“You are right, and I don’t want to find out.”
Tonya’s blush stained cheeks turned full-on red. She sputtered, and Hunter imagined, she was wracking her brain to come up with some type of come back. Shit. This was not the kind of attention he wanted or needed.
“Back off slut or I will kick you out of here.”
Hunter turned to see Cheri pinning Tonya with a lethal glare. Tonya looked like she would explode, but somehow she managed to keep it in. Instead, she stomped off and Hunter breathed a sigh of relief.
“Wow. I would have rescued you, but I swear Tonya stalks me.” Ranger righted her vacated stool and plopped down next to him, his dark blond hair sticking out in three different directions. Typical.
About fifty people crowded the room, if you included the bear holding a beer in the corner. Hunter nodded to C.W., Evie’s grandpa, across the room. He was straddling a backward chair at a table occupied by nearly half the MRG.
Hunter snorted. “Gee. Thanks. Now I know who not to call in a pinch.”
“Hey man, I can handle bullets, but not blood thirsty gold-diggers.” Ranger looked over his shoulder, winked at Cheri, and had a beer in his hand in less than a second.
Hunter could have raised his brow, but there was no point. Women always fell at his brother’s feet. Literally. One had even dropped to a knee and proposed to him a few years ago at a party. Too bad the only woman his brother wanted was the one married to his best friend.
“Any way, you seen her yet?” Ranger said.
“Yes, I’ve seen her.” Of course he’d seen Evie. He hadn’t been able to peel his gaze off her all night.
“Any progress?”
“Well, since I’ve got to talk to her for all of two minutes before she told me to basically fuck off, I’d say the answer to your question is no.” He’d made contact all right-and lost his ability to think. Kissing her hadn’t been part of the plan. Not yet anyway. He sure hadn’t planned on the atomic bomb of need that had exploded the minute he touched her.
Ranger cringed, “That bad, huh?”
“Apparently she has some hang-ups. But I’m sure we’ll work through them.” Maybe with a little light groveling on his part.
“You better. We don’t have a lot of time.” Ranger nodded at a group of men two tables over.
“No shit.” Hunter didn’t need a reminder that he had to swallow his pride and basically beg the woman who’d betrayed him to take him back.
“I take it the deputies don’t know Sheriff Brown got kicked out on his ass?” The men at the table lazed back in their chairs and while their pressed shirts and jeans seemed normal enough, something about them was not quite right. Their mouths moved in conversation with each other, but their eyes constantly scanned the room, never lingering on one person for too long.
“I’m guessing the sheriff didn’t want to tell his cronies he got punked down,” Hunter said. The men continued to act casual, laughing and nodding, but not one person walked within a foot of their table. Hunter had been too busy doing recon on the Videls to even notice them.
“Probably right. They got a really mean streak and if they scent blood in the water…” Ranger let his words trail off.
“The good sheriff will lose his position as head honcho.”
Ranger took a long pull off his beer and swerved the barstool around so it faced the mirrored wall behind the bar.
One of the deputies grabbed a girl walking past their table and pulled her onto his lap. She couldn’t be older than twenty-one and her expression closely resembled a bunny caught in a hunter’s snare.
His hands roamed over her body while his deputies watched the show, doing nothing to help the girl escape his grasp. Hunter’s muscles went tense, and in one move he sat his beer on the bar and his feet on the ground.
Ranger wrapped a hand around his arm, barely managing to restrain him. “Don’t. He won’t do anything in front of everyone.”
The young girl finally managed to escape and scurried away, disappearing into a circle of women near the restroom. “Too bad we’re on a mission. I’d mop up the shit stains on the floor with the bastard’s face.”
“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure before all this is over, you’ll get your chance.”
Apparently everyone in his hometown had a price tag, including Evangeline Videl. The Wharf, the MRG—all around him there was evidence she was in desperate need of funds. And would be willing to do anything to get the money—including betraying their country.
But no matter how much Hunter tried to picture Evie slinging an AR-15 over her shoulder, he couldn’t make the image stick. “I hope so. I’m gonna make sure he gets special attention.”
Ranger shook his head, his gaze sharp but amused. Hunter had never tried to be the nice one. He hadn’t seen the point. Family mattered. His country mattered. Loyalty mattered. Other than that… Sure, he had friends from high school, and he probably would have continued to hang out with them if he’d stayed in Mercy. Shit, he’d probably be working the ranch with his dad, drinking beer every Friday night with the boys.
But Hunter had joined the military a couple years out of high school, leaving behind most of his relationships in Mercy, and he hadn’t looked back.
“So where is Evie?” Ranger leaned sideways, his blue shirt pulling tight over his shoulders.
“She broke up the fight and one of the women threw a pitcher of beer on her. She took off out the back.”
Ranger’s smile disappeared into the first scowl Hunter had seen all evening. “She go home?”
“Nope. Upstairs.” They’d been watching the Wharf and its occupants for over two weeks now. The apartment upstairs was where the MRG met.
“Where are Hoyt and Jared?” Hunter asked.
“Back at base. Hoyt’s pulling the satellite images of the river and all the points of interest. Jared’s going over the intel from Mr. K.” Ranger’s words were tinged with bitterness. A bitterness that grabbed Hunter by the bones and hung on tight.
Mr. K was Mr. J’s replacement. Hunter had yet to meet Mr. K, and he’d avoid it for as long as possible. He’d learned his lesson. Never get too close. Never care.
TF-S had lost two men that night. Mr. J, Hunter’s mentor, and Shane Carter. Shane had been secretly classified MIA. His wife knew, but no one else.
“Anything new on Shane?” Hunter asked. So far, they’d found out nothing beyond that Shane was either being held hostage by Al Seriq or was dead.
Ranger paused, his beer halfway to his lips. “No.”
Infiltrating the MRG and following the weapons to Al Seriq was their best hope of finding Shane, taking down the terrorist and hopefully saving their hometown.
Hunter lifted his gaze and surveyed the room through the mirror’s reflection. His gaze slammed into C.W.’s. Time to implement their plan.
Hunter slapped a hand on Ranger’s shoulder and stood. “Go time.”
7
Evie pounded up the outside staircase, her footsteps thudding as fast as her heart rate. The old wooden steps creaked and groaned like an old man with arthritis, protesting her mistreatment of their shabby structure. Rain beat a steady staccato on the tin roof covering the stairs and the dock below them, providing some cover for her hasty retreat.
It had been raining relentlessly for weeks now, but rain was always welcome in the summer, when the crops were bone dry and liable to break in a strong wind. As liable as Evie was to break right now. The first time she’d seen Hunter in years and she’d been covered in beer. Shit. This wasn’t exactly the kind of look-what-you’ve-been-missing appearance she would have hoped to channel.
Still, there was the type of rain that fed the crops, and there was the type of rain that caused a flood. The Wharf, built on ten-foot stilts from fifty-year-old cypress wood, fared better than most structures in a storm. But the ground was saturated and the Mississippi was swelling to capacity. Talks of flooding were spreading through Mercy like the flu, apparently multiplying as fast as ex-boyfri
ends.
Everything she had worked so hard to build could be destroyed in a flood, but there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it. Powerless. Once again, she was powerless. She slammed the door to the small apartment over the bar and leaned against it for support. Tonight had taken a lot out of her and it wasn’t even over.
But this was no time to fall apart. She could analyze and dissect everything that had happened later. Now she had to get back to work.
Evie stripped out of her soaking clothes and turned on the shower, letting the hot water wash everything away. She braced both hands on the tile in front of her, dropped her head as she struggled for control. Her mother’s betrayal almost hurt worse than her father’s death, and for it to come on the night she’d run into both Marcus and Hunter… She reached for her safe place, the blank void in her mind where nothing and no one could reach her.
She couldn’t find it.
Long-buried tears spilled out and Evie wrapped an arm around her middle, holding in the sob that threatened to wrench her gut in half. She bent forward and sucked in air, trying to tame the tremors wracking her body.
Marcus disgusted her. Just being near him made her want to vomit. His careful elegance hid a monster she’d discovered too late.
Hunter disgusted her too. He’d left without a word five years ago, leaving a void she had barely managed to fill. But instead of repulsion, her body craved his like a crack addict craves a needle.
A hand shot through the shower curtain.
Her heart slammed against her chest like a two-ton truck hitting a tree at ninety miles an hour. A scream stuck in her throat. She jumped back. Slipped. Her feet shot north and she caught herself just before her ass slapped the bathroom floor.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” Cheri popped her head around the shower curtain, which was when Evie realized there was a bottle of shampoo in her hand.
Evie pulled herself upright, heart still racing, and grabbed the bottle, stifling the impulse to use it to smack her friend.
“You’re welcome.” Cheri’s voice dripped with the sweetness of acid.
As if she would thank Cheri for scaring the holy hell out of her. She popped the top and took a cautious sniff. The scent of spicy vanilla hit her.
“You shoulda kept on your toes. Everyone knows Bev fights dirty,” Cheri said.
Evie applied the shampoo to her hair before answering, “I know.”
“She could have punched you,” Cheri continued as Evie rinsed her hair, apparently content to carry on a mostly one-sided conversation. “You’re lucky Maxine stepped in.”
Evie cut the water off and yanked a towel down from the rack to dry off. “I know. Believe me. I know. Anything else?”
“Yeah, you need to hurry it up. I left your mom behind the bar.”
Evie wrapped the old brown towel around her body and jerked the shower curtain open.
“Yes, ma’am. I know Bev could’ve kicked my ass. Yes, I’m glad my mom bailed me out. And yes, I know I need to hurry up,” Evie said, not bothering to control her volume.
Cheri didn’t even try to look apologetic. She strolled into the connected bedroom and plopped down on the bed. “Good. Now that you’re through thinking about that asshole, you can get dressed and get back to work.” Cheri’s lips stretched over her pearlies in a huge grin.
Evie blew out a breath and turned to look at the clothes her friend had laid out on the twin bed. “Where’s the rest?”
“You’re looking at it.” The expression on Cheri’s face wouldn’t have looked out of place on an Olympian who’d won the gold medal.
Evie regarded her in silence, ready to take her best friend from gold to bronze. The clothes, if that’s what you could call them, would barely cover a Barbie-doll, let alone a full-grown woman. Hot pink tank top. Jeans cut so low she’d be lucky if her ass didn’t hang out.
“What? This is my cutest outfit.”
Evie had one of those moments that felt like it stretched from seconds into minutes and minutes into hours. Cheri was her best friend. End of story. But their taste in clothing was Victoria’s Secret and Betty White different.
Maybe she could blow dry her beer-soaked clothes?
“Oh hell no, I know what you’re thinking. You are going to put this outfit on right now,” Cheri said, rising from the bed.
The halter-top would cover her stomach, and her scar, but put her boobs on major display. “I can’t wear that. It’s been years since I’ve worn anything that sexy.” Evie trembled and inwardly cursed.
“You listen here. I am sick of watching you hide beneath ugly clothes two sizes too big.” Cheri crowded Evie’s personal space down to about two inches.
Evie sucked in a breath and gripped the towel tight enough to crush it into a Kleenex. Fear bubbled in her stomach.
“I’ve stood by for as long as I can, but dammit, you’ve been hiding for two years.” Cheri grabbed her ice-cold hands.
Evie’s chest tightened and she pulled away. Jagged shards of memory from her last night with Marcus sliced through her, still sharp enough to cut deep.
“I’m the one who found you. I took you to the hospital. I thought you were going to die.” Cheri’s words stumbled out in rough stops and starts.
Sobs built in Evie’s chest. She swallowed, but her throat just squeezed tighter. She remembered. She wasn’t conscious when Cheri took her to the hospital, but her friend’s soft voice was what had pulled her back from the darkness. Part of her had not wanted to come back.
“You didn’t die, you survived. You survived and started over, but you’re still letting him win.”
Evie broke. Her legs gave out and she crumpled to the floor. The sobs broke free and she buried her face in her hands. She knew it was true, that she was still dangling from Marcus’s puppet strings like a bad replica of Pinocchio. Well, Evie was tired of impersonating herself. Tired of being too scared to draw attention to dress like someone her age. Too scared to let anyone get close. Too scared to do anything.
Cheri dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her friend, and for a long moment, the two of them sat there crying together.
“Dammit, what the hell is wrong with me?” Evie leaned back and wiped her tears.
Cheri grabbed her hand, “Nothing is wrong. I wouldn’t expect you to be normal after what happened. But you gotta quit acting like a wimp.”
“You can’t talk to me like that.” Evie sniffed and wiped her running nose with the corner of her towel.
Cheri snorted. “Sure.”
Evie had introduced Cheri to the MRG early on, right after her family had started putting the militia group back together.
And her no-shit-no-service attitude was one of the main reasons Evie had asked her. That and the fact that Cheri had family along the river who helped them hide any one from Mercy that the sheriff or Marcus targeted.
“I’m talking about respect. Are you going to keep letting everyone run over you?”
Evie sniffed, rubbed her nose. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Apparently I’m not part of the club anymore.”
Cheri jumped to her feet, paced out of the tiny bedroom, over to the MRG table and kicked it. “I knew they were up to something. What happened?”
Evie filled her in on her conversation with her mother, holding her hurt in by a thread. “Basically, everyone would rather take the money than hold to the cause.”
“No. You’re not going to let them.” Cheri pulled Evie up and grabbed her shoulders. “You let this happen and you might as well have never left Marcus. Except this time you won’t be the only one in his pocket—we’ll all be there.”
“What choice do I have?” Evie wanted to scream. Shout. But she was too tired. If her own mother was willing to turn her back on her, what was the point?
“You are stronger than this. Think. You can find a solution.” Cheri said.
“What can I do? Marcus threatened to kill my mom if I prevent this deal from going through…not to mention the fact that my mom ju
st kicked me out. He runs this town! How am I supposed to fix anything?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. But you have to want to believe in yourself. You need to put on your big girl panties.” Cheri glanced in the bathroom, at the granny-panties hanging over the edge of the bathtub.
“I know.” Evie let her head fall into her hand.
Cheri picked the red thong off the bed and dangled it in front of Evie like bait. “The woman who wears this is in control of her life. The woman who wears those,” Cheri pointed to Evie’s beer-soaked undergarments and shuddered, “might as well move into Magnolia Nursing Home.”
Evie snatched the thong from Cheri’s fingertips and stood. Her veins heated with something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Something she’d pushed to the back shelf in her mind. Something that felt a lot like confidence.
“You’re right. I can fix this.” Evie forced the words out, her voice still husky with emotion.
Cheri gave her a hug. “That’s right. With my help. And after you kick some major ass, I expect to be promoted to VP.” She headed to the door. “I’ll leave you to it, El Presidente.” With that, she left and closed the door softly behind her. Evie dropped the towel. She stepped into the red satin thong, one foot at a time, and slid the panties up, savoring the feel of the sexy material. She’d worn cotton so long she’d forgotten the pure sin of satin on skin. The matching bra with its front closure went on next, followed by the low-slung jeans.
She turned then and strode to her meeting table. The original MRG had carved those letters into the wood many years ago. Before she was born, back when C.W. was a young man.
Evie lovingly traced the worn grooves in the lacquered cedar. This was her family now. This was her life. It was time to take it in both hands.
Evie squared her shoulders, went back to the bed, and pulled on the tiny pink top. Yes, it was time to lay all her old fears to rest and live up to the Videl family name.
First order of business: kick Marcus’s offer to the curb, no matter what resistance she faced from her mother or anyone else, and then kick his ass if he had a problem with that. No more missus-nice-gal.
Redemption River Page 6
