Save Me Page 4
“Have a seat,” he instructed when she came into his kitchen.
“I’d rather stand.” She folded her arms in front of her.
“Look Mercy,” Marc rubbed his face, “I don’t blame you for being upset, for hating me, but there’s nothing else I can say other than I’m truly sorry. I wish I’d never taken that race that night. I wish I could have swapped places with you and I would have in an instant.”
Tears dripped down her face, but she didn’t acknowledge them.
“Marc, please. Just tell me the truth.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“Fuck you!” Mercy pushed him roughly. “I fucking hate you!” She pushed him harder repetitively.
“Mercy, stop,” Marc said ever so calmly.
On her last push, Mercy lost her balance and fell down roughly. As she did, her prosthesis came out of place. The sight of her metal leg on the floor unnerved Marc. Mercy pulled herself back to a sitting position and leaned against his lower cupboards, her head leaned onto her knee.
“You never came.” She pulled her head up and looked at him with pained eyes.
“What?”
“You promised to come to the hospital. You left me for dead just like whoever the hell did this to me.”
“I didn’t leave you.” Marc knelt down beside her. “Jesus Christ, I got arrested.”
“You never came to the hospital. I was in the hospital and then rehab for more than four months, never once did you even try. You didn’t care. Just like the man who hit me.”
“I did care.”
“Bullshit.” Mercy wrapped her arms around her knee.
“How kindly would the police have looked at me trying to see you?”
“Just an excuse. Another damn excuse. You’re the key to this puzzle that plagues me day in and day out. It consumes me. I wish it didn’t, I really do, but it does. And I can’t get closure until I confront him. Why won’t you help me?”
Marc put his hand on her shoulder. He half expected her to deck him, but she didn’t.
“I’m not a good person Mercy. And these people I race with, they’re even worse. I wish I was a better man, but I’m not.”
“You were a good man when you stayed with me.”
Marc leaned his head back against the cupboards.
“I’m sorry I was involved that night, I’m sorry that piece of shit trooper took me away from you, I’m sorry I didn’t coming looking for you, and I’m sorry that I can’t give you the answers you’re looking for.”
She looked at him with those beautiful green eyes that cut through him. “I hate you.”
“I don’t blame you.”
Mercy stared at him coldly.
“You’re not the man I thought you were.”
Marc knew what he was. But hearing it from her made him feel a lesser man. Marc tore his eyes from her.
“I told you I’m not a good man.” He was a Tiburon, the very definition of bad.
“But you could be.” She rubbed the tears from her cheeks.
“If you only knew.” Marc looked at the tile kitchen floor. “I made my choice in life when I was very young, now I have to pay the consequence.”
“What does that mean?”
“It mean you should go back home to Bellview and forget meeting me, forget that night, even if it enrages you, you’ll be safe.”
“You think you’re protecting me, but I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me!”
Marc inhaled deeply.
“Mercy,” Marc took her hand in his as he had the day of the accident. “You live a good life. You graduated from Cambridge, you’re the CEO of your father’s multi-million dollar business, you’re an accomplished marathoner.”
“You researched me?”
“I wanted to know if you were okay. I read the articles in your local newspaper. You’re an amazing woman. But, you don’t understand the world you’re trying to break into. This isn’t Bellview.”
“I can handle it.”
Marc shook his head.
“Please,” she looked at him with pleading eyes, “I’m begging you.”
Marc needed to change the conversation.
“Let’s get you off this cold floor.”
“I don’t care about—”
Marc put one arm under her knee, the other around her back and lifted her. She was lean and it caused no strain to carry her.
“What are you doing?” she asked shocked.
Marc carried her to the living room couch without explanation, lowered her gently, and then retrieved her prosthesis. Mercy blushed. He knelt down in front of her and pushed her pant leg up to her stump. Mercy seemed too shocked to react. Marc slid it onto her leg and Mercy fit it securely in place. Marc saw the confusion he was causing her. He pulled her pant leg back down covering her prosthesis.
“Thank you,” she said with emotion.
Marc sat down on the couch beside her.
“I don’t know what else I can do for you, Mercy.”
“Tell me.”
Marc reached for her hand again and held it between his, running his thumb back and forth across the back of her palm.
“I’m only doing this to protect you. Protect both of us.”
“I don’t want your protection.”
Mercy pulled her hand, but Marc didn’t let go. Jose had gotten away with the hit and run. The only witness to the accident was Marc, so if any information got back to the police that Jose was the culprit, Ace would know exactly where it came from. You don’t rat out your brothers. Even though Marc didn’t consider any of the gang as that title.
“What am I supposed to do?” Mercy asked.
Damn her eyes. They looked straight through his heart.
“Go home.”
“You owe me.” Her voice shook. “You’re a part of this.”
“Mercy, not everything is black and white. Not everything is clear cut. You could get hurt. The man who did this isn’t willing to go to jail for it. His criminal history will assure him hard time behind bars. He’ll do what’s necessary to make sure he doesn’t go back to prison.”
“What are you saying? They’ll hurt me?” She laughed as though the idea wasn’t a possibility.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
She looked at him stunned.
“I won’t let them hurt me.”
“You’re cute,” Marc smiled, “and clearly have no appreciation for how the underworld works.”
“What are you, a drug dealer?”
Marc had been pulled into making drops for Ace. His primary function was as a driver and legal assistance, but yes, in fact, he was a dealer again.
Marc didn’t answer her.
“You’re really a dealer? Are you kidding me?” Mercy rose to her feet.
Marc again didn’t answer.
“And the people the detective saw you with…you’re in a gang.”
Silence.
“Oh my god…” Mercy trailed off.
“I warned you, I’m not a good man.”
Mercy took a step back putting space between them. Marc didn’t want space between them. All he wanted was to pull her in his arms. Hold her. Let her know how truly sorry he was. Tell her everything was okay, even though it plainly wasn’t.
“But you could be.” She took a step back toward him. “That’s your decision to make.”
“Mercy, it doesn’t work that way.”
“It’s your life, YOU make it what it is.”
“My life is done. I am what I am. Which is why you need to go home, stay clear of here, and forget about finding him. You don’t want to be a part of this.”
“I want the part that’s in here,” Mercy jabbed her finger into his chest where his heart lay. “I know there’s more to you than this façade you put on. I want the man that fought to stay with me that night. I want him fighting with me again, not against me.”
“I want closure!” He could hear the tears in her voice. “I want you!”
Marc turned stunned. Did she just say she wanted him? She looked stunned that the words had slipped from her mouth.
“What?” Marc asked dumbfounded.
She was the silent one now.
“Did you just say you want me?”
Her nose flared.
“You don’t give a shit about me, you don’t give a shit about anyone but your gang.” Mercy walked toward the door. Marc grabbed her wrist gently stopping her.
“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about you. Wondered if you were going to be okay. Felt guilty for being a part of it. I’ve wanted to look for you, but I knew we were both better off if we never saw one another again.”
“But I couldn’t leave well enough alone, huh.” Mercy crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Marc broke into a small smile, “because it’s so damn good to see you, even if you do hate me after this.”
“I want to hate you.”
“It’s better for both of us if you do.” Marc felt a tinge of hurt at the thought.
“And I should have walked out of here the second you told me what you are.”
“You still should.”
She scrunched her face as though waging an internal battle.
“I don’t want to.” Her voice shook.
Marc couldn’t hold himself back any long. He crossed the small distance between them and did the very thing he’d wanted to do since the moment he realized who she was. He wrapped his arms around her in a strong embrace.
“I’m sorry Mercy. I’m so sorry,” he whispered in her ear. Surprising him, she returned his embrace.
“I wish you had left me, just like your friend.” She nuzzled her face into his chest.
“He’s not my friend,” Marc said quickly. “And I would have never left you.”
“It would have been easier for both of us if you had.”
“I’m not going to apologize for staying with you. That’s the only thing I’ve done right in a long time.”
“Did he feel guilty?”
“What?”
“Did the man who hit me feel guilty?”
Marc should lie. Tell her that Jose coped horribly, cried, worried. The truth was Jose didn’t give a shit.
“Please, at least tell me that.”
Marc inhaled deeply.
“No. He didn’t.”
Mercy gripped his shirt in her hands and sobbed more pronounced. Marc rubbed her back.
“Which is why I want you to have nothing to do with him. The men I deal with have no conscience.”
Mercy pulled her head back and looked into his eyes. Those eyes. Those damn eyes. They saw right through him.
“You do though.”
“It’s a curse.” Marc shook his head. In his business it would be much easier to have no conscience, no guilt or remorse over horrible deeds. He’d never pulled a trigger himself, but he’d been a witness to it. The things he’d seen.
Marc felt her body shaking against him. Perhaps it was her leg bothering her, or the emotions they were sharing. Marc didn’t hesitate though, he scooped her up in his arms, carried her back to the living room, and sat down on the couch with her sitting across his lap.
“Marc,” Mercy hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Thank you for staying.”
“I’d never willingly leave you.” The tension between them could be cut with a knife. Marc couldn’t stop his actions. He should have kicked her out of his house. He certainly shouldn’t be holding her.
Mercy wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her face into the crook of his neck.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Marc knew he wasn’t making their situation any better.
“I know,” she agreed.
“I need you to promise me something Mercy.”
Mercy gripped his neck as though she never wanted to let go.
“Promise you’ll stop this. Promise me you won’t keep looking.”
“I can’t.” Determination showed in her face.
Marc framed her face in his hands.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Marc, without thought, lightly kissed her temple. “You’ve been hurt enough by us.”
Mercy closed her eyes and a silent tear streamed down her face. Marc wiped it away with his strong hand.
“Promise me,” he demanded softly.
She opened her slightly bloodshot eyes and nodded her head in agreement.
“Thank you,” he said elated.
How long they sat there holding one another, Marc didn’t know. What he did know was he needed to let her go, both physically and emotionally.
“You should go,” he said barely audible. He didn’t want her to go. He wanted to hold her all night. But he wouldn’t wish himself upon his worst enemy. Certainly not an upstanding citizen such as Mercy Kendrick. Marc was trouble.
“I’m sure I’ve ruined your evening showing up here unannounced,” Mercy said defensively and tried to get to her feet. Marc cinched his hands around her waist stopping her.
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.” She wiggled in his grasp. “Let me go!”
Marc released his grip on her and she stormed away. Out the door she went without looking back at him. Marc watched as she walked with a slight gimp to her Jeep. She stopped, standing beside the driver’s door, and looked through the picture window at him. Marc stared back. And then she left.
RETRIBUTION
Mercy
“James, I have another job for you,” Mercy spoke into her iPhone after leaving Marc’s.
“What can I do for you?”
“Find out when Marc’s next race is.”
“If you’re having any thoughts of going to it, I’m not going to help you.”
“I’ll pay you triple your fee. Find out when.”
“Mercy,” James sighed.
“Triple your fee for finding that one thing out. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”
“Okay, okay. But just please, be careful.”
“Always. Let me know as soon as you find out.”
“I’ll call you.”
“Thanks.” Mercy hung up the phone. Marc was a paradox. He acted like he cared, sure as hell held her like he cared, but then kicked her out. KICKED HER OUT. She was torn between hating this man and…having feeling. How wrong was it for her to have any feeling for a fucking DRUG DEALER? She needed to get a grip. Mercy took a deep breath and headed back to Bellview. The trip hadn’t yielded any information, all it had produced was a lot of tears. She was going to find the man who hit her though, she didn’t care what Marc thought, or what she promised to him. He didn’t care, not really, and neither did she.
Over the following week Mercy buried her nose in her work and rehabilitation. She needed to keep herself busy. Then she got the call she’d been waiting for.
“Thursday night, 1:00 a.m.,” James said.
“Where?”
“A place called Brighton Heights, in the industrial park. Seems to be a place they like to frequent.”
“Thanks James.”
“Promise me you won’t go to this.”
“I’ll be safe.”
“Mercy, don’t do anything foolish. It’s not worth the risk.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise James.”
James took a deep breath.
“If I think different I’ll simply call your father.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Then don’t put me in that situation.”
“I won’t. I promise. Thanks again.”
Mercy hung up before James could further argue. She had a date. She didn’t have much to go on to identify the mystery man who’d hit her other than a silver BMW. How many silver BMWs could there be racing?
It was a warm summer night in Brighton Heights. Mercy watched from afar as a group of cars gathered in a parking lot across the street from where she’d parked. It must be the finish line because she didn’t see any cars lining up, nor did she see Marc’s Porsche. Trying her best to fit in, she’d worn a pair of tightly fitted jeans, a black strappy tank top, and black converse style shoes. She couldn’t exactly wear heels or sandals with her leg as it was. Loose tendrils of her hair fell down beside her face and she wore makeup, something she didn’t often do. She didn’t exactly know how to look for a street race, but in all the movies girls came wearing very little clothing and looked beautiful.
The parking lot was packed. There must have been close to a hundred people. And these people were not the kind Mercy would hang out with. The girls wore exactly what she thought they would. Little more than what was necessary to keep them covered. The men, they wore more jewelry than she did. It was ethnically diverse, every culture represented. Weaving her way through the crowd unnoticed, Mercy looked for the BMW. She found several, a black one, blue, white, but no silver. She made her way back to the front of the crowd where most of the revelers were and waited.
The sound of engines tacking out could be heard in the distance.
“Hey baby,” a voice came from beside her. Mercy looked over. A tall bald man gawked at her. Mercy merely rolled her eyes and turned back to the road awaiting the racers.
“I’m talkin’ to you ho’.”
“And I’m not talking to you.”
“Oh you think you’re too good for me.”
“I don’t want any trouble.” Mercy held up her hands.
“Well you sure look like trouble honey.”
Mercy was out of her element. Marc was right, this wasn’t Bellview.
Mercy saw headlights approach and Marc’s Porsche pulled across the line first. Second was another Porsche, third was a silver BMW, last was an Infiniti. Mercy’s blood boiled. The cars turned around and came back to the finish line party. Marc pulled into the lot and was immediately surrounded by supporters. The other Porsche, BWM, and Infiniti pulled alongside Marc’s. Mercy worked her way through the crowd to where the BMW was parked by it’s lonely.