Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  He reached between her legs and stroked her clit. Amy writhed against him. Ranger slammed into her, over and over, rubbing her. Taking her. Fucking her with long strokes until they fused together as one.

  He raked his finger hard across her and she screamed. Her already tight ass spasmed around his cock, her climax so strong it ripped his own free. He grabbed her hips with both hands and slammed to the hilt, releasing himself completely.

  Unable to break the tender bond between them yet, Ranger stayed planted firmly inside, and rolled to the side, taking her with him. His chest to her back, enjoying the small spasming aftershocks of pleasure. He wrapped his arms around her, moved her hair from her neck and nuzzled her there.

  They lay there together, both of them panting and out of breath. His cock was still hard, but he knew she couldn't take more tonight. No matter how much he wanted it. Careful not to hurt her, Ranger eased from her body and carried her to the shower. Then he sat her on her feet and placed a tender kiss on her swollen lips. The look of sleepy satisfaction was evident in her flushed cheeks and lowered eyelids.

  Ranger turned on the shower and guided her inside, washing her body first, then himself and drying them both off. Amy didn’t protest his ministrations and Ranger felt a small measure of satisfaction. He carried her back to the bed and snuggled in with her. She fell asleep almost instantly but his brain kicked into overdrive.

  Would tonight be enough to break down the rest of her barriers? Would she give in and let him into her life? He kissed her cheek again, finding it more and more impossible to keep his hands from her. He hoped he’d managed to anchor her to him. He prayed for it.

  Because tonight he’d gone all in, he’d given her his body and heart. He didn’t know what he would do if she denied him in the light of the rising sun.

  Chapter 13

  Amy woke to sunlight streaming through windows and luxurious warmth cocooning her body. Ranger’s arm draped across her waist, the weight heavy and heavenly at the same time. His warm chest swelled against her back with each breath, his skin smooth. She wiggled, needing to feel a little friction of skin on skin.

  He made a sweet sound in his sleep and pulled her tight against him. Her butt snuggled against his growing hardness and heat flooded her cheeks.

  He’d consumed her last night and she’d let him. Begged him. He’d taken her. Hard. And in places she’d never imagined. He’d given her more pleasure than she’d ever dreamed. Unable to hold still, Amy glided her fingers down his forearm, tickling the growth of blond hair. Images from last night pinging her brain. Ranger pounding into her, crushing her resistance with every thrust. Soothing her aching body with soft languid kisses.

  It was like he knew what she needed, when she needed it. When she needed him to demand she give herself to him and when she needed a slow hand.

  Last night hadn’t been about just sex. He claimed her, body and soul. Ranger made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t after just one night from her. He wasn’t after a quick lay. No, that would be easier. What he wanted wasn’t just her body. He wanted her heart, mind and soul.

  And he didn’t want to replace her dead husband. He wanted to share his memory with her. He wanted them to heal together. He wanted to raise her daughter.

  Ranger James had taken one giant wrecking ball to the walls of protection around her heart and demolished them. Leaving her chest aching. Feeling. Since the news of Shane’s death she’d gone unemotional, unfeeling and unresponsive. Living to take care of Chloe and earn a dollar. That’s it. She’d shut down and perfected her gut response of ‘I’m fine’ whenever anyone asked how she was doing.

  When in reality she’d been anything but fine. She’d been a robot. A machine. Her emotions laid to rest with her husband.

  And she’d been fine.

  But Ranger didn’t accept her self-imposed isolation. He wouldn’t let her go it alone. He drove her crazy calling, stopping by to check in. And every time he showed up unannounced she felt.

  But she didn’t want to feel. Feeling hurt. Feeling reminded her she was alone.

  Amy grabbed Ranger’s hand and pressed it to her aching chest, needing his healing touch.

  Something changed last night. Emotions overtook her. Tears threatened her eyes. How could what they did be alright? Her with Shane’s best friend? His teammate’s wife?

  Would the rest of the world understand?

  He was her emotional bloodhound - sensing when to go easy on her and when to push her. If it were left up to her, Amy would still be that wooden statue imitating her former self. A single parent. Single business owner. Single.

  Could she open her heart to Ranger James? He was Special Forces. SF’s didn’t get to stay and play happy family. They got called out, sometimes with no warning. They were gone a lot. And sometimes, they didn’t come home. Could she handle another loss?

  Could Chloe?

  Someone knocked on her door. Amy’s body went ice cold. The sound still gave her chills, haunted her dreams. Her nightmares. What time was it? Who would be knocking this early? Maybe it was Bo Lawson with news about Santos.

  They knocked again. Amy jerked upright. Someone was at her door and she was lazing in bed, naked, with Ranger James, thoroughly satisfied.

  Her discarded clothes lay in the kitchen, right beside Ranger’s. Careful not to wake him, she eased from the bed and slipped into her closet. With speed born of desperation, Amy yanked on a cotton sundress and raced into the kitchen, easing the bedroom door shut behind her.

  She passed by the folded flag and picture of Shane on the mantle, ignoring the small flash of guilt. No. She’d mourned long enough. She wouldn’t feel guilty. She had a flesh and blood man wanting her heart. Wanting to be part of her life. Her daughter’s life.

  Amy grabbed the doorknob and turned, eager for news. Only the person standing there wasn’t Bo Lawson. An iceberg of dread slammed into her with the force of the freaking Titanic.

  Mavis Carter. Her worst nightmare.

  Her stomach dropped to the floor and Mavis stomped on it with polished leather pumps.

  Saturday. How could she forget about today? The third Saturday of the month.

  “Are you going to just stand there like an idiot or invite me inside?” Her mother-in-law’s voice laced with annoyance, pierced her chest.

  “I... I overslept.” Amy tried to sound calm, but she sounded like she swallowed a frog with the flu.

  “I can see that.” Mavis stood there, swollen face resembling an over-ripe grape about to bust in her perfectly pressed purple suit. Had her second neck fold increased to three?

  “I’m sorry, can you give me a minute to get ready?” Amy gripped the doorknob, trying to think of any excuse to keep Mavis out of her house. Forget southern hospitality. If her mother-in-law found another man in her bed it wouldn’t be the Titanic sinking. Her house would turn into Pearl Harbor.

  Mavis huffed and pushed into the house. “And you expect me to stand there on your front porch in this heat? I told my Shane you weren’t a lady.”

  Amy checked the urge to plant a foot up her mother-in-law’s flabby ass and shut the front door. Keep Mavis contained. Keep her out of the kitchen and as far from Amy’s bedroom as possible. “Why don’t you have a seat on the couch and I’ll put on some coffee for you while I get dressed?”

  “That lumpy old couch? No thank you, I’ll sit right here. You should have let my son buy that nice leather one over at King’s Furniture when he wanted it. Now he will never get the chance to have nice furniture.” Mavis plopped back into Shane’s recliner, or what used to be his recliner, and dabbed at the corner of her eyes.

  The zipper holding Amy’s repressed anger came undone. It wasn’t like she’d told Shane no out of spite or some sort of control grab. She’d told him no because they flat out didn’t have the money to pay for a new couch. They’d been too busy trying to cover their existing bills after Shane bought that shiny new jacked up four by four. His military pay coupled with her earnings from wa
iting tables at the Wharf covered the basics. Not leather couches and King Ranches with air-conditioned seats.

  But as much as Amy wanted to tell Mavis where to shove her comment, she had a matter altogether more pressing. She had to get Mavis out of her house before Ranger woke.

  The thought gave her fear of discovery a shot of steroids and left her hands shaking and cold sweat dripping down her neck. “I’ll start the coffee.”

  “Make sure you put three teaspoons of sugar in my cup. And not that fake stuff either. And bring me the picture of my baby so I can hold him close.” Guilt trip? More like guilt voyage around the planet.

  Amy grabbed Shane’s photo from the mantle, trying to steady her hand and pass it to Mavis. Whatever it took to keep the woman corralled and quiet. “Be right back.”

  She bolted from the room, hit the brew button on the coffee maker and rushed into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. Today of all freaking days. What had Amy done to piss off fate?

  * * *

  Ranger lay sprawled on the bed, his massive chest taking up over half of the mattress. His blond hair mussed with sleep. His expression peaceful. Relaxed. And so heartbreakingly handsome it took every ounce of her willpower not to dive back in there with him.

  But fate was a twisted bitch insistent on carving out her pound of flesh. Mavis would only sit still for so long before she started snooping around. And the two-by-fours nailed over her kitchen door could catch a blind man’s attention.

  Amy rushed back into the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth at warp speed. She yanked a brush through her hair and didn’t even attempt makeup.

  She ran back through the bedroom, pausing for one last look. As if sensing she were near, Ranger rolled to his side, one arm reaching out in his sleep to the empty space where she had slept. Her heart tugged at the gesture. He’d been so open and honest with her. He wanted her, he wanted all of her.

  Amy trembled and took a step back, unsure if she had anything left to give.

  She exited the bedroom and shut the door behind her. The coffee should be done by now. Mavis could have a cup while Amy got Chloe dressed and ready.

  “What on earth?” Mavis stood in the kitchen, staring at the fragments of broken doorframe and glass still lying on the kitchen floor.

  Amy’s heart stopped beating all together. Ranger’s clothes lay just out of sight, but if Mavis came in the room any further...

  “Stop. There’s glass. I haven’t cleaned it up yet.” Amy moved to stand between her mother-in-law and the clothing.

  “Amy Carter, what did you do?” Mavis propped a hand on her more than generous hip, glaring at the mess.

  “I tried to break into my own house.” Amy immediately slapped a hand over her mouth but her smart-ass comment was out and she couldn’t pull it back in. She knew better than to poke a hornet’s nest.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What, you don’t like the way I redecorated?” She poked alright, and the hornets flew out with a venom.

  “You little hussy. I don’t need your smart mouth. You can go to the cemetery by yourself. I’m sick and tired of wasting my time on a piece of trash like you.”

  Amy’s first instinct was to turn tail and run. Mavis with her full venom unleashed was as pretty as rotting cow manure. But the calm control she’d perfected over the past year didn’t rise to the forefront. No, Amy lifted her foot and stepped right in the big pile of shit.

  “Good, cause this piece of trash is sick and tired of listening to your big fat mouth.”

  Mavis jerked back as if slapped. Good. Amy would be willing to bet no one in the state had had the guts to talk back to her. Her already bulging eyeballs seemed to swell, and Amy prayed they didn’t pop out of her head. “You-you-”

  “Listen, why don’t you just go? You can stop coming out here for your monthly guilt trips and I can get on with my life. You can pretend like you never had a daughter-in-law.”

  Mavis made a full recover. “You can go on with your life while my son lays rotting in the ground? I don’t think so. I’ll be out here every third Saturday for the rest of your miserable life.”

  “Why? Why can’t you just leave me in peace?” Amy had blown her top and now had no reserve fuel left to carry the fight.

  “Because, if you hadn’t made him so miserable, he never would have joined the military in the first place.”

  “Are you serious? Are we talking about the same person? Because Shane Carter was never made to do anything.”

  “He didn’t have a choice.”

  “If he was so damn miserable he should have asked for a divorce.”

  Mavis gasped-and oh unholy mother of Jesus-divorce. What a blot on the family name. “Divorce? You know how I feel about divorce.”

  “So maybe Shane was too scared of you to ask for a divorce. Maybe it was your fault.” Amy hurled the accusation.

  “I can’t believe you said that. A sinner like you, daring to question my good judgment about my boy.” Mavis pointed a long fingernail in her face. “I’ve tried to be good. I’ve prayed for your soul and prayed for the patience to deal with you, but no more.”

  “While you’re doing all this praying, maybe you should pray for yourself, cause you’re the rottenest evil person I’ve ever met.”

  “Well I never!”

  Amy held up a hand. This was going nowhere. “Please just go. I have to clean up my kitchen and call the sheriff with my official report. Someone tried to break in last night. The last thing I need is more drama.”

  “Someone broke in?” Mavis put a hand to her neck.

  “Yes. Not that you care. But I am tired. I was up all night. I really don’t have the energy for this.”

  Mavis seemed to deflate, her shoulders sagging for a brief instant. Concern maybe? “I told you to sell this place didn’t I? Shane never wanted to live out here on this run down farm. You should have listened to us.”

  Had she thought Mavis was capable of concern? As much as Dahmar had for the human race.

  “Shane agreed we would live out here.” Amy couldn’t hold in her annoyance.

  Mavis huffed, her heavy jowls jiggling. She reminded Amy of that giant evil marshmallow man on Ghostbusters - too bad Amy didn’t have a laser gun.

  “Well, this place is filthy.”

  “I would have cleaned it, but someone showed up at the ass crack of dawn uninvited.” Amy’s tolerance for hateful ex-mother-in-laws had reached the limit.

  “Unplanned? It’s the third Saturday. You know what happens today. It’s not my fault you lazed in bed all morning,” Mavis said.

  Amy forced her voice to drip with sweetness and resisted the urge to grab a shard of glass off the floor and stab Mavis. She had to get her out of the house. “You’re right. Now, please go.”

  Mavis’s eyes all but disappeared in her swollen face, but she turned and walked back into the living room. “Make sure you clean up all that glass before you let my grand baby crawl around in this pigsty.”

  Amy waited until Mavis disappeared and let out one long breath. She’d done it. She’d gotten Mavis out of her house and bypassed the nuclear bomb in her bedroom.

  Now she had time to grab her broom, sweep up the glass and maybe make breakfast. Or she could crawl back in bed with Ranger...

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say those mean things to you. It’s just that...I miss him so much.”

  Amy froze, broom in hand on a half-sweep. Mavis stood inside the kitchen door, Shane’s photo clutched to her generous chest. Tears. Real live tears dragging her black eyeliner down her cheeks. “I know I’ve been hard on you. And it’s not right for me to blame you.”

  Mavis took a step forward, her hand covering Amy’s own. The broomstick the only solid object holding her upright.

  “What?” Not the most poetic response, but her mother-in-law had shocked the brainpower right out of her.

  “I’m going to try harder to be nice. To be a mother to you. Lord knows you need one.” The small sliver
of hope inside Amy cracked a little. Mavis’s version of nice still had vinegar.

  But part of Amy understood. The woman had lost her only child. Her reason for living. If anything ever happened to Chloe...she couldn’t even finish the thought. She covered Mavis’s hand with her own. “I know it’s hard. It’s been so hard for me. I can’t imagine how much you hurt.”

  They’d both lost someone. Amy had lost her husband. Mavis lost her only son.

  “You really are a good and true wife. You’ve been there every month, putting fresh flowers on his grave.” Mavis wiped her pudgy hand down her pressed pleated pants leg. She looked away, the first time Amy had ever seen her avoid her gaze. “I was wrong. About you. You really did love my son.”

  Her mattress creaked in the bedroom, Ranger made some kind of cough snore sound and the quiet settled back down. Amy froze and her heart clawed up her throat.

  “What was that?” Mavis peered around her shoulder.

  Not now. Please stay asleep. Please stay asleep. “Nothing.” Amy's voice came out higher than normal and she cringed.

  “That didn’t sound like nothing.” Mavis pulled her hand from Amy's and her hawk like gaze zeroed in on her bedroom door.

  Amy needed to think of something. Fast. Before Mavis stormed into her bedroom and found Ranger in her bed. Amy swallowed and glanced around, but for what? What would be her excuse? Her brain blanked.

  “I know I heard...” Mavis’s voice trailed off and Amy closed her eyes in resignation. She knew without turning around that her bedroom door was no longer empty.

  “No wonder you didn't want to tell me.”

  Amy opened her eyes, steeling herself for the explosion about to take place. But Mavis didn’t scream or rant or rave.

  Unable to stand to torture a moment longer, Amy whipped around and had to grab onto the counter to keep from falling to the kitchen floor.