Merciless

Penny was Sophie’s last living daughter. All of her Red Leaf kids had passed on, and her son Devlin Pretty Horses was the only remaining male child. “Anything I can do?”

“Nothin’ no one can do.” She offered a tremulous smile through the sheen of tears. “Workin’ takes my mind off it.”

“We’ll be able to oblige you on that, because Mason’s son Lex is coming to stay with us for a while.”

“Really? When?”

“Soon, I think.”

“Oh, the sheriff’s gotta be happy about that.” Her sharp brown gaze locked onto mine. “But are you happy?”

I don’t know. “Yeah, I am.”

“That don’t sound convincing, Mercy.”

“I just… don’t want him to get hurt. He has wanted a chance to really be Lex’s father for longer than he’s willing to admit. I hope this kid isn’t the type to take advantage of him.”

Sophie patted my arm. “Me, too. Now how about if we get you fed, eh?”

Dawson’s arms came around my waist, and he squeezed me. When he left a sweet, lingering kiss on my temple, I knew he’d heard the entire exchange.

“Mornin’, Miz Red Leaf,” he said. “That smells awesome.”

“It is. Sit down, both of you, and I’ll dish up.”

“Why don’t you sit down, Sophie. Get some of your questions about Lex living here out of the way while I dish up.”

Sophie grinned. “Seems someone’s in a very good mood this morning. I wonder why? Any theories, Sheriff?”

Dawson smirked. “I ain’t touching that one.” He poured three mugs of coffee and sat across from Sophie.

“When will your son be here?”

“Sunday night. Mercy ’n’ me are goin’ huntin’ Saturday. After I bag a bigger buck than her, I’m driving to Denver. We’ll be back Sunday so I can get him enrolled in school Monday.”

I snorted. “In your dreams about bagging the bigger buck, marine.” I slid the plates on the table and took my seat next to Dawson.

“I love a challenge.” He snatched a slice of bacon off my plate and shoved it in his mouth.

I whapped his knuckle with my fork.

“You two behave,” Sophie warned. “What room were you thinkin’ of putting Lex in upstairs?”

“Not my old room, since Joy’s crib is in there. Probably Hope’s old room. It’s empty, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s got a floral bedspread and curtains,” Sophie pointed out.

“That’ll be fine,” Dawson said. “I don’t think Lex will care.”

Sophie and I exchanged a look. “Uh, yeah, he’s gonna care. I’ll stop at Walmart on my way home tonight and pick out bedding that’s plain and… manly.”

“Fine, but I don’t see the big deal. You’ve got girly sheets on our bed, and I haven’t complained.”

Not the same. He’d sleep on burlap if he was getting laid regularly, but I didn’t want to argue with him. We tucked into the food, and no one spoke until our plates were empty.

As we finished our coffee, Sophie said, “Such a pity about that Shooting Star girl. So young. I know not everyone likes that family, but it’s hard not to feel sorry for them, hey.”

Leave it to snoopy Sophie to bring up a case I’d hoped to avoid discussing with the sheriff.

“I assume the FBI was brought in?” Dawson asked me. “It’s under investigation.”

“Well, good luck with that.

I’m just damn happy it didn’t happen in my jurisdiction.” He pushed back from the table and took his plate to the sink to rinse it. “Miz Red Leaf, outstanding breakfast. Thank you.”

She waved him off with a smile.

“Mercy? Got a minute to talk to me before I head out?”

“Sure.” I followed him to the bedroom and watched as he strapped on his gun. “What’s up?” I formulated a half-dozen responses to his inquiries about the Shooting Star case, hoping I could hit the balance between evasive and professional.

“Don’t spend a lot on the bedding stuff for Lex’s room, okay?” He opened his wallet and passed me three twenties.

I nodded, happy that Lex was the buffer between our jobs. For now, anyway.

“I’ll be late tonight.” Dawson kissed me thoroughly. Then he held my face in his hands and locked his steely gaze to mine. “You know I love you, right?”

“Right.”

He waited for a better response.

Might be perverse, but I let him wait.

“And?” he prompted.

“And I love you, too.”

His smile had me smiling back at him as I watched him walk out. This frequent admission of how I felt about him was a whole new experience for me. During my stint in the army, I’d had to hide my true occupation from my fellow soldiers. So because I really couldn’t be myself, I’d formed no long-term emotional attachment to any man during those twenty years. Which left me the emotional equivalent of a robot.

Dawson saw beyond the facade-almost from the moment we’d met-which was part of the reason he’d had me running scared. It took a tragedy-a near mental meltdown-for me to stop finding excuses for why he and I would never work, to see him as the man who wanted me, the real me, no matter what I’d done in the past.

I relied on him-emotionally, physically. Me, Mercy Gunderson, badass former sniper who never needed anyone, needed him. Once I admitted that need to myself-and to him-I honestly felt more in control of my life than I ever had.

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