Trusting Xavier

by Casey Hagen

  He turned her in his arms, his gun aimed over her shoulder right at the doc, his cold eyes roaming over her face. “So hard to find good help these days. They left you too pretty.”

  He grabbed her throat, squeezing until she had no choice but to raise her chin in the air to breathe.

  From the corner of her eye, she spotted Emma and the gun now aimed at Laramie’s chest.

  “You just keep that gun aimed right at her head in case she gets any ideas,” Jackson instructed Emma. “You didn’t forget me now, did you?” he asked Laramie as he nuzzled his face against her jaw.

  “Fuck you, Jackson,” she whispered as loud as she could. Her eyes watered as her throat spasmed against his hand.

  “Maybe that’s what you want. You miss me, sweetheart. I could bend you over right here. The guy with you looks like he might just be up to watching that. What do you think?”

  She hated that the doc was bearing witness to this. Hearing the things Jackson said to her as he tried to humiliate her. This would forever be a part of their past now, this memory, this nightmare—as long as they lived.

  Instinct told her to play it smart, to play his game, but at the heart of her, she wanted to humiliate him back, to push his buttons, make him lose control—and maybe, just maybe the doc could get a clean shot.

  Jackson’s grip loosened on her throat just enough, and she smiled at him, the same lazy smile she delivered after sex, designed to convince him that she was playing for his team.

  His eyes widened and he smiled. “You always were the best one. That tight little pussy of yo—”

  She jerked forward, gathered every bit of moisture in her mouth, and spit in his face.

  Jackson’s skin turned a mottled purple, but he didn’t lose his focus. He hissed between his clenched teeth but licked away the spit that sprayed on his lips. His wild eyes locked on hers, and she knew she’d gotten to him.

  For a brief moment, her gaze landed on a small door in the wall of the bathroom. The hatch to the tunnel that connected to communications tower at the old air field. The tunnel that was supposed to be impassable.

  He grabbed her hair, yanked her head, and spun her back so she faced the doc.

  She squinted against the pain shooting through her head, but when the haze cleared, Lucas, with one hand wrapped around the railing, slid into view, his pistol ready.

  “Not one step further,” Jackson said, abandoning his aim at the doc and instead jamming his pistol against her throat under the edge of her jaw. “You might kill me, but not before you see her pretty little face splatter against the ceiling.”

  The air grew thick, their breathing the only sound—

  Ziiiiiiiiiip!

  She stiffened at the sound of Jackson’s zipper behind her, knowing what came next. She’d rather die than have him touch her ever again, than have Jackson raping her be the last memory of her the doc and her brother had of her.

  The doc took a small step to the right; Lucas took a small step to the left, barely noticeable and not giving them enough of an edge to stop Jackson from what he meant to do.

  Bile rose in her throat at the feel of Jackson aroused, rubbing against her. Tears burned her eyes as she forced herself to push back against him as if she liked it.

  From the corner of her eye she spotted Emma, still holding the gun but flinching at what was about to unfold before her.

  And giving Laramie an open.

  “You do like that, don’t you, baby? Or is it just because your brother joined the party? Maybe you like it fucked up and dirty like that.”

  She slid two fingers along her stomach, found the slot on the first try, and hooked her thumb into the loop on the handle of the knife. Slipping it from the pocket, she ground against him again.

  He growled behind her ear. “I’m going to give you one last fuck, right here. And then I’m going to put a bullet in your head. You hear me?”

  “I hear you.” She blinked at the doc, made sure his eyes were on hers, and clicked the button. She started to bring her arm up even as she caught the other side of the handle when the knife flipped open and locked into place.

  Gripping it in her palm, blade pointed behind her, she put every last bit of power into her swing and prayed she wouldn’t miss her mark.

  With a quick shift of her hips to the side, exposing Jackson’s favorite body part, she buried the cold metal into soft flesh.

  Jackson’s animalistic scream of pain pierced her eardrum. His grip slipped, and she dove at Emma. Behind her, one shot rang out, just one—the screaming dead on Jackson’s lips as the doc went for the kill shot just like she told him.

  Reaching Emma, they fell to the ground, Laramie’s hand around the barrel of the gun, pushing it into the air.

  Emma’s head cracked against the bunk, and another shot rang out, the barrel searing Laramie’s fingers. The ricochet echoed through the bunker followed by a grunt of pain.

  The doc’s eyes met hers, then his gaze dropped to his ripped shirt and a spot of blood where the bullet caught the edge of his arm.

  Laramie scrambled to her feet, pushing past Lucas as he checked for a pulse on Jackson. “Doc,” she whispered, reaching for the wound.

  “Leave it. It’s a flesh wound,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “You said I was too pretty anyway.” His chest rumbled with the words.

  Feet pounded down the stairs as the men poured in, guns drawn. Dylan, Wolf, and Zane scanned the room and spotted Jackson on the floor, their shoulders relaxing but their eyes wincing at the man dead on the floor.

  Wolf shook his head. “Not a good way to go.”

  “I don’t know; it was brief. Looks like Thorne here put him right out of his misery,” Dylan said with a grin.

  “Jake taught her that. I don’t know if he should get a raise or therapy,” Zane said.

  Lucas glanced up from where he crouched next to Emma. “We need to get her to the hospital.”

  “The men? Are they—” Laramie began.

  “They’re good. A couple of flesh wounds, but nothing to worry about,” Wolf assured her.

  She sagged against the doc’s chest and closed her eyes. “Let’s go home.”

  Epilogue

  “Hey, whatcha doin’?” Laramie asked from the doorway of their bedroom.

  The sun spilling in the entryway behind her filtered through the filmy sundress that covered her bikini. Her eyes glowed—hell, all of her glowed—as she tipped the glass of lemonade to her lips.

  The banker’s box sat on the floor in front of him as indecision twisted in his gut. Cold sweat trickled down his spine at the thought of opening it again.

  It had been a year since they’d rescued the women in the bunker.

  Harland had turned over a mountain of evidence that put sixty-three people behind bars from street thugs, police officers, the district attorney, and even a senator. He quit his job but made sure he went to court. Other than that, he’d made himself scarce, retreating with his daughter, the pain of losing his wife haunting him daily.

  Xavier got it. Harland had demons to fight, and he’d have to do them on his own timeline as he did his best to raise that redheaded little girl who looked like the spitting image of his wife.

  So much life had happened since the rescue, and neither of them wanted to waste one more minute on the past. They’d quietly gotten married on the beach. They’d bought a house. Harmony now had her cochlear implants and was learning to talk. She’d called him daddy for the first time just that morning over breakfast, as casual as can be, the word the most precious gift she could give him, and the most painful.

  That one word brought him here. To the floor where he stared down at his own demon. He’d faced this particular fight before, but it looked like he would do it again, and maybe again still until it didn’t hurt so much.

  “Where’s Harmony?” he asked.

  She pushed away from the wall and padded on her bare feet over to him. “She’s playing with Brielle and Tyler at Lucas’ house. I kn

ow I was skeptical about living on the same street, but it was a good idea. I’m glad you talked me into it. Of course, that means they could come screaming through the door at any minute since they can practically run from yard to yard.”

  “They can come screaming through the door whenever they want. Come here, sit with me,” he said, holding her hand as she eased herself down to the floor.

  Settling in, her hand went right to her gently rounded belly, and for just a moment, he laid his hand over hers, terrified of what was to come in four months, but so damn grateful for a second chance at being a husband and a father that he’d face it head-on. No matter what.

  Which meant facing the box. He cleared his throat. “This is all that’s left of my other life.”

  Her eyes softened, and she turned her hand over, lacing her fingers with his. “I’m right here with you, Doc.”

  Jesus…she always knew the right thing to say and to do. She recognized when he needed space to take it all in and when he needed her to take his hand and drag him into life with her. No judgments, no arguments about how he needed to change, just unwavering support.

  He flipped the top of the box and started down at the owl encased in plastic. He reached past it, needing a minute to just look at his little girl, forever frozen in time, and picked up his favorite picture of his daughter on his shoulders, her slushie melting and dripping into his hair. “This is my daughter.”

  “May I?” she asked with an outstretched hand.

  He nodded, and she gingerly took the picture from his fingers. She smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she brushed the pads of her fingers over Morgan’s face.

  “I see so much of you in her. She has your smile,” she said, her throat thick with tears.

  “Had my smile.”

  “Has,” she said, shaking her head. She turned to him and looked him in the eye with all of her emotions churning at the surface. No hiding them. Just open, honest, and so good at being in the moment, feeling all of her feelings, that he wished he could be just like her. He was working on it.

  “She may not be here for us to hold, but she lives right in here,” she said, laying her palm over his heart. “She’s very much alive for as long as you carry her with you, Doc. And when she gets too heavy to carry, I’ll be here ready to carry her for you.” She brushed a tear from his cheek, and holding his face in her hands, she feathered a healing kiss over his lips, knowing just what he needed when he couldn’t figure it out for himself.

  His heart ached in his chest, but it didn’t lay tucked in the cold darkness anymore. Bruised and battered, it beat out in the open, always seeking the light—always looking for this woman to guide the way.

  Reaching for the owl, the plastic crinkled under his hands. “I tucked this away, hoping that when I opened it, maybe I could smell her one last time,” he whispered, terrified to open the bag, but terrified not to.

  Laramie nodded but didn’t say a word.

  This was his decision. Only he could know if it was time.

  Grasping the sides, he popped the seam, afraid to take a breath. Afraid not to. Reaching for the owl, he gasped, the familiar feel of the collage of fabrics stitched together under his fingers painful, but such sweet relief when he hadn’t been able to touch her in so long.

  He buried his face against the body, right where Morgan loved to lay her head and fall asleep against it, and inhaled.

  Cascading moments in their short four years together ricocheted through his mind. He didn’t fight it; he just let it flood him with pain even as the familiar scent of Chapstick mingled with baby shampoo swept through behind it with sweet relief. Her scent held so strong, like she pulsed with life beside him, wrapped around him just as sure as her little arms always did.

  “This is Morgan,” he said, his throat thick and tight, handing the owl to Laramie.

  She brushed her fingers over it the same way she did the picture and pressing it to her face she breathed his little girl in.

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she handed the owl back to him. “Thank you for sharing her with me.”

  The door flew open, and they jumped as an army of little feet marched in.

  “I told you,” Laramie said, handing him the lid to the box.

  “It’s okay. It’s time to get back to the living.” He sealed the owl away and replaced the lid just as Harmony ran in and dropped down to her knees in front of Laramie.

  “See what Brielle gave to me,” she said, her words a little unsteady but clearer every day.

  “What is it, baby?” Laramie asked, taking Harmony’s hand.

  “Chapstick,” Harmony said, her little fingers opening to show them.

  His chest pinched, and he’d swear he heard laughter in the air around him. A laugh he hadn’t heard in eleven years.

  Laramie glanced around as though she heard it too, her eyes finally meeting his, and she smiled. “I told you.”

  About the Author

  To see all books from Casey Hagen, go to:

  www.CaseyHagenAuthor.com

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  ABOUT CASEY HAGEN

  Casey Hagen pens her snarky, passionate stories from the salty air of Kennebunk, Maine. She’s a born and raised Vermont native, a New England girl to the core, with Ben & Jerry’s in her heart and real Vermont maple syrup pumping through her veins.

  She’s the proud mother of three girls and a soon-to-be first-time grandma with an insatiable addiction to Fall Out Boy, and a new, rather concerning obsession with tattoos and piercings. Can you say “cool grandma?”

  The inked and pierced grandma spends her time tucked away in her office, coated in cat hair, alternating between tearing her hair out trying to find the perfect words and being one step ahead of her three scheming fur babies she is positive are plotting her demise with every swirl around her ankles at the top of her office stairs.

  She loves writing stories about real people, with complicated histories, relatable everyday problems, and giving them the hard-won happily-ever-afters they deserve.

  And she thanks every last one of you who picks up one of her stories.

  Casey is done talking about herself in the third person.

  *Casey out*

  Fierce Protectors Series

  Shielding Nebraska

  Shielding Harlow

  Shielding Josie

  Shielding Blair

  Trusting Jake

  Trusting Zane

  Trusting Lucas

  Tallulah Cove Series

  Tallulah Heartbeat

  Tallulah Nights

  Tallulah Trouble

  Tallulah Bargain

  Tallulah Speed

  Tallulah Homecoming

  Tullulah Crush

  The Devlin Brothers

  Blind Spot

  Twisted Instincts

  Falling in Paradise

  Falling in Fiji

  Falling in Angels Falls

  Prime Time Editions Series

  Safe House

  Wolves and Warlocks Series

  Bewitching Her Warlock

  Captivating Her Warlock

  Enchanting Her Warlock

  Enrapturing Her Warlock

  Other Books

  Operation: Girl Next Door

  Rock Me Hard

  Consumed by the Dare

  A Daring Proposition

  Bare Souls

  There are many more books in this fan fiction world than listed here, for an up-to-date list go to www.AcesPress.com

  You can also visit our Amazon page at:

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  Special Forces: Operation Alpha World

  Christie Adams: Charity’s Heart

  Denise Agnew: Dangerous to Hold

  Shauna Allen: Awakening Aubrey

  Brynne Asher: Blackburn

  Linzi Baxter: Unlocking Dreams

  Jennifer Becker: Hiding Catherine

  Alice Bello: Shadowing Milly