Jasper Jacks (Heartbreakers & Heroes Book 3)

by Ciana Stone

  Copyright © 2018 Ciana Stone

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Ciana Stone

  Cover by Syneca Featherstone

  All rights reserved.

  Jasper Jacks

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Jasper Jacks Copyright © 2018 Ciana Stone

  Cover art by Syneca

  Edited by Mary Harris

  Electronic book publication January 25, 2018

  Print book publication January 15, 2018

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Syneca Featherstone

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Dedication:

  For my honeyman – I’m gonna love you forever...

  Chapter One

  “It’s more that her just being a person who doesn’t talk much,” Savannah said as Mason opened the car door for her. “Don’t you feel like there’s something…odd?”

  He shrugged, closed her door, and then opened the back door to put Tommy into his car seat. “You ready to head home, little man?”

  Tommy grinned, clapped his hands and Mason chuckled as he fastened his son into the car seat. It wasn’t until he was behind the steering wheel that he answered Savannah’s question. “Maybe odd is the wrong word.”

  “Then what’s the right one?”

  “I don’t know. Not one for small talk, maybe? I don’t know. She’s just not the chatty sort.”

  “That’s an understatement. I mean she’s very polite and if you ask her a direct question, she doesn’t blow you off or anything, but she definitely doesn’t initiate conversation.”

  “True, but that actually might be beneficial,” Mason replied and at a look from Savannah continued. “Look, the people who’ll be coming here are recovering from some bad stuff. There’s a good chance they don’t want someone around who’s too chatty. Besides, like she said, they’re the ones who need to talk. She needs to listen.”

  Savannah pursed her lips for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean any disrespect and like I said, she seems nice, but there’s just something… I don’t quite know how to explain it, but sometimes when I see her I think she’s got something tragic buried in her past that is still unresolved. She sometimes looks like I’ve felt and you know what I mean.”

  “About your grandfather and what happened? You think there’s something like that in her past?”

  “I think it’s possible. But more than that. Like, for example, why did she insist on you adding an animal rehabilitation center? What makes her think people recovering from trauma are going to want to work with wounded— And oh shit, color me embarrassed, I get it. They help something else to help themselves.”

  “Now you’re on the mark.” Mason smiled and reached over to squeeze her hand. “And from what we’ve heard about her, she knows her job. She’s just picky about where she does it.”

  “Then I guess you’re lucky to have gotten her to come here.”

  “I think so.”

  “Let’s just hope your first patient thinks so.”

  “Jasper Jacks.” Mason filled in the name. “And yeah, let’s hope so, but I don’t think we should expect too much of him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s been through hell and chances are, he’s got a lot of shit to get straight in his head before he can think of much but just making it through the day.”

  “Was it that bad?”

  “Whatever you think of as ‘that bad,’ multiply it by a hundred.”

  “Do you think you and Dr. Whitestone can help him? Ouch, slow down there, girl.” She rubbed her pregnant belly.

  “I hope so.” Mason replied and reached over to put his hand on her belly. Savannah was at the end of her second trimester and their little girl was one active baby. His touch always seemed to quiet the baby. “I sure hope so.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She placed her hand on top of his. “And so do I.” She meant it. This was Mason’s dream and she wanted it to succeed. He and Grady had worked hard getting Mason’s old family home fixed up. They’d renovated the house, added on two new wings, and build what almost amounted to a community of homes for staff and employees.

  There were several small two-bedroom homes for people working in the medical center, including Dr. Whitestone. Along with that were additional cabins for the ranch foreman, workers with family, and even was a bunkhouse for the single men Grady had hired to take care of the small herd of cows and half a dozen horses. He’d even hired a widow, Mrs. Karen Simpson, to handle the cooking and housekeeping chores. He and Mason wanted this to be a working ranch as well as a rehabilitation center and that required employees.

  They’d also purchased land adjacent to the original homestead and had hired half a dozen people for farming. In all, they now employed fifteen people besides themselves. Savannah had put a goodly sum into the project and hoped it paid off. Not for her, but for the people who worked there and the ones who came for healing.

  If nothing else, animals would be healed. Dr. Whitestone had been on-site for a month, getting things set up to her satisfaction, and had taken in half a dozen injured, wounded, or sick animals. According to Mason, it was almost magical watching her work with an animal and seeing the affinity between them.

  Etta Whitestone certainly was an interesting and unusual woman. This was the third time Savannah had been around her and so far, she couldn’t say she’d hit it off with the woman. She looked into the side mirror and saw the doctor standing in the yard of Sanctuary, watching them drive away. Savannah wondered what Etta Whitestone was thinking.

  *****

  As much as she hated it, she just wasn’t yet comfortable with Mason’s wife. Savannah was a beautiful woman, smart and kind, but Etta got the feeling that Savannah was more empathic than she realized. There were times when Etta could sense Savannah’s curiosity almost like a touch in her mind.

  And if she could feel it, perhaps Savannah could as well. That both intrigued and concerned Etta. Savannah obviously had things in her past she kept secret. It wasn’t difficult for Etta to sense that. Could that be the cause of her unease every time Savannah was at Sanctuary?

  Maybe it was that old “be careful around shrinks” thing some people had. They assumed a psychiatrist was always evaluating them. Maybe, in time, Savannah would become more comfortable, but then Etta didn’t imagine Savannah would be spending a lot of time at Sanctuary. She had a family, a writing career and from what Etta had heard, a successful business to run in town. Not to mention a baby less than a year old and another on the way.

  Etta wat
ched the car until it was out of sight and then made her way to the medical wing. As she walked, she turned her thoughts to her own business. She liked that Mason and Grady had built a special wing onto the house for exams and treatment. It kept the house itself feeling homelike. And it made it easier for her to keep drugs under lock and key.

  No matter how much people suffering from PTSD or other kinds of trauma wanted to heal, some came to depend on drugs for comfort and often found themselves willing to do things they wouldn’t ordinarily when they were denied access to, or were being weaned off drugs.

  The best thing for everyone was to keep that part of things separate from their daily living routine. Besides, she didn’t much believe in prescribing drugs. They only masked pain and trauma, they didn’t cure, and she was one hundred percent devoted to true healing.

  That thought prompted her to take a seat at her desk and access the patient files on her computer for Jasper Jacks. He was due to arrive in two days and she was more than a little apprehensive.

  As she read the information again, she wondered if this case wasn’t something of a test by fire. Not whether Jasper Jacks was capable of overcoming what he’d suffered, but whether she’d find the key to making that desire uppermost for him.

  Etta had treated hundreds of cases of PTSD and had worked with hundreds of military personnel who’d returned home missing limbs from IEDs, or wounds so serve that amputation was the only way of saving their lives. She’d worked with people who bore no outward scars, but would carry mental wounds the rest of their lives.

  Through every one of those cases, she’d maintained a steadfast belief that healing wasn’t just a possible outcome but a probable one. She committed one hundred percent to every patient she treated and invested her mental, physical, and emotional energy into their healing.

  Some might say, and had, that she gave too much of herself and that was why, in her personal life, she was so shut down. Etta didn’t disagree. She knew she poured her heart and soul into every case. It was the only way she knew how to heal and healing had been her desire since she was five years old.

  If it cost her a personal life, then maybe that was just the way it was supposed to be. She didn’t have a good track record with relationships anyway, so perhaps she was better off focusing on her work.

  Yes, her work was enough. At least, that’s what she told herself every day to stave off the loneliness when twilight fell and the people she worked with went home to husbands and wives and families and she went home to whatever next patient, human or animal, needed her.

  It’s enough. It’s enough, she repeated to herself, refusing to let self-pity seep in. She, like every other person alive, was where she was in her life because of the choices she’d made. Good or bad, right or wrong, she owned those choices and their consequences.

  The fact that she was in her mid-thirties and alone bore testament to the fact that she’d not made good decisions when it came to men. If she had, she might be like Savannah. Married to a man she was crazy about and starting a family.

  But that wasn’t where her choices had led her. Hers had led her here, to a place where people wanted to create an environment of healing and where past mistakes could be forgiven. She was grateful for the opportunity and determined not to fail. This gave her something positive to focus her energy on and she desperately needed that.

  In two days, that focus would be on Jasper Jacks, but until then, there were animals in rehab who required attention. Etta exited the patient files, set the lock on the system, and headed for the animal rehab center.

  Had someone pointed out that she didn’t have to be focused on work every minute of the day and she was young enough to meet someone and share a life, she would have smiled and nodded, then ignored the suggestion. She wasn’t here to find a man. Her last relationship had ended six years ago, and she didn’t know if she’d be interested in having another.

  Ever.

  Chapter Two

  JJ climbed out of the passenger seat of Grady’s double cab truck and took a long look around. This wasn’t what he’d expected, but then to be honest, he hadn’t known quite what to expect.

  This part of Texas, according to Grady, was prime cattle country and also good for farming. Sanctuary was, at one time, a family farm owned by Mason James’ family. Mason was a spy. Well, to be correct, a retired spy. Once he retired, he wanted to do something to help military people so he and Grady, with the help of Mason’s wife who was apparently quite wealthy, fixed up the homestead, added on, and hired a staff to start a treatment center and halfway home of sorts.

  JJ wasn’t quite sure he was a good fit for such a place. He didn’t cotton to the idea of talking about what happened to him with a stranger and sure as heck didn’t want to discuss how it made him feel.

  Hell, he hadn’t had a handle on how he felt since the day he’d escaped hell. He didn’t know whether to shoot himself or someone else half the time and didn’t know how to find balance.

  The only thing he knew for sure is that he wasn’t going to be allowed to return to active duty until this Dr. Whitestone cleared him. He needed that to happen. Fast. If he didn’t get back into the action, he was likely to fly apart.

  “Guess it’s a far cry from where you grew up in Kentucky,” Grady said as he walked around the truck to where Jasper stood.

  “That it is, sir.”

  “Drop the sir, JJ. We’re off duty here.”

  “Are we?” JJ turned his head to look at Grady. Correction, to look up. Grady was one big man. One of the biggest SEALs Jasper had ever met. Contrary to what civilians imagined, size wasn’t a factor in becoming a SEAL, nor was it the biggest benefit. Still, it would take either someone with a death wish or just dumb as a rock to square off at Grady Judd.

  Despite that, Grady was a man who generated a sense of security. Just being around him gave you the sense that everything was going to work out. He was a man who inspired trust and respect and JJ was proud to know him.

  “We are,” Grady assured him. “I’m asking you to trust me on this, JJ. You want a shot at active duty, then you pass muster here. You feel me, bro?”

  “I do. And I will.”

  “Never had a doubt.” Grady clapped a hand on top of JJ’s shoulder. “Okay, buddy, you ready to get this show on the road?”

  “As I’ll get.” JJ fetched his duffel from the back seat of the truck and accompanied Grady to the front door of the main house.

  It opened before they reached the steps leading up onto the wide porch. “Hey Grady,” Mason James greeted Grady first and then looked at JJ. “Welcome, Jasper—sorry, you prefer JJ, right? Come on in.”

  Half an hour later, JJ had seen the entire spread and been introduced to more people than he could remember their names. Everyone but the doctor. “Where’s Dr. Whitestone?” Mason asked the big male nurse, Dillon Barnes.

  “She said to send JJ to the animal rehab compound when you’re ready to cut him loose.”

  “You remember where the compound is?” Mason asked JJ.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then head on over.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That wasn’t an order,” Mason said in a kind tone.

  “Yeah, actually it was. I have to pass class here if I want to get back to my unit so what you say is an order.”

  “But—”

  JJ could tell Mason was uncomfortable with that. “Don’t let it concern you, Mr. James. I’ve been taking orders since the day I enlisted.”

  “Still, it’s not an order, but I hear what you’re saying and you’re right. You do have to pass class. I and the rest of the staff are here to help you get there, so for the time you’re here, how about you consider us part of your unit?”

  “And where does the doctor fit in?”

  “The leader of this unit. The one who gives the grades.”

  “Then I’ll head over and see the doc. Grady? Be seeing you.”

  “Indeed, you will.” Grady took JJ’s hand for a
firm shake.

  JJ nodded and headed in the direction of the compound they called the animal rehab. It was basically a big barn with fencing all around it and individual pens under the shelter of overhangs on two sides.

  He knocked on the door, but no one answered so he walked around to the side, found a gate, and let himself into the fence that formed an outer perimeter. The pens along the side of the barn held a fawn, a wild pig, two coyotes, and on the end, a young bobcat.

  Just as JJ was about to turn the corner, something small and fast blasted around the corner of the building, made a funny chatter when it almost collided with him, and then rocketed away. He turned his head to follow its trail.

  An armadillo. That thought had no more than registered in his mind when someone collided into him and sent them both stumbling to stay on their feet.

  “Shit! Sorry.” The woman grabbed JJ’s arm for support, righted herself, and then took off in pursuit of the armadillo. “Arny, you little shit, get back here!”

  JJ didn’t quite know what to make of it. The woman was moving at a full-on run after the armadillo and it was making tracks. All of a sudden, the woman launched herself into the air and dove at the critter.

  The expulsion of air on her impact was audible even to JJ. So was the curse that spilled from her lips when her hands slipped off the armadillo and it scampered away. That didn’t stop the woman. She scrambled to her feet, picked up the pace, and caught up with the armadillo enough that she could run crouched over and hands out.

  It took four tries and three more falls before she successfully had the armadillo in hand. “Ah ha! Gotcha, you little varmint.”

  With that, she turned and started back to the barn. She stopped when she reached JJ. “Can I help you?”

  He took a step back. There was one nasty smell coming from the armadillo. “Did that thing get skunked?”

  “No, that’s pretty much his natural smell.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m looking for Dr. Whitestone.”