Free Stealing Mercy by Kristy Tate Page A

his lips turning up at the corners.
    Mr. Mugs snorted from behind the curtain. She’d forgotten the driver and had thought they were alone.
    Trent tightened his grip on her hand. “As I hope to prove tomorrow.”
    “When you’ll share with me what you’ve found.”
    “When you’ll share with me what you know.”
     
     

CHAPTER 9
     
    Remedy for Insomnia:
    1 tsp. chamomile flowers.
    1 tsp. hops.
    1 tsp. valerian root.
    1 cup of boiling water.
    Steep for 45 minutes, strain and drink 1 hour before bedtime.
    From The Recipes of Mercy Faye
     
    Trent let himself into the small townhome he shared with Chloe on Queen Anne Hill. From the back window he had a view of the city and the ships bobbing in the Sound. Cold, he lit a fire in the grate and then poured himself a brandy, noticing for the first time the color perfectly matched Mercy’s hair. The true color of her hair. He tossed the drink back and felt it burn down his throat as he warmed before the fire.
    Who was this girl? Where had she come from? Why was she interested in Steele’s involvement in Lucky Island?
    Soon, Chloe would return. He needed to decide how much he would tell her. Chloe loved Rita with a passion. Incapable of being lukewarm, Chloe approached every situation with a gung-ho or oh-no fervor. He loved his sister, but he was glad she hadn’t yet returned from the theater. He needed to think.
    Trent settled into a reading chair and poured the pearls into his hand. They twinkled and he wished they could tell him the story of how they’d traveled from Rita’s neck to Steele’s safe. Could Steele have gotten them through innocent means? He thought of the other bags of jewels and his stomach clenched. Did each pouch represent a missing girl? Maybe the jewelry belonged to Steele’s infamous dead wife, but he didn’t think so.
    He had never met Claris, but he’d heard whispers. Strong, intelligent, a ruthless businesswoman, what had she ever seen in the womanizing Steele? Rumor claimed she held the purse strings and marital reins equally tight.
    Trent pulled out the leather packet he stolen from Steele’s safe and flicked through the contents. All the contracts had Steele’s name, but only the later ones bore his signature. The earlier contracts had been signed with a strong, flourishing pen, unlike Steele’s sketchy scrawl. Steele had been involved in a number of business dealings over the years, but what surprised Trent the most was the identities of his cohorts. Recognizing the signature of Sheriff Calhoun, Trent realized his grandmother had been right about not going to the police.
    He pulled out the purchasing contract for on the property on Lucky Island and smoothed it out. After a moment, he tossed the papers to the floor, pulled off his tie, kicked off his boots and let his head fall back against the chair. What could Mercy Faye want from Steele?
    When he closed his eyes he saw her, holding that ridiculous umbrella and staring at him with eyes bright with unshed tears, pink cheeks, black hair vanishing against the night sky. In his dream she tried to tell him something, but then, like Rita, she disappeared.
     
    *****
     
    Because her body cried for rest, she hoped to sleep, but her still tense muscles couldn’t let loose even after she’d slipped between the cool sheets. In her mind, Mercy replayed the dialogue with Trent. She rolled over and put the pillow over her head, trying to make his mocking smile, his curving lips disappear. Heat spread through her as she relived the pressure of his hands holding hers, the feel of his body against hers. This won’t do , she thought, curling into a ball, tucking her legs into her gown. An involvement with Trent, a relationship with anyone, would be impossible as long as Steele remained. Perhaps Steele is just passing through, never to return, the hope comforted her, her tension eased and finally, her fatigue caught up with her racing mind. Determining that she only had to wait for Steele to leave,