Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  The truth of his words smashed through her like a wrecking ball. She’d survived Shane’s supposed death. She wouldn’t survive Rangers.

  Amy stepped out of the shadow of her house. Shane stood at her back door, waiting patiently for her to come to him. His satisfied smile nearly made her turn and run, but she kept going until she stood right in front of him.

  “I knew that would do the trick. The way you two looked at each other this morning was sickening.”

  “I love him.” Amy lifted her chin. She was dead anyway.

  His slap didn’t surprise her this time. She touched the corner of her mouth where a fresh trickle of blood started and stood proudly before him. He could hurt her all he wanted, but Ranger would protect Chloe. And in the end, Shane would die.

  “You’re going to die.” Amy smiled, knowing she was half-crazy for taunting him.

  Shane grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “No, wife. Not me.”

  Shane dragged her into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair. She watched him, no longer as scared as before. She was willing to die if it meant saving her family. He stopped and started every few seconds, as if his brain was shorting out and restarting.

  Without a word, he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. She didn’t try to fight this time. She followed, stooped over and holding her ribs, through her living room and down the hall. He stopped before Chloe’s door.

  “I was here that night. You were locked in there weren’t you?”

  His statement rocked her. “You? That was you that broke into the house?”

  “I didn’t have a key anymore.” Shane answered as if that should explain why he battered down her kitchen door.

  “Are you kidding me? You scared me to death. Why didn’t you just knock? Or come home like a normal person - in the light of day?”

  “I didn’t know that you were home that night.” He shrugged, like oh-freaking-well, and turned to open the nursery door.

  “Why would you break into my house anyway?” She dodged his heels, sick and tired of his blithe responses.

  Shane was on her in a flash, reminding her why she should learn to keep her mouth shut. “My house. Remember that.”

  Amy nodded, she couldn’t talk. His hand squeezed her throat, strangling any attempt at speech. He held her like that, suspended on her toes. After a few seconds, Amy’s bravado deserted her and she clawed at his hands. Tearing his skin beneath her nails.

  He gave her a look that would make a grown man pale.

  Shane used his hold to maneuver her around him, until she was in the center of the room. He forced her to her knees on Chloe’s white faux fur rug, right beneath the tiny white chandelier she’d had installed after Chloe’s birth.

  Shane brought a picture from her hutch cabinet and held it in Amy’s face. “Is this Chloe? Is she my daughter?”

  Amy clawed frantically at Shane’s hands. She went along willingly enough, but if he didn’t let go soon, she’d lose consciousness. She tried to get a sound out, but nothing would make it past his grip.

  Shane’s face turned red, his green eyes glowing with insanity. When she was on the edge of passing out, he let go. Amy fell to her hands, choking and coughing, her throat a raw mass of burning fire. The picture he’d held was of Amy holding Chloe in the hospital, a few hours after her birth.

  She remembered that day like it was yesterday. The torture of child birth and the sweet, sweet baby that followed. Amy had denied the epidural, thinking she should suffer through the pain as punishment for sending her husband off to war with a fight. Punishment, because, deep down she felt responsible for his death.

  Not anymore.

  “Screw you.”

  Amy braced for the next slap, ready this time, but he held back. Instead, he paced the room, doing that short-circuit thing again. Then he started talking, only it wasn’t in English. Amy paled when she realized where she’d heard that before. On TV. The news show airing Shane’s murder. The men standing behind him, with black hoods covering their faces. They’d been speaking in Arabic.

  A new kind of terror traced down her spine.

  “Shane…”

  He roared, “Not Shane!”

  Amy cringed back. “I’m sorry. I-forgot. Abdullah, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  What now? What to do? Could she calm him? “When you left, I tried to contact you.”

  Shane’s nostrils flared. He clutched the picture in his hand. The glass crinkled and cracked and he didn’t notice. “Um, your hand.” Amy pointed as blood dripped down onto the pure white carpet.

  Shane followed her finger, staring at his hand as if he didn’t recognize it. Amy approached, on her knees, and gently extracted the photo, laying it to the side. “You’re bleeding. I should clean your wound.”

  Please, please she wanted out of this room.

  “I have a child?”

  Amy stared at him. His voice had been almost reverent. The wild look dissipating. Was her husband returning? “Yes.”

  Shane fell to his knees before her. “I didn’t know.”

  “I tried to call, but you’d gone black. I had no way to tell you. I kept waiting on you to contact me.” Could she coax him back to normal? Make him realize he’d been brainwashed by the enemy?

  “We fought.” Shane spoke slowly, like an amnesiac starting to recall his past.

  “Yes. We fought. You left on deployment. I found out I was pregnant soon after.” A little lie. She’d known before, but had withheld the info after their argument. She didn’t want to tell him her joyous news in such a bad situation. A fact she’d regretted-until now.

  “The team. Al Seriq. The compound. We went in after Mr. J.” Shane stared past her shoulder.

  “Who is Mr. J?”

  “He was dead. Or I thought he was dead. I was shot, taken hostage. They left me behind.”

  “What are you saying, honey?” Amy kept her voice soothing and calm, fearing any sudden sound or movement might set off the bomb that was Shane Abdullah Carter, and she might not be able to diffuse him again.

  “Al Seriq. We went after him. To capture him for the government. But I didn’t make it out.”

  “Where were you? Did he take you?” She had to know what happened to him. What had kept him from his family so long, and why he’d come back with a new identity.

  “He did. He nursed me back to health. He showed me the true way. The path to Allah.”

  “Allah? Shane-”

  He grabbed her throat so fast she couldn’t finish the sentence. “Abdullah.”

  Amy gave a hysterical nod and he let go. “I’m sorry. Abdullah. You have to understand, I have always known you as your previous name.”

  “Not allowed to say that word. He’ll punish me.” Shane’s words became distant, almost childlike, and Amy realized this Al Seriq had done a number on her husband’s mind.

  “I’m sorry I interrupted you. If Al Seriq nursed you back to health, what happened to your hand?”

  “He needed it.” His sentences were becoming shorter now, and she had the feeling she was losing him.

  “For what?”

  “For our true purpose. To destroy the infidel.”

  Amy let go of his bleeding hand and fell back on the rug. “Infidel?”

  Only terrorists spoke that way.

  Shane kept staring at the same spot on the wall behind her.

  Amy started to crawl backwards, restricting her movements so she didn’t alert him. Shane had gone somewhere else. Somewhere she never, ever, wanted to visit.

  A phone trilled from his pocket, the shrill sound making them both jerk. Amy’s bottom hit the floor and her heart bounced up in her chest. Shane answered immediately, but his face was pale and his expression shaken. “As-salam alaykom.”

  Amy inched back another degree. She had to get the hell out of here. She might have reasoned with Shane Carter. Abdullah what-the-hell-ever was another matter entirely. He had no connection to her. No marriage. No memor
ies. No life.

  And if Amy stayed, she’d have none either.

  “Ana faahim. I understand.” Shane wasn’t staring at the wall anymore, but he wasn’t looking at her either. Whoever was on the phone had his full attention.

  She kept inching back, denying the urge to scramble to her feet and run. She was willing to sacrifice her life, but not willing to be kidnapped and taken to Afghanistan. The thought sent her heart skittering. Women over there had no rights. They weren’t allowed to even show their face. Completely at her husband’s mercy. Never to see Chloe again.

  Not her. No way. Amy turned onto her knees and jumped to her feet. Shane’s hand wrapped around her ankle and she hit the ground. Her ribcage screamed in protest, paralyzing her with pain. Shane rolled her onto her back. “Such a liar.”

  Amy cringed away, but he pinned her down.

  “Where is my box? I know you didn’t leave it to rot in some storage unit.” Shane pulled a knife from his pocket with is bleeding hand and held it at her cheek. “It’s time you started telling the truth.”

  Amy swallowed. What was it with his box? He had something in there, something she must have missed. Could it have been some kind of secret code on the letters? Would he kill her when she told him the truth? “I-I really don’t have your box anymore. I threw it away when I found out about Hayden.”

  “You threw it away? Everything?” His scream made her ears ring and she turned her head to try and avoid the spit flying from his lips. Amy felt the first sting of the knife pressing into her flesh.

  “No. Not everything.” He stopped, but a trickle of blood dripped down her cheek and into her hair.

  “What then?” He pressed deep again and the blade slid across her flesh.

  “T-t-the pictures. I kept the pictures.” She longed to close her eyes and block out the man on top of her. Block out the knife slicing into her cheek. The hot blood trailing to the carpet.

  Shane expelled a breath and lifted the knife. “Good girl. Take me to them.”

  Amy nodded. She couldn’t talk. Nothing. She was too scared to move.

  “I said to take me to them.” Shane’s roar snapped her out of her paralyzed state.

  “Okay. Okay.”

  Shane yanked her to her feet and propelled her in front of him. Amy stumbled but caught herself. She needed to find out what he was up to. If he was working for a terrorist, then he had malicious intent. What if he’d been turned into a suicide bomber? He wouldn’t just kill her, he’d kill everyone around him. Including her family.

  She had to stop him. But her ribs hurt so bad she couldn’t see straight. What to do?

  No solution came before she reached the bedroom. Maybe she could distract him with the pictures and grab her gun. She’d never shot anyone before.

  “Under the bed. I put them away to give to your daughter when she was grown.”

  Shane seemed not to hear her. “Pull them out.”

  She clutched her side. “I can’t. I think you broke my ribs.”

  “Stupid woman.” Shane shoved her to the side and she sucked in a breath at the wrenching agony. Shane fell to his knees and pulled the clear tub containing the picture frames from beneath the bed. He picked up the tub, sat it on the mattress and lifted the lid. Inside lay the heavy black frames, carefully wrapped in cloth to protect them from getting scratched.

  Shane unfolded the cloth on one of them and then slammed the butt of his knife down, cracking the first frame.

  What the hell?

  Amy watched as he flipped shards away with the tip of his knife. Light glinted off what was beneath, and when she saw what was hidden inside, she gasped.

  “I will let you live because of this.” Shane seemed as mesmerized as she.

  “Where did you get that?” The pain forgotten momentarily, she eased forward for a better look. Gold inlaid with a multitude of gems glittered in the light. Red rubies. Emeralds. Diamonds. Others she didn’t have a name for.

  “A foolish villager who thought to hide them from me.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  Shane sneered, “What do you think?”

  Amy paled. “You killed him.”

  “And his family.” The way he said it, like it was just another day, like he hadn’t destroyed innocent lives for his own gain.

  “Murderer.” Amy whispered the word, recoiling from the very thought.

  Shane got in her face, not one single drop of regret lining his eyes. “They sacrificed themselves in the name of Allah. They have been well rewarded.”

  She took a step back. There was no coming back from that kind of crazy. Or escaping it.

  Chapter 38

  “Did that look like Amy in the passenger seat?” Ranger bore holes in the back window of her pickup. Ranger and Hunter had pulled down her road, lights off, intending to approach her house on foot, only to have them leave before the two men could get out.

  “Yep.” Hunter cranked the truck and put it in drive, lights off.

  “Copy that, team two?” Ranger spoke in the comm at his throat.

  “Roger. We’re on your tail.” Aaron, Riser and Merc followed in a jeep. Ranger glanced in his rearview, but couldn’t see them. Both teams were operating dark tonight. No lights. No signals. Nothing that would alert their former team member to their presence.

  “Where are they going?” Hunter kept a steady foot on the gas, maintaining enough distance not to spot them, but close enough to follow.

  “Hell if I know, but I’m sure it’s not good.” Ranger answered.

  “Do you think he knows about Chloe and is headed to the house?” Hunter leaned forward on the wheel and Ranger felt the truck accelerate.

  “He’s headed the wrong direction if that’s the case.” Amy and Shane turned right off her gravel road and onto Highway sixty-five.

  “Could you see her? Did she look okay?”

  “Shit, I couldn’t tell if she was injured though.”

  “Are you sure it was her?” Hunter said.

  As sure as the bugs splattering their windshield. “Yes.”

  He didn’t get a good look at the second person in the truck, but he felt her. Knew it was her without a doubt.

  Hunter didn’t respond, he focused forward and tailed her old Dodge. The truck had to be pushing eighty, which was asking a lot from the rust bucket.

  “Sure are in a hurry.”

  “Yep.” Hunter increased speed, keeping close.

  The truck hung a hard right onto Cypress Bend road. The only thing down that way was Coldwater Paper Mill and the levee.

  “Where the heck are they headed?” Hunter said.

  “I have no idea. Night shift is on at the mill. Shane didn’t hang out with anyone there. No one lives on this end of the levee anymore, not since the flood last year.” The flood that had nearly taken both Hunter and Evie’s lives.

  Which left absolutely nothing for them to do. So why did they turn off down the back road beside the paper mill? Hunter followed at a more distant pace. The truck hung a right and headed up the levee, and then their lights disappeared.

  “Go faster. We’re losing them.” Ranger hit the dashboard, wanting the truck to go faster.

  “Team two, we lost sight of the target. In pursuit.” Hunter floored it, the truck careened down into a cattle gap then bounced back up, throwing Ranger into the roof before settling down.

  “I said faster, not kill us.” Ranger grabbed the oh-shit handle above his head and braced for the sharp curve up and to the right onto the levee.

  “Hold on.” Hunter spun the wheel, gravel flew and they slid sideways for a second before the truck righted itself.

  Aaron’s voice came through the comm. “Holy shit boss, you trying to kill us back here?”

  “Mind the cattle gap, boys,” Hunter answered blithely and then spun up onto the top of the levee. The long winding road built on top of the nearly forty-foot-tall hill bordering the Mississippi River had been the only obstacle stopping the flood last year from wiping M
ercy off the map.

  “All due respect, sir, but fuck you.”

  Ranger couldn’t help the grin. Folks not from the south didn’t understand its precious beauty or its deadly deterrents.

  “Where did they go? Do you see headlights?” Ranger scrutinized their surroundings. The paper mill lit up the sky behind them, its huge column of steam rising steadily into the clouds. Nothing but flat fields lay beyond that to the right. Huge oak and pine trees lined the right side of the levee, and beyond that was the river.

  “There, down there.” Hunter cut left and dropped into thin air.

  “Holy crap, what are you doing?”

  “Getting your girl.” The truck hit the road halfway down the levee, bounced forward and then back, slinging Ranger’s head into the headrest.

  They didn’t slow down. Hunter increased speed down the gravel road, disappearing into the woods. The road quickly turned into a dirt road littered with potholes and mud puddles. Any other time Ranger would cuss out his brother for driving like this, but not tonight. Not when Amy’s life was on the line.

  “Straight ahead. He’s there.” Ranger’s heart accelerated with the truck.

  “He’s stopping at the sandbar turn off.” Hunter slowed and then stopped a few hundred yards away.

  “Hold back, they stopped at the river.” Ranger spoke into the comm.

  “Roger.”

  Ranger pulled out his night vision binoculars. Shane exited the truck up ahead first and rounded to pull the passenger door open. When Amy stumbled out, Ranger’s heart stopped. She was alive and okay. For now.

  Shane held her with one hand and then reached into the truck and pulled a bag out with the other.

  “What’s he got?” Hunter asked.

  “I don’t know, but let’s find out.” Ranger opened his door and exited the vehicle, damning himself again for not bringing night vision goggles. The binoculars were great for staking out someone, but not suited for travel. They would have to walk in the dark.

  “We’re on foot. Follow the road past our truck and flank left at the ramp. Set up a nest and see if you can get a visual.”

  “Roger,” Riser answered through the comm.

  Hunter slid his rifle over his back and pulled his pistol from its holster. Ranger did the same. “Ready?”