Man of Honor (Passion in Paradise Book 4)

by Sarah O'Rourke

  “Yes, I read that in the file Paradise General sent over to me. Knowing that, Honor, I’m more convinced than ever that your amnesia – for lack of a better word – is probably a way your mind is trying to protect your body. It’s called dissociative amnesia. With time, I think we can unlock some of those memories.”

  Honor froze as she heard the hope coloring the end of Bree’s statement. For years, she had thought that she wanted to remember and fill in those gaps in her memory with what had actually happened to her all those years ago in the woods. But now, when the pivotal moment was upon them and there was actually a real chance that she could finally know just what had happened out there, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

  “Honor?”

  “I’m scared to remember.” Her admission was almost inaudible, but somehow Bree heard it.

  “Most sane people would be. I guess you have to ask yourself which is scarier. The unknown? Or the known? In the unknown, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what happened to you and who’s responsible. On the other hand, if you remember, there might be a memory that could help you identify your attackers.”

  “They were wearing ski masks, Bree. I remember that much,” Honor shared huskily, staring at her tight fists. She felt the nails digging into her flesh, but she was numb to the pain. She was beginning to feel numb everywhere. Twisting her head from side to side, she inhaled deeply as her neck cracked. “Sometimes, when it’s still, my mind will snap back to those two days and I’ll remember snatches.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know, the feel of the cold wind blowing. The horrible stench of beer and cigarettes. The sound of the trees blowing. That kind of thing.”

  “Do you ever see or hear any of the men that hurt you?”

  Honor bit her lower lip as she turned to stare at the abstract painting on the wall. If you squinted, you could almost see the image of the devil, complete with horns and cloven hoof, swirling in the red slashes of the paint.

  “Honor?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes I can hear them. They laughed a lot,” she confided. “I think they were drunk. Or high. Probably both. But, there was this one voice…” Honor’s eyes drifted closed.

  “What about the one voice?” Bree prompted softly.

  “He was young. Younger than the other ones there,” Honor answered, sounding distant, almost aloof. “His touch wasn’t like the mean men. He was gentler. Kinder.”

  “How so, Honor? How was he kinder?”

  “He didn’t wanna do it.” Honor’s reply was detached, unemotional – almost as if she was relaying the weather report. “He kept saying so. But the mean ones…they goaded him into it. They said he couldn’t puss out just because he was the baby of the group. They just kept going at him. On and on. Until…”

  “Until?” Bree prodded.

  Honor’s eyes opened and she stared at the other woman with weary eyes. “Until he hurt me, too, but only the one time for him. The others kept coming back at me, but he only did it that one time.” Swallowing hard, Honor scratched the back of her hand. “And the whole time it was going on with him, he just kept whispering the same thing over and over again in my ear.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I’m sorry, Honor. I’m sorry, Honor. I’m sorry, Honor,” she replied, her voice deadened as she continued to scrape at the skin on the back of her hand.

  Leaning forward, Bree covered her fidgety fingers. “You’re going to break the skin, Honor. You have to stop.”

  Looking at the doctor in surprise, Honor’s eyes dropped to her hand, seeing the reddened enflamed skin when Bree pulled her hand away. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s a nervous tic.”

  Bree nodded. “Are you okay to go on?”

  “Why stop now?” Honor snorted. “We’ve ripped the Band-Aid off, Doctor. Might as well see how much blood comes off the wound.”

  “I’d rather treat the wound so that it doesn’t become infected. Infections are much harder to cure than surface cuts.”

  Honor’s shoulders sagged as she lifted one hand to rub her aching temple. “Okay, I think that’s enough speaking in metaphors for today. I can’t talk about my past and keep up the witty banter. You’re going to have to choose one.”

  Bree laughed. “Duly noted. Okay, so the assailant that kept apologizing…he knew your name?”

  Honor’s eyes widened. “Yes,” she breathed. “But I don’t think I knew that before today,” she admitted, sitting up straighter. “I mean, I remember him saying he was sorry, but I didn’t remember that he knew my name. That he knew ME!” Her heart pounded in her chest as the implications of this new information exploded in her mind. It was possible her late brother-in-law, Tanner, had told the others her name that night, but she couldn’t remember any of the other animals saying her name. Not even Tanner, who’d known exactly who she was when he’d pressed a Taser to her neck to neutralize her and thrown her in the back of his car trunk.

  Bree nodded and made a note on her pad of paper. “Let’s keep going, Honor. What else do you remember about that particular attacker? Single him out in your memory for me and concentrate just on him.”

  Honor closed her eyes again and took another deep breath as she let her mind wander back to that dark night, latching onto the memory of that faintly whiny voice breathing in her ear. “H-his breath didn’t stink. The others smelled like alcohol and smoke and sweat, but he didn’t. He smelled like…” Honor frowned as she struggled to remember. “Gum. Juicy Fruit, I think. It was over quick with him. And like I said, it was only once.”

  “Anything else?” Bree questioned quietly.

  “When it was over and the men were done with me, they argued. They couldn’t decide what to do with me. The young voice… he wanted to let me go. He begged them to let me go, but the others got angry. They must have hit him because I heard him cry out and fall. And when they circled me and started kicking…I heard him crying. He didn’t join in with the others even though they told him to be a man and get up.”

  “Do you think he could have been related to one of the older perpetrators?”

  “I….” Honor squeezed her eyes shut as the present day faded around her.

  ~***~

  “Hold her fuckin’ arms, goddamn it!” a deep voice snarled. “If this little bitch squirms one more fuckin’ time, I’m gonna slit her throat right here,” The Voice threatened as he painfully captured her wrists in his hand again and wrapped them with what felt like twine. It was too hard to be rope, Honor thought as she tried to lift her heavy eyelids again. Her side burned as she felt her body being lifted off the hard ground.

  “Please, just leave her here,” the weaker voice begged as he stroked the hair back from Honor’s bruised face. “She’s been hurt by us enough. Look, she’s bleedin’ somethin’ fierce. Just let her lie here and find some peace!”

  “Shut the fuck up! You heard the Boss. We’re gettin’ rid of her.”

  “Bubby, please…”

  ~***~

  “Brothers!” Honor exclaimed, her eyes flashing open as the flashback faded. Pale and shaken, she panted quickly as she tried to pull air into her lungs. “They were brothers! Oh, my God! I’ve gotta tell Zeke!”

  “Okay, slow down, Honor,” Bree soothed when it appeared her patient might actually pass out on her. “Take a deep breath,” she directed her patient as the woman’s dilated eyes seemed to take over her face.

  “The nicer one… he called one of the other men ‘Bubby’. You’re not from around here, but that’s a pretty common way of referring to a male sibling in this area.” Forcing herself to inhale deeply, Honor held it in her lungs a moment before slowly blowing it out. God, she couldn’t believe this! Maybe this therapy crap wasn’t utter poppycock after all. “How did I not remember that before now?” she asked when it wasn’t such an effort to breathe.

  “Possibly because you’ve never talked through the horror of what happened with anyone. Maybe because I don’t know you very well and you
feel more comfortable telling these things to a stranger rather than someone that loves you. Honestly it could be these or any combination of different things,” Bree theorized. “Do you want to keep going or shift to a subject that isn’t quite so painful?”

  Honor blinked rapidly, her chaotic mind working overtime to keep up with what Bree was saying to her. “But shouldn’t we go tell Zeke about what I remembered.”

  “We will. After the session.”

  “O-okay.” Honor shot the doctor an unsure look.

  “It’s okay, Honor. Seriously, it’s been eight years since Zeke’s caught a real break on this case. He can wait another half hour or so. Besides, while that breakthrough is incredible, it’s not a lot to go on yet. I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high on this piece of information alone.” Seeing the crestfallen expression on Honor’s face, Bree rushed to encourage her. “Don’t be disappointed. The fact that you remembered something concrete on your very first session is amazing. And every appointment after this will continue to grease the wheels of you memory. The wheels are rusty right now, but the more we work with them, the smoother they’re going to turn. Make sense?”

  Hearing that analogy, Honor had to admit what she said made complete sense. “I understand.”

  “I don’t want to lose momentum here with this recollection, but I have to weigh that benefit over the risks we run for an upswing in your nightmares and waking flashbacks. Recalling things too quickly might incur some pretty serious drawbacks. We have to move cautiously. That said, would you like to continue or move on to something a little less stressful?”

  Honor chewed her lip for a moment, deliberating. As badly as she wanted to see what else she could remember to help Zeke catch these animals, she also didn’t want to put herself back in that dark, airless void she’d been locked inside eight years ago when she hadn’t been able to speak. “M-maybe we shouldn’t push our luck today.”

  “I actually think that’s the wiser decision, too,” Bree praised. “Let’s go back a bit and discuss your current relationship with Zeke a bit more.”

  Honor groaned before she could smother the sound with her hand. Staring at the serene woman sitting in front of her, Honor shook her head. “You are truly relentless, aren’t you?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first patient to say so.”

  “Great.” Honor glanced around the room, trying to locate a clock. “Hasn’t it been an hour yet?”

  Bree’s lips twitched with amusement. “Your sessions are 90 minutes.”

  “Oh, goody,” Honor grumbled under her breath.

  “So,” Bree began, flipping backward through the pages she’d been scribbling on, “You said earlier that the sheriff had returned to living in your home, correct?”

  Honor nodded. She truly hated how invasive these questions were beginning to feel, but recognized that Bree was going to do a thorough job whether she wanted her to or not. She might as well just cooperate. Maybe she’d get out of here with as few bruises as possible. “Yes. He’s been back at the house a couple of weeks now.”

  “And what’s that relationship dynamic like?” Bree asked mildly.

  Honor’s brows drew together. “I don’t understand the question.”

  “Well, let’s start with, are you having sexual relations with him?”

  Honor’s jaw fell as her eyes bugged out of her head. “I beg your pardon!” she cried, offended by the candid question.

  “Should I take that as a no?” Bree raised an eyebrow.

  “I…that is to say we’ve never….I mean, I can’t…NO! No, we haven’t!”

  “Ever?” Bree continued, ignoring the appalled look on Honor’s face.

  “No!” Honor gasped, scowling at the other woman.

  “Okay,” Bree said, making another note on her pad. “Do you want to?”

  “Do I want to what?” Honor snapped, more irritated than she ever remembered being with another human being except for Zeke.

  “Do you ever want to have sex with the sheriff?” Bree continued, unperturbed by Honor’s low squeal of anger.

  “I cannot believe you,” she huffed, her cheeks turning bright red. “What kind of question is that?”

  “The normal kind for a therapist to ask a patient that’s suffered a violent, traumatic sexual assault in her past.”

  Honor made a low growl as she pursed her lips. “Fine!” she finally spat when it became clear Bree was willing to wait her out. “I don’t know if I ever want to have intimate relations with Zeke.”

  “What about anyone else? Is there anyone with which you’d consider sharing your body?”

  “Of course not!” Honor exploded. “If I can’t wrap my head around getting naked with a man I do trust, I can’t begin to think about doing it with somebody I don’t!”

  “So, you’re still a virgin?” Bree asked gently.

  Honor blinked slowly. “Did you have a stroke or something? We just spent a half hour talkin’ about how five jackasses brutally violated my body. No, I’m not a virgin!”

  “That was rape, Honor. An act of violence,” Bree corrected.

  “Uh, yeah,” Honor retorted sarcastically. “I got that when they were holding me down, Bree!”

  “What I’m saying is that you didn’t have a choice with what was done to your body then. A woman chooses to give her virginity away to a person she trusts. You haven’t done that yet, but you still can.”

  “I don’t follow.” Honor lifted a hand to rub the back of her aching neck.

  “Giving your virginity to a man isn’t just about losing the hymen, Honor. It’s about offering someone your trust enough to allow them to share your body for the first time in an act that is both pure and consensual. Yes, in the very strictest sense of the word, you’re no longer a virgin. The membrane called your hymen was lost during penetration. But you didn’t make that choice; it was made for you.”

  “I don’t think you get a virginity do-over, Doctor,” Honor asserted grimly.

  “I think both Zeke and a lot of other rape victims would disagree with you. It’s food for thought,” Bree noted. “At any rate, to summarize, you’ve not experienced any kind of sexual situation since your assault, and as of right now, you’re unsure if you’d ever want to experience that kind of sexual intimacy.”

  “I don’t even know if I can, Bree,” Honor whispered, troubled.

  “Why do you say that, Honor?”

  “Because, it hurt! When those animals tore into me, there was so much pain. Hideous, awful pain deep inside of me. I’ve never felt anything like that kind of agony. Not before and not since. Every time I think about Zeke sliding his… you-know-what…”

  “You mean his penis.”

  Honor pressed her lips together and fought a scream. Couldn’t this woman observe some kind of boundaries? After all, she barely knew her. “Yes, that,” Honor said stiffly.

  “Say it.”

  Honor balked. “Say it?” she repeated on a yelp.

  Bree nodded slowly.

  Seeing the other woman settle into her armchair to outlast her again, Honor slapped her hands against the couch. “Fine! I’m terrified that if I try that with Zeke and he sticks his…penis…,” Honor hissed, glaring at the other woman.

  “Very good.” Bree smiled.

  “….If he sticks his penis into me, I’m afraid I’ll feel like that again. Being ripped in two over and over again one time in my life was enough for me! And yes, I know that logically this is a completely irrational fear. I’m not a complete moron, and I took a human anatomy class in college, but I still can’t help how I feel. Lately, he’s started kissing me goodnight at the end of the evening, and I’ve been able to enjoy that. Truthfully, I’ve enjoyed it a lot. But when I feel him get hard...you know, down there,” Honor revealed, gesturing toward her lap as she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Well, I freeze. Ezekiel is patient and kind. He swears up and down he’ll never hurt me the way I was hurt before, but I can’t seem to forget the pain that came afterward.
When I remember that, my body goes cold and the pleasure just dries up for me.”

  “It’s a perfectly natural reaction after what you experienced. But, this obstacle isn’t insurmountable. Let me ask you this, Honor. Have you ever had a self-induced orgasm?”

  Honor felt her face go up in flames. Shaking her head furiously from side to side, she struggled to find words. “I…you….arghhhh!” she moaned, burying her heated face in her palms.

  “Take a moment to gather yourself and then answer the question,” Bree coached in a low voice.

  God, this needed to end soon, Honor thought desperately. Otherwise, she needed to pray that a hole in the earth opened up and swallowed her whole. Never had she imagined answering these kind of questions. “No,” she finally reluctantly disclosed as she lifted her head. “I haven’t. Other than to wash, I don’t touch myself down there.”

  Bree inclined her head before making another note on her paper.

  “Have you dated at all?” the woman inquired.

  “No, not really. Zeke and I go places together, but I wouldn’t exactly call them dates.”

  “Where do you go?”

  “Church. Sometimes to the movies. Places like that.”

  “Uh huh. But you’ve only done that with Zeke, correct?”

  “There aren’t very many men I’m able to trust outside of my family. Zeke is one of the few.”

  “Well, Zeke has made it clear to me on several occasions that he’s interested in having a relationship of the very deepest variety with you. Intimacy. Marriage. Babies. The whole enchilada. So, my next question is, what is the sheriff to you? Personally, I think most folks assume Ezekiel Monroe wants to be your own personal Prince Charming, Honor. In fact, I think everybody in town except for you might see this. Why do you think that is? Really, don’t you think way deep down in her heart every girl is waiting for her Prince Charming, Honor?" the therapist asked, her keen eyes fixed on the young woman sitting in front of her tidy desk