Revenge River: Men of Mercy, Book 9

by Lindsay Cross

  “From what I’ve gleaned, Cotter had arranged the marriage to the General. I think in his own twisted way, he was trying to protect her from J by merging with one of the most powerful Generals in D.C.”

  The door squeaked open and Caroline peeked her head in, focusing first on Merc and then Hunter. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll come back later.”

  “No. Stay.” Merc’s gut tightened and an answering fire ripped across his torso. He forced himself to relax.

  Why the hell did her presence affect him so much?

  “I just wanted to see if you were really okay.” She stayed there, holding the door open with her fingertips as if she were ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

  “When did you wake up? I thought you were still out. And why are you up walking around? You should be resting.” Where the hell was her father now? From what Merc had been told Cotter had yet to leave her side.

  Hunter stood. “I think I’ll let you take it from here, brother. I’m gonna go check on the debriefing. If I hear anything new, I’ll let you know ASAP.”

  Merc nodded, partially glad and partially worried that Hunter was leaving him alone with Caroline. He still didn’t know what to do with the protective feelings she stirred, but he did know he had no right to feel that way. Caroline Cotter was too good for him and Merc had no time for any kind of connection with her. Not until he put his demons with J to bed.

  “Ma’am, I’m glad to see you made it out safe and sound.” Hunter eased past her in the doorway and quietly shut the door behind him.

  Merc gestured for her to come closer. “Why don’t you take his chair? I seriously doubt you should be up and walking around this soon.”

  She drifted across the floor, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she took her seat. “I’d say I’m in much better shape than you according to the staff, and Dr. Klein said you’d already tried to escape once today.”

  “I don’t like being tied down like this, too weak to do what needs to be done.”

  She nodded as if in understanding, the long shadows across his hospital room making the dark bruise on her face seem even deeper. Merc took in her high sculpted cheekbones and small curvy nose, evident even with the swelling. She seemed so fragile. He could see why Cotter would give her whatever she wanted.

  But at the same time, Caroline had an inner fierceness that no bruises could hide. Her strength and fragility was an intoxicating combination that fascinated him.

  Merc clenched his hand into a tight fist at his side, frustration curling his fingers. He had no business noticing her bone structure. Or her beauty. What the hell was wrong with him? She didn’t care about him. She’d be gone just as soon as her daddy snapped his fingers and got her back on his private plane back to D.C. and Merc would head to his bunk in the barracks. “So why are you really here, in my room?”

  “I told you, I wanted to check on you.” She wrapped her hands around her waist and leaned forward in the chair.

  “And why would you care how I’m doing?” A spoiled princess like her needed him for rescue and nothing more. He was a battle-weary soldier, scarred on the inside and out, an orphan without a past, and only distant and elusive memories to tease his subconscious. He was eaten up with the need to find out who he was and exact revenge on Mr. J. Caroline Cotter could play no role in that life.

  “I thought you might like the company. Obviously, I was wrong,” Nightshade bristled.

  Merc chuckled at her irked tone. “Easy, princess. I wasn’t trying to ruffle your feathers. Just trying to find out the truth. I don’t like it when people lie to me.”

  She stiffened, losing that hunched over lost expression in an instant. “I’m not your princess. And I wasn’t lying. But now that I’ve seen you’ll obviously survive your puny wounds, I’m going back to my room.”

  She made to rise and Merc shoved upright, feeling like a complete ass. Her wounded expression, although she tried to hide it, was a gut punch. He couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t understand it. “Wait. Don’t leave. Not yet.”

  He didn’t draw a breath again until she reluctantly sank back into the chair and blew out a huff.

  “Apparently I’m a little grouchy when I’m injured.”

  She arched a brow. “Is that your attempt at an apology?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, you suck at it.”

  He couldn’t contain the bark of laughter that escaped, even knowing pain would accompany the sharp movement.

  She spotted the grimace that followed and was immediately at his side. “You’re in pain. I’ll get Dr. Klein.” She made to leave again, but this time he reached for her elbow, careful of the bandages. A bolt of shock shot up his arm, and her wide blue gaze slammed into his in alarm.

  What the fuck was that?

  “It’s okay. Breathing hurts, and you made me laugh. The pain was worth it.” He tried to shrug it off and forced himself to release her elbow.

  “Yeah, there hasn’t been a lot to laugh about lately. You could’ve died from your injuries. If it wasn’t for your team finding us, we both would probably be dead.”

  “So is that what happened, then? My team rescued us?” He tried to read her, but she glanced away.

  “Of course they did. Don’t you remember?”

  Merc answered honestly, “Not really.”

  She plucked at her hospital gown. “They found us just in time. I don’t think you would have lasted much longer.”

  She was acting as if she were avoiding answering his question, and yet hadn’t she just answered him? “And what about you, Caroline? Did they rescue you in time?”

  He couldn’t shake off the reoccurring flashes of Salaam leering at him with a knife, taunting him with the fact that he would rape Caroline right in front of him if he didn’t cooperate. It could be just a dream, a figment of his fevered imagination, or could be one of the splinters of truth left to dig into his conscious.

  “They didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re asking.” Her voice came out bitter and harsh, and he didn’t like that one bit.

  “It doesn’t always have to come to rape for a woman to have been violated. Believe me, I’ve been to enough war zones to know.” And God help that bastard if he really had harmed Caroline, because he’d move right up to number one on Merc’s shit list, even above Mr. J.

  She stared through him, making him realize something had happened. Something had rocked her. All the possible violations…she was so tiny. And the whole time he’d been right there, strung up and trapped. Had she been waiting on him to save her? Had she screamed for help?

  “Tell me,” he demanded, his own voice shaky.

  “It doesn’t matter. Nothing really happened. Nothing permanent.”

  His entire body tensed. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means exactly what I said earlier. I wasn’t raped. Trust me.”

  She licked her lips and he couldn’t help but notice how perfect her mouth bowed. Her bottom lip poked out a little bit more than her top. She wrapped a hand around her throat, drawing his attention to her bandaged wrists. “What happened to your hands?”

  “You passed out on the horse. I had to wrap the reins around my hands to hold you up. It just rubbed a little sore is all.” And yet her hands were completely wrapped from her palms to her elbows with fresh white bandages. A little sore needed a Band-Aid, not this.

  Merc swallowed, working through the fact that she’d injured herself to save him after he was too late to save her.

  He’d failed her.

  He reached out and trailed his fingers lightly down her bandage to twine in with hers. He’d never apologized for anything, not even when he’d had to put a bullet in his own teammates head. But he’d never felt anything like the way he felt with Caroline. “I’m sorry.”

  Her head jerked up in astonishment. “You have nothing to be sorry for. If it wasn’t for you, neither one of us would’ve survived that explosion.”

  �
��And if I hadn’t passed out, you might not have ever been injured.”

  The first real twinkle of humor lit her face and Merc held his breath waiting to hear her response. “Well, when you figure out how to keep from passing out after losing that much blood, make sure and let me know. We can make a fortune.”

  Her resiliency, when most civilians would’ve been completely torn apart, left him in awe. There was more to Caroline Cotter, and deep down, Merc knew he’d only scratched the surface.

  The door burst open, the sharp light piercing, and Merc threw his arm up to shield his vision. Sen. Tom Cotter’s harsh voice filled the room. “Caroline, who let you leave your room? I’ve been frantic searching all over this place for you. I called security, the nurses, the doctors… no one knew where you were.”

  Caroline’s body jerked straight, as if she just suffered whiplash. “Do I have to ask permission to leave my hospital room to check on the man who saved my life?”

  Cotter glanced down and saw their hands clasped together, and Merc realized the moment the senator drew his own conclusion. No matter how wrong it was, Merc refused to let go of Caroline’s grip, sensing an almost hostile irritation between the two.

  “You sure as hell do. I’m not losing you again when I’ve just gotten you back.”

  “Do you not understand that your overbearing control is the reason why you lost me in the first place?”

  Cotter staggered back a step from the sharp arrow of her words. Merc didn’t have any sympathy. The man had set up an arranged marriage with a General old enough to be Caroline’s grandfather. He deserved to suffer.

  “You can’t disappear like that and not tell anyone! We don’t know where J is. He’s got people everywhere, even spies in the government. You don’t think he could have someone here working for him, waiting for the opportunity to kill you?”

  “So what’s your answer, then? Are you going to keep me locked up for the rest of my life? From what you’re saying, anyone on this planet could be out to harm me.”

  “I’m not going to keep you locked up. That’s not what I want for you at all. I want you to be happy… and safe.”

  “How much safer do you think I can be than in this room with Merc right now?”

  Her response had Merc staring up at her in shock. Then the instinct to protect her shot into overdrive. He felt every inch of her skin beneath his hand, was aware of her on a higher level.

  Cotter stood there with his hands fisted at his sides and didn’t answer.

  Caroline gave a disgusted sigh and extracted her hand from Merc’s. He fought the sudden rise of loneliness left in the wake of her touch. He didn’t have time for emotions, let alone this kind of drama. He couldn’t afford to care. He had to live for revenge - it was all he knew. All he had.

  So then why could he feel her even when they weren’t touching?

  “Don’t bother answering. I’m going to my room to sleep.” Caroline got up and brushed past her father as if he were some filthy beggar in the street.

  After the door shut behind her, Cotter remained, focused on Merc.

  “What?” he barked, picking up the trail of hostility Caroline had blazed.

  “My daughter is right. I can’t keep her locked up forever, but I can’t let her wander around unguarded either. You and I both know J is not going to let this go. He’ll come back – he’ll finish what he started.”

  And if J’d had his way, Caroline would’ve been dead a week ago.

  “What are you saying?”

  Cotter approached the bed, standing over Merc. “I’m saying my daughter likes you and trusts you. You saved her life. I want you to be her bodyguard.”

  “Fuck, no. As soon as I’m able, I’m getting on a plane back to Afghanistan. I’m going to find J and finish this.”

  “You won’t go anywhere if I give the order.”

  “Would you really trust me with your daughter’s life, knowing that you had to force me to stay here?” Not that Merc would give anything less than one hundred percent to guard Caroline, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Senator Cotter know that fact. He took orders only from his commander, not a pansy ass senator who’d never seen a hint of warfare.

  “What if I told you that J will come to us?”

  “And just how exactly would you know this?”

  Tom Cotter slowly shook his head. “That’s something I can’t divulge to just anybody. But if you and your team agree to come to my estate and provide security detail for my daughter, that might give me enough incentive to tell you.”

  11

  The limo pulled around a massive circular driveway, past the grand staircase and white double doors perched on the front porch of Senator Cotter’s plantation style home. Nightshade stayed tucked in the corner against the door, studying any possible entry and exit points on the premises.

  Manicured lawns stretched out for acres and acres. Beyond that, a solid wall of hardwood trees. And beyond that, she knew from studying the GPS imagery, stood a tall brick wall topped with black spikes.

  The mansion didn’t dwarf her father’s palace back in Afghanistan before they’d blown it sky high, but it did exude a certain amount of D.C. elegance and power with its thick white columns stretching from the ground to the hip roof three stories up. The circular drive held a large double fountain in the center, which was surrounded by rows of rose bushes.

  They drove around the side of the house, parking in the back beneath a covered awning. “Why are we stopping back here?”

  “Because your new security detail advised us to,” Cotter said. “They don’t want to risk any detection from satellites or drones of your movements about the estate.”

  Smart. Especially since she’d personally tapped into one of NORAD’s satellites to spy on this very location during her training. But she was supposed to be his privileged daughter, Caroline, not someone with spy savvy. Time to play dumb. “You really think he can do that?”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it for a second. But this time, I’m not giving him any chance to take us by surprise.” Cotter glanced out the window, his finger bent at his chin. “I will never allow him to hurt my family again.”

  Nightshade held silent, unsure of the Senator’s dim yet almost calculating mood, as their limo driver, the one who’d replaced the man hired by Mankel to kidnap Caroline in the first place, opened her door and assisted her out.

  Although her father had offered to have a personal assistant purchase designer clothing for her trip home, she’d refused, instead requesting something more loose and comfortable, using the excuse of her injuries to block any questions about her change in clothing preference. His assistant had come back with cotton tunics and dresses, simple and easy to put on. Not exactly the training gear she was used to, but better than heels and tight skirts.

  Nightshade, out of sheer curiosity, donned a dress — she couldn’t recall ever wearing one before. The lightweight soft cotton draped down her body, not tight but not too loose, in a pale shade of blue like the sky on a clear cloudless day. The freedom of movement surprised her as did how easy it had been to slip a knife from one of the hospital security guard’s belts and strap it to her thigh. She’d tried to go without a weapon, she really had, but she’d felt so naked. So vulnerable.

  “You ready?” Cotter held out his arm, the material of his white cotton button-up not daring to wrinkle.

  She peered up at the small covered back door. “For what?”

  “This.” Then he led her inside to an all-out ambush.

  “Oh honey, you’re back. I can’t believe it! I was so worried, I tell you, just sick with it.” A large older woman, her silvery hair pulled back into a loose bun, enveloped Nightshade in a nearly suffocating hug. Harriet. She was Caroline’s nanny turned housekeeper of the estate.

  Nightshade patted the woman’s back awkwardly, all of a sudden unsure of how to respond to such an outward drenching of emotion. “I’m okay.”

  Harriet locked her arms out straight, holding Night
shade for inspection. “You’ve lost weight. Your clothes are hanging on you - oh honey.” Harriet slapped a hand to her mouth and then reverently touched Nightshade’s cheek. “Your face.” Sympathy filled her expression, but then Harriet seemed to rally, her stern command sliding into place. “I’ll call Fernando tonight and have him here bright and early for a full body wrap, facial and massage. He’ll have you right as rain in no time.”

  “Fernando?” Nightshade’s head was beginning to spin.

  “No. No Fernando, Harriet,” Cotter interjected. “Not until you clear him with her new security detail.”

  Another arm locked on Nightshade’s bicep and pulled her from the near bruising grip of Harriet’s. This one, a tall skinny lady whose skin had started to wrinkle around her mouth, seemed to glare down at her. Francis, Cotter’s chef. “Harriet, you can’t fix that kind of trauma with superficial facials. She needs nutrients. I’ll fix you up your favorite foods tonight. The more you eat, the better you will feel.”

  “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.