Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  She’d stride right down this hall to her father’s study because she lived here.

  For every minute Nightshade hesitated, her sister would be suffering. She had to act now, and she had to keep her head.

  Nightshade squared her shoulders and strode down the hallway. She checked to make sure the foyer was empty and stepped into the open space, strolling around the staircase and past the dining room, where the men's voices drifted out of the open door, then slipped into the study, not breathing until she’d quietly shut the door behind her.

  She went to the first row of books, located what had to be a first edition of Anna Karenina, and tagged its location in her mind. If someone caught her snooping around, she could claim she was looking for that book, and it would be a plausible excuse.

  As long as it wasn't Merc.

  She got the feeling he saw beneath her surface, and if she wasn't careful, he might figure out the truth. It didn’t matter how much she’d grown to admire the man or how much attraction there was between them, her teammates and her sister were more important. And if it came down to it, she’d do what it took to ensure her teammates’ freedom, even if it meant neutralizing Merc.

  Shaking off the sense of foreboding, Nightshade quickly moved to the senator’s desk and flipped open the laptop. It was password-protected, but she was able to easily hack it and was inside in seconds, the blue LED backlight glowing on her fingers as they flew across the keyboard. Those years of computer programming classes she’d hated, bored out of her mind when she had much rather been training, paid off and she was able to quickly sweep the system and files.

  Moments later she carefully logged out and lowered the screen, her heart sinking into her stomach. Cotter’s computer contained absolutely nothing useful, not even mildly classified government documents. Even more surprising was the various pictures of Caroline at all stages of life stored on the drive.

  Undeterred, she went to the farthest corner of the bookshelf and started her search, tapping lightly with her fingernail for a hidden door. It would be obvious of course, and way too predictable, but she still had to check.

  She made her way completely around the room, stopping at the last shelf by the doorway and yanked Anna Karenina from its spot with a frustrated sigh. At least she’d ruled out the study. The next logical place to look would be the senator’s bedroom. Third floor, left at the stairway, straight to the end of the hall. Although there was less traffic to worry about on the upper stories, she’d have a less plausible excuse to be there if she were caught.

  Nightshade clutched the book to her chest and breezed out of the study, head held high as if she hadn't just been on a secret mission to find Cotter's hidden server and tap into the United States government secrets.

  * * *

  Merc leaned forward, studying the screen in front of him carefully. When he’d failed to locate Caroline after lunch, he went immediately to the securities room they’d set up and scanned the monitors, shocked to find her only one room over from where they’d just been eating lunch — in her father’s study. He’d thought she’d be hiding out somewhere far from her father’s presence, fuming over their fight.

  But more than this, it was the way she was moving about the room that truly surprised him, her fingers touching on every third book on the shelves. Almost as if... His eyes narrowed. Almost as if she were searching for a hidden panel.

  Cotter had already given him the full blueprints for the house. There was no secret room in the study, but there was one in his bedroom, one that only the Senator and now Merc and Task Force Scorpion were aware of.

  What the hell was going on here?

  His mind flitted back to Shane Carter, his old teammate who was taken captive by the Islamic state of Afghanistan for over a year and brainwashed to become a secret mole, an enemy. Shane had been intent on destroying the team, had nearly killed his wife and forced Merc to put a bullet in his head.

  Was this some bad déjà vu? Had Mr. J somehow turned Caroline Cotter to the other side in those few weeks he had her?

  No, that type of psychological torture and manipulation took longer than a few weeks. So then why did she continue in a slow methodical circle around the room?

  He watched her every move, her every mannerism, trying to take note of anything out of place. She finally reached the last shelf by the doorway and yanked a book off the shelf, caressing the cover. Merc heaved a sigh of relief. She'd been looking for a damn book. Just like she'd said last night before... Before they devoured each other in a burst of passion that had rocked into his core. Unable to move, he watched as she clutched the book to her chest and left the room.

  Merc made a mental note to find out what types of books she read. Maybe he could surprise her with one.

  He gave himself a mental shake. He shouldn't care about what books she liked to read. She was his mission, his means to an end. As long as he stayed close to Caroline Cotter, Mr. J would come to him. Merc was still trying to convince himself of that fact as he tracked her across the various monitors, crossing the foyer, giving the open doorway to the dining room a wide berth, and running up the staircase to the third story. Probably going to her room to read and relax after the intense confrontation with her father. But instead of turning right, in the direction of her bedroom, she went left, all the way down the hall, and knocked on her father’s bedroom door.

  Merc caught a glimmer of movement on another screen, that of Cotter leaving the dining room and going upstairs, but he stopped on the second story. He turned to the left and then hooked a right, disappearing around the corner and Merc realized that portion of the west wing was completely off camera. As was his bedroom.

  Why was Caroline sneaking into her father's bedroom?

  Merc had every intention of finding out.

  He left the security room and ran upstairs, slowing his footsteps to silently approach Cotter's private rooms. He put his ear to the door, listening for any movement inside, and was met with silence.

  Merc eased the handle down on the door, pushed it open inch by inch, slipped inside the darkened room, and silently shut the door behind him. The book lay at the foot of the senator's bed, unopened. Caroline leaned over her father's desk on the far left of the room where Cotter had set up another smaller office. She hadn't heard him come in and was busily rifling through the loose-leaf papers lying about.

  Every instinct inside of Merc went off with alarm. There was absolutely no plausible reason why Caroline would be snooping through her father's private things... none good anyway. “What are you doing in here?”

  Caroline jumped a full foot in the air, spinning about to grip the desk with a white-knuckled grip. Her innocent pale blue gaze wide with horror.

  Merc pushed off from his stance on the wall, approaching her. While outwardly calm, inside he was racked with questions. Had J somehow convinced her to betray her father? As head of JSOC, Cotter had access to files on government-sanctioned covert operations, restricted to the highest level of security clearance. The kind of access Mr. J and ISA would kill for.

  But no matter how hard he tried to connect Caroline with the CIA’s most wanted traitor, he came up short. There had to be something else going on, something that Merc’s skills as an interrogator could draw out of even the most highly trained operative. Pumping Cotter’s civilian daughter for information would be as easy as taking a bite of ice cream pie. “Caroline, I’ll ask again, what are you doing in here?”

  Her blue gaze darted to the book on the bed, but Merc dismissed it right away. “I know you didn't go into his study to look for that book. Just like I know you didn't come into this bedroom to read.” He got within three feet of her and stopped, straining to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest. “Either you tell me or tell your father.”

  Even under the makeup her cheeks paled and she stammered out an excuse. “I – I – I don't know what to say.”

  Merc lowered his brows and took an intimidating step forward, knowing body langua
ge had almost as much impact on a person’s psyche as words and violence. Not that he could ever be violent against Caroline, but he would find out the truth. And so help him, if J had somehow convinced her to go over to his side...

  “Why don't we start with something easy. What exactly is it you're searching for in those papers?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the desk then back at him, and his gut clenched at the fear that was so obvious on her face. How could J have managed it so quickly – did he have something he was holding over Caroline's head? Maybe he’d threatened someone precious to her. Did he have a way to attack her father they didn't know about? Maybe he’d convinced Caroline that he could kill her father if she didn't feed him information. Merc was desperate for the scene in front of him to make sense.

  He inched forward until he was practically looming over her, only a foot between them now. Her scent drifted to him and he had to fight not to let his lids drift shut and savor her sweet smell. “I'm going to give you ten more seconds to answer me. Then I'm dragging your father in here and you two are gonna have a heart-to-heart with me right in the middle. Got it?”

  “I - I can't tell you.”

  He had to strain to hear her whisper. “Why not?”

  “I'm afraid,” she said.

  “Are you afraid of me, Caroline?” he asked just as softly.

  Her white-knuckled grip on the desk loosened and softened. “No.”

  Merc was very good at detecting lies, and in Caroline's tone, he didn’t sense one trace of falseness. “That would make you one of few. Most men are afraid of me.”

  Caroline cocked her head to the side, studying him in a way that made him feel like she was seeing beyond his carefully crafted exterior. “I know I should be afraid of you. I know that even some men on your team are.”

  “True.” A fact at first he’d found annoying, but now it was something he sought to enhance. People who feared him didn't question him about his past or probe for answers. His teammates respected him and they trusted him with their lives, but they didn't share that easy camaraderie with him which seemed to come so naturally to the rest of the team. On a subconscious level he realized it, but he ignored it. His size and his ferocity served the purpose, just like everything else in his life.

  “I know you could crush me, probably even kill me just like that.” Caroline snapped her fingers.

  Merc studied her for another second before answering. “But you know I won't, don't you?”

  He felt a hum, like a low electrical current buzz to life between them. He planted his feet, pulling on his reserves to remain in control.

  “It's not you who I'm afraid of.”

  And Merc had his answer. J had threatened Caroline with something precious, something more important to her than her own life. And even after spending the small amount of time he had with her, he knew it wasn't money or wealth or fame. It was her family. Her cold, almost antagonist behavior to her father must have been her way of dealing with her guilt.

  “He's not going to hurt you ever again; I will protect you with my life.”

  The next broken words she whispered nearly cleaved his control in half. “It's not me I'm worried about.” Her liquid eyes filled with truth and fear, confirming Merc's assumptions. He'd threatened her family, and after holding her captive and nearly killing her, why wouldn't she believe his threats?

  Mr. J had infiltrated her tight circle and kidnapped her from her own wedding. He probably rocked the very foundation of strength upon which she'd stood before that moment. “I won't let him hurt your family either. No one will hurt you again as long as I'm alive.”

  Chapter 17

  Nightshade drew in a shuddering breath at Merc’s intense sincerity. He meant every single word he said. She knew he wouldn’t hesitate even half a second to lay down his life for her for those she loved.

  “Why?” God she hated the way her voice trembled.

  Merc cupped her cheek with his powerful hands, cradling her jaw as gently as someone would a newborn baby. “I can't explain it. I've never felt it before, but I trust my instincts and everything inside of me wants every single part of you.”

  His warmth heated her like the sun on a perfect July day. She felt hot from the inside out, branded by his touch. She desperately clutched the desk behind her as she fought for control. “I don't understand it either.”

  His head inched lower, a lock of midnight black hair falling across his forehead. “I don't think this is something we’re meant to understand. I think it just is.” And then his mouth closed over hers and she stopped thinking entirely.

  She wanted him like she'd never wanted anything else in her life, like every cell in her body was incomplete without him. But why? Why didn't she hate him or at least have that cold indifference she typically felt toward her enemies?

  “You taste so sweet.” Merc peppered kisses across her jaw and she threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking her mouth back to his.

  She'd never been one to sit compliantly to the side and wait for someone else to take action. She made a decision and she followed through. And she knew in that moment, just like she knew the sun would rise tomorrow, that she would be with Merc today. No, it wasn't part of her mission. In fact, it was completely counterproductive to it, except for the fact that she couldn't think straight when he was near. She needed to find out what this all-consuming need meant, and hopefully remove it from her system.

  Then she could focus on her team...

  He nipped her bottom lip and she groaned out loud. He lifted her onto the desk, setting her down hard, and shoved her knees wide, nestling himself between her spread legs. She felt his hardness, knew what it was and wanted more. She grinded her hips up and down, seeking to soothe the fire inside but only flaming it higher. He shoved her to her back, his lips never leaving hers, bowing her head and neck over the narrow desk. She locked her ankles around his waist, her arms around his neck, and held on for more. His tongue thrust in her mouth, his head slanting, and she countered each move. He tasted all man, smelled like it too — raw and masculine and full of power.

  One hand scraped down her side, the pressure hard, abrading her sensitive flesh and she twisted, putting her breast into his palm, remembering how his lips had felt there last night. Merc kneaded her breast through the thin fabric of her shirt, and she shoved at his shoulders, finally breaking through the haze surrounding them long enough to pull her shirt up to her neck.

  He was panting just as much as she was, staring down at her chest, enraptured. A surge of feminine power urged her hand to gently tug the cup of her bra down and reveal her nipple to him. Under his gaze the bud tightened painfully, needing his lips around it. She arched up. “Please.”

  In a move that shocked her, he yanked her bra up and her shirt down, his fingers winding around her waist as he pulled her from the desk and marched from the room, pulling her along behind him. “Merc, stop. What are you doing? Did I do something wrong?”

  He didn't answer, just drove forward like a freight train. She tugged against him with all her strength, but she didn’t slow his progress. His power awed her.

  He slammed into her bedroom, locking the doors only to then span his hands around her waist, his fingertips touching as he propelled her backwards onto the bed. He landed on top of her, holding most of his massive weight up on his arms. In a lightning fast move, he ripped her shirt off of her and cast it to the floor, leaving her panting with erotic pleasure at his dominance.

  “Either you take off the bra or I’m ripping it, too.” His harsh voice rasped across her skin, driving her wild.

  With fumbling fingers, she tore at the clasp, somehow managing to unhook her bra and toss it across the room. By the time her back touched the sheet again, his mouth was around her nipple, drawing hard. She felt his teeth, with just enough pressure that it sucked the air from her lungs, freezing her to the spot with intense pleasure.

  “More.” She urged him on and he drew even harder, the pleasure
bordering on pain so intense her toes curled.

  Just like the night before, he lavished the same attention to both her breasts, nipping and licking and sucking until she was a writhing mass of need. She pushed his shoulders until he leaned back far enough for her to grab the hem of his shirt and tug it up over his chest. He lifted his arms, helping her when her arms weren’t long enough to reach the tips of his fingers, and then she fell back, mesmerized in helpless wonder at the broad expanse of his shoulders.

  With his long black hair wild and tumbling around his face, a shadow of a beard on his wide, strong jaw, and his scarred, heavily muscled chest, he was every inch a warrior. A soldier. A mercenary. And though she’d never dreamed of being intimate with a man, she knew their joining was meant to be.

  Hand trembling, she reached up to trace a long narrow scar that stretched from his left shoulder across his pec. “What happened here?” She tried to keep her tone light but failed miserably.

  Merc captured her hand in his, kissing the tips of her fingers one by one before he answered, “Knife fight with an African slave trader.”

  “I take it you won?”

  “What do you think?” He nipped her pinky and her hips arched involuntarily off the bed.

  “I think you're the strongest most beautiful man I've ever seen.” Multiple other small scars crisscrossed his chest, proof that he was a warrior. Just like her.

  His head dropped to hers. “No one's ever called me beautiful before. I think we need to have your eyes examined.” She heard the sincerity in his words, along with the dawning loneliness she recognized from her own experience.

  She clasped his face in her palms. “You are beautiful. You are strong. You are honorable.”

  His hands covered her own. “And you are strong. You are brave. And you're the most stunning creature I've ever seen. I'm so happy I found you.” He lowered his lips, brushing his mouth across hers in a feather-light kiss before lifting his head again. “And I promise, I'll stay by your side and protect you.”