Without Mercy (Mercy 1)

For God’s sake, who cares? People are dying! Being murdered! You have to do something. Anything.

Jules couldn’t just sit here, safe and sound, while those she loved—Trent and Shay—could possibly be in danger.

Without a second thought, she found her snow gear and didn’t consider how easily she’d put Trent into the category of loved ones as she stepped into insulated pants and zipped her jacket.

It wasn’t really a surprise.

Hadn’t her ex-husband, Sebastian, accused her of that fact over and over, for the short period of her marriage? Hadn’t his perception of her “never getting over that damned bull rider” given Sebastian an excuse for his affair with Peri? Hadn’t her best friend thrown that very fact in her face when Jules had found them in her marriage bed?

“Oh, hell,” she said. This was no time to dwell on ancient history. Pocketing Trent’s pistol, she left her room and hurried down the stairs. She was out the front door, flashlight in her hand, when she stopped to catch her breath.

First things first; she’d connect with Trent, no matter how pissed he was that she hadn’t sat still. Lord, he should have known her better than that! If she and her sister had anything in common, it was that they never sat idly by.

She started for his cabin, took two steps, then stopped as if yanked by invisible reins.

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. In that split second, she realized she wasn’t alone in the darkness. She slid backward, into the shadows, her gaze fastened on the knot of people heading in the opposite direction. Huddled against the cold, their faces in shadow, their breaths mingling in the arctic air, they trudged through the snow to the chapel.

Not a word was spoken.

The silence was like an unheard knell of death.

Her fingers tightened over the pistol. Was this a security patrol?

She didn’t think so.

There were too many of them. Five? No, four! All walking as rapidly as they could, as if they were bound by a single purpose. Which was what? Murder?

Her heart stone cold, she inched forward. For a second, she thought she recognized Shay in the group. One of the members was the right size, and moved in the same manner Shay did … but that was impossible. Right? Two of the others were taller, dressed in thick, dark clothes, pressed shoulder to shoulder, the smaller ones in front. The fourth member of the group was different, though. She was walking in front of the larger ones and appeared to be a girl, her long hair visible, her figure slim, not bulked up by thick clothing. Bareheaded and vulnerable, she stumbled forward, her shoulders shaking. From the cold? Or was she sobbing?

She, and the person who resembled Shaylee, were being prodded forward, urged onward. The bareheaded girl tripped.

Jules stepped forward, opening her mouth to yell out, when one of the taller ones yanked the girl to her feet as they passed under one of the few lights that glowed in the darkness. A glint of silver flashed in the bigger person’s hand, the man behind the girl who looked like Shay.

Jules’s heart nearly stopped as she recognized a pistol.

Of course, for the security detail. But …

The bareheaded girl, stumbling but on her feet again, her arm now held firmly by the tall, thin member, turned and looked over her shoulder. Her face was pale, her eyes round with panic.

Oh, God, it was Nell Cousineau!

The girl who had left Jules the note.

The student who had pleaded for her help.

In that moment, Jules realized that the two larger people were not members of the security patrol, but killers. She didn’t doubt for a second that the larger, stronger people were marching these girls to their ultimate doom.

In the bluish light, she caught a glimpse of the girl with the gun pressed against her back.

Jules felt sick inside as she recognized her sister.

Her worst nightmare had come true: The killers had Shay!

Crackkkkk!

Somewhere glass shattered.

Trent froze in his tracks. He turned, straining to listen, trying to figure out from which direction the sound of cracking glass had come.