Enemy Mine (Unseen Enemy Book 3)

by Marysol James

  Chris stopped breathing.

  “When he finished, another one climbed on top of me, then another, then another. Or maybe the same ones, I don’t know. It went on like that for two days – I was raped between being beaten. Or maybe I was beaten between being raped. I’m not sure. I was bound and blind the whole time… I never saw any of their faces. I never knew when it was coming, or what was coming.”

  She dared to glance up at Chris and she was shocked at the look on his face. She knew that Chris had killed people in Afghanistan, she knew that he’d been trained to do exactly that. She didn’t know much about Ranger training, but she’d seen movies about it, and she assumed it was brutal and torturous. This man had gotten through it all, though, and he’d been shipped off to one of the most dangerous places on the planet and he’d done his job. He’d killed people. But she’d never actually seen him as a killer. Not really. Not until this second.

  The expression on his face now, though. My God. He’d kill them if they were in front of him, without a second of hesitation, without a moment of regret.

  “Chris?”

  “Please tell me that they went to jail for a long, long time.” His voice was coiled, quiet. Almost a hiss.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep her body from shaking apart. “No. They didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  She exhaled, hard. “A few reasons. First, one of them – the youngest guy, he was only sixteen – started to freak out and he called the cops himself, gave them very clear directions to the cabin up in the Rockies where they were holding me. So he got credit for being so helpful, and also for being a minor.”

  Chris clenched his hands.

  “Second, they always wore condoms, so there was no physical evidence of any of them raping me. I mean, it was obvious what had happened, from a medical point of view, but there was no way to prove who actually did it.”

  “But you told the cops, right? I mean, you’d have heard their voices…”

  “Yeah, well. The DA decided that I wasn’t the most reliable witness,” she said. “I was blind, so I had no way to confirm anything visually. And…”

  “What? Jenny, what?”

  “… I drifted in and out of consciousness the whole time.” She swallowed hard around the lump forming in her throat. “I was badly beaten, and I had head injuries, and that made it… difficult to remember things. I was confused about lots of details, and the DA knew that any defense attorney could rip me to shreds on the stand. I had no concept of time, or sequence of events. I remembered voices, laughing. But I didn’t always know for sure who – who did what and when. What was real and what was a nightmare when I passed out.”

  Chris was silent.

  “They didn’t get away with it scot-free, but it was pretty damn close. The one guy got three years, and only because his friends kind of turned on him. The others got two each, and the youngest guy got sent to a juvenile detention school. They were out in a year, and the first guy was out in eighteen months.”

  “Where are they now?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She wiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “I was informed when they were released from prison and juvie, but that’s the last I heard.”

  “Jenny?” He fought to stay in control of his rage, to be there for her. “You want me to hold your hand?”

  “No.” She shuddered. “Not now. Please.” She stood up. “I want to go and have a shower, actually. I always – I need to wash after I tell this story. Every time.”

  “OK, baby.” He took a breath. “I was supposed to go to Jim’s for a couple of hours to see the boys. You want me to cancel, stay home?”

  “No. I’ll be upstairs for the rest of the day anyway. Go out… it’s OK.”

  He watched her head up the stairs, listened as the water started to run in the bathroom. Mechanically, numb and cold, he put on his coat and boots, found his car keys. And he stayed numb and cold until he got to Jim’s house. That was when he lost it.

  **

  Chris slammed in to Jim’s apartment. “I need a fucking drink. And something to beat the hell out of.”

  The three men looked up at him, looked at each other. Without a word, Jim got up and went to his kitchen. He poured out a shot of whiskey and handed it to Chris, who threw it back.

  “Another one. And where’s that thing for me to punch?”

  Dallas was already over in the far corner of the room, hanging Jim’s punching bag from the hook in the ceiling. Dean went to the closet and took out the boxing gloves, but Chris tossed back his second shot and waved the gloves away.

  The guys watched silently as Chris laid in to the bag with a ferocity that they knew he possessed, but which they hadn’t seen in a long time. Not since Tiegert had been killed, actually. After five minutes, Chris yanked off his sweaty t-shirt and returned to the bag. Every muscle in his back and arms strained as he punched, kicked, punched again. The only sounds in the apartment were Chris’ hands and feet making contact with the leather and his harsh breathing.

  Finally, exhausted, he held on to the bag. He gasped, panted, his head down. His hands were bruised and bloody, but he didn’t feel a thing. The other men sat and waited for him to turn around. They needed to see his eyes, to make sure that he was back.

  “She told me what happened.” He still had his back to his friends, not wanting them to see his tears.

  Jim got to his feet again and retrieved the whiskey bottle. He refilled Chris’ shot glass, then filled three more. Dean and Dallas took one each, and the men went over to Chris. He took his drink without comment and they all threw them back together, then they shot a second one. That was when Chris finally turned around.

  “You weren’t fucking kidding, man,” he said to Dallas. “It was a fucking nightmare for her.”

  “I know,” Dallas said quietly.

  “How can she trust me to do this? After what happened?” Chris said helplessly. “I can’t – it’s too much. It’s too big. I’ll fuck it all up, scare her. I just – what am I supposed to do?”

  “Keep doing what you’re doing now,” Dean said gently.

  Chris shook his head. “I’m not the right person for this… I should have said no. I’m going to have to pull out of this.”

  “Like hell you will,” Jim said, his golden eyes narrowing. “Now you know what happened, what she was working against when she looked at you and decided to trust you, to open up to you. If you fucking back out now, I’ll beat the living shit out of you myself, man, I swear to Christ. You are not going to leave her out there alone and vulnerable. You promised to have her back. You see this through.”

  Chris flexed his hands and winced.

  “Starting to feel that now, huh?” Dallas asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Jim went back to the kitchen and took an ice pack from the freezer. He tossed it over to Chris, who set it against his knuckles with a sigh. “Dammit. Work’s gonna be hell next week.”

  “Come on, man. Sit.” Dean steered him over to the closest chair. “Talk to us.”

  Chris collapsed in to the chair. “I want to know something.” He looked at Dallas. “You told us that you checked in to Jenny, found out what happened to her six years ago.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where are the four fuckers who raped and beat her for two days up in that cabin?”

  “They what?” Dean asked, his green eyes cold.

  “Yeah. Four guys. Two days. They took turns so it never stopped, not that whole time. And she was tied up and blindfolded, so the whole thing happened for her in complete and total darkness.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Jim looked nauseated.

  “You want to punch the bag?” Chris asked, as some of his humor resurfaced. “It helps a little.”

  “So does whiskey.” Jim poured out another round and they al
l drank. They watched Chris relax a bit, settle deeper in to the chair.

  “So.” Chris wiped his face on his t-shirt, switched the ice pack to his other hand. “Where are these fuckers?”

  “Three of them are dead,” Dallas said. “The last one’s in prison for murder. He’ll be there for another fifteen years, at least.”

  “Damn.” Chris sighed. “I guess that’s something.”

  “Yeah.”

  The four men sat in silence for a few seconds, not making eye contact. They were trying hard to stay on top of their anger, and they knew if they saw even a spark of it in each other, they’d lose it. Best to pull back and shut down for a few minutes, regain control of the situation, then make contact anew. Regroup and reengage.

  “You know, it makes me have a whole new appreciation for that first time we all met,” Dean said.

  “In the hospital waiting room?” Chris asked.

  “Yeah. Think about it from Jenny’s perspective: four huge guys show up out of the blue, refusing to leave. We just… just stormed them, you know. And there were four of us… Jesus.” Dean ran his hands through his scruffy blond hair. “No wonder she looked like she was about to pass out on the spot.”

  “It also explains why Kat and Liv got between us and her,” Jim said quietly. “They’d know exactly where her mind must have gone.”

  The men nodded.

  Chris sighed. “There are just so many ways for me to scare her, guys. So many ways for me to fuck this up.”

  “You go as far as she asks, and not one inch beyond,” Dallas said. “And if she panics, you tell her she’s safe now. That’s it, man. You take it one inch at a time.”

  “Yeah,” Chris looked down at his hands, finally saw the blood and bruises blossoming across the knuckles. “How the hell am I going to explain this?”

  “Tell her the truth,” Jim said. “Tell her you got angry, that you’re angry for her. That you hate what happened to her.”

  “OK.” Chris took his first deep breath since Jenny had laid her truth down at his feet. “OK. That’s what I’ll do.”

  **

  Chris unlocked the front door of Jenny’s house, his hands fumbling a bit with the keys. He had the beginning of a headache pounding in his temples. Not a hangover exactly – though downing five shots of whiskey in as many minutes at eleven o’clock in the morning wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, to be sure. His hands hurt; his chest felt tight. He needed to get eyes on Jenny. He had to make sure she was still in one piece.

  He was surprised to see Emma in the kitchen pouring boiling water in to a mug.

  “Hey,” he said. “Is she OK?”

  “So-so.” Emma looked up at him, gauging his body language. “She called me about two hours ago. She needed to talk.”

  “Yeah, I bet.” Chris leaned in the doorway. “Is she still upstairs?”

  Emma nodded. “In bed. I told her I’d bring her a cup of tea.”

  “Is it OK if I take it up? I want to see how she’s doing.”

  “Sure.” Emma smiled. “And how are you doing?”

  He stuck his wrecked hands in his jeans pockets. “OK.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “So why do you look like you’ve been pounding on brick walls bare-knuckled?”

  Dammit. Nothing gets past this woman.

  He took his hands out again. “Yeah, well. I went at Jim’s punching bag pretty hard.”

  She waited.

  “I wasn’t totally prepared, Emma,” he admitted. “I mean – I knew that it had to be something sexual. An assault, a beating, probably both. But I didn’t expect… that.”

  “I know.”

  “You still think I can do this? That I can help her?”

  She studied him. “What do you think?”

  “I – I wanted to quit.” He stared at his feet, ashamed. “I told the guys that it was too much for me, and I wanted out.”

  “And what did the guys say?”

  Chris grinned. “Jim said he’d beat the crap out of me if I abandoned Jenny now.”

  “Well, Jim wouldn’t be the only one.”

  They shared a smile, then Emma sighed.

  “Chris, listen. You’re allowed to have feelings about what happened to Jenny, you know. It’s OK for you to be furious and feel helpless and in over your head. It’s huge, what she’s facing down, and you’re right there with her, in the thick of it. Of course you’re going to feel overwhelmed. I’d expect nothing different.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She walked closer to him. “You asked me if I still think you can help her. The answer is, yes, I do. You already have.”

  “You mean touching her?”

  “Exactly. Just three weeks ago, she hadn’t been touched by a man since those four assholes degraded and tortured her. Even at the hospital while she was recovering, she only ever dealt with female doctors and nurses. Now, she holds your hand and feels comfortable. She asked you to stroke her cheek. She touched you. Believe me, if you’d told me even one month ago that she’d be able to handle any of that, I’d have said you were dreaming. But it’s happening, Chris. Together, you and Jenny have come this far.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. We have, actually.”

  “And it’s amazing. Believe me.”

  “OK.” He breathed out, his chest opening up again. “Thanks, Em.”

  “So, you want to take this up to her?”

  “You think she’s OK to see me?”

  “She was asking about you,” Emma said. “She was worried that you might not come back.”

  That made his heart twist. “Really?”

  “She was afraid that she’d scared you off by telling you what happened. I think you should go up and show her you’re still here for her. She needs to know that.” Emma walked over to the door and put on her boots and coat. “Say goodbye to her for me, OK? And if you need me, just call.”

  Chris hugged her, then opened the door. “Thanks, hon.”

  “Take care of our girl, Chris.”

  “I will. No more thinking about backing out… I’m in this, Emma. For as long as it takes.”

  “I know you are. Now, go tell her.”

  He picked up the mug of green tea and walked up the stairs. Her door was open, and he paused just outside.

  “Hey, sweetheart. I’m home.”

  Jenny looked up at him, relieved that he was back. She’d berated herself for telling him as soon as she did, and she’d called Emma in a panic, sure that Chris was going to run. Hell, she’d run, if she had any choice in the matter whatsoever.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  He approached the bed slowly, then set the tea on the bedside table before stepping back. Jenny gasped and grabbed his hand.

  “Chris? What happened?”

  “Oh, baby.” He swallowed hard. “I – I went over to Jim’s and I beat the hell out of his punching bag.”

  “You did? Why?”

  “Because… I was angry. No, correction. I was fucking furious. I wanted to kill someone for what happened to you.”

  “You did?”

  “I did.”

  She sat there, his large hand cradled in both of her smaller ones, running her fingers over his split knuckles, tracing the edges of the bruises. Her head was bowed, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders. He saw that her lips were pressed together tightly.

  Chris started when something warm and wet splattered on his hand; it was followed by another drop which landed on his knuckles. He knelt down so he could see Jenny’s face.

  “Are you crying?”

  She nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

  “What? Why are you sorry?”

  “I don’t like to see you hurt.” She he
ld his hand to her cheek. “Especially when it’s my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. I just lost it… that’s on me, Jenny. You hear me?”

  She nodded again.

  Chris hesitated, then he carefully reached out to touch her other cheek. She let him and he cradled her face in both wrecked hands, holding her gaze. He used his thumbs to gently wipe away her tears.

  God. I can finally do this… I can offer her comfort and wipe her tears away.

  “We’re going to be OK, sweetheart,” he said softly. “We’ll take it slow, and I’ll stay as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere, not ever again. I’m here, baby. Right here.”

  Her eyes searched his and she saw a steadiness in them that hadn’t been there before. She relaxed, finally believing that Chris was truly in this with her. That knowledge gave her a courage that she’d been hoping for and seeking for six years – it made her have faith that he’d be there at the very end. That he’d be the one to see her through, all the way to the bedroom. To real pleasure from a man’s body.

  To love?

  “Can you… hold me?” she asked.

  His breath caught. “You feel ready for that?”

  “I don’t know. But don’t let me go, no matter what. OK?”

  “OK.”

  He sat next to her on the bed, his arms at his sides. Jenny moved closer to him, suddenly very aware of how big his upper body really was. She leaned in to him slowly, leaned until her forehead was resting against his chest. She froze, breathing deeply, inhaling his scent. He smelled of soap and alcohol and sweat; he smelled all male, strong and sensual. Exciting and yet somehow still safe. She raised her hands and gently laid them on his chest, curled them around his t-shirt. She held on, counted his heartbeats.

  Stay here for ten beats. Just ten. OK, good. Now ten more. Ten more. Again. And again.

  Chris kept his hands on the bed, waiting to see if she’d stay or if she’d try to bolt. Her body trembled, but far less than he’d expected. She moved a bit closer, burrowed in to him and he closed his eyes.

  God, it feels so fucking good to have her right here. Against me, on me. I never want to let her go… she belongs right where she is. My body was made for hers to fit in to. She’s home; I’m home.