DUNCAN
Mercer's face resembles a ripe strawberry, all cute for calling June a b***h.
"So?" I cross my legs.
"I don't have her. I plan to steal her. It got out of hand, one of my men shot her friend when she resisted. We got outside, about to load her into the van when some people came. They were like nothing I've ever seen—their outfits. There was no face, and drones were everywhere. It was like a government convoy, like some undercover s**t—FBI or national security. They must have messed with the cameras and all took her from us, and disappeared as fast as they got there."
I laugh so much that my stomach hurts.
"The FBI and national security?" I gape at her. "Do you hear yourself?"
"I swear, Duncan."
"Duncan, we don't have her."
"Well, I do not believe you." I rise, hurling the ch
