The Mercenary (2 of 2 free samples)

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COPYRIGHT
The Mercenary by Cherry Adair. Copyright 1994 by Cherry Wilkinson.
All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.

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PROLOGUE (CONT'D)

Marc didn't know anything about papers or photos. He did know that Alex was merely humoring him as they exchanged blows. But, damn it, it felt good to be beating the crap out of someone. Too bad his friend had shown up when he'd been spoiling for a fight for months. He hadn't been invited, Marc though sourly, hitting him again, so he could damn well take his licks and then get lost.

Alex hit back, not holding his punches this time.

Good. Fine. Great.

Almost ten minutes passed before they staggered apart, exhausted and bloodied as the first star winked in the red-washed Montana sky.

"I didn't want to believe it, either, but the evidence is there, man." Alex exhaled, bent over at the waist. "She turned on her country, and on you. She was rotten, Marc." His mouth was bleeding, and he swiped at his lip with the back of his hand.

"Shut the hell up and get off my land. And don't fucking come back." If the news was true, then he'd spent the last two years of his life mourning a lie.

"Come with me to Marezzo," Alex countered. "We need you."

Needed him? What a joke. The information Alex had just shared about Krista changed everything, and yet the anger, pain and heartbreak flowed back into his system as if it had happened mere days ago.

Instead of years.

Two long damn years.

"They're dead, Marc. All of them."

"Shut up--"

"The royal family. The king and queen of Marezzo and their son and daughter. Executed. They didn't have a chance, with the information Spider had--"

Marc opened his mouth to say something, but found his throat had closed.

"Spider has the island, Marc. They've taken it over and God knows what they have planned. So go ahead and play cowboy if you want, but I'll be leaving tonight to stop them." Alex turned, not sparing Marc a glance as he walked away.

Rubbing his jaw, Marc stared after his friend. Alex still packed a hell of a punch. He waited, hoping Lynx would simply start the damn vehicle and leave. Instead, his friend reached into the open window and grabbed a thick manila envelope from the front seat.

"Read it and weep, you stubborn bastard." Alex threw it onto the wide porch. He rounded the vehicle and opened the door, then climbed in. "And try to sleep at night, thinking about what those butchers are getting away with."

It wasn't that Marc didn't want to. It wasn't that he even had a choice. Simple truth was, he'd be useless on a mission. Finding out that he'd been sleeping with, no, he admitted brutally, in love with, the enemy, solidified his belief. But could he, in good conscience, send his partner off to that island alone?

"Can't do it."

Something in his tone must have gotten through to his partner, because Alex looked down at his bruised knuckles grasping the steering wheel and studied them for an inordinate amount of time. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. "Then tell me what the hell's going on--why have you refused missions for the last two years?"

"I was in the business for almost half my damn life. Half my life fighting other people's wars. I wanted out." It wasn't all a lie, but it wasn't all the truth, either. It would have to do. "Take care of yourself," Marc muttered, embarrassed by the emotion that had crept into his voice. "Don't be a goddamn fool over there."

"You've got my word on that." Alex's brilliant green eyes glowed in the lights from the dash. "Just promise me one thing."

"Yeah?"

"I screw up, pal, you come get me."

"Get going."

"Promise?"

"Will you leave if I do?"

"You have my word on it."

"For what that's worth. Okay, you got it, buddy."

Alex pressed his advantage. "I could do with some company."

Marc shook his head at his friend's persistence. "It's good to want things."

Alex hesitated then started the engine. "You know where to find me."

Yeah. He knew. Marc watched the SUV tear back down the gravel road like a bat out of hell. Alex drove the same way he attacked life. Full throttle.

He'd be back.

Marc returned to the top step of the porch as night stole over the ranch bringing with it a kind of peace he was learning to love. A horse nickered as the dust settled. The envelope Alex had left was behind him, but he never once turned to look at it.

It took him four days before he worked up the courage to open it.

Three days later word came that Alexander Stone was dead.

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