Ravaged River: Men of Mercy, Book 6: A Military Romance Series Page 10

  But that was back when he still could be completed. Now he was a puzzle with missing pieces, its edges sliced out of alignment.

  She deserved better. She was better.

  Maybe he needed a change of scenery. Jared and Sparrow didn’t need him here with them. If nothing else, he could bunk at the command center, in one of the cots in the back. The place suited him better. Cold. Hard. Empty.

  What mattered most was for him to keep his shit together long enough to take out Mr. J and his minions. The thought of sleeper cells in Mercy left a bad taste in his mouth. At least he and Merc had downed some of them last night.

  Hoyt found a half-drank bottle of water and downed it in one gulp. The liquid splashed in his empty stomach and immediately rushed back to the surface. He was praying to the porcelain god a second later.

  “Dammit. Are you stupid?”

  Hoyt let his body work through another heave before answering his brother, who’d apparently let himself into Hoyt’s bedroom. “Yes.”

  He could practically feel Jared shaking his head behind him. “You’ll be off the team if anybody finds out, and they’ll plop your ass straight into the VA Hospital. Again. Colonel Grey has been watching you closer than the NSA. One trip up, and that’s it. You’re gone.”

  Anger sliced through him and he rose unsteadily to his feet. “Shut up.”

  “You can lie to everyone else. Hell, you’ve actually gotten pretty damn good at it. But you can’t lie to me. I’m your brother. I practically raised you. I know when you’re lying. And brother, you’ve been lying since the day you got home from Tennessee.” Jared advanced, his huge body dominating the bathroom.

  The familiar claws of panic dug into him. Chest tight, heart punching his sternum, no oxygen.

  Jared’s nostrils flared in recognition and Hoyt used that moment of silence to dart around his brother into the bedroom. Hoyt faced the corner where the full-length mirror used to be, hands fisted at his sides. Come on asshole, count to ten. Even the fucking dope heads in group therapy could do it. Hoyt was a highly trained special forces operative, capable of taking out a target at over fifteen hundred yards. He could get his racing heart under control.

  “You need to stay away from alcohol.” Jared said from behind him. “You keep doing this, you’re going to find yourself back on pills. Fast way to ruin your life.”

  “My life is already ruined!”

  “No, it’s not. But if you don’t change, it will be.”

  “You’ve seen the way people react to me. I can’t even go out in public without giving kids nightmares. What kind of life is that?”

  “People only look at you that way if you let them.” Jared’s quiet voice sliced through a nerve.

  “And what would you have me do? Go around glaring at every person in Marcy?” Hoyt said.

  “No. I’d have you walk down main street with your head held fucking high because that’s exactly what you deserve. Very few men can survive the kind of torture you did—and those who survive physically usually don’t recover mentally. Is that what you want to be just another statistic?”

  Hoyt could only look at him.

  “Me and you, we’ve already lived through hell. You came out smiling. Are you really going to let them win now? Are you going to let a few little cuts bleed you dry?”

  “If it’s just a few little cuts, why’d you take the mirrors down?” Hoyt gestured to the empty wall spaces in the room.

  Jared dropped his head and shoved his hands in his jeans. “Because you’re my little brother and I want to protect you, like I did when we were kids. I thought it would be easier on your recovery.”

  Hoyt’s throat clogged up.

  “It’s not. It reminds me every damn day of my weakness,” he choked out.

  His brother nodded. “You’re right. I’ll put them back.”

  “And you’ll stop looking at me like you’re waiting on me to crack?”

  “Yes, if you stop acting like you didn’t survive the attack.” Jared crossed to Hoyt and held out his hand. His brother never showed his emotions. He’d always locked it down and kept moving forward, but right now, burning pain lingered in his midnight gaze.

  Hoyt swallowed and grabbed Jared’s hand, and yanked him into a hug. His flesh tightened instantly, but he took a breath and worked through his shit for his brother. Just like Jared had always done for him.

  Jared pounded him on the back and stepped away, covering a cough with a fist over his mouth. “I guess I should tell you the other team arrived last night.”

  “Yeah, I saw them parked at headquarters last night when I got back.” Hoyt shoved his hands in his pockets, the tide of emotion had receded and left him feeling awkward, yet somewhat healed. He hadn’t really realized how much he’d been hurting his brother.

  “Want to head over there? Colonel Grey wants us to meet up with the new team and make plans. Plus, I think Ethan may have found a new lead on that guy you and Merc pegged last night.”

  “Malik?”

  “Yeah, he’s been digging and digging but the guys record is locked up tighter than a virgin’s knees. But, he confirmed the link between the uncle and ISA.”

  “Shit, he was with Hayden last night, they acted like they were friends.” Or more.

  “Looks like Al Seriq had recruited Malik’s uncle back in the eighties, before he started ISA. The guy turned radical fast. Took out a whole crowd of people at the local market with a suicide bomb.”

  That bastard had laid his hands on Hayden. He’d kissed the back of her hand. Bile rolled hot up his stomach. That would be the last time Malik got near her, Hoyt would make sure of it.

  “Let me change. Does Hunter know?” He needed to keep Hayden extra close.

  “Nah, Hunter’s been puking his guts up.”

  “He needs to make sure he keeps Hayden at home.” Hoyt went to his dresser and yanked out a change of clothes.

  “Why don’t you get dressed and we can go tell him right now?”

  Hoyt caught a movement out his bedroom window. Hank pulled down the drive, the camper hitched to the back of his truck. “I don’t need to tell Hunter, Hank’s home.”

  Hoyt yanked on a new shirt. Hayden’s father was the most overprotective man Hoyt knew. He’d keep her under lock and key.

  14

  Hayden stared at the burnt black cookies as smoke poured out of the open oven door. She’d gotten Hank Jr. down for a nap and immediately gone to cooking, needing something, anything, to distract her from the pain.

  The smoke alarm over head gave a quick blip and cut off, as if in warning and Hayden grabbed a nearby dish towel and started fanning the smoke away. It wasn’t a lot, but she didn’t want to risk waking every other James in the household.

  When she was fairly certain the alarm wouldn’t blast off, she eased over to the kitchen door and propped it open. Then she went to the oven, pulled the cookies out, put them on the stove top and shut the door.

  Using her last amount of energy, she sank into a chair at the glossy wood table and dropped her head into her hands. All she wanted to do was go home, curl up in her bed and have a cathartic long cry.

  A sob wrenched through her and she rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying to block out the news.

  Professor Latham was gone. Dead. Not coming back.

  She felt like she’d lost a family member, and she had precious few of them. After her junkie mother left her on the steps of the church at six years old, she’d bounced through the foster system. She’d been so hopeful at first, imagining that she’d be taken in by some miracle family with a mother who loved her children and an overprotective father to wipe her tears. A Beaver-Cleaver-type family.

  Instead she’d ping-ponged from a rat-infested dump to a two-bedroom house with ten kids. And the loneliness lining the walls of her chest spread until it encompassed her like metal-plated skin. Neglected and hardened into her own coat of armor.

  And then everything had changed. She’d been sent to live
with a foster father, Hank James, and he’d protected her and loved her and introduced her to her two brothers, Hunter and Ranger. In the end she had gotten her wish for an overprotective father. Times three.

  But Hank’s parents were long dead, and her blood relatives were a mystery to her. She had no freaking clue if her mom was even alive.

  Professor Latham had filled a void for her.

  A fresh wave of tears fell, the pain bending her forward over her arms. Her mother had left her. Hoyt had left her. And now Professor Latham had left her too.

  Who was next?

  “What happened?” Hoyt walked through the open door and she jumped, slamming back against her seat as her heart catapulted into her throat.

  She could see his expression of concern. The sunlight cast brilliant light on his cerulean blue eyes, bright with worry, and he looked at her like he really did care for her.

  But he didn’t.

  A fresh onslaught of tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision.

  “Christ.” Hoyt pulled her from the chair, wrapping her in his embrace. A rush of pure euphoria warmed her from the inside out, and weakling that she was, Hayden embraced the feeling, latching on to the relief it gave her from this heart-rending grief.

  “Professor Latham was killed last night. He was my…my…I was his research assistant.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” His rough voice sent a chill straight down her spine. Her reaction to his simple touch and deep husky voice was a million times stronger than anything Chance or Malik had made her feel. It urged her to forget the pain he’d caused her.

  But she couldn’t. If she did, it might just happen all over again, and she was certain that would destroy her.

  Hayden drew in a breath and used every ounce of strength in her depleted system to shove away from him. “Let go.”

  The sympathetic tilt to his mouth was enough to rip her sadness into shreds, letting anger rush to the surface. “Don’t you dare act like you care.”

  The stubborn man reached for her again, trying to pull her into another hug, and Hayden tapped into her inner strength and locked her arms into steel bands.

  “I’m sorry for…for…” He reached for her face, but she recognized what he was about to do. He was going to brush the hair off her cheek, and that was a gesture reserved for intimacy.

  “You don’t get to hug me anymore. Just like you don’t get to call late at night and ask me where I am.” She spat the words out like acid, but it gave her no joy when his features hardened into an impenetrable mask.

  His arms straightened at his sides, the hands balling into fists, and it emphasized the patchwork of scars covering his skin. Hayden had to tamp down the urge to grab his hand and smooth every single one of them.

  “Sorry,” he said. “You’re right. Just came by to talk with your dad, he’s on his way over right now.” Hoyt spun on his heel and headed straight to the living room, his black tactical pants snugged up to his perfect ass with every step.

  Hayden’s gaze slid back to her poor, burnt cookies. A part of her was tempted to throw them at his back, but even in the midst of her emotional storm, logic prevailed.

  She grabbed the tray and tossed the cookies out back. One of the stray dogs that wondered up in the yard would eat them up. Maybe.

  “I don’t think anything’s gonna eat those.” Jared stood off to the side, hands crossed over his wide chest. “I heard what you said to my brother, about the professor, I’m sorry. You okay?”

  Hayden nodded and then turned and walked back inside. She tried to focus on anything other than her instantaneous reaction to Hoyt’s touch or the fact that he’d snuggled up to her like his favorite pillow. It had felt so natural. So why had he given up on them?

  She couldn’t think about that now. A fresh sob welled and she barely caught it before it blasted through the house. She heard the truck pull up outside. She went to the front door and pulled it open, staring out as her dad and Maxine got out of the truck. Besides, she wanted to stay as far from Hoyt Crowe as possible. If he didn’t stop giving her concerned glances, she was going to punch him. Where had his concern been months ago?

  She’d been the one to find him all bloody, wrist slashed. The image haunted her. If anyone deserved concern it was him. But not from her. No matter how much her heart bled for him, he’d made it clear that he didn’t want her to worry for him.

  There was no telling what he’d been doing and Hunter and Ranger had refused to tell her. Whatever it was, he definitely hadn’t been wasting all of his time thinking about her.

  He glanced at her again and her ability to keep her mouth shut disappeared. “What are you looking at?”

  Hoyt flinched and Jared gave a bark of laughter. Hayden, feeling petulant and pissed, crossed her arms and glared at both of them.

  “Looks like the little kitten has claws.” Jared took a seat on the couch next to his brother.

  Hayden gave them her back and zeroed in on her dad. All she had to do was hold it together until he got inside. Ten seconds tops.

  “Hayden—” No one said her name quite like Hoyt did, but she couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t bear it. She stepped outside onto the front porch, effectively cutting off whatever line of bull crap Hoyt was about to spill.

  Her lip trembled as Hank got closer. She needed her dad to tell him to leave. Hank took the couple steps up onto the front porch, holding Maxine’s hand the whole time. They looked so happy. Almost radiant.

  Maxine held up her left hand, palm facing down. Sunlight glinted off the diamond on her finger. “Surprise!”

  Hayden started to shake.

  “Hayden, I’ve asked Maxine to marry me.” Her dad’s expression was excited and hopeful, and his staple outfit of a denim shirt and jeans was so achingly familiar. If circumstances were different, Hayden could hug both of them. Maybe even jump up and down a bit. They both deserved love. Maxi, who’d lost her husband in the line of fire, and Hank, who’d never been married. But only one thought ran through her head: I’m not his number one girl anymore.

  They were all leaving her. Moving on without her. Hayden stumbled back, her heart splitting down the middle. The sob building in her chest ripped out with razors attached.

  She turned to run and slammed straight into Hoyt. He steadied her, his hands like hot coals on her arms.

  “Hayden? It’s going to be okay.”

  She ripped free, her thoughts twisting and tangling around her. It wouldn’t be okay. Nothing was okay.

  15

  Hoyt stood in the living room, surrounded by rustic log walls and hard wood floors, helplessly watching Hayden fall apart and knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her.

  Hank’s ice blue gaze landed on Hoyt, his eyes narrowing with each second. “What did you do to her?”

  Hoyt flinched. His skin started to itch, the scars crawling over his body. Hank was right. He had no right to be here. Hank had been generous enough to let him and Jared live in one of his houses; the last thing he needed to do was mess around with his daughter.

  He needed to be outside. Needed air.

  But more than that, he needed to comfort her.

  Before he realized it, he’d taken a step in her direction.

  Hank cut him off, getting in his face and crowding his already nonexistent personal bubble. “What did you do to hurt my daughter this time?”

  Hurt her? Never. So why couldn’t he say that out loud?

  Because you did hurt her.

  “It’s not him. Her psychology professor was murdered last night. She’s upset about that.” Jared said from his perch in the middle of the couch. Hoyt cast him a grateful glance over his shoulder.

  Hank’s narrow gaze studied Jared for a minute. The tight lines around his mouth deepened as he took a step back. “Which one?”

  Hank held out a hand and Maxine’s heels clicked across the hardwood. She was all low cut shirts and too-tight jeans to Hank’s relaxed denim and boots. But somehow the pair fit.

  Hoy
t found his voice. “Professor Latham. Me and Merc found him last night. One in the head.”

  “Latham? He’s harmless, who’d want to hurt him?”

  Hoyt’s gaze slid to Hayden. She’d sat down in the big leather recliner in front of the wall of windows and wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “You two better tell me what the hell is going on.” Hank pulled Maxi tighter to his side.

  “Go on, sit down.” Hoyt held out an arm indicating they take a seat, careful to keep a good foot of distance between them.

  Maxi pursed her red lips and walked to the love seat separating the couch and recliner. Hank posted up by the door, arms crossed. Hoyt went back to his end of the couch.

  The room was similar to the rest of Hunter’s new log cabin. Lots of wood and dark earthy tones, almost like a man cave. Except for all the pictures of Hunter, Ranger, and Hayden hanging on the walls. His fireplace mantle proudly boasted a photo of Hunter and Evie on their wedding day, surrounded by their family. A smaller picture, off to the end, was of Hayden in a maroon cap and gown, a huge smile stretched across her lips as she held up her diploma.

  Hoyt stared hard at that smile, something about it drawing his attention. He’d seen her smile lots of times, though, so why couldn’t he tear his gaze away from that image?

  And then it hit him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her smile like that. Even last night, her laughter hadn’t transformed her whole face with joy.

  “Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Hank stalked into the center of the room.

  Hoyt forced himself to block out Hayden and concentrate on her father.

  “Hank, come sit by me. These boys look like they want to tell us something.” Maxi patted the cushion next to her, twisting her new ring around her finger. Hank wavered and then crossed to sit next to her.

  “Spit it out.”

  Hoyt turned to his brother, who just shrugged and kept his mouth shut.

  Really? Hoyt was already in hot shit with Hank.

  Still no response from Jared.

  Fuck. Hoyt leaned forward and braced his elbows on his legs, studying the intricate pattern of the tattoos starting at his lower biceps. He’d gotten the tattoos after leaving the VA. The ink was all black. He’d had to grit his teeth through the feeling of the needle piercing his flesh, but not because of pain. Because of the memories.