Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  The cat ran back to its mistress, smart enough to recognize danger. Evie cuddled the scrawny creature in her arms, soothing it with soft words and slow strokes.

  "That is a he. And his name is Rooster." The feline had patches of orange and white mixed in with the black. A few bald spots. Its tail looked like it had been through a meat grater. But the mangy cat’s most notable feature was its black eye patch.

  Evie eased around the breakfast bar, like she knew Hunter was five seconds from making cat stew. Good idea.

  "The eye patch?"

  Rooster eyed him with one freakishly yellow orb and hissed.

  "He was almost dead when I found him. I finally got him eating and healthy. Now he's my little bodyguard. And he doesn't really like men. I'm guessing whoever blinded and skinned him was male."

  Rooster hissed again.

  "I can see that." Hunter kept a close watch on the mangy cat.

  "You're bleeding." Evie put Rooster out the back door. She walked back to Hunter and dabbed his neck with a finger. The answering sting came soon enough. "He can be a bit territorial."

  "Like Genghis Khan can be a bit aggressive." Shit. Cock blocked by a cat. Ranger would never let him live it down.

  "You should clean that up. I've got some alcohol and bandages upstairs."

  Evie led the way. Her full nightgown did little to conceal the sexy sway of her hips and the memory of how her ass felt in his hands almost hurt.

  She walked through the second door down the hall into a bedroom with the most God-awful wallpaper he'd ever seen. Pink. Purple. Blue. Flowers and stems. Ivory background. "Jesus." He'd stepped into his great-grandmother's bedroom.

  "I'm renting. I wouldn’t feel right about making any big changes to Ms. Buela's house."

  "Ms. Buela moved? Nursing home?"

  Evie dropped her head for a moment and wrapped a hand around one of the posts of the four-poster bed before answering, "No. She died in her sleep. Pastor Don said she went real peaceful."

  His head swam. Bombs, he could do. Missing body parts, he could do. Shit, he’d sewn his sergeant’s half-blown arm back on. But dead old ladies’ bedrooms? Hell no.

  "Are you okay?" Evie gave him a strange look.

  Hunter took a step back, edging toward the door. "Did she die in here?"

  Evie's smile was sinful and she seemed to revel in his alarm. "No, in the recliner downstairs. She was watching her favorite TV show."

  "Let me guess—The Shining?" The wallpaper. It was the wallpaper. Any minute two little girls wearing white dresses were going to come walking out of the closet.

  Evie choked off a laugh. "Wheel of Fortune."

  He paused, almost in the hall. "You got a guest bathroom?”

  "Only if you like purple better."

  She was laughing at him. Damn if he was going to let a girl make fun of him. Even if it was for the mission.

  "Okay. Let’s do this." Hunter sucked in a breath and headed into the bathroom, only to be brought up short by Pepto Bismol-pink walls. He caught sight of Evie behind him in the mirror, her hand hovering over her mouth again.

  "Did she ever have a husband?"

  "Not as far as I know."

  "I can tell."

  "Lots of women like pink."

  Hunter turned to face Evie. "Pink? I'm going to be lucky if I don’t come out of here smelling like roses."

  Evie chuckled and reached past him into a closet. She handed him a pink washcloth and a bottle of alcohol. He rolled his eyes.

  "Holler if you need anything else. The bandages are right in the cabinet." She shut the door behind her.

  Hunter turned and caught his reflection in the frilly vanity mirror. The grin on his face looked goofy and out of place, but it was his first real smile in who knew how long.

  Chapter 13

  Evie stepped out on the back porch, thankful she'd thought to repair the ripped screen last week. If anyone doubted the ferocity of Mercy's insect life, her house would serve as ample proof. Or at least it would have if the doubters had swung by a week ago. She'd walked outside into a storm of mosquitos, beetles, and flies, her bug zapper shooting sparks in a futile attempt to keep the critters under control.

  To get the situation under control, Evie had dropped a bomb, literally. She’d bought the repellant at the hardware store, set the timer, and run. All that was left after the explosion was three dustpans of dead insects and a layer of zapper-fried moths.

  Cheri and Amy had come over to help clean up.

  Now Evie would be going to Amy's house. But not for spring cleaning. Dammit.

  Why Amy? Hadn't she been through enough?

  And Hunter held himself responsible.

  This night was going down in her book of records as one of the shittiest in her life.

  She rolled her head side to side, forcing the small muscles down her spine to relax. She was wound up tight—still agitated by Marcus’s dark promises. And Hunter's reappearance in her life wasn’t helping.

  Except for that nagging, you’re-gonna-regret-it-later part of her brain that was doing a dance. No, it was doing the bump-and-grind.

  Her body stirred with urges she hadn't felt in so long she almost didn't recognize them for what they were. Images of his dark head lowered to her chest floated through her vision, and her nipples tightened, eager for his mouth.

  No. She had to stay in control. Keep it together. He couldn't walk in here and expect her to just jump into bed with him like he'd never left. Like nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

  Evie's stomach grumbled, sending her back into the house to check the cheese dip she’d put on the stove and grab a whiskey. Tonight called for something a little stronger than beer.

  She thought she heard something in the kitchen, but it was already a second too late. A hand wrapped around her throat and Sherriff Brown walked her backward onto the porch, leaving her kitchen door wide open. Evie screamed, but she couldn't get enough air to make a real sound.

  He pushed her against the wall, her feet dangling off the floor. The smell of tequila assaulted her nose.

  "My women know to have something better than cheese dip waiting." Brown leaned in and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek. Her stomach rolled and she would have gagged if she’d been able to suck in enough air. "Marcus let you get away with too much. If you were mine, I'd teach you how to be a real woman."

  Evie choked, stars floating in her vision. Her heart started beating triple-time.

  "Like right now. Silent. Your eyes begging. That's a perfect woman." Brown's voice rolled with enough menace to make Ted Bundy cringe.

  His lips trailed across her cheek and his teeth bit down on her lower lip until she whimpered. Evie kicked him as hard as she could, but her attempts were futile and frail. Her vision blurred, the overhead light seemed to flicker. The porch started fading.

  Brown's fingers finally released their hold and she collapsed to the floor, her knees slamming into the rough wooden planks. Pain shot up her legs, down her shins. She coughed and gagged, trying to suck in enough oxygen to keep herself conscious. Evie pushed up from the floor, but her arms were too weak.

  "Now this is where you belong. At my feet." Brown squatted and grabbed her chin, yanking her face to his. He handled her like she was property.

  Anger finally slid past her fear and she slapped his hand away. She jumped up, looked around, and found a weapon. Her pruning shears stood propped in the corner. Ten feet.

  She took a step, ready to lunge, but Brown's arm wrapped around her waist. His other hand yanked her hair and pain ripped through her scalp. This time she managed to scream, and she prayed Hunter would hear.

  "I'm here to deliver a message." Brown licked her neck, sliding his slimy tongue from her collarbone up to her ear.

  "I don't care what you're here for." She jabbed an elbow into his stomach.

  Brown grunted and pushed her. She stumbled but managed to catch her balance. Turning to face him, she started to slink backward, toward the stairs.
Toward Hunter.

  The sheriff’s face turned dark red. A fanatical gleam shone bright in his gaze. "The little kitten grew some claws? Don't worry, I'll remove them."

  Evie took another step back. Brown moved with her. She knew she wouldn't be able to take a trained law enforcement officer in hand-to-hand combat, not even with her diploma from self-defense class. She needed someone stronger, bigger, and more badass than the Hulk to help her. "Hunter!"

  Brown roared and lunged. She got in one more step backward before he threw her to the ground. His elbow landed in her stomach and Evie's knees bowed up. Air leaked from her mouth in short gasps, as if he’d punctured a lung. She couldn’t seem to get enough air. Stars danced overhead as she lay there, stunned.

  Brown's slap snapped her head to the right, sending pain exploding across her face. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. This can't be happening. Not again.

  "Like I said before you opened your fucking mouth, I'm here to remind you to do as you’re told."

  "Apparently you missed the memo. I’ve already agreed to do what he wants.” She squeezed the words past her clenched teeth. Brown’s face paled and a flicker of indecision skated across his eyes. “Uh-oh, did the big bad sheriff get left out of the loop?”

  Brown grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "Marcus can’t wipe his ass without me. Got it?”

  “Really? Then why are you so surprised we’ve already made an arrangement? Didn’t he tell you?” Brown’s grip tightened. The pain was excruciating, but Evie refused to cow to him. She would never submit to Brown.

  “You want to see what I can do? Want to see why you better do as I say?” Spit flew from Brown’s lips and Evie cringed away. Brown pulled a phone from his pocket and shoved it in her face. "Marcus might sit in the big chair, but only because of the real men on the ground.”

  "Real men don’t beat women. They don’t put on a fake badge and pretend to be a cop. You are the furthest thing from a man.” Evie punctuated each word. Rage seemed to roll out of her very pores.

  Brown’s lip pulled up sharply to the right. “Your dad said the same thing. Right before I blew his brains out.”

  Her heart stopped. Brown shoved his phone in her face. She tried to recoil from the video he pulled up, but the floor held her immobile. Trapped between a hard place and a sadist's hands.

  Her father. On his knees, his hands bound behind him, a gun pressed to the side of his head.

  She couldn't see who was holding the gun, but she saw the shoes. Cop shoes. Brown pants. “You coward.”

  "Watch, Evie. Watch and see what a real man can do.” Brown squeezed her jaw until she thought it would break.

  Her dad pressed his lips together into a tight line. His eyes were hard. Granite. Furious. He didn't beg, didn't so much as acknowledge the man holding the gun. Her dad, her hero. He'd never once caved to pressure. Never.

  She heard the retort of fire. Saw the bright yellow blast explode from the end of the pistol. Saw her dad fall to the side in the dirt.

  Her whole body went cold. Her mind shut down. Her lungs locked.

  She heard screams, but she didn't realize they were coming from her own throat until Brown slapped her again.

  "Shut up!"

  A gun clicked and she sobbed. But the sound wasn’t from the video. Hunter stood behind Brown, a pistol pressed to the back of the sheriff's skull.

  "Get the fuck off her." Hunter's voice was dark. Deadly. Welcome.

  Brown's eyes met hers. The rage ripping across his face was frightening.

  Hunter pressed the gun harder against Brown's skull, lowering the bastard's head closer to hers. Revulsion rolled through Evie’s body and she turned away. The sheriff’s nails dug into her jaw, but she kept silent.

  "Drop the phone and stand up. Keep your fucking hands where I can see them." Hunter punctuated each word. "Or I'll blow your goddamn head off those weak excuses for shoulders."

  Brown put his phone on the floor and lifted his hands. His uniform was wrinkled now, the strips of his rank almost as distorted as the man wearing them.

  Evie wanted to squeeze her eyes shut. Block them out. Block out the memory of that terrible video. She started shaking. She didn't know if it was from rage or shock or terror.

  But she grabbed the cell phone and got to her feet, her knees locked tight to keep from falling. It was evidence. She could use it against him.

  "Get out. Now. Before I kill you." Hunter's jaw locked tight, and his eyes… His eyes were almost black. Hunter’s pistol was still pressed to the sheriff’s skull.

  "You're going to regret this. You should have kept to your own, Hunter." Brown's voice shook with fear. Evie felt the first tinge of satisfaction and prayed Hunter would shoot the man.

  "I am keeping to my own. You fuck with her, you fuck with me. Now get up.”

  Evie's eyes widened just as Brown’s did. The sheriff turned to look at her but then whipped his attention back to the man holding the gun. He slowly rose to his feet.

  Hunter held the pistol in his right hand, his left cupping the grip. He pressed the weapon to Brown's forehead.

  "Out," Hunter bit out, his voice as deadly as the weapon in his hands.

  Brown backed down the back porch steps. "Don't forget my message, Evie."

  She grabbed the chair beside her before her knees buckled.

  Hunter fired a round, and the bullet sent a plug of grass and dirt flying into the air next to Brown. The sheriff took off around the side of the house. A few seconds later his tires spun out of her driveway.

  "You should have shot him." Evie trembled harder, her teeth chattering. The phone buzzed in her hand.

  The video.

  She threw the phone and ran for the trash can, no longer able to hold the bile inside.

  Hunter followed her and grabbed her hair, holding it off her face and rubbing small circles on her back.

  When she finished emptying her stomach, the tears started and Hunter pulled her into his arms, cocooning his body around hers. But nothing could protect her from what she'd seen.

  "He—he killed my father," she choked out between sobs. “He had it on video…and he made me watch.”

  Chapter 14

  Evie doubled over, clutching her stomach, and would have fallen to her knees if he hadn't grabbed her.

  Hunter lifted her in his arms. "Jesus Christ."

  He buried his face in her hair, inhaled her sweet scent, and prayed it would cap his rage. But each one of her sobs ripped open a fresh pit of anger.

  He carried her inside, sat on the couch, and held her there, unable to think of anything else he could do to ease her pain.

  Hunter stroked her hair, her shoulders, her arms. Anything to soothe her. "Don't worry about him. That fucker is going to feed the gators in Red Fork Bayou."

  Cows had been known to disappear down Red Fork Road and the only things to turn up would be horns and hoofs. Brown's bones were smaller and would be easier for their breed of gator to digest.

  She sobbed harder, clutching him like she feared she would fall through the floor if she didn't hold on tight enough. Earlier tonight, his only thought had been to get her to trust him so he could use her. Now all he could think about was protecting her. Shielding her. Keeping her safe.

  And killing the sheriff.

  "Evie, you need to tell me what the hell is going on." Hunter needed to know. He had to find out if she was really working with Marcus.

  Evie's sobs slowed to hiccups and her tremors reduced to an occasional shake. "I'm not ready to talk about...it."

  Hunter grabbed her shoulders, making sure to be gentle, and eased her away so he could study her. She blinked, sniffled, and looked away.

  "Evie, look at me." Hunter waited for her to turn back to him. "I came home to recover from being shot in combat. I expected to hang out with my family. Hopefully spend some time with you."

  Evie trembled again and Hunter cupped her cheek. He needed her to buy his line of bullshit, no matter how bit
ter the words tasted in his mouth. At least they contained a grain of truth. "I missed you. I was really scared you wouldn't even look at me, let alone talk to me, but I hoped. I hoped every day for the past three months, while I was holed up in that hospital."

  "Hunter..."

  "Let me finish."

  Evie leaned away from him. His tone had been drill-sergeant harsh and he realized he'd gotten way too used to talking to soldiers.

  "I get to you, finally and the goddamn sheriff attacks you in your own home. Makes you watch a video of your dad's murder."

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her pale cheeks.

  It felt like metal in a tornado was ripping up his insides. Her tears had always sent his hero syndrome into overdrive. Going into this thing, he'd prepared himself to see her cry. To beg and plead for his mercy. But now, actually confronted with this flesh-and-blood Evie, he realized he’d wasted his time. There was no preparing for this.

  "You need to tell me what the fuck is going on, honey. Because I feel like I just got stuck in a mud pit and the gators are circling." And if he didn't get her to admit the truth willingly, the CIA would take it from her. Either by coercion or force.

  Evie hung in his grip, wrung out and pitiful. Her left eye was already swelling. "I don't want you to get involved. It's not safe." Her breathing hitched.

  Hunter almost sighed. At least she hadn’t told him it was none of his business or tried to kick him out of her house. She was scared. And she needed him. He knew it. She knew it.

  "How about I pour us a drink? Got anything stronger than beer?"

  "In the cabinet over the fridge. Jack Daniels."

  His favorite. He and Evie used to sip the whiskey slow, savoring it as they watched flames leap in their bonfire. "I knew you thought about me."

  She stiffened. "Whatever. I can't help it if you have good taste in whiskey."

  Hunter couldn't hold back a small smile. He could tell the shock was fading. She would need someone to catch her when it disappeared entirely and reality set in. And he would be there.