by Susan Stoker
“You’re still sick,” Kane said, sitting up straight. “You need to rest.”
Aspen clutched his hand tighter. “I don’t want you to go.”
He looked surprised. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” he assured. “You didn’t leave me when I needed you most, and I’m not leaving this apartment until you’re back to your old self.”
Aspen smiled. “So we’re okay?”
“We’re more than okay,” he told her. “I love you, you love me. You forgave me for being a dick, and I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she told him softly. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Kane leaned forward slowly and kissed her on the forehead. Then he encouraged her to lie down on the couch, and he tucked in the blanket, making sure she was comfortable. He leaned over her and said, “I had the best combat medic looking after me, there was no doubt that I’d be all right in the end. Sleep, querida.”
Happier than she’d been in days, Aspen slept.
“Oh, fuck,” Brain gasped as Aspen bounced up and down on his cock.
It had been a month and a half since he’d almost lost her, and their relationship was more solid than ever. All the languages he’d lost had slowly come back, and he’d never been more content.
He had great friends, a job he enjoyed, and a woman who proved time and time again that she not only loved him, but she’d fight for him if necessary.
Aspen had gotten her discharge papers that afternoon, and they’d celebrated both her release from the Army and the job offer she’d received from Acadian Ambulance Service in Temple. He’d made them a nice dinner with extra-sweet frozen margaritas for Aspen, and topped it off with her favorite—a pound cake for dessert. After they were done eating, she’d dragged him up to his bedroom and pounced on him.
He was currently lying on his back, holding onto her hips as she rode him hard and fast. Her tits bounced with every thrust, and she moaned as she brought a hand down to flick her clit as she rode him. She was sexy as hell, and it was all Brain could to do hold back his own orgasm.
The second he felt her go over the edge, he grabbed her around the waist and rolled until she was on her back. Then he fucked her even harder. Almost overwhelmed by the feel of her inner muscles still fluttering all along his bare cock. They’d done away with condoms, and he’d never felt anything as good as being inside her bareback.
Way too soon, he was on the edge. He pushed inside her as far as he could and let himself go.
A minute or so later, he collapsed, making sure not to crush Aspen under him. He rolled them to their sides, felt her hot breaths against his neck, and closed his eyes in contentment.
He’d almost lost this.
He’d apologized so much that Aspen had ordered him not to say “I’m sorry” ever again in regard to what had happened in Houston. He’d agreed…but he still mentally apologized often.
“Congratulations,” he said softly.
Aspen chuckled. “Thanks.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. The city of Temple might not know it yet, but they’re in the very best hands with you. When someone calls 9-1-1, they’ll be lucky if it’s you who shows up to help.”
“I’ve got some classes I need to take to feel comfortable, especially when it comes to pediatrics, but I’m excited to get started and meet the other paramedics I’ll be working with.”
“They’re going to love you,” Brain told her, hoping that was true.
But Aspen merely shrugged. “Even if they don’t, I’m okay. I have you and your team. And Gillian, Kinley, and Devyn. I don’t need to be best friends with my coworkers, because I’ve got all of you.”
“Damn straight,” Brain told her. “When are you moving in for good?” he asked.
Aspen picked up her head and stared at him. “I wasn’t sure you were ready for that.”
“Not ready?” Brain scoffed. “Woman, I’ve been begging you to stay every night for the last month.”
“If you’re sure…” she said, letting her voice trail off.
“I’m sure,” Brain confirmed. “More than sure. You’re just wasting money renting that apartment since you’re at my house all the time anyway. I want you here. In my bed. In my shower. In my kitchen. I know this house is small, but eventually we’ll get a bigger one.”
“It’s perfect,” Aspen said with a smile.
Brain snorted, and the movement made his cock slip out from between her legs, causing them both to groan.
“I hate losing you,” she said.
“You’ll never lose me, darling,” Brain told her. Then leaned down and kissed her. Long and slow, just how they both liked it.
Winnie Morrison looked over at her neighbor’s house and smiled at seeing Kane’s sleek black car parked in his driveway. He loved that car. And the fact that it wasn’t sitting safe and secure in his garage could only mean Aspen’s car was currently occupying the space. It was obvious he loved her more than he loved his car, which reminded Winnie of her late husband.
Steve had been the love of her life. He’d passed away five years ago, and not a day went by when she didn’t miss him. Didn’t miss the way he’d held her hand, or changed the light bulbs without complaint, or chopped the vegetables for salads because he knew she hated doing so.
But she’d had over fifty-five years with him, and she was content with how her life had gone. She was ninety-one, and didn’t have a lot of time left. But she wasn’t dead yet.
So when her granddaughter, Jayme, asked if she could come stay with Winnie for a while, she had enthusiastically agreed. Watching Kane mow her yard in nothing but his shorts was entertaining, sure, but she was bored most days. It would be nice having Jayme around.
Not to mention, at thirty-two, it was past time for her granddaughter to be married. But Jayme was stubborn. And picky.
Winnie wasn’t going to let that stop her though. She’d found someone who would be perfect for her Jayme. She’d met the young man—everyone seemed young to Winnie—at the grocery store, and they’d become fast friends. He’d called her several times to chat, and he’d even stopped by the other day just to check on her and see if she needed anything. He was respectful, courteous, good-looking—and most importantly, single.
Smiling to herself, Winnie hadn’t felt this much anticipation and excitement in a very long time. She might be old, but she still remembered the butterflies she got when she’d first met Steve. She wanted that for Jayme.
Turning away from the window, Winnie began to plot. She couldn’t wait for Jayme to arrive.
Sierra sat quietly in a chair in the middle of a dilapidated house, desperately trying to get her hands untied. It was no use; all she managed to do was tighten the knots in the ropes holding her to the chair even more than they already were. Tears threatened, but she fought against them. She felt as if all she’d been doing was crying.
It was hard to understand how she’d even gotten here in the first place.
She’d just finished a shift at the chow hall and was headed back to her tent when she’d been grabbed from behind, a sack shoved over her head, and then forced into the back of a vehicle. A man put a knife against her throat and told her that if she made a sound, he’d gut her like a fish.
So she’d lain there, silent and trembling, as they drove right past the guards at the entrance to the post.
She’d been moved from house to house ever since, and paraded with glee in front of the insurgents.
In the midst of her reminiscences, a man she recognized entered the room where she was being held captive and dropped a familiar-looking duffle bag at her feet.
She stared at the bag in dismay. It was hers. She’d been so excited when she’d found it at an Army surplus store back in the States, before she’d left for Afghanistan.
“In case you’re wondering if anyone is looking for you, they aren’t,” said the man. She’d seen him around base. He was an interpreter. Muhammad Qahhar. Someone truste
d enough to mingle amongst the American servicemen and women. “They think you left. That you couldn’t handle the job. No one cares about you, devil woman. You’re ours.”
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked.
“You’re a training tool for my men,” he said.
Sierra didn’t want to know what that meant, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What do you mean?”
“They need to learn how to get information from our captives. How to inflict just enough pain to make someone want to tell us everything, but not enough to kill them. You’ll be our test subject. We’ll use you to hone our skills, so when it’s time, and America sends their best soldiers to take us down, we’ll be skilled enough to send all you Westerners running back home with your tails between your legs.”
Sierra was horrified. They were going to torture her for practice?
“Please, let me go! I won’t say anything to anyone.”
“No,” the man said succinctly before turning to two other men who had come into the room with him. Sierra hadn’t even noticed them before; she’d been concentrating too hard on the man she’d known as an interpreter…and her bag. “Are the caves ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Shahzada,” the other man said.
Sierra blinked in recognition. Shahzada was the name of the leader of the insurgents in the area. Muhammad was Shahzada? Oh, shit. He moved freely on the base. He was trusted by everyone. Clearly, no one even suspected he was the very terrorist they were searching for.
Right there, under the noses of the men and women Sierra had gotten to know while working on the base.
“Good. Take her there and do as you’ve been instructed. We’ll see how many other contractors we can grab to keep her company. Eventually the Americans will catch on, and they will send their so-called elite forces to try to stop us. By then, we’ll be ready for them.”
Shahzada smiled gleefully as he turned to Sierra. “You and the others will be instrumental in getting your people to leave our lands. You should be proud.”
Proud? No, she wasn’t proud—she was terrified.
Sierra couldn’t stop herself from flinching away from the men who came forward. She had no idea what was in store for her, but she knew it wasn’t going to be good.
Someone, somewhere, had to figure out that she hadn’t just up and left the base, right?
She had to be strong, stay alive, so she could tell someone that Muhammad was Shahzada. She might not be a soldier, but she loved her country—and Sierra wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Her last thought before a fist came toward her face, making it impossible to think about anything, was the larger-than-life soldier, Grover. She’d sent him a letter, explaining that she preferred more personal handwritten letters to email, and that she was looking forward to getting to know him. When he got it, and realized she wasn’t sending any others, surely he’d think something was wrong. Right?
Oz was lying on his couch with his hand behind his head, watching football and trying to ignore the argument he could easily hear from the apartment next to his. He’d been listening to the asshole tear into his girlfriend for at least an hour. This wasn’t the first argument he’d overheard either. As far as he could tell, the guy had never smacked her around, but he knew better than most how badly words could hurt.
He and his sister had grown up with a father exactly like the jerk he could hear yelling next door. They hadn’t ever been able to do anything right and had spent their childhoods trying to be quiet, staying out of the way of their dad. Their mom had walked out when Oz was still a baby, and he’d never known her. His sister, Becky, was six years older than him, and yet it had been Oz who’d done what he could to try to protect her.
His sister had never been able to shake free of the abuse they’d suffered. She’d dated a man who was just like their father, except he didn’t hesitate to use his fists to get his point across. Oz had tried to help Becky more than once after she’d left home and while he was still in high school. He’d sent money so she could get away from her abusive boyfriend, but she’d always ended up going back to the guy.
Their father had died right before Oz graduated, and when Becky showed up to his funeral obviously on some sort of drug, Oz was done. He’d helped her as best he could, but until she wanted to help herself, he couldn’t do anything more.
Oz hadn’t talked to Becky in over a decade. Right after he’d graduated from high school and joined the Army, he’d had to concentrate on his own future.
He regretted that now. Wished he’d been strong enough to help Becky more than he had.
Listening to his neighbor get verbally abused through the walls brought all the memories to the surface that he’d done his best to bury.
“You’re trash, Riley! Always have been, always will be!” the man screamed.
“Kick him out,” Oz muttered under his breath.
“Screw you!” the woman yelled back. “Get out.”
“That’a girl,” Oz said with a nod of his head. “Stay firm. Don’t let him talk his way back in.”
“You’ll be begging for me to come back,” the man warned.
She laughed. “No, I won’t. All you do is sit around and play video games all day. We’re done.”
“Fine. You’re an ice-cold bitch anyway. Frigid as fuck.”
“Out!” the woman yelled.
Getting up from his couch, Oz wandered over to his door and opened it. He wanted the asshole she was kicking out to know that she wasn’t entirely without protection. Oz was a big man. At six foot five, he was an imposing figure, and he didn’t think the guy from next door would do anything as long as he was watching.
Oz had seen his neighbor around, though he hadn’t said more than a polite “hello” and “good morning” in passing. But he’d be damned if he let the verbal abuse turn into something physical.
He leaned against his doorway and crossed his arms over his chest, looking as intimidating as he could. Three seconds later, his neighbor’s door opened and the guy stalked out. He turned back and opened his mouth to hurl one last insult…when he saw Oz.
“You aren’t worth it,” the man sneered to his neighbor, then stalked down the hall, past Oz’s door, and disappeared into the stairwell.
Turning to his right, Oz saw the woman standing in her doorway. She blushed when she saw him looking at her. She was a petite thing, at least a foot shorter than he was. She had long brown hair that curled at the ends and big hazel eyes. She looked stressed, but he could also see the relief in her eyes.
“You all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “Thanks.”
“You’re better off without him,” Oz couldn’t help but add.
“I know,” his neighbor said.
He was glad to see she wasn’t breaking down in hysterics. He supposed she’d probably be upset later, and he couldn’t blame her, but for now she was holding herself together.
“I’m Oz,” he said with a small lift of his chin.
“Riley,” she reciprocated.
Oz opened his mouth to say something else, but he heard the elevator down the hall ding and turned to see who was getting off. If it was Riley’s ex returning, he was going to make sure the man understood once and for all he wasn’t welcome back.
But instead, a man wearing a suit and tie, along with a kid who was around nine or ten, walked down the hall toward them.
Oz frowned—and was even more confused when the man stopped in front of him.
“Porter Reed?” he asked.
“That’s me,” Oz told him.
“I work with the Texas Department of Family and Protection Services, the Child Protective Services section. Do you have a sister named Rebecca Reed?”
“Yes.”
“I regret to inform you that your sister has passed away under unfortunate circumstances. You’re listed as next of kin, and this is your nephew, Logan Reed.”
Oz blinked in surprise, his neighbor forgotten, the argument he
’d overheard gone from his head as if it hadn’t happened. All he could do was stare down at the little boy who was trying to be brave, but was obviously scared to death.
He opened his mouth to protest, to say that the kid couldn’t be his nephew, that he hadn’t even known his sister had a kid. But then the little boy looked up…and Oz got a look at his eyes.
The kid had lived through hell. He could see it in his gaze, along with terror as he looked up at the strange man he’d never met. A man who could hurt him, as he’d obviously been hurt in the past.
But it was the gray color of his eyes, just like Oz’s own, that convinced him the boy had his blood running through his veins.
And as if a switch was flicked inside him, Oz instantly knew he’d do whatever it took to protect the boy. If Becky was truly dead, and CPS was at his doorstep, Logan had no one else to look after him. To keep him safe.
Moving slowly, so as not to alarm the boy more than he already was, Oz crouched down so he could look Logan in the eyes. He held out his hand and said softly, “Hi, Logan. I’m Oz. Your uncle. And no one is ever going to hurt you again.”
*
To find out who Winnie sets up her granddaughter, Jayme, with…check out Shielding Jayme! This novella will be offered in an anthology in December 2020, but if you want it as an individual book, you can certainly get it that way too!
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And, Wow, does Oz have his work cut out for him with his nephew…and what’s going to happen with his neighbor? Check out Shielding Riley to find out!
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Want to talk to other Susan Stoker fans? Join my reader group, Susan Stoker’s Stalkers, on Facebook!
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