Page 28 of The Count
We both knew it wouldn’t be, not with the girls’ voice still ringing in our heads. She fidgeted and I watched her out of the corner of my eye. Fidgeting wasn’t something she used to do, but it was time for me to admit this Mercy wasn’t the same woman I’d once known everything about. And not the same as the woman I researched who hid behind her designer labels and attitude.
I considered that. Lord knew I wasn’t the same man. Could I hold her accountable for the sins committed by a girl? Did I want a way out of dealing punishment for her part in my betrayal? And why? I stared out the window, hoping the night might provide answers. We pulled up to the gala hotel, I climbed out, and waited by her door to take her arm. She didn’t put up a fight about it tonight. Interesting.
We entered a glittering crowd. Jewels and big wallets stood corner to corner. Men and women I knew from both my legal investments, and my other enterprises. Her gaze snagged on a few individuals, and even lingered on a tall man by the bar. One I’d seen in newspapers or magazines at some point. Did she recognize him, or know him?
We found our table and sat down. She shifted in her seat to give her the best view of the room and I appreciated her tactics. “See anything?” I asked.
She gave me a nonchalant shrug I knew she kept something back. I didn’t press, resolving to simply watch and wait for her to give herself away.
The crowd closed in. We sat through pretentious speeches including one from our host. When dinner came, I took several deep breathes and watched for my plan to slip into place. It started at the table next to me. A couple of older women pointed out a girl by the bar. Not dressed right, not standing right, her very existence an offense to them.
The whispering began as a couple more women were pointed out.
“What’s going on?” Mercy asked, dragging me from my surveillance. She could feel the undercurrent of the unease wafting through the air.
I stood, buttoned my jacket, and held out my hand. “Let’s dance.”
She scanned my face and took my hand with no argument.
While we swayed on the floor I pressed my mouth to her ear. “Did you notice the girls?”
She nodded softly.
“They are like the ones we met with recently. And by this time tomorrow night, there will be an investigation started against Villefort and his involvement in a certain human trafficking ring.”
“And what did you do here?”
We turned so she could see the girls now flirting with men around the room. “I offered them a lot of money and protection to come here tonight. They want justice as much as I want revenge.”
Her gaze drifted to the tall man again.
“You know him.” I said.
She turned away, focusing on another area of the room. “No, just recognize him from the news is all. I thought the height was faked. Guess not.”
I memorized his features but didn’t question her further.
She dropped her hands down my chest and stopped the dance. “I’m going to get a drink.”
While she sauntered away gaining more than a few stares I skirted the floor and kept an eye on her. She didn’t try to talk to the tall man but something had her spooked. And women like Mercedes Mondego didn’t spook easily.
I took up a position near a pillar and watched. She bought a drink, tipped the bartender, and walked away. The entire transaction seemed innocuous. While she ventured to the table I went to the bar. That’s when I saw the tiny slip of paper addressed to someone named Ashley. I locked eyes with the bartender to warn him off and scanned the note.
Continue as directed.
I replaced the note and dropped another tip in his glass. Now I needed to see who picked up the message. As suspected, the tall man approached, took the slip, and wandered away. Betrayal threatened to claw through me. Raging that it happened again. I’d let her in, and she’d sell me out all over.
I scanned the crowd, searching for her but I didn’t see her anywhere. I waited near the restrooms for an undignified amount of time. Then I asked the doorman who remembered she walked out ten minutes ago.
Mercy left me.
Eleven
Mercy
I’d made some pretty stupid choices in my life. I owned more regrets than I could keep track of. But none of it compared to the fear which spiked through me as I walked away from The Gala Hotel. Almost immediately, I wanted to go back, beg his forgiveness. But watching him read my foolhardy message and connect the pieces scared me. When I can’t think around fear, I run from it.
But this time, where did I go? Nowhere I hid would keep me safe from him if he wanted to find me. And in true Stockholm style, I wasn’t sure I wanted away. I walked, my heels echoing in the dark. My feet were starting to ache, and regret sat weighty on my shoulders.
