Ravaged River (Men of Mercy #6) (14 page)

T
he cold sterile
lab air punched through Hayden. Everything about the room looked the same. Three rows of rectangular black tables with scarred wood legs were spaced out in three perfect columns. Mice cages stacked half way up the back wall. Definitely not the amount needed by a big pharmacy, but perfect for their little college.

The bad lighting and lack of windows could make someone feel like they were in an interrogation room or some kind of scary movie. Not Hayden, though. This used to be her sanctuary, but the only thing she felt now was empty.

Haphazard stacks of papers lay scattered across the surfaces of the tables, and to the untrained eye it would look like the obsessive compulsive's nightmare. But each table had a purpose. The organization meant something.

This was the professor's life’s work. Everything he'd sought to achieve was built into these stacks of paper. Only now it wouldn't be Latham's name signed at the bottom of the National Psychology Association's semi-annual journal. No, his name would be carved into a stone that would be positioned right beside his dead wife's.

Hayden meandered through the tables, letting her fingers scan the tops, trying to absorb any remnants of Professor Latham's energy. Anyone who knew him closely—her, his graduate students, his research partners—knew he slept here more than at his own house.

They all knew just how important the lab was to him, how much he wanted to make a difference.

And Hayden knew this place would never feel the same way.

A mouse squeaked and Hayden went to the back of the room. The center cage was eye level, and Jarvis, her favorite mouse, stood up on his back feet in greeting. His belly was a little round from all the snacks she fed him.

"I bet you're hungry." She pulled the bag of food from a nearby shelf and filled his feeder.

Jarvis climbed up the side of his cage and stuck his little whiskered nose through one of the small squares between the bars. Hayden stroked his fur. "I miss him too. But I'm not going to let them say he's the bad guy. You know he's not either, right?"

Jarvis squeaked and dropped back down, running in a fast small circle before climbing back up the side. It was Jarvis’s classic move when he wanted a snack, but Hayden chose to believe it was simply his way of agreeing with her. "There's no way he could've done anything like that."

"We need to go; the team should be here by now."

Hayden turned and threaded her fingers into the cages at her back. Hoyt was only a few feet behind her. Even twenty pounds lighter than he'd been six months ago, he still took over the small room. He stalked toward her, everything about the way he moved predatory.

Hayden swallowed. "Hoyt, I need to feed the mice and get the professor's paperwork organized."

She wanted to go through everything without someone looking over her shoulder. Latham's research laptop sat two rows over and she knew the password.

Hoyt didn't stop until she was trapped between him and the cages. He lifted a hand, his movement hesitant, and tucked her hair behind her ear. "You can do that later."

She looked into his eyes and her mouth went dry when she saw the possessive glint in his gaze. His fingers trailed from her ear down her jawline. Her heart flipped over in a somersault before plopping back down in place. She swallowed, trying to keep herself collected. "I need to feed the animals
now
."

His fingers traveled down her neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Her reaction to him felt as natural as the sun rising. And almost as hot. "You stay with me,” he growled.

"So I'm to be your prisoner?"

Hoyt flinched and his hand fell from her throat, the sensual haze of the moment sliced in half by her careless words. "You know I'd never do that."

Regret clutching at her, she reached for Hoyt. She expelled a sigh of relief when he didn't jerk away from her touch. "I shouldn't have said it that way."

Hayden slid her palm over the chiseled contours of his arm. The rough texture of his skin abraded her palm, sending bone-melting sensation after sensation shooting up her skin. "What I meant was that I don't like being told what to do."

And that was a fact she had absolutely no shame in admitting.

His lips twisted into a crooked smile, and she could literally feel the tension ease from his body. "Very true. Maybe I should have approached it a different way, but I'm a little out of practice talking to women."

Hayden snorted and rolled her eyes, when Hoyt Crowe turned on the charm, he could talk a fox into giving up its fur. "Nah, you're just like my brothers. You think your women should take orders from you like your soldiers do."

Hayden gasped when she realized what she’d said. She wasn't his woman. Not anymore. But the way he was looking at her right now made her feel every inch possessed. Desire licked up her skin, urging her to lean into his strong arms. To feel his heat.

A rumble sounded deep in Hoyt's chest and he stepped closer, cutting the inch between them to nothing. His fresh masculine scent overpowered her senses, obliterating the sterile disinfectant permeating the air.

"You're right. We do tend to order the people we love around. But only when it's for their own good." His arms wrapped around her waist and yanked her from the cage until every inch of her front was pressed to every inch of his.

Hayden's heart rate skyrocketed. His fingers tangled in her hair and she had to fight a mewl of pleasure.

"You forced me to take you away from safety and bring you to this place, surrounded by unknowns. I'm losing my mind here, Hayden. The next time I tell you to stay put when there are terrorists running around Mercy, you better stay put." Hoyt's mouth slanted over hers, his scarred lip brushing over hers in a rough caress that drove her beyond reason. Beyond logic. Hayden all but climbed up his chest, seeking to deepen the connection she'd been missing.

Tension coiled between her thighs, and when her knees started to wobble, she instinctively gripped Hoyt's shoulders for support. Hoyt groaned and crushed her to his chest, rubbing her aching nipples to the point of pain.

Hoyt deepened the kiss, dominating her mouth with a pent up need that matched her own. Hayden shoved her hands under his shirt and skimmed the hard planes of his abs. She'd missed him so much. So damn much, she wanted to see and feel and touch every inch of him. She
needed
him. Now. Her body was hot and shaking with longing.

"Hoyt, don't stop." Hayden longed to tangle her fingers into his hair, but he’d shorn it off. She settled for wrapping her arms around his neck to anchor him to her.

"I'd forgotten how perfect you taste." Hoyt nipped at her lips, her jaw. His hot breath puffing over her cheeks. Hayden caressed his face, closing her eyes to let her fingers relearn the sharp contours of his face.

Hayden felt a small smile play at the corners of her lips. "You didn't have to,” she whispered. She hadn't forgotten. Not for one single day, not for even a second.

"I'm sorry." His whispered words burned into her soul like hot coals.

She didn't know what to say. He'd broken her heart. Torn her apart. It wasn't okay, but she understood. So she just kept her head pressed to his chest and gave a small nod of acknowledgment.

"I mean it. I know I hurt you and I'm so fucking sorry."

A riptide of tears threatened to break loose from her, but Hayden pinched her eyes shut tight, refusing to cry anymore. God, she was tired of crying, even if Hoyt had just ripped the giant Band-Aid off the open wound on her heart. But if this was him finding his way back to her...

"What are you trying to say?"

Had he finally figured out that they needed each other? That they were good together?

His phone chirped. Hoyt growled, ripped it out of his pocket, and answered. "What?"

Hayden couldn't hear the response on the other end, but whatever the caller said made Hoyt stiffen and pull away from her. "Where?"

During the next pause Hayden wrapped her arms around her middle and bit her lip, still tingling from his mind-numbing kiss.

"Yes, she's right here." Hoyt's unreadable gaze cut to hers. "Yes, I remember."

He turned away and Hayden's chest went tight. Something in his look had shifted before he gave her his back. Something dark.

"I'll be right there." Hoyt disconnected the call.

His shoulders heaved and then straightened. Hayden put a hand up to her throat as Hoyt turned to look at her. Misery, utter and complete, filled his eyes. "We need to go; the team is out front. They've got Malik's car."

"Hoyt, what were you trying to tell me before the call?"

His lips pressed together so hard his scar went white, and her chest compressed on itself so much she could barely breathe.

"It was nothing important."

She jerked. Oh God, he might as well have poured alcohol on that open wound he’d bared. "Don't do this. You don't have to do this." She'd do anything to hold him. Every instinct in her body urged her to go to him, to caress him, to comfort him until that tortured look in his eyes disappeared.

"You can't fix me, Hayden."

H
oyt's
first impulse was to go to her. Wrap his arms around her and tell her how much he loved her. He'd been so damn close to losing himself in her. If Hunter hadn't called, he would have.

But if he let himself relent, if he let himself take her, he wouldn't be able to ever let her go again. And he didn’t want this for her; he didn’t want her to waste her life on a sad, broken down soldier with PTSD. He wanted her to be happy, to live a life full of laughter and joy.

And more than that, he wanted her to be safe. Safe from the terrorists who were stalking him and his team and their loved ones.

He wanted all of this more than he wanted her to risk her future on him.

"I'll take you to Hunter. You can ride home with him."

"No." Hayden stood in the middle of the room, shaking her head, her mouth open, eyes awash with pain.

He almost went to her then. Almost. But he'd already made up his mind. Hayden’s wellbeing came before his own happiness. No matter what it cost him.

Hoyt forced out a harsh laugh, ignoring the knife twisting inside his chest. "That kiss was hot, but it was my way of telling you goodbye. That's it. I know you want more, but I don't."

H
ayden tried
to suck in a breath, but a huge ball of pain completely blocked her throat. Hoyt opened the door, checked the hall, and then turned back to her. A shutdown machine. Cold. Hard. Unfeeling.

"Let's go."

She stumbled back and grabbed the edge of one of the tables for support, knocking a pile of papers onto the floor. The sheets fell around her, surrounding her. She fell back another step. How could he be so callous? She'd felt him opening up to her.

"No, I'm not going with you. You're lying. That wasn't goodbye." She had to try again. She wouldn’t give up on him; she couldn’t.

The only tell he gave was his white-knuckled grip on the door knob. "It's not open for discussion."

"Maybe not right now, but—"

"Not ever. Now are you coming or do I have to throw you over my shoulder?"

She wanted to collapse right then and there. Before he’d seemed so broken and scared, but there was something different about this active assault on her feelings. It was as if he’d made a decision, and he was determined for it to be final.

And he wanted her to follow him out of the building so he could hand her off to her brothers, dust his hands of her, and move on? Not gonna happen. "You go. I'll stay here."

"Hunter will kill me if I leave you unprotected."

Is that the only reason he cared? Her brother? "I'll deal with my brother."

Hoyt took a menacing step into the room, all softness gone. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"Look, the door is solid metal. You can lock me in." Hayden grabbed the keys off a nearby table and tossed them to him. Hoyt snatched the flying jangle of metal out of the air.

"Take the keys, I'll stay in here until you send my brother in to get me. I am not leaving until I feed the mice and pick up this mess." She gestured to the room with a hard chop of her hand.

"Hayden—"

"Enough. You’ve made it very clear you don't want to be around me. It will be easier for you to search the building, or whatever it is you want to do, alone. Just. Go."

Hayden held her breath, trying to school her features so they resembled something other than straight up pain on ice.

"Fine. Do not open this door for anyone but me or Hunter, clear?"

"Crystal."

Hoyt growled and slammed his way out of the room. She heard the sound of the key being shoved in the lock. Then a snap as the lock tumbled into place.

Hoyt's heavy footsteps faded and Hayden finally gave in to impulse and collapsed to the floor amidst the scattered papers. Everything about her life was damaged. And as much as she'd demanded to be left alone here, now she was surrounded by memories of Professor Latham and the unshakable reality that he wasn't coming back.

If Hoyt’s behavior after that phone call was any indication, he wasn't coming back either. Ever.

Hayden felt hot tears track down her cheeks and wiped them away with anger. After the hope that had been growing inside her all day like a buoyant balloon, this tumble back to Earth was so much worse.

She had to do something to distract herself from the pain. Hayden reached for the nearest paper, groaning when she realized she'd destroyed a neatly stacked research document. Ugh, there was no way she could leave without putting everything back in order.

Hayden started to pick up more papers, carefully restoring the pages to their former order. When she hadn’t made much of a dent after a few minutes, she sighed aloud, realizing this would take a lot longer than she'd hoped. Hayden got to her knees and started making piles. She'd already determined there were at least three different articles in the mix, and she’d yet to find a title page.

Typical Latham. His system of organization had been more about convenience for him than it had been about accessibility for anyone else.

Hayden reached for another piece of paper on the floor. Finally, a title sheet. Now she could start making real progress. And once she sorted the papers, she’d move on to the mice and then Latham's computer. She had a feeling she'd find proof of his innocence there.

First things first. She scanned the title sheet in her hands. Her heart started to beat faster.
An in-depth study on the psychology of the Nazi movement in Germany pre-World War II and a comparative analysis on propaganda used by today's terrorists
, by John Latham and Malik Hussein.

Hayden dropped the sheet like she'd been burned. Her eyes must be playing a trick on her, right? She fell to her hands and quickly sifted through the rest of the sheets, searching for something else. Anything else. She spied another title page and snatched it up.

Common social media tactics of terrorists to gain sympathizers and recruit worldwide
, by John Latham and Malik Hussein.

Her vision blacked for a moment. No. This was all wrong. Heart hammering out of control, Hayden searched for something else. Some kind of explanation. When she lifted the third title sheet, her hand was shaking so much she almost couldn't make out the words.

How to win support of a collective population using decisive propaganda and fear
, by John Latham and Malik Hussein.

The words on the paper blurred and Hayden blinked rapidly, bringing the title back into focus. Each of the behaviors was a study on how to change people's behaviors. How crowds and riots react. How to convince normal people to commit murder.

Hayden heard someone insert a key into the lock and the grind of the door knob turning. Hoyt. He'd come back after all. But she was glued to the floor, unable to make her legs move.

The door swung open and all the blood drained from her face.

Malik stood there, his brown leather briefcase in one hand, his keys in the other. His dark brown gaze fell on her. The trembles rocking through Hayden's limbs heightened into full-blown shakes.

Malik took a step inside and leaned back, helpless to move. Malik's dark brows swooped down. "Hayden? Are you okay?"

She worked her lips but couldn't form words.

The door swung shut. Malik gently placed his briefcase on the first table and approached her with slow, measured steps. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Herself? No, it seemed like everyone around her was hell bent on doing that for her. Malik stopped at the edge of papers and lowered into a crouch. "Hayden?"

She lifted the first of the title sheets she’d found, her hand shaking with an uncontrolled violence. "What is this?"