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

well have bitch-slapped Hoyt across the face. Pouting? He was doing the right thing. He was putting her needs before his own, whether she understood that or not. "You think I like giving her up?"
    "I think you're scared. Your whole life you've had things handed to you on a platinum-plated platter. Now that things are getting hard, you're buckling under the pressure." Merc crossed his arms and any semblance of light-heartedness disappeared from his demeanor.
    The rage rushing through his veins exploded. "Easy? When I was a little kid, my aunt locked Jared and me in a closet and tried to beat and starve us to death. We escaped and had to survive in the woods alone for months, and then we had to survive the foster system after that. Easy? You've lost your mind."
    Merc’s hand suddenly shot out and pushed Hoyt against the driver’s side door. Hoyt tried to struggle, but his friend’s strength seemed superhuman.
    "Exactly. That’s the reaction I was looking for,” he said, the side of his mouth tipping up in a sardonic grin. “You’ve survived more hardship than any man I know. This is just another notch on your belt. Pull your head out of your ass and fight. Fight for what you want. Because the Hoyt Crowe I know doesn't just give up. He destroys anyone stupid enough to stand in his path."
    The laptop beeped and Merc jerked back, yanking the computer into his lap.
    Hoyt rubbed the sore part of his neck where Merc had grabbed him. It would take him a while to process his friend’s words. "What's it say?"
    "Finally loaded the history. Looks like Malik's father is English and his mother is Saudi. He's here on a student visa."
    Merc was right—he wanted Hayden as much as he’d ever wanted her. The wanting hadn’t gone away. But maybe he had nothing left to offer her but a penchant for violence and nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat...
    "Did you say student visa?" he said, finally tuning back in.
    "Yeah, why?" Merc turned to him slowly, and Hoyt knew his head had to be throbbing too.
    "The first guy, the one in the Honda, he had a student visa."

9
    H oyt ripped the door open and exploded from the Hummer, Merc's heavy footsteps pounding the pavement right behind him. Hayden had disappeared from her post outside. Both men ran all out for the house, splitting the throng of people down the middle. The guy closest to them shouted and dove right out of their path, and the sea of partiers split as fast as the Red Sea before Moses.
    Hoyt rushed up the stairs and surged through the back door.
    Floppy frat boys shouted as Hoyt shoved them aside, a maniac with a savage need to find and protect Hayden. His veins filled with the boiling tar of rage, fury and fear; he jammed through the throng of brunettes and blondes, not even sparing a glance for the fake boobs poking out over their painted-on shirts or their five-inch fuck-me-heels.
    He burst through the open kitchen door and ground to a halt at the wall of vice he found there. Heat and sweat and the smell of beer permeated the air. A loud rap song pulsed across the floor, vibrating through his entire body with every beat.
    “I’ll check the upstairs.” Merc pushed off to the right, working through the crowd up the stair case. Hoyt froze in place.
    A cold sweat broke out on his flesh, despite the thermal heat in the room. A few women looked his way, did a what-the-fuck double take, and then scattered, getting as far away from him as possible. The nearest guys, either too drunk or too stupid to realize that his presence could spell their death, tried to shoulder together and block his path. Hoyt let out a low growl, the sound not nearly as feral as he felt, and the wall toppled.
    The crowd fell back in a loose circle.
    He scanned the living room, his gaze stalling every time it lit on a head of blonde hair, but where was Hayden? He couldn't even sense her presence.
    The music seemed to ratchet up louder and Hoyt’s hands fisted at his sides. Those unlucky few who were still