In his peripheral vision, Cain saw Payne’s fist swing toward his face, saw the flash of one of those rich-man rings that looked pussy no matter who wore it. That was gonna hurt. Payne’s fist impacted with Cain’s temple. The lights blinked out, then came on blazing even brighter than normal. That one hit was going to be the only blow the guy delivered.
Cain swung with every ounce of force he possessed, landing a gut punch that whoofed the air out of the guy as loudly as a dog barking. He grabbed Payne by the shirt and tossed him into the corner where the guy ricocheted off the wall and slumped to the floor, clutching his stomach.
No mercy. No fucking mercy. Cain was on top of him in less than a second. He raised his fist, then shot it toward that too-perfect nose. The impact crushed his knuckles and crunched the cartilage. He lifted his hand and served the guy another one. This time, he felt warmth coating his knuckles. Blood. His mind slid sideways into that part of him that was his father’s son.
He closed his eyes, slammed his fist downward, connected with some meat on the guy, and lost himself in the rhythmic heartbeat of blood and punching. Punching and blood. The smell of it flowed into him. He inhaled deep swallowing breaths.
The impossibly small sound of rustling fabric penetrated the blood trance.
Mercy.
Mac.
He shoved off Payne. The guy lay there unmoving, unconscious, his complexion looking like a series of burst hemorrhoids. Assface. Yeah, good name.
Mercy knelt over Mac, one hand pressing the material of her ripped sweatshirt over his wound, the other holding the gun.
Cain tried to stand to go to her—to Mac—but the lights dimmed and a heaviness weighed down his limbs. That chunk of skin between his neck and shoulder burned, and his head throbbed from the bell-ringing Assface had delivered. He crawled toward Mercy.
She lifted the gun, aiming at him. Her hand steady as a surgeon’s. Her eyes cold and blank.
“Mercy, no. It’s me. I won’t hurt you.” Everything he’d tried to do—save her from Assface, save her from himself by leaving—none of it worked. None of it. And here he was, exactly where he never wanted to be again. The object of her terror. Except she was in a place beyond terror. A place of resignation. A place where she found strength. He wouldn’t take that away from her.
“Do it. Pull the trigger.” Cain hadn’t expected those words to come out his mouth. Didn’t know why they came out. But somehow they felt right. He’d been breathing heavily, but now his body calmed. He closed his eyes and spread his arms wide, giving her a larger target. “Just fucking do it.”
And then he heard the shot..
For more Abbie Roads
check out the Fatal Truth series
Saving Mercy
On sale April 2017
Acknowledgments
Dan: You are my first, last, and always thank-you. The thank-you that transcends all thank-yous and goes into the realm of the down-on-my-knees in gratitude that you’re my best friend, my favorite human being, and my husband.
Brinda Berry: What would I do without you? I owe you so much! You’re always there to read last-minute pages, you always offer the best advice, and I seriously don’t know how you put up with all my dumb questions. Thank you so much for everything you do for me. And a super, huge, special THANK-YOU for writing the song “Infinite” that Lathan and Evanee use as their wedding vows. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it a million times—you’re a talented song writer, a great author, and an even better friend.
Margie Lawson: At the end of my first Immersion with you, I remember sitting in the Denver airport staring out at the tarmac, debating whether to trash this entire novel. I realized the only way this book would be publishable was if I rewrote the entire thing, when I had already spent a year writing and editing it. The things I learned from you were not quick fixes. They were quality fixes. That’s when I adopted the mantra “quality over quantity.” I loved the story Lathan and Evanee wanted to tell so much that I decided to rewrite the book. Thank you for that first Immersion. Because of you and what I learned from you, I got my agent and my editor. A thank-you will never be enough. But thank you anyway!
Michelle Grajkowski: Oh, Michelle! You became my agent after judging this novel in the Four Seasons Contest. Thank you so much for taking me on and always believing in me and my dark writing. You really are a super awesome agent lady!
Sourcebooks: Wow. Thank you to all those people who work behind the scenes to make this book come together. Thanks to Rachel Gilmer, Emily Chiarelli, Laura Costello, Susie Benton, and Diane Dannenfeldt. Beth Sochacki—thanks for all your hard work getting my books out there. I appreciate it! A super special THANK-YOU to my editor, Deb Werksman, for always forcing me to stretch my writing muscles to make my books the best they can be. Another super special THANK-YOU to Dawn Adams and Kris Keller for making a SPECTACULAR cover! You two are magic! I love you both for giving my covers so much awesomeness!
Kimberly Meyer and Celeste Easton: You both suffered through the worst versions of this novel—the make-your-eyeballs-bleed versions—and never complained. Your insights and critiques were invaluable. Thank you both!
Christina Delay, Jen Savalli, Kathleen Groger, and Brinda Berry (yes—she deserves to be mentioned twice): Thanks so much for taking the time to critique this. Your suggestions made this book what it is!
Dreamweavers: Way back in 2014, when we were Golden Heart Finalists, many of you read this book when it was in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest. Your praise and encouragement back then was invaluable. Thanks so much for always being the best, most talented, most supportive group of writers!
You: When I first started writing, it seemed like an impossible dream that I would ever have a published novel and that anyone would ever read it. Thank you for making my dreams come true. Without you, my books are nothing. Stay tuned for my next novel—Saving Mercy—the first book in my Fatal Truth series.
About the Author