The Virgin And The Hero (Innocent Series Book 2)

by Kendall Duke

  Homeless shelters treated me well sometimes, but other times, they were creep magnets. What the creeps couldn’t steal from you while you slept they’d beat you up and take once you were outside the walls. So I started volunteering at the By-Gones Shelter up on Drummond Road, and once they got to know me, Sheila said I could sleep in the office until I found something better. Sometimes I did find something better, but I’d been sleeping at the office off and on for four years.

  It was clean, dry, and I didn’t have to hide. They didn’t pay me, so my volunteer work was my rent. But Sheila was getting really old, and sometimes I worried that half the reason they stayed open was to make sure I had somewhere to go. I got the job at the diner—in addition to my other waitressing job, and the temp work I did for an office downtown—so I could finally get a place of my own. A real one, with running water and a roof. Electricity, I admit, I still thought of as a luxury.

  Unflusterable, that’s me. And life is fun, damn it, if you let it be, so I always looked on the bright side of things.

  But tonight shook me. Shook me badly.

  I held on tight to Jordan’s hand, and contrary to my first impression, he didn’t seem to mind too much. His eyes studied the road ahead of us, and he gently squeezed my fingers, helping through the rapid mood swings breaking over me after today’s events. When we got to the police station he let go of my hand just to open my door, then helped me down from the cab. I instinctively reached for him again when we walked through the front door, and he let me hold on to his hand again.

  “Hi,” I said to the lady behind the bullet proof glass. “I’m here to give a statement.”

  “Alright sweetie,” she said, and gave me a small smile before nodding towards the door at the end of the waiting room. She disappeared and then it clicked open, and she stood in the center waiting for me. “Your boy-friend can wait here.”

  I froze. I couldn’t move an inch.

  Jordan looked down at me, and when I saw his face I couldn’t help it—I reached out and grabbed on to him. Not just his hand, not just his arm, but his actual torso. I wrapped my arms around his hard abdomen, linking my hands behind his back, and stared up at his face. “Please don’t leave me,” I whispered. “I don’t want, please—”

  Something like relief washed over his features, and then one warm arm swept across my shoulders, pulling me tightly against his chest. We turned towards the woman, and with his arm over me I was able to stop clinging to him like a really dorky barnacle. “I have to give a statement too,” he said, and the woman narrowed her eyes. “We were at the diner. She’s the waitress. I…” His voice trailed away, and he looked down at the floor, suddenly reserved.

  “He saved me,” I blurted out, and the woman grinned.

  “I heard this story.” She pointed at Jordan and gave him a sassy wink. “You’re something else, sugar. David told me you were in the paper a while back—”

  “A long while,” Jordan said, still looking down at the floor. I reached up and interlocked my fingers with his, and that seemed to wake him up a bit. “But yeah, I was at the diner tonight, so…” He blew out a long breath before glancing up at the ceiling. He seemed really uncomfortable.

  The lady seemed to understand, and gave him a nod. She moved aside and let us through, then guided us towards the place in the back where a pair of officers would meet us and take our statement.

  The hallway was narrow, and Jordan was a very big man. I crushed myself into his side, completely indifferent to how needy I seemed—I was needy. I felt like crap. I was scared and weirded out and kept getting blind-sided by these strange thoughts about Jordan… Like how good he smelled, and how warm his hand was. They weren’t strange because Jordan was absolutely gorgeous, but my timing was crap as ever.

  It must be shock.

  But as he carefully closed the door behind us without letting go of me, sat me down in a hard metal chair and wrapped his jacket around me, then got me a warm cup of coffee to hold, I realized: it’s not the shock.

  I just happened to meet an amazing man on the worst night of my life.

  Timing. Again.

  Did he think I was an idiot? Or was he as forgiving as he seemed? Did he feel even the teensiest bit rattled by what had happened tonight? It certainly didn’t seem that way. The detectives appeared to understand everything between us without needing an explanation and just interviewed Jordan at the same time they interviewed me. It wasn’t like we were the ones that broke the law. The detective I was talking to said the kid who had been shot was going to make it, and that made me feel a lot better.

  But then I heard him.

  The Mean Dog.

  He was yelling and screaming and losing his mind, going crazy in the cells in the back. Whenever someone entered the big room where we sat with all of the officers at their different desks, the door would swing open and I could hear him.

  I started to shiver.

  Now this, I told myself, this is shock. And it is perfectly normal. It is totally okay—

  But it didn’t feel okay. Nothing did.

  I’d been so close to dying…. And then I felt it: that warm, broad palm, the solidness of it, the strength. Jordan wrapped his hand around mine without saying a word and I felt my body instantly relax. I was able to concentrate, and when I heard that monster’s voice in the background it just didn’t bother me so much.

  I was okay now.

  It didn’t take long; the interviews were brief and succinct, and then we had to read the statements the officers typed up with our words and sign them. They preferred us to write them out, but I guess they noticed me shaking and just had me dictate mine; Jordan did the same, and because he could say in ten words what would take anyone else a million, it was over, just like that. The officers thanked us and stood up.

  Then one of them cocked his head at Jordan. “You’re Jordan McCready, right?”

  “Yep,” Jordan said, and I could feel the sudden tension in his hand. His shoulders hunched forward and he looked down at the ground.

  “Saved a lot of people, Jordan,” the officer said softly, as if they could see Jordan didn’t like thinking about whatever they were talking about. “You’re a great man.”

  “Okay,” Jordan said, and then he nodded to the officers and strode off, dragging me with him. I didn’t care, as long as he didn’t let go of me.

  And then I realized we were about to go back to the real world, and I started shaking all over again.

  ~~~

  Jordan

  I felt her freeze up again, her limbs going stiff and her hand trembling. I knew she was probably just fighting off the shock of what happened, and honestly she’d done a damn good job of it so far; I knew vets that would be a mess by now, just from the adrenaline. But she was fighting through it, trying hard to stay calm. I kept her little hand in mine and just walked through the halls, not sure what to say.

  When we’d arrived and the intake officer had called me her boy-friend, the craziest shit went through my head: I’m so glad you think that. But I’m not her boy-friend. I’m her…

  Her what, you jackass?

  And then she’d gotten so still and quiet and I thought, damn, well, that was nice while it lasted, I’ll try to keep my stalking to a minimum—until she wrapped her arms around me and pressed those breasts against my belly and I knew I would do anything she wanted, anything at all. Even if she just needed me right now, she had me, and I didn’t care that I was feeling so damn crazy if it meant I could just keep taking care of her.

  Like I said, she threw me off. But it didn’t feel bad; it felt good. Except when she was shivering because she was scared of going back home and afraid of that fucker back in the cells. The nightmares would come, but a girl like this had to have someone. She would be okay.

  I’d make sure of it, even if I had to sleep in my truck outside of her house.

  We stopped walking when we got to the front of the station, and I could see tears starting to well up in her eyes. “Hey,” I
said, coming over and pulling her chin up so I could see her face. “It’s alright, Jessica. It’s going to be fine.” I took a deep breath, preparing myself for her answer. “Who’s at home? I know a girl as pretty as you must have somebody waiting up.” I was never very good at being charming, even before the war, but her reaction surprised even me. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I wiped her tears away, completely horrified. She must’ve just had a break-up or something and be staying with her parents. “I’m sure your mom and dad are—” Nope, wrong again. Jesus Christ. “Jessica I’m so sorry, I can tell I’m saying all the wrong things…” I cradled her face, trying not to listen to that little voice in my brain that had honed in on the fact that she might be on the rebound, and therefore available. For what? I snapped at it inwardly, trying to calm myself down. For comforting you when you can’t sleep? For cleaning up after you when you lose your temper and punch the wall? For that? “Jessica, what can I do to help?”

  And then I wrapped my arms around her, because the tears weren’t stopping, and I held her as close as I could.

  If she had let me, I probably never would’ve let go.

  ~~~

  Jessica

  I didn’t want him to let me go. Never. Never ever ever.

  And I know that I was reacting to the horrible evening, the scene in the diner, the terror, the new job even, trying to find somewhere to sleep that wasn’t a bed roll on an office floor, trying not to miss my mom and dad, still, a decade later—I know all that, okay? I know that’s all normal and fine and it’s completely reasonable to look to the person who literally saved your life and think of them as the best thing since sliced bread and just totally sink in to the best hug you’ve ever had in the arms of your savior and get lost in a fantasy of just—

  Okay, some of that was not normal.

  But it wasn’t not normal. It just didn’t have much to do with the things that had happened. Jordan wasn’t trying to sweep me off of my feet. He didn’t want anything to do with me, if the vibe I’d picked up at the diner was still accurate. He was probably married—he might even have kids! It was okay to acknowledge that I’d never wanted to be with anyone in the way I wanted him, and to notice that in spite of all the craziness—that he saved my life and that I was really alone in the world—I just wanted him because he was nice, and ridiculously hot, and a bad-ass. I wanted Jordan in that moment because literally any woman in the world would want him.

  And yes, it is true.

  I was also in a bit of a crisis.

  “I have nowhere to go,” I said, and he kissed the top of my head before leaning back to look at me. I’m sure I was a complete mess; that red hair guarantees three things: freckles, blushing, and splotches when you cry. Gross. But I couldn’t dwell on that right now, I had much bigger problems. “I’ve been sleeping at the shelter, but I don’t want to go back—”

  “You’ve been what?” I couldn’t tell if I’d said something wrong, he looked so intense all of a sudden.

  “I’ve been sleeping at the shelter,” I said again, as if this would clarify my insane position—which hadn’t seemed insane to me at all, until I had to say it out loud to the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

  “The shelter.” It was a sentence, not a question. His eyes were turquoise, not blue. They were incredible. “You’ve been sleeping at the homeless shelter?”

  “No,” I said, and he somewhat relaxed… Until I continued. “I sleep at the animal shelter—the By-Gones Shelter?” He blinked down at me, his face a tense mask. He looked more upset right now than he had the entire night. “It’s totally fine, I’ve been volunteering there forever and after it didn’t work out with my last adoptive family—”

  “I have a house,” he said, and there was something firm about the set of his mouth. “You can stay there. Just me, otherwise.”

  “Were you looking for a room-mate?” I could hear the hope in my voice and wished I didn’t. I sounded so… I sounded worse than needy. I sounded a little pathetic. “I mean, I really am fine to stay at the Shelter, I just…” I just didn’t want to stay in an animal shelter, waiting for that creep to get out of jail and hurt me, which would never happen, logically, but of course—

  “You stay with me,” he said, and he spoke with a finality I was not interested in questioning, not one little bit. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, holding me close, and we walked to his truck without saying another word.

  ~~~

  Jordan

  The shelter.

  A fucking dog shelter, no less.

  I almost lost my shit when she said that, and when she mentioned foster families I understood why she’d cried when I put my foot in my mouth earlier. So this angel, this bright, beautiful light, had no one and nobody to take care of her tonight. I didn’t even mention a boy-friend because I couldn’t stand making her cry.

  She was coming home with me.

  I didn’t care that the voices in my head were openly warring with each other—one of them reminding me in no uncertain terms that I was unfit, I was fucked up and damaged and the last thing in the world I should do is cram myself into close quarters with the most precious, beautiful thing that had happened to me in my life. The other voice in my head said she needed me. That was all it had to say.

  I would give her the run of the house. She could have the master, I’d stay in my brother’s room. He wasn’t coming home soon anyway, if we got him into a good rehabilitative program. Mom and Dad were dead, and I steered clear of everybody else.

  Or I had, until now.

  But it was my house—owned, outright—and once Caleb’s bills were settled, for this month at least, I’d have a decent amount to feed her. Maybe if I stopped pounding beers to fall asleep I’d have a little more cash on hand. Maybe if I had a woman like her at home I’d stop hitting up the diner.

  Even if we were just… Room-mates.

  The word made me cringe, but it was better than nothing. Certainly better than any alternative I could think of—especially the one that included sending her home to a goddamn dog kennel.

  “Tell me about this situation of yours,” I said, hoping that I was right and there wasn’t any boy-friend around. If I had to listen to her with some other man in my own house… I didn’t let myself finish the thought, but let’s just say it might be me sleeping in some dog kennel. “It sounds… Tough.”

  “No!” She smiled, even though the tears were still glittering on her cheeks. “No, it’s totally fine. I’ve been volunteering there for…” She blinked, thinking; some of the color was returning to her cheeks. I missed her blush already. “Four years, I’m pretty sure. But anyway, Sheila, the manager, she lets me sleep in the office. It’s kind of like camping.” She smiled up at me, that sparkle reappearing in her eyes. “Indoor camping.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well, if you say so.”

  “Sure,” Jessica said, smiling up at me. It turned on all the lights inside of me, making me feel like Christmas. “There’s wild animals and everything.”

  “If those dogs are wild then…” I raised an eyebrow, something I hadn’t done in so long it made my face feel weird, and she laughed.

  “Then what? Some of them are pretty wild. The chihuahuas are always crazy.” The word crazy made her dim for a second, but then she soldiered on. “I’m really good with strays.”

  I bet you are, I thought, but instead I said, “chihuahuas do not qualify as wild animals. Hate to break it to you.”

  She laughed again, a sound so beautiful a rainbow could’ve made it, if rainbows did that sort of thing. “Sure they do. Clearly you’ve never been responsible for exercising a herd of them.”

  And then I laughed out loud, a thing I can safely say I have not done in at least three years. “A herd of chihuahuas?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said, and then a shadow crossed that beautiful face. “People think they’re going to be easier to take care of than they are—they tend to give them up when they get old. They’re not as cute and th
eir medical bills are higher.” She bit her lip. I subtly adjusted my pants. “Sheila’s done a really good job getting grants. Sometimes I—” She stopped so suddenly I glanced at her, and she seemed to realize and shrugged. “Sheila can probably stop accepting new adoptees, if this thing works out between us.” Jessica sounded shy, all of a sudden. “Sometimes I think she’d retire if I had a better place to live.”

  “Well, now you do. You can call her in the morning and let her know.” She nodded up at me, her face pensive. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just… I’m really sorry to put you in this position.” Her lip trembled. I almost pulled the car over, but not for the standard horny reasons; I really could not handle any more tears. I would hold her in my arms until the sun came up if she wanted me to, as long as she didn’t have any more sadness in her heart. I wished I could make her happy forever. I wished— “Listen, this is really sudden. I didn’t even ask…” She looked down at her lap. “Maybe you have people. A mom, a dad.” I saw her bite her lip again, but I waited. “A girl-friend.”

  “Nope, nope and nope,” I said, glad I could be reassuring. “Mom and dad are dead. Good folks. They owned the house, passed it along to me. I can invite anyone I like to live there.” I turned onto my street, the road transitioning into dirt as we left the pavement. “It’s definitely off the beaten track, but it’s a great house. My brother stays there with me when he… When he’s better.”

  “When he’s better?” She had every right to ask.

  “Yep.” I still didn’t have to answer. Jessica seemed to understand, and let it go. A minute later we were pulling down the long driveway, the moon high above us. It was almost three o’clock in the morning now, and all of the exhaustion I’d been feeling hours ago was threatening to come down crashing on my head. “I’m beat.” I looked over at her, unsure of what she might be thinking. We parked in front of the house and I turned off the ignition. “Do you… Do you like it?”