Page 88 of Broken Mercy
Mrs. Davis’s gaze never leaves mine. It’s disturbing. “Now, darling, why did you show up on my doorstep this evening,hmm? Patricia mentioned something about Peter? That young boy is always such trouble. I do hope he hasn’t done anything… untoward.”
I look down at my cup, cradling it in both hands. The sides are warm, almost too hot. Mrs. Davis takes a loud, nasty sip as my shoulders slump.
“I hate coming here like this. I really do, but I don’t know where else to go. My father… you know him… he’s very conservative… and my family…”
I swear, her smile stretches to lizard-like proportions. “It’s okay, darling. You’re safe.” She puts her hand on my knee.
I almost gag. Yeah fucking right.
“Peter…”
“Yes? Go on?”
“Well, him and me…”
“It’s okay. You can say it.”
I let out an ugly sob and spill my tea on the floor. “He got me pregnant!”
Brenden
I vaultthe back fence and land heavily on top of a bush.
It’s not pretty. In my head, I’d swoop over like a professional and gracefully drop to my toes, head already on a swivel searchingfor enemies, but instead I have to roll awkwardly from a bunch of prickly branches. I come up cursing my bad luck and only belatedly scan the yard.
Same place as the garden party from what feels like forever ago. Now the folding tables and tents are gone, leaving behind a lot of open space between here and the house. I hesitate, mentally going over the map I made of the surrounding area, before slipping along the edge of the yard toward the back windows.
Tallie’s inside. I saw her go in before coming around. The Sarkissian thugs will be watching again very shortly if they keep to their usual pattern. I have maybe five minutes to get in before I risk being spotted. Problem is, I don’t know where the old bastards are right now.
Can’t hesitate. This is part of what it means to be a thief. All my planning, all my quiet, meticulous, careful thought and mapping and calculating, it all disappears on the day and I find myself improvising half this shit anyway.
What’s the old saying? Everyone’s got a plan until they get punched in the face? Consider my face fucking knocked out.
I reach the drain pipe I planned on scaling. It’s cast iron and bolted directly into the masonry, which is lucky for me, since it doesn’t make any noise when I get my fingers underneath. I drag myself up, going faster than is safe, but the back door opens and a woman steps out.
She’s ten feet below. My arms shake as I grip the drain pipe tightly. The woman’s got sandy blond hair and sighs as she lights a cigarette. “Fucking crazy bitch,” she mutters, taking several quick drags. “I swear to Christ, I’m going to kill them one day… and this new girl… can you believe it? Another straycat… I wonder which of the nightmare grandsons hit this one…” She keeps smoking as I cling to the wall, praying for her to be finished. I didn’t plan on getting stuck here where anyone might see me. If she looks up… if she wants to gaze at the pretty sunset…
I’ll be fucked.
Instead there’s an ugly shriek from inside the house, like a bat getting stabbed with a fork.
The woman stubs out her cigarette and hurries back inside.
I instantly start climbing again, sweat slicking my hands. My shoulders and wrists tremble, but I make it to the porch roof. I hop off, scurry across, and reach a window. It’s locked, but I brought a thin metal tool that easily fits under the sill. I use some force to get the latch undone and find myself falling in face-first and landing on a plush carpet.
Guest room. Clean bed. Lots of floral accents. I leave the window open—I’ve learned too many times that a quick escape is usually necessary and I don’t want to be fumbling while trying to run. There’s another shriek from downstairs and I hurry to the door, cracking it open?—
Right as that same woman walks past.
She’s not paying attention. I resist the urge to slam the door shut, but that would only draw her eye. Instead, I hear her soft but insistent voice, muttering something about following her and a problem in the parlor. Moments later, she’s walking past again, this time with Mr. Davis on her heels.
I grin to myself. God damn Tallie. I knew she was a dream, but this is even better than I could’ve envisioned. I don’t knowexactly what she’s saying down there, but she’s clearly selling the story, and that’s all I need.
Once the hallways empty, I sneak into the house.
Tallie
“DICKY! GET DOWN HERE!”Mrs. Davis’s shrill shriek leaves my ears ringing as I sob into my hands. Sweat rolls down my back and I’m not sure if it’s nerves or how damn hot this house is. “There, there, it’ll be okay—DICKY! GET DOWN?—“
