His tone stabbed her heart. “You can’t mean that.” His gaze focused on her coffee, and she wished he’d look at her.
“For a long time I didn’t think you were lucky. I was pissed at you and I was glad that the fighting in the family stopped once you left, but then I resented you for escaping.”
If he’d slapped her, she couldn’t have been more shocked. “Nothing’s keeping you here. Why resent me?”
“I was stuck. I had Kaylie and her mom to deal with. I didn’t have the open road that you did.”
“Open road?” Anger flew up her throat. “I was shoved out the door and told to not come back. My father told me I was wrong. My choice was to live under his rules or leave. That’s no fucking open road!”
He cringed, but he looked her in the eye. “I know that. I can see it now. But back then I just wanted out too. This isn’t how I pictured my life.”
Mercy scanned the coffee shop. “It looks like a pretty damned fine life to me. You’ve got a beautiful daughter and a great business supplying crack to your buyers.” She met his gaze. “It appears peaceful.”
Levi looked at the room with pride. “Kaylie did most of it. She’s got a knack for making something sort of awesome out of a pile of junk.” He glanced at Mercy. “She’s a lot like you.”
Mercy didn’t know what to say. She’s obsessive? She can’t turn her brain off?
“Dad was wrong to put you in such a hard place.” His Adam’s apple moved up and down. “I told him he’d fucked up. But I told him too late. You were long gone. He has his pride. He’ll never admit he made a mistake.”
Mercy sat silently. It was probably the closest she’d ever feel to being vindicated.
It felt empty. Pointless.
For years she’d wanted to tell her family, “You’re making a mistake,” and Levi had just admitted it.
It didn’t heal her soul-deep ache.
She sipped her drink, not tasting it, dumbfounded that Levi’s words hadn’t healed her years of guilt.
Nothing’s changed.
I’m still estranged from half my family. I’ve lost years I’ll never get back.
“It’s a delicate balance here, Mercy,” Levi said. He rubbed a cuticle with his thumbnail and she noticed all his cuticles were red and swollen. “Everything is about status and power. The fact that Dad and Joziah Bevins can exist in the same town is due to a lot of hard work and careful words.”
She thought of Daisy the cow.
Levi didn’t look her in the eye as he picked at the cuticle. The ugly undercurrents that she’d felt as a teenager in Eagle’s Nest were still here. Nothing had changed. People cared only about protecting their own asses.
Bells jingled and she felt a rush of cool air from outdoors hit her back. She tensed, realizing her back was exposed to whoever had walked in, but Levi stood and instantly transformed into Happy Coffee Dude. “Hey, guys, how’s it going?”
He glanced at Mercy and raised a questioning brow.
She didn’t know what her brother wanted. He headed behind the coffee bar, asking the men who’d entered what they would like to drink. Four men in heavy boots plodded past her, their coats dotted with misting rain. The smells of wet dirt and fresh air followed in their wake. Mercy studied their backs and listened to her brother’s patter. He called them all by name. Craig, Mike, Ray, Chuck. Between coffee orders, Levi continued to shoot her the same questioning look.
One of the men turned and gazed at her over his shoulder. It took her a full two seconds to recognize him.
Mike Bevins.
Levi was asking if I want them to know who I am.
Mike broke off from the group and strode toward her with his hand outstretched. “You’re one of the FBI agents in town, aren’t you? We appreciate you taking a look into these murders. Our whole town has been rattled.” She stood and shook his hand.
No recognition in his eyes.
Relief flowed through her, along with a bit of annoyance. Mike had hung out with Owen in his youth. Apparently the youngest Kilpatrick sibling had been beneath his notice.
She gave an automatic smile. “We’re doing what we can.” Behind him she saw the other three men turn to note the exchange. She recognized Craig Rafferty but couldn’t place the other two men.
The one named Chuck strolled over with his huge coffee cup. His dark eyes studied her over the lid as he took a sip. “Cops in coffee shops. How’s that for a stereotype?”
She wanted to kick him in the side of the kneecap. Hard.
“Just like ranch hands in Wranglers and boots,” she replied. She touched her upper lip. “You’ve got foam on your moustache. I guess you ranching guys don’t drink your coffee black anymore.” She winked at him with a sly grin. “I like hazelnut syrup too.” Gag.
Mike grinned and elbowed the other man. “Watch out, Chuck. She’s onto you.”
Anger flashed in Chuck’s eyes and he turned his back.
“Ignore him.” Mike Bevins was still smiling.