No Mercy Read Online Free Page A

is it?”
    “I told you. A club.”
    What type of “club,” besides a gang, made potential pledges commit illegal acts?
    None.
    “Besides, it don’t matter now,” Levi added. “I got caught. They ain’t gonna let me in. Can we go? Shoonga’s been cooped up all day. Probably ripping the place apart.”
    Shoonga was Levi’s corgi, a gift from Dad on Levi’s seventh birthday. While Levi had debated on what to name his new pet, Sophie and Jake had taken to calling the unruly pup the Lakota word for dog, which stuck.
    That was the only year I’d been home for Levi’s birthday. Now, as I watched my nephew and the surly teenager he’d become, I wondered what’d happened to the boy with the ready grin and sweet disposition.
    I half listened while Hope harangued Levi for another minute, which seemed to last an hour. When Levi began kicking the oak molding again, I said, “Enough. Take him home. Make sure you call the sheriff.”
    Levi shot me a grateful look. It shocked me. Maybe getting arrested had been a good thing for him. For us all.
    Hope twirled her keys and brushed past me. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
    No good-bye. No thanks. No surprise.
    Sophie didn’t stick around after she’d made me supper. I could’ve terminated her employment after Dad’s funeral—as a single woman I didn’t need full-time help in the form of a maid and a cook. I insisted on washing my own clothes and cleaning my space upstairs. But Sophie had taken care of our family since my mother’s death, and she’d struggle without the salary we paid her. In some ways, it’d be like throwing her out of her own house.
    I wandered through the main floor, at loose ends. I hadn’t revived my TV habits since I’d been home from the war because I couldn’t stand watching the news. Protestors and pundits and pansy-asses blathering on about what we were doing wrong over there—without having stepped a goddamn foot on foreign sand. They had no idea what it was like spending a night waiting for the patrols to return, not knowing which one of your fellow soldiers was headed home in a flag-draped coffin.
    I had no interest in reading the thriller Sophie had bought at Besler’s grocery. I had lived that edge-of-your-seat thrill ride every damn day, and it wasn’t nearly as fun as depicted in fiction.
    Sadly, no lover waited in the wings for my call. Too early for bed. Too late to head into Rapid City to catch a movie. When in doubt, I exercised. I laced on my running shoes and took off.
    The gravel road in front of our place has little traffic in the early evening. I hated to run. But there’s nothing like it for keeping in aerobic shape. At times my life depended on being able to make a quick getaway.
    But I almost stopped when I realized it was the worst time of day for me to see. Hazy purple twilight: not quite day, not quite night. I’ve always taken my perfect eyesight for granted. I never believed my body could fail me. Or medical science couldn’t cure what ailed me.
    Retinal detachment . The words were like shrapnel in my soul.
    It’d come as a total shock when black shadows obscured the vision in my right eye. I’d been alone in Hilah, two days away from medical help. By the time I made it back to camp, a shrapnel wound and severe dehydration accompanied the eye injury.
    Luckily, a Mobil Ophthalmic Surgical Team (MOST) performed the surgery on my eye immediately. Chances were good I wouldn’t completely lose my eyesight, a better prognosis than initially expected. I should feel thankful.
    Instead, I felt restless. There was no gray area in my field of expertise. Either I was 100 percent or I’d be reassigned to a military desk/teaching job.
    Or I could take my twenty and retire. Put my skills to use in the real world. Problem was, there isn’t a big market for female snipers.
    With my assorted injuries, the loss of my career, the grief and stress of losing my father, and my having to make a decision on the ranch, I doubted