Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  Sparrow joined him on the front porch and ducked her head, her bravado gone now that she was with this man who had become her surrogate father. Squirrel knew everything about her. If she told him she needed help killing a man and hiding the body, he wouldn't flinch. But telling him she needed help seducing a man? That was an entirely different story.

  “I came here because I need your help. But you can't tell nobody.” She chanced a quick peek up. Squirrel stood with one arm braced on a beam of the twisted wood porch, staring out into the woods. His loose long sleeve shirt fell back, revealing a bony arm covered with scars. What she wouldn't do to be able to give him a better life. He was the only father she’d ever known. And if she managed to make it to the top and start earning that cash steady, she'd make sure he never had to work another day in his life. Never had to go out hunting and trapping from dusk to dawn.

  “You done finally killed Jimbo?” Squirrel looked at her again, but the only emotion on his face was curiosity.

  “If only.”

  “You ain't gone and stole from Miss Kay now have you?”

  “Nope.” I’ve got something even better. Her stomach fluttered like a thousand moths around a lantern at midnight.

  “Lookee here, I ain’t got all day. I got to be checking my traps soon, so you’d best go on and spit it out so I can fix whatever problem you done created.”

  “I got me a man tied up to my bed.” The words rushed from her lips, and she slapped a hand over her mouth, wishing she could push them back inside.

  Squirrel’s bushy brows shot straight up into his hairline and he gave a good long whistle. “Well, you shouldn't have a problem with that. You're pretty enough.”

  Sparrow resisted the urge to stomp her foot and instead took a deep breath and let the whole story spill out. She finished by telling him she had two days to get the information—or else. “So I figured I could use his body against him.”

  “Or I could let you use my Bowie knife. Peeling some skin will usually get a fella to talk right quick.”

  The thought sent bile rushing to her mouth. She couldn’t stand the thought of hurting someone like that. She could handle threatening, some mild violence, but she’d never drawn blood. “I'm telling you, he ain't a normal man. Physical threats don't scare him.”

  Squirrel took a step back, and a board creaked and then broke beneath his feet. Sparrow barely managed to snag his shirt to keep him from toppling into the yard. This old shack was scarcely held up by patched tin and rusted nails.

  “I got it now, you can let go.” Squirrel brushed off her hands and carefully eased around the newest hole in the porch. “Guess I gotta get some more wood.”

  “I got some under the trailer. I’ll bring it by for you later.” He shouldn’t have to live in this dump. She wanted something better for them both, and now she might have the means to get it. “Back to my idea.”

  Squirrel studied her from head to toe. ““Well, you ain't got them curves most men like, but ya got perty eyes and hair.”

  Sparrow crossed her arms over her chest. “What? Do I need to be fat like old Bertha to get a man's attention?”

  Squirrel took a step back and threw his hands up. “No, girl. You women sure know how to twist a man’s words.” He sighed. “All right, I'll help you get fixed up, but the rest is up to you.”

  Sparrow nodded, not trusting her voice. “Listen, I need your help to hold him down while I get him tied up tight.”

  “Hold on, let me get something.” Squirrel ran back into the shack. When he re-emerged, his Bowie knife was strapped to his leg and there was a pistol at his hip. “Lead the way.”

  They made it back to Sparrow’s trailer in record time, easing around the perimeter of Crowe camp to avoid being seen. She led the way into her bedroom. As soon as she walked over the threshold the man’s gaze shot to hers, those midnight eyes darkened with fury. A predator’s grin stretched his full lips tight. “Couldn't handle me on your own, little girl?”

  “He sure is a big’un,” Squirrel said.

  “That's why I needed your help.” Sparrow completely ignored his remarks. Remember, it’s him or you.

  “Looks like you did a good job on the knot. You got some more rope ready?”

  “All the rope in the world isn’t it going to keep me tied to this bed, old man.” His fake smile disappeared altogether and he lunged hard against the rope. The bed frame groaned under his animalistic power, but it held. Barely.

  “Yeah, it's on the floor.” She had to fight the instinct to turn tail and run from the room. He didn’t look mad—he looked furious. But all she had to do was keep it together. He’d wanted her. His body couldn’t deny it. She just had to figure out a way to rekindle that flame before he figured out a way to break free and strangle her.

  Chapter 6

  Jared watched in growing shock as one of the ugliest, scrawniest old men he'd ever seen pulled out a giant pistol and a knife so long it stretched from his hipbone almost to his knee. Problem was, as comical as the old man looked holding those big old weapons, he held them with an easy familiarity. The same kind of ease with which Jared held his sniper rifle.

  Squirrel cocked the pistol and took aim at Jared's head before approaching the bed. “Now, I want you to hold real still for my girl.”

  He placed the knife right between Jared’s legs and a cold sweat broke across Jared’s lip. If either of them so much as flinched, he’d lose his balls to that razor-sharp weapon.

  “That's right, boy. You move and them family jewels will be the next thing hanging on my wall.”

  “You can threaten to cut off anything you want, but you and I both know I'm not gonna lie here and let her tie my feet to the bed.” Jared forced his heart rate to slow and focused on his enemy’s weakness. Weak wrist, probably brittle bones all over. If Jared managed to aim a kick just right, he could take out the old man out. Then he’d only have to contend with Sparrow.

  Not only had she left him with a raging hard-on, but she was obviously tied as tight as twine with Kay. Shit. He’d considered telling her the truth and possibly enlisting her help, but now that wasn’t going to happen.

  Sparrow fidgeted with the extra rope, staying a good two feet out of Jared’s reach. Smart girl. He was ready to take them both out any chance he got. “You get close to me and you know what will happen.”

  She paled. “Squirrel?”

  Squirrel removed the knife and sheathed it, watching Jared close all the while. “I reckon you're right, young fella. I ain't seen your kind around here in a long time. I don’t know who you are.” Squirrel leaned in until his face was only a few inches from Jared’s. “But I recognize you for what you are.”

  “Squirrel!”

  * * *

  Squirrel tossed the gun in the air, caught the nozzle, and slammed the butt of the pistol into the man’s temple before he could so much as flinch. Sparrow gasped and dropped the rope as his head lolled to the side, unconscious. Squirrel whistled, flipped the gun in the air once more, caught it by the butt, and tucked it into the back of his pants. Easy as pie.

  “What did you do?” Sparrow squealed. She’d never made that sound before in her life, but she hadn’t expected him to practically kill her hostage. How the hell was she supposed to seduce the man now?

  Squirrel slapped his hands over his ears. “Quiet down, girl, no need to yell. That fella woulda cut himself clean through to keep you from tying him down. I could see it in his eyes. You better hurry and get them feet tied up quick like, and make sure you pull them knots extra tight. You can only hold back a bear for so long.”

  “How am I supposed to seduce him if he's unconscious?” Sparrow cried.

  “He ain't going to be unconscious for long. Pass me some of that rope, I want to make sure you do it right.”

  Sparrow stared at him dumbfounded. She’d pictured this going a lot more smoothly. Squirrel gave an exasperated sigh and picked the rope up off the floor. He gave her a once over, and Sparrow resisted the urge to
cross her arms over her chest.

  “I ain't had me a woman in a while, and I might be an old fool, but you ain't going to get nowhere dressed in them man's clothes. You need something girly.”

  She yanked the rope out of his hands and tied it to the first bed post, her movements jerky. “And just where am I supposed to get something like that?”

  Squirrel took over, his old gnarled fingers tying the rope with a speed born of decades of experience. “I reckon I'll have to go steal you some clothes.”

  Squirrel finished the knot securing the man’s second leg and placed his hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, yanking back out of his grip.

  “What do you think? I got to figure out what size you need.” Still holding his hands the same width apart as her hips, Squirrel lifted them up to eye level. “I just got to go find you something about this size.”

  “Jesus Christ, what are you going to do? Walk up to every girl you see and ask if you can squeeze her hips?”

  Squirrel chuckled, “Not a bad idea, but no, we got to keep this secret.”

  “You can't just walk up to somebody and ask them for clothes, you know. They'll guess something’s up.”

  Squirrel scratched his beard, his small frame putting him at eye level with Sparrow. “Hadn't thought of that. Well what about Geraldine? She's scrawny like you. I could steal something from her clothesline outback.”

  Sparrow flinched back in horror. Geraldine was the nastiest prostitute on Crowe Mountain. That girl would spread her legs for anybody and anything. “I ain't going to wear nothing that whore has worn.”

  “Well, there ain't no other whore here that's as little as you. You want me to go get you something just as baggy as what you're wearing right now? Aren't you trying to seduce him?”

  Sparrow backed up until she hit the wall. She’d always thought her trailer was large and luxurious, but the room seemed to be growing smaller and smaller. Her heart thundered in her ears as her mind raced to search for any other solution. Anything.

  She came up with nothing.

  “If you're having second thoughts, I can leave you my knife. You already know how to use it.” Squirrel pinned her to the wall with his steady gaze.

  Sparrow shook her head, the horrific thought of slicing into that man's flesh making her stomach turn “No. I'll do it.”

  Squirrel nodded. “Stay put, I'll be back in a couple of minutes.” He cast his gaze at the man, still unconscious on the bed. “You might want to take his clothes off if you’re planning on using your women's wiles. It'll be easier if you do it while he's out cold.”

  After he left, Sparrow turned to survey her captive. Dear Lord, his broad chest took up nearly the entire width of her bed. Curiosity urged her feet forward. She slid a finger beneath the hem of his shirt, lifting the cotton inch by glorious inch. So this was what washboard abs meant. There was not one single spare ounce of fat on him. She could trace the outline of each little square, counting a full eight pack. Ten if she was generous. And Christ if those muscles didn’t dive into a V and disappear into his black pants.

  She recognized the now familiar ache growing hot in her body. Sparrow moved as if under some spell, pushing his shirt higher and higher, then lifting it over his head and leaving it to dangle at his wrists. The stark line of camouflage face paint stopped just below his collar bone and smooth tan skin took over the rest of the way down. Reminded of her previous mission to see his face, she dove for the wash cloth. Careful not to touch the swelling bump on his temple, she washed the paint away. Then she removed his black beanie and took a step back to get a good look at him.

  Her mouth felt liable to fall straight to the floor. Black as midnight hair neither too short, nor too long, full and thick and begging her fingers to sift through it. A shadow of a beard darkened his jaw line. But his lips were even more sinful. Full and sensual, drawing her in for a kiss.

  He moaned and her heart shot into her throat. He shifted once and then settled. Finish the job. He’s just a man. Just a man.

  She repeated the mantra over and over in her mind, but that didn't stop her hands from trembling as she reached forward to unsnap the button of his pants free.

  Just a man. Just the most mouth-watering, sexy man imaginable.

  She had to straddle him to slide his pants down, but the way Squirrel had tied each leg to a separate bed post, she was only able to pull them partway down his thighs. Massive thighs. Thighs as big around as her entire waist.

  But his thighs weren’t what garnered her attention. The thick shaft lying on his belly was what had her biting her lip. Even limp, he was huge.

  The front door squeaked open and banged shut. Sparrow hastily re-zipped his pants, knowing instinctively that the proud man would hate her if he awoke completely nude and restrained.

  Squirrel stumbled into the room. “I hit the jackpot, girly. You sure you’re up for this?”

  She stiffened and jumped from the bed. It always got her back up when someone questioned her abilities. She could do this. She would do it, even if her insides quaked at the sight of him. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, Sparrow said, “Just give me the damn clothes. I want to inspect them for ticks.”

  “I always wanted something better for you than this place. Ain’t right, a girl like you being stuck out here.” Squirrel extended an alarmingly small bundle and Sparrow snatched it from him. She didn't have a choice. The information he might have was the only thing that could save her and Squirrel, and she wouldn’t hurt him for it.

  “Yeah, well I want something better for you too, and if I take care of this problem, I might just get the break we need.” And hopefully not lose herself in the god tied to her bed.

  Squirrel approached the bed and leaned in for a closer look. “Something about that face is familiar.” Squinting down at the man, he scratched the corner of his mouth. “I know I've seen it before.”

  Sparrow rolled her eyes. “You didn't hear him talking enough. He ain't from these parts. The accent ain’t right.”

  “I'm going to think on it for a spell. Get me a sweet dram to help clear my thoughts.” Sparrow almost snorted, but she held quiet. Squirrel clearly believed what he was saying, and when had he ever lied to her?

  “You really think you’ve seen him before?”

  The way the man’s expression had altered from sweet and sexy to psycho-killer the moment he saw Miss Kay had been unmistakable. Yes, he definitely knew the Crowe matriarch, but maybe she wasn’t the only person up here he knew. “He changed when he saw Miss Kay. I could tell he wanted to kill her.”

  Squirrel scratched his grizzly beard, the deep grooves on his forehead wrinkling in thought. “I knew it. That boy’s been here before, sure enough, I just have to figure out when. And why.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. “This here's my own special brew. If he don't cooperate, or you get scared, sprinkle a little bit of this into some whiskey and give him a drink.”

  Sparrow took the small vial and held it up for inspection. The glass tube was about the length and diameter of her pinky finger. “What is it? Will it hurt him?”

  “Might make him a tad groggy, but it’ll loosen them lips up enough that he'll sing louder than a damn whippoorwill. It's my own truth serum.” Squirrel waggled his bushy brows, obviously proud of his invention. “And he won't remember a thing afterwards.”

  Drugging him seemed underhanded, dirty, and perfect. If she couldn't get him to give her answers straight on, she wouldn't hesitate to use the serum. “My thanks.”

  Squirrel’s expression turned serious once more. “I know you ain't never been with no man.”

  Sparrow tried to interrupt him, embarrassed, but he held up a calloused hand. “And I know you're also the most stubborn creature on this entire mountain. Just be careful. A man like this is experienced. Don't let him get into your head, and I sure as hell wouldn't tell him you're a virgin.”

  Heat didn't just rush to her face, it exp
loded across her skin in an instant. Even her chest felt scalded with embarrassment. “How the hell do you know that I'm a virgin? You don't know everything about me.”

  “And just what boy around here did you let touch you?”

  The names and faces of every male she could think of flooded her mind, but she wouldn’t have let one of them within ten feet of her person. “None of your damn business.”

  “Just like I thought. I'm serious, girl, a man like him will take advantage of your innocence. Don't you let on that you ain't never been with a man. You seen how them whores act around camp. Just do what they do and you should be fine.”

  Sparrow stood there in shock, unable to form a coherent thought. Squirrel, old enough to be her grandpa—her only real father figure—was urging her to act like a prostitute after a hundred-dollar bill.

  He pressed his Bowie knife into her hands. “I don't care what happens. If you fear for your life, you slit his throat. I can hide the body where nobody will find it. Got it?”

  Sparrow couldn’t speak, so she just stood there nodding and clutching the whore’s clothes and the knife to her chest.

  “Good, now get yourself changed, cause your fella ain’t gonna stay out much longer. You better be ready for a bear when he wakes up.”

  Chapter 7

  Jared came to consciousness in an instant, and was greeted by a pounding head. Rage ripped through him as he remembered how the old man had knocked him out. But they were talking over him—Sparrow and the grizzled guy—so Jared kept quiet and listened to their conversation. If he’d learned one thing in his years in Special Ops, it was that knowledge was power.

  So Kay was still here, running the show. Running Sparrow, too, it seemed. He barely registered the dim glow of the lamp on the bedside table through his slitted eyes. He was too focused on the conversation going on around him.

  They were sending in a virgin to tame him. It was like sending a sheep to tame a wolf. He’d been with plenty of women, and seducing them had never been a problem. Women seemed to gravitate toward him, drawn to his darkness.