No. He didn’t just wake up one day and say, “I think what I’m doing here is wrong.”
I planted that seed.
I’m the reason she got Ford and Ashleigh as parents. I’m the reason she has two brothers and sisters. Hell, I’m just gonna take credit for Merc, too.
It was all me, babe.
Deal with it.
“What the hell are you thinking about?”
Wendy’s words jolt me out of my silent introspection. We’re sitting at the dining room table waiting for breakfast. Apparently, McKay takes meals seriously. And since we all pretty much did our own thing yesterday, he’s insisting on a family breakfast before we begin unfucking his friend’s seriously messed-up mind.
“What?”
“Your face, Nick. Jeez. Are you planning someone’s death?”
“What?” I laugh the word out this time. “What are you talking about?”
“You have that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The one you use when you’re planning someone’s death.”
I make lazy eyes at her. Telling her she’s ridiculous without using words.
“Seriously. What were you thinking about? Sasha?”
I look around, making sure Sasha isn’t close by. But Wendy and I are the only ones sitting down. Sasha is actually helping McKay cook. I can just barely catch a glimpse of her through the arched doorway that leads to the kitchen. Everyone else but Maggie is still getting dressed or whatever. Mags is setting the table, and she smiles coyly at me as she places napkins under forks.
I make a mental note to keep my eye on her today. She’s Sasha, Lauren, Wendy, and Indie all wrapped up into one three-foot-tall package.
I finally answer Wendy’s question with a lie. “No, I wasn’t thinking about Sasha.”
But she doesn’t believe me. Because she keeps this line of questioning going. “Do you need to talk to her or something?”
“No, Wen. I’m not thinking about Sasha.” Not the way she’s presuming, at least. Wendy thinks I’m harboring some broken heart over how things ended between us. But it didn’t end. There was nothing to end. Yeah, Sasha and I were friends, but childhood friends. It’s not what Wendy thinks.
“Then what were you thinking about?” This time, the question comes from Maggie.
Great. They’re ganging up on me.
“Who’s thinking about what?”
We all look over at another arched doorway that leads to the foyer as Indie comes breezing through. So carefree, that one. I don’t like her.
“We’re thinking about breakfast,” I say. “I’m starved.”
All three blonde killers—or, in Maggie’s case, almost-killer—scoff at me. Like I’m insulting them.
Indie takes a seat next to Wendy and Nathan sits across from me. He reaches for Maggie, hooking an arm around her waist so he can pull her towards him and tickle her at the same time. She squeals with delight.
I don’t get Nathan, either. He was never my favorite but when he worked for me, he followed orders. Now… I’m getting a vibe.
He doesn’t like me.
In fact, I don’t think anyone in this house likes me except for Wendy.
When I glance back at Indie I realize she’s watching me. “What?”
“Your thoughts are loud.”
“Right?” Wendy says.
And that’s another thing. Indie’s trying to put a wedge between me and Wendy. And Wendy’s my wife, so… yeah. I don’t like that. I want to get this Donovan shit over. All I really need is for Merc to open up Donovan’s mind, let me in, then the two of us take control and pick through Carter’s little memory stacks in there and find what we need.
Merc’s looking for the genetics of his kids. I’m sure Donovan has the pedigree book his grandfather kept. It would be in there. So he’s probably gonna need that book.
But I’m looking for a specific procedure called PSY77. It’s like a do-over. You let them see the damage in their mind, but you smooth it over at the same time.
It’s truth without consequences.
No one schooling me in the art of mindfucking had access to this procedure. It came straight from Santos. How he got a hold of it, I don’t know. My life was so fucked up back then I didn’t dwell on stupid shit like that. When someone hands you a shiny-new weapon, you don’t ask questions. You just take it.
Here's the problem. I don’t really know how to use it. Santos gave me some general instructions, and maybe that’s good enough for messing with a mind you don’t love. But I can’t go inside Wendy’s mind and just start experimenting.
I’m a hundred-and-ten percent sure Merc doesn’t even know it exists, so he was never gonna be my answer. But Carter will. I know he will. He has to, or I don’t know what’s gonna happen with Wendy. The walls I put up have been breaking down since day one and now they are downright crumbling.
Chek trained her well. She knows how to ward off a psychic attack and she’s been doing her unconscious best to break my hold since I took control seven years ago.