Page 91 of Broken Mercy
There’s a loud thump. It comes from above us like something big hit the ground. Mr. Davis looks to the door sharply and Mrs. Davis starts to get to her feet.
“There’s more!” I shout, shoving my face in my hands. “Oh god! He said these awful things… about my family… about your business…”
Mrs. Davis grunts in response. “Dicky, darling, maybe you should go see what’s keeping Patricia?”
“Yes, darling, I will.” He starts across the room.
“Wait, please!” I flail and accidentally kick over the teapot. It tumbles, getting more tea all over their pretty white rug.
Mrs. Davis hisses. “You idiot girl! Oh look at what you did. Patricia! Where the fuck is that moron?!”
“I’ll get her.” Mr. Davis storms to the door.
Panic hits me. I have to keep them both in this room. I don’t know what happened upstairs, but I’m guessing that sound has something to do with Brenden. If Mr. Davis catches him this whole operation was for nothing and Sam will get in trouble and Arsen will know what we did and nothing will keep any of us safe?—
“I think I feel the baby kicking!” I cry, gripping my stomach. I stagger toward Mr. Davis. “Oh god, please!”
Mr. Davis hesitates. “The baby’s… kicking?” His nose wrinkles and he turns to his wife. “Is that even possible?”
“How far along are you, dear?” She studies me, frown deep. That false politeness is all gone. There’s no care in her expression anymore, only a predator’s anger. “And when did you say this little… event with Peter happened?”
“And aren’t you married? To that man… what’s his name?” Mr. Davis eyes me, suspicion written all over him.
Well, shit. My story’s falling apart.
“It was a mistake.” I put a hand to my belly and stumble away from them, the other hand pressed to my forehead. “What a foolish mistake… I’ve been so unhappy! You can’t imagine the pain I’ve been in! Then there was Peter like a knight in shining armor. He was charming and kind at first, and here I am, just a vulnerable fool?—“
“Wait a second.” Mr. Davis grabs my arm. His grip is surprisingly strong and for the first time since coming here, I wonder if I’m actually in physical danger. I had assumed these two ancient, withered husks wouldn’t be a problem, but there’s a real power in the way he’s holding me. “You’re sayingPeter, ourgrandson, wascharming? Again, when exactly did you two have your affair?”
“Darling, something feels off about this. Why don’t you go check on Patricia?”
“Actually, maybe we should call this girl’s father. Wouldn’t Haik be interested in this story?”
I don’t have to fake the terror. I shake my head wildly. “Don’t call Papa. Please, I’m begging you!”
“Are you really fucking pregnant?” Mr. Davis’s grip tightens painfully. “Or is this some trick you and your thief husband came up with to rob us?”
“He made me do it!” I say frantically, trying to pull away. “We need the money, that’s all! Peter told me to come here and spin this story! Please, don’t hurt me! Oh and don’t hurt the baby!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Mrs. Davis says, throwing her hands in the air. “This is ridiculous.”
“You thought you could fool us.” Mr. Davis lets me go. I stagger back, rubbing my shoulder. “You came here and debased yourself in front of us for a pathetic ten thousand dollars? What is going on in the Sarkissian household? I was bluffing about calling your father before, but now I think I really might.”
Time to go. I’m supposed to wait for my phone to buzz, but I can’t hang around anymore. I have to hope Brenden’s done or nearly done and he’ll be able to get out on his own.
“Papa doesn’t give a shit about you two nasty old freaks.” I shove past Mr. Davis, knocking him into a sideboard. He grunts in pain as it rams into his hip. I’m tempted to hit him again, but he’s rounding on me. “You’re both sick and I hope you rot in hell!”
“Bitch!” Mr. Davis lunges for me, but I’m already running. I careen into the hallway, turning toward the back. Mr. Davis follows, Mrs. Davis wailing for Patricia again.
I angle to the kitchen. I can’t do the front door since Arsen’s watchers are probably back. Instead, I yank open the sliding glass door, surprised at how familiar the layout is, but I was here not that long ago. The garden party, meeting Brenden in the office—we’ve gone through a lot together in this place.
It almost makes me nostalgic.
“Nasty slut!” Mr. Davis screams as I haul ass toward the back fence.
Brenden
“Nasty slut!”
