Red Rock Rises; Sexy Romantic Suspense; Book 1: The Red Rock Series (The Red Rock Seies)

by Lee Taylor

  The degenerate made the mistake of dropping the rope to reach down and rub his prominent arousal. Jesse thought afterwards how fitting it was that his dick was his downfall. With an ear-splitting yell, she spun in the air and landed a fierce kick to his groin. Amid his screams she came from below and drove the heel of her hand up under his jaw. The angle of her blow cracked a couple of teeth and broke his nose. Unfortunately the strike wasn’t hard enough to take him down. With a roar he lunged for her, but ran into a knee strike to his wounded groin instead. She followed up with a driving kick to the side of his head that did drop him, hard. The stunned assailant staggered up from the floor with his knife in his hand. He swiped at her arm and drew a thread of blood, but the blow to his head had made an impact. He was weaving, bleeding from his ear, confirming she’d hit him hard enough to throw off his equilibrium. He stumbled toward Jesse and she grabbed his wrist in a pressure lock; with a bent knee she struck forcefully the underside of his elbow. His loud scream confirmed she’d shattered the joint. Jesse went in for the finish—but contained herself, knowing that he was more valuable alive than dead. A second strike to the side of his head brought him to the floor and the would-be rapist didn’t get up. Jesse drove a series of vicious kicks to his abdomen and groin for the sheer pleasure of beating the shit out of a cowardly thug who easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds or more.

  She hogtied the unconscious brute with his own rope then checked her arm, confirming that it truly was a mere scratch. Finding her phone she sunk to the floor and clicked on Dameon’s number.

  “What’s wrong, Jesse?”

  “A man, here, in my house.”

  She sat on the floor to catch her breath and let the phone drop beside her.

  ~~~

  Driving eighty miles an hour, Dameon covered the distance to Jesse’s house in ten minutes. If there were red lights he didn’t see them. The EMT’s along with Sanchez and Paulson who’d been watching her house were inside. Rocky and a backup squad were yards behind Dameon when he careened into the driveway and leapt from his truck.

  Barreling past his men he barked, “Where is she?”

  The young officer in the doorway nodded to the living room. “You won’t believe this, Wolf.”

  She was standing with her back to the entrance. Dameon came up beside her his heart banging in his chest. Easing next to her, he found enough spit in his dry mouth to speak.

  “Are you alright, Jesse?”

  She was staring in front of herself. She trembled at the sound of his voice but continued to look straight ahead.

  “He’s upstairs. In my bedroom.”

  “One man?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I checked. I went through the house before I went upstairs.”

  He shoved at the bile in his throat at the thought of her searching the house for intruders.

  “Weapon?”

  “Glock, .44 Magnum—and a K-bar.”

  Dameon slipped his arm around her waist amazed that he sounded calm.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head but wavered. He tightened his hold on her. She still hadn’t looked at him.

  Two large officers trooped noisily down the stairs. Spotting Dameon, they approached wide-eyed.

  “Damn, Chief, I don’t know if that son of a bitch will walk again.”

  His partner gazed at Jesse, openmouthed. “Did you do that to him, ma’am?”

  “Yes. With a great deal of joy, I did that.”

  Still holding her arm, relieved that she wasn’t in shock, Dameon glared at Sanchez and Paulson who’d come up from the basement.

  Dameon barely contained his fury.

  “How the hell did this happen?’

  Sanchez’s earnest face was pale, his eyes wide. “Wolf, I swear on my grandmother’s grave we watched her come in. We picked up her tail from Martinez at the park. We followed her home and were outside when we got your call. Christ, Wolf, you knew something was wrong before we did.”

  “How did the fucker get by you, into the house?”

  Paulson chimed in, his southern drawl accenting his words. “Fuck, Wolf, he got through Menendez’s lock slicker than pig snot on a glass doorknob.”

  Jesse looked up at him for the first time. Dameon winced when he saw the bruise on her cheek. He was gratified that she didn’t pull away.

  “It’s not their fault, Dameon. He was here when I got home. He’d been here for a while. I… I smelled him when I got upstairs. I should have known. I could smell his sweat, his body. It was my mistake. I let him surprise me.”

  She looked down but not before Dameon saw her lip tremble.

  “He was… he was in my closet probably jerking off on my clothes. I smelled….” She stopped in mid-sentence and began gnawing at her bottom lip.

  One of the officers who’d come from upstairs locked on Dameon over her head and nodded in confirmation.

  For the first time Jesse seemed shaken. She leaned against Dameon and didn’t resist when he pulled her closer.

  Dameon glared at the group of officers. “Okay, get him out of here.”

  By this time the house was swarming with uniformed officers and a technical crew. Dameon eased Jesse to the side, letting the crews do their work. Rocky came down the stairs, a look of wonder on his face.

  “They’re bringin’ him down now. We needed a stretcher and four guys to carry him, Wolf.” He eyed Jesse. “He’s hurt bad. I still can’t believe you were able to do that, Major.”

  Dameon nodded to his lieutenant. “Get his statement if you can. This may be the best time to get information out of him.”

  Rocky shook his head and nodded at the stairs where four men were carrying the stretcher. “He isn’t talking, Wolf, just moaning. He’s going in and out of consciousness. No question he has internal injuries. Let me tell you, she beat the crap out of him.”

  Dameon glanced at the stretcher as it went by and motioned for the men to stop. He glowered at the injured man. The EMT’s had strung I.V.’s. Blood was drying on his beaten, bloated face and thick-corded neck. His bruised eyes were swollen shut. Dameon whipped out his phone and snapped several pictures. He ripped at the bastard’s t-shirt revealing La Familia prison tats on his muscled chest and biceps. Dameon’s eyes narrowed. Wasn’t going to be hard to track this fucker. Looking at his size and physique, Dameon shuddered. Little wonder that his men were all staring at Jesse in amazement.

  “Get him to the hospital. Post a four-man guard at his door. Get his prints. I want to see his sheet within a half hour.”

  The officer following the stretcher held up a knife to Jesse.

  “I assume this is yours, ma’am. It’s military grade.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s his.”

  Officer Markham whistled. “Damn, you took it off him?”

  Jesse’s lip curved slightly. “No, he politely offered it to me to even up the odds. Along with his gun.”

  Dameon was both impressed and horrified. He waited until they were alone. His pulse was beating at a normal rate—barely. He knew he couldn’t leave without her.

  “Jesse, pack a bag. You can’t stay here tonight.”

  She nodded and went upstairs. Dameon waited for her in the kitchen barking orders and inquiries into his phone. He closed the phone when she came into the room trying to ignore how pale she was.

  “Whoever they are, the fuckers know that Trey is gone and that you’re by yourself.”

  She murmured in agreement. “Yes, they do.”

  She heaved a sigh. “I’ll get my car.”

  “The hell you will. My truck is outside. You’re riding with me.”

  ~~~

  Dameon tossed her bag in the back seat of the extended cab and helped her up into the truck. When she tried to brush off his arm, he tightened his hold and picked her up bodily. He put her onto the passenger seat and strapped her in. Rounding the truck, he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Dameon met her gaze.

  “Hotel? Or my p
lace?”

  He was able to take a deep breath for the first time since he got her call when she whispered, “Your place.”

  ~~~

  They drove silently through the dark streets to the historic district. Jesse was surprised when Dameon pulled into the driveway of a traditional adobe styled house. It was the kind of home that was frequently shown in Albuquerque Today. The houses had maintained their historic integrity but had been updated with ultra-modern conveniences. They were considered show places. Jesse glanced at the solemn man beside her realizing how little she knew about him.

  He turned to her, the darkness masked his sculptured face but didn’t hide the frown that had deepened the lines around his eyes and mouth. She saw the firm set of his jaw and knew that he was thinking he’d made a mistake bringing her here.

  Her question was tentative.

  “Is Zoey here?”

  His voice was gruff.

  “No, she’s in Paris with her mother over Spring Break.”

  “Dameon, you can take me to a hotel if—”

  He shrugged and climbed out of the truck and slammed his door but not before he muttered, “You’re here now.”

  Before she could protest, he’d opened her door. She shivered at the way his strong arms lifted her as if she weighed nothing. His familiar smell made her want to bury her face against his shoulder and drink in the heady odor. He deposited her on the ground and tossed her bag over his shoulder. Leading her into the beautiful home, he pointed down a titled corridor lined with authentic Mexican and Indian artifacts.

  “You can use the bedroom in the back. It has a private bathroom. Zoey’s room is across the hall.”

  It was painfully apparent that he didn’t say where his room was.

  She tried not to let her disappointment show.

  “I… I need to take a shower. I feel dirty, violated.”

  He grasped her arm and yanked her around to face him.

  “Did he hurt you? Jesse? You can tell me. Even if he tried unsuccessfully to rape you, there might be evidence. You’ll need to be examined.”

  She pulled away, the horror of what might have been hitting her.

  “No. He’d been ordered to but he never got past telling me what he planned to do with his various ‘guns.’ ” She huffed. “Don’t worry, he won’t be raping anyone or jerking off in a closet for a long time to come. I hurt him bad.”

  Dameon’s expression was hard, unreadable. “Yes, you did. Hurt him good, I’d say. I’m proud of you.”

  His voice was crisp as he walked away. “Get some rest. Good night.”

  ~~~

  “Don’t shit me, Raoul. This guy’s got Morales written all over him. Look at his tats. His hands. What the fuck more to do you need?”

  Raoul’s sigh was audible. “Yeah, Wolf. I don’t know him, but he looks familiar. I’ll know by morning.” His voice was husky. “You don’t have to believe me, bro, but he isn’t one of mine. But cartel? Yeah, looks that way.”

  “Tomorrow morning, Raoul. The fucker will be awake by then and singing like a canary. When I find out who ordered the hit, he’s going down and everyone with him.”

  “If I don’t get to him first, bro.”

  “The hell you say. The barrio days are over, man. We’re going to do this the right way, my way. One more thing, buddy. The woman who saved your life? The fucker had orders to kill her—after he raped her.”

  ~~~

  Raoul turned to Tomas and pulled up the picture Dameon had e-mailed him.

  “Find out who he is, Tomas, and more important who ordered the hit on Jesse. If Wolf gets to him first, he could blow up a lot of business Uncle Victor would prefer to keep under wraps.”

  “Why are you helping that fucking Wolf? He’s a traitor to everything we believe in, boss. And his cunt isn’t any better.”

  Raoul studied the fuming man. It was one thing to go after Wolf. All of the Morales cartel hated him. And that hate ran both ways. But Jesse? Uh uh. That wouldn’t cut it.

  “Tomas, it’s this simple. If I tell you a duck can pull a truck then shut the fuck up and hook the sucker up. You hear me, man? Find the son of a bitch who ordered this hit before Wolf does. And take the asshole down, barrio style.”

  Tomas sneered. “I thought you were going straight, Boss? That you preferred sucking up to Wolf and the hoity toity. Remember, those assholes believe it’s better to let a man rot in prison for the rest of his life instead of taking care of business the old way.”

  “You’re right, Tomas. But some fuckers deserve barrio justice. The person who wanted to kill the woman who saved my life is at the top of the list.”

  Chapter 34

  Jesse stayed in the shower until the water ran cold. The image of the man who attacked her was oppressive. The idea of him masturbating in her closet sickened her. But that wasn’t the reason she stood shivering in the cold water. Rather, it was because Dameon was several rooms away but the distance between them was so great, he could have been in a different country. When he ordered her into his truck and gave her the option of coming home with him, she’d hoped that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But he’d deposited her in his guest room as though he was a hotel bellman showing her to her quarters. Except that hotel bellmen weren’t hard, distant and obviously angry with her.

  At that moment Jesse knew what she had to do. Walking away from Dameon would be the hardest thing she had ever done. But when she did, she would walk away with dignity. He may be through talking to her but she had things she needed to say to him. It wouldn’t be easy. It would take every ounce of courage she had to face him and apologize for what she had done. She opened her suitcase and took out the silky lounging outfit she wore the first night he kissed her. She shrugged it on and gave her reflection a sad smile. As long as it would be the last time she saw him, she may as well look good.

  Dameon clicked off the phone, allowing his fury with Raoul to flourish. They both knew that someone in either Raoul’s entourage or his uncle’s had ordered the hit on Jesse. By God, by tomorrow Dameon would know who it was and would take him down hard. He forced himself to revel in that thought rather than deal with the real reason for his angst. Jesse was right here in his home—a hundred feet away. What had he been thinking? Why hadn’t he taken her to the hotel? Or better yet, had Rocky take her there? Christ, if she seemed vulnerable, that was nothing compared to what he felt when he was next to her. When he heard the soft knock on his door, he closed his eyes and girded himself. He could handle the anger he felt toward Jesse. It had sustained him for the past ten days. He just couldn’t handle Jesse.

  “May I come in?”

  The sight of her was a physical blow. It hit him in his gut then went straight to his cock. Goddamn her. She would wear those pants. And that damnable top did a piss poor job of containing her breasts. But it was her fragrance that truly did him in. He could smell her from across the room. He took a hefty swallow of Jameson’s and gave a faux-detached shrug.

  “Looks like you’re already in.”

  Jesse forced herself to stay calm, not be put off by his chilly response. He was glaring at her through narrowed eyes, a hard frown lining his brow. She swallowed her nervousness and found her voice—barely.

  “Can we talk?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say, Jesse, that I haven’t already said. We can talk tomorrow—at the station.”

  Jesse hesitated then took a deep breath. Ignoring his rebuff, she walked into the room and closed the door behind herself. She saw that he was drinking whisky. Stilling her pounding heart, she walked over to the bar and poured herself a glass. The fiery liquid burning her throat gave her courage, reminding her why she came. It was difficult enough to ignore his anger. It sliced like a knife through her overwrought nerves. It was more difficult to ignore him. He was incredibly handsome. His dark hair was tousled as though he’d been running his hands through it. His eyes were stormy blue, a darkening sky before the lightning strikes. As always it
was his powerful aura that captured her. Mixed with anger it radiated off of him threatening to turn her resolve to mush. Taking a large swallow of the steadying liquid, she moved across the room and sat in the chair facing him.

  “I’m sorry, Dameon, so very sorry.”

  She ignored his tightening jaw and cleared her throat, forcing herself to speak.

  “You… I know you don’t want to hear what I have to say and I don’t blame you. Dameon, nothing I can say will excuse the hurt I’ve caused. There’s no reason good enough for hurting you, and I know that. But I can’t walk away until I’ve at least tried to explain.”

  Dameon shook his head. His frown deepened.

  “There’s nothing to explain, Jesse. This isn’t necessary or useful.”

  Again she could have been swamped by his cold disdain. Fortunately it galvanized her.

  “Perhaps not for you. But, please, allow me to indulge myself. I have spent the last ten days agonizing over what I did. Trying to understand why I did things that were the direct opposite of what I wanted to do. I needed to know why I pushed you away, when I wanted more than anything for you to hold me.”

  When he held up his hand to stop her, she shook her head. If she couldn’t make him understand, perhaps she could make herself.

  “At first, I just felt horrible. I crucified myself. I tried to accept that this was the way I was likely to be for the rest of my life. Holding happiness in my hands then doing everything I could to throw it away. But I couldn’t accept that. As hard as it was I forced myself to look at the past in a way I hadn’t before, to try to understand why I’m the way I am.

  “I forced myself to relive the shame of how I left the Army. I made a terrible mistake, Dameon. Not leaving the Army—that was the right decision. My father told you what happened. What Elliott did. But what I did was worse, because it was just inexcusably stupid and self-destructive. I knew he was a pig. We all laughed at him behind his back. Even knowing that, I went to his suite. I thought I could handle him, like I handled everything.

  “Part of the mission plan was for me to do a striptease for the guy we were after. He was a disgusting voyeur. We planned to use his fetish against him. After the mission I went with Elliott, my superior officer, to his suite. Elliott told me then he’d been with the other guy and together they watched me strip. Having our target watch me was part of the mission plan. Having my commanding officer leering at me, seeing me naked, was repulsive… ugly. I felt cheap, violated.