Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  “Yes, what?” He snapped, grabbing her arms in a tight grip.

  “Yes, Mr. J.”

  “You can’t let that slip, not once. If they find out you’re not Caroline, they’ll torture you until you break. I’ve told you how much Cotter likes to torture his victims, haven’t I?”

  Nightshade swallowed down the hard knot forming in her throat. “Do you think he hurt my sister like that?”

  Silence. That was his answer.

  She knew her father wouldn’t lie to her, just like she knew how much getting Caroline back meant to him. If it was too painful for him to talk about… “I’m going to burn that bastard alive.”

  Mankel eased his grip and patted her on the shoulder in a rare show of affection. “Stick to the plan. Don’t deviate. You can’t allow your emotions to cloud your judgment.”

  “Have I ever?”

  “I remember a time.”

  The memory slammed into her in a flash. She’d been twelve and training on the underground range with her team. When she’d missed her target by nearly two inches, her father had ordered Storm, the youngest on their team, to hold the target. If Nightshade missed her next shot, she could easily kill Storm. She’d balked. Her teammates were like her sisters.

  Angered by her refusal, Mankel made Storm switch places with her, knowing she wasn’t nearly as good a shot. Nightshade had taken a bullet to the shoulder.

  “I will follow your orders.”

  He hooked a finger over his lips, studying her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. “Yes, I believe you will. I know I don’t say it often, but -”

  He paused and Nightshade held her breath. Would he finally say it? Would he tell her he loved her?

  “I’m proud of you. I trust you to carry out this mission.”

  She sucked in the disappointment and lifted her chin. “I won’t let you down.”

  Her father disappeared down the hall and she rushed from the security room in the opposite direction. She stopped in front of the locked doors to her sister’s bedroom. She wanted more than anything to cast off the burka and stride in there fully free to sit by Caroline’s side. But Nightshade wasn’t free. And neither was her team.

  She quickly picked the lock and silently opened the door. The smell of fresh jasmine filled her nostrils as she strode into the room. Tall white columns created a path through the entry way before spreading out into a huge oval shaped room, topped with a golden dome and surrounded by large open archways out onto the balcony. Caroline sat with her back to Nightshade, staring out at the thousands of stars dusted across the clear night sky.

  Stopping behind her sister, Nightshade sucked in a deep, silent breath. For the first time in her life, she was afraid to move forward. She’d taken down rebel army leaders and genocide-enacting fanatics without flinching, but finally facing her sister turned her into a mass of turbulence.

  She clenched her hands into fists and then released them, willing some of the tension to leave her body. This might be the only time she could ever speak to Caroline. She wouldn’t chicken out now.

  She strode around the couch, registering how Caroline stiffened when she realized she wasn’t alone. Nightshade grabbed the heavy velvet curtains and pulled them shut, forming a barrier between them and any possibility of eavesdropping. Then she gathered her willpower and turned to face her twin.

  Anxious dread crept across Nightshade’s chest. This was the moment she’d dreamed about since the day her father had revealed the truth. She had a twin sister, kidnapped at birth by a powerful and deadly US senator bent on revenge.

  Her whole life she’d lived thinking she was alone. Not anymore.

  She gripped the front of her burka and slowly eased the material up and over her head, tossing it to the floor at her feet. She’d deliberately dressed in the same clothes as Caroline, a loose black linen tunic and pants, in preparation for her mission to pose as her twin and allow Task Force Scorpion to rescue her and send her back to Cotter.

  Caroline gasped and shot to her feet, wavering. Her sister’s continued weakness for the past few weeks had been a constant source of worry for Nightshade, who’d never had trouble healing from injury. Even after all the treatments and medicine, Caroline’s cheeks remained hollow, her skin pale.

  Fighting back the nearly overwhelming urge to go to her, Nightshade held perfectly still to allow Caroline time to study her. After what seemed like hours, Caroline took a tentative step in her direction, her frail hand inching through the air between them. Nightshade braced, registering that she herself trembled in anticipation.

  “Who are you?” Caroline whispered.

  Unable to stand the rising tide of emotions, Nightshade met her sister halfway, grabbing her hand. “I’m your sister.”

  Caroline's wide blue eyes stretched further. “What?”

  The words tumbled out of Nightshade in an uncontrollable rush. “I'm your twin sister. I've been looking for you my whole life. I can't believe we’re finally together. I'm touching you, talking to you in person.”

  “How - what - ?” Caroline stuttered.

  “You were taken at birth and hidden from us. It was only recently that we discovered he’d hid you.” Nightshade clutched her twin’s hand, desperately seeking her understanding. “I can’t tell you how happy father and I are to finally have you back.”

  Caroline blinked and slowly withdrew her hand. “Father?”

  Nightshade fought the yawning emptiness left in the lingering absence of her sister’s touch. She wanted to grab Caroline and yank her to her, pull her into a tight hug and never let go. Instead she forced her hands to her sides, not wanting to shock Caroline with any sudden outbursts of emotion. She was having a hard enough time herself dealing with these emotions. After a life built around schedules and training and covert operations, the most emotion she'd had to deal with in the past decade was the rush of adrenaline right before taking out a target.

  Or the heavy burden of hate for the man who’d taken her sister and captured her team.

  “Maybe you should sit down.” Nightshade gestured to the couch.

  “I prefer to stand, actually.” Caroline swayed on her feet and then locked her knees.

  Nightshade drew in a breath, proud of her sister’s strength. “Your father isn’t Tom Cotter.”

  She braced for her sister’s meltdown. Instead, fire flashed in her sister’s gaze. “What are you talking about?”

  “Cotter isn’t your real father. Your father lives here with me. He's raised me and told me stories about when we were born. About our mother and how beautiful she was. And about the man who took you away from us.”

  “Are you crazy? My father is Senator Tom Cotter. My mother died in childbirth with me. End of story.” Caroline shook her head and took a small step back, angling her body toward the door.

  Nightshade started to follow her and stopped. She’d known this wouldn't be smooth and easy. “I'm telling you the truth. Cotter took you from us when we were born. He hates father and wanted to do anything to hurt him. Mother never recovered from losing you and died a week after leaving hospital.” Leaving Nightshade to grow up without a mother and only her father and her teammates for family.

  Tears sprang to Caroline's eyes and she shook her head wildly. “You're not real, this isn't real. You're crazy. I know who my father is. My father loves me and you took me from him. What have you done with Celine? Let me see her.”

  “Celine is back in the States.” Unfortunately. As much as Nightshade detested having to get rid of Celine, she’d had to do it. Mankel wouldn’t risk any interference in his plans.

  Nightshade had helped her father set up the meet with Mr. Sven, who’d acted as emissary from a Russian aristocrat who had generously agreed to take Celine off their hands and ensure she never made it back home to divulge their location.

  But that meet had been completely demolished when TF-S learned of the location and took out Mr. Sven and his men and then rescued Celine. That’s probably how TF-S
and Cotter had finally found their location.

  “I don’t believe you.” Caroline bolted for the door and Nightshade took off after her, but before she could reach her sister, the door swung open.

  Her father filled up the doorframe, his normally unwavering expression a mask of anger. He caught Caroline, wrapping his strong arms around her and held her in place as he glared at Nightshade over her head. “We agreed you wouldn't do this. She's not strong enough to handle it.”

  “She is strong enough.”

  “Look at her. Does she look like she's handling it well?”

  Caroline shook all over and sobbed, trying to fight her way out of Mankel’s embrace. “Let me go!”

  Nightshade watched helplessly, fighting the huge pit of desolation ripping open inside. “We're telling you the truth. I know it's hard to take in, but I swear on my life it's the truth.”

  Nightshade eased toward them. Maybe she could soothe Caroline. Her sister gave a furious kick, landing a solid blow to Nightshade’s ribs. Searing pain cracked across her torso and she went down to her knees.

  “You’re lying! Send me back! Send me home now!”

  Nightshade struggled to her feet, fighting off the wave of nausea and pain.

  Mankel tightened his grip, locking Caroline in place. “Sorry, I can't do that. He knows that I have you, and now he'll know that you know the truth. If I send you back, he'll have you killed.”

  “He won't! I won't say anything. I promise I’ll tell him... I'll tell him I didn’t know who had me.” Caroline’s voice rose to shrill pitch.

  “I'm not willing to risk your life, not when we’re finally together again. If you just calm down and listen, I can explain everything,” Mankel said.

  Nightshade stepped closer again, unable to stay so far back with her sister going into a full panic attack. “Just listen to him. Please. We want to keep you safe, not hurt you.”

  Caroline bucked and flung her head back, continuing to kick her feet in the air.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't want to have to do this.” Mankel reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe.

  “No! Let me talk to her some more.” Nightshade sprung forward, but burning pain dug into her side and she hit the ground. She watched helplessly as her father sank the needle into Caroline’s neck and saw her go limp in his arms.

  “I warned you, didn't I? She wasn't raised like you. She's soft. It was too much at once for her to comprehend. You should have followed the plan.” Mankel lifted Caroline in his arms and turned to the door. “That's always been your problem, though, your unwillingness to follow orders. How many times do you have to hurt someone else before you learn?”

  The unexpected emotional blow caught her like a hard fist to the stomach. “I was just a child.”

  The memory hit her with a second blow, leaving her frozen to the ground. Storm and Nightshade had gone on their first solo mission, assigned to sneak into a mansion and take out the man who lived there. Nightshade had decided to change up the tactics at the last minute, thinking she’d found a better way in. If only she’d known what lay in wait. She’d barely escaped with her life, but Storm hadn’t.

  “That was an accident. I took my punishment and learned my lesson.” The memory of burning flesh assaulted her. She’d taken the searing brand on her flesh as her punishment in silence, refusing to let out screams of agony.

  Her father’s black brows slashed low over his equally black eyes. “You were sixteen years old. Old enough to follow an order. When I was sixteen, I was fighting off your grandfather, protecting your grandmother from being beaten to death.”

  She nodded, unable to speak past the heaping dose of guilt.

  “Nightshade,” her father’s voice came out soft, his shoulder’s sagging as he held her sister in his arms. “I know you want to be with your sister. And I know talking to her made that desire even stronger. That’s part of the reason why I didn't want you to face her so soon. I know how hard it is to leave someone you love behind.”

  She tried to swallow her longing, even as every molecule in her body urged her forward, screaming at her to stay with her sister. “I just wanted to see her.”

  “I understand. But if you back out now, you know as well as I do that he will hunt your sister to the ends of the Earth and all our careful planning will be for nothing."

  And she would let not only her father down, but her sister and her entire team too.

  "He's already come so close to destroying our family once before. Are you willing to risk it all just to spend time with your sister now?"

  "No, you know I'm not."

  "I hope not, because Merc's here. He’s right outside the perimeter wall. Are you ready?”

  She had to become her sister, Caroline, and fool one of the deadliest assassins on Earth. She had to pretend she hadn’t had a lifetime of training, just like him. That she was helpless and in need of rescue.

  “I’m ready.”

  Chapter 2

  Merc hunkered down on the rise just outside of the palace, his binoculars pressed to his face for so long they should have melted into his skin hours ago. But he wasn't about to break eye contact with this place. Not when he’d finally found it.

  For years he’d hunted Jack Mankel, aka Mr. J, and for years he’d come so close, only to have his mortal enemy dance just out of reach. Until today.

  Today Merc actually saw Mr. J in the flesh – not through some grainy drone surveillance he pulled from secret military files. He saw the man responsible for more deaths than he could count, stroll into a second story room wearing a black suit that probably cost more than Merc made in a single year.

  As a member of the United States Special Forces unit Task Force Scorpion, TF-S, his paycheck didn’t exactly buy corvettes and nice houses. But then, Merc didn’t exactly care about money.

  Mankel, now secondhand to the leader of the Islamic State of Afghanistan, was living a life of luxury in the Middle East supported by illegal funds grown on the bodies of dead women and children.

  Jack Mankel.

  Merc rolled the name around in his mind. For years he’d only known the man as Mr. J – former CIA liaison to Task Force Scorpion, and Merc's former mentor.

  His teammates had asked Merc where he came from, who he was, what his last name was – only to be left empty handed as Merc stared them down without a word. He hadn't gone into the SF for the same reasons his teammates had, that altruistic need of honor and glory. No, he’d gone into the SF because he’d had nowhere else to go.

  His first memory was of waking up in that cold sterile room laid out on a gurney with blood leaking from his body and Mr. J's face floating above him, peering down at him like he was a damn lab rat instead of a human being. Merc couldn't have been much more than a teenager at the time – although he didn't remember his actual birth date.

  Just like Merc didn't remember his last name.

  The only thing he remembered was his training. He was an assassin. A blacked out operative without a past, unable to exist in the civilian world.

  “Any sighting of the little bird?” The voice of Hunter James, his team leader, crackled through the hidden communication device in his ear. TF-S waited two klicks out in a hide they’d set up over two days ago.

  Merc activated his comm device by pressing a nearly invisible button near his throat. “Negative on little bird, but the vulture is present.”

  There was a pause while Hunter processed the news that Merc spotted Mr. J. Years of tracking a man they’d all once looked up to, a man who had betrayed his team and his country, and they’d finally found him because Mr. J had made a mistake. Instead of only kidnapping Caroline Cotter from her arranged wedding at the plantation nearly a month ago, his goons had taken another hostage as well, Celine Latimer. In a bid Merc guessed was to keep Celine quiet, Mr. J had sold her to a Russian sex slave trafficker. TF-S barely rescued her in time.

  It had been Celine who’d unwittingly provided the clues to Mr. J’s location.


  “Hold for eyes on little bird,” Hunter finally said.

  “Roger.” Merc kept his binocs trained on J.

  J strolled to the large open archway as if he hadn’t a care in the world. If only Merc could train his sniper rifle on him and end his miserable life right now. But if he did that, if he gave in to that temptation, he might never find out about his past. Mr. J was the only man Merc knew who might have some insight into where he came from. Who he was. If he had a family....

  Merc clenched his hands into tight fists around the binoculars. He’d wait. He’d been patient so far, tracking and hunting J down, and he wouldn’t blow these past few years on a whim of rage.

  He did another sweep of the courtyard, timing the movements of the guards. It had taken him a full hour to figure out their schedule, realizing the seemingly random changing of guards actually had a pattern.

  It was a trick he’d learned from none other than Mr. J himself when he’d first started his training: Never let the enemy know your next move, never work on a timer – that way no one can ever predict your movements.

  Every nine and a half minutes, the guard from the left corner crossed the courtyard like he was going to the west wall, only to veer off north, leaving the corner he’d vacated unguarded for no more than thirty seconds as the guard from the furthest corner of the courtyard shifted to take up residence in the abandoned spot. During this time, other guards, seeming to shift in and out of the palace at random intervals, filled in the empty spots so they formed a constantly moving maze and impenetrable wall. Except every thirteen minutes there was a one-minute window on the east wall where he could slip through completely unnoticed.

  In Mr. J's attempt to be unpredictable, he’d left himself vulnerable. And just like Merc had been trained, he would exploit that vulnerability to capture his former mentor and leader.

  Merc caught a movement deep within the room and zoomed his lens. His chest went cold like someone had poured a bucket of ice water through his veins.

  Caroline Cotter.