Cold Hard Secret (Secret McQueen) (27 page)

“No one else has to die,” I said. “I don’t know what promises she’s made you, but she’s
lying
. The only crown she was ever heir to is the one Callum McQueen now sits on. She can’t give you power, and if you keep following her, you will end up like them.” I pointed to the bodies on the floor. “Or worse. Don’t be fools.
I
am a queen, and I can tell you that punishment for a coup is not pleasant. Anyone who surrenders now I will extend a pardon to.”

The dozen or so remaining men exchanged worried glances. The guy with the rifle didn’t flinch. His hair was cut low to his scalp, and he had a nasty scar across his cheek, something that must have come from silver for it not to have healed. He looked like the perfect maniacal poster child of an ex-military man from every Nicholas Cage movie.

I doubted he was going to jump at my offer, so I kept my gun aimed at him in case things got bad fast.

The first guy to yield was an older man near the door. “Fuck this, man. I’m out.”

He turned for the exit, sidestepping a corpse. He’d almost reached the door when a shot rang out. At first I thought he’d been assassinated, until I saw the dart sticking out of his neck.

“Shit,” Desmond said.

The guy crumpled to all fours and let out a pitiful wail. The shriek soon converted from a human cry of pain to the sound of an injured animal keening. His shirt ripped along the back, and I began to see the horrible process of a shift being brought on unnaturally.

His bones moved under the skin but seemed to fight the process, sliding forwards and backwards as if they couldn’t decide which position was best. Each time they adjusted he cried out. Claws burst from the tips of his fingers before retracting and bursting forth again. I was grateful I couldn’t see his face. I could only imagine the awful images that would burn into my brain.

Desmond winced.

“That’s what happened to you?” I asked.

“I didn’t get to watch it, but yeah.”

That meant the drug, or serum, or whatever they were using, had been loaded into tranq darts. If it wasn’t so awful, I might think it was clever. It also explained how they’d managed to get the drop on Desmond, Ben and Fairfax. If someone was able to take them down from a distance, they got to avoid the fight altogether. Smart.

The shift didn’t take long. Soon the man was a wolf and shaking off the tattered ribbons of his clothing. But Mercy hadn’t banked on his response to the change, because the first thing he did was leap at the person nearest him, sinking his razor-sharp canines into the throat of his former coworker.

Jerking his head side to side, the wolf tore out the man’s trachea, and a spray of blood colored the animal’s gray fur a nasty red. Another body for the pile. As the wolf looked for his next victim—evidently whoever happened to be closest to him—I scouted the surrounding area, hoping to find an obvious place Mercy might be hiding.

“Now, now, girlie. Why don’t you step down off that table and we go see your mother?” This from Buzzcut, who hadn’t lowered his gun even to see what the wolf was up to.

“Why don’t you step closer so I can give you a shorter haircut?” I spat back.

“If you come with me, I might find it in my heart to let your friends live.”

That made me snort. “Please. You can’t keep your
own
men alive, and I’m supposed to believe you can magically protect mine? Nuh-uh. If anyone’s making promises here, it’s going to be me.”

“It will be very hard to make promises if you’re dead.”

“You’re not going to kill me. No one else here needs to die.” As I spoke, the wolf leaped onto the back of a guard who’d been running for it, ripping the dude’s ear clean off. “Except that guy, maybe.”

“Control the animal,” Buzzcut snapped. Another guy went to one of the pig stalls and located a long stick with something like a noose attached to it. As far as I could tell it was something old-timey dogcatchers had used to capture animals without risking a bite.

That must have been what they’d used to get Ben and Fairfax tied up so quickly. I didn’t think it was likely they’d domesticated them in such a short period of time.

The wolf versions of my little brother and the other member of his pack had been chained to one of the pigpen rails and were growling and tugging at their restraints. A hunger for blood was nakedly apparent in their eyes, but if I managed to release them, would they help us or get themselves killed?

I decided not to tempt fate.

Once we were out of this mess, I could make my apologies to Ben. At least he’d be alive to hold a grudge.

“There’s an office past the cooling units,” Holden called down. “You might not be able to see it from there, it’s pretty small.”

Aha.
Finally things were starting to go my way.

“Des, you think you can cover me?” I didn’t much care if Buzzcut could overhear everything we were saying. I was ninety percent certain he wouldn’t shoot me, and the remaining ten percent honestly didn’t care whether he did or didn’t. If I died running for it, this whole mess would be over. If I made it, then it would end in a much happier fashion.

One way or another, I was ready for this to be done.

Desmond shifted his focus to Buzzcut. The other remaining men seemed mostly interested in avoiding the wrath of the wolf, while two of them attempted to back him into a corner so they could chain him up. This was my window, and I had to take it.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” Buzzcut warned.

“Foolish is my middle name.” I made sure a bullet was in the chamber and glanced over my shoulder to where the meat hooks were dangling from the ceiling. “Well, actually it’s Merriweather. But you might agree that
sounds
pretty foolish.” Shrugging, I jumped off the table, tucking into a ball as I landed so I could roll towards the cooling room. The bullet wound in my side was kicking up quite the fuss. I hadn’t taken any time to see if there was an exit wound on my back, but given how much pain I was in, I was certain the slug was still inside me.

I pushed that problem into Later Secret’s worry list.

Later Secret was
really
going to hate Past Secret.

I got to my feet and ran like hell, staggering to the side when a bullet exploded a chunk of wall to the right of my head. Ringing filled my ears, but still I ran. I ducked around the first corner I could find and pressed my back to the wall, taking a moment to regain my composure.

The small office Holden had spotted was about ten feet away and had been built like a little metal shed inside the barn, rather than creating an actual room. The walls were corrugated metal, and the roof was made of a similar material. Footfalls across the roof sounded like comical bell gongs. I lifted my gun in time to see Mercy jump down from the top of the shed and duck through the door.

I could fire and hope the bullets perforated the side of the office walls and got her at the same time. But depending on whether or not the metal was reinforced, there was a chance those bullets might come back at me, and I didn’t need any more holes in me for the time being.

Plus,
Grandmere
might be in there, and she’d only get caught in the crossfire. Mercy would love that, me being the one to kill
Grandmere
, saving her the trouble.

And I couldn’t bust my way through the door, either. She might have guards inside waiting to take me out. Or, hell, she could have rigged the place to explode the second I opened the door.

With too many unknown variables, I was stuck staring at a small metal box, trying to figure out what to do.

“I always knew you were weak,” I called out. “Too weak to stick around and raise your kids. Too weak to stay within the pack and call your brother king. And now you’re too weak to face me.”

“I am
not
weak,” the speakers crowed. “
You’re
weak. You hide behind your king, and your men, you hide behind that human man you call a friend. You hide behind poor, helpless old women.”

“…show you helpless…” a voice in the background snarked. The French accent was unmistakable.
Grandmere
was still alive and well enough to sass talk her captor. Glad to know I got my poorly timed wit from someone in the family.

“
Shut up.
You’re both going to die here.”

“I know
someone
is going to die here,” I observed. “But I know you want to kill me face-to-face. So stop hiding and come out. You think you’re a queen? Think you’ve got what it takes to rule a pack and command their respect? We’ve thinned out your herd a little, but if you can kill me, maybe they’ll actually still follow you once this is over.”

Silence.

“
Bok-bok-bucawk.
” Yup. I made chicken noises at the psychopath holding my
grandmere
hostage. I clucked at the woman who’d murdered my best friend.

If Desmond had still been standing next to me, this might be one of those times he cautioned me against using humor. Not that his warnings ever worked.

If we got married, he’d probably expect me to start listening to him.

I snorted.

“You’re crazy,” Mercy announced.

“Runs in the family. Speaking of which, Dad sends his love.” This wasn’t altogether false. The few times Sutherland and I had sat together in an attempt at father-daughter bonding, it had become evident he believed Mercy was still the same girl he’d known at seventeen. He often asked about her and spoke fondly of a pretty blue dress she once owned. Though I had no way of knowing for certain, I had a feeling he was referring to the dress she’d worn the day he tried to kill her.

Romantic.

“What do you mean?” Now she wasn’t sounding as sure of herself. All her previous pronouncements had been commanding, or if not that, at least full of hellfire and rage. Now she sounded meek. This was better than expected.

“Dad. Sends. His. Love.”

“You’re talking nonsense. Your father is gone.” Unless she was a fantastic actress, she’d just answered my question about whether or not she’d had something to do with Sutherland’s death warrant. It did nothing to lessen my hateful feelings towards her, but it was one fewer reason I had to want her dead.

“Sutherland? No, he’s not gone. He’s living in a rent-controlled walk-up in Chelsea. Hasn’t aged a day since you met him. You guys would probably still get along great; he’s crazier than you are.” I felt a smidgeon bad for insulting my father behind his back. Ever since he’d come back into my life, things between us had gone as smoothly as they could, given the circumstances.

I couldn’t think of him as my
dad
, not in the traditional sense. That position belonged to Keaty, for better or for worse. But it was nice to know there was someone who had played a part in my birth who still liked the idea of seeing me. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, Mercy’s desire to wipe me off the face of the planet had dented my self-esteem somewhat. Maybe that was something I could talk about with my new therapist if I got back to New York.

Killing Mommy Dearest would be a great step towards healing, though.

And I knew what I was saying was working to lure her out.

A brainstorm struck, and I pulled my cell from my pocket. The smartphone’s screen had gotten pretty badly smashed during the fight—or perhaps it had an encounter with a bullet—but when I touched the home button, it lit up. I dialed Sutherland’s apartment number, hit the speakerphone option and cranked up the volume.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Oh, hello.” There was a long pause. “Secret?”

I wanted to ask if he had a bunch of other illegitimate children running around, but managed to bite my tongue. “Yeah, it’s me. Can you do me a favor?”

“I’m not supposed to leave the apartment.”

“I know, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Can you say hi to Mom for me?” I certainly hoped this request wasn’t going to screw him up any worse than he already was. He’d experienced a lot, and now I was using him to help me kill the woman he once loved.

It’s okay, as long as I hang up before I kill her.

“Your mother isn’t here.”

I sighed. “I know, she’s with me.”

“Is she wearing her blue dress?”

Bingo.

The office door flew open, banging against the metal wall of the shed, and Mercy stormed out, a sawed-off shotgun aimed for my head and tears streaming down her face.

“
Stop it,
” she demanded.

“Mer-mer, is that you?” Sutherland asked.

For one single solitary moment, I felt an overwhelming pity for Mercy. Her gaze dropped to the phone in my hand, and the look of total loss and heartbreak on her face made my chest ache. This ploy had worked as well as I’d hoped, only now I felt guilty for doing it. How was this different from Peyton using Desmond against me?

You still won,
I reminded myself.
Because you were stronger.

“Sutherland?” The hitch of her voice hurt to hear.

“Hi, baby.”

And there it was, the love between them I’d heard people talk about but had never been able to imagine. To me, Mercy had been a creature built from spite and rage alone. The idea she could truly love someone, or have someone love her, felt totally foreign to me. But once upon a time my mother had loved Sutherland Halliston, and he’d loved her. The way he called her
baby
and the way she said his name…it was all there, plain as day.