Enemy From The Past (Unseen Enemy Book 4)

by Marysol James

  “You want us to kill him?” Jim said, only half-joking.

  “That’s one solution,” Kat said coolly. “But maybe not the best one, huh?”

  “So… you think that running for the rest of your life is the best solution?” Jim said. “Really?”

  “Yes.” She met his stare. “I do.”

  “You said you’d give us a chance to convince you that we can keep you safe,” Jim said, the anger coming through strong and clear in his voice. “You going to do that, or will you be leaving now?”

  “Jim,” Dean said quietly. “Back off, man.”

  “No way,” Jim snapped. “It sounds to me like her mind’s made up. I don’t think we’re even going to get a chance to plead our case.” He turned to Kat. “Are we?”

  She stared at him, then slowly shook her head.

  “Well, fine.” Jim shrugged. “If you want to keep running forever, go on. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, sweetheart.”

  “Jim!” Chris glared at him.

  “What?” Jim glared back. “Look at us, Kat, just look at who’s standing here in front of you… never again will you be surrounded by three ex-Rangers and a crack shot ex-sniper, who can and will all kill to protect you! This is the fucking safest that you will ever be – ever. And you’re just walking away? Going it alone again, some more? What the hell are you thinking?”

  “I’m not just thinking about me!” she screamed suddenly, catching them all by surprise.

  “What are you talking about?” Jim said.

  “What am I talking about? About Emma and Olivia and Jenny, of course, you asshole!”

  The men froze.

  “What about them?” Dallas demanded.

  “Jesus Christ. For such smart guys, you’re being goddamned morons.” She turned to Dean. “Emma’s doing better, I know, but what would happen if this sadistic fuck showed up in my life and took her, just to teach me a lesson? Starved her, beat her up a bit? You don’t think the long-term effects on her health would be devastating?”

  Dean paled. Kat looked at Dallas.

  “And what about Liv? If he grabbed her and cut her up, gave her a few more scars, do you really think she’d be OK after, or ever again?” Dallas’ eyes hardened and she looked at Chris now. “And Jenny… she’s finally moving past what happened to her all those years ago, right? Well, what if she were raped again? You think she’d come back to you this time, Chris?”

  They stared at her as her words sank in fully.

  “He knows how to hurt me, guys. He likes doing it.” Kat’s voice was quiet now, resigned. “Back then, he made sure I knew how much power he had over my friends and family. He’d offer my friends rides home from work, and make sure I saw them with him. He’d show me pictures he’d taken of my parents walking out of their house three states over. I was beside myself with worry, knowing that he had that kind of control over people I cared about. I stayed quiet and I toed the line to keep them safe.”

  “The best way to hurt you is to hurt the people you love,” Dean said slowly.

  “Damn right. And if he found me here, he’d find the girls, too, and once he did, how long before he found out how best to hurt them, huh? Liv’s stalker has been all over the news, the details of Jenny’s attack are easily accessible to cops, and Emma’s health is easy enough to figure out. All he has to do is follow her to the hospital oncology wing just once.”

  They gulped, starting to share her fear.

  “And you think that I want to be sure I’m safe here just for me?” she hissed at Jim. “Fuck you. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to my friends. Or to any of you, for that matter, despite you being such a dick.” She jabbed her index finger in Jim’s direction. “You really think I could live with myself if one of you – my best friends’ boyfriends and fiancé – got killed stepping between me and that psychotic piece of shit?”

  “Oh, my God, Kat.” Jim sounded stricken. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…”

  “My name is not Kat,” she said. “But you know that, right?”

  They paused.

  “Yeah,” Dallas said. “Yeah, we know that. You going to tell us your real name?”

  “No.” She turned. “I’m leaving.”

  “OK, hold on, sweetheart.” Chris held out his hands to her. “Let’s all just calm down. Come and sit down again, Kat.” He smiled at her. “I know that’s not your name, but it’s all I’ve got to call you right now, alright?”

  Despite herself, she found herself softening towards Chris.

  God, he’s a nice guy.

  “Yeah, OK. I mean, I did promise to give you a chance to convince me, so I owe you at least that much.” She sat down on the chair, took a deep breath. “So, you get it now, right? What I’m up against and what I’m scared of. What you’re supposed to keep me safe from – me and the girls.”

  “Yeah, we do.” Dean’s voice was low. “We get it, hon.”

  “And?” she asked.

  “And,” Dallas said. “You tell me his name and I flip the tables on him.”

  “What?” she said, perplexed.

  “Well, unlike you, he’s not in hiding, is he? He has a job – a pretty visible one – so it’ll be easy to keep tabs on him. I can check his credit card activity, get in to his bank accounts, track his cell. Ask a staff member to fly on out to Oregon and shadow him.” Dallas shrugged. “If I do it right – and I always do it right, babe – I’ll be able to tell you what he had for lunch on any given day and what he bought his mother for her birthday.”

  She blinked at him. “Is all this legal?”

  “Who cares about legal?” Dallas said. “It’s not like I’d be building a case against him that has to stand up in court. I’d just be keeping an eye on the fucker, making sure he doesn’t come anywhere near you. Think about it, Kat: you’d know everything about him, and he’d know nothing about you. How much safer could you be?”

  “You can do all of that?” she asked.

  “I can and I will. If you tell me his name, and the name of your hometown.”

  “I – I…”

  “Kat,” Chris said. “Just let Dallas do this, OK? Let him do his checking and tracking, see what he turns up. Then make a decision. If you don’t like what he finds, then you can run.” His gray eyes were steady and dark. “Hell, I’ll even drive you to the bus station personally, buy you a ticket to wherever the hell you want to go. But not yet. Give Dallas a chance, let us take care of you a bit. Just… take a breath. Just rest, for the first time in four-plus years.”

  She thought about it, and the men watched her, their hearts pounding.

  “Kat.”

  Startled, she glanced up at Jim. She’d never heard that tone in his voice before. Kat had seen him gentle and supportive with her friends; she’d seen him take care of them when they needed him. But this – this was a different side of Jim. Sweet. Tentative. Penitent, almost. He actually looked frightened and small, and that stopped her cold.

  “What?” she said.

  “Please don’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because. You belong right here, with all of us.” With me.

  Their eyes met and held. Kat couldn’t tear her gaze from his.

  I swear I can hear him begging. Goddammit.

  With a sense of falling, Kat turned to Dallas. “His name’s Michael Ferguson. He’s the sheriff of Foxburg Falls.”

  They stared at her, disbelieving, then they saw how terrified she looked all of a sudden. With jerky movements, Kat got to her feet as if to run, but she backed away from them until her shoulders rested against the door. She hugged herself, trying to physically hold in her sobs, turning her face from them.

  I never wanted to say his name out loud, not ever again. And now they know everything I’ve tried to hide, worked so hard to forget. How t
he hell can I look any of them in the face?

  Jim got to her first. He held her tightly, cocooning her between the door and his wall of solid muscle, his large body covering her smaller one, giving her a sense of privacy. He didn’t say one word as her tears soaked his t-shirt and her whole body shook against him. The others stood back a respectful distance, wishing like hell they could make her promises, offer her guarantees, bring her that fucker’s head on a stake, anything, anything to give her the peace that she so desperately wanted.

  That she fucking deserves.

  Gradually, her sobs tapered off and Jim pulled back to look at her. She stared at the floor, embarrassed and ashamed, but he wasn’t having any of it.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

  She took a breath, lifted her chin.

  “You’re not in this alone, baby. Not anymore.”

  “I know,” she whispered, tears threatening again.

  “And I’m not leaving you on your own until Dallas knows exactly where this asshole is. You hear me? I’m going to do whatever I have to do to make you feel safe.” His eyes were blazing at her. “That means staying here, sleeping on your sofa, taking you to work, picking you up. When we’re sure that twisted prick’s safe and sound in Foxburg Falls, then we’ll see where we are. OK?”

  She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

  Jim stepped back now, and she tried to smile at the other men. “Thanks, guys.”

  “Sure,” Dean said gruffly. “Whatever you need Kat, just ask.”

  “I will.”

  They gave her a hug on the way out, and Jim shut the door behind them. Kat sat on the sofa, suddenly completely and totally wrecked and exhausted. He saw it in her face, and he sat next to her.

  “How you doing?” he said.

  “I’m not sure.” She considered. “Worried. Relieved. Tired. Happy.”

  “All at the same time?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled at him, and he loved how her face lit up. “I’ve got a blender going full-speed inside of me. I’m all mixed up.”

  He grinned at that. “You want to go lie down for a while?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “OK, you go do that. And when you get up, we’ll drop by my place and pick up some of my clothes and stuff.”

  She started. “Oh, Jim… you don’t have to do that. I mean, I’ll be fine here on my own.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What did I tell you?”

  She squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “When?”

  “Not even three minutes ago.” He glowered at her. “Didn’t I say that I wasn’t leaving you alone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You trying to make me a liar?”

  “Uh. No.”

  “OK, then. You get some sleep, then we make some dinner, then we go. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  In her bedroom, she peeled off her clothes, climbed in to bed and closed her eyes. The last thing she felt before falling in to a dreamless sleep was a deep sense of calm.

  I’m not alone, for the first time in years. I’m safe.

  For now.

  **

  About five minutes after Kat – or whatever the hell her name is – closed her bedroom door, Jim started to have some trouble with himself. He sat and drank a second beer, trying hard to stay in control of his anger.

  Now that he knew almost all of Kat’s full story, he felt an odd combination of relief and rage. OK, yeah… he’d guessed that she was on the run from something, and he’d assumed it wasn’t pleasant, and he’d known that he’d be pissed about whatever it was. But still, he was taken aback at just how much he wanted to look Sheriff Michael Ferguson in the eye as he beat his head in to a wall, over and over again. Jim longed to do to this asshole what he’d done to Kat: Jim wanted to scare him, hurt him, humiliate him. Make him feel unsafe and insecure.

  Tit for tat, you fucker.

  In a weird way, though, what was really making him see red was the news that this guy was ex-military; that he was, in fact, one of Jim’s fellow highly-trained brothers. When Kat had innocently said that he was ‘one of you’, Jim had jumped at her precisely because she was right. This sick, abusive asshole with a badge and a gun was one of them. And since Jim, Dean, Chris and Dallas knew what this guy was capable of – in some ways, they knew even better than Kat, despite her personal experience at his hands – that made stopping him their responsibility.

  We take care of our own – and that goes both ways.

  Jim had come across abusive men in his years of training, sure, but they rarely made it to the elite squads. And God knows, he’d been no stranger to throwing a punch when he’d signed up for Basic, and additional training had honed and sharpened his already-considerable skills. Ranger training had made him nothing short of a lethal weapon, and he knew this ex-Marine was the same. The thought that he’d put his hands on Kat made Jim physically sick: most men wouldn’t be able to stay standing once an ex-Marine started hitting them. Hell, for all Jim knew, Ferguson would give him a run for his money in a fist fight. A woman like Kat wouldn’t have a prayer.

  Jim’s anger ballooned up in his chest and he took a deep breath, felt his heart rate drop again. The thing about really intensive and specialized military training was that the farther you advanced in it, the more deadly you became, but you also became more controlled, more focused, more disciplined.

  It was a delicate balancing act, a beautiful symbiotic relationship, one that had been drilled in to Jim’s head over and over: with great power comes greater responsibility. Just because Jim and his friends could wreak havoc and spread human misery didn’t mean they should or would. But Ferguson had turned his back on the creed, the code. He’d gained tremendous power and now he used it to hurt others.

  But how did he get so far in the military in the first place? According to Leanne and Bobby, the guy had been sending up red flags all over the place as early as high school football practice… no way he should have even been a Marine. No way he should have been given the tools of destruction that he had been. He should have been stuck as a grunt forever, not handed elite skills and training.

  Uncle Sam’s psychologists sure fucked that one up.

  Jim wrestled with his own thoughts before reluctantly facing the truth of what was really upsetting him: the truth was that he’d long been afraid that his own training was a mistake. That he’d somehow slipped through the cracks, lucked out, slid on through. That Jim Alden was not anything close to elite material. That it had all been a colossal administrative fuck-up: somebody had pushed his file forward when it should have been kicked right off the desk and thrown in the trash. That he should be back on the family farm in Iowa.

  That maybe I have more in common with fuckers like Ferguson than I do with guys like Dean and Dallas and Chris.

  Jim thought about his quick temper, his suspicion, his inability to trust or connect with anybody beyond the guys. And God, just look at him compared to his friends, right? Dallas was a business owner and one of the best damn snipers that anyone had ever known. Dean also had his own business, and he’d been the LT of their unit. Chris had been a foot-soldier like Jim and was now a mechanic, but he also had that almost magical quality that made frightened women trust him, even after they’d been brutalized by the Taliban. Or by four drunk assholes up in a cabin over two days.

  And who was Jim, what was Jim? Just a guy who did what he was told to do: as a Ranger, as an employee. Dean was, after all, his boss at the tattoo parlour, and even though Jim liked his work a lot, he knew it was all he could do. He’d never lead, never own.

  I’m nothing special. I’m nobody important. How the hell did I end up among the elite? Somebody fucked up somewhere; that’s the only explanation.

  This dark, secret fear had been whispering to him for years, and hearing about Ferguson had now dragged it kic
king and howling in to the light. The hard and undeniable knowledge than an abusive man had been pushed and promoted in to the upper ranks was now staring him in the face. And after all, if Ferguson had somehow received what he didn’t deserve and shouldn’t have even been offered, then who’s to say that the same thing hadn’t happened to Jim?

  He finished his beer, went to get a third one, then thought about Kat. She’d wake up soon and God knows, the last thing she needed was Jim drunk and angry. He’d promised to make her feel safe, and he guessed that had to start with making sure she was safe with him. None of his fucking snapping and bad temper.

  Maybe you don’t deserve what you’ve been given, man, but you sure as hell can make sure that Kat gets what she needs… including respect, calm and security. It’s not much, and God knows she deserves more and better, but it’s something you can do. So fucking do it.

  Chapter Seven

  When Dean and Dallas walked in to Dallas’ house, they were surprised to see Emma and Olivia sitting on the sofa, giggling and swilling Champagne. Dean’s heart jumped, and he hoped this meant what he thought it meant.

  “Hey,” Dallas drawled at them. “Is this a party?”

  “Damn right,” Liv said. “Tell him, Em!”

  “I’m in remission,” Emma told Dallas shyly. “Cancer-free.”

  Dallas stared at her for a few seconds, totally stunned, then he whooped and grabbed her up in a massive hug. She held on to his muscled shoulders, laughing, as he spun her around and around. He set her down again, and just gazed at her like she was the most astounding thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

  “That’s amazing!” he said, then turned to Dean. “Why the hell didn’t you say something, man?”

  Dean looked at Emma, saw the worried look on her face. “Oh, I thought that was Emma’s job, you know? It’s her healthy bone marrow.”

  She looked relieved, and flashed him a big smile.

  “Yeah, that’s true.” Dallas bounded in to the kitchen and grabbed two more glasses. “Champagne, Dean?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Dean smiled back at Emma, happy to finally be able to celebrate the way that he’d wanted to since hearing this amazing news. “You’d better believe it.”