Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  “Thanks.” Amy closed the door, went back to the box, and started to drag it to the truck. Sweat dripped down between her breasts by the time she’d pulled the heavy trunk the twenty feet to the truck and lowered the tailgate. She stood and fanned her new shirt out from her chest, attempting to circulate some air.

  Evie hopped out, took one look at Amy and shook her head. “We need help.”

  “Yeah, I’m not leaving without it. Not now.”

  “Wait here.” Evie went off in the direction of the office, reemerging a few minutes later with a familiar face in tow.

  “Now Ms. Amy, you can’t lift that thing by yourself. You shoulda come got me from the get go.” Steve Jones, lifelong resident of Mercy, towered over the women in his Big Smith overalls and sleeveless t-shirt.

  “Thank you so much. I tried, but I just can’t pick it up. I had no idea it was so heavy,” Amy said.

  “No bother at all.” He bent down and picked the trunk up with ease and placed it in the back of the truck. “I know I should have come by sooner, but I'm sorry for your loss. Shane was a good man. Served his country. Wish we had more like him.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me and I know it would mean a lot to him,” Amy said.

  “Anytime, ma'am. Let me know if I can help you out in any way.” Steve said and then turned and went back in the office. Amy slammed the tailgate shut, locked up the shed and hopped back in the car.

  “I need to see what’s inside. I want to know what his life was like all those months away.” Amy pulled back out on the highway and sped toward Evie’s turn off. They’d built the log cabin on Hank’s property, out in the woods, but not far from the river. Not far from the Wharf.

  “I can’t even imagine. To know if something happened to Hunter and that’s all I had left.” Evie stared out the window and Amy felt the need to comfort her friend.

  “You know as well as I you can’t think like that. Hunter is a strong man. And now he has something to fight for. Don’t let my life make you worry.” Amy turned left on the newly asphalted road to Evie’s house. After Hunter’s team set up permanent residence in Mercy, they’d paved the road and cleared sights for new buildings back off in the woods.

  “Listen to me. I have my family and I’m whining over a possibility. I’m sorry,” Evie started tearing up.

  “Stop apologizing. That’s all everyone does anymore. I’m sorry. I’m sorry your husband is dead. I’m sorry you’re having to be a single mom. Well, you know what, I’m not sorry. I’m thankful. I’m thankful for the time I had with him. I’m thankful for the blessing he gave me.” Amy swiped at the tears trailing from the corners of her eyes and glanced in the rearview mirror at her baby. A blessing Shane would never get the chance to see. To touch. To hold.

  Evie cried harder and grabbed Amy’s free hand. Thelma and Louise. Best friends forever. “I love you. And I’m happy you’ve gotten your second chance.”

  “Me too.” Amy whispered, unable to get the strength in her stomach to push the words out. Her second chance. Ranger. A man that vowed to fight for her. Without apology.

  A man she was close to losing unless she got over her past and Mavis’s threats.

  Amy pulled the truck into the drive, parked and got out, meeting Evie in front for a fierce hug. “Thank you for not giving up.”

  Evie stepped back and wiped her face. “Well, I know how stubborn you are.”

  “And you didn’t give up.”

  “I will never give up on you.”

  “Dammit, we gotta stop this or all my new makeup is going to run,” Amy attempted a laugh, almost hit it.

  “I hate to tell you this honey, but you’re a little closer to raccoon than supermodel right now,” Evie said. “Okay, enough waterworks, we have a mission and I happen to have a dolly to lug that heavy thing in the house.”

  “Great.” Amy went about unlocking Chloe’s car seat, careful not to wake her, and Evie returned with the dolly. A few grunts and curse words later, she’d managed to get Shane’s trunk in the living room, Chloe still asleep and all.

  “Okay, go wash your face. I’ll pour us a couple of glasses of wine.”

  Amy ran down the hall and turned into the first door on the left. Ranger’s room. His stuff. His bed.

  She swallowed the warm shiver running down her tummy. Focus. Wash your face. Deal with your baggage. Then you can bag your new man and show him what a real woman wants.

  Amy went in his bathroom, grabbed a bar of soap and quickly washed all the makeup off her face. Her new shirt would need to be washed before the sweat stains set in, but later. That could be dealt with later. She went back to the living room. Evie had resumed position on the dark leather couch, feet up. Amy grabbed her glass and downed half in one swallow. Forget alcoholic. She needed the courage.

  Amy faced off with Shane’s trunk. Big. Cold. Impenetrable. She lifted the lock and realization struck. No key. Ranger had given her one key. Not two. The lock fell from her fingers and clattered against the trunk with a sonic boom.

  “I don’t have the key.” The wail of despair was real this time.

  “Don’t panic. Wait right here.” Evie jumped up from the couch and ran from the room, returning a few minutes later with a large tool in her hands. “Bolt cutters.”

  “Do I even want to know why you have bolt cutters?” Amy accepted the tool, almost dropping it. The cutters had handles at least two feet long and a beak made of steel.

  “You can thank C.W. and the MRG.” Evie plopped back on the couch.

  “You mean I can thank your near criminal background and your crazy grandpa who got you in that mess?” Evie had been inducted into the Mississippi Revolutionary Group last year, at the insistence of her grandpa. The move had not only made Evie skate the law but nearly get killed in the process.

  “Exactly. Now stop yapping and get to work. I can’t handle all this suspense.”

  Amy placed the bolt cutters and squeezed the handles together. The lock clipped in half with surprising ease and fell to the rug. “This is some serious equipment.”

  “Told ya,” Evie said.

  Amy knelt before the trunk, a wave of dread following her down, feeling like Pandora about to open her box. She swallowed and looked to Evie, who gave her a nod of encouragement. Pandora or not, Amy was doing this. Right here. Right now.

  Chapter 19

  Shane’s trunk lay open before her filled with...video games? Amy reached in and pulled them out. Halo. Modern Warfare. Medal of Honor.

  What the hell?

  Next came a PlayStation. Socks. Army shirts. His pillow.

  His pillow. Amy pulled the soft cushion to her face and inhaled. Shane filled her senses. Memories flooded her mind. His smile. His laugh. Times of happiness. When she could move again, Amy placed the pillow to the side. A stack of metal picture frames lay in the bottom next to a shoe box that looked like an emotional atomic bomb.

  Amy went for the pictures first. Lifting them one at a time, surprised at their size and weight. He must have bought them overseas. The frames were some sort of grey metal, heavy and thick, like nothing she’d ever seen before. The first held a picture of her in her wedding gown. She carefully sat it to the side and inspected the rest. Each frame held a memory. A picture of Amy in their old tire swing. Amy and Shane at the sandbar on the river. One of Amy sleeping...she didn’t even know he’d taken it. Fresh tears formed and dripped onto the glass. He’d taken all of her with him.

  Shaking and sobbing and needing something else, Amy reached for the last photo. Ranger and Shane. Teenagers. A string of catfish and the river. Their smiles genuine and huge, arms around each other.

  Oh God. His best friend. His wife. Together.

  “Amy. Amy. Look at me.” Somehow Evie was beside her, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her. Her voice seemed to come from some far away tunnel.

  “I can’t do that to him.” Amy sobbed and clutched the picture to her chest, her world cracking open again. The pain and betrayal fresh acid
on an open wound.

  “Yes. You. Can. Look at that picture. Look at those men.”

  Amy pulled the frame from her chest and stared down through guilt colored glasses.

  “Who else would Shane trust with your heart? With your life?” Evie forced Amy to focus. “With Chloe’s?”

  Amy’s heart stopped all together, like God himself had reached his hand in her chest and closed his fist around it.

  “Are you listening? Think. Use your brain, not just your heart. Do you think Shane would rather you be with a stranger, or the man he trusted like a brother?” Evie kept talking, her words starting to sink in.

  Amy shifted her focus to her friend, the picture cutting into her palms. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Of course I believe it. It makes sense. He gave his life for Ranger and their team. Ranger nearly gave his life for Shane. And I know he would gladly give his life for you and Chloe.”

  Amy sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to make sense of her words. Of the past. Of the future. Her future.

  Her heart kicked hard against her chest.

  Her and Chloe’s future with Ranger.

  “He would,” Amy said.

  “He’s crazy about you Amy. It’s time you accepted that Shane isn’t coming home. And deep down, you know he wanted you to be happy.”

  Happiness and a chance at a real family. She took a deep breath and nodded, Evie let go of her shoulders and Amy set the photo to the side. “I’m ready. I’m ready to move forward.”

  Evie searched her face, her own eyes full of moisture.

  “I’m serious. Now quit looking at me like that before I start sobbing again.” Amy forced a laugh, broken but real, and faced the last item in the trunk. A shoe box.

  Surely its contents couldn’t be as hard as the pictures.

  She pulled it out and sat it on the floor in front of her. Amy glanced at Chloe, still sleeping, before prying the lid off. Letters.

  The box was full of letters. He’d kept all her letters.

  Amy placed a hand against her chest and pulled the first one free. Her first letter to him. She pulled each one out of the box, smoothing them flat then placing them in a pile. She didn’t want to read them, she remembered every word. But touching them seemed to heal something inside her.

  Three left. Amy pulled one and smoothed it out flat, not looking as she stacked it with the others. The next, same thing. Only one left. Amy unfolded it, almost reverently, and looked at it. Her last letter.

  She paused.

  Not her letter.

  She looked again, taking time to study the script.

  Not her handwriting.

  Her hands started shaking, the paper crinkled and crumpled in her fingers.

  A love letter from another woman.

  Amy, her vision blurry, her world tilting, scanned the letter. The words love, hot night, sex.... punched her in the gut. Bile rose and she ran to the bathroom, puking up the meager breakfast in the toilet. When the food was gone, she dry heaved. Distantly she felt Evie holding her hair back, placing a cold cloth on her neck. “What is it? Amy, talk to me.”

  At some point the dry heaves subsided and Amy sat back on the cold tile floor, the letter still clutched in her hand. “Water.”

  She could only manage one word. Her throat dry and raw, but not nearly as burned as her heart.

  Evie quickly handed over a bottle of water and Amy took a sip. She grabbed the toilet and pulled herself to her feet. In a daze, Amy stumbled from the bathroom and into the living room.

  “Talk to me,” Evie commanded.

  But Amy couldn’t make her throat work, couldn’t make her lips form a sound. She thrust the letter to Evie, who snatched and read it. The look of shock that overtook her friend’s features was a mere shadow of Amy’s own pain.

  Then Evie’s dread morphed into anger.

  “Who the fuck is H.J.?”

  Evie’s emotion breathed a little life into Amy and she snatched the letter, studying the signature, the handwriting, the string of hearts, x’s and o’s. Familiar. She’d seen this before.

  Evie bent over, reached into the box and pulled out a phone.

  “Shane’s sat phone. Oh, my God. Is there a charger? Plug it up. I can see what numbers he called.” Amy made a wild grab, snatching the grey phone from Evie’s hand. Flipping it open in desperation, knowing it was dead.

  “Amy, maybe we should slow down. Talk to Hunter first.”

  “Get me the damn charger.” Amy might regret her tone later, but now she was beyond caring. Evie stood, unbending and blocking Amy’s path. “Come on. I have to know. What if it was Hunter, wouldn’t you have to know?”

  Evie didn’t move for a full minute, but finally sighed and handed over the power cord. Amy rushed to the wall, fumbled with the cord before finally getting the phone plugged up. The minutes it took before the phone charged enough to power on stretched for decades.

  “It’s on.” Amy all but shouted and scrolled the last dialed numbers. Most were foreign. She passed them quickly. But then Mercy’s area code popped up. Not her number.

  Amy hit dial and held the phone up to her ear.

  A phone rang in Evie’s house. Amy’s gaze collided with her friend. “That’s not my ringtone.”

  Amy dropped Shane’s phone to the floor and raced in the direction of the sound. She ran down the hall and slammed open the last door on the right. Hayden James sat on the bed, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears. Her cell clutched in her grip.

  * * *

  Evie was behind her, pulling her back, but Amy couldn’t feel. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t breathe.

  No air. She couldn’t get in any air. The hallway closed in on her. Had to get outside. Open spaces. Amy ran out the back door, barely making it off the porch before she was gagging again. There was nothing to hold on to in the back yard and she fell to her hands and knees, gasping. Hayden. Amy had babysat Hayden. She’d been her friend. Her confidant.

  Hayden was just a little girl.

  Pain twisted and wrenched her insides.

  No. Not a little girl. A woman full grown, sleeping with Amy’s husband.

  Amy doubled over again, unable to move, the knife of betrayal cutting and shredding her insides like a meat grinder.

  “Amy. Honey, what happened? Are you okay?” Deep voice. Not female.

  Amy lifted her head enough to see Ranger standing there, his face a mask of worry. But what could she say, the news would rip him in two. Amy sobbed and hit the ground with her fist. Hard.

  “You’re scaring me, dammit. Is Chloe okay? Did something happen to Evie?” Ranger bent down and lifted her by the arms.

  “Do I need to call in for back up?” Hoyt appeared behind Ranger and she ducked her head against Ranger’s chest, wanting to crawl up in a hole and hide. Her humiliation wasn’t personal, not with an audience.

  “Go check the house.” Ranger ordered.

  Amy heard his footsteps pounding across the yard as he ran to the house. Ranger got her attention again. “Amy, tell me what’s wrong.”

  How? How could she tell him? She shook her head. No. She couldn’t tell him.

  “I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”

  She couldn’t, but he did have a right to know. She had to tell him.

  “Shane. Hayden.” Amy croaked, her voice hoarse, raw from puking.

  “What? That doesn’t make any sense,” Ranger said.

  “Amy, stop.” Evie burst from the house and stumbled to a stop, holding Chloe on her hip. She was panting from running.

  Ranger looked at Evie. “Is Chloe hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s Hoyt?”

  “I’m right here, man. House is clear.” Hoyt eased out the back door and stepped to the side.

  “What the hell has you two looking like you’ve seen a goddamn ghost then?” Ranger’s questions grew louder and in rapid fire succession.

&nbs
p; “I don’t know if I should say.” Evie hesitated, looking at Amy for answers.

  Amy dragged her broken soul out of the gutter and sucked in a breath, trying to find the words. The bitter betrayal burning up her insides too scorching to contain, but she didn’t want to hurt him. To hurt this man who’d done so much to protect her. “I just...I just went through Shane’s trunk. I got upset.”

  Amy shook her head at Evie, giving her the order to keep her mouth shut.

  “Then why did you say my sister’s name?” Ranger stooped down, got eye level. His gaze cutting through her resolve like a hot knife through butter.

  “I... I don’t know. I don’t know what I was saying.”

  “You’re not telling me the truth.”

  “What she isn’t telling you is that I slept with Shane.” Hayden stood on the back porch, clutching a post, her eyes blank. Her face chalk white. Her long honey colored hair hanging in wild waves around her small shoulders making her appear young. Too young to be so damaged.

  “You did what?” Ranger’s skin flushed red and his fingers cut into Amy’s arms.

  “I slept with Shane.” Her breathing hitched. “I was drinking with some friends. He showed up with some guys. I don’t know how it happened.”

  “I’ll tell you how it happened, you spread your legs for a married man. My best-fucking-friend.” Ranger’s hoarse voice rose with each word, whipping through the air with a crack.

  Hayden jerked back, as though physically struck. The tears swimming in her eyes fell in straight lines down her cheeks. Her chin trembled. “I didn’t mean to. I’d never. . .I was drunk. I would never hurt you like that. I swear.”

  Amy’s heart reached out to the broken girl. She wanted to comfort her, despite her anger.

  “You didn’t mean to? How exactly do you not mean to have sex with someone?” Ranger’s voice boomed across the yard.

  Hayden shook her head wildly, sobbing. Ranger made to advance, but Amy pulled him back. Her instincts firing on full-blast. If he got to Hayden, in his current state of mind, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.