Have Mercy. Jo Leigh

      “I’m not listening.”

      “You are so. Anyway, you go up to his room. Get Buster to sit. Will pulls you into his arms for a bone- melting kiss—”

      “Gilly, stop.”

      “You tear off each other’s clothes and go at it like poodles. You’re happy and exhausted. He’s happy and exhausted. Buster knows how to sit on command. What’s so terrible about that?”

      “Aside from the fact that he’s a guest?”

      “In your case, we can make an exception. I think I saw it in the employee’s handbook. Anyone who hasn’t been laid in a year gets to screw any guest they want to.”

      Mercy looked at her ex-friend. “Gee, next time, maybe you can have that printed on a T-shirt so everyone would know.”

      “No one on this street cares if you’ve gotten laid.”

      “I do.”

      Mercy jerked around to see a grinning homeless man standing a few inches away.

      She scowled at Gilly and speeded up.

      Gilly laughed so hard the dogs got scared. Not that she cared. Gilly was one of those people who walked through life as if it was her playground. She didn’t get scared, didn’t blush, and when she made a fool of herself she shrugged it off with such ease it made Mercy cry from envy.

      It didn’t hurt that she was pretty, either. Tall, voluptuous, with dark curly hair that framed her face and made her look a hell of a lot more innocent than she was. Gilly also had a fabulous boyfriend, Gordon, who was a concierge at the Muse.

      The park was just across the street, and while they waited to cross there was no use even trying to talk. All focus was on the dogs, who were salivating to go inside the fenced-in doggie area and run around in the grass.

      It was always a joy to take off their leashes, to see them grin their puppy grins as they darted into the thick of things. Today, the dog park was a little crowded, but there was still an empty bench, which she and Gilly snagged.

      “The great thing about him is that he’s leaving,” Gilly said as she wrapped her leashes into a big roll.

      “He’s a guest.”

      “He’s leaving. You know how people are when they check in to Hush. He’s got that whole chest of toys just sitting there, calling him. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

      “I get fired.”

      “Come on. That’s never gonna happen. Piper loves you. She’d never fire you.”

      “If I’m caught, what choice would she have?”

      “You won’t get caught.”

      Mercy smiled. “That’s right. Because I’m not going to do it.”

      Gilly shook her head. “You’re too smart to let this opportunity get away from you. He’s gorgeous, he’s horny, he’s leaving. It’s a gift, Mercy. You just have to unwrap it and it’s yours.”

      “I just have to take care of the pets,” she said.

      Gilly’s look was meant to urge her on, but all Mercy felt was pathetic. She should never have talked to any of them about her personal life. Hadn’t she learned by now to keep her big mouth shut?

      “Maybe it’s okay, once every five years or so, to take care of yourself. The animals are great, Mercy, but they’re not a substitute for love.”

      “Love?” Mercy snorted. “Come on—”

      “Okay, so maybe not love, but how about human companionship? How about comfort? People need contact. It’s how we’re designed, and you’re no different.”

      “I’ve had all the contact I need.”

      “No, you haven’t. Besides, if it gets you out of your apartment for a night…”

      “That’s the first thing you’ve said that makes any sense.”

      “See? I knew you’d come around. Now, we just have to make sure Gorgeous Will comes back to visit Buster—”

      Mercy slugged her friend in the shoulder, which did shut her up. But it wouldn’t stop her from plotting and planning. It’s what Gilly did best.

      IT WAS JUST PAST six when Will found himself an empty stool at Erotique, the Hush bar. He’d tried, with no success, to change Mercy’s mind about training Buster, and with that defeat he’d realized he’d have to take another tack.

      “Glenfiddich,” he said to the bartender.

      “I’ve got the single malt or the special reserve.”

      “Single malt.”

      The bartender, a tall guy who was undoubtedly working here until he got his big break on Broadway, went off to fetch the scotch and Will turned to case the room. The bar was just starting to fill with the after- work crowd, and he was once again amazed at the obvious signs of wealth. This place was a treasure trove of watches, diamond rings, laptops, iPhones and electronic gear of every stripe. Even the briefcases were polished leather and monogrammed, of course.

      And the women were all beautiful. Even if they hadn’t been born that way, they used every trick in the book to appear as if their good looks were nothing special. He wondered how many cosmetic surgeons were sending their kids to Harvard from this crowd alone.

      He was one of the lucky ones. He’d been born with his grandfather’s dark handsomeness, and he’d learned early not to squander the gift. It had made so much of life so much easier.

      Women had never been a problem, and even in business, people were more likely to part with money if the person asking had a symmetrical, pleasing face and body.

      Personally, he never understood why so many people didn’t clue in to the beauty factor. It was just a fact of human nature, not good, not bad. Simply useful.

      “Here you go, sir,” the bartender said. “Can I get you anything else?”

      Will pulled a folded hundred out of his jacket pocket and discreetly pushed it into the young man’s hand. “Tell me something, Karl. What do you know about Mercy Jones?”

      “Mercy…oh, you mean the pet concierge.”

      Will nodded before taking his first sip. The scotch was unbelievably smooth, and he savored the slow, subtle burn.

      “Let’s see.” Karl picked up a glass and a cloth, and proceeded to use one on the other. “She’s one of Ms. Devon’s projects. Found her in a shelter.”

      “I heard she worked for animal rescue?”

      “Yeah. But she was something of a rescue herself, although that’s all rumor. She’s the quiet type. About everything. I see her in the cafeteria from time to time, but she keeps to herself.”

      “Not dating anyone?”

      “Not that I’ve seen. But one of the waitresses knows her. I’ll ask.”

      “Thanks, Karl. I appreciate it.”

      Karl took a few more orders, but given the size of his tip, Will felt sure he’d find out all he could. And now that that piece of business was in motion, it was time to relax. To appreciate his drink, to think about Drina and the damned diamond dog collar.

      Drina, he surmised, was going to steal the thing. Fine. What he couldn’t figure out, however, was what she was planning to do with it, after she had it. The collar was undoubtedly insured, and since it was such an unusual piece, the police would notice if it suddenly came on the market. He doubted any reputable fence would take the thing, at least not for a few years.

      Besides, it wasn’t a smart move. That made him more uncomfortable than anything else. Drina was not a stupid woman, and she didn’t