Ravaged River: Men of Mercy, Book 6: A Military Romance Series Read online

  But he’d faced that fear every day, just like he would face Hank right now. “The terrorist cell we’ve been tracking knows our identities. Which means he knows your identity. And if he hurts our families, he’ll hurt us.”

  “Mother of God.” Maxine collapsed back on the couch, her teased up dark brown hair smooshing against the cushion.

  “How? Your files are all sealed.” Hank’s face paled and the lines around his mouth spread to his eyes.

  “He didn’t need our files. He hired the man who created them in the first place.”

  Hank joined Maxi against the back of the couch, both of them looking shell-shocked. The same way TF-S had looked when Col. Grey had shared the news with them yesterday.

  “So you’re telling me some terrorist from overseas is coming here to hunt us down?” Hank threaded his fingers through Maxine’s and glanced over at Hayden, who still hadn’t looked up.

  “No. They’re already here. We had a little run in with some of them last night.”

  “That why you got that big gash on your temple?” Hank asked.

  “Yeah. We played chicken with a light pole. The light pole won,” Hoyt said.

  “And what’s this got to do with Latham?” Hayden spoke up for the first time, her shell-shock fading into cold determination.

  Hoyt stood and paced over to the fireplace. “We took out two terrorists last night. One of them had a student visa on him. It was signed by John Latham. When we went to question the professor about it, he was already dead.”

  “What about the other one?” Hank asked.

  Hoyt watched Hayden as he spoke. “Latham sponsored him also. We found evidence of his ties to the terrorists last night in Latham’s house.”

  “No. That’s not right.” Hayden shot to her feet. “Latham would never do that. I can’t listen to this right now.”

  “You were with the other suspect last night.” Hoyt tried to bite back the bitterness and failed. Every time he thought about him touching her…

  Hank shot to his feet, his face turning a deep red. “What?”

  “Who?” If possible, Hayden paled even more.

  “Malik.”

  Hank stepped between the two and held out his hands. “Are you telling me my daughter was with a possible killer last night?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you question him?”

  Because if I got close to him last night, I would have beaten the hell out of him. “He left before we got the chance to talk to him.”

  Maxi seemed to pull herself together and sat up straighter. “What do you mean? Don’t you have some fancy military satellite to track terror suspects? Or a tracking device or something?”

  “What do you need us to do?” Hank lowered back down next to Maxi and took her hand again. His gaze was hard, but why wouldn’t it be?

  Jared finally decided to open his mouth. “We’re bringing in a second team. They should be here at 1600. We need to establish a perimeter around the property. We’ll be safer if everyone can remain here, where they can guard you while we identify and track down the remaining sleeper cells.”

  “Would you listen, I’m telling you you’re wrong about Latham,” Hayden tried to butt in.

  “I can show them the weakest points vulnerable to breach. I know my property better than anyone. I’ve got barb wire fencing around the entire hundred acres, but I haven’t checked all of it in a while. We may need to repair some sections.”

  “Good. We also brought some new equipment in to help out. Thermal cameras. Motion detectors.”

  “I can’t stay here all the time,” Maxi said. “I have a bar to run. And what about C.W.? Do I have to get him to come here?”

  “I’ll escort you to work,” Hank said. “Been a few years since I’ve had to pull guard duty, but I can still shoot straight. And yes, C.W. should come stay with us until this is all over.” Hank tugged Maxi close, stroking her arm with his hand. The tough-as-nails woman seemed to melt under his touch.

  Hoyt tensed. They didn’t understand the seriousness of the threat. “And how are you going to know who to shoot at?”

  “Anybody who poses a threat.”

  “Sleeper cells don’t pose threats until it’s too late,” Hoyt countered. Yes, Hank James was a war veteran himself, but from a different time and a different era. Terrorists didn’t care about the rules of war. They didn’t care about harming innocents. They didn’t care about anything.

  Except causing the most carnage possible.

  “Your fancy term sleeper cell isn’t anything new. Hate to break it to you, boy, but I was fighting sneaky bastards when you were still in diapers. So why don’t you sit back and let me do what I know how to do?”

  The damn man was going to get himself killed—and Maxine. Leaving Hayden orphaned, again. He couldn’t let that happen.

  His palms went wet with sweat and he wiped them down his jeans. “What about Hayden?”

  Hank paused, but it was obvious he was not going to relent. If anything, he seemed more confident than ever. “She won’t be alone. You will be with her.”

  Hoyt’s heart skittered. “Me?”

  Hank leaned back on the couch, relaxed. “Who else?”

  “I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near your daughter.”

  “Hello, you two can’t tell me what to do. And I am sure as hell not staying with him.” Hayden pointed at Hoyt.

  “Yes, young lady, you are. I know you don’t want to be near him, but he can protect you, and right now I’m more concerned with your life than your feelings.”

  “She’s right. Why the hell would you want me guarding her?”

  Hank was on his feet in an instant, crowding into Hoyt’s personal space again. “Because I know you’ll get yourself killed before you let anything happen to my daughter.”

  Hoyt shook his head and took a step back. His shoulder hit the mantle, and when he spun around, he was faced with that picture of Hayden. Hayden before Hoyt. When she was still light-hearted and carefree. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know exactly what I’m talking about. I know that if my daughter is in danger, you’ll be the man to protect her.”

  Hank could order his sons around all he wanted, but not Hoyt Crowe. “You’ll have to find someone else for the job.”

  “And just who else would you trust around Hayden twenty-four hours a day?”

  The thought of another guy being alone with Hayden. and being around her constantly sent rage, white-hot and instantaneous, scorching across Hoyt’s shoulders.“No one.”

  “Good. I’ll clean up the spare bedroom for you.”

  16

  Hayden stumbled out of bed, grabbed her alarm clock and stared at the blinking green light with puffy, swollen eyes. Three p.m. Holy crap. She’d napped the whole day.

  The last she remembered, the Mississippi sun had painted her fluffy white bedspread and the entire box of extra-soft Kleenexes that were scrunched up on it a bright orange. The fresh sting of tears pricked her eyes.

  No. Do not think about the professor. She had to get herself under some semblance of control and go apologize to her dad and Maxine. Her behavior earlier had been reprehensible. She was happy for her dad and the look of hurt on Hank’s face was seared into her memory.

  Followed immediately by the last time she’d seen the professor. He’d hugged her and she’d imprinted his smell of old spice.

  Stop. Stop. Stop.

  Hayden flung the empty Kleenex box into the small flower-painted waste basket by her bed and marched to the antique matching white dresser against the opposite wall. She pulled out a pair of yoga pants and a matching loose tank and slipped into the bathroom.

  A little while later, she emerged from an extra-hot shower. She compiled a to-do list in her head as she combed out her hair in front of the mirror.

  Apologize to Hank and Maxi.

  Track down Malik.

  Find out whe
re and when the professor was going to be buried.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  Hayden gave the comb a ruthless tug, ripping through a tangle. Pain pierced her scalp and she hissed in a breath.

  She had to slow down. Take a deep breath. Remember what she’d learned in clinicals.

  Hayden carefully returned the comb to the top drawer on the left of her sink and picked up her make-up brush. Slow and easy, she counted each move, focusing on each minute task.

  Apply her base. Then powder. Blush and eye shadow followed. Everything precise and perfect. By the time she got to the mascara, she was almost sure she could apply it without ruining it the very next second with more tears.

  Hayden unscrewed the top off her Maybelline long-wear and lifted the brush to her face. Her hand shook. She gritted her teeth and kept going, determined to use routine to regain control of herself. After finishing her left eyelashes, she moved on to the right.

  She started at her lash line and swept up. She found herself thinking about the Dior make-up blog she sometimes read. The artist had said to pick out your make up for the day depending on your mood, like you would your clothes.

  She was supposed to consider different things: Like was she getting ready for work? An interview? A hot date?

  Like with Hoyt?

  Her hand slipped and she painted a thick black scar from the corner of her eye down past her cheek. Crap. Now she just looked like a sick clown with a bright red nose no amount of make-up could cover. No man would come close to her like this.

  Her eyes locked onto her reflection. Was this what Hoyt saw when he looked in the mirror? A huge ugly scar and nothing else?

  She knew he’d broken it off because he was ashamed of his looks, but she’d never really looked at that part of him. And that’s all he focused on.

  Hayden dropped the mascara wand and it clattered into the sink.

  Hayden thought hard, trying to remember every word she’d said to him during his recovery, when he was still covered in bandages and drugged up on pain pills. She’d held his fingers, just his fingers, because even the backs of his hands had giant X’s carved into them.

  She’d cried and cried and told him how much he meant to her. He’d been half out of it most of the time.

  Hayden reached up and smeared the line of mascara down to her chin, drawing an ugly black wound on her face. She’d seen him do that. Trace his scar when he was distracted.

  And then he’d jerk his hand away. Like he was disgusted with himself.

  Her heart took off, beating so fast she couldn’t distinguish one beat from the next. Hayden grabbed the edge of the counter as a wave of dizziness hit her.

  She’d stuck with him all the way, but buckled the first time he’d pushed her away. All she’d been able to see was the hurt inside of herself, instead of the hurt inside of Hoyt.

  Hayden snatched the wash rag from the counter and started scrubbing. She had a new list of items for today.

  Right after she finished groveling to her dad, she was going to confront Hoyt Crowe.

  *

  About thirty minutes later, Hayden rushed through the kitchen and into the living room. “Thank God you’re still here, Dad-” she started, letting out a sigh of relief.

  But the man sitting on the couch wasn’t her father.

  Just like that, her blood started to boil. Hoyt Crowe stood up, clothed in a tight-fitting dark gray shirt that v-ed into his standard black pants. The tattoos he’d gotten a few months ago seemed to pulse and swell up his arms, snaking into the sleeves that pulled obscenely tight over his ripped biceps.

  Hayden’s mouth watered.

  She loved his tattoos. So dark and hard. Just like the man wearing them.

  She hadn’t gotten to see them on his chest or back yet, but she’d imagined them. And right now, her imagination was running across a wild fire of desire.

  Hayden stuffed her emotions down, counting it a success when she didn’t relent to desire and launch herself across the room at him.

  “Are you okay?” Hoyt cleared his throat and shuffled from his left foot to his right.

  The psychology student inside her latched onto that movement. He was nervous. His face may look impassive, but he was as nervous as she was.

  Hayden took a tentative step into the room. Hoyt countered, sliding a step away.

  But this time his distance didn’t hurt so much. She took another step and another, until she’d backed him up to a wall about five feet away. This close she could see his pupils dilate until his blue irises almost disappeared into the black.

  “I’m not okay. But I will be.”

  Hoyt swallowed and she watched, fascinated, as his throat worked up and down. The veins on his neck bulging. He’d lost weight, there was no doubt, but his shoulders still rippled with muscle. Hayden took another step.

  “What…what are your plans today?”

  Another step. Three feet remained between them.

  “I have a list of things I need to do.”

  His nostrils flared and Hayden’s tummy tightened in response. Hope sparked inside her and she took another step, watching as Hoyt palmed the wall behind him. A move that only made his pecs pop hard against the material of his shirt.

  She almost licked her lips.

  Another step. Only a foot between them now. She was so close she could feel him breathing, hard and fast.

  He was afraid.

  Hayden reached for him and he tensed, as rigid as a statue. Those tight lines around his mouth turned white. Uncertainty hit her and she pulled back. “I need to find my dad. Do you know where he is?”

  And she needed more time to plan her attack. Not a full frontal, so to speak, but a sneak attack from behind. She’d take him unaware, so he didn’t have time to be hesitant or afraid.

  Hoyt cleared his throat and spoke, his rough voice a sensual caress to her reawakened spirit. “He took Maxi to work. She had to open the bar. Had me stay here, with you.”

  “Why?”

  He cleared his throat again. “Hayden, we should talk.”

  She wanted to reach for him, but she stayed put, her confidence edged out by nerves. “About what?”

  Hoyt sidestepped and headed to the couch, reclaiming his spot in the middle. Hayden followed and sat down right beside him, feeling every inch of his thigh pressed against hers. Hayden sent up a silent thank you that she’d had enough wits to dress in yoga pants. His heat radiated through the thin material. “Talk about what?” she repeated.

  Hoyt scooted over, putting cold space between them. “About yesterday.”

  “What about yesterday?” She closed the gap, focused on finding his warmth again.

  Hoyt reacted by scooting away again.

  God, she felt like a cat chasing a mouse. How could she have been so blind before? He wasn’t pushing her away, he was running from her.

  Inspiration struck and Hayden leaned over and put her hand on his thigh. Hoyt erupted up from the cushion like she’d burned him.

  Hayden kept her face straight, but inside she jumped for joy. A man who didn’t feel anything for her wouldn’t react that way. He wouldn’t care at all.

  And the man pacing her living room like a caged tiger was anything but the cold monster he made himself out to be.

  “Hoyt, are we still friends?”

  He paused and craned his head her direction. “Why?”

  “We were friends before.” Don’t remind him of the past. “I’ve always felt like I could talk to you.”

  “You can talk to me about anything.” His gruff response sent a chill down her spine and straight to her core.

  “Then why do you keep running from me? Do I stink or something?” Knowing good and well she’d put on his favorite perfume. Two sprays instead of one, just in case.

  “I’m not running.”

  “Then come sit beside me. Your pacing is making me nervous.”

  He stared at her as if she had horns.

  Hayden sighed. Th
is was going to be hard. “I’ve missed you,” she paused and then added, “as a friend.”

  “Hayden, I’ll always be here. As a friend.”

  The infuriating man had turned her own words on her. “Good. I’ve been struggling with something lately and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it.

  “You can talk to me.” God his voice was so gravelly. So sexy.

  “I know you want me to move on. I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”

  “And?” He all but growled.

  “There is this guy, but I don’t know if I can trust him.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know him. Not really. I mean I thought I did. But I don’t.” Hayden stood and went to him, knowing she would have to be the one to mend their broken relationship. And she wouldn’t necessarily play fair.

  17

  His heart bounced from side to side in his chest like it couldn’t make up its mind which way to go. And then her soft hand cupped his cheek and his heart stopped beating altogether. His entire being was focused on Hayden.

  Every minute detail about her. Her heart-shaped face, her rosy lips that formed a slight bow, her turquoise eyes. And after spending all of this time of trying to forget about her, he couldn’t remember why.

  And now she wanted to talk to him about another man? He could handle being a martyr, but he wasn’t a damn saint. “So you’re not still friends with this guy?”

  Who was she talking about? The frat boy? Malik? It had to be one of them. Surely she wasn’t crushing on someone else altogether.

  “I thought we were, but something changed. Last night.”

  His world imploded around him. Last night? She’d been with those two last night, so she had to be talking about one of them. He should be happy if it was frat boy. Elated. But he felt hollow and empty instead. “What changed?”

  Jesus Christ, was that his voice? It sounded like he’d swallowed a tin can of rusty nails.

  “Him. He did something I wasn’t expecting and I didn’t know how to handle it.”