Raylan
Men of Mercy
Lindsay Cross
Cypress Bend Publishing
Contents
Copyright
Introduction
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Before you go…
Redemption River: Men of Mercy Book 1
Also by Lindsay Cross
Copyright © 2015 by Lindsay Cross
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Introduction
Part of this story was previously published in the Anticipation: A Hearts & Handcuffs Anthology.
Praise for the Men of Mercy Series
“Lindsay Cross delivers high-powered action, alpha heroes and an exciting conclusion!”
- ELLE JAMES
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author
“This is one of those books that the phrase sit down, shut up and hang on would be used because it’s a wild ride from page one to the end.”
- 5 Star Goodreads Review, Redemption River
“This book was wall to wall action. Once the danger hit, it never slowed down. I was late leaving my house because there was no way I could stop reading.”
- 5 Star NetGalley Review, Redemption River
Acknowledgments
I want to give a huge thank you to Megan Mitcham for your daily motivation and for keeping it real. Your badass Base Branch Series rocks!!! I couldn’t have done it with out you!
Jennifer Windrow - thank you for dropping everything to do a final read through. I love your books and can’t wait for their release date!!!
Another big shout out to Kim Killion and Jennifer Jakes-without you and a bucket load of patience, the Men of Mercy would never have these truly awesome covers.
Thank you to my dad for giving me the love of reading and to my mom for dropping everything to read my books and catch those last minute mistakes.
My beautiful beta readers, Jenna, Jamie and Lauren-you’ve helped make the Men of Mercy shine.
And last, but most definitely not least, thank you to my true military hero-my husband. I love you all.
One
They say time travel isn’t possible, but tall, dark, and handsome Raylan Wild strolled up to Amber in a bar on Friday night. Right out of her past.
She stiffened, controlling that same urge to shake that had struck her the day he dumped her. And somehow, or by some miracle, she was dressed to kill.
Thank God.
She prayed her pale green sheath dress would hide her knocking knees.
Saline Latimer, her best friend, leaned sideways to get Amber’s attention. “Oh man, I think that gorgeous creature is coming our way.” Saline faced away from the huge half-moon counter, her blonde bob gleaming in the mirror behind the bar.
Amber kept her elbows planted on the counter-top, gaze locked on the mirror, and the man approaching.
Not like she needed to see his reflection to know Raylan Wild neared. The way chills raced from the back of her neck to her toes, prickling her sensitive skin and jabbing at her broken heart, was evidence enough.
“Hi, I’m Raylan.”
Amber saw his hand extend from the corner of her eye and ducked her head to take a sip of the now tasteless margarita, gathering her nerves and locking them in the steel-plated box she’d developed just for Raylan.
“I’m Saline,” her friend purred. “What a charming accent. Where are you from?” Saline extended her hand, and then nudged Amber with her four-inch heel.
Amber had tried to tell her friend that The Wharf wasn’t exactly cocktails and champagne—more like discount beer and bikers—but Saline never went anywhere at less than one hundred percent. Nails, hair, lipstick—everything coordinated and cutting edge.
Raylan’s gaze lingered for a second before finding Amber’s, somehow ignoring Saline’s perfectly polished allure. “Louisiana, ma’am.”
Raylan’s accent slid down her spine like a warm caress, and Amber’s eyelids slid shut. Lockbox or not, the man oozed a sensual charm even her hate couldn’t banish.
“Ooh, a Cajun. I just love New Orleans—is that where you live?” Saline’s voice dripped with southern charm.
“No, ma’am. Slidell, just outside New Orleans. I’m not fond of big cities.”
Or relationships.
“Too bad, that place is a blast. What brings you to Mercy?” Saline leaned in, and Amber could just picture her friend batting those extra-long lashes up at Raylan. Her “go to” move on a first meet. With Saline’s pixie-like size and features, men tended to puff up all protective around her.
Amber couldn’t resist glancing up, and Raylan’s obsidian gaze locked onto hers in the reflection.
“I’m looking for a dark-haired girl with emerald eyes.”
Amber froze. Her heart bottomed out in her stomach. Why was he here after all this time?
As carefully as she could manage, Amber took a sip of her drink and turned to face her past, a smile she prayed looked real plastered on her lips. Lips Raylan had declared were the sexiest thing God ever created.
That thought nearly knocked the smile off her face, but Amber held firm. She was six years older and a hell of a lot wiser than the naive young girl he’d seduced. “Well Raylan, I’d say it’s nice to see you, the front side that is. Last I recall was your tail running out of town in the middle of the night.”
And just like that, his charming, boy-next-door grin disappeared. His deeply tanned skin turned dark red.
“You know each other?” Saline’s sideways glance tried to get her attention, but Amber kept her gaze focused on the man who had made off with her heart.
“Yeah. About as intimately as you can get. He finally got me in bed, and then disappeared like a ghost.”
Saline gasped.
Her friend hadn’t moved to Mercy until a couple years after Raylan left, and Amber never told her the real reason she avoided relationships was due to a black-haired sex god.
“Dammit, Amber. When did you grow thorns?” Raylan’s jaw tightened.
“Right after you planted the seeds.”
“I tried to call you.” Raylan crossed his arms, pushing his biceps tight against the rolled-up sleeves of his white button-up.
“A few days after you disappeared. That was too late. You’d proved your point. Raylan Wild settles down for no woman.” Bitterness tinged her words, and finally, her hands trembled.
Amber whipped around to grab her margarita off the bar, needing the distraction to calm her nerves, and the alcohol to pour some ice on her scalding temper. Hopefully, Raylan wouldn’t see the steam blowing out of her ears.
He laid his hand on her arm, and she felt every callous, every groove, every soft spot on his palm. Awareness thundered through her. How could his touch still affect her, after all this time and all his neglect?
Amber spun, his hand fell to his side, and she told herself she didn’t feel the loss of his touch like she might the loss of a limb.
“Can we go somewhere private? I know I hurt your feelings, but—”
His sweet accent was a bolt of lightning striking her power box. She exploded. Amber hurled the contents of the extra large margarita-on-the-rocks straight in his face. “Hurt m
y feelings? You destroyed them. You screwed me, and then dumped me like yesterday’s trash. How dare you show up here now, wanting to talk!”
Every gaze in the room ping-ponged between her and Raylan, but she was so far beyond caring. “You can shove your words right back into that suitcase and march your butt back down to Louisiana for all I care.”
Raylan blinked, and his hands clenched at his sides. Pure fury lit his pupils.
The satisfaction from her long needed revenge rose, and then faded under the sting of hurt. Amber flipped her hair over her shoulder and stomped out of the bar, praying she made it to the street outside before the tears started to fall.
“Amber, wait up,” her friend called after her.
Amber kept walking, head high, and all but ran down the rickety wooden staircase. The Wharf had been built on twelve-foot stilts, half of the structure jutting over the Mississippi, over fifty years ago. The steps groaned and creaked under Amber’s feet, and she held onto the railing. Evie James and her family had taken over the bar a few years ago, done some of the necessary repairs, but old wood was old wood.
Saline’s high-heels clicked down the steps right behind her. “Slow down. You know I can’t run in high heels.”
The gravel crunched as Amber stepped off the stairs into the parking lot, unable to slow or stop for her friend. The fury and anger caused by Raylan’s sudden appearance showed no signs of fading. Even the mosquitoes didn’t dare bite her, probably afraid they’d be boiled by her blood.
She’d just dumped her last boyfriend, Tommy, a week ago. This was her first foray out into public, and Lord, she’d needed it after the constant midnight calls from Tommy, begging her for another chance. She’d finally put her foot down and told him to quit calling or she’d file a restraining order.
She’d had a few boyfriends over the years, but nothing serious. If she were honest with herself, no one could compare to the wild ride that was Raylan. Tonight had been about recharging her batteries and having fun. Girls night. Dancing. Drinking. Instead, karma dumped a big ball of crap in her lap.
Amber made it to the last row of cars before her frayed nerves unraveled. Her frustration needing an outlet, she kicked the nearest tire. Her heel bounced back and stabbed her ankle. Pain exploded across the injury and she lifted her foot to see a small drip of blood.
Saline caught up and yanked her to a stop. “What the hell was that?” Amber faced her, and in that split-second Saline’s anger disappeared. “Oh honey, are you okay?”
A fresh wave of tears ran down her face. “He’s the guy.”
“That one? The way you talked about him, I thought he was dead.”
“I only wished he was.” After he put her heart in a meat grinder.
Saline’s mouth twitched. “You should have seen his face after you stormed out. I swear it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. And just because I love you, I tossed mine at him, too.”
Amber gasped, “You didn’t!”
Saline’s bob-cut hair swayed as she nodded. “I always got my girl’s back—even when I don’t know why.”
“What did he do?”
“He reached past me, calm as you please, and pulled one of those tiny bar napkins off the counter and wiped his face. I didn’t stick around long enough to see what he’d do next.” Saline shrugged, her large blue eyes going wide.
A giggle squeezed out between her sobs. He had to have looked ridiculous. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“I know. That was a really good margarita.” Saline’s laughter joined hers.
“Hey, y’all left your purses hanging on the barstool.” Cherri, the main waitress at The Wharf, came rushing through the parking lot, her long red hair flowing out behind her.
Amber reached for her purse. “Thanks, I guess I left in a bit of a rush.”
Cherri passed her the purse and arched an eyebrow. “Girl, if you’d seen that man’s face, you’d know you were smart to leave fast. Never seen a man turn that dark red before in my life.”
Heat rose to Amber’s cheeks. She’d acted like an immature teenager in front of half of Mercy, Mississippi. How many of her clients had seen her performance? “Crap. I wonder how many cancellations I’ll get now.”
There was only one other hair salon in Mercy, and they were always looking to lure Amber’s client’s away. After that show, her clientele would no doubt go running.
“Seriously?” Saline flipped her hair. “I bet you get a ton of walkins. Those nosey old ladies are gonna want in on all the gossip.”
Amber groaned and covered her face with her hands. “That’s even worse. What am I going to tell everyone?”
Cherri waggled her eyebrows. “How about something really juicy? Like he left you for a man?”
Amber tried, she really did, but no matter how hard she focused, she couldn’t picture Raylan Wild with a man. All she could see was his naked chest as he’d slid over her body, the rippling chest muscles when he’d flexed his arms. I got it bad.
Not good. Not good at all.
“Why don’t we focus on our real problem?” Saline crossed her arms over her chest. “I just wasted a perfectly good margarita, and there’s no way I’ll be able to drag Amber back in that bar.”
“Can’t help you there. It’s illegal to serve alcohol outside the establishment.” Cherri hooked a thumb over her shoulder.
“I’ve still got a bottle of tequila left over from New Years. And a blender.” Amber didn’t normally drink, but today called for a giant dose of alcohol. Maybe a chick flick and a girl’s night to go with it.
“Dang, wish I didn’t have to work. You two get to have all the fun.” Cherri pouted, and then winked.
Her heavy eyeliner gave her an almost exotic look. She had a body men groaned over and women envied. Amber wasn’t ashamed to be one of them. Amber had been graced with a slim figure, and for that she was fortunate, but next to Cherri she looked like a stick.
“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun after work with your new boy toy.”
All three women turned in surprise at the deep masculine voice. Sheriff Bo Lawson, out of uniform, approached from between two vehicles. The blue button-up shirt molded to his body almost as well as those dark blue jeans. And if the look in Cherri’s gaze was any indication, her friend definitely noticed.
Heat practically crackled, and Cherri crossed her arms, pushing her boobs even higher in the low-cut top. “Riser Malone isn’t a boy. I can tell you that from personal experience.”
“You wouldn’t know a real man if he was standing right in front of you.” And if the deep tone in the sheriff’s voice was any indication, he was all man. As was the fact that he was at least a foot taller than any of the girls standing there, and his military-cut, blond hair was as sharp as his jaw line.
Cherri lifted her chin, and Amber glanced at Saline, the look shared between the two best friends one that clearly communicated one thought—it was time to retreat.
Amber opened her mouth to say goodbye, but before she could speak, Cherri said, “At least Riser isn’t afraid to take chances.”
The heavy humidity of Southern Mississippi was nothing compared to the thick tension between the two.
Amber jerked her head to the side, gesturing to Saline to book it to the car, but Saline’s lips pulled to the sides in a mischievous grin. She sidled up to the sheriff and placed her manicured hand on his arm. “I’m sure you know all about real men.”
Sheriff Lawson didn’t tear his steel-gray gaze from Cherri or even acknowledge that Saline touched him. “I know a man takes his time with a woman who’s worth it.”
“If she doesn’t turn gray first, waiting on him to make a move.” Cherri turned on her heel and stomped off.
At last, Bo seemed to realize Saline’s very obvious move to put his arm in contact with her body. “Ms. Latimer.” He gently extracted himself, gave Amber a nod and strode up to the bar with slow, confident steps.
Amber shook her head. “What was that all about?”
“Seriously. He didn’t even look at me. What kind of man doesn’t notice this.” Saline gestured to herself.
“Apparently, one very fine sheriff.”
“Whatever, it’s margarita time.” Saline grabbed Amber and dragged her the rest of the way to her car.
Amber hit unlock on the key fob and got in the driver’s side, the soft new leather seats hugging her like a friend. She hit the start button.
Saline got into the passenger seat and shut the door. “Did I tell you how glad I am that you finally got a new car?”
“Only about hundred times. Honestly, my baby wasn’t so bad.”
Saline snorted and buckled her seatbelt, “Sure that’s why you had to carry a car boost kit everywhere you went, and you had to tape the trunk shut. Nothing wrong with that, right?”
“She was pretty reliable.” Her grandmother had gifted her car to Amber when she’d turned sixteen. The old car lasted a solid ten years under Amber’s love and care, but the last time it had broken down, her mechanic declared God himself couldn’t bring it back.
Amber had dipped into her savings and splurged on a used, two-door sports car.
Saline snorted. “Yeah, my coke-bottle, two-inch thick glasses were reliable too, but you don’t see me wearing those around town do you?”
“Maybe you should consider it. I heard the dork look is in now.” If Amber hadn’t seen the pictures of Saline from her teenage years, she would never have believed the smooth, sleek sophisticated blonde had once been an underweight, pimply-faced girl with braces.
Saline shuddered. “I’ll consider the glasses when you consider jumping on Raylan Wild. And don’t think I’m going to let you get away without telling me that story. I’m just waiting ‘til I trap you at home.”
Two
They drove to Amber’s house and parked in the driveway. A string of old lampposts lit the sidewalk in front of her house and had been there before her parents were born. That’s one thing she loved about Mercy—its history. And she’d been lucky enough to buy a small plantation-style house, with big blooming hydrangea bushes all along the front porch.
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