His Firecracker: Sassy Girls Series

by Reynolds, Rory

  He grips the back of my neck and starts marching me toward the altar. It’s now or never. I stop walking, causing Frankie to bump into my back. Then raise my arms above my head and pull them down toward my stomach quickly. The zip tie comes off with a snap. I don’t stop the momentum of my arms, and my elbow crashes into Frankie’s gut. I doubt he’s truly hurt, but he’s shocked enough that he releases me.

  It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for. I turn to run, but Frankie recovers too quickly. Before I can react, he’s got his arms wrapped around me and is dragging me back. I fight like a feral cat. Not caring where I hit or scratch. I focus on doing the maximum damage to whatever part of him I can reach. I buck in his arms, happy when I hear a satisfying crunch followed by a curse when the back of my head comes in contact with his face.

  I don’t stop fighting until I feel the cold metal of a gun pressed to the side of my head. My chest is heaving as I struggle to catch my breath. “I would hate to have to kill you after all the trouble I went to to find you. Even if you’re a dirty whore.” He shakes me violently, and if it weren’t for his vicious grip on my arm, I would’ve fallen to the floor. “My life would be easier if I just made you fucking disappear.”

  He keeps talking, but I can’t keep up. He’s ranting about how he loves me and how I’ll be his wife, and then everything will go back to the way it was. He’ll be the king again, and I’ll be his queen. Then something breaks through the endless ranting that I need to pay attention to… He’s talking about taking me out of the country after we are married.

  If he manages to get me out of the country, Drake will never find me. I don’t know how long it’s been since I was taken, I would bet anything that Drake is already looking. I pray he finds me before Frankie tries to move me. I can’t rely on being rescued like a damsel in distress. I’ve got to bide my time. An opening will come, and when it does, I will escape or die trying. I refuse to be Frankie’s victim again.

  22

  Drake

  We get to the compound, which is really just an oversized mansion set back into the woods. There isn’t even a perimeter fence, and from what we’ve seen so far, only two guards patrol the outside. It’s killing me to wait for everyone to get into position. Every minute Joselynn is within Frankie’s reach is another minute he has to hurt her. It’s unbearable to even think about what all he could be doing to her.

  “Mack, Chad, Rush, and Travis are in position,” Hutch says. “We are just waiting on Denver and Law to get in place, then we will be a go.”

  Ten more minutes.

  I check my gun for the millionth time since we got here. It’s cocked and ready to go. I have three spare magazines, two knives, and a backup gun in a holster at my back. Not to mention, we are all wearing Kevlar. Hutch told me I’d thank him for making me slow down to suit up if someone manages to get a shot off on me.

  Begrudgingly I listened, taking the time to strap the vest in place along with my extra ammo and weapons. I think Hutch did it as a distraction so he could get the rest of the team here before I stormed the place.

  He’s a smart man.

  Two minutes into the wait there’s a gunshot from inside the house followed by a blood-curdling scream. Instinct tells me it was Joselynn screaming. Without a word, I jump from our hiding spot and run full tilt to the house. Fuck waiting. My firecracker needs me now.

  I hear Hutch following behind me, shouting orders to ‘go now’ and ranting about ‘stupid assholes being impatient.’ He’s lucky I’m focused on getting Joselynn back because any other time I would’ve challenged him to a fight we both know he’d lose. I’m the only one who has ever been able to beat Hutch at hand-to-hand combat. It was true when we served together and is still true now.

  Two shots ring out almost simultaneously, and the two perimeter guards fall to the ground dead. Denver and Law must’ve run double-time to get into position. They are our snipers for this mission. I trust them to have our backs. Nothing will get into the house, and nothing will survive getting out either.

  The house is like a maze. It takes three tries before we find the right hallway. Everything else is totally abandoned. Finally, I come across three guards playing cards in what looks like a repurposed bedroom and know we have to be getting close to where Joselynn is being held. Deciding to go in quiet, I pull my knives. It’s over within seconds. All three guards are slumped in their chairs. I pull my knife from the first guy’s chest where I threw it, hitting him in the heart, killing him instantly.

  A gunshot has me turning, my gun automatically in my hand as if it were an extension of my body. There was a fourth man. Hutch saved my life. Again. Seems like we are always doing that. Leaving the Army didn’t change much, just the location. I give him a nod of acknowledgment. Now that we’ve lost the element of surprise, we don’t worry with being quiet as we continue our search.

  Hutch and I take out four more guards. Hutch moves to clear another room and curses. “Gotta dead woman in here.”

  My heart stops beating in my chest. “Is it…” I can’t even say it.

  “No, never seen this one before.”

  “Thank Christ.”

  “Let’s go get your girl,” Hutch says, pointing toward the last door in this hall.

  My eyes immediately find Joselynn’s when I step into the room. Frankie has her in his arms, and he’s got a gun pointed at her temple. It feels like I breathe for the first time since I learned she was taken. I know that sounds stupid since she literally has a gun to her head, but it’s true. Now that I have eyes on her, everything else is just background noise.

  “Put down your guns!” Frankie shouts at Hutch and me. Hutch looks at me with one eyebrow raised. I can hear him saying ‘is this guy for real?’ and I laugh inappropriately.

  “What’s so funny, asshole?” Frankie looks like complete shit. His lower face is covered in blood and from the nasal sound of his voice, I’d say his nose is broken. I move my gaze to Joselynn, she’s a little worse for the wear. She’s got a big bruise on her forehead, and her lip is split, her wrists are an angry shade of red, but otherwise, she looks unharmed. The thing that nearly tips me over into blinding rage is the dress she’s wearing.

  It’s a fucking. Wedding. Dress.

  For that alone, I’m going to kill this fucker.

  “Put the guns down, or I’ll blow your… what do you call her… firecracker? Yeah, that’s it, I’ll blow your precious firecracker’s brains out. If I can’t have her, no one can. Especially, not a scarred freak like you.”

  The unflinchingly calm look Joselynn has had since we walked in disappears. Her eyes fill with anger. She’s pissed because Frankie insulted me. God, I love this woman. I give her a pointed look then shift my eyes to the left. She gives a barely distinguishable nod, telling me she understands what I want.

  She moves half a second before I take aim and fire.

  23

  Joselynn

  I nearly faint from relief when Drake storms into the room like an avenging angel. Everything happens so fast from the moment Drake and Hutch enter the room to now when I’m in Drake’s arms.

  Safe.

  I barely had time to register that the two other gunshots that rang out at the same time as Drake’s were Hutch and the bodyguard I thought I recognized taking out the other two goons.

  “Are you okay?” Drake asks, frantically looking me over.

  I can’t seem to make words happen, so I nod. I want to shout at him for being crazy and coming after me. I want to collapse into him and let him hold me until I feel like the world isn’t spinning out of control anymore. I want to weep for everything I’ve been through, not just today, but for the last nine years since I first met Frankie. I want to laugh and celebrate because it’s over. I’m safe. I never have to hide again.

  I don’t get to do any of those things because a couple minutes later, Kieffer and a whole squad of men in black swat looking gear come storming into the room. “Well, fuck, looks like we missed the party boys.”r />
  Kieffer’s steely gaze meets mine for a moment before he starts yelling at Drake. I must check out somewhere along the way because I hardly remember anything until I push my hair back from my face, and my hand comes away sticky. I look at it and horror sets when I realize what it is. That’s when the screaming starts.

  I frantically start wiping at my hair, needing to get it out. I fall to my knees, puking when I start thinking that I have Frankie’s blood in my hair… and other things. I puke again and again until there is nothing left. Drake is rubbing slow circles on my back, telling me I’m okay, it’s okay, he’s got me.

  I want to believe him, but it’s kind of hard when I’ve got my ex-fiancé’s brain matter in my fucking hair. Drake pulls his shirt off and uses it to wipe off my face and hair as best he can. The whole time he’s murmuring that he’s so proud of how brave I am and that he loves me. That it’s all over now.

  Kieffer comes over and says something about getting our statements, to which Drake loses his ever-loving mind. “I’m fucking taking her home. You can talk to her when she’s not in fucking shock and covered in—”

  He stops himself before saying it. Which I’m eternally grateful for because I’m doing my best to not think about it. If I don’t think it, it’s not true. Right? Right?!

  “I’m not in shock,” I mumble. Both of them look at me like they don’t believe me.

  “Glad you’re okay, kid.” Kieffer lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Take her home. I’ll come by and get her statement tomorrow.”

  “You’ll come by when I call you.” Is Drake’s parting shot as he picks me up and carries me out of the room.

  I rest my head against the truck window, staring out as the world passes by in a haze. The ride home goes by in a flash of headlights and blurred images of houses and trees. I don’t even realize we’ve made it home until Drake touches my arm. I feel ashamed when I jump at the contact, especially when I see the hurt look on his face.

  “Sorry.” I have to swallow back a lump in my throat to get just that one word out. My emotions are out of control, it feels like I’m treading water, and one more drop in the bucket will cause me to drown.

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Joselynn. Nothing.” The empathetic tone in his voice almost convinces me he means that. But it is my fault. If I hadn’t gone to my apartment. If I would’ve just waited until Drake could come... Or Frankie would’ve still gotten you, only instead of Law getting hurt it could’ve been Drake.

  “Is Law okay? There was so much blood.” More guilt weighs on my shoulders for not asking about him right away. He was hurt trying to protect me. My fault.

  “He’s fine. Head injuries bleed a lot.”

  “Are you sure? He’s really okay?” I sound pathetically hopeful. It’s selfish of me, but I desperately want to have one less thing to feel guilty over, even if I deserve it.

  “He’s so fine that he was there when we came to get you. I promise Law is just fine.”

  I chew on my lip, still not convinced. I shouldn’t get to feel better about any of this. Nothing about what happened today is okay.

  “Stop right now, firecracker. I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to happen. You will not blame yourself for any of this. The blame is firmly on Frankie. You’re the victim in all of this.”

  I cringe at the word victim. I loathe that word more than any other in the dictionary. I hate being a victim. “I don’t want to be a victim anymore.”

  Drake pulls me against him in a one-armed hug. “You’re never going to be again. It’s time for you to be a survivor.”

  I nod, feeling the tears well up. I blink them away. If I start crying now, I will never stop.

  “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

  Drake doesn’t let me walk, even though I tell him I’m perfectly capable. He growled something about it being his right and never letting me go again. Honestly, I’m thankful for his alpha-man ways because I feel safe in his arms.

  I breathe a little easier once we’re inside. It’s funny how quickly this house has become my home. How quickly Drake has become my home. Hank anxiously dances around Drake’s legs as he carries me through to the bathroom. Drake shuts him out of the bathroom, and he instantly starts whining and scratching at the door. It takes Drake yelling at him to get him to quiet down.

  Drake sets me down and turns me so he can unzip the dress. I refuse to think of it as mine. Maybe in another lifetime, it was, but in this one, it’s just one more way Frankie tortured me. Drake takes inventory of every one of my bumps and bruises, growling when he sees my wrists. They are raw and red from where I freed my hands of the zip tie.

  “He fucking tied you up?”

  “Zip tie,” I whisper. “Didn’t work out so well for him. Should’ve used cuffs.”

  Drake tips his head in question.

  “I broke the zip tie, elbowed him in the gut in the process. Most of my injuries came from trying to escape and fighting like hell when he got ahold of me again.”

  “That’s my girl. Where did you learn to escape zip ties? That’s not an everyday self-defense thing.”

  My insides warm at the proud, assessing look Drake gives me. I like that I’ve surprised him. I might be a small woman, but I’m no pushover. Frankie’s biggest mistake was underestimating me. That’s something I know Drake will never do. He sees the fire in my spirit and knows I’m a fighter. Frankie was used to Angel Tate, meek, and scared. Joselynn Brooks is tough and tenacious. She never gives up and never gives in. She’s a survivor. A warrior.

  “YouTube.” I shrug. “They have videos for just about anything.”

  Drake tries to hide his smirk by going back to undressing me. Once I’m bare, he cranks on the hot water. Once it’s steamy, he leads me into the shower, meticulously washing me from head to toe. Without asking, he washes my hair twice. His hands on my body are nice but methodical. We’ve showered together every day since I moved in with him, each one turning into sexy times.

  This is different.

  For one he’s still wearing his jeans, though he’s shirtless. A memory of Velcro ripping open and then Drake wiping my face and hair with his shirt skitters through my mind. He took his shirt off. In public. For me. Remember that drop of water I mentioned earlier. This is it. This is the moment my bucket overfills and all the emotions from the days and weeks leading up to today crash over me in the form of wracking sobs and tears.

  Drake is right there with me. He doesn’t tell me not to cry or try to hush me. He lets me sob and scream and rage at the injustice of it all. By the time I’ve cried myself out, I’m sitting in Drake’s lap on the floor of the shower, hot water still raining down on us.

  “Better?” he asks quietly.

  I rest my head on his chest, “Yeah. I think I needed that. Thanks.”

  “Anytime you need to break, firecracker, I’ll be right here to put you back together again. You’re not alone anymore. Never again.”

  “I love you, Drake.”

  He presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “I love you, too.”

  We quietly dry off, Drake sheds his soaked jeans, but quickly wraps a towel around his waist. He pulls one of his t-shirts over my head, then tucks me into bed.

  “I’m going to wash off real quick. Will you be okay?”

  I nod my reply, pulling the covers up to my chin.

  He strokes my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  24

  Drake

  My shower is probably the fastest one of my life. I don’t like the idea of leaving Joselynn alone, even for a minute. She seems to be much better after her breakdown in the shower, but I know that’s not the end of it. You don’t just get over something like what she went through. Especially when there is a history of abuse. She’s been through a lot, and I wasn’t lying when I said I would be there for her through it all.

  I make my way quietly back to the bedroom, half-expecting Joselynn to be asleep. She’s not. She’s curled up into
a ball, staring blankly at nothing. I can’t resist touching her. I need to reassure myself that she’s here and safe. I don’t even want to think about how close I came to losing her today. I’ll have nightmares for the rest of my life of Frankie holding that damn gun to her head.

  My touch is feather-light on her cheek. Her eyes close, and the pinched look on her face melts away. I keep touching her in gentle caresses, tracing the bruise that’s blooming on her cheek.

  “Will you hold me?”

  She sounds so unsure. As if she thinks I’ll turn her away. I’m not sure why she would think that, but it’s crazy. All I want to do is hold her close to me for the rest of my life. “Of course, love.”

  I turn to grab a pair of pajama pants, and Joselynn’s hand shoots out, grabbing mine, not letting me move. “I’m just getting some pants.”

  “Why? We’ve slept naked together ever since…”

  Ever since the first time she saw me naked. Ever since she made me feel as if my scars are just another part of me and not something to be ashamed of. She’s spent hours touching and kissing every inch of my body, proving to me she loves all of me.

  “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. You’ve been through a lot.”

  She shows how silly that thought is by loosening the knot of my towel and letting it fall to the floor. I crawl into bed beside her, laying on my side, so we are facing each other. Her hand instantly reaches for me. My whole body shudders as her fingertips trace up and down my side. Each stroke of her hand goes lower and lower until she’s stroking from shoulder to hip. My cock hardens despite my best efforts to keep this non-sexual. It doesn’t escape Joselynn’s notice, and I groan when her little hand closes around my hard length.