Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  “All right, you two. I think more than anything, Caroline needs to rest.” Cotter gently extracted her from Caroline’s avenging angels and Nightshade sank thankfully into his side.

  “But I fired up the ovens the second I heard your plane touched down.” Francis snapped her bony fingers.

  “I, um, not right now,” Nightshade stuttered out, completely flabbergasted by the whirlwind of doting and hugging.

  And a little part of her warmed by Harriet and Francis’s obvious concern for her wellbeing. Even when she’d been shot or cut or burned, the most attention Nightshade got growing up was a quick bandage job and a rough ‘tough it out’ from her father.

  Francis’s determined expression fell and regret had Nightshade recalling her statement. “I could use a little snack, though. Maybe a protein bar or something.”

  Francis threw a hand over her chest and stumbled back only to have the heavyset Harriet hold her upright. “I’ll not feed something so generic to my baby right after she’s returned to the nest. You just go on up to your room and rest. I’ll bring you up your favorite.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nightshade spit out as fast as she could, anything to appease the woman. Did Caroline have to put up with this much hovering? She’d thought the senator was overbearing in the hospital, but he didn’t have anything on these two. Caro’s surrogate mothers could make her mission much more complicated.

  “Come on, I’ll take you up to your room.” Cotter patted her hand on his arm and led her down a short, narrow hallway of dark wood panels. He pushed through a small swinging door and into a grand dining room, its center piece a gorgeous heavy wood table gleaming underneath a chandelier dripping with crystals.

  Nightshade tried to take it all in, take note of the doorways and windows for possible avenues of escape, but they kept moving, straight into a sitting room and then the foyer. She’d seen photos from a magazine spread of the house, but in person, the dark hardwood floors and balustrade mixed with pristine white stairs and walls held her mesmerized.

  She could put at least three teams in this one room alone, along with a large latrine.

  Cotter led the way upstairs and she let her hand skim over the smooth polished mahogany railing, savoring for a moment the cool caress. They climbed to the third story and hung a right down a wide maroon carpeted hallway lined with paintings and portraits. “I had the staff hang your favorite paintings here while you were gone. I wanted to make everything as perfect for you as I could.”

  Nightshade glanced at the heavy gilded frames and antique paintings of ladies in waiting and picnics from what had to be the 18th century with a concealed shudder. No, thank you. She’d never had the time, or the inclination, to indulge in art.

  “And I had them place Precious right here next to your bedroom. I thought she might give you some comfort.” Cotter stopped directly in front of a portrait of a tiny white fluffy dog with a pink collar and a diamond heart pendant. In the background sat a matching pink glittery bowl, and a heavy gold frame encased the whole painting, which took up the entire panel of the wall.

  “Oh. This is...” Absolutely appalling. Nightshade slapped a hand over her mouth and tried not to laugh. What was the point? It definitely didn’t have a chance in hell of stopping an enemy unless it got under the attacker’s feet and caused him to trip.

  Besides pets were just a time suck. They couldn’t feed themselves, clean up their own crap or aid on a mission. Especially little Precious here.

  “I miss her too. It's hard to believe the old girl finally gave up last year, but I thought since she's been with you since you were a toddler, it would make you feel better.” Cotter gave her a light fatherly hug.

  “Come on, why don't you get comfortable in your room? I'll have Harriet bring up the snacks later.” Cotter ushered her to the end of the hall and a set of double white doors.

  Pictures hadn't done Caroline’s bedroom justice, not even close. Everything in here was some sort of shade of pink. Nightshade gave a brief inward shudder. She would give her life for her twin, but they were going to have to have a serious talk about Caroline's obvious obsession with pink things.

  “Thanks, Dad. I think I might sleep the next two days straight.”

  Some of the tension left his body and he pulled her into a hug, leaving Nightshade to stand there stiffly, unsure of how to react.

  “I was so sure I’d lost you,” Cotter's voice cracked.

  “I’m happy to be home.” The words tasted so foreign on her tongue, and even more so for a man she'd been brought up to hate.

  Finally, he released her, dabbing at the fresh tears on his face. Nightshade checked her gut reaction to tell him to suck it up and quit crying. Instead, she gently patted his arm, much like he'd been patting her hand this whole time. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  “You'll have to forgive me; this whole thing has left me a little bit emotional. When I lost your mother and then your sister right after that, I thought I’d never find the will to live. But then I looked into your eyes in the hospital and your tiny little hand wrapped around my finger.”

  Anger engulfed Nightshade’s insides and she struggled to maintain the act. How could he stand there and lie like that? Nightshade hadn’t been kidnapped at birth. Caroline had. Tom Cotter killed Nightshade’s mother and kidnapped her sister for revenge. And now he stood here, sopping up his fake tears….

  Nightshade spun to face the dresser before Cotter saw the heat blazing inside her. “Well, I'm home now and that's all that matters, right?”

  “Right. Listen to you comforting me, and you're the one injured.”

  Nightshade glanced his way in time to see Cotter's gaze freeze into hard crystals.

  “All right, I'll leave you to rest. I think I might turn in early myself tonight. I love you, Caro.” He pressed a brief kiss to her forehead and yanked her in for another hug.

  All her life, Nightshade had wished her father would hug her and tell her he loved her. That everything would be okay. In her wildest dreams, she'd never imagined Tom Cotter would be the first one to do it.

  The thought left her shaken.

  He stepped back, holding her arms, seeming to wait on her response, which Caroline would probably have already done by now. After all, she had supposedly been through a huge and terrible ordeal and was just now safely back in her father's presence.

  Nightshade reached deep inside, remembering the words Mankel had said. The life of her team depended on Nightshade, as did her chance for revenge against the man who destroyed their family — the very man gazing down at her with such fatherly love right now. “I love you too, Dad.”

  Chapter 12

  Merc leaned against the gleaming mahogany wood paneled wall in the Senator’s study to catch his breath.

  Fucking hell, this weakness was a damn nuisance.

  He'd managed to ignore the continuous burning and itching as his wounds healed, not the worst he'd experienced in his life, but the hangover after the infection was as bad as when he’d recovered after the explosion and traumatic brain injury that had obliterated his memory. It had taken him nearly six months to get back to normal and another six to increase his strength and stamina to where it was a week ago.

  J had seemed like his savior, walking Merc through the endless months of physical therapy. He had come to depend on the man like a father. J told him he’d been the one to find him on that street in Afghanistan all those years ago. From what little J piecemealed out, Merc knew he’d been part of an army patrol that had been hit by an IED… And that Merc had been the lone survivor.

  The government had done a complete cover up on the mission, too. Merc had spent nearly a year trying to find out any info on his dead teammates, but it was as if they’d been erased from history. Existing only in the brief flashbacks that left him shaken and frustrated.

  He was nobody, a nameless soldier given the chance to avenge his nameless team by joining J’s elite task force. He’d given his life to Mr. J, acting as his personal
mercenary until he’d been allowed to join up with Task Force Scorpion.

  It wasn’t until a few years later that Merc and TF-S discovered the truth about Mr. J when he’d faked his death and tried to wipe the team off the face of the Earth to cover his tracks completely.

  “You okay?” Aaron Speirs did a quick peek into the room through the open doors of the study.

  “Just taking a second. I'm fine.”

  Aaron shook his head. As the team’s medic, he knew exactly how much Merc suffered. And since he'd been with him up until Merc had found Mr. J’s palace, he'd also been emotionally invested in the mission because of his relationship with Celine.

  “I'm telling you, man, if you'll just take another couple of days and fully recover...”

  “I can't. Something's about to happen. Cotter’s right, J didn't go to all that trouble, all that setup, just to let it go. He's going to do something and he's going to do it soon. The most logical place would be here.”

  Aaron shook his head ruefully. “We are all here to make sure J doesn’t lay a finger on Caroline again. It’s not all on you, brother. Besides, you can’t protect her if you’re not healthy.”

  Merc straightened from the wall and glared down at his teammate. “Yes, father.”

  Speirs threw up his hands and backed out of the room. “Just looking out for you.”

  “I'm good. You don't need to babysit me.”

  Merc waited on Speirs to disappear from the doorway before he placed a steadying hand on the wall. He knew he was pushing it, knew Speirs was probably right, he just didn't know how to not do his job at one hundred percent.

  Just like he didn't know what J had planned, or when he would attack, but he knew he would be damned if he was ever caught off guard again.

  The study stretched up a full two stories, the back wall lined from top to bottom with volumes and volumes of expensive looking books. Wood paneling covered the bottom half of the rest of the room, and large windows at least fourteen feet tall flanked the exterior wall. Plush dark brown leather club chairs and sofas sat arranged neatly around a large fireplace directly opposite the windows. It was a man's room, perfect for what he imagined a senator would require.

  It wasn’t the easiest place to break into with only two windows already covered with the latest security sensors and alarms, but it was still a target. And a hard target at that since this was the Senator’s home office.

  Merc hadn't had a chance to talk to Cotter yet about any hidden safe rooms behind the bookshelves or in the walls, but that was on his to do list. He'd already secured the ground floor, and the rest of his team was finishing up clearing the second and third floors.

  They split TF-S up with half of them doing roving patrols on the exterior of the house, staying close, and the other half constantly moving throughout the interior. Cotter had already hired a new private security firm, approved by TF-S, to guard the rest of his property. Breaking into this place would be as easy as walking into Ft. Knox with a semi-automatic strapped to your shoulder. There was almost zero chance anyone could infiltrate the property undetected, and even if they managed to get past the wall and the exterior guards, Merc had planted various tripwires throughout the house that would alert him to any breaking and entering so that the interior unit could swarm the intruder.

  Yet, he still couldn’t relax. He had this niggling sensation that wouldn’t go away.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to soothe the sensation physically, when he caught a hint of movement by the doorway. A small shadow in the dark. He’d turned off all the lights except for one lamp in the room. The stature was too small to be Cotter, too small to be anyone but a female, and instant recognition hit him. “Caroline?”

  She froze on the spot, half in, half out of the doorway. He must've startled her, leaning back in the shadows of the room completely hidden from view.

  He took a few steps into the lamplight, so that she could see it was him. “Are you okay?”

  “I… yeah, I'm fine.” Something in her voice sounded a little bit off.

  “I thought you’d turned in for the night. Are you looking for your father? I think he's gone to bed.”

  “Actually, I was having trouble going to sleep. Thought I'd get up and walk around, see if I could find a good book to read.” She wavered in the doorway. “I didn't realize you were in here. I'll just go back up to my room.”

  Something lurched inside his chest and he reached out for her. “Stay.”

  “It’s okay. I've already bothered you enough.”

  “No, you haven't. I understand not being able to sleep. I'm a night owl.” Had been since he could remember. He could nap anywhere — on a recon after he'd been laying in the brush for two days, sitting in a foxhole surrounded by gunfire — but sleep through the night? It just wasn't in his DNA.

  “Me too.” Caroline headed behind the couch and gripped the back like it was some type of obstacle she could keep between them. Part of him was glad, but another part wanted to toss the couch sideways so he could be nearer.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  She shrugged. “Not really much to talk about. Just can't sleep, that's all. So, how are you? I'm surprised you’re moving around so much already.”

  Merc kept his distance. Even though he didn’t fully understand why, he knew that if he started edging closer, he wouldn't stop until he reached her. And he had no business being near her the way he wanted to be. “I’m not very good at following doctor's orders. Besides, I want to be ready just in case.”

  She cocked her head to the side, her blond hair spilling over her shoulder, the golden lamplight highlighting the silky texture of the strands. “You really think Mr. J will come here?”

  “I have no doubt. You don't know him like I do. J has no compunction attacking on United States soil.”

  “But you guys have this place locked down. It would be a suicide mission for him to attempt to show up here.”

  “I don't think he'll do an all-out frontal attack. He's too smart for that. No, he'll get inside in a way none of us will expect.”

  Caroline physically flinched and Merc cursed under his breath. He found it so easy to talk to her, like they’d known each other for years, forgetting for a moment that she was an innocent pawn in the middle of their silent war.

  “But don't worry, my team is everywhere, and your dad hired an extra security detail. I’m in the process of putting sensors on all the windows and doors. I'll know it the moment he steps foot onto this property, you have my word.”

  She wrapped her hand around her throat, the still-healing rope burns on her wrists standing out in deep red scars on her pale skin. “You make him sound so terrible. So scary and powerful.”

  “Not scary, just ruthless and highly intelligent. He’s a master at manipulation.” He'd managed to completely trick Merc and their entire Special Forces team right along with the CIA for years until finally the truth had been revealed. Mr. J’s loyalty lay only to himself – and that meant he would do whatever he could to obtain more power and more wealth, regardless of the casualties.

  “So, this will be the room that you guard the whole time?”

  Her innocent question warmed him. Even after what she’d been through, she somehow managed to come off as strong and yet vulnerable. A total abstract melding of traits that he found completely beautiful. And sexy.

  “No, I was just clearing the area. My men and I will move throughout the house, just like our team outside.” In a pattern that no one can detect or predict.

  Her nails dug into the back of the couch and she leaned forward. “So, what you're saying is, I cannot move freely about my own house? That my father lied and he really is going to keep me here?”

  “If your father is as smart as I think he is, he will.” That was the only way their team could guarantee her protection and safety. No matter how heavily secured the estate remained, until J was brought down, Caroline Cotter’s life was at risk.

  “So then why even b
other rescuing me if you were just going to make me exchange one prison for another?”

  Merc snorted. “I would hardly call this a prison.”

  “And what would you know about prisons?”

  Without thinking, his feet carried him across the room, not stopping until his shins bumped into the couch cushion. “I know a lot more than you do, princess. Trust me, your father’s only doing what's necessary to keep you safe. The minute you step out the door, you could be targeted. He has snipers that could kill you from over a thousand yards away, and no matter how hard I try, I won't be able to predict that or stop the bullet.”

  “I’ll be trapped here for the rest of my life, then? What kind of life is that?”

  “The kind where you stay alive and breathing,” Merc countered.

  Her nostrils flared, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed the couch. “I refuse to live my life ruled by fear.”

  “I'm not asking you to live like this forever, just until we capture him.” Merc tried to reason with her. Surely she could see his logic, couldn’t she?

  “And what if that's a year from now? Two years? Never?” Caroline lifted her chin and Merc’s admiration of her spirit rose. She had an unrelenting thread of strength running through every word. She argued with logic and passion, not tears and emotion.

  And although it made no damn sense whatsoever, he found himself agreeing with her. There is no way in hell Merc would let anyone tell him where he could and could not go, or keep him locked up indoors for the rest of his life. Just the thought chafed him, so he could only imagine how it made Caroline feel, especially after being held captive.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t take the chance that he will get to you again.” He refused to allow her to be injured or captured again, not under his watch. “Besides, it won’t be that long. We’ll find him or he’ll come here to finish what he started.” Which meant cleaning up his tracks and the only guarantee for that would be killing Caroline. “He won’t stop. Believe me, I know from personal experience.”