* * *
Evie jerked back, his words sucker-punching her in the chest. In the heart. This was the man she’d dreamed of for years, praying he would come back in one piece. The man who’d stomped on her heart harder than Marcus had stomped on her body. Now he stood right here in front of her. Not more than a foot away, wanting her.
A stray breeze from the fan blew her hair across her face and she brushed it back, her hand shaking. Evie tucked her hand in her back pocket before Hunter could see how much he affected her. The last thing she could afford to do was give him ammunition to use against her.
“I don’t believe that,” she said. “You left. Not me. And you expect me to think you thought about me once? Do I look stupid?” The shaking in her hands spread upward, past her shoulders, and took over her whole body.
Hunter’s dark brown eyes held hers, and she felt like he could see inside her. His hands cupped her shoulders and forced her to face him. “Not stupid. Scared. Just as scared as I am.”
Evie scoffed. “You? Scared? Haven’t you been off playing Rambo or something?”
Hunter laughed and Evie felt it all the way down to her toes. “Rambo? I’m a thirty-year-old combat veteran with a gunshot wound and what I suspect is the beginning of arthritis in my knees.”
As he said it, Hunter leaned forward and rubbed his thigh. She cringed. What if he was telling the truth? What if he had come home to reclaim her?
Did she still want him?
“Maybe you should sit down?”
“I’ve never let a few aches get in the way of my mission.”
The breath left her in a whoosh. From the look Hunter was giving her, it was clear she was his mission.
He closed the small gap between them and the scent of earth and raw male power flooded her senses. All she would need to do was lean forward a few inches to touch her lips to his. See if they were as soft as she remembered. As demanding.
Lust tied her stomach into a knot a Boy Scout leader couldn’t untangle. Hunter’s gaze dropped to her lips. This time when his lips touched hers it was tender. Gentle. Brief. And he was the one who pulled away. But not before his touch unleashed a torrential downpour in her body that left her drowning in desire.
* * *
“Am I interrupting?” Ranger said.
Hunter jerked back and pinned his brother with a deathly stare. The reaction wasn’t what he would have expected. Ranger leaned against the back door of the bar, arms crossed, his expression…worried. Awareness tugged at Hunter’s conscious. This wasn’t just some brotherly jest meant to disrupt Hunter’s chance to score with Evie.
On the heels of that thought came another: He had completely forgotten his goal in the space of a second.
Evie was glaring at Hunter, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wild.
He frowned. If she left in this state of mind, he would lose all the ground he’d gained. “Stay put,” he said to her.
“I need to talk to you,” Ranger said.
“Not right now. We’re trying to catch up on a few things,” Hunter said.
Evie pushed past him. “Actually, we weren’t catching up on anything. I need to get back to work.”
He grabbed her arm, pulled her to his side, “Stay. Please.”
She ignored him, squirming in his grasp. “You need to let me go. Now.”
“But I’m not through talking to you.”
“Sucks for you. I’m warning you one last time. If you don’t let go, you’re gonna regret it.”
Hunter ignored the threat. He had no intention of letting her go now. Not when he finally had a clear head again. Not while she was still breathing hard and thrown off balance. “Don’t do this.”
Ranger cleared his throat, but they both ignored him. Hunter knew he needed to establish control.
Evie’s mutinous expression slackened into annoyance, but he held her stare. Her stubborn streak had grown. She held out for another minute before dropping her gaze and nodding.
Hunter relaxed and focused on Ranger. The look on his brother’s face added new stress to the situation, but at least Evie wasn’t arguing with him anymore.
“Ranger, give me ten minutes. Tops. I wont be much…” Hunter broke off mid-sentence, sucking in a breath as sharp pain stabbed his shin.
“Jerk. You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not even my friend. I don’t know who you are, but you don’t control me!” Evie ducked and darted around him. Ranger stepped to the side, pulling the glass door to the bar open for her to run inside.
Hunter rubbed his shin, anger and annoyance mixing with amusement. “I’m going to tan her ass for that.”
“I don’t know, brother, I’m not sure she’d agree to that particular form of foreplay.”
Hunter had been so distracted he’d let a girl get the best of him. She’d fooled him with her innocent look.
Again.
Fury edged out any traces of amusement. This was the last time she’d catch him off guard. His jaw clenched and the throbbing in his ears commanded his attention more than his throbbing shin.
“You sure do know how to get under her skin.” Ranger must have sensed the dark direction of his thoughts.
“That’s not all I plan on getting under.”
Chapter 9
Ranger paced the gravel and grass lot underneath the bar, eyeing the chipped paint and cracks on the stilts holding The Wharf upright. His T-shirt was soaked from running through the rain, and water dripped from his hair into his face.
The rain poured down in a deafening roar, drowning out all other sound. The mosquitos wouldn't even brave this kind of weather.
Ranger loved to party and he loved being around pretty women. The women especially. But the perfume and cigarette smoke in the bar had turned his stomach three shades shy of soured milk. At first he’d been fine, dancing and flirting and relaxing with Mercy’s best. But thirty seconds into the second song, he’d caught sight of a baby-faced kid in dress blues standing by the door.
Maybe it was the navy-blue hat he clutched in his perfect white gloves. Maybe it was the fact that the greenhorn looked about ready to piss his pants.
The kid stood with his shoulders back, chin up, but he was still six inches shorter than everyone else around him.
Ranger dipped his dancing partner, placed a kiss on her lips, and deposited her back with her friends. He didn't give her time to protest. He turned and headed toward the exit. The soldier stood unmoving just a foot inside the door.
"You looking for someone?" Ranger said, getting his first look up close. God, the military was getting desperate.
"No, sir." He stammered, shifting his feet. "I mean, yes, sir. I am looking for Chief Hunter James. I went to his father's residence and was directed to this place."
Ranger's old man, Hank, had about as much patience with newbies as he did for weeds growing in his fields. Hank tended to take the more direct approach of scaring the ever-living crap out of impressionable young troops.
"Did you just graduate basic?" The light caught the kid’s brass name badge. Specialist Green. Perfect.
Green turned red and ducked his head. Yep. He couldn’t be more than a year out. "My brother is in here. What do you need him for?"
"I'm afraid I can't say, sir. I must speak with Chief James."
"If you want to find my brother you have to go through me, and he is currently occupied." With figuring out how to get in a certain blonde beauty’s good graces. She should come with her own warning label: explosive material—handle with caution.
Hunter acted casual, like this mission wasn't a big deal. But Ranger knew his brother. He felt his tension, saw the anger barely banked behind his eyes. Hunter had loved one woman in his entire life. One. And now he had to get up close and personal with her. Use her.
Sure he’d dated other women, but he’d never gotten close again. He said he didn't care, that this was a cake mission, but Ranger knew without a doubt his brother was in for a bigger challenge than any they’d faced on their covert ops
.
"Sir?"
Goddamn, was he expected to blindly babysit the kid until his brother was free to talk? The urge to grab the specialist and shake the information out of him pounded in his blood. He acted on the impulse and pulled Green toward him by the lapels. "Why the fuck are you here? Is it because of Shane?"
Even the name tasted bitter on his tongue. Shane Carter. His best friend. The one guy who’d always stuck his neck out for Ranger, who'd always had his back. And Ranger had left him behind.
Green's legs did a little kick, his feet a few inches off the ground, and his hands grabbed at Ranger's wrists. "Please, sir, let me down."
Ranger had been through enough SERE training to read body language. To know what wasn't being said. He pulled Green closer, their faces close enough for their breaths to blend. "Tell me."
"It's regarding Staff Sergeant Carter."
The oxygen disappeared. Ranger's vision tunneled and his body went rigid, his muscles locking down on his organs.
Shane. Suddenly the dress blues made sense. He flung Green away, the need to dig into the specialist turning into the need to escape. He didn't want to hear the news.
"Meet us outside in five minutes, got it?" Ranger didn't wait to see if the boy followed orders. He turned instead to find Hunter. He got one step and collided with his brother. “You need to follow me. Now.”
Ranger and Hunter headed out the front door and down the stairs together. Specialist Green paced the gravel and grass underneath the Wharf, obviously nervous.
Now here they were, waiting to hear whatever news the kid had, and Ranger was the one who couldn’t hold still. And he wouldn't be able to until he knew about his best friend. If he was alive. If he was being held for ransom. If he was dead.
"We've got some privacy. Spit it out." Ranger eyed Green with venom.
"Captain James, Captain Grey sent me as soon as we received the package," Green said. The boy was stubborn, refusing to cower under Ranger's glare. Any other time he would have given Green props for his nerve. Not tonight.
Hunter stood still. No expression. No response. A fucking statue. He might as well have been waiting on the latest weather report.
Ranger's nerves grew thin, ready to snap like a worn rubber bands. He stalked toward Green, ready to do what needed to be done to wrangle the information from their reluctant messenger. Ranger knew it wasn't the boy's fault, but he couldn’t help it. It felt like Green had thrown an RPG of information and Ranger was waiting for it to explode.
"What package?" Hunter said, his voice cutting into the killing rage eating away at Ranger's sanity.
"Tell us what the hell is going on with Shane." Ranger crossed his arms and stood tall, looking down at Specialist Green. The boy was just that. A boy. No facial hair, no muscle tone, no height. Even his voice was weak.
The specialist stuttered and turned his hat in circles. When he spoke next, his voice dropped in volume. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, sir, but command received a package containing Sergeant Carter’s remains three days ago. DNA confirmed it was him yesterday."
Ranger had braced himself for the news, but the words cut into him with razor precision. His ears started to roar, drowning out the rain. The thunder. His heartbeat pounded like small explosions in his head.
His fault. It was all his fault. Ranger turned to Hunter, his gaze helpless. Hunter held up a hand. "DNA? If we received his remains, why did you need DNA to confirm?"
"Ah... We received some of him. Not enough for a positive visual ID." Green's voice sounded weak and wobbly now. He pulled at his collar and stepped back, the rain keeping him caged, but he kept to the perimeter.
"You haven't been to Shane's wife's house yet, have you?" The realization dawned fast and hard, knocking the wind from his chest. Green was here to collect Hunter and deliver the news to Amy Carter.
Ranger threw his head back, neck muscles taut and straining, the blood whooshing through his body so thick he thought he would explode.
He couldn’t let Green tell Amy. She would need someone strong to tell her. To be there for her. To hold her.
Ranger raked a hand through his hair, sending a fresh slew of water down his face and neck. The image of Shane falling replayed over and over in his mind. And he was standing there thinking about holding his best friend's wife. What kind of sick pervert was he?
Green cleared his throat. "We also received a video of his execution. The CIA has confirmed its authenticity. They are trying to keep it quiet, but the media will know within the week."
"What?" Hunter said, his voice loud enough to drown out Ranger's bellow of pain. "When can you get me in the air? We're going to kill Al Seriq and every man aligned with him."
"Hunter, call the commander. I can be ready to go in an hour." Ranger needed this, needed to avenge Shane.
"Captain, I need you to come with me before you do anything," Green said.
Hunter and Ranger froze. Amy. Amy needed to be told.
"So you want me to tell his wife, my friend, that her husband is dead?" Hunter moved toward Green, his dark brows rising in two angry arches.
"Fuck, no. He needs a sidekick for this mission. He's too much of a coward to do it himself." Ranger knew his words were harsh, but he was spiraling out of control, so he simply didn’t care.
Ranger looked up, the sounds of bass and laughter seeping down to them through the wood planks above them. He had no intention of letting either one of them tell Amy, but then, his brother probably knew that.
"Look, Green, we all need a drink," Hunter said. "It's late. I know Amy Carter, and she will have been asleep for a couple of hours now. Why don't you wait until tomorrow morning? Ranger can meet you at your hotel and drive y’all out to their ranch?"
Green swallowed, sweat dripping down his temples. "You don't think she would want to know now?"
"You want to take away her last night of peace? She won't sleep for the next six months. Why break her heart in the middle of the night?" Ranger prayed the kid bought his logic.
Hunter moved to his side. "I agree. It's better to deliver bad news in the light of day, give her a chance to call her family so she won't have to be alone."
Green nodded. "Of course, sir."
Ranger's gaze cut to his brother, the silent message clear.
"Green, how about I buy you a drink?" Hunter hooked an arm around Green's shoulder and dragged him toward the steps leading up to the bar. Green shot a glance at Ranger before doing what any person with half a molecule still firing would do—following Hunter up the stairs before Ranger lost his shit.
Ranger waited until they disappeared inside and took off at a dead run for his truck, barely giving the engine time to roll over before he threw her into drive and squalled out of the parking lot.
Ten minutes later he turned off the highway and drove down a driveway lined with Bradford pears. All of them were well tended and trimmed to match, the grass mowed short but thick. Ranger slowed when her porch light came into view. Amy always kept it on when Shane was gone.
Ranger squeezed the steering wheel so tight it should have bent off the frame. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he cranked up the AC to full blast. Now that he was here he didn't know if he could do it. Give her the news. Break her heart.
He parked and cut the lights. He put his forehead on the steering wheel and took deep breaths, building up the strength to open his truck door. Dammit, why Shane? Why couldn't it have been someone else?
Maybe he should just drive away and let Green be the Grim Reaper. She might never forgive him for being the bearer of such news. No. He sat up straight and focused. It was his duty. His.
He couldn't put off telling her any longer. Ranger walked slowly to her front door, the effort to climb her three front porch steps as taxing as mounting Everest.
He knocked. Waited. Realized how wet his shirt was and wrung some of the water out.
Amy opened her front door, a dark robe wrapped tightly around her waist. She folded her arms over
her front, snagging some of her long auburn hair with her elbow.
Her gaze held him; he couldn't rip away from her eyes’ dark brown depths. Her lips had always been a little too big, but they were perfect to him, and right now they offered a hesitant smile.
She pulled the door open. "Ranger?" She reached forward and brushed his cheek with her thumb. When she realized he was crying, her eyes turned wary. "Shane?"
He tried to speak. But the words wouldn't go past the huge knot in his throat. His lungs burned.
"Ranger, you're scaring me. Talk to me." She cupped his face with both hands, pulling him closer as if she hoped to read his mind through proximity.
Ranger felt himself falling. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her into his arms, filling himself with her scent.
The ice block in his chest started to melt and he trembled. He tried to call that cold hard steel back, but he couldn't. The tears fell faster and he sucked in a breath.
Amy grabbed him and shook, as if she could pull him from his stupor. "Ranger, dammit, what's wrong? Where is Shane?" Her words tumbled out, catching on her husband’s name. Tears formed in her eyes, turning them almost gold.
Ranger pulled her tight, crushing her soft body to his, and buried his face in her hair. "Amy."
"Talk to me." She pulled back, made him loosen his grip enough for her to look at him again.
He wanted to trade places with Shane. At that moment, he would gladly die if it would bring his best friend back and saved Amy this grief. She was too young to be a widow. And he was too young to bury a best friend.
"Shane..." His mouth wasn't working. His tongue was thick and slow, his lips sluggish.
Amy shook her head. Her lips formed a 'no,' but she didn't make a sound. Ranger ignored the pain from her nails digging into his shoulders. "No. It's not true." There was that fire, that spark that lit her from the inside. Amy was a fighter.
Men of Mercy: The Complete Story Page 8
