Dion and I spent what should have been an amazing post-bang snuggle last night, arguing about the merits of living together. As in, he actually made a list of the reasons why it made sense that we do. I wasn’t disagreeing because I wanted to piss him off. I held back a smidge because, hello? We just started dating…
I was fast-forward with Nick and no, Dion was not Nick but still… Perhaps the men weren’t the problem. It wouldn’t be the first time I considered that maybe, I was the problem. I wasn’t exactly Betty-fucking-Crocker. I was a PI with more balls than brains and I loved that about me. Plus, I already had one shit marriage under my belt and wasn’t keen on another any time soon.
But Dion?
He wanted a wife. We haven’t discussed it (thank God) but I guarantee he wants kids, a yard, and a yellow Labrador too. And it’s not that I didn’t. I just didn’t right now.
Hell, I was finally about to be divorced…
And yes, that what if cloud followed me everywhere. Because what if we built an amazing life together and I started to forget? I saw what it had done to my dad and I never wanted that for Dion, for anyone.
So, it was about one in the morning when Dion had declared he had enough of my bullshit excuses and went back to his place. I still saw him every day, worked out of his office, and shared a bed; so why did it matter where I had my mail delivered?
I cohabited all of ninety-two days with Nick before he stole from me thus ending our union. Pardon me for being gun shy…
Hefting my garbage over my shoulder, I sling it into the bin and ask the universe, “Are all men like this?”
I was hauling my trash out to the curb when none other than my soon to be ex-husband pulled up. Rolling down his window he asks, “Is Dion here?”
God, he was such a pussy. “I’m great, Nick, thanks for asking.”
“We need to talk,” he says stepping out.
“Actually, you need to go before I really do put my hands on you.”
Not taking the bait, he surprises me when he rushes over and says, “I fucked up huge, Mercy.”
“Shocker.”
“I dropped your name in circles I shouldn’t have and –”
“Back up,” I say angrily. “Dropped my name, how?”
“That if anything happened to me, my wife, who’s a detective, would come looking.”
“Only we’re getting divorced and I haven’t been active in years,” I remind him. “And it’s so fucking sad that my own husband would put me in harm’s ways to cover his own ass.”
“Mercy, fuck –”
Backhanding him, I scream, “Don’t ever put the two together, Nick!”
“I’m sorry!” he says backing away holding his cheek. “I came to say I’m sorry, and –”
“And what, you piece of fucking shit coward?”
“To warn you,” he says earnestly. “Keep your man with you, alright? Someone needs to have your back here, Mercy.”
“You know what, Nick?” I whisper sadly. “Stare at mine as I walk away.”
And Nick being the asshole he is, didn’t listen.
“I told you the truth!” he whines. “Why do you have to be like this?”
When it came over me, I rounded on him, giving him no quarter. In his face, I demand, “I need a name.”
“Oh,” he stumbles. “I can’t do that –”
Reaching in, I palm my pistol, bringing it to my side slowly. When he sees it, his eyes go round and he tries wiggling free. “I asked for a name, Nick.”
He no sooner said, “Bruno Sylvester,” that there was gunfire. Taking his dumb ass to the ground along with my own, I contemplated shooting him for the trouble. Look, I know a drive by and if the occupants of that SUV wanted us dead, we’d be dead. Instead, they lit Nick’s car up and I watched as the guy in the passenger seat blew me a kiss. I didn’t have time to wonder where I had seen him before because my ex was attempting to hide behind me. Coming to my feet, I put my foot on his back and warn him, “You better pray they find you before Dion does.”
“Mercy F –” he starts then zips his mouth shut.
“Go,” I say softly. “Before I do it myself and cash in on the policy.”
Finally, the idiot listened.
After doing my homework I located Bruno rather easily. Thirty minutes after that, I was strutting through Mr. Sylvester’s office and wasn’t stopped by his entourage. I imagine a five foot nothing female spinning a ball bat around made a guy stop and think. I knew it was him by his grin. Men in charge grinned just like this. “Mercy Mohr, I presume?”
“Listen Sly, you and I have a mutual problem.”
“Do we now?”
“Yes, his name is Nicholas Kennedy.”
“Your husband.”
“Wrong,” I gag involuntarily. “Ex-husband.”
“Interesting,” he grins again.
“So is finding my woman here,” Dion says from behind me.
“Are you stalking me?” I ask with a smirk.
“Yes,” he offers without hesitation. “Sylvester is a member of the den, so it’s not uncommon for me to be here. But I would like an explanation as to how you came to be here.”
“Because Sly here sent his men to my house to shoot at me while I was taking the trash out. Both literally and figuratively.”
“Is this true?” Dion advances on him.
“Absolutely not,” he swears. “Jesus Christ, Nick Kennedy is a shitty businessman but I’d never harm his woman—ex-woman—over it. My issue lies with Nick, not Mercy.” Facing me he vows, “This was not my work, I promise you.”
“Fair enough,” I nod. “But if I find out otherwise…”
“You won’t,” he says laying his hand over his heart.
“Bruno would never harm a man’s woman over money, beautiful. Now you’ve got my word on that too,” Dion adds.
“Then I apologize,” I offer sincerely.
“Any idea where Nick keeps his money?” he grins.
“As a matter of fact, I do. But the only way I’m telling you is if you promise to torture him for it.”
“I am a man of my word.”
No lie, I really liked this guy.
“Let’s start with where he keeps his boat…”