Before she realized her fingers were moving, she pulled up the number and hit the call button. Shaking, she lifted the phone to her ear. The phone rang three times before he answered. “Evangeline.” Her stomach dropped with dread. “I knew it wouldn’t take you long to see my reasoning.”
Evie swallowed spasmodically, trying to get her throat to work, to push the words out of her mouth. Her body fought her, as if it knew she shouldn’t be talking to him. “Marcus.”
Disgust swept through her from merely voicing his name. Evie bent forward, clutched the counter for support.
“I’ve been looking forward to getting reacquainted. Why don't you come over so we can discuss this matter in person?” His tone was so reasonable, almost likeable. But Evie knew what that practiced Southern drawl hid.
“What do you want?” Evie straightened and grabbed her beer, needing whatever liquid courage she could garner.
Marcus tsked. “Manners. I thought we’d worked through all this.” He sighed. Evie could picture the look of disappointment on his face. The resignation. Like she was a child caught coloring on daddy’s walls.
A child afraid of a spanking. Only Marcus didn't give spankings. Evie shuddered again. Flashes of dark closets and no food sparked in her mind. Her side throbbed and she fought the urge to rub her scar.
His brand. His mark of ownership.
No. No more. Her only hope of reclaiming her life lay in beating him. And if she had to do it alone, she would. Even if it was at the point of a gun. “What. Do. You. Want.”
She would figure out how to get the drugs and turn him over to the authorities. Just not in Mercy. She would have to go big. Maybe the FBI?
“We will have to work on that tone, too. Do I need to remind you what happens to bad girls?” His soft words slithered down her spine.
“We aren’t together any more. You don’t own me. I can talk any damn way I please. Now tell me what the fuck you want me to do.” Her voice boomed through the small kitchen.
He didn’t respond.
Evie heard him breathing hard through the phone. Knew he was waiting. Figuring out a way to gain the upper hand. Her chest locked down, her ribcage seeming to fold in on itself and crush her lungs.
If he had been in this room with her, she knew she’d already be on the floor. By now, she’d have broken bones.
Another flash—Evie crawling across the floor, trying to escape him. The smell of her burning flesh singing her nose. Unimaginable pain radiating up her side. The feel of smooth, polished hardwood under her fingers as she pulled herself along the floor.
Marcus’s voice yanked her back to the present. “Let’s dispense with the pretense that you’ve grown a back bone. Because we both know you’re only trying to put on a front for that pathetic little group of trash you call an organization. You will work for me. You will do exactly as I say. Or I will kill your white trash mother.” Marcus paused and Evie stood frozen in place. “Just like I killed your father.”
Bile blasted up her throat, threatening to erupt. A cold sweat broke across her neck.
“So you did set him up. You planted the drugs,” Evie said.
“I delivered a message. A message you got loud and clear.”
“You…you killed him to punish me?” Evie choked.
“Yes.”
Guilt punched her stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. Her knees buckled. Evie sank to the floor. She’d suspected this earlier, but he just confirmed her worst nightmare. It was her fault. Her fault her father was dead.
“I see I’ve gotten your attention. Now, let me be clear. You will deliver my shipment downriver. You will personally handle the process. Your boat. Alone. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“And if I don’t?” Evie said.
“Then I’ll deliver the same message to your mother.”
* * *
Evie had made a deal with the devil.
She wished she could call upon an angel to blast the asshole straight back to hell.
Messages. Marcus dealt in messages. Subtle ones. Veiled threats. But not with the Videls. No, his message to her was as clear as the note he had nailed to her father’s chest.
Evie had never found out what that note said, but the day after her father's funeral, Grandpa C.W. moved his camper into Maxine’s backyard. And that night, he called a family meeting. And that was when everything changed.
Bracing her elbows on the counter, she lowered her head into her hands. She'd safely skated below Marcus's radar for so long now, thinking she could carefully slide down the social ladder and out of sight.
Cold sweat trickled across her upper lip and bile rose up her throat again. Evie lifted the beer to her lips, trying to wash the burning back down.
Boom!
Her kitchen door rattled.
Evie jerked, slamming the bottle into her front teeth, the loud crack echoing through her bones. Pain shot straight up her nose and took root in her brain. "Ow!"
"Evie, it's me, Hunter. Saw your light on."
Evie rubbed her mouth and went to the door. "What are you doing here?" she asked, pulling the flowered curtain to the side.
"I was just out riding around. Saw your kitchen light on. Thought I'd see if you were still awake."
Evie leaned her head against the door and took a deep breath. Why couldn't he leave her alone? She was barely holding her sanity together as it was, and life with Hunter had never been calm and controlled. She knew she should just send him away for good, but her treacherous body didn’t seem to agree, because it sure wasn't her common sense that reached forward and turned the knob.
Hunter stood under her porch light, dark shadows painting the planes of his face. His shoulders dropped and he let out a long breath. Her heart tugged at his lost look and the tightness inside her chest slipped.
"A little stalker-ish, don't you think?"
Hunter shrugged, his massive size suddenly reminding her of the grizzly bear in the bar. God, he was sexy. Definitely all male, none of that metro crap. Just pure, raw sensuality and control. The intensity of his dark brown eyes was enough to drown her on dry land.
"You do realize it's two o'clock in the morning, right?" she asked. And she was wearing an old nightgown three sizes too big. Crap. Cheri’s comment about her clothes had resonated with her. First thing on her to-do list, shopping.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was so late. Did you wait up for me?" he asked, his tone teasing and light.
Evie caught herself wanting to smile, wanting to let him in and get close. But no, she'd done that before, and it had landed her in a pile of cow shit.
"I've had a long night and would like to get to bed. So…do you mind?" Evie tightened her hold on the door knob, her heart kicking her sternum like a toddler having a temper tantrum.
As she started to shut the door, Hunter's arm shot out, preventing it from moving an inch. "Actually, I really could use a beer. And a friend."
Evie studied him. His eyes looked haunted. Sad. Just like that night all those years ago. They had been a few years out of high school, desperate for each other, but about as stable as a boat with holes. They fought loud and long and hard. And it was Hunter who walked away. He'd given her his back and climbed into his truck, sparing her one last look before gunning out of her driveway on squealing tires. His eyes had that same glint to them tonight. "What's wrong?"
Hunter shook his head, his expression changing into a mask of smooth forehead and barely-there smile. To anyone else, he would have looked relaxed. But his eyes darkened from their melt-me milk chocolate to despair-dark espresso. "Please, Evie."
Evie's breath caught. Hunter James didn't beg. Or apologize. A man like him didn't even have the word mistake in his vocabulary. A part of her crumbled inside and she stepped back, closing the door quietly behind him after he followed her into the house.
He went straight to the fridge and uncapped a beer, but instead of downing it, he placed his drink on the island and turned to face her. They wer
e alone in her kitchen, no more than a few feet separating them. His arms crossed over his chest, the black T-shirt stretched tight over his bulging biceps. Veins popped on his forearms. Her mouth watered.
The quiet sounds of the kitchen—the hum of the refrigerator and water pinging from the leaky faucet—faded.
Hunter leaned back on the island. He was calm now. Lethally calm.
The skin across the back of her neck pulled tight and she rubbed at the tension there, needing to do something besides stand there under the concentrated light of his gaze.
But the need in his eyes and the pain in his soul pulled her toward him. She walked slowly across the room, not stopping until her toes touched his boots. "Please, tell me what's wrong."
His gaze focused on her lips for a mind-numbing moment before meeting her eyes. No matter how much he tried to hide it, Evie saw his pain. There was an unease in him that hadn't been there earlier.
She almost stepped forward and put her arms around him. Almost. Instead, she wrapped her arms about her own waist.
"We were sent on a mission. It was all going fine." He tapped a finger on his thigh, fast and strangely off beat. "We breached the compound looking for our target. But it was too easy. Of course, by then it was too late."
Evie's chest constricted. All this time she had pictured him jumping out of helicopters, doing the Rambo thing. He was as invincible in her dreams as he had been in real life. But Rambo didn't get taken down. Ever.
"I led my team to the building intel wanted us to check out. We might as well have followed the yellow-brick road. They were smart. They waited until we were in the center of the compound. We had no way out. We found our intel officer. He'd been dead for a while. Tortured."
Evie's hand flew to her mouth. The way Hunter said that… He could have been talking about fishing for all the emotion in his voice.
"I'm sorry." What else could she say?
"The gunfire started when we evacuated the building. I went first so I could distract the terrorists and my men could get out." Hunter's voice was still low and monotone, like he was giving a report on his truck transmission. Not life and death combat.
"Your leg?"
Hunter kept going, looking somewhere over her head. "After I got hit, it slowed the whole group down, but somehow we managed to get out. We made it." He picked up his beer and took a drink, seemingly on autopilot.
Evie leaned forward and laid her hand on his arm. "I'm so glad you're safe. That the rest of you got out okay." She didn't know what she would have done if he'd been killed. Would she have even known?
The thought brought her up short.
His harsh laugh scraped across her nerves. "That's just it. The rest of us didn't make it out safe."
Her veins froze. Who? Who didn't make it?
"I saw Ranger. He's okay."
"Yeah, me and Ranger are fine." His lips twisted, but the expression on his face didn’t even resemble a smile.
Who else? Evie wracked her mind. The problem was, the James brothers’ role in the military was about as clear to her as black glass. She never got specifics, no one did. "Hunter." Her nails dug into his arm and she wanted to shake him until the words came out.
He turned back to her, his careful mask gone. In its place was a despair so dark it stole her breath. If she hadn't been holding on to him, she would have doubled over. Someone had died. Someone she knew. Oh God.
"Shane didn't make it. He stayed behind to cover our escape, because I was too weak from my injury to do it myself."
Evie's lungs twisted, leaving no room for air. "Amy... Does she know?" The words ripped up her throat and brought tears to her eyes.
Hunter scrubbed a hand down his face. "She knew he was missing in action. She kept quiet. But now, tonight, the condolences officer showed up at the bar tonight looking for me. He wanted to take me to her house, but I knew it would be better for Ranger to tell her the news."
"Oh no. I need to be with her." Evie had her purse in hand and was at the door before she even realized her feet had moved. She dug and fumbled through her bottomless purse, but it was impossible to see through the tears. Her chest heaved as a sob escaped, and she covered her eyes.
Hunter's arms surrounded her and she turned into him, needing his strength.
"I'm so sorry, Hunter."
He squeezed her tighter, his masculine scent filling her senses.
"As soon as we regrouped we tried to go back for him, but it was too late. He was gone." A shudder wracked his body and Evie wrapped her arms around his waist. Hunter buried his face in her hair, his hot breath caressing her ear. A shiver worked down her spine.
"Our commander was notified that Shane was dead two days ago. He had to verify. The DNA matched." Hunter's voice was quiet with anguish. He didn't cry, but quiet tears slipped down her cheeks.
"It's my fault. It should have been me."
His words hit her hard. Evie pulled back and grasped his face between her hands. "You were shot. Injured. There was no way it was your fault."
Hunter's hands surrounded hers, trying to pull them away, but she held on tight and forced him to look at her, to see the truth in her gaze. "You said it yourself. You were ambushed. You're not responsible."
His gaze turned hot. "I will always be responsible for Shane's death."
Chapter 12
Pity and Pain. Not what Hunter wanted to see in Evie's gaze. Not when anger heated his veins and self-loathing filled his soul. Right now, he needed to forget all of that.
He needed Evie.
He focused on her soft lips. Small currents of lust shot from the points where her fingers touched his skin. He harnessed his desire, using it to drive away his dark thoughts.
When his lips touched hers, his unrest settled for a moment. He pressed harder, seeking more, and her lips parted for him.
He cupped her ass, palming those perfect cheeks, and nestled between her thighs. He forced her head back and caught her answering whimper in his mouth, swallowing it whole.
She fit against him perfectly. Sleek and smooth. Hot and curvy. Made for his hands alone.
Her fingers dug into his short hair, her nails scraping his scalp. He deepened the kiss, turned and pinned her against the refrigerator, and explored her with leisure.
She tasted so damn good. Too good. A mix of honey and sugar and spice. And damn if it wasn't the perfect distraction.
Hunter tilted his hips forward, pushing himself against her core, needing to get closer. Evie moaned, and the vibration of the soft sound massaged his insides. She bit down on his lower lip, tugging and licking. The sharp bite of pain followed by her soothing touch did all sorts of things to his restraint.
Hunter shoved his thoughts of failure away and locked them down tight. There wasn't room in his head for anything but the woman in his arms.
Hunter threaded his fingers through hers and lifted their hands overhead. Her satin skin caressed him. Her nipples hardened against his chest.
"God, I've missed this. I've missed you," Hunter whispered, grinding his cock against her harder, the thin strips of her nightgown the only thing separating them. He completely surrounded her, enclosed her in his body, his arms, his strength.
"You taste so fucking good." He growled against her lips and then buried his face against her chest. Too good. He should be slipping in questions, pumping her for information. Tracking down that missing weapons shipment he knew was meant for Al Seriq.
"Hunter." Evie pushed against his shoulders.
Her scent blocked his thoughts. She smelled so sweet. He wanted to eat her alive.
"This is too fast, I can't..."
"Yes, you can. You need this as much as I do.” His words were harsh with desire. Hunter lifted Evie and sucked her nipple through her nightgown, wringing a gasp from her. Her legs clamped around his waist and she bucked against him. "That's it, baby. Let go." He tugged harder, longing to rip her nightgown off and get to the bare skin beneath. Her nails dug into his wrists, tiny pinpricks of
pain and pleasure.
She was a goddamn drug and he was addicted.
"Hunter... We can't... We have to stop," she gasped out, her hips rolling in direct contradiction to her words.
"You don't want me to stop, baby." She needed to stop thinking and just feel. He couldn't form a thought except to get inside her and never leave. Fuck the mission.
"No, Hunter. Stop." She used force this time, pounding his shoulders, the impact breaking through the haze of lust.
His brain moved at the pace of a slug, barely able to process her command, but he forced himself to drop his head and take a deep breath and regain control. Of course, nothing less than a subzero shower could control his raging hard on.
"Shit, I'm sorry, Evie. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. I just..." He grabbed her waist and put her on the floor, the small gap between them feeling like the Grand Canyon after how close they’d been moments ago.
Evie leaned back and held a hand to her lips. "I understand. We're both hurting."
Hunter nodded, trying to focus on something other than the raging need inside him. "It's been raining a shit-ton since I've been back." Jesus Christ, he might as well be talking to the grocery store clerk.
Evie burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Just, you know. The weather?"
"Would you rather me talk about how bad I want to fuck you right now?"
Her laughter cut off abruptly and she shook her head.
He smiled. "Do you have a better idea?"
Evie swallowed and looked around the room. "Ummm..."
His body tightened, ready to dive in for more if she changed her mind, but a ball of black fur sailed from out of nowhere and landed on his head. "What the hell?" Claws locked into his neck, sending little trickles of blood dripping down his shoulders.
"Rooster! No!" Evie lunged forward and pulled the furry missile from his head. Sharp claws held on tight, scraping his skin.
"What is that?" Hunter's voice boomed through the room and the cat hissed and leaped from Evie's arms, claws outstretched. Hunter ducked sideways, swiping an arm to protect himself, and stepped into a bowl of water on the floor.
Men of Mercy: The Complete Story Page 10