Pure (Trenton Security Book 4)

by J. M. Dabney

  PURE

  TRENTON SECURITY BOOK 4

  J.M. DABNEY

  HOSTILE WHISPERS PRESS, LLC

  Copyright © 2019 by J.M. Dabney

  Hostile Whispers Press, LLC

  ISBN: 978-1-947184-31-2

  Cover by: Reese Dante

  Edits by: AlternativEdits (Laura McNellis)

  Proof Edit by: Stephanie Carrano

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  REMEMBER:

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places, is purely coincidental.

  PLEASE BE ADVISED:

  This book contains material that is only suitable for mature readers. It may contain scenes of a sexual nature and/or violence.

  For my readers who make all my books possible.

  Special thanks to the people who keep me sane, Tracey, Steph, Meredith and Jenn, Erica, who keep me writing through the doubt and make my books better.

  CONTENTS

  Author Note

  Prologue

  1. It Was Just Stitches

  2. Wasn't This Cozy?

  3. Day with the Crew Babies

  4. No Fucking Way

  5. They Couldn't Wait and See

  6. Raul's Fate Awaited

  7. The Great Escape

  8. The Boy Needed His Ass Spanked

  9. He'd Made the First Move

  10. What Now?

  11. Could Pure Do This?

  12. Their Time was Quickly Coming to an End

  13. Setting Up the Perimeter

  14. An Endless Whodunit

  15. Raul was Acting Strange

  16. Hell Has Found Them

  17. The Slamming of Jail Doors

  18. When Would They Answer Him?

  19. Pure Awakened with Nothing

  20. His Boy Came for Him

  21. Enemies Were Closer Than They Expected

  22. They Couldn't Hide Forever

  23. Trenton Took No Prisoners

  24. Nothing Was As It Seemed

  25. This was the Happily Ever After

  26. Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by J.M. Dabney

  AUTHOR NOTE

  This book contains a scene of rape, while it’s not done it extreme detail it was relevant to the story. If you have any issues with these scenes please skip the Prologue where the mentioned scene takes place.

  PROLOGUE

  ATLANTA, GEORGIA 2004

  N icolas Warner flinched as the nurse cleaned the cut on his lip as he clutched the warmed blanket tighter around himself. He’d fought back the tears for the last hour and refused to make eye contact with the bored-looking uniform cop in the corner. They’d found a shirt that fit him after they’d sent him to x-ray his ribs.

  Twelve hours ago, he’d nearly bounced with excitement about his first date with a boy. His mom had kissed his cheek with a smile and told him to have fun. As always, she’d reminded him in her cautious way to be safe. He’d known forever he wasn’t like everyone else. When he was ten, he’d told his mom he was going to marry the Prince in his favorite bedtime story.

  He’d thought he was too old for them, pretended to hate it, but his mom worked so many hours that it was their special time. They’d curl up in her double bed and read. She’d told him the perfect Prince to look for. That the one perfect for him would wait. His mom said when it was right that he’d find someone to love him and show him the respect and care.

  He was big and soft around the middle, and no one had looked at him until the popular boy in his high school asked him to come and hang out. Said it would just be the two of them. The guy smiled, and for the first time, he felt that odd feeling in his stomach, turned shy, and the guy had lifted his hand. When the other boy had tucked his fingers under his chin, he hadn’t been able to help but let his smile show.

  Then it had all gone to hell.

  “Come on, Nicky, everyone else is doing it.”

  “No, we talked about this.”

  He was waiting for love. He was only fifteen, and he wasn’t ready to take that step for anyone, especially the first time they hung out. There wasn’t any shame in holding out for someone who wanted more than to just get off and use him as a tool to do so. He flinched at the painful grip on his crotch. He jumped back, but the guy just kept coming.

  “I said no. I want to go home.” He turned and realized his mistake when strong arms circled him from behind.

  The fear choked him as he tried to free his arms, but he grunted as he was pushed over the tailgate of the guy’s truck. His baggy jeans were ripped over his backside, and he screamed as fingers were shoved inside. He cried and begged—kicked as the guy told him just to relax that he’d like it. The pressure and pain disappeared, but his terror escalated as he heard the jingle of a belt buckle.

  He fought against the hand that was pressing into the center of his back. He clawed at the rusted metal of the truck bed.

  Naked hips and a thick erection pressed to him, and the blunt tip ripped through the tightness of his hole. The agony caused nausea to build. He cried, and his nails ripped when they caught on a jagged spot of flaky metal. The burn caused him to gag, and he choked as his dinner came up. He fought for breath as the boy raped him.

  “What the fuck is going on here,” a stranger’s voice screamed from the darkness.

  He didn’t hesitate to use the distraction to his advantage, and as he held his pants, his backside still bared, he ran into the night. No destination. He didn’t even know where he was. All he knew was he needed to escape. Tears and snot streaked his face. His sobs were loud, and he couldn’t stop running. He couldn’t get far enough away.

  He barely choked back another sob as his mom pushed aside the curtain. He ignored his aching ribs and just buried his face in her throat. She was in her nurse’s uniform. His feet hit the floor, and he ran into her arms.

  “Nick, are you okay?”

  “Can we talk about this in front of your mother?”

  He only nodded and tried to ignore them, telling his mother what happened. Shame and disgust nearly took him out at the knees. His tiny mother braced him as if she’d never let him fall. He didn’t want to hear the word. Didn’t want to name it. If he didn’t talk about it, then it wouldn’t exist. That his stupidity hadn’t made him a victim—he cried harder and only listened to his mother’s soothing tone.

  “Honey, we’re alone, come on, sit up on the gurney.”

  He didn’t want to obey. He didn’t want to see her disappointment.

  “Nicolas Warner, you look at me right now.”

  He lifted his chin from his chest and looked at his mother.

  “You listen to me. This is not your fault. Don’t let this color your dreams.”

  All he wanted to do was disappear, and her strong hands holding his face forced him to meet her gaze.

  “We’re going to go home. You’ll get in a hot bath, and then you’ll talk it out. Don’t let this fester.”

  He agreed with her, just a simple nod to appease her, and he waited there dying a bit more inside as he waited for his discharge papers. There was no Prince for him. No happily ever after. He’d never be weak again. No man would ever hold him down and take. He wasn’t the person he’d been when he left his house,
and he never would be again. He could already feel it—they’d stolen a piece of him, and he’d never get it back—no matter how much time or healing.

  IT WAS JUST STITCHES

  A n angry, pissed off biker in leathers glared at him from the other side of the exam room. Powerful arms corded with muscle and veined forearms were crossed over a chest with rounded pectorals pushing at black cotton. Raul Martinez snarled and one thick dark brow bisected with a scar was arched and dared him to complain.

  He tried to hold the angry stare, but the blood still flowing into his eye ruined the effect. It probably looked like he was winking at the man. Which he would never do. He didn't flirt, especially not with men like Raul.

  It was just stitches that he could've handled himself, but Raul had decided he was Pure’s keeper. Six months ago, Raul had come to work for Trenton Security full-time, and it had been hell. They fought enough when Raul took the occasional bounty from Linus, but the man in the office every day pushed all Pure's buttons.

  “You don't have to stay.”

  “Shut up. I ain't going anywhere. You'll fucking sneak out.”

  Pure was thirty, and he'd taken care of himself for a long time. He didn't need some overbearing brute trying to boss him around. He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

  “Don't dare go to sleep.”

  “Go away!”

  He was getting tired of Raul ordering him around like he...owned him. The man wasn't his boyfriend or even his friend. He wouldn’t even let a boyfriend boss him around. Not that he'd ever had one, because the few dates he’d had didn’t call for a second when they found out he didn't have sex. He refused to have a man use him as a masturbatory tool because his pleasure and care wasn’t worth their effort.

  It wasn't like he didn't want to, he just wanted to wait for the right guy. One who'd stick around. His dad hadn't. The man had spouted all the right words, used love as a weapon to get what he wanted. Pure’s mother had been left pregnant and alone a few days before her eighteenth birthday. She'd found herself homeless and working as a waitress, no high school diploma, and living in a falling down trailer. Pure had done right by her. She had everything she'd ever dreamed, and he worked hard so she didn't have to. Even though she went to nursing school, he hadn’t changed his habit of sending her the extra he earned or showing up with special gifts.

  He still felt Raul staring at him, and it pissed him off. “I said, go away.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Hey, Pure, back to see me again?”

  He lifted his head to see the usual ER doctor breeze in. The man was handsome and probably about his age. His visits normally correlated with this doctor's. His name was Carlton, and the man had asked him out for coffee. He'd politely declined, and it hadn't been brought up again.

  “Not by choice.”

  “I see that,” Carl said with a friendly smile. The man turned to where Raul stood. “Sir, will you leave us so I can—”

  “Like that, wouldn't you, pretty boy?” Raul started to push away from the wall.

  No one might think he paid much attention to the dangerous man other than when they were fighting, but that wasn't true, he knew what the man was getting ready to do. “Raul!”

  Raul pivoted with the grace of a trained warrior and glared at him. “What?”

  “Quit being an asshole.”

  “He wants—”

  “Shut up. He wants to know if he should call the cops in case I'm being abused.”

  “I would never fucking put my hands on you, Pure. What the fuck?”

  It was odd to see Raul looking offended and slightly hurt. They fought, a lot, but he never once thought Raul would ever hit him. The man seemed obsessively protective of him—which was weird since he was at least three inches taller and about fifty pounds heavier than Raul. Raul was a fighter. Brutal when it came to his work. And, yes, the man was an asshole, but he wasn't bad when Raul wasn't ordering him around.

  “It's standard procedure when someone has as many visits as Pure does, and you always seem to be the one with him. I’m aware of his profession, but that doesn’t erase the chance of domestic abuse. Let's check you out.”

  Raul was strangely quiet. The man was eerily silent on most days—an observer—and Raul didn't miss a thing. Except when Raul had anger rolling off him in waves, Pure knew the man was ready to strike. They’d spent several years anticipating their moods and moves, so they worked as a perfectly synchronized team.

  “I don't have a concussion. I'm not nauseous, my head does hurt but nothing out of the ordinary when you headbutt a wall.” He heard Raul's deep growl and knew what was coming. He didn't need another lecture. “Raul, don't start.”

  “Why don't you let me be the judge if you have a concussion or not?”

  “Yes, sir,” Pure grumbled.

  If Carl hadn’t been prodding the cut, he would've jerked his head to see what Raul was steaming about. He winced as Carl pushed a little too hard and pain exploded in his head. Calloused fingertips stroked along his forearm and then thick fingers pushed between his. He flinched more from the strangeness of Raul holding his hand than the pain.

  Raul went out of his way to avoid contact with him. Occasionally, Raul would place a hand on his back or shoulder as they entered a building to do a take-down or when he acted as Sniper and Raul took the job as his spotter.

  “You're going to need stitches and someone to watch you at least overnight. Your mom?”

  “No, I bought her a two-week cruise. They’ve been short-staffed in the emergency room, and she had to pull a lot of doubles. She deserved to escape for a bit.”

  “I bet Jenn loved that.”

  When he got nervous, he talked, and he'd told Carl about his mom over coffee while he'd waited to take Little home one night.

  “She's having a blast. Even said she shared dinner with a gentleman she met.”

  “Love in the air?”

  “Oh, man, I hope not.”

  “You're going to feel some pinches and stinging while I numb the cut. Why do you hope not?”

  “I don't know. It'll be weird.”

  The conversation continued through Carl numbing the cut and then carefully stitching. Raul didn't release his hand, and he even felt the odd caress to the inside of his wrist. It was comforting but disconcerting at the same time. He’d avoided physical contact with Raul; touching led him to think of things he didn't allow himself. Raul was good at making his mind wander to erotic situations, and some were embarrassing. He hoped no one ever stumbled across his collection of bookmarked porn videos.

  He mentally shook off the thoughts that his brain was veering toward, and as he opened his eyes, Raul stepped away.

  “So who's going—”

  “I'll stay with him,” Raul barked out before he had a chance to answer.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  He pouted as Raul and Carl spoke, pretty much ignoring his protests. He didn't want Raul in his house. It was his sanctuary. The place he escaped from work. It didn't seem he had much choice in the matter though. The men kept talking about what to look for, but the Trenton team spent a lot of time in hospitals, and they all had medic training. He hated the hospital. It brought back too many memories. He’d spent most of his life trying to pretend that the incident hadn’t happened.

  Finally, Carl placed a bandage over the stitches. He rolled to a sitting position, and Raul excused himself for a minute. He looked down at his bloody, torn shirt, and wished he’d had a change of clothes. His go-bag was in Raul’s truck, and he didn’t get a chance to ask Raul to grab him a t-shirt.

  “Pure, here.” Raul pushed the curtain aside and handed him a t-shirt. “I’ll wait outside while you get dressed and then we’ll get you home.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He focused on Raul’s retreating back and then got dressed as a nurse knocked. He signed the discharge papers and got the packet, along with instructions, and a reminder to catch up with his regular doctor t
o remove the stitches. He’d just have Little do it like he’d always done.

  On the way home, he told himself to act natural and try to figure out a way to get Raul to drop him off, then just leave.

  WASN'T THIS COZY?

  Raul hovered beside the door as Pure moved around the house. The open floor plan let him see the dining room and kitchen, along with the living room. The place looked cozy and warm—the type of house you saw in magazines with families sitting around the fire.

  He went back to observing Pure. The man was gorgeous and innocent, and he'd tried to ignore his attraction to Pure. The first time he'd met Pure, the man was decked out in tactical gear with his sniper rifle. His cock had instantly gone hard. He wasn't a eunuch. He'd gotten turned on by plenty of men in his life, but that had been the only time he had hardened just looking at someone.

  The man was perfect from his brown hair to his size thirteen tactical boots. Pure was huge; six and a half feet, a good two hundred and sixty pounds, his muscles weren’t hard or sleek. His—and yes Pure was his—man was bulky and soft. The curve of Pure's belly called for him to nuzzle. He couldn’t claim his boy, but that didn’t mean in his mind that his partner didn’t belong to him.