Scarred Surrender
By
Jackie Williams
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Scarred Surrender
copyright©Jackie Williams 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used/copied/lent in any form whatsoever without the
written consent of the author.
All character, names and events are from the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to persons alive or deceased is entirely coincidental.
Each book in the Scarred series is a standalone story, however they are best read in order to gain the full experience and enjoyment of this very special team.
Running Scarred (Patrick and Ellen)
Scarred Beginnings (David and Geraldine)
Forever Scarred (Joe and Lucy)
Scarred Horizon (Paul and Amy)
Scarred Survival (Gemma and Ryan)
Scarred Surrender (James and Crystal)
Members of the Team
Patrick – Retired Special Services Major, husband of Ellen, and cook at the château.
(Running Scarred)
David – Retired Captain, Millionaire brother of Ellen, husband to Geraldine, and father of Robbie, Fran and Luc. (Scarred Beginnings)
Joe – Retired lieutenant, husband to Lucy and controller of outdoor activities at the château. (Forever Scarred)
Paul – Retired Captain, husband to Amy and manager of the rehabilitation centre in Roscoff. (Scarred Horizon)
Gemma – Retired lieutenant, wife of Ryan and co-ordinator of special activities at the rehabilitation centre. (Scarred Survival)
James – Retired Captain, single. (Scarred Survival)
Adam – Retired Major, friend of James, and father to Crystal and Emily.
Alex – Retired Special Services Captain, computer expert, and electronics specialist.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
He fought to ignore the ache in his non-existent legs, as well as the muscle that twitched in his cheek. His teeth ground together, almost squeaking as he clamped his jaws hard, hiding the genuine pain even while he concealed the desolation held in his heart, but he didn’t dare release the bone numbing pressure that kept his mouth shut, and his sanity intact.
For a moment James worried that anyone nearby could see or hear the grief that filled him, but then he reasoned that from the ranks of stiff stances and unblinking eyes, they were all suffering the same kind of distress. They were probably as concerned about the exact same thing. Maybe not worried exactly, but possibly mildly uncomfortable about it. Soldiers, even retired ones, never liked to appear the slightest bit anxious or upset. Showing any kind of emotion gave the wrong impression to whoever might be looking at them. He sucked a breath in between his clenched teeth, stared hard, and simply would not allow the tears that had threatened to fall for the past two weeks, leak out now.
He rolled his shoulders a minute amount and breathed through the never-ending torment that affected his lower limbs as the music began and the coffin holding one of his best friends rolled forwards. He bit down harder, refused to blink as he held himself to attention, and wished Adam Bowden a safe journey to wherever he was going. It was only when the curtains finally closed behind the simple casket that James noticed the stifled sobs either side of him.
He released the crick in his neck and turned fractionally to his left. A lone tear trickled down seventeen-year-old Emily Bowden’s pale cheek and another almost silent whimper passed her lips. He slipped a hand into his jacket pocket, retrieved a wad of tissues, and with minimal movement, pressed them into the girl’s paint stained hand.
Lurid pinks and oranges smudged the knuckle of her forefinger and the pad of her thumb. Though everyone said she was exceptionally talented, her art didn’t always make sense to him. James’ heart ached for the young woman as he wondered what she had been creating while she had been ensconced in her studio, seeming almost obsessed as she buried her own grief in her paintings.
The gentle crying at his right hand side had been almost constant for the last two weeks and concerned him even more. Two red, chapped trails ran down Crystal Bowden’s face, turning her normally beautiful features into a scene of devastation, though today, if one could ignore the smudges of black mascara, she looked marginally better than she had done for the last fortnight. She had managed to cover her sore cheeks with some kind of make-up, but her nose still looked as though it was about to explode into red-hot flames.
James shoved his right hand into his trouser pocket and lifted out another wad of tissue paper. Gently trembling fingertips brushed against his palm as the young woman standing beside him took them gratefully.
“Thanks,” a barely audible croak left her swollen lips.
“You’re welcome,” James croaked back from the corner of his mouth. He swallowed back his own emotions again, only glad that he had been able to form the words. For a moment, as he had thought of his friend’s body lying cold and lifeless in the wooden casket, he’d wondered if he would ever be able to speak again.
James could still barely believe the shock phone call he had received two weeks earlier. A chill swept over him as he remembered Crystal’s choked sobs rattling down the phone, scaring the hell out of him even before she managed to inform him of Adam’s passing. So unexpected was the news that he’d almost dropped the phone while he thought he might collapse, but he’d somehow managed to remain upright long enough to discover that the girls’ father had died shortly after being rushed to hospital with a severe case of pneumonia.
Pneumonia? How in God’s name had that come on so suddenly? Okay, so James knew that it could be a killer, but Adam appeared to be as fit as a fiddle when he had spoken to him only a few days previously. Admittedly Adam had mentioned that he had a sore throat, but he had made an appointment to see his doctor to get it checked out. Adam was well aware that his paralysis hid a lot of things. The man had his doctor and agency nurse on speed dial.
How he had managed to drive the ten miles to the hospital following Crystal’s dreadful phone call, James still didn’t know. He couldn’t recall a thing about the route there, parking his car, or how he’d arrived in the emergency ward. All he could remember was seeing the empty shell of his friend lying in the steel edged bed, tubes being removed from his rapidly cooling body while his two daughters, Crystal and Emily stood beside their father, still holding the man’s hands and desperately begging him to come back to them.
He had hauled them both into his arms, had let them sob against his chest until he thought they could sob no more, and eventually took them back to their empty, silent home.
Apart from the odd visit to his work, he had only left them at night since.
They had both asked him to stay over in their spare room, but he had refused. Not because he didn’t want to remain with them, or because he had anyone at home waiting for him. No, he had refused because the stress of the recent events had triggered a terrible bout of phantom limb syndrome.
Normally he could live with it. Had to as it was impossible to be rid of it. It wasn’t
pleasant but after suffering from it for so long pain management was part of his daily life. Usually a few painkillers and a good session in his gym would numb and tire him enough to let him settle at night, but the thoughts that plagued him since Adam’s passing had put paid to any hope of a decent rest.
Even when he thought he could sleep through the pain, the nightmares wouldn’t let him relax. The awful dreams had him tossing and turning and crying out in agony, waking him and anyone who might be within hearing distance. Not that there was anyone close by. He’d made sure of that. He’d not had a soul come to stay overnight at his flat since he had been blown up so many years ago. Couldn’t bear the thought of anyone, especially Emily or Crystal, seeing him so weak and discovering that he wasn’t quite the man they thought him.
But with the pain and the strange rolling emotions that he’d felt since his friends death, more specifically since holding Crystal in his arms, and the odd sensation that had suddenly become lodged somewhere beneath his ribs, he felt weak right now.
Another more impatient sound caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, James noticed Adam’s girlfriend, Saskia, try and place a hand on Emily’s arm, but the grief-stricken teenager’s dark eyes narrowed, her shoulders stiffened and she shifted towards James, leaving the woman’s manicured fingernails groping thin air.
James controlled the smirk that threatened to curl the corner of his lip. His indifference to Saskia matched that of Adam’s daughters, not that he had ever dared say anything about his misgivings over the relationship to his friend. It was none of his business who the man went out with. She had been Adam’s choice and it had been years since his wife, Margaret, had died of breast cancer, but the girls had never taken to the woman and neither had James.
He couldn’t say exactly what it was that made his skin crawl every time she was near. Striking to look at with a beyond stunning figure and mile long legs, she should have been everything any man would desire, but she just wasn’t. Perhaps it was just that she appeared a little too young for the man she had chosen to be with. At only three years older than Adam’s eldest daughter, Crystal, Saskia acted as though she was far more experienced at life and very much wiser. James could only imagine exactly the type of experience she might have, but as to being wiser, James had some serious doubts.
He glanced across at the woman’s serene expression. Nothing had damaged her make-up or reddened her nose. She stood wearing a tragic expression plastered on her features while she dabbed a tissue delicately at her perfectly dry, un-smudged eyes. James held in a grunt of derision. Either the woman had already cried herself dry or she had a heart of stone. He seriously thought it was the latter.
Emily inched closer to him and suddenly threaded her fingers through his. He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze before looking back at the curtains that now concealed his friend’s casket from view. He ignored the forced sob that issued from between the over plump, glossed lips at the other side of Emily and wondered for what must have been the fiftieth time, what his friend had seen in the woman.
Perhaps her attentions had buffed the normally sensible man’s ego. Adam had been completely besotted after Saskia had begun flirting with him on his daily visits to the gym, but James, Crystal, and Emily had been suspicious from the start.
Crystal had been the first to ask the most relevant questions. Her crystal clear summer sky eyes, the ones she had apparently been named after, had flashed with indignation when her father had brought the woman home to dinner. James had been there too, asked, he suspected, to soften the blow of their father finally moving on with his life.
The dinner had been pleasant enough, no one wanting to spoil Adam’s obvious pleasure, but plenty of dark looks had been exchanged as Adam had asked if James would mind staying with his daughters while he took Saskia home. Crystal began demanding answers immediately after the front door closed behind the clearly amorous pair.
Without considering the fact that her father was paralysed from the waist down and possibly not the best candidate for top lover of the gym’s notorious sex goddess owner, why had Saskia suddenly wanted to go out with a man nearly twenty years her senior when she had clearly never been interested before? Saskia had barely shown even mild curiosity in the retired soldier in all the time he had been a member of the gym. The long limbed woman could have any of the numerous younger and far more able men who frequented the place. Indeed, according to local rumour she had already had a lot of them. The bragging rights and gossip in the men’s changing room about how she could drop into box splits with the ease of an Olympic gymnast were legendary.
Admittedly, though paralysed, Adam kept himself in shape, taking his health so seriously that soon after the warlord’s roadside bomb blew up his armoured car and ensured that he’d never use his legs again, he had set up a gym next to Emily’s art studio at their home.
But although his home system kept his body in shape, his mind had still suffered, especially after Margaret had gone. Though physically struck down in the prime of his life, Adam had retained a wicked sense of fun and an intelligence that outstripped most men. A leaflet thrust through his letterbox had tempted him to go to the fitness centre in town for the social life as well as his physical well-being. He had made new friends easily enough, but that still didn’t account for gym owner, Saskia’s recent salivating over the man.
She had barely looked at him when he’d taken his first forays into socialising as a single man again and, when James thought about it, he distinctly recalled Adam moaning about the way the woman completely ignored him, treating him as if he didn’t exist when he first joined the gym.
When she had finally acknowledged that she had her first severely disabled member, he had to ask for help with some of the machines, had to remind her that he needed space for his chair, had to book his spot in the shower so he could use a seat. He even had to ask her not to use the disabled toilet as a stock room. It was if the woman couldn’t bear the sight of him spoiling the flawlessness of all her other perfectly honed clients and was trying to make Adam feel so uncomfortable he would cancel his membership and leave the gym.
If that had been her ultimate plan, it was bound to fail. Unfortunately for the gym owner, she had only considered that Adam was disabled. What she hadn’t contemplated was that Adam was one of the rare men that didn’t see his disability as something to hold him back. He saw his paralysis as a challenge, a new way of living, something to get over and conquer in his mind despite the changes in his body. He’d been indomitable when fully able. By the time he joined the gym he was more determined and obdurate than the most stubborn mule on the planet. It became his own personal challenge to force the woman to accept him, because there was not a hope of her beating him down, or of him leaving the fitness centre if he didn’t want to go.
And then, after months of battling each other, suddenly, as if flicking a light-switch, everything had changed.
Right after Adam had eventually received Margaret’s life insurance payout.
It had taken almost three years to acquire the money after lawyers tied the claim up in heaps of red tape. Adam and Margaret had upped their life insurance massively when they realized his injuries were permanent and life changing. Margaret had become his carer as much as being his wife and she knew that if anything happened to her, with their two girls still needing support, he would need intensive and expensive long term help.
Detected after Margaret discovered a lump while showering, the following investigation for breast cancer soon confirmed what both she and Adam feared. She lasted only six months from the date of diagnosis, and due to the swift progression of the tumour and the time scale of when the insurance increase had been implemented, the underwriters were sure that they could wrangle their way out of an enormous payout.
They couldn’t. The original joint policy had been in place for years prior to Adam’s injuries. The increased premiums for a higher rate of return did not mean it was a new policy, but the company fought th
e action, finally giving up and paying out over a million pounds when the judge ruled in Adam’s favour only six months previously.
Unfortunately for Adam, the local newspaper had become interested in the story. They ran an article on the local war hero who had at last been given some good fortune. Not that Adam thought the million pounds fortunate in any way. He stated quite clearly that his wife had been priceless and he would have much rather he still had her than the money, but it was three years on and, after all the sadness and constant reminders of what he no longer had, he had to start living again.
Gym owner and fitness fanatic, Saskia, suddenly found the forty-eight year old man utterly fascinating. And Adam had apparently loved it!
James snorted quietly, almost laughing as he recalled Adam’s expressive, tell tale grin when he’d refused to give any details of his first serious date with the nubile gym owner. Apparently, according to the man’s daughters, he’d arrived home at three in the morning, his hair sticking out in every direction and his clothes only adjusted to the point of decency.
James pressed his lips together and hid his smile. Whatever the leggy woman’s ulterior motives, Adam had certainly appeared happy for the last few months of his life and in spite of his own misgivings, James hadn’t begrudged him that at all. He just wished he felt a little easier about the new relationship, wished the man had lived long enough to appreciate this new stage in his life.
Guilt swamped him as Crystal choked back another sob and James swallowed the splinters in his own throat. The lump in his chest wasn’t helping the situation either. He hadn’t been able to shift it since he had taken Emily and Crystal home after their father’s death.
A distraught Emily had run straight into her art studio and had begun painting. Crystal had stood in the lounge staring around at the furniture, spaced to allow the width of a wheelchair to pass between and she had suddenly burst into tears again.
Scarred Surrender (Scarred Series Book 6) Page 1
