The cut on her finger wasn’t anything compared to the pain in her chest.
Amy grabbed a paper towel and wrapped her finger, squeezing it tight to stem the blood flow. She glanced at the clock on the oven, six o'clock. The local news would be on. She found the remote and clicked on the TV.
A reporter stood off to the left, federal officials escorting women and children and men through an open door behind her. The scene looked like controlled chaos.
The reporter said, “The Mexican gang known as the Lobellos was taken down last night due to the coordinated efforts of multiple government agencies. Behind me you see ICE officials escorting the hostages out of their prison where they have been held for over two weeks. Initial reports say there are fifteen dead, five wounded. We just arrived on the scene, but will keep you updated as more information becomes available.” The remote control clattered to the floor. Amy forgot about her finger. Forgot about the blood. Forgot about everything.
That nagging sensation of worry that had been growing like a fungus in the pit of her stomach consumed her. It hadn't been worry, it had been instinct. Instinct telling her something bad had happened to Ranger.
Her knees gave out and she sank onto the barstool at the island. Don't be stupid. Don't jump to conclusions. The reporter hadn't said who had been killed or injured. It could've been anyone. It could've been the bad guys. Wasn't good supposed to triumph over evil?
Her cell phone rang and she snatched it to her ear, adrenaline giving her superhuman speed. “Hello?”
She held her breath silently praying and begging she would hear Rangers deep rich voice on the other end of the line.
“Amy? Are you home?” Evie said.
Amy expelled a breath and fought the disappointment. “Yes, why?”
“Hunter is on his way over.”
Why would Hunter come to her house? Her subconscious whispered why do you think?
Her mouth was dry as a desert. “Did he say why? What about Ranger?”
“He didn't say, he sounded like he was in a hurry. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
Hunter was headed to her house. He was rushing. Something Hunter never did. He needed to talk to her. And he hadn't said anything about Ranger.
She walked into the living room, with Evie on the phone, and pulled her linen curtains to the side. Two vehicles were pulling down her driveway. Hunter James’ truck and the sheriff's cruiser.
Her fingers went numb and she dropped the phone, vaguely aware of Evie still talking, she stumbled a few steps back, tripped and landed on the couch.
Please God, please, please let Ranger be okay.
And some other part of her mind scrambled furiously for another excuse, any other reason that Ranger’s brother and the sheriff would be coming to her house after a mission, without her man.
Her experience slapped her hard. Knocked her down and left her gasping for breath. There was no other reason.
One of them knocked on her front door but she couldn’t make her feet move. She couldn’t coordinate her legs to straighten and simply walk across the floor and turn a doorknob. She couldn’t even breathe.
A vise tightened around her chest, each knock cinching it tighter, inch by inch, until her ribs threatened to crack and her heart to shatter.
“I'll get it.” Arturo rushed into the living room, all knobby knees and elbows.
Amy’s throat worked convulsively, trying to scream at him no, but her lips refused to move and no sound escaped. Arturo turned the handle and the door swung open and there stood Hunter James. Black pants. Black shirt. Black bottomless eyes filled with some awful expression she didn't even have a name for.
The vise cinched another notch tighter.
Arturo looked between Amy and Hunter, and then he ran to Amy and sat on the couch beside her, taking her hand. Hunter’s gaze flickered for the briefest instant to the boy at her side and she found herself praying – praying he was here because of Pedro not Ranger.
Shame filled her. How could she wish for Pedro’s death when it would leave Arturo an orphan?
And then Bo was there, standing beside Hunter, his tan sheriff’s uniform a death knell.
The vise cinched the last notch around her chest and her heart collapsed under the pressure. She felt herself falling into a deep dark bottomless hole of grief. Because Bo’s expression wasn't as guarded as Hunter’s, and she could clearly see the emotion in his grey eyes.
Regret.
The only sound she heard was the buzzing in her ears, her hands were cold and numb. She was distantly aware of Arturo squeezing her arm.
How could fate be so cruel to give and take from her twice? She’d fought so hard to deny Ranger, her instinct to guard her heart, to protect herself, had been right all along.
Her subconscious had known she would shatter. She'd survived Shane's death – barely. But now she was expected to survive Ranger?
“Amy, maybe we could talk alone?” Hunter’s voice scraped across her raw and bleeding heart, jerking her back into the here and now. And then she felt Arturo’s little fingers digging painfully into her skin. She swallowed back the bile and the tears and the horror and pried his little fingers from her arm.
Think of the children, don't think of yourself. “Hey Artie, why don't you go watch cartoons for a little while in the playroom?”
Artie looked at her, his gaze filled with worry and indecision but he nodded as if sensing how close Amy was to breaking. After he left the room, she turned to Hunter and forced herself to stand and lock her knees tight. Her voice was harsh when she spoke, “Just tell me.”
Amy sucked in a deep breath and held it, waiting on the words that would destroy her forever.
Amy’s heart slammed against her chest, fracturing her sternum with the force. She clutched at her neck, her throat bobbing furiously in an attempt to swallow her tears. “Ranger?”
Hunter’s unreadable expression cracked and a small smile played at his lips. Then he stepped to the side, allowing Amy to see through the open door.
Ranger limped up her front porch steps on crutches, his left eye black. “Thanks for the help, bro.”
Amy's eyes widened. Her mind must be playing tricks on her in some foolish attempt to hold onto her sanity.
And then Ranger was elbowing his way into her house. She’d never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life. Amy launched herself at Ranger with a cry. “I thought you were dead. I thought they were telling me you were dead.”
She sobbed, uncontrolled and a little unhinged, but she didn't care. Ranger had come home. Her prayers had been answered.
One of his arms wrapped around her and she clutched him tighter, needing to anchor him to her.
“Shhh, honey, I’m okay. Hunter had to drive me over here. Doc said no driving for a full week.” His slow southern drawl soothed across her soul and filled her with warmth.
Her sobs eased a little, but didn’t stop. Two days of torture needed their release. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop crying.”
“I promised you, didn’t I? I promised you I’d come back to you, I'd fight for you.”
Chapter 24
Ranger had never felt anything as right as Amy in his arms. She had a death grip on him, but dammit, he liked it. He liked it so much he completely ignored the throbbing pain in his thigh from taking on her extra weight. If he could hold her like this forever, they could cut his damn leg off for all he cared.
Ranger locked onto Amy’s deep brown eyes, and the worry reflected in her gaze sent a wave of euphoria rushing through him like he’d hit the lottery. When he lowered his head to hers, unable to resist brushing a kiss across her trembling lips, he knew he had won.
Those tears in her eyes were for him. Those blubbering sobs were for him. Her arms were around him. If he’d been a caveman, he would pound on his chest and yell out, Mine. But Ranger subdued that primal instinct and instead squeezed her against him tighter.
When Santos had held that gun to his head on the mission
he’d thought he would be coming back to Amy in a casket. If it hadn’t been for his brother’s quick thinking and even better aim with his gun, Ranger would be dead. And Amy would be alone. Again.
Because of that, though, Hunter had to take out Santos, thereby killing their chance at finding solid intel. TF-S had taken as many of the Lobellos alive as possible, but Santos had been the key.
Ranger heard another vehicle coming down the drive at high speed. The pipes and skidding stop proclaimed the driver without him having to look. Only one female in Mercy drove like she belonged in NASCAR.
“Slow down before you bust your ass.” Cheri, owner of the vehicle in question, said.
“Amy!”
Ranger sighed and didn't bother turning around. He knew Evie's voice like he knew his sidearm.
“Hunter James, you tell me what is going on right now. Where is Amy?” Evie was right behind him now and Ranger knew he should step to the side, but Amy felt too damn good. And every time he looked down at her he got lost. Someone could walk up and fire off a missile right now and he’d die happy.
“Ranger if you don't let my wife see that her friend is okay I'm going to kick your ass. And we both know that I can do it.” Hunter stood a few feet away, his arms crossed, glaring at Ranger.
“The last time you kicked my ass, I was ten years old and you’d just hit a growth spurt,” Ranger said.
Hunter relaxed and leaned against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. “You know, I don't think I'll be the one kicking your ass. I believe I'll let my wife do the job.”
“Let me see her before she has a panic attack,” Amy's voice trembled but a smile played at her lips.
“They're going to have to pry me off you with a crowbar, honey. I haven't seen you in two days.”
“How about a tire iron?” Evie did not sound happy at all.
Ranger knew he should move, but for some reason his arm wouldn’t unbend from around her.
Then Amy cupped his cheek with her incredibly soft palm and he knew he’d found his heaven. “How about we resume this conversation later tonight?”
Her whispered words struck a match inside him, setting off a forest fire of desire. Unable to make his brain coordinate his lips to respond, he simply nodded, stepped to the side and adjusted his pants to hide the instant hard on her words had caused.
He barely cleared the way when Evie flew past, swooping in like a hawk on her prey, pulling Amy into a fierce hug. Cheri, the final tip of the triangle of friends, stood behind the two, studying her deep red nails as if she didn't have a care in the world.
“Don't you ever, ever, ever, scare me like that again. I was worried sick about you.” Evie held Amy at arm’s length, giving her a once over.
“And when she says sick, she means literally. We would've been here five minutes ago if I didn't have to stop and clean out the front seat of my Charger.” Cheri’s drawl drew everyone's attention.
“You threw up again?” Amy said.
“What do you mean, again?” Hunter stepped in crowding his wife.
Evie reached over and patted Hunter’s arm as if trying to soothe a wild beast. “Nothing to worry about. Just a little stomach bug. I feel better already.” Evie turned and glared at Cheri. “And if you didn't drive like a blind woman on crack, I wouldn't have gotten carsick in the first place.”
Cheri lifted a dark brow. “Please. Why don't you just admit you're pregnant?”
Forget a missile, Cheri dropped a bomb. The room went post-apocalypse silent.
“Pregnant?” Hunter turned the most amazing color of red. More like crimson.
As deep red as Hunter had turned, Evie turned just as white. “I'm not pregnant. I have a stomach bug.”
Glad to have the attention off himself, Ranger yanked Amy back to his chest.
Cheri snorted and propped a hand on her hip. “Yeah. Tell that to the baby growing in your belly.”
“You're pregnant?” Amy echoed.
“I am not pregnant! I would freaking know if I was pregnant for Christ sake. I can't have a baby.” Her words trailed off, ending thin and broken like one-ply toilet paper.
“So you started abstaining, have you?” Cherri said.
Hunter’s gaze ping ponged from Cherri, to his wife and back again.
“No, but, but.”
Cheri cut in. “So you started using protection?”
“Oh. My. God.” Evie's hand fell to her belly.
“You forget that I'm the youngest of four girls. I know the second a woman gets pregnant. And honey, you're most definitely pregnant.”
“I'm going to be a father?” Hunter said.
“Yep. I mean, I'd stop at the drugstore and get a pregnancy test and everything, but my preggo radar is pretty damn good,” Cherri said.
Ranger leaned on a crutch and extended a hand to his brother, “Congratulations.”
Hunter took his hand, his eyes glassy, his face slack. Ranger almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Evie looked like she was going to hyperventilate. Or puke. And Ranger sincerely hoped it was the previous. The only thing he could handle less than crying was puking.
“But I don't know what to do with a kid,” Evie said.
“That's not true. Look how much you've helped me with Chloe. You're going to be a wonderful mother,” Amy said.
Bo Lawson butted in, “And hopefully it'll be a girl just as pretty as you.”
The vein in Hunter’s temple popped and throbbed. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
“Think about it. Hunter James with a teenage girl. Oh the poetic justice is just too perfect.” Bo kept going, either completely unafraid or insane. Either way, the outcome would be the same.
“Don't listen to him, he's just trying to get a rise out of you.” Evie pulled her husband close. “Besides, we both know with your genes we're going to have a boy.”
Ranger met Hunter’s gaze over the top of Evie’s blonde head. He knew what Hunter was thinking without him having to say a word. It would be the same thought that Ranger would have. He couldn't have a boy. Too much risk of him turning out to be like their biological father. A man who would rather murder his own wife than let her leave. A man that tried to beat his children to death.
Not many children had the luxury of escaping such a monster. But Ranger and Hunter had. And they’d been lucky enough to find Hank James, a man unafraid to adopt two homeless boys off the street and raise them as his own. But no matter how well raised, they would never forget their past. The risk of repeating their father’s mistake was too real.
Ranger sent up a silent prayer right then and there that it would be a girl.
“Let's go.” Hunter grabbed Evie's hand and started dragging her from the room.
“Go where?”
“To the drugstore. We're getting a pregnancy test. No. We're getting ten pregnancy tests.”
“I'm pretty sure one does the trick.” Cheri deftly stepped to the side as Hunter plowed out the front door.
Hunter growled and Cheri threw her hands up in the air. “Okay buddy, buy ‘em all. See if I'm wrong.”
Evie managed a quick glance back, even as Hunter pulled her faster. “Sorry about your car, but thanks for the ride over.”
“You got it, babe.”
“Call me and let me know what the test says,” Amy called out.
Hunter didn’t give his wife time to respond. He opened the door to his truck, and put her inside, buckling her like a child and then climbing into the driver side and spun out in a hurry.
“There ain’t no way I’m wrong. She’s been downright moody. Hell, when you dropped her call earlier she started crying. When’s the last time you knew that girl to cry? And the puking. You don’t have to call me Dr. Oz, but I know pregnant,” Cheri said.
“Seems like you were the only one.” Ranger took a deep breath and inhaled Amy’s shampoo. Her hair hung loose between them, the soft strands like silk as he rubbed his cheek against the top of her head.
“I almost feel sorry for your brother. But then again, I think this child will be a good thing for them,” Cheri said.
“Why?” Ranger knew he shouldn’t keep the conversation going, especially if he wanted to get some alone time with Amy, but he couldn’t help but ask.
“Cause, no matter how much they love each other and how lucky they are to have found that kind of love, there is still a darkness in Hunter. Something I sense lurking inside. Something that needs more than a good woman to drive it out.”
“Don’t you think that could be a side effect of his job?” Bo arched a blond brow.
“No. I think there’s more to it than that, not that I expect someone like you to understand,” Cheri said.
“Someone like me? What the hell does that mean?” Bo spread out his arms, his eyes wide and waiting.
“A stick-in-the-mud. You know. Charlie Brown. You see only what you want to see. I can’t help it if you’re unenlightened.”
“Woman, I’ve seen more in my life than you could ever dream. Just because I don’t believe in psychobabble doesn’t mean I’m a freaking stick.”
“No, it just means you’re boring.” Cheri poked her nail in the sheriff’s chest, all but daring him to a challenge.
“Do something,” Amy whispered to Ranger.
“Sorry, honey, but this is just getting good.” Ranger had been waiting way too long for someone to put Sheriff Lawson in his place. Now it appeared a redhead was about to unleash on his ass.
“Who the hell do you think you are? You know nothing about me. Absolutely nothing.” Bo puffed out his chest, stretching the tan uniform taut.
“I know you’re too scared to take chances.” Cheri leaned in, unrelenting. Her head barely reached Bo’s chest, but she didn’t back down. Not one inch.
“Do you know what I do for a living? I take a chance with my life every day I go out on patrol.” The ever calm and cool Bo Lawson had disappeared, in his place was a man on a ledge, jaw clenched. Hands clenched. The tension between the two was practically sparking.
Men of Mercy: The Complete Story Page 41