The Butterfly Killer

Chapter 22

22

“Please, stop looking like you shit your pants.”

Burns shot Mercer a glare. He did stop staring at Cortez with wide-eyes and an open mouth which he thought in retrospect, probably did look like he’d shit himself.

Mercer had the gall to smile right back. It was short-lived when Cortez made his rounds around the room. He didn’t notice Mercer or Burns which suited them just fine. If Cortez even looked their way, it meant their under cover investigation already had holes in it and they were about to sink.

Mercer pulled Burns away from the refreshment table. More people mingled by it and they wouldn’t be able to talk privately if they were surrounded by people.

That was the reason anyway that Burns thought Mercer wanted to get away. However, that reason was thrown out the window when Mercer lead them closer to Cortez.

Burns put up resistance, but he didn’t want to make a scene so he tried to be as discrete as possible.

“What are you doing?” He hissed hopefully under his breath. No one was looking at them. No one seemed to notice them at all yet it felt like they were being watched.

Mercer kept heading in Cortez’s direction without a hint of hesitance. He kept his gaze forward, almost like he was ignoring Burns. It wouldn’t have surprised Burns in the slightest. Mercer didn’t care about him or his opinion. He did things the way he wanted and fucked anyone who tried to stop him.

The irritation Burns felt from being ignored and from being disrespected from earlier was growing. He couldn’t let it manifest further though. He needed to keep a clear head as it was too late to back out of this crazy plan of Mercer’s.

Just when Burns thought Mercer was going to lead them straight toward Cortez, they walked right past the man and into the next room.

Burns let out a huge sigh of relief. He’d even started to sweat when they drew too close to the man they were here for.

Burns looked at Mercer to hopefully understand what his aim was. He was more than pissed off that Mercer looked like he was laughing to himself.

Burns elbowed Mercer hard enough to be felt, but not hard enough that he drew attention to them. If they weren’t here, Burns might have even punched Mercer he was so peeved. “It’s not funny!”

This night started to feel like an excuse for Mercer to tease Burns and nothing else. They were wasting their time if that was all Mercer had planned.

Mercer put his finger to his lips. He didn’t touch them and that seemed to be more effective than if he did. For some reason, Burns was transfixed by the gesture. He followed the movement, his eyes first watching Mercer’s finger before they focused on Mercer’s tilted upward lips.

Burns whipped his head away. His cheeks burned and he clenched his hands as a strange uneasy feeling went through him.

He had a second of a chance to understand what he was feeling before Mercer steered him into the main room the charity event was taking place.

Others were already taking their seats. Burns was thankful Mercer knew where he was going or he at least pretended he knew where he was going.

It wasn’t a secret that Mercer came from this world, however, it was a different thing to just know it and to see it in person. The closest Burns had been to money was when his dad won a thousand dollars from a scratcher ticket.

That was not counting kissing Mercer half an hour ago. That was an entirely different kind of “close”.

The confidence Burns had somehow conjured when Molly had insulted him was gone. He didn’t know what had overcome him when he’d snapped at her. Maybe it was because he’d dealt with people like her all the time in his life.

In school, in the academy, and when he started desk duty in the FBI. He hadn’t been a total outcast, but people thought they could take advantage of him. They thought they could walk over him and that he didn’t have the spine to stand up for himself.

That hadn’t been the entire truth. Burns wasn’t the type to jump headfirst into a fight. He liked to keep to himself and a lot of people took that as a sign of weakness.

As he and Mercer sat beside each other, Burns took a look at his partner. It was a look that went deeper than Mercer’s looks or what Burns was used to seeing on surface level. Mercer could have been like the rest, power hungry vultures who believed Burns was too stupid to put up a fight. He hadn’t been though. He wasn’t. Though he treated Burns like he was stupid, it was for a different reason. Mercer treated everyone like this, but even that was still different than how he treated Burns.

Burns was the exception. He was the soft spot for Mercer.

“Stare at me like that and I might think you’re not acting.”

Burns jolted out of his thoughts. Mercer had inched closer to his face and Burns had to swallow a surprised yelp. Mercer smirked. Again, Burns was uneasy by the unfamiliar face on Mercer.

He didn’t know how long he’d been staring at the man, but it was far too long either way.

He opted to say nothing as the lights in the room dimmed. While he’d been lost in his thoughts, the crowd from the other rooms had migrated here where the auction was to be held. He tried to be discreet as he looked around. His eyes passed over those who didn’t pertain to their investigation. He did linger on a couple of bodyguards mixed in with the public.

Cortez was paranoid and he had reason to be. He didn’t have just the Feds on his back. He had other drug lords and the Mexican government breathing down his neck. Everyone had their reasons for wanting the man dead and while Burns tried to sympathize with the criminals they were after, Burns really couldn’t even picture himself in Cortez’s shoes.

He’d leave this one to Mercer. He and Cortez seemed like they had more in common.

The large room, which looked like an old ballroom, now held a large stage with a podium. Burns let himself turn in his seat only once to take a look at the room.

The mansion seemed much bigger on the inside than when he’d seen it from a distance outside. Though, to his credit, he hadn’t really been paying attention he was so nervous. He wasn’t feeling much better when they were so close to the man they needed answers from, but since he didn’t believe anything immediately bad was going to happen he was a little less tense than before.

Upward, balconies lined the room. In the lowered lighting, he couldn’t make out the people sitting in these balconies. He had a feeling Cortez’s men, perhaps business partners, were up there, keeping an eye on the event.

He didn’t stare for too long. He didn’t want to be noticed. He feigned the innocent “poor” man who’d married into money. The only hard part to play was the man candy hanging off Mercer’s arm. There wasn’t anything boy-toy about Burns.

Before the self-consciousness could dig its claws in deeper, he let his eyes trail over the men and women slowly trickling in. They were the typical faces he expected. High officials, local celebrities, business owners, and the mayor.

He couldn’t hold back his scoff.

These people were the ones boasting about bringing justice to corruption in their cities, but the first to snooze with the criminals themselves. The real reason this charity event was being held was to give them an excuse to party and to cleanse the dirty money, recycling it back into the desperate hands from which they’d taken it from.

He was most definitely making a face when he turned back in his seat. Mercer was looking at him, but he didn’t care.

He let his anger bleed into his persona as he placed his hand high on Mercer’s thigh. “I don’t wonder why you left this life.”

He could see from the corner of his eye that Mercer’s gaze had darkened. His left side of his face burned from the intensity in Mercer’s eyes. There was a good reason for it—the stare said Mercer wanted to devour Burns—and it simply meant Mercer was good getting into his character. While part of that character was his personality in general, it must take a lot to convince himself he found Burns attractive.

Burns didn’t have to suffer too long with Mercer’s attention as the presenter, a blond woman in her seemingly late forties, went on the stage.

The room hadn’t been out of control, but the soft chatter fell silent as the woman introduced herself and the “cause” the auction was going toward.

Burns tuned the bullshit out. They were in the middle of the seated guests. Though their backs were facing the door, Burns felt he had a good view of the rest of the room. He figured they were going to sit and just watch everyone do a pissing contest at who could be the better saint.

However, when the bidding for the art pieces created by artists in “low in-come neighborhoods” started, it was to his shock that Mercer started actually betting .

The woman at the podium smiled and pointed at Mercer’s held sign. “$250,000 to the gentlemen in seat fifteen.”

Burns shot his partner a bewildered look.

“$300,000 to the gentlemen in seat thirty-two.”

Mercer raised his sign again, bidding $300,00 on a porcelain mailbox . Burns’s head whipped around as a couple more people betted on the art piece, raising it up to $750,000.

Mercer bowed out. Thank God .

The room clapped as the winning bettor waved and soaked up the praise.

“What was that?” Burns’s hand tightened on Mercer’s thigh.

Mercer fanned himself with the betting sign. He leaned his arm on the back of Burns’s chair. “Cortez won’t appreciate a show-off at his hosted event. The more I flaunt my money, the more of his attention I’m buying.”

Burns took the information in. Again, Mercer was right. Cortez was power hungry. Though this was a charity event and people were expected to flaunt their wealth, Cortez wouldn’t be able to stop himself from wanting to one-up a man trying to steal the spotlight.

Burns glanced to the back of the room where Cortez sat in his own spot in the corner, surrounded by his men obviously.

He couldn’t see the man clearly. His face was shrouded in darkness. He watched as the man called over one of his men and spoke to them. There was a sharp nod from the man as he walked off to do something Cortez had asked of him.

The next item to be auctioned was brought onto stage. Mercer waited for someone to bid before he did. He did this over and over again, sometimes winning the bid for a ridiculous amount that caused Burns’s jaw to drop to the floor. Sometimes he let the bid slip from his hands though by the look on his face, he was doing it on purpose. Burns didn’t know if anyone else knew this was simply a game for Mercer, but Burns could see how much Mercer was enjoying playing with everyone’s emotions in the room.

Burns couldn’t risk another glance back up at Cortez’s balcony. He was itching to know what reaction the man was having because he knew Mercer’s plan had to be working. There was no doubt in Burns’s mind that Mercer always knew how to rile someone up. He was a master at finding weaknesses.

When the entire auction was over, the woman gave a closing speech. Just when Burns thought this night was wrapping up and they would finally get to the real reason they were here tonight, the woman invited the highest bidder up to the podium to give some words.

“Mr. James Mercer, we welcome you to give a closing statement and to accept a letter from Mr. Cortez on behalf of the community.”

A round of applause was deafening to Burns’s ears. He was quite shocked when Mercer stood up and went up to the stage. There hadn’t been a hint of hesitance in his step. He’d known all along that this would happen. It was another way to poke at the bear who was Cortez.

And Burns wasn’t dumb to think Mercer wasn’t getting some sick validation from this. The man was a fucking narcissist.

“Thank you,” Mercer said as he spoke into the mic. “I want to thank the wonderful artists who made these beautiful pieces and gave us all a chance to display them in our homes. I’d also thank Mr. Cortez for holding this event. I know I speak for everyone when I say he’s an honorable man who’s done a lot for this city.”

More applause but there was trepidation. Some had picked up on the slight sarcasm Mercer couldn’t help but slip in.

Burns knew the moment Cortez entered the room. There was a change in the air that could be felt. It was a dark energy that had Burns wanting to reach for his gun—which he didn’t have on him. He clenched his fist. The impulse was hard to fight.

Cortez strode down the aisle. The applause was almost deafening. This man didn’t just have these people in his pockets—he had them eating out of his fucking hand.

Mercer shook hands with Cortez. The way they were looking at each other, Burns was sure someone was going to break their wrist. To his relief, Mercer let go of Cortez’s hand and let the man take over the podium.

“A man who takes over my own heart. It’s my honor to host someone so generous.”

Another round of applause. The tension in the air made Burns sick.

Cortez handed Mercer a letter and put a hand on his shoulder. They smiled for a picture and it was the most awkward thing Burns had ever seen. This was going to make headlines and Burns could only pray no one looked much further into Mercer.

He was cursing inside his head when Mercer came back down to his seat.

“I think you got his attention,” Burns hissed through clenched teeth. “Could you have been any more obvious? You were practically sniffing right up his ass!”

Mercer gave Burns a sweet smile that made his teeth ache. Mercer leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“For a straight man, you sure like to make questionable statements,” he mumbled against Burns’s flushed skin.

Burns kept his face neutral. There were eyes on them now, more so than ever.

He turned his head more inward into Mercer’s shoulder, seeking some kind of privacy as cameras were going off. “When this is over, I’m going to cut your fucking balls off.”

Mercer laughed. It was abrupt, a true laugh that was rare to get from him. He threw his head back.

Burns couldn’t keep his gaze from falling to the stretch of skin. Mercer’s warm cologne filled his nose. He breathed him in, not meaning to, but afterward, he couldn’t stop wanting to smell him.

He pulled away. The camera flashes were making his face hot. That was why he was feeling so weird about this.

“I’d like to see you try.”

It took a second for Burns to realize Mercer was talking about his ball-cutting-threat. He opened his mouth to tell Mercer to shut up, but nothing came out when he looked at Mercer. He cocked his head when he saw the gleam in Mercer’s eyes. The comment seemed a little too flirty. But Mercer couldn’t actually be flirting with him, could he?

“Mr. Mercer.”

Cortez was flanked by two of his men. He walked up to Mercer and Burns with a welcoming smile that didn’t fool anyone. Mercer stood up, looking not at all surprised by Cortez calling his name. It took a second longer for Burns to stand from his seat. The other guests were already mingling, taking photos and gathering into the next room where the afterparty was going to be held.

“Mr. Cortez,” Mercer said, giving a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Cortez appraised Mercer. “Have we met before?”

Burns really was going to be sick.

Mercer smiled. There was steel in his pearly whites that would make a shark faint. “We haven’t, but my father was a chairman of the board before he passed.”

Recognition flickered over Cortez’s face. “Benjamin Mercer. I see the resemblance now.”

There was a weird silent conversation happening between them that Burns couldn’t decipher. Why hadn’t Mercer lead with his father knowing Cortez in the first place? Burns would have to wring it out of him later. This again, only made it seem like Mercer wanted to do this pissing contest because he thought it was fun and not because it was necessary for the job.

Cortez’s eyes found Burns’s.

Mercer put his hand on Burns’s shoulder and pulled him forward. “My husband, Rhys.”

Cortez didn’t even pretend to not look disgusted. Burns raised a brow, but he wasn’t looking to pick a fight with a fucking mob boss.

It took a moment for Cortez to stop looking like he’d smelled shit. He flippantly ignored Burns and looked back at Mercer. Mercer was right again. Cortez didn’t care enough about proclivities.

Or perhaps Cortez was going to kill them later. Burns really couldn’t know for sure about anything. Body language could only tell you so much about a person. You couldn’t gauge their choices solely on it.

“I’m holding a private poker game tonight. I’d like to invite you. It’d be nice to get some fresh blood in the game.”

Cortez pulled a card from his jacket. He held it out with two fingers like he was scared to get gay cooties.

Mercer acted as if he didn’t see the disgust in Cortez’s body language. He was good playing oblivious too. It made Burns wonder what other emotions he was good at masking.

“I don’t know…my husband and I…” Mercer turned to Burns.

Burns knew exactly what he wanted. He placed his hand on Mercer’s chest and smiled endearingly. “Oh, I think our date tonight can wait.”

Mercer smiled back. “Maybe but we’ve been planning this for awhile…”

“Perhaps your husband can join us as well.” Cortez had to push the words through clenched teeth. He looked downward his nose at Burns. “If you know how to play, that is.”

Burns thought it was funny Cortez thought he didn’t know how to play. He was decent enough. He was sure he was much better than Mercer.

But he played his part in this acting game. He shrugged, almost giggling. “I can be his lucky charm.”

Cortez’s smile twitched. “Sounds wonderful.”

The tone in his voice said otherwise.