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

  Hoyt’s gaze slid to his right and Hayden grabbed onto the break like a life line, gulping in air and reached for nonexistent control. She followed it to see Mandy braced against the kitchen bar, holding on to the counter behind her. Hayden rolled her eyes at her friend. “Mandy, meet Hoyt. Hoyt, meet Mandy.”

  Mandy gave a little wave but didn’t budge. Hoyt was staring at her, his brows drawn down low in confusion. But the effect was scaring the crap out of her friend. “Mandy, go wash your face, I think you’re freaking him out.”

  Her friend’s awareness came back in a split second. She touched her face, eyes wide and rushed out of the room.

  “This is gonna mess her up for life. She’s never gone out of the house without make-up. You just got the one and only glimpse of the real Mandy.”

  The tightness around his mouth eased and Hoyt said, “Is that what all girls look like under their make up?”

  “You don’t wanna know.”

  Hoyt cleared his throat. Then he paced over to the hall, glanced down and then back to Hayden. “Listen, this has to do with the Team. I need you back at your dad’s, now. For your own safety.”

  Hayden sobered in an instant. There were only a few things these men took so seriously, and if it involved her brother’s Special Forces team and they’d sent Hoyt to bring her in, there was something major going on. “Will you please fill me in on the way back to dad’s?”

  She wouldn’t try to force him to talk in front of Mandy. She might be seriously pissed and hurt and filled with longing for Hoyt Crowe, but this was different. She’d have to stuff her feelings back for now.

  “Yes.” Hoyt moved back to the door and scanned the parking lot and then his penetrating gaze landed on her again.

  Hayden stopped breathing.

  “Hurry. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  Hayden nodded and rushed down to Mandy’s bathroom. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I can’t talk right now, but I promise to call you tomorrow.”

  Mandy finished toweling off her face. “Wait.”

  “I can’t wait. I need to grab some stuff at my apartment and go to dad’s for the night.”

  Mandy grabbed her arm, her face pale. “You sure you’re okay with him?”

  “I know he looks scary, all those guys look scary, but Hoyt would die before he let anything happen to me. I promise.”

  “I’m not talking about that. I saw the way you looked at him. It wasn’t anything like how you looked at Chance and Malik. You really do still love him.”

  Hayden’s throat closed up. She couldn’t talk about this right now. She couldn’t face the facts, not with him standing two rooms over. “I’m fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Hayden – ”

  “No, I have to go.” Hayden pulled her in for a quick hug. “Thanks for tonight.”

  Mandy hugged her back. “Okay, I’ll let you escape, for now, but you will tell me the whole story. You got it?”

  “Sure.”

  Hayden left before Mandy could forget and start grilling her again. She ran down the short hall. “Okay, take me to my apartment. I need to grab a few things.”

  About thirty minutes later, they were on the road out to her dad’s place. “So are you going to fill me in?”

  Hoyt held silent for so long that Hayden started to think he hadn’t heard her. “There’s been an attack. Here in Mercy. We think they are targeting our Team.”

  All the air whooshed out of the cab. Hoyt took a hard left off Highway 1 down Hanks driveway and she grabbed the door handle. “Where?”

  “In town. Me and Merc got into it with a couple of them tonight.”

  “So those butterfly stitches holding your wound together aren’t from an accident?” Hayden pressed a hand to her throat.

  “The accident involved my head and my Jeep’s windshield.”

  “You were in a car wreck? Tonight?”

  Hoyt glanced her way, his eyebrows raised as if to say, so what? “Yeah, no big deal. We just got a few scratches.” And then his face hardened into a deadly mask. “You should see the other guys.”

  Hayden swallowed and faced forward, she didn’t want to know what happened to the other guys. She spied the yard light over the big metal building Hank had given to her brother, Hunter, in the distance. Tall pine trees and oaks stood sentry in a thick line down the half-a-mile long drive. “Does dad know?”

  “No. He took Maxine camping and we haven’t been able to get in touch with him.”

  Crap that’s right. He’d been planning this trip for weeks. “Do you know anything else? Are there more of them here?”

  They pulled up to the building and turned right. The parking lot was full of trucks she didn’t recognize. Hoyt gripped the steering wheel in a death grip and his face went blank.

  Fear dotted down her spine and sank into her legs, making them feel heavy and weak. “What are you not telling me? Who are all those people?”

  “I’ll let Hunter fill you in. It’s not my place.” He flicked a look her way beneath lowered lids and Hayden wanted to scream.

  “Dammit, Hoyt, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on?”

  Hoyt slammed the SUV into park. He kept his right arm on the steering wheel and craned his head to face her, that damn carefully blank expression still in place. She knew right then he wasn’t going to tell her, he wasn’t going to do anything but drop her and run. “You had no intention of telling me the full truth did you?”

  He shook his head.

  “You just said what you needed to get me out here, because you knew I wouldn’t ride with you.”

  Her chin wobbled and she clamped her lips together. How could she have thought he might have softened to her? Mandy’s words taunted her, running in circles around her mind. Hoyt Crowe wasn’t scared of anything, let alone a relationship with her. He was a ruthless machine.

  “Your brother is inside. Need me to carry your bag for you?”

  Nothing. Not a flicker of regret, longing or even lust. Just nothing. Hayden lifted her chin. Screw him, she was a James. Her family ate guys like him for breakfast.

  Hayden reached in the back, grabbed her backpack and got out, keeping her shoulders straight as a steel cross beam and marched to her brother’s front door. She lifted a hand to knock, but before she let her fist fall, the door swung open. Hunter stood there with Hank Jr. on his hip, his eyes bloodshot and his face pale. “Thank God.”

  Thoughts of Hoyt and his new level of being an ass fled. “What’s wrong?”

  Hunter thrust Hank Jr. to her and Hayden cradled her eight-month old nephew to her chest. He had a head full of midnight black hair, just like Hunter, but blue eyes like his mother and he was the most gorgeous baby on the planet, in her opinion. Right now, he was naked except for a diaper and was trying to swat at her nose.

  “I think Jr.’s over the stomach bug, but he gave it to me and Evie.” Her usually stoic, tough brother wiped a shaky hand down his face. “Can you help take care of him?”

  “Of course, but I want to know – ”

  Hunter held up a hand. “Later. Just come inside and lock the door.”

  And then he took off in the direction of his bedroom. Hayden walked inside and turned to lock the front door, spying an already empty driveway. Hoyt had fled the minute she stepped foot onto her brother’s front porch.

  Hayden shut and locked the door, dropped her bag by the entry table and snuggled Hank Jr. to her cheek. “I guess it’s just me and you tonight, buddy.”

  12

  Hank Jr. woke her the next morning at the ungodly hour of eight a.m., crushing her hope to sleep in this Saturday. Last night, she’d dragged his pack-n-play into the spare bedroom, sprayed down a heavy layer of Lysol, and sang her nephew to sleep before passing out around one a.m.

  Hayden changed his diaper, hoisted him up to her hip and checked on Hunter and his wife, Evie. Both of them were out cold on their own bed. Hayden quietly shut the door and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. “So what are we going
to do today?”

  Hayden propped him up in the high chair and then fixed him a sippy cup of milk. Hank Jr. downed it and tossed the empty cup on the floor. Clapping his hands and grinning in her direction.

  Hayden bent to pick it up. “We’re not playing this game today. The last time you did this to me, I ended up scrubbing the kitchen floor because you broke your sippy cup.”

  Her nephew clapped and cooed and pointed at the cup, totally uncaring and so cute she couldn’t tell him no. “Fine, just one more time. That’s it.”

  After a few more rounds of fetch, Hayden managed to make him a bowl of baby cereal and get him to eat. Then she fed herself and went to the living room, put Hank Jr. down on his play mat, where he immediately grabbed the nearest light up toy piano and started banging out notes.

  Hayden slid down on the floor next to him and flipped on the T.V.

  Last night’s foray into the single world had gone quite a bit better than she could have hoped. At least until Hoyt showed up and Hayden had jumped right onto her typical emotional rollercoaster ride of joy and anguish.

  The news came on the TV, showing a panoramic view of Stanley Hall surrounded by an unusually large amount of students for the weekend. Most were huddled in small groups of three and four, whispering the same way high schoolers did when the latest flash of drama hit the school.

  The news crew followed the local anchor lady up the massive concrete stair case and through the double doors. Police ushered most of the crowd to the sides and held them in check with tightly wound police tape.

  Dread crept up her spine like fire ants marching to her scalp, warning of impending doom.

  The news anchor took a right, and then a left, striding down the puke-green tiles and tan walls, her mouth moving the whole time. Hayden recognized that part of the building. The hallway led to the row of professor offices. Hayden realized she had the TV on mute and quickly turned the volume up.

  “He was found murdered last night by local law enforcement in his home. Police have locked down his office and are searching his files for clues as to who the perpetrator could be. They currently have one suspect.”

  The anchor rounded the last corner and strode to an office at the end of the hall, cordoned off with more bright yellow police tape. The fire ants returned with a vengeance, lighting her on fire from the inside out. But on the outside she was ice-cold.

  A fat policeman, his lapels soaked in sweat, crowded the entrance, the poster model for a walking heart attack. He coughed, wiped his face with a dingy stained cloth, and adjusted the utility belt that was barely holding up beneath the weight of his bulging belly.

  “Sir, can you tell us what happened?” The news anchor shoved her mic into the cop’s face.

  The cop hiked his belt up and shuffled his shoulders back. “I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”

  “Get your hands off me, you filthy pig!” The video camera swung around to the left and zoomed in on another cop dragging Professor Rhoden from her office. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and her spiky hair in disarray. “This is sexual harassment. You can’t treat me like this.”

  The steely-eyed policeman shook her once and propelled her in front of him. “Keep moving.”

  “Nazi! This is abuse. I have my rights.” Rhoden’s boots clunked down the hall in a forced stumble.

  As they came closer, Hayden instinctively cringed. The professor’s normally cold, calculating gaze was wild. Her dark red lipstick was slightly smeared.

  “My lawyer will be all over you!”

  Professor Rhoden’s gaze slammed into the camera. Hayden sucked in a breath. There wasn’t any spite or hatred in the woman’s gaze this time. The overwhelming emotion on Rhoden’s face was fear.

  The anchor kicked into action, shoving her mic in Rhoden’s face and chasing her down the hall. “Ma’am, were you with Professor Latham at the time of the attack? Are you a suspect? Can you tell us what happened?”

  Rhoden snarled and bared her teeth like a rabid dog and the anchor lady snapped back. The camera followed the pair as the police man shoved Rhoden down the hall and outside —a circus spectacle for a crowd of students who mostly despised her. Hayden heard a smattering of applause break out from the crowd, in small waves at first and then growing in force like a tsunami.

  A tsunami that threatened to crush Hayden. Her cell phone rang from the bedroom and Hayden jumped up and ran to get it. Malik’s number appeared on the screen. Hayden answered the call, her heart racing out of control.

  She could feel his despair before he spoke. “Hayden?”

  She stumbled back down the hall and collapsed on the couch as Hank Jr. continued to play, oblivious to his aunt’s world imploding.

  “I just turned on the news,” Hayden said.

  “Me, too. The professor is dead.”

  “Dead?” The world tilted. This can’t be happening.

  “The police found him last night around midnight. He was murdered.”

  The living room contracted around her and she couldn’t catch her breath. Midnight…midnight…she’d been at the frat party. She’d been enjoying herself…

  And Professor Latham had been suffering. Had been dying.

  Another thought hit her and she fell back against the couch for support. He’d been on a date with Rhoden and the cops had just towed her ass away like she was the wrong half of Bonnie and Clyde.

  “Why did she do that?” It came out in a rough, hoarse voice.

  “I honestly don’t think she did.”

  “Are we talking about the same woman? The one that likes to flunk students just for fun? Did you not hear her? She just called that cop a Nazi pig!”

  “She was frightened. Did you not see her face?”

  Malik just pissed her off. “You were there,” she insisted. “You heard Latham say he had a date with her last night. Maybe she held a grudge against him because all the students liked him and not her.”

  Malik sighed and she could picture him rubbing a tan hand through his dark hair. “I don’t think Rhoden is the type of woman to care about that. And I think she genuinely cared about Latham.”

  Professor Latham, who had been like a grandfather to her. Urging her to go out and have fun. And the moment she started to have fun…

  “He insisted that we go out last night,” Hayden choked out. “We should’ve been doing research with him. Maybe if we had been there…”

  “Don’t you dare think like that. The professor didn’t want us to spend all our time drowning in research. Alone. You know that. Besides, he was looking forward to a night out himself.”

  Tears threatened again, and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. “But—”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  Then why did she feel so guilty? “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  She heard Malik sniff and then cough and she realized he had to be hurting just as bad. “Malik, I’m so sorry.”

  13

  Hoyt kept his eyes shut and fumbled for the night stand, knowing the dim lamp light would pierce his throbbing skull like an icepick. He felt for a bottle of water with a shaking hand, inadvertently knocking something heavy to the ground. He grabbed the glass bottle and cradled it to his chest. Shit. He’d have to sit up and open his eyes.

  Slowly unbending his arms and body, he pushed up. As soon as he got vertical, he cracked a lid. The whole room pulled a one-eighty and he fell to his knees. Nausea rolled around in his gut. His throat burned.

  Fuck, he must have hit his head harder than he’d thought in the accident.

  Hoyt palmed the floor, sliding his hands out past shoulder width to brace his weight. He dragged a breath into his lungs and eased his eyes open.

  An empty fifth of Crown lay at an angle next to his right hand. He didn’t remember drinking… Hoyt propped an elbow on the mattress and then used his whole arm to ratchet himself up to his knees. His bed stand was cluttered with crumpled paper.

  His gut rolle
d. He crawled to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to puke.

  Last night edged back into his consciousness. He had come home after finding the dead body, but that hadn’t really bothered him. He’d seen hundreds of dead bodies in his life—after about the tenth one he’d gone numb to sightless eyes and stiff limbs.

  No, the professor’s death hadn’t even pricked much emotion.

  It was the party that had dug its nails into him. The sight of Hayden with those guys. The way that girl had taken one look at him before running for the hills. And how goddamn golden boy, almost a replica of Hoyt’s younger self, had emerged from the crowd, ready to slay the beast.

  Hoyt gave a harsh laugh. He wasn’t living in a Disney fairytale. Hayden wasn’t Belle, and he sure as hell didn’t have an enchanted rose to restore his good looks.

  Or to remove the black mark on his soul.

  And then he’d been forced into close quarters with Hayden and it had taken every ounce of his control not to take her into his arms.

  When he was fairly certain the puking session was over, Hoyt climbed to his feet and stumbled to the sink to splash cold water on his face. He stood and faced the slightly darker light tan oval on the wall. There used to be a mirror there. His brother had removed all of the mirrors in the house while he was at the VA, either in an attempt to help Hoyt get over his reflection or to subvert another suicide attempt.

  Either way, the blank spaces where the mirrors used to be had become a glaring reminder of his stint in rehab.

  He’d learned to get comfortable with himself and the fact that he was broken. But broken things could still do damage. The counselors had told him it would help if he found something to live for.

  He knew his reason to live—it was a cold hard fact. His team needed him.

  And he needed Hayden. Why couldn’t he stop obsessing over her? Shit, they’d only dated a few months before his time on Crowe Mountain. But those months had been pure heaven.

  He remembered what it had felt to have Hayden pressed against him. Her soft skin, soft hair, soft lips. Everything about her had countered him, completed him.