“So, you’ve advanced from first grade picture books to comic books? Good work, squirt,” Charlie teased Ella.
She raised her middle finger without looking up from her book. “Eli gave it to me for Christmas, what did he give you?”
Charlie snorted. “The Dark Knight Rises, on Blu-ray.”
Ella’s eyes snapped up to meet Charlie’s smug grin. “What the hell did you do to get that? You bribed him, didn’t you?” she accused him playfully.
“Nope, he just likes me better.” Charlie grinned and reached for my hand. When he went to lead us from the room, Ella pushed in front and Charlie smirked. “Really, pocket rocket, you’re going to protect us from the hordes of media?”
“As if she needs protecting,” Ella signaled my way, “she beat the shit out of Levier junior with a steel bed post. She’s my fucking hero.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “It was more along the lines of: tapped him repeatedly, causing little to no effect,” I amended her impression of what happened.
“You fought the fucker because that’s what you do,” Charlie said, kissing my head. “You fight back because you are Rebecca Donovan,” he declared proudly. “My baby has the courage of a lioness. She’s gonna make one awesome momma to our babies one day,” he purred in my ear. His words stopped me in my tracks. “Yep, you heard right. Babies, as in more than one. I’m thinking three of four.” My lips quirked into an unbreakable grin. At that moment, Jax sauntered down the hospital corridor looking big and bad. Behind him Braiden and Dillon followed, dressed completely in black and looking equally as bad. Ella gave us a cheeky grin and leaped into Jax’s arms, laying one damn hot kiss on his lips.
“My calendar boys, looking sharp,” I murmured.
Charlie simply grunted and the men flanked us as we left the hospital.
* * *
I lay on my bed, in my room, in my house. I had been rather stiff and uncomfortable to begin with, my mind playing over the events of the last time I was in here. Charlie was beside me though, his hand following an impromptu path across the exposed skin he could reach. Not yet ready to be naked in the bed, I was in flannel pajama bottoms and a thin white tank top, so there was still a fair amount of skin accessible, and his caressing hands were soothing my fears. I spoke to Braiden only an hour ago, and he assured me that Emily was fine, she was sleeping. I relaxed a little more knowing Emily had someone watching over her. In fact, we all had someone watching over us at the moment. Between Dillon and Braiden, they had pulled together a team who were quietly hovering while Jonas Levier was AWOL. The lack of privacy and the feeling of being smothered should have angered me, but instead I felt a little more at ease. This house was locked down tight. No Levier was getting through my laundry room window tonight, or ever. Charlie pulled me closer and nuzzled my neck.
“You smell so darn good,” he murmured.
I pushed him away as he continued to tickle me, sparking to life a yearning inside me that couldn’t come out to play. He was injured after all. “Stop that,” I ordered weakly.
“Hell no,” he growled.
I turned to look at him, suddenly feeling more than noticing the tension coiled in his strong body. I had been too embroiled in my own turmoil to notice Charlie battling his own demons. “You okay?” I asked, pushing a stray lock of dark blonde hair off his forehead.
“No,” he said truthfully. “Not nearly. Two days ago I stood in a room while some asshole held a gun to you.” His fingers delicately smoothed the skin under my chin where William had held his weapon. “I thought I was going to watch you die, and that has me really not okay.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yet you were the one who got shot and when I got all upset over it, you told me I was being silly.” It was awkward to be close to him like this. His injured shoulder was closest to me, his other arm reaching across his body to touch me. I wanted to melt into his warmth, but I didn’t want to hurt him either.
“Come here.” He pulled me and I moved to straddle him, only just barely avoiding his arm in his haste to have me closer. Once positioned above him he smiled, a real honest to God smile, and some of the tension left his body. “Just like this, every damn day,” he murmured.
“Have your meds made you loopy?” I asked, clearly not understanding what he was talking about.
“Every day, for the rest of our lives, I want to go to sleep with you here, with me, just like this.” My heart melted a little at his declaration. “Nothing between us, just you and me, skin to skin.” He lifted the hem of my top and I helped him lift it off. He seemed to sigh at the sight of my breasts and immediately took his one free hand and cupped the weight gently. “You okay with this?” he asked, suddenly a little nervous that I might not yet be ready.
“Oh yeah,” I moaned. “But you’re hurt, so we can’t do this yet.” He chuckled as he teased my nipple and it felt too damn good.
“My shoulder is hurt, not my dick, Betty Boop.” The aforementioned appendage was hard under my ass and I rocked a little, creating a delicious friction between our bodies. “Fuck, baby, get these off and then help me get mine off.” He tugged at my pajama bottoms. I obeyed quickly, and, in too much of a hurry to remove the sling and his shirt, we left it on and I climbed back up to straddle his waist. My greedy hands roamed over Charlie’s beautiful body. It was a masculine beauty, hard and unyielding, yet warm and safe. Finally I settled over his waist and dropped ever so slowly onto his hard length. We both groaned with satisfaction as he wedged deep inside me. “Ride me,” he ordered and I did so gladly. Moving in a slow pace that would normally be almost torturous for us both, was now more than soothing. This was healing. Reminding us that we were alive, allowing us to feel each other both physically and emotionally.
“Just like this, every damn day,” I whispered as I began to pick up our pace, our climax building steadily. Charlie’s eyes latched onto mine as I gave him back the words he gave me. “Without the gunshot wound and sling though,” I added. He grinned and it was wicked and sexy, and I would have come right then if he hadn’t stilled me with his one free hand.
“I’m not gonna let you go, Betty Boop, you should know that right now. You’re mine and I promise to give you everything, this and more, forever.”
I grabbed the hand he was using to still me and brought it to my lips, kissing his palm gently. “Good, because I have no intention of letting you go. And I’d hate to go all stalker girl on your ass.” I moved his hand to my breast and lifted myself slowly, slamming back down hard.
“Fuck,” Charlie bit out as I rode him hard and fast until we both screamed out in ecstasy. I flopped forward, and at the last minute remembered his injured shoulder. My head nestled into the crook of his neck. As he softened inside me, I made no attempt to move, content to lay here like this for all of eternity.
“You think Dillon and Braiden would let us stay with them for a while?” I found myself asking. In a fit of worry, Charlie rolled me to the side, his eyes wide and unsure.
“Did I push you too hard? You weren’t ready were you? Fuck. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in your own home, baby, this is your family’s place. You need this. We can sleep in the spare room, we’ll just put a mattress down on the floor or something.” I put my finger over his lips to silence his rambling.
“Stop having a hissy fit, I’m fine.” He arched a brow. “It’s just, this place is kind of small. I thought I’d talk to the bank and see what I could do in terms of refinancing and maybe, I dunno, expand.” I searched his eyes, hoping what I said next didn’t freak him the fuck out. “It’s not really big enough for three.”
“Three?” he asked, my finger still over his lips.
“You, me and Em, if she wants to move in. I haven’t talked to her about it yet, but I’m hoping she will. And I’m probably being a little ambitious assuming you would want to move in, too, but your apartment burned down, and I thought you might need somewhere to stay.” Now I was rambling.
Charlie grinned. “You don’t need to
refinance, if I’m moving in I’ll pay for the renovations. Fuck knows I can afford it and besides,” he winked, “I know a guy who owns a construction company, I’m sure we can get a good deal.”
My body relaxed as I took a deep breath and exhaled. It felt like all the pain and sorrow that filled my heart over the years—starting with the death of my parents—vanished. In its place, a new love existed: Charlie Freakin’ Cole.
“I love you,” I whispered.
Charlie’s hand clutched the back of my neck, pulling me to him. “Not as much as I love you,” he whispered. I would have argued, but I was too tired.
My mind drifted over my short life thus far. If it were to be penned on paper, it would be quite the tale. Born to parents who were snatched too early from the lives of two innocent little girls; two little girls who were molded under the watchful eye of an old-fashioned, yet adoring grandmother; one sister’s devastation over the little sister who left her because her dreams were more important than family, only to find out that the little sister never even came close to her dreams, instead she was thrown to the wolves, her life consumed by pain and degradation. Somewhere in this story of heartache and pain, the lead heroine, I, Rebecca Donovan, found friendship with people who care for me just the way I am—there’s no need for me to pretend to be someone else or to conform into someone I’m not—I am simply accepted. I found a man who looks at me like I am the only person in the world who matters. It’s fitting that he looks at me that way, because I feel exactly the same way about him. Time and time again I’ve been knocked on my ass, but each time I’ve stood back up, dusted myself off and have become a little stronger. I knew I was strong enough to stand on my own two feet, I always have been, but the crazy thing is, I no longer have to. I have people to lean on, depend on. That used to scare me, but now I feel only humble gratitude and happiness at the thought.
In the end I won. I made it out on the other side with a brand new love, loyal friends, and I have my sister back. For a short time, I feared that I was lost, that my heart had been crushed under the cruel hands of a stranger in my bedroom, violating me, invading a place I should feel nothing but safe in. But Charlie helped me find myself again and I finally feel like I can breathe once more. I know I’m not completely healed, I know there will be some lingering nightmares in my future, but in the warm embrace of Charlie’s arms I feel safe.
This is where I would come home to from now on: to Charlie’s embrace, to Charlie’s warmth, to Charlie’s heart.
Epilogue
Charlie
She had cried so many fucking tears, they simply didn’t come anymore. She was dry, spent. I fell to my knees before her and she immediately wrapped her little arms around my neck, hanging on to me for dear life. I held her close and gathered the strength I would need to carry both of us, not physically, but emotionally.
Braiden had woken us before dawn with a loud pounding on the door, scaring the fucking shit of me, let alone Rebecca. I met him at the door, Glock in hand. She was gone, Emily had disappeared. Braiden had been watching Emily around the clock at the hospital, and finally agreed to go home to freshen up when one of Frank’s boys offered to take up post at her door. He had left to take a piss, was gone not more than five minutes, and she disappeared. They had scrambled for security footage and witnessed, via CCTV, Emily wake to a phone call. She picked up the receiver, and if not for the sharp eye of Braiden and Dillon, who noticed her fist clench and shoulders tighten, we would have assumed nothing out of the ordinary. Emily hung up the phone without uttering a word, her lips sealed shut. She pulled out her IV and slid from the bed. On bare feet, in nothing but a hospital gown, she walked through the hospital, out the front doors, and straight into a waiting limousine.
Rebecca now sat on her couch, her hands hanging limply in her lap, a faraway look in her eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The bad shit was supposed to be behind us, we were moving forward, together. Braiden looked just as shell-shocked, while Dillon made phone calls from his cell in the kitchen.
“They boarded a private jet ten minutes ago,” he confirmed, strolling back into the living room. Braiden’s attention swung to Dillon. “My source picked out Emily easily, she’s pretty banged up after-all, clearly recognizable. She was in the company of a man who could only be described as Jonas Levier. He’s travelling with one other white male, unknown, but I’ll find out who it is. I’m sure Jonas only has a few people that he would keep that close.” Dillon turned to Braiden. “When you get to the airport, you’re gonna want to find a guy who goes by the name of Marsh. I’ve been assured he’s who you want to speak to, and he will more than likely be armed.” Dillon hadn’t asked Braiden to follow up on this. I guess, like me, he assumed Braiden would go looking for Emily. We had all seen the protective watchfulness in Braiden’s eyes as he had stayed by Emily’s side for the last week. He even managed to get her eating and talking. Though not much, it was more than anyone else could get from her. Braiden nodded and moved to stand before Rebecca. He sank to his knees and took her hands in his.
“Rebecca.” His voice commanded attention and I found myself wondering if it was his ‘master’ voice. As soon as I wondered that, I wanted to kick the shit-head’s ass for possibly using it on my girl. Rebecca’s glassy eyes focused on him. Whatever command he had over women, in that moment, I was glad it had roused Rebecca from the catatonic state she had been sitting in for nearly forty minutes now. “I will get her back,” he said with determination. “I promise you I will not come home without her, you have my word.” I didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t said he’d return with her alive, but I appreciated his resolve, and how much he obviously cared. Rebecca needed that, hell, Emily needed that. Rebecca nodded, her jaw set firmly. She stood with Braiden and gave him a quick hug before wrapping herself tightly around my waist. I wish I could wrap both my arms around her. Damn gunshot wound made me want to kill William Levier all over again.
“I’ll let you know what I get as it comes in,” said Dillon, walking Braiden to the front door.
“Appreciated,” Braiden said rigidly before leaving.
“And I’ll keep you both up to date,” Dillon said over his shoulder to Rebecca and me.
“Thank you,” Rebecca whispered.
I didn’t want to think what Emily might be going through right now. I couldn’t bring myself to understand why she had simply walked from the safety of the hospital and straight into his waiting limousine. The only reason I could fathom was that he threatened Rebecca’s life. I knew Emily would do anything to keep her sister safe. She carried a world of guilt over the shit with William, and she would do anything to keep Jonas away from her only family. I held Rebecca a little tighter at the thought of the abuse Emily had already endured and wondered how much more she could handle before she broke beyond repair. I had no idea what kind of girl Braiden would return to Claymont with, if he returned with her at all. There was no doubt in my mind, she would carry one tortured soul.
The End
Strength is overcoming your worst fear
Tortured Soul
Mercy’s Angels Book 3
Kirsty Dallas
Copyright © 2014 by Kirsty Dallas
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and teasers.
Cover Design Copyright © 2014 by Graphics Covered
© Image courtesy of Shutterstock
Editing by Ami Johnson
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to my Aussie James Bond...You know who you are. I won’t say your name for fear lethal repercussions. In all honesty I hope my persistent spy-like questions didn’t get you into any trouble with ‘the man’. Thank you for discreetly and patiently answering each and every one. Please don’t have me knocked off for it...
And, a very
big thanks to all the bloggers who take a chance on my words. Thank you for your support of us indie authors. Without you, there would be so many incredible stories that would never get the chance to shine.
Kudos to you all XXX
Chapter 1
EMILY
I had assumed the position long before he entered the room. On my knees, my ass resting on the back of my heels, spine slightly arched, eyes downcast focusing on the curve of my knees. My hands were resting on my thighs, palms up as per his preference. I should be naked, but I’m not. When I heard the low rumble of his voice from outside the locked door, I had fallen straight into position. Every minute that passed by since was a minute I could have spent undressing to present my body without obstruction, again just as he preferred it. I was afraid if I stood, he would enter the room, and being caught out of position was worse than being caught fully clothed. The gentle ache in my unmoving limbs told me that I had been resting in this position for close to an hour. I’ve sat this way for more hours than I cared to remember, so I knew the posture well, and I knew the familiar ache in my body even better. When the door to the room opened with such force that it slammed against the wall, I didn’t so much as flinch. There wasn’t much that could make me flinch anymore. I knew it pissed him off that I had reached this point. It was part of the reason I was no longer his. I no longer pleased him; my body, heart and mind were blank and unresponsive while he preferred his women the opposite. He liked to intimidate and know his presence caused fear; he longed to dominate and subjugate. When his women surpassed this point and became blank slates, he instantly became bored. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my warped mind it pleased me that he found such anger and disgust in my disinterest. Then there was that small broken part of me that missed the dominance I had somehow grown to crave. It sickened me that I wanted that from him, after all, I hated him like no other. Somewhere during the years of my captivity, his control had turned into a sickening addiction. Perhaps his baffling response to me had sent my emotions into a whirlwind of confusion. His touch could be so soft one moment and become painful the next. Then there was the memory of my first time. He had taken me with such tender care, and I clung to that moment like a drowning woman. One time with his hands on my body, showing me true passion, the only glimpse I’d ever had of a loving intimate caress. There has been plenty of intimacy since that moment, but none of it could be considered loving—hard hands, forceful penetration, pulling, slapping, shoving, squeezing, biting, cutting, beating—but never loving.
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