Keegan (Wounded Hero Book 1)

by Marysol James

  Keegan

  (Wounded Hero #1)

  By Marysol James

  © 2020 by Marysol James.

  All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover photo: © SelfPubBookCovers.com/ BeeJavier

  Dedications

  For S. Because ‘damaged’ doesn’t mean ‘destroyed’.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  About the author

  By the same author

  Chapter 1

  As the waiter removed his empty dessert plate and refilled his coffee cup, Keegan Sinclair casually glanced around the large dining room. He told himself that he was just enjoying the relaxed, amazing vibe of Nick and Mia’s wedding reception but really, he was looking to get eyes on that cute little thing who had served him his meal. She’d started off serving at his table, but about halfway through the dinner and much to his disappointment, she’d switched over to the tables across the room.

  He’d spent the entire meal basically ignoring his plus-one and trying to sneak quick little looks at the waitress, and he’d been kind of successful. No matter how far away she was or how fleeting the glimpse, she remained a natural, eye-catching beauty.

  Her blonde hair was pulled back in a shining ponytail that swung far enough down her slim back to teasingly brush the curve of her delectable ass. Her legs were long and curvy, her movements somehow both delicate and deliberate. But what had smashed Keegan in the face and the chest hard – hard enough to make him freeze and stare at her fixedly and without any cool whatsoever – had been her eyes.

  They were an impossible color for him to describe. Not blue, not gray, not purple. Or, what he meant was, not blue or gray or purple all the time. They changed constantly depending on the light, the distance, maybe even her emotions and thoughts. Watching her eyes change color was like watching a sunset over water: with every ripple, with every passing second, you saw something new but still shimmering and so, so fucking gorgeous.

  “She’s standing over by the big window,” the woman beside him said wryly, sipping her tea. “Or – in your beloved military jargon – she’s at your six.”

  Right away, Keegan dropped the coy, disinterested act and whipped around. Yeah, there she was right behind him, pouring coffee. He stared at her for a few seconds and then when she started to look his way, he turned back to his plus-one.

  Kelly grinned at him in that aggravating way that only big sisters can pull off. OK, sure, his fraternal twin was only four minutes older than he was, but she’d held those few minutes over his head for most of their forty years on the planet. “Surprising choice for you, Kee.”

  “Why you sayin’ that?” he asked her. “You know I prefer blondes.”

  Kelly rolled her green eyes. “‘Cause you’re such a gentleman?”

  “Nah,” he responded amiably. “‘Cause brunettes are a royal pain in my ass.” He reached out and gently tugged on her sleek, chestnut waves and she grinned wider.

  “Uh-huh,” Kelly said. “So. You going to go and talk to her?”

  “And say what?” he asked.

  “I dunno. Ask her for her number?”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Kelly shook her head, sighed. Her brother was a good guy – appearances were deceiving in many cases and they sure as hell were in Keegan’s – but he was unlucky in love. Really, really unlucky, and he’d met some awful women. Women who’d been full-on interested in his dark, molten looks and tight, toned body – until they found out about his leg. Then the door didn’t so much as touch their pert little butts as they blasted out and away from her brother.

  That had made him hurt deep and hard, and in turn, that hurt had made him angry for a long time. He was finally coming back to himself, though, and Kelly eyed the blonde waitress with a speculative gaze.

  OK, admittedly Kelly didn’t think for one second that the woman over there pouring coffee was Kee’s soulmate, but why couldn’t she be a fun date? If she was smart and funny and sweet, then what the hell… maybe she’d be someone that Kee could spend time with. Maybe she’d be gentle with him, give him some confidence, get him back out there.

  Well, why not extend some hope?

  Keegan shot another hot, smoldering look over his broad shoulder at the blonde and decided to talk to her. She had an incredible smile, so warm and inviting, and he found himself oddly drawn to her.

  Yeah, OK. He’d at least say hi, ask her how her evening was going. Then, if she was receptive? He’d ask her for coffee. See where things went before telling her about his leg and asking her out on another date.

  Then the ball was in her court if she’d want to see him again… Keegan didn’t hold out many hopes that he’d get a second date (assuming he even got a first), but maybe this woman would be different from the others and she’d see Keegan, not his permanent physical damage.

  Well, why not try hoping, just for a change?

  **

  Across the room, Trish Montgomery studiously ignored the drop-dead sexy guy with the messy black hair who kept staring at her. Fuck, what an asshole. OK, sure, he was gorgeous and hot and built… but what kind of a dickhead made goo-goo eyes at the female staff with his girlfriend or wife sitting right there?

  A serious dickhead, that’s the kind. And Trish knew far, far too many of those kinds of dickheads. She knew far too many dickheads in general actually, if she really thought about it, and avoiding them was pretty paramount in her new life.

  Sadly, that wasn’t always possible nor was it easy and she never fooled herself about why that was – she never kidded herself for even one minute. Trish was, after all, the star of no fewer than seventy-four x-rated movies that were widely-distributed around the internet and hundreds of porn sites… so for all she knew, this guy with the astonishing silver eyes and bulging arms had already seen her with her clothes off. Maybe he knew her alter-ego Thalia Flame intimately – far too intimately for her comfort as she stood in the middle of a wedding wearing tailored black dress pants and a crisp white blouse.

  Maybe not, though. The hair threw the creeps off most of the time, since she’d actually been smart from the get-go and had always, always colored her flowing mane a ravishing auburn. From her first professional porn shoot, she’d been a redhead – she’d even made sure that the curtains matched the drapes. Well, she had until she’d just decided to shave it all off… that had made things much easier on the ‘dyeing-my-sensitive-bits’ front.

  She’d liked being a fiery redhead, truth be told, and although she’d been happy to go back to her natural blonde as soo
n as she’d run screaming from her porn star life about two years earlier, she kind of missed the auburn. Some mornings, in fact, it took her aback to stumble into the bathroom and see a blonde staring back at her through bleary eyes.

  Yeah, Thalia Flame was long gone. Those two fucking assholes may have hurt Thalia badly enough for her to want to die… but Trish Montgomery had actually killed her. Trish had finished what those two monsters had started, and she’d done so decisively.

  Ignoring the hot guy ogling her in front of his date, Trish smiled at the bride and groom, thinking that they looked genuinely happy. They smiled back, then the guy – Nick – whispered something to Mia and she nodded. He got to his feet, all grace and power, and extended his large hand to her. She took it, let him help her up and off they went to the dance floor.

  Trish sighed at this, maybe a bit enviously. She’d been damn lucky to land this job with the catering company, and she had exactly zero illusions about her work skills and her abilities. With her lack of formal education and her track record of working in porn full-time, she wasn’t qualified to do much more than ask people, “Chicken or fish?” and carry trays of stuff back and forth. She had no real hopes of doing much better than this, though she might get lucky and find steady work in a restaurant for decent tips. Maybe a café or a bar. At this point she’d take anything, really.

  Well. Anything except porn. Been there, done that, bought the goddam g-string.

  So, no illusions or grand expectations about her desirability as an employee. Love, though. Men and relationships and love – Trish still held out some hope and belief there, though she was starting to wonder if that was nothing but idiocy. Guys were generally pretty OK… until they almost inevitably found out what she’d done for a living before the catering gig. Then they leered, they dropped the gentleman act, they lunged for her breasts in public, they wanted to watch porn with her as the star – and they wanted to watch it with her.

  So here she stood now in the corner, just for a minute, and she watched Nick and Mia walk over to the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple. God, what she wouldn’t give for a nice guy like Nick or one of his groomsmen. Every one of them had a woman on his arm, and every one of them treated that woman like gold. Like she was precious and beautiful; like she was worth protecting and cherishing.

  Trish had never been treated that way. Not once, not ever, not by anyone.

  She sighed again, still a bit wistful, maybe even a bit defeated, and then she headed off to the kitchen to refill her heavy silver coffee pot. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the scary, glowering guy with the dark hair moving her way and she picked up the pace, desperate to duck into the kitchen and hide.

  Whatever the hell he wanted, she was sure that it wasn’t going to work out well for her. Guys who looked like him were too much – too hulking, too muscular, too good-looking, too dangerous – and they were always bad news.

  No sense hoping that this guy was going to be different than all the others.

  No sense hoping for anything from this guy, really.

  Rippling muscles and moonlight silver eyes be damned.

  Chapter 2

  Keegan watched the absolutely adorable blonde dash into the kitchen, like the hounds of hell were nipping at the heels of her flat little black shoes. He sighed a bit, leaned against the wall, looked around without much interest until he spotted Nick and Mia on the dance floor and suddenly, he was hella interested in what was going on.

  Keegan had met Nick Spencer at a group that welcomed and helped men who had lost limbs. Most of them had lost them in combat or violence of some kind, which meant that the group was largely made up of ex-military types, from every level and regiment and specialization. The group was even run by an ex-IED guy named Luke Rhodes. Luke had lost his hand when a roadside bomb had detonated while he was trying to diffuse it.

  Nick was a bit of a different case for the group, then, because he wasn’t ex-military at all. He was a local business owner in Denver, and an ex-karate title holder and martial arts teacher. But back when he’d been competing in karate, he’d had a bad break in his left tibia with lots of nerve damage and it was that injury which had ultimately ended his professional martial arts career, years before his skill level or physicality had demanded it.

  Bad enough for all of that, Keegan figured, but then the injury had morphed into a massive growth of nerve cells that had become disorganized and clumped together, into something called a neuroma. Apparently the things were excruciatingly painful and Nick had tried injections for months while also consulting specialists on how to remove the mass. And in the end, though the injections had helped with the pain somewhat, the conclusion about surgery wasn’t good: with the neuroma’s size, and the number of nerves affected, and where the clump was located, it couldn’t be treated as something local. Nick had told Keegan that there was no way to just cut into his leg and remove the mass. The only choice was for the surgeon to amputate the lower part of Nick’s left leg, under the knee.

  Nick had gone through all of that and had been taking physical therapy but coping very poorly on an emotional and psychological level, when his physical therapist had told him about Luke’s group. He’d come to a meeting and hit it off with Keegan almost immediately. In fact, Keegan thought that he’d possibly stopped Nick from making a break for it that first night, when he’d said hi to Nick as he’d lingered in the doorway, clearly hesitating.

  They’d been friends ever since. Nick and Mia had invited Keegan over for dinner, and he’d met their friends, the people who were now part of the joyous wedding party. He’d watched Nick and Mia together, seen how hard they’d struggled with their new reality, how hard they’d worked to grow together as a couple, how fiercely they’d fought to make this work, despite everything, despite the odds.

  Keegan had been touched by witnessing all of this… but in a weird way, the thing that stuck with him the most, the thing that he thought about during the long, lonely nights, the thing that made him believe that maybe – just maybe – he’d find a woman who’d be able to look past his missing leg and really, truly love him, was when Nick had come to him to ask for his help.

  He remembered it like it was yesterday, actually. Keegan had been folding up his chair after a group meeting, chatting with Luke and a few of the guys in the group, when Nick had kind of sidled up to him, trying to be all non-obvious casual, but clearly totally freaked out. Keegan had paused, cocked his dark head at his friend.

  “Hey, man,” Nick had said. “Doing OK?”

  “Ummmm.” Keegan had felt his forehead crinkle a bit at the inane question. “Yep. You?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, good.” Nick had paused. “Well… actually…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Actually…”

  “Actually what?”

  “Actually…” Nick had cleared his throat, shot a furtive look at some of the other guys who were standing nearby. “I wanted to ask you…”

  Keegan had waited. Waited some more.

  “Do you know how to dance?” Nick had blurted out suddenly, in what had definitely been a crazed moment of courage. “Like, with a woman?”

  “Uhhhhh.” Keegan had blinked a few times as he’d mentally readjusted his expectations of the conversation that they were having. “Yeah. Do you?”

  “Yeah. No. I mean… I don’t know anymore.” Nick looked down at his left leg, to the prosthesis under his jeans. “I could before this, you know? But now I have no idea how to… move. Keep my balance. And me and Mia are getting married, and we’re going to have a first dance, and…” His voice had trailed off.

  “Ahhh,” Keegan had said gently. “I get it now.”

  “So, I thought, maybe you could… I dunno. Give me some pointers how to cut a rug with this damn thing on? I figured that maybe, since you’ve had your prosthesis for – what? Four years?”

  “Just over three.”

  “Three. Sorry, man.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Nick.
Ain’t no biggie.”

  “Thanks.” Nick had sighed, and shrugged a bit. “So… I was hoping that maybe you could – could help me?”

  Keegan had grinned then. “You want me to give you dance lessons?”

  “Yeah,” Nick had said, finally relaxing. “Yeah, that’s what I want. Is that cool?”

  “Totally cool, man. It’s my life-long goddamn dream to teach an adult male to dance and here I get to achieve it finally, at the age of forty. Gonna be a good decade. When and where do we start?”

  Nick had laughed then and Keegan had liked to see it. The man had struggled hard and Keegan had well remembered that battle. It was one that he’d experienced first-hand, one that he’d wrestled to the ground with nothing but gritting-his-teeth grit and sheer bullheaded will. And if Nick needed him to teach him to dance in order to score another win in that battle, then Keegan was ready to put on a damn tutu and step up and dance his ass off.

  They’d started meeting at The Rock, the gym that Nick co-owned with his friend, Adam Pierce, a ferocious ex-boxer who was now sitting at the wedding head table in his role as Nick’s best man. Adam and Keegan had taken turns dancing with Nick, committing to the task all the way, right down to holding hands and rotating in circles for hours on end to the cheesiest music imaginable. Keegan still laughed a bit to himself when he recalled seeing Nick and Adam holding hands in a death-grip, watching those two huge guys grimly sway and spin, enjoying the experience about as much as they would a root-canal.

  At first, Nick had leaned heavily on his dance partner, which was just about the last thing that he could do to little Mia. If he did, he’d have taken her down to the floor with him and although Keegan had imagined that Nick would love to roll around on the floor with her, he didn’t want her crushed and writhing in pain under him while he did so.

  And holy hell, they’d worked. Keegan had been dizzy at times from the spinning and more than once, he’d left The Rock with his leg aching from the prosthesis rubbing against his skin. He never complained though, not once and not ever, because he and Adam traded off dancing but Nick never took a break, and also because he figured that if his leg hurt with all his years of practice with the thing, Nick had to be in agony. And Nick had never said one word.