Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  Evie stayed in that position, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped around her middle, and just floated. Her face dipped half-in and half-out of the water. Her eyes watered. Misery took a leading role over the pain. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she couldn't move. Didn't even want to try. Her awareness shrank to the small area around her body and the fact that she was floating.

  Nothing else registered.

  Then she hit something, only this time it was the top of her head. And it wasn't awful. She bumped it again. Evie blinked, coming back to full consciousness, and realized she had floated right up to the bar's front steps.

  All she had to do was get to the door. Up the steps. Three agonizing steps.

  Carefully, she stretched out an arm, but the pain was unendurable. Not a good idea. She took small, quick breaths and tried her other arm, the one on her uninjured side. Fire licked up from her hip to her chest.

  Painful but doable.

  She dug her left elbow into the wood plank of the next step up and pulled. The sharp wood corner of the step below the water scraped her shin. Evie continued to drag herself up one step at a time, using her knee, her elbow, anything that would get the job done. Finally, she collapsed onto the porch and rolled to her side.

  Evie inhaled, deep and slow. More pain. Too much rib movement. She took small, deep breaths, almost panting, barely taking in enough air to expand her ribcage, and prayed she hadn't broken a bone.

  When she thought she could move without passing out, she got to her knees. Each movement brought on a fresh wave of torture, and by the time she was on her feet, the night was fading in and out. Evie stumbled to the door, drunk on pain.

  Her bar was dark. The door swung shut behind her and she fell to her knees, barely managing to catch herself with her left hand. Splinters dug into her palm, but she didn't move. Not yet. She had to wait for the fresh wave of white noise in her head to pass. She thought briefly about checking her side, but then discarded the notion. She didn't want to see.

  A minute later Evie got to her feet again and surveyed the bar. Enough moonlight spilled through the windows to see the tables nearest her had been turned on their sides and most of the chairs were out of place and turned over. Barstools had been tossed across the room. It was like a freaking tornado had ripped through and demolished a ten-foot path straight through the place.

  Evie dragged one foot forward. Then another. Breathing through the pain each new step cost her. She tripped over something in her path, turned and saw a pair of black army boots.

  C.W. lay there on his back, blood trickling from his temple into his grey hair. A knife the size of her arm lay about a foot away. Evie stopped breathing, stopped everything, and dropped to her knees once more. She touched his neck, her whole body quaking and weak. She searched for a pulse and fell backward with relief when she found one. Strong and steady. C.W. had survived a POW camp for nearly twelve months. He'd been on three tours of duty. Had jungle rot. Malaria. He could survive a blow to the head.

  She placed a kiss on his cheek.

  She lifted her head and stopped. Something cold and hard had been pressed into her skull.

  "Stand up and keep your hands out where I can see them.” She knew that voice. Knew it deep in the bruises on her body.

  Evie stood, careful to keep her hands out; the press of his pistol dug into her with each movement. Breathe. Just breathe.

  “Now, turn around.”

  Evie complied, keeping her hands up. The wrong end of a pistol was aimed not three inches from her face. Evie stopped breathing.

  “I knew you would show up here." Sheriff Lee Brown’s gaze slithered down her body with venom.

  “I knew all I had to do was get to your family. And since you got to your mom first, I took the next best thing.”

  Wait, he thought her mother was safe?

  “You don’t know?” Evie managed the words. It was impossible to swallow around the boulder in her throat.

  “Don’t know what? That if you don’t do exactly as I say, I’m gonna put a bullet in your crazy grandpa?”

  Evie cleared her throat, buying time to get her racing mind under control. “No.”

  “No?” Brown stepped forward and pressed the gun into the center of her forehead. Evie bowed backward under the pressure.

  “I didn’t get to her in time. Marcus has her.”

  Brown held her gaze, his eyes blood shot with fury. She didn’t see him move, so the slap caught her by surprise. She'd been so focused on holding it together she hadn't seen his curve coming from the right. But this time she didn't fall. She stood up straight and wiped the blood from her face.

  “Call him if you don’t believe me.”

  “If you’re lying, you’ll regret it.” Brown, his hand not as steady as before, pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialed it, and held it up to his ear.

  “Do you have Maxine?” Brown said without any introductions.

  Evie couldn’t hear Marcus, but she could see the blood leave the sheriff’s face. “What do you mean? Dammit, we had a deal.”

  Evie took a small step back, hoping to cash in on his distraction.

  “Don’t you fucking move.” Brown lifted the gun back to eye level. Evie froze.

  “You want me to bring her to you? Well, we need to talk about that. The way I see it is, I got what you want. And if you want her so bad, you should be willing to pay for it.”

  Brown held her gaze, his face turning red. His lips pressed together in a tight line. The phone was pressed to one ear, the gun held to her head.

  “How about I put a bullet in her skull right now? Then how will you find your precious revenge?” Brown stepped forward and pushed the nozzle into her forehead again. Evie swallowed, fear freezing her thoughts. Her body.

  “That’s better. I thought you might come around to my way of thinking. I get my cut. I just want what I was promised. You can have the girl.”

  He hung up the phone, slipped it back into his pocket, and then grabbed Evie’s arm. He yanked her to the door and out onto the back porch. Her boat bobbed in the water, tied to the porch rail. It was still there.

  Brown let go of her arm, but the gun he held didn’t waver. “Get on the boat.”

  Her muscles pulled taut as a stretched rubber band ready to snap. Tremors threatened to overtake her entire body. She went out the side door, stiff and scared, and climbed into the boat.

  Brown boarded behind her. “Drive. You know where we’re going.”

  Evie headed into the covered cabin. Betsy was spotless. Metal. Dark green and brown. Familiar. Only now she wasn’t taking a pleasure cruise, she was driving to her doom.

  The cab was lined with very small head-high windows. Bulletproof. The original 50-caliber had been removed and stored, but Betsy still had her machine gun mounted inside the cabin. Nothing and no one could see the weapon unless they boarded the boat without permission.

  And no one boarded Betsy without permission.

  She could open a hidden slot in the cab and slide the nozzle out if needed. The middle of the boat opened into a hidden compartment more than capable of hauling a very large load of weapons.

  How was she supposed to get out of this?

  “I said get going,” Brown said.

  Evie turned and gave the sheriff a frown. “I can’t until you untie us from the porch.”

  He stepped forward, instead of back, and grabbed her jaw. “You sass me again and I’ll make sure you suffer. Got it?”

  Evie managed a nod and Brown let her go for long enough to untie the boat. Evie worked her jaw, making sure she still had movement in the joint.

  She spun back toward the wheel and turned the key. Betsy turned on with one try. Smooth and predictable.

  The boat was a small gun ship that had been perfect for taking out enemies down a river or canal in Vietnam. Maybe it would help her take care of her own river rats.

  Brown's boots clanked on the metal floor. He grabbed her hair and ripped her head bac
k. "Just because I can't kill you–yet–doesn’t mean I can’t cause you serious pain." He yanked back to emphasize his point. "Got it?"

  Evie ground her teeth together. "Got it."

  Brown all but threw her against the steering wheel and Evie had to grab it to keep from falling. Pain, sharp and instant, punched her side. She gasped and hunched forward.

  Brown stalked off and patrolled the edges of the boat.

  When she could breathe again, she flicked on the overhead lights and steered Betsy away from the bar. The water was littered with all sorts of obstacles. Limbs, hub caps, yard decorations. She drove through huge clumps of debris at a speed beyond sanity, all the while keeping her eye out for killer trees.

  She had to hurry. If they didn’t get to Marcus within thirty minutes, he would start in on her mom.

  Evie forced the threatening panic attack down and increased the boat’s speed. Betsy could take a little damage. She had to.

  Her gaze fell on the small glove box hidden beneath the steering wheel. Holy crap. C.W.’s pistol. He held a firm belief in keeping himself and his vehicles armed.

  "You remember the last time we were at Marcus’s lodge?" Brown moved closer.

  Evie scrambled to think. When?

  "If I remember correctly, you were a big hit that night." Brown was right behind her now. His hand sliding up her hip.

  Revulsion turned her stomach. Evie's grip could have crushed the steering wheel. She remembered all right. Most of it, anyway. The last half of that night had been masked in total blackness.

  "I remember how beautiful you were." Brown's voice was right at her ear, sending a chill down her spine.

  Evie eased toward the glove box and turned the latch.

  "How bad I wanted a turn instead of just being the camera man." Brown bit her neck. Hard. Evie gasped and thrust her hand forward. Her fingers wrapped around the butt of a pistol.

  "You know what? I think Marcus has held out for long enough. It's my turn. Right now. Shut off the boat." Brown's hand slid to her breast and tightened. She struggled to keep from dry heaving as she slowly pulled the gun to her stomach. Then she turned the boat off.

  "You’re right. It is your turn." Evie spun around in a quick motion and raised the pistol. Brown’s weapon was still holstered at his side.

  "You know what I remember about that night? I remember how you laughed when he hurt me. How you egged him on." Evie took a step forward. "I remember the humiliation."

  Brown edged backward and held up his hands. "Now, Evie. Calm down. I was just playing."

  "Playing?" She was on the verge of hysteria, but she didn't care. This man had been there for almost half of her beatings. Her torture. And he'd enjoyed every minute.

  And he'd killed her father.

  Her finger tightened on the trigger. Brown's gaze fell to the gun and he swallowed. "You shoot a law officer and you'll be on death row."

  "Not if they don't find your body." Evie took another step forward. And another. Brown's feet shuffled backward.

  She didn't miss the quick glance he gave to his pistol.

  "Don't even think about it." She kept a few feet between them. "Turn around."

  "Your gonna shoot me in the back?" Brown said. But he turned anyway, his hands slipping down to his sides.

  "I mean it, touch that gun and I'll put a bullet in your head." Evie aimed at his back. She didn't want to kill him like that. It would be way too easy. But she would if he gave her no choice.

  "You won't do it. You’re too soft hearted." Brown kept edging his hand down toward his gun.

  "You killed my father. I will kill you. I have the video, the evidence. Thanks to you. I know where Marcus is keeping my mom. The way I see it, I don't need you anymore." Evie held ready. Waiting on him to move. She didn’t need to tell him she’d lost the phone.

  "What do you want?" Brown asked.

  "I want you off my boat. Right. Now."

  "You're crazy. I get in this water, I'm as good as dead."

  "It's a chance. It’s more than you gave my family." Evie answered. Her hands clenched tighter around the butt of the gun.

  "Let’s talk about this. I can help you. I can get rid of Marcus for you," Brown said, his voice groveling.

  Evie smiled. "Now that's just how I like my men. Begging."

  Brown stiffened and she knew she’d struck deep. "You bitch."

  Brown's hand fell to his pistol. He spun around so fast she couldn't think. Gunfire exploded and Evie fell back.

  Chapter 31

  He'd gone to Maxine's. Found it empty. Now Hunter was parked behind his dad's truck in front of The Wharf. The door was open, but it was empty.

  His fist slammed into the vehicle’s back door. "Dammit." He shook his hand, blood trailing from his knuckles. He’d left a dent in the new metal.

  "You should save that for the bad guy." Hoyt approached, Jared and Hank following right behind him. The moon was tucked behind the clouds again, and there were no vehicles on the highway this close to the river. The river kept moving, her rushing water filling up the night.

  "I'm just warming up," Hunter said.

  Headlights appeared on the road. Ranger. He parked his bright red truck on the shoulder behind Hunter and got out.

  Hank lifted a spotlight overhead and surveyed the slope from the highway leading down to the river. "I see a pair of boots."

  "Lights on at The Wharf," Hoyt chimed in.

  Hunter didn't wait, but ran down hill, stopping just above Evie's discarded boots. "Shit. Dad, shine that light on the bar, see if you can make out a boat."

  "No boat, but I can see someone moving around in there." Hunter was in the process of kicking off his boots when Ranger's hand fell on his arm.

  "Hey, instead of doing this the hard way, why don't we just take that?"

  Hunter followed Ranger's pointed finger to right below the bridge, where a shiny Bass Tracker Pro had floated.

  Hunter took a deep breath. He had to get his head on straight. Thinking like this, or not thinking, was what got people killed.

  "Thanks, bro," Hunter said.

  "You good now?" Ranger asked. His brow was raised, but the look in his eyes was understanding. And damaged. They shared a connection few others could conceive of and Hunter knew how bad Ranger was hurting right now. Probably more than Hunter. But his brother had sucked it up and thought of the mission first.

  And so would Hunter. “Yeah. Let’s move."

  They loaded onto the boat and Hank steered them to the front door. Hunter grabbed the porch rail, tied them off in a makeshift anchor, and all five men climbed onto the porch, guns ready. "Me first, then Ranger. Jared, Dad, you take rear. Hoyt, keep watch."

  Hunter knew his dad would chafe at being left outside, but he didn't care. He wasn't letting him walk in blind.

  After slamming a shoulder to the door, Hunter burst inside, gun held high, his team right behind. He scanned the room quickly, took in the disarray, and then saw C.W. sitting back on a couch in the corner, legs spread, head tilted back with a Ziploc bag of ice pressed to his eye.

  "Figured somebody'd show up sooner or later." C.W. didn't even lift his head.

  "How do you know we weren't gonna shoot you, old man?" Ranger holstered his gun and Hunter did the same.

  "Cause I knew it was you. And I know what you're here for."

  "How the hell did you know it was me?" Hunter asked and crossed the room to squat down in front of him. "Jared, come check him out."

  Jared was not only one of the best marine snipers on record, he was also a top-notch medic. He approached and lifted the ice from C.W.’s face and let out a low whistle. "Bet you got one hell of headache."

  "I've had worse." The old man's eyes were black and small in his wrinkled face, but they were also intelligent and cunning. And his gaze was narrowed on Hunter. "So, you wanna tell me what the hell you’re really doing here? Because you sure as shit didn’t come back to make up with my granddaughter."

  Hunter felt all eyes
fall on him. Hunter rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, unsure of what to reveal and at the same time awed by C.W.'s vigilance. But at this point, he didn’t care.

  "We're here because Marcus and Brown are trying to move a load of weapons and they’re setting up the MRG to take the fall. They want to use your bar to launder the money. And Evie to transport."

  C.W. didn’t move. Didn’t look surprised. "Shit. I didn’t see Marcus, that weasel, but his little lackey Brown was here waiting.”

  Hank, who’d joined them in the main room once it was clear there weren’t mercenaries awaiting them, took off through the kitchen only to return a few seconds later. "She's gone. The office is trashed." He turned to C.W. "Did you hear him say where they were headed?"

  Had Hunter thought the man's eyes were black? Now they were like pitch-black holes of death. “You need to tell me right now-did you make a deal with Marcus?”

  C.W. wiped the blood out of his eye. “If you’re looking for me to feel guilty, you’re gonna be lookin’ a long time. Me and Maxine made the deal with Marcus. We told him we could move his shipment. But no one else knew we did.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch. You know what he did to Evie and you worked with him anyway?” Hunter said, his tone harsh, his voice loud. He stalked forward, towering over C.W., ready to shake the old man until his bones snapped.

  “You think you know what’s going on, but you don’t. So sit down, shut up, and listen, if you want any chance of getting my girls back.”

  C.W.’s command stopped Hunter in his tracks. That wasn’t the tone of a beaten man. “You’ve got two minutes.”

  “I figured out Marcus was responsible for Tom’s murder. He and Brown set my boy up. Maxine knew too. We made the deal with him for revenge. We planned to steal the drugs and turn him over to the FBI. No one else knew. But then he involved Evie and our plan went to shit. That’s why me and Maxine were here tonight, figuring out what to do next.” C.W. held Hunter’s gaze, unflinching.

  “Drugs? He is moving goddamn weapons to a radical terrorist.”

  “Shit,” C.W. let out under his breath.

  “How do I know you’re even telling the truth? That this wasn’t some big money-making scheme gone wrong?” Hunter said.