Free Ravaged River (Men of Mercy #6) by Lindsay Cross

got damaged,” Merc said. “The screen just froze."
    Hoyt grunted a response. He was too busy staring at Hayden to give a more collected response. There was a newcomer to Hayden's little man party, a dopey looking blond guy in a toga. The dark-haired student, Malik, stayed for a second and then broke off and walked into the house. But Hoyt’s attention was on the blond idiot who’d scooped Hayden up into the air and was spinning her around.
    A heavy boulder bounced up from Hoyt's stomach and into his chest. He rubbed his sternum. Hard.
    Forget doing the right thing and letting her move on. He set down the pistol and grabbed the door handle.
    This guy was obviously not a terrorist, but he was seriously encroaching on Hoyt's territory.
    What territory? You told her you didn't want to see her ever again.
    He let his hand slide from the door handle.
    The guy set Hayden on her feet and stepped back, giving Hoyt a clearer view of his features. Blond hair. Decent build. Tan skin. Like a younger, better-looking version of Hoyt.
    Hoyt glanced in the rearview mirror and cringed. The jagged scar running down the left side of his face made him look like some twisted version of the Joker.
    As always, the scar itched and Hoyt lifted a finger and gently ran it down the scar’s smooth shiny length, catching the barest tremble of his hand in the mirror.
    He’d bet anything that the frat boy in the toga didn't have scars disfiguring his entire body.
    Hoyt tried to swallow past what felt like a tight fist clenching his throat. By appearance, the guy was the perfect replacement for him. Easy smile. Good-looking. Comfortable with Hayden.
    Just like Hoyt had been before he was tortured on Crowe Mountain.
    Just like he could never be again.
    "You want to stop caressing that pistol? I don't think the locals will take it too well if you start capping civilians."
    Hoyt hadn’t even realized he’d picked it up again. He forced his fingers to unwrap themselves from around the pistol and holstered the weapon. Even though he'd never admit it, Merc was right. He couldn’t deal. It had been a lot easier to tell Hayden to move on with her life from the confines of his bedroom. Through Jared. Actually seeing her with another guy was an entirely different matter.
    And it was something he’d better learn to deal with really quick. He had no right to ask her to be with him again when there were still so many scars on his body and soul, no right to beg her forgiveness after leaving her with no real explanation.
    He needed to remind himself that Hayden James deserved to be with another man. A better one. His gaze found the rearview mirror again. Look at yourself. If you really care about Hayden, you'll leave her the fuck alone.
    Never touch her again, just like he'd promised Hunter.
    "I know it's not my place, but I don't think Hayden's bothered by the scars. As a matter of fact, most women kind of dig them." Merc's deep voice drew him out of his vortex of self-loathing.
    Hoyt glanced over to see Merc shifting in his seat. “You get hit in the head harder than I thought?”
    "Have you looked at me lately? It’s not like I’m freaking James Bond on the cover of GQ , badass because I've got a little scar," Hoyt snarled.
    "James Bond doesn't have shit on you. He's a character played by a fucking actor. You’re the real deal."
    "Well, the real deal makes babies cry and little kids hide when I go out to grab a bite. So why don't you back the fuck off."
    A savage violence unleashed itself in him. He needed to hit something, and right now the best option was beating the shit out of his friend. Even if Merc was the deadliest assassin in the entire Special Forces. The rage ripping through him right now didn't know reason.
    Merc leaned back and arched a brow, his casual I'm-not-really-scared-of-you look pissing Hoyt off even more. "I'm not the only one who’s tired of seeing you walk around pouting like a three-year-old girl who lost her Barbie."
    He might as