by Krista Wolf
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
1 - Dallas
2 - Dallas
3 - Dallas
4 - Maddox
5 - Dallas
6 - Dallas
7 - Austin
8 - Dallas
9 - Dallas
10 - Dallas
11 - Dallas
12 - Dallas
13 - Kane
14 - Dallas
15 - Dallas
16 - Dallas
17 - Dallas
18 - Dallas
19 - Dallas
20 - Maddox
21 - Dallas
22 - Dallas
23 - Dallas
24 - Austin
25 - Dallas
26 - Dallas
27 - Dallas
28 - Dallas
29 - Maddox
30 - Dallas
31 - Dallas
32 - Dallas
33 - Dallas
34 - Dallas
35 - Kane
36 - Dallas
37 - Dallas
38 - Dallas
39 - Dallas
40 - Dallas
41 - Dallas
42 - Dallas
43 - Austin
44 - Dallas
45 - Dallas
46 - Dallas
47 - Dallas
48 - Dallas
49 - Dallas
50 - Kane
51 - Dallas
52 - Dallas
53 - Dallas
54 - Dallas
55 - Dallas
56 - Maddox
57 - Dallas
58 - Dallas
59 - Dallas
60 - Dallas
61 - Austin
62 - Dallas
63 - Kane
64 - Maddox
65 - Dallas
66 - Dallas
Epilogue
Unwrapping Holly
About the Author
~ Protecting Dallas ~
A Military
Reverse Harem Romance
Krista Wolf
Copyright © 2019 Krista Wolf
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.
Cover image: Stock footage — story is unrelated to subject/models
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~ Other Books by Krista Wolf ~
Quadruple Duty
Quadruple Duty II - All or Nothing
Shared
Snowed In
Unwrapping Holly
Protecting Dallas
Chronicles of the Hallowed Order
Book one: Ghosts of Averoigne
Book two: Beyond the Gates of Evermoore
Book three: Claimed by the Pack
One
DALLAS
I woke in the darkness, a cold shiver bolting through me. It ran down my spine, prickling every single one of the hairs on the back of my neck.
You’re not alone.
The thought came instantly, without even a moment’s consideration. It was a gut feeling. An instinct.
It was terrifying.
Dallas, get up!
Slowly my eyes adjusted, and the ceiling faded into view. I remained frozen however. If I were being watched, or stalked, or anything like that, moving would only—
My heart skipped a beat as I saw him: a dark figure, standing at the foot of my bed.
“WHAT THE—”
He bolted upright, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream. It gave him only an instant’s pause, this man in black. This man dressed like the night, head to toe, blending in with the shadows.
An instant was all I needed.
I rolled from bed, one foot landing on the cold floor before the other. Then, without stopping my momentum, I swung the other leg upward…
… and kicked him square in the balls.
“Unnnfff!”
It was a strangled cry, but still just as satisfying. It stopped his charge mid-stride, driving him upward and backward. I could hear him sinking to his knees behind me, but I couldn’t see him because I was already through my bedroom door and flying down the hallway.
“HELP!”
I fumbled for lights along the way. I think I even hit a switch, but for some reason, everything remained dark.
“HELLLLLP!”
Your phone!
Damn. It was still back in the bedroom. I could’ve grabbed it, I could have it in my hand right now. It would’ve only taken an extra second, maybe two. Time I definitely had, considering how hard my foot had connected with my invader’s groin.
“HEEEEEELLLL—”
My third cry was cut short, as a hand clapped itself tightly over my mouth. It stopped my momentum abruptly, clotheslining me as I flung myself into the kitchen.
“Shhhh!”
It was a hiss, somewhere close to my ear. A second attacker. Someone else in my house… someone who now had both arms wrapped around me as I flailed and kicked and struggled to break free.
“EASY,” the voice in my ear buzzed. “You don’t have to—”
I bit down…. Hard.
“SHIT!”
My new attacker released me reflexively, shoving me away from his body. I whirled to face him, just as the warm, coppery taste of blood filled my mouth…
CRASH!
I threw both arms over my face protectively as my kitchen window suddenly exploded inward. Glass and broken bits of the frame rained everywhere. It scattered across the floor, glinting over my countertops like jagged diamonds in the moonlight.
“GRAB HER!”
Another man took hold of my arms, from somewhere off to one side. Like the man I’d bitten, he wasn’t wearing gloves. Wasn’t wearing black…
“Get her out of here! Now, before—”
He never got to finish his sentence. The man from the bedroom came crashing over him, tacking him from behind. I saw kicks and punches, as the two figures scuffled across the floor. One of them pulled a knife. The other… a sleek black pistol.
Dallas!
I twisted hard, but I was too wrapped up. Whoever held me was strong — amazingly strong — maybe even stronger than my brother, Connor.
Only my brother wasn’t here. And that’s because my brother was dead.
CRACK!
A shot rang out. It was loud and impossibly obnoxious in my tiny kitchen, the yellow starburst from the pistol’s muzzle flaring brightly. For a second it illuminated the entire room, and I could see two more men. They were scuffling as well, throwing each other up against the wall even as the others writhed around on the debris-strewn floor…
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Darkness reigned again for a moment, and then suddenly I was outside. I could feel the cool desert wind, the bite in the air. I was still struggling, still kicking and screaming, but it was already too late. I was being dragged. Dragged down my side lawn…
… to where a large black truck was waiting, doors already open.
“NOOO!”
I kicked again, this time directing my foot downward. It stomped hard on the boot of the man who had me, and I felt his grip relax ever so slightly.
“LET GO OF…”
Another stomp, and this time I remembered to pull back with my toes. The bone of my heel cracked down hard, hopefully shattering the metatarsus of whoever owned that big, military-style boot.
“OWW… FUCK!”
The hands gripping my arms grew tighter, the fingers screwing into painful claws. Suddenly I was no longer attached to the groun
d — I was being lifted into the air, carried that last ten or twenty feet before being thrown, like a sack of potatoes, into the back of the ominous-looking truck.
“Motherfu--”
I bounced inside, just as two more men came sprinting from the house, chased by the men in black. They slid in quickly, one right beside me, the other into the passenger seat.
Both swung the doors closed, divorcing us from the chaos outside.
“GO GO GO!”
With the screech of tires and a shower of gravel, we took off down the street. I was surrounded by my captors now. The three of them and me.
This is it, the voice in my head told me. You’re finished.
I resisted one last time, trying to twist free. Once more, I was pinned. Grabbed by the wrists.
You’ll never see home again.
My teeth gnashed together as I spat on the floor. The inner voice was making me angry! Making me defiant.
Dallas…
Somehow I managed a look back over my shoulder, and all the fight drained out of me at once. I could feel a fist-sized lump forming in my throat. My heart, breaking...
My whole house was engulfed in flames.
Two
DALLAS
“Everyone okay? Anyone hit?”
The man in the passenger seat wiped his sweat away with one giant forearm. He slicked back a mop of thick blond hair and turned to look at us.
“Negative,” said the man sitting beside me. “But I think I got one of them a few times, center mass.” The driver merely shook his head.
“Vests?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Then damn.”
The blond turned his gorgeous blue eyes on me, looking me up and down. Taking stock of me. Maybe even trying to determine if I was hurt as well.
“My house!” I snarled. “Why is my house—”
All at once I was set free, and my arms were my own again. I started by rubbing my wrists, which hurt like hell, while staring venomously back at the guy with the goatee sitting next to me.
“Dallas…”
I tried not to squint at the mention of my name, but it was too hard. Glancing back again, I could see dark smoke rising in the distance, blocking a whole big swath of the bright, twinkling stars.
“Dallas listen,” the blond said, his voice placating. “I need you to know—”
It happened in a flash, and exactly the way I planned it. One moment I was distracting the guy next to me with a hand near his face, the next I was pulling his gun from its holster.
“Hey… HEY!”
I flipped the safety off the Glock 19 in one smooth motion and slid my finger through the trigger guard. From there it was only a quick swing of the arm… and I had the barrel jammed up against the back of the driver’s head.
“PULL OVER,” I said sternly. “Or I paint the windshield with this guy’s brains.”
Goatee put his hands up slowly. The blond guy did too.
“Easy, Dallas. We’re on your sid—”
“Fuck that!” I stammered. “If you were actually on my side you’d be back at my house, helping me put out that fire.”
They looked at each other, then back to me.
“Trust me,” I said. “Safety’s off. And if you think I’m kidding—”
Faster than my eye could even follow, the blond in the front seat disarmed me. His hands slid over mine, turned my wrist sideways until it hurt, and plucked the pistol from my open grip.
Shit.
Unbelievably, he pulled the slide back until it clicked, then handed the gun back to me.
“There,” he said. “One in the chamber now. Safety’s still off, so be careful.”
For a half-second I just sat there gaping in astonishment. Then I put the gun to the back to the driver’s head, this time pressing the barrel into the flesh of his thick neck.
“PULL. OVER.”
To my surprise, he did. Slowing down smoothly, he brought the truck to a stop on the shoulder of the road.
“Dallas,” said the man in front again. “We’re not here to hurt you…”
My teeth were clenched. “My house is burning!”
“We didn’t do that,” the man said.
“Then why are you abducting me?”
“We’re not abducting you,” the man with the goatee offered. “We’re saving you.”
I laughed out loud. It came out maniacal. “Saving me from what? The power you cut to my house? The fire you set to kill me?”
“Like I said, that wasn’t us,” said the blond. “Think about it. We’re the good guys. Now, who are the bad?”
My mouth twisted begrudgingly. I didn’t answer.
“The ones in black were the bad guys,” goatee went on. “The ones dressed head to toe in tactical nightgear, with infrared optics.”
“The ones we were fighting,” said the guy up front. “The ones we pulled you away from, to get you out of there.”
I thought back to the whole damned clusterfuck, starting with the asshole standing over my bed. He was definitely one of the bad guys. Ditto for the one who crashed through my window, also dressed in black.
Not the guy with the hand over my mouth, though. That was one of these assholes.
I glanced at the driver. His hands still rested on the steering wheel. One of them was bleeding. I could see a perfect imprint of my upper teeth…
“Yes, we grabbed you,” said the blond. It was like he was reading my mind. “But we did it to get you out. To keep you safe.” He jerked his head downward, toward the gun. “Why do you think your hands are free? Or you’re even conscious to begin with?” His mouth curled into a half-smirk. “If we really were the bad guys, would I give you back a loaded firearm?”
I hesitated… then very slowly lowered the weapon. The second I did, the driver eased off the brake and the truck started moving again.
“You’re Dallas,” said the man in front. “I’m Maddox. The guy next to you is Austin.” He tapped the driver. “He’s Kane.”
The driver, who still hadn’t said a single thing, pulled back into traffic.
“We served with Connor. All of us.”
My shoulders slumped as my body relaxed. The way they acted, the way they moved… it all made sense now. They were SEALs! Like my brother…
“Here,” said goatee, holding his hand out expectantly. “Give it over?”
KA-CHING!
With the flick of my wrist I yanked the slide back, ejecting the first round upward. It flipped through the air, end over end, until I caught it nimbly in my other fist.
“Fine then,” I growled. “Let’s talk.”
I handed him back the weapon butt-end first, the chamber open and empty. The pretty-boy in front looked on, as fascinated as he was impressed.
“Well shit,” he swore under his breath. “I guess she really is Connor’s sister…”
Three
DALLAS
The big truck plunged deeper into the desert, where the light pollution gave way to a billion stars. I liked to drive out here sometimes, when I had nothing to do. To get away from the Vegas suburbs, or just drive in the opposite direction of the strip.
“Water?”
I shook my head as the guy in front — Maddox, he said his name was — flipped the cap down on some big stainless flask. He tucked it away, and I went back to staring out the window.
Connor.
It was over a year now. More than fourteen months since my only brother had been killed in action. That was the Navy’s official report, anyway. Any other answers I’d tried to get from them had been vague and frustrating.
Oh, Connor…
Hands screwing into fists, I waited until my fingernails dug deep into my palms. It allowed me to concentrate on the pain. Distracted me from what I really wanted to do, which was break down and cry.
But I wasn’t crying in front of these guys. No fucking way.
What the hell happened to you?
Forget about life giving you lemons. Mine wa
s filled with three giant curveballs. Three tremendous “fuck you’s” spaced fairly evenly throughout my existence, starting at age ten when my mother contracted cancer. She was dead by my twelfth birthday, and dad died three years after that… presumably of a broken heart.
Our little family of four had been halved just in time for my sweet sixteen, which was about as sweet as biting into a lemon. But through it all, and even afterward, at least I had Connor.
OUCH!
I glanced down, into my palms. I’d drawn blood again. This time on both of them.
Smearing my hands on my sweatpants, I gazed back outside. The moon was just three-quarters full, but it was enough to cast the entire desert horizon in a hazy blue light.
Connor had been the ultimate brother, before and after our parent’s death. He’d been a father figure as well. He was old enough to assume guardianship of me, and we were able to stay in the house we were raised in. The house held memories for us. Memories of fun and family. Memories of holidays, and mom, and dad…
My brother didn’t really raise me, we raised each other. We were a team — totally inseparable. Bound by blood, but also through our baptism by fire. Everything I’d been through, he’d been through… and vice versa.
Graciously, unselfishly, Connor put aside his dreams of enlistment until after my eighteenth birthday. He was twenty-one when he made it to boot camp, and aced the physical screening tests so easily that he was fast-tracked through the Naval Special Warfare pipeline.
Connor became a SEAL, and I became solely independent. Not that I wasn’t independent before, but now I was completely, entirely on my own.
I still had my brother though. We still talked and texted and Skyped each other every chance we got. Sometimes he’d even come home, between deployments or stints away. Between the incredibly dangerous things he did that he never really wanted to talk about, and the places where I wasn’t able to reach him.
Those were my favorite memories of all — the times where we’d sit home watching old movies. Talking about mom and dad, while burning different meals together. The two of us were both terrible at cooking. Luckily, we were both great at ordering out.
