Resurrection River: Men of Mercy, Book 2

by Cross, Lindsay

  Amy watched Evie squat in front of her through a fog of tears. “I’m calling bullshit.”

  The coarse words gave Amy pause. “What?”

  “I said bullshit. You were trying to survive and protect your baby. It’s not your job to protect everyone in this town.” Evie held her gaze, her blue eyes determined.

  “I picked a huge fight with Shane right before he was deployed. And then he died. What kind of wife does that?” She ended her question with a loud cry and grabbed another Kleenex. The water works had turned to full blast.

  “A fight about what?” Evie countered.

  “I don’t know. About the house, the yard. I wanted him to help out more.” I was a lousy wife.

  “So you asked your husband to help out around the house and he got pissed?”

  “But he worked so much. He was tired. He needed to rest when he was home.” Evie fought, trying to make her understand. She knew how wrong she’d been.

  “Bullshit.” Evie’s blue eyes flashed bright with anger. “That is bullshit, Amy Carter. That man was home plenty and he didn’t do crap to help you around the house. If I recall correctly you were working, too. And I’m pretty damn sure I’m right, since you were working in my bar. I was the one cutting you the paycheck.”

  True. “But I didn’t risk my life serving drinks at the Wharf.”

  “Oh, boo-hoo. Shane signed up for that job. Just like Hunter. Just like Ranger. And I’ll tell you something-Hunter James helps me fold laundry, clean the kitchen and still does all the yard work himself.”

  Amy sniffed her tears back and searched for another excuse, another reason to hold on to the blame. She came up empty. If Hunter did it without complaint, why couldn’t Shane have?

  “You’re forgetting one giant ass thing, too,” Evie said.

  Amy sat up straight, stared down at her friend. “What?”

  “That dirt bag was out screwing a teenage girl while you were cleaning the house and mowing the yard and working your ass off. So I’m sorry, but this self-blame line of crap doesn’t hold water. Have you really been thinking this about yourself?”

  Amy bit her lip and thought hard. Evie’s words made too much sense. If Hunter did that, voluntarily, what excuse did she have? Her guilt had dug in deep and taken root.

  Shane had been sent on deployments, fairly often, gone for a few weeks at a time. Sometimes a few months. But he’d been home just as much. He’d sit on the couch and watch T.V. Drink beer. And go out, without her.

  When she’d griped, he’d always gotten so angry. “Do you know I risk my life every time I go out? Do you have any idea what kind of stress that puts on me? You think I should come home and not relax, but work my ass off for this shitty little farm? The other wives don’t bitch and nag like this. They have supper waiting. A clean house. And a fucking smile on their face. But me-I get a nag who does nothing but whine about doing her job.”

  “No. I swear, that’s not it. I just wanted you to mow the yard, bush hog the pasture. It’s so much I can’t keep up.”

  “Can’t or won’t? I know how much you’re on your phone. Probably laid up in that bed, texting and talking to God knows who. Maybe you’re trying to get me to do all the work so you can talk to your boyfriend online.”

  Amy remembered the argument like it was yesterday. He had accused her of cheating.

  Her face flushed and she crushed the tissue in her hand. “You’re right. The fight. He’d accused me of cheating.”

  Evie stood abruptly and marched over to the kitchen cabinet. Her polished hardwood floors gleaming, the new granite counter tops and modern appliances lending chic appeal to the rustic log home. She returned, wine glasses in hand.

  “You already put Chloe to bed?” Amy asked and accepted the glass.

  “She went down in under a minute. We’ve all had a long day. I put the pac-and-play in the spare bedroom with you. Now drink.” Evie tipped Amy’s glass up and she took a sip. The cool white wine was straight up muscadine heaven down her throat.

  “Thank you for doing that for me. For taking care of her.”

  “No thanks needed. I fully expect you to babysit when I have kids - one day. Not booking anytime soon, but in the future.” Evie winked and downed half her glass. “And freaking hell, after a day like today, I don’t think I want anything more than me and my man. Lord, you attract drama like flies on a carcass.”

  Amy cringed, but took another sip of wine. “Wow. Thanks.”

  Evie smiled and sat back in her chair. “What are friends for?”

  Friends. Men. Husbands. She remembered then her anger and sat straight up, slamming her wine glass on the wood table. “He accused me of cheating. Can you believe that? After what he did?”

  “Asshole. He was making you feel guilty so you wouldn’t notice his own guilt. And over a kid! Granted, she wasn’t really a kid, but barely nineteen is still a freaking kid.”

  A shudder of disgust moved through Amy. What kind of man targeted someone like that? And Amy had been sleeping with him too, albeit, not the best sex, but they’d still been husband and wife. Then another thought, one more horrifying than the rest, popped in her head. “Could he have given me an STD?”

  Her mind quickly ran through all the diseases she remembered from sex-ed and which ones were communicable through child birth. She might have given Chloe some lifelong disease. Amy slapped a hand over her mouth, the thought so insane she couldn’t process.

  “No way. First off, do you remember how many tests and blood work they did while you were pregnant? I promise, you would know if you had anything. I’ve never seen a doctor take so much blood.” Evie shuddered, her face going pale.

  At that point, Shane had been on deployment and refusing to communicate with her, then he’d gone MIA, missing in action. And poor Evie had stuck by her, despite her fear of all things medical-especially needles. Right now her friend turned from pale white to pale green, and that was from only talking about shots.

  “You know, I didn’t even feel the shots,” Amy offered, trying to help Evie past her unreasonable fear.

  “Sure, okay. Anyway, secondly,” Evie paused and gulped down her entire glass. Geez, this must be big. “Secondly, and don’t freak out when I tell you this, I think Hayden was a virgin.”

  Amy shot to her feet, some unknown mix of anger and disgust and fury driving her. “What!?”

  “Sit down. I told you not to freak. I know she acts tough, but I’ve watched her around guys. She flirts, but she never leaves with them. Never lets them touch her too much. And as much as she acts like the wild child, Hank says she comes home every night.”

  Amy choked, “You’re telling me my cheating husband deflowered a teenager?” Bile shot up her throat, hot and burning, clawing and fighting to get out. How could he? How could he sleep with his wife and pursue Hayden at the same time? Revulsion crawled across her skin and she wanted more than anything to run to the shower and scrub her skin raw.

  Evie seemed to mirror Amy’s disgust, her skin shading even greener. Suddenly, Evie slapped a hand over her mouth and ran to the sink and vomited.

  “Holy crap. I’ll get a wet wash cloth.” Amy went to her friend, turned the faucet to the side and wet a washcloth. She pulled Evie’s hair back from her face and blotted her neck until she stopped puking.

  When Evie could stand up, Amy passed her the washcloth and made her a glass of water. Evie accepted it and took a small sip, then wiped her mouth. “Thanks. I don’t know what happened. Must have been the wine mixed with the bullshit.”

  “I hope so. Our luck, it’s a stomach virus and we’ll all be down.”

  Evie shook her head. “Nope. No way. You’re streak of bad shit is done. I’ve been feeling queasy all day. Probably the sausage I had for breakfast. It was a couple days past expiration.”

  Amy shook her head. “You need to clean out your refrigerator. That’s gross.”

  “Ya’ll don’t know the meaning of gross.”

  The deep crackly voice made Am
y jump and spin around. C.W. Videl stood right behind her, his normal uniform of camouflage pants and black shirt in place, only now he had a huge rifle propped up under his arm like a crutch.

  “What are you doing here?” Evie went to her grandpa and gave him a hug. Amy offered a little wave, still trying to get her heart rhythm down from its rabbit race.

  “Hunter called earlier, said he wanted me to stay while he was away. Something ‘bout some damn Mexicans.” C.W. leaned the rifle against the wall. “Evie girl, make me some sweet tea will ya?” C.W. pulled out a chair across from Amy. Evie went into the kitchen and poured some tea. He took a sip, leaned back in the chair, and stroked his long grey beard. “Ya’ll wanna fill me in?”

  Evie sat, met Amy’s gaze, then quickly filled C.W. in about Mavis and the Lobellos. The old man’s dark eyes narrowed beneath his busy grey brows and small reading glasses. “Good thing I’m here then. Hated to miss my date, but Trudy understood. Family first.”

  “Oh no, C.W., go on and see Mrs. Trudy. I don’t want to interfere with your plans,” Amy said.

  C.W. and Mrs. Trudy Van Meter were about as likely a couple as a grizzly bear and a house cat. Ever since Vietnam, C.W. had been different - as in borderline crazy. Mrs. Trudy, on the other hand, was head of the First United Methodist church, wore pressed dress outfits daily and never missed a Sunday in church.

  “Ain’t no question. You’re family too. I’m stayin’.” C.W. said.

  Amy bit back her argument knowing she wouldn’t win this fight and said, “Thank you.”

  “Besides, I seen Deputy Haskell sitting out front. That man is blind as a bat.” C.W. pulled a bag of chewing tobacco out of his front shirt pocket and put a wad in his lower lip. “So, I’m here til’ Hunter gets back. Now - you’re telling me that someone broke into your house and then into that Mexican’s house you got workin’ for ya? And you all don’t know if he’s dead, but you got his boy in there?” C.W. indicated the spare bedroom down the hall behind him.

  Evie sighed and leaned forward, still a little pale. “That’s right. And the guys are keeping their whereabouts all hush but I know they’re going after the gang.”

  Amy resisted the urge to tell her friend to go lie down and get some sleep. Dark shadows formed under her eyes, making her look like a wrung out washcloth.

  “What about the boy? If his pa is dead, you gonna ship him back to Mexico?” C.W. asked.

  Amy sat up straight, her muscles tense. Send him back? “Hell no. He’s going to stay with me.”

  “You let old C.W. know if someone tries to take him. The government thinks it knows what’s best for everyone whether you like it or not. I still got friends all over, they won’t ever find that boy.” His weathered face reflected straight conviction and Amy felt a measure of relief for his support. If someone tried to force Arturo away she would fight, and fight to the bloody end. Already she was thinking of him as her own child, while silently praying Pedro was alive and well.

  “Me, too. I’ll help out.” Evie nodded at the two.

  Amy’s emotional roller coaster kicked in and tears pricked her eyes. She hastily wiped them back and said, “Thank you.”

  “Now you start them waterworks girl and I’m gonna sit outside. Ain’t never been able to stand women’s tears.” C.W. stood and went to the kitchen, as if being close to Amy crying meant he’d catch some sort of disease.

  “I’m sorry,” she sniffed and sucked it up, “it’s been a really long day.”

  “Don’t apologize. You got every right to be upset. Make sure and let me know so I can get out of here.” He winked at her.

  Amy smiled, his old gruff exterior held a good man. One who protected his family with a cutthroat viciousness unrivaled by anything she’d ever seen. Last year, C.W. lead Hunter’s group to rescue Evie from her psycho ex-fiancée. Before that he’d defended his daughter and granddaughter with unrelenting determination.

  Amy hoped she could be half as fierce guarding her own family. Makeshift or not - Chloe and Arturo were hers.

  27

  Chapter 27

  “I’m in.” Ranger squatted low behind a stack of crates, held his weapon to his chest and scanned the area. He’d managed to infiltrate the Lobello’s compound through a drainage gate in the south wall.

  “Report.” Hunter grated through their hidden com system. The rest of the team remained outside the walls, waiting on Ranger to secure the west entrance.

  “Two guards with machine guns on the ground. One on each roof. Two at the front gate. Heading west.” Ranger eased from behind the crates, his weapon raised, careful to stick to the shadows. Night had fallen, but the area was lined with flood lights that provided a warm glow regardless of the moon’s absence. The compound had three buildings side by side, all of them constructed with painted cinder blocks, bars on the windows and metal doors.

  “Copy,” Hunter replied.

  Ranger ran in a crouch along the south wall, barely ducking down before a walking guard on the west wall spotted him. He held his breath, tucked his M-4 over his shoulder and pulled his K-BAR knife from his pants. The guard lit a cigarette and gave Ranger his back, the only opening he needed. Ranger crept forward on silent feet, covered the man’s mouth with his free hand, and then slit his throat.

  The guard dropped and Ranger dragged his dead weight to the corner, covering him with a discarded tarp. “One down.”

  Ranger tucked his knife back in its case and pulled his 9mm, holding it high as he approached the west entrance. The small back door was located dead center in the wall. One guard remained, machine gun held ready, scanning his surroundings.

  It wouldn’t be long before the guard noticed his partner’s absence, all Ranger had to do was wait him out. He crouched behind a metal drum, waiting, knife in hand. A few minutes later he heard footsteps approaching. Ranger tensed, ready to spring. The guard appeared and before the man could raise an alarm, Ranger drove his knife straight through his windpipe, cutting off his air.

  He dragged him to the same corner as his dead comrade and covered them both with the tarp. Pausing, listening for any alert. The only sound was cars speeding down the highway in the distance outside the walls.

  Ranger quickly secured the west wall and unlocked the door. Hunter, Riser and Merc stood waiting. Ranger spared a quick glance up at the buildings across the street where Aaron and Ethan had set up with their rifles.

  “Secure. We’ve got the two at the front gate, two more in front of the buildings and the three guards on the roof.” Ranger tucked his knife back into his pants once more and checked his M-4.

  “ATF and ICE are waiting for our signal. As soon as we’ve secured the hostages, they’ll move in.” Hunter said. The CIA took authority over the other government agencies in this instance. Normally, ATF would breach first, but TF-S’s new handler wasn’t willing to risk losing the intel. A stray bullet from an over eager newbie could take out the leaders of the Lobellos, which meant no intel.

  Merc, without a question the deadliest member of their team, nodded to the east wall, where the front entrance was located. “Me and Riser will take the front. You two take the buildings. Aaron and Ethan can take out the rooftop.”

  Hunter lifted his com and said, “Aaron, Ethan, you get that?”

  “Roger, Top. On your signal.”

  “Okay. Two minutes. Take out the rooftop.” Hunter dropped the com back to his neck and surveyed the area. His brother had more interest in this op than anyone else on the team. Ranger could feel the anticipation rolling off him in waves. “Move out.”

  The four men moved as one, splitting up when they reached the back of the row of buildings. The James brothers moved left. Riser and Merc moved right. They had to strike at the same time or risk alerting whatever guards remained inside the buildings.

  Hunter held up a fist and then flattened his hand. Ranger dropped. Merc spoke through the com, “Ready.”

  Hunter answered, “Three count. One. Two. Three.”

  Range
r exploded from behind the wall, slipping behind the first guard and silencing him with his knife. The second guard turned, weapon raised, and Ranger held the now dead man up as body armor.

  But before the guard could fire, Hunter shot him, the silencer on his 9 mm muffling the sound. The man dropped and Hunter dragged him between the buildings, Ranger following suit. Four down. Five to go.

  Ranger ducked back into the shadow of the building and watched as a shadow flew across the open ground. One of the guards fell to his knees, clutching his throat. The second turned and Merc slipped up behind him, wrapped his hands around the man’s head and snapped his neck like a twig.

  Ranger heard a grunt above him, then another.

  “Roof top secure.”

  “Front gate secure,” Riser said.

  “Building secure,” Ranger said.

  Hunter walked to Ranger’s spot, waiting on the other two team members to join. Neither of them had broken a sweat, or even raised their heart rate. The job was simple. Take out the Lobellos. Secure the weapons and hostages. And if the fucker was here, take Lee Brown alive. Riser and Merc joined the group a few seconds later.

  “Cord, ready,” Hunter said.

  Cord waited outside with ATF. He’d protested when they’d told him to stay out of the main mission, but Grey hadn’t fucking cared. The man had to be vetted fully before he could have a brother’s back. His history with the Marine’s as an elite scout sniper was great, but it didn’t mean he was Task Force material.

  “It looks like the women and children are being held in the north building. The men in the left. I couldn’t get much intel on the central building, but I think that’s where Santos is set up. Where Brown would be, too.”

  “You think?” Hunter’s harsh question would’ve sent a full grown man running.

  “Yeah, I think. Since last night, only two men have entered and left the building, I’m not a freaking magician who can see through walls.” Cord’s retort was just as deadly.