Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four

by Myers, Shannon

  I ran my knuckles up and down between her shoulder blades until her retching turned to dry heaves. She ran the arm of her sweatshirt over her mouth before rocking back onto her heels. “Let me guess,” she muttered. “You’ve probably never thrown up after a kill.”

  My lips curved up into a smirk. “You guessed right. How do you feel?”

  She took my hand and let me pull her back onto her feet before looking up at me with the stubborn expression I’d come to know and love.

  My bloodstained goddess.

  “I want to kill him over and over until it takes away the memories of what he did to me.”

  I nodded and led her out of the room. “Ain’t no kill in the world that can erase that. There are times when I close my eyes and I swear I can still feel my old man’s fists on my ribs; can even smell the stench of liquor on his breath.”

  “What do you do?” Her hand curled around mine.

  “I fight it; remind myself that he’s gone. Now…” I turned to her once we reached the hallway. “You did good in there, but you and I both know that he wasn’t any real threat. The next time might not be as easy, but you gotta be willin’ to put him down just the same.”

  With a sigh, I added, “And if I’m tellin’ you to do somethin’, fuckin’ listen. You can’t act in rage. That’s a damn good way to get yourself hurt or killed. I showed you exactly how to handle the knife, but you let your emotions cloud your judgment, and it showed.”

  Celia’s lips mashed together for a brief second before she responded. “I was listening to you. I did exactly what you said—”

  My frustration increased. “You’re just lucky you killed him with your first strike. This ain’t fuckin’ karate where you can tap out or whatever it is they let you do. You fuck up like you did back there and it’ll be like the motel all over again, but next time, I might not be there to save you! Are we clear?”

  Where I’d expected an argument or at the very least, an outburst, she remained quiet; watching me through narrowed eyes.

  “Celia,” I pushed, needing her compliance.

  “We’re clear.”

  “Good.” I’d just put my hand on the door handle leading upstairs when she took my legs out from under me, sending me down to the concrete in a tangle of limbs.

  “It’s jiu-jitsu,” she panted, planting her hands on my chest. “Not fucking karate. And, as you can see, it’s highly effective.”

  She tugged the bloody sweatshirt up and over her head, lifting just enough to tug her jeans down past her wide hips, but not enough for me to move.

  “Celia?”

  “Don’t move,” she commanded, kicking her sandals off and freeing her legs from the denim. My heart thumped painfully against my chest at the sight of her tight nipples and feel of her pussy grinding against the front of my jeans. “Are we clear?”

  The sound of her voice was muffled by the blood rushing in my ears, and she lowered her head, letting her teeth graze against my shoulder. “Jamie…”

  I nodded, and her fingernails dug into the center of my chest. “Answer me.”

  “Understood,” I bit out. She was using my words against me, but I couldn’t say a goddamn thing out of fear that she’d suddenly stop.

  I’d been wrong.

  About all of it.

  Killing Manny was never going to bring her peace, but I’d assumed it’d at least help with the next stage of her healing. Instead, I’d set her monster free and worked her up into a frenzy of lust.

  Same as me.

  Her delicate hands moved down to my jeans, yanking the belt buckle away from my body as she worked to unfasten it. The sound of my zipper coming down was punctuated by the short bursts of air she was exhaling, and I ached to sink my fingers into the flesh of her ass, forcing her to let me lead. The only thing stopping me from making my move was the desperate need reflected in her eyes.

  Freed from the confines of denim, my cock sprang up into her waiting hand, and she gave it a rough tug before rolling her hips forward. Her head fell back in a loud moan as she sank down over me, flooding the space between us with her juices.

  “Fuck,” I forced out through clenched teeth.

  As if reading my mind, Celia reached for my hands, bringing them up to cup her ass cheeks. The truth from the books I’d read barreled through my mind.

  Intimacy with a victim should be done in a well-lit setting where there are no reminders of the assault.

  Any objections I had died on my lips when the muscles of her cunt clamped down around me like a vice.

  My wife was fucking me on the concrete floor of a dimly lit hallway, less than ten feet from the rapist she’d just put down.

  There wasn’t a single book in the entire goddamn world that could help me navigate that.

  “I need,” she pleaded with a whimper. “I just—please…”

  “Who’s in charge here?”

  “Me,” she whispered, her teeth sinking down onto her lower lip, begging.

  Knowing what she needed, I pulled my hand away before bringing it down in a punishing slap against her ass. She immediately tightened around me with a soft moan before bucking her hips, as if begging for more.

  “Good girl.” I brought my palm down again and again until the pleas became moans and her cream coated my cock. She came with a strangled gasp, and I gripped her hips, pulling her up and off of me.

  “Celia,” I groaned as my orgasm ripped through me, fisting my cock before coating her tits and belly.

  Her eyes went heavy, and she leaned forward, placing her head against my chest with a contented sigh. She hadn’t once questioned my decision to pull out.

  Maybe we both knew that neither one of us would survive it a second time.

  We were in the middle of a fucking war; a war that had been going on for years. If I wanted to keep her safe, I couldn’t put her body at risk. I’d failed her once. The breath would leave my body before I failed her again.

  “Jamie,” she whispered a few minutes later. “Are you awake?”

  I chuckled as the concrete dug into my spine. “This ain’t exactly a bed we’re layin’ on, princess.”

  Her palms moved to the floor and she pushed herself up into a sitting position, a sly grin playing on her lips. “I can’t believe we did it.”

  “You, darlin’.” I brought my hand up over one of her breasts and squeezed. “It was all you.”

  “And we got a confession!”

  I frowned, fighting to get the blood back up to my brain. Manny hadn’t given us one goddamn thing. “Think you and I might be rememberin’ things a little differently.”

  She shook her head, her grin widening. “No, he said I’d know where to find them. He was right, I do.”

  “How?”

  “The same way I did before… at the blackjack table.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Celia: 2006

  I slammed the car door shut and jogged up the front porch steps with a wide grin.

  “What do you think?” I asked, doing a little twirl under the porch light for the biker on the swing.

  Jamie leaned back against it and looked me up and down before blowing a stream of smoke toward the yard. “I don’t like it.”

  My grin faded. “The dress?”

  “The fuckin’ plan, Celia. We been chasin’ underground games for over a year; danglin’ you in front of their faces like bait. I can’t fuckin’ do it anymore.”

  “But I feel like we’re getting closer—”

  He shook his head. “No, we ain’t. All we’ve managed to do is make your attacks worse. You tell me how you fightin’ to take a goddamn breath in the middle of a game is us gettin’ closer.”

  I wanted to believe that I’d left all of the fear and hurt from that night out in the middle of the orchard, but I hadn’t. He was right. The brokenness had only risen to the surface, rearing its ugly head at the most inopportune of times.

  The faintest whiff from a cigar at the first game had left me hyperventilating in the ba
throom, forcing the prospect-turned-bodyguard to call Jamie in.

  During the games I managed to sit through, I found myself easily distracted and restless, convinced that I was being watched.

  It was obvious that whatever card skills I’d possessed before were long gone now.

  “What are we supposed to do then?” I snapped. “Let them get away again?”

  He patted the empty seat next to him on the swing, but I stayed by the railing, keeping my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Celia, your head ain’t in the game. You’re sloppy and unfocused—”

  “I’m doing the best I can right now!” A small part of me was relieved that he was calling it off; that he was doing what I couldn’t, before I remembered my anger.

  “Who has the girls tonight?” It was impossible to miss the irritation in his voice, but it was laced with something else too.

  Worry.

  “Angel. He was already planning on stopping by for dinner, so it worked out.”

  He took a long drag and gnawed on the corner of his lip before admitting, “There ain’t a game tonight.”

  “What?” I laughed, but the sound was hollow. “But you told me to come out here—you said—”

  Jamie stubbed out the cigarette and bent over, resting his elbows on his knees before cupping the back of his head with his hands. “Fuck,” he growled. “Don’t wanna fuckin’ do this, princess.”

  “Then don’t. I’ll go by myself,” I snapped before turning away. I hadn’t even taken a step when I felt him at my back. His body moved behind mine, wrapping me up in a bear hug and sending flames shooting down my arms.

  “Let me go,” I fought to keep my voice steady.

  It wasn’t often, but there were times when he caught my shoulder or pulled me into his arms, and I was struck with the realization that he was a giant. If he ever decided to use his strength against me, I’d be powerless to stop him.

  He spun me around to face him before letting his hands fall away. “Ain’t lettin’ you leave. You came all this way; let’s play a game together.”

  “You wanted me to come out here so we could play board games?”

  His bottom lip went between his teeth again, as if he was considering his options. “Not board games. Blackjack. Your skills are rusty; only way to get better is to practice, yeah?”

  “Are we playing for money? If so, I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

  Jamie scratched at his jaw. “Tell you what. Let’s play for braggin’ rights. Nothin’ else. Main goal is gettin’ you ready to play the tables again, okay?”

  I was certain I resembled Kate as I halfheartedly shrugged before mumbling a bored, “I guess.”

  A blackjack card table sat in the middle of the living room with two chairs on either side, and I looked up at him with a glare. “It looks like maybe you were planning this, Jamie.”

  “What can I say, darlin’? I wanna help you. Sit.”

  He took the dealer’s seat and pushed a stack of chips over to me. “Each one’s worth a grand.”

  I pushed two into the betting circle, and Jamie began shuffling the deck. I wasn’t sure what he thought we were going to accomplish. We were in a controlled environment where I could stay one hundred percent focused.

  He placed an ace and a two in front of me.

  “Soft thirteen. And the dealer shows a four.” He reached inside his leather vest and pulled out a cigar, popping it into his mouth to wet the head before holding it up in front of me.

  “Now…” he flicked his lighter. “Most people don’t know this, but you can’t smoke one of these babies like a cigarette. You gotta ignite the end like this…”

  I ran a hand through my hair and scratched at my throat as he slowly rotated the cigar over the flame. He took several puffs before pulling it back out for inspection.

  “Sometimes, it don’t light correctly, and you gotta do it again. Don’t want it burnin’ unevenly.”

  I grimaced as the smoke reached my nostrils, and my eyes began to sting. “Jamie,” my voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Soft thirteen, darlin’. Hit or stay?” He took another puff before exhaling the smoke rings toward my face.

  Paralysis took the wheel, keeping me glued to my seat even as the first tear fell. My breaths became agonizing wheezes as I saw Cobra, sitting in the corner of my bedroom, watching and waiting for me in the dark.

  You don’t mind if I smoke inside, do you?

  I jerked, pushing the chair back across the hardwood as I fought to get to my feet. Jamie calmly reached across the table and placed his hand over mine. “Look at me.”

  I reluctantly forced my eyes up to meet his, feeling like I was looking at a stranger. He’d been at that first game; had seen firsthand what the scent had done to me. “W-why?”

  “Who’s in control?” He gently reminded me.

  “You,” I said flatly, fighting against the emotion that was clogging my throat and obscuring my vision.

  He tapped the deck of cards with his free hand and shook his head. “I ain’t the one callin’ the shots. You are. Now, focus. You gonna hit or stay?”

  “I hate you,” I choked, back to being the broken woman lying on a bathroom floor, praying for help.

  Weak.

  I’d thought he could be different this time.

  Thought we could be different.

  There was always going to be a chasm between us, though. Jamie had told me he couldn’t be gentle with me; had insisted that he wasn’t the man I needed. Yet, I’d stupidly convinced myself that I would make it work because I didn’t believe that anyone would ever love me like he did.

  “Hit. Or. Stay?” He questioned as he pulled his hand back, eyes flashing dangerously.

  “Hit.”

  That was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Pummeling a skull-shaped hole into my heart?

  He dropped the card with another puff on the cigar. “Six. Brings you up to nineteen.”

  Turning his second card over, he added, “And four makes eight for the dealer.” He dealt a third card and exclaimed, “An ace makes nineteen, princess. Push.”

  I ignored his smile. The bond that had connected us for seventeen years was stretched taut, ready to snap at any second.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Jamie dropped his chin to his chest, blinking rapidly, before looking back up at me. It was then that I saw the tears. “Who’s in control here?” He asked gruffly before clearing his throat.

  “Just tell me why you’re doing this to me. Please.”

  “Let’s go again.”

  “No.” The chair legs squeaked loudly against the floor as I moved back. “I thought you cared… thought you loved me enough to never—I’m leaving. Don’t call me—”

  His hand latched onto my arm, tugging me back toward the table and the edges of my vision swam in black.

  It was happening again.

  Except, this time, it’d be worse, because it was him.

  “Where are you right now?” Jamie asked, keeping me from slipping into unconsciousness. “What do you see?”

  “I—can’t…”

  He dropped the cigar into the ashtray and moved around the table toward me. “You can. Who’s in charge?”

  “You are, don’t you see that?” I roared, my face crumpling in anguish. “You’re breaking me apart, just like they did.”

  “What’d I say on the porch? Hmm? You remember me sayin’ I didn’t want to do this? What do you think I meant?”

  I swiped a hand over my damp face. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to play this game anymore. I want to go home.”

  “You are home.” He released my arm and lowered himself to his knees. “I’m tryin’ to help you the only other way I know how. Close your eyes.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t.”

  “C’mon, Celia. Do you trust me?”

  Against my better judgment, I did as he asked, gulping back another sob.

  “What do you smell?” It was
apparent he was waving the cigar in front of my face, and I mashed the back of my hand to my lips, fighting the urge to vomit.

  “I smell… him.”

  “Who?” he pushed.

  “Cobra.”

  “What’s he doin’?”

  My skin burned red hot as I was forced back into hell. “He,” I licked my lips. “He’s in the chair in the bedroom, watching me—” I clutched the front of my dress in my fist. “He tore my dress… and his teeth—”

  My turn.

  “What three cards did you just have?” He asked, blowing a puff of warm cigar smoke toward my face.

  “I—an ace—” I tried picturing the table but could only see Cobra sitting in the dealer’s chair, smirking down at me. I pushed myself. “T-two and a six.”

  “Good girl,” he praised. “Now, think about what I had. Can you remember?”

  I hiccuped loudly, and his hand covered mine. “You had two fours and a—”

  You’re doin’ great, sweetheart. Absolutely fuckin’ perfect.

  I cried out, bucking against the hand on mine. It was too much. Short bursts of air escaped my nostrils, sounding almost like panting.

  Their panting.

  I shuddered and slumped forward in the chair with a strangled gasp.

  When I opened my eyes, I was in Jamie’s lap on the floor. He tilted my chin up, watching me with eyes that were dark and unreadable.

  “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “I can’t make myself be normal—I don’t want to be broken like this—”

  “Don’t fuckin’ apologize to me. You ain’t broken. A broken woman wouldn’t have gone after a gangbanger on her own. A broken woman wouldn’t have forced herself to confront her own demons. Nah, you ain’t broken, darlin’. You’re a motherfuckin’ warrior.”

  The cigar lay on the floor near his boot, and I stared down at it in disgust. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life cowering in fear. Pulling away from his grip, I reached for it with trembling fingers. “This isn’t about the game, is it?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “By the time you sent Manny to the Reaper, he was broken down. Before that, though, he wanted me to know everything he’d done to you; everything he wanted to do to our girls. Hawk and Cobra will be the same.”