Resurrection River: Men of Mercy, Book 2 Read Free

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    Amy reached inside and forced herself to move something. Anything.
    She blinked.
    “That’s a girl. Now drink.”
    Cheri took her hand and closed her fingers around a water bottle. Amy lifted her hand, the movement feeling strange and disjointed. She took a drink of the lukewarm water.
    “Good. Now we’re going to walk forward. Focus on getting to your seat, okay?” Cheri stayed right in front of her face.
    Amy nodded. Good. Focus. Move your feet .
    Hunter still stood on her right side, her hand held on his arm. Cheri stepped to her left, took the water bottle, passed it off to Evie and took Amy’s other hand. The crowd parted, her vision tunneled on the green canopy tent about twenty feet ahead.
    “You ready?” Hunter leaned down, his six foot four inch frame dwarfing her by a good foot.
    Would she ever be ready? “Yes.”
    The trio moved forward as one. They got halfway there and Amy became aware of the silence. No more screaming news anchors. Not one sound. Like God himself had thrown a blanket of tranquility over the proceedings.
    A weak wind stirred and the black netting covering her face snagged a stray strand of hair. Dark grey clouds slung low and heavy in the summer heat. Thunder grumbled in the distance. Amy couldn’t help but peek back over her shoulder. A wall of men and women blocked the entrance to the cemetery, holding the rabid scavengers at bay.
    Tears pricked her eyes. This was why she loved a man in uniform. They weren’t afraid to show their respect. She stepped under the tent and stopped.
    The bold colors of the American flag stood out over her husband’s coffin. Colors of honor. Colors of freedom. Colors of sacrifice.
    She’d never thought they’d be the colors of death.
    She sat on a padded metal chair. Shane two feet away. Separated by two inches of wood. Patriot. Warrior. Hero. The words carved in bold script across the side of the polished mahogany coffin, gleaming even in the absence of sunlight.
    Patriot. That’s what they called the men who joined the military.
    Warrior. That’s what they called the men who fought for their country.
    Hero. That’s what they called the men who died for their country.
    Shane was a hero.
    The row of chairs behind her remained empty. No one approached. As if they were afraid to sit too close. As if death was infectious and would contaminate their lives.
    She couldn’t blame them for not getting close. Death had infected and destroyed her life with the opening of a door. Amy choked, took a breath and reigned in her control.
    She wanted to reach out. Touch him. Remember how his skin felt. But he wasn’t in that coffin. His body lay somewhere in some unknown desert, in an unmarked grave.
    “It’s your fault he joined the military. It’s your fault my son is dead.” Mavis Carter, the only person sitting in the second row of chairs, leaned forward and spewed her venom.
    Chills spread across Amy’s arms and neck.
    Cheri hissed in a breath beside her and turned to face the dragon lady. “You’re bat-shit crazy.”
    Amy didn’t turn, didn’t speak. She didn’t need to see how her over-weight mother-in-law’s bloodshot eyes glowed with hate.
    “You say another word, Mavis, and I’ll have you thrown out.” Ranger appeared not one foot away. His dress blues making him seem bigger, more threatening.
    Amy’s gaze collided with Ranger’s. Shane’s best friend. The man who’d told her of Shane’s death. He’d caught her when her knees gave out. He’d fought with her to make sure she ate and drank. He’d fought to make sure she survived.
    Now he fought for her.
    Ranger turned, his heels clicked together, and marched to the end of Shane’s coffin. Hunter took position at the other end.
    They grasped the corners of the flag lying on the coffin and lifted, keeping the flag high and tight.
    Seven soldiers in dress blues stood off to the side, their line precise. No more than a foot apart, their rifles rose in unison. They moved in perfect