of her water before answering. “Because no one ever has before.”

That stabs me like a knife. I almost want to call this whole damn thing off, toss her back in the car, and start driving south until we pass into Mexico. Just start over. Let her disappear and not have to put her through what I’m about to put her through.

But then she says, “All my life, the Gunners said they were protecting me.” She looks over at me, hair falling into her eyes and her lips wet from the water bottle. “That’s why they brought me into the church. But he was just shaping me into whatever he wanted. You’re—I know you’re a killer, but I feel like you actually want to protect me.”

Bloodlust surges through my veins. Not just at the thought of killing—but at the knowledge of who I’m killing. That I’m doing it for her.

“I do want to protect you.” I nuzzle against her neck, breathing her in. “And I’m going to.”

“What are you doing?” She laughs a little, and I just keep nuzzling at her.

“Getting your scent.” I kiss her pulse, then move up along her jawline. “I’m not gonna lose you out there, Mercy. I swear to you.”

“I know.” She winds her hands through my hair, holding me in place, and I bite down gently on her tender neck flesh, making her moan and shudder. It’s not enough for her to bleed, but it is enough for me to taste her.

“It’s almost time,” I whisper against her skin. Against her heartbeat. “Finish your water. And then we can set our trap.”