Gorgeous Misery (Creeping Beautiful)

A chill runs through my body. It’s got to be ninety-five degrees outside and even though the AC is on, the front door is still open, so it’s hot in here.

The chill is a warning.

Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

CHAPTER TWLEVE - NICK

TODAY

“If you hurt her—”

But the call has dropped. There is nothing on the other end but empty silence.

“Fuck,” I mutter. I’m outside the motel in the parking lot. There are a few people packing up cars, but other than that, there’s no one around.

Where is he?

Somewhere close?

Somewhere far?

In this hotel right now?

If he’s not here in the hotel, and he’s coming here to meet me, will he bring Wendy with him? Or will he really leave her where she is? Does he have help? Will there be someone watching her?

I’m worried about this development.

Even back when I was technically ‘alive,’ I didn’t really know Merc all that well. He was some random guy who ran in my circle. And, of course, he was part of all that craziness that happened. But when I gifted him those three little Zero girls I didn’t do it because I thought he’d be some kind of great father. I did it because I knew for a fact that he could control them and those girls were already connected to Sydney and Sydney was connected to him. I didn’t really give a fuck about Merc’s people skills that day, let alone his parental instincts.

But I give a lot of fucks about that shit right now.

Because I don’t know what he’s capable of these days. If he really does have Wendy under some kind of mind control, he could easily damage her.

But will he?

That’s the question.

It’s pretty clear that Merc has a big problem with me being alive. He has chosen sides. Sasha’s side. And as far as he’s concerned, I hurt her.

And I get it. I did hurt her. I take full responsibility for that. But I saved her too. Twice.

Actually, more than twice. I mean, I’m not counting or anything, but I had Sasha’s back when we were kids. I always put her first. And what the fuck, ya know? I gave her my daughter.

This line of thinking will lead to daydreams about Lauren and I can’t afford to lose focus now—not when we’re deep inside the middle of things. So I push all thoughts of my girl away and just concentrate on what comes next.

Wendell and a room key.

I go back inside, get a room and text the number to Merc, and then I lock myself in there. I pull the blackout curtains closed and figure whatever plan Merc has for me, he’s put a lot of thought in to it. Because the first time I broke Sasha’s heart—and trust—I left her in a hotel room a lot like this one.

I woke her up that morning. “What do you want?” That’s what I said. And even though her mouth replied, “Pancakes,” that wasn’t what her heart said.

Her heart said, You, Nick. I want you. I’m your promise, you’re my promise, and we’re going to do this together.

I know that’s what she was thinking because that’s basically what she told me like ten seconds before I asked her if she was hungry.

And then I got cruel. For the first time I felt compelled to set her straight. Nothing like the meanness that came later. It was just a little sneak peek. And, in my defense, leaving her in that Wyoming motel room was my way of saying goodbye. Here, kid. Have four hundred dollars and a stack of pancakes. See ya in another life.

But I knew what her next move would be.

And when Sasha Cherlin—being that she is Sasha Cherlin—caught up to me in Santa Barbara, she brought an army with her.

Not that kind of army.

A very violent cartel kind of army.

A shiver runs up my spine when I picture it in my head. Because the ones who lived through that night—well, we didn’t exactly become friends. I would not call what they did to me friendly. But those men were all I had for a while.

I look around the room, logging all the things one finds in a cheap motel room like this. The king-sized bed, the long dresser with a mirror, the TV on the dresser, the tiny microwave, the little fridge, the single-serving coffeemaker. There are the two mandatory nightstands with the two mandatory lamps and the mandatory phone on one and the mandatory alarm clock on the other.

Then my eyes swing over to the table and chairs in front of the window. It’s like motel owners have some kind of industry floor plan for where they put the furniture because I have never seen the table and chairs on the side of the room where the bathroom is. I have never seen the bed under the window, either.