I struggled hard, and with each tug of my arm, he’d punch me somewhere.
Neck. Kidneys. Shoulder. Ribs. Face.
Over and over, he hit me, trying to keep me still, and over and over I struggled until I just… couldn’t.
There was no fight left in me.
“No!” I cried, tasting dirt, saliva, and blood. “Please, no.”
“Ahh, the sweet sound of begging coming from a girl so high and mighty.”
I wanted to throw up.
He was such a piece of shit.
That’s when I heard the sweetest sound to ever grace my ears. It calmed me down so quickly that a rush of euphoria rolled through me.
Absinthe Solomon’s voice.
“Get your filthy fucking hands off of her.”
Then the sound of punching filled the air.
Grunts. Curses. Then a bone-wracking thump.
That’s when I passed out for good. At least, only after I felt the sweetest touch on the edge of my jaw. The only place, likely, that wasn’t bruised or bleeding because he couldn’t reach that particular spot with the way I’d been positioned.
When next I woke, it was to a sterile-looking room.
My eyes peeled open, and I was staring at a white ceiling with very bright lights.
“How the fuck does something like this happen?” I heard my father growl. “We left her in your care, and you shit all over that. And now you’re sending the man that saved her to prison? What a crock of fucking shit.”
I turned my head to see the general standing there with my father all but thumping him in the chest with his finger.
My dad was in his face, pissed as hell, and towering over the general.
My mother was standing at his side, looking just as pissed. And then there was my grandfather, staring right along with my mother, quietly seething.
My brother was there as well, flanking my father, arms across his thickly muscled chest, jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was having to control his temper or he was going to deck the hell out of the general.
Oh, boy.
“Dad,” I whispered softly.
My father’s head whipped around so fast that he all but caused himself whiplash.
He was there in the next second, leaning over the bed.
“Baby,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”
No, I wasn’t okay.
But I also didn’t want him to be hurting the five-star general that was currently the only man that could make my life a living hell.
“You’ve been asleep for days,” he whispered. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I wasn’t okay. Not at all.
And I knew without a shadow of a doubt I didn’t want to return to the Army.
Not after what I’d just gone through.
“No, I’m not okay.” I swallowed hard. “I want to go home.”
His eyes turned soft. “You’re coming home. As of this afternoon, you’ve been medically discharged.”
Thank. God.
I closed my eyes in relief, but then something my father had said to me brought me up short.
Eyes flashing open, I stared at my dad. “The man that saved me. Drill Sergeant Solomon. Where is he? Is he here?”
My father’s jaw clenched. “No, honey. He’s not. He’s been detained for further questioning for attempted murder of that piece of shit Brees.”
CHAPTER 1
Everybody is a dumb whore.
-Sin’s secret thoughts
SIN
Two years later
Dishonorably discharged.
Moved to Huntsville State Penitentiary.
Getting out from under the torturer’s thumbs.
Thank fucking God.
I didn’t think that my life could get any worse.
But then I’d gone to Leavenworth, and I realized that there were worse things that could happen to a man. Like being starved. Deprived of things that most people took for granted—food, water, light, sound, touch.
Honestly, the total chaos that was Huntsville Penitentiary was downright relieving.
The shouting. The yelling. The fights.
In the military prison, there was total silence.
There were no fights. There was no screaming.
Honestly, it was like night and day.
I felt like I could finally breathe again.
Hell, even the man trying to beat the absolute shit out of me was making me feel more alive.
I had a fuckin’ smile on my face when I reared back and punched the little prick that thought I was easy pickings in the face.
The satisfying crunch of his nose breaking made my heart fucking sing.
“All right, boys,” the sweet, feminine voice called from behind me. Her zero-tolerance had my cock stiffening in the stupid pants I was forced to wear. “Break it up before we have to do anything drastic.”
I let the man go that I was holding and whirled.
The man’s body hitting with a satisfying thump didn’t even cause me concern.
What did cause me concern was seeing her in my prison.
The female officer at the speaker’s side flinched, her hand going to the baton at her side.
But the woman that I was currently staring at with narrowed eyes didn’t so much as recoil.
She knew that I wouldn’t hurt her.
Hell, I was in here because of her, after all.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I all but snarled.
She couldn’t be here.
Not in this place, among these men.
Murderers. Rapists. Child molesters. Robbers. Burglars.
Men that had done the unthinkable.
Men that I would kill if they harmed one hair on her head.
Did she know the kind of power that she held over me?
I didn’t think she did.
I doubted she knew that all she had to do was point and say ‘kill him’ and I’d do it.
I’d fallen in love with a twenty-one-year-old recruit. I’d fallen in love with her from afar. I’d admired her daring will. Her bravado. Her utter confidence in every single thing that she did.
She would’ve made one hell of a soldier.
The Army could’ve used a woman like her.
If anyone could’ve made it to the top, it would’ve been her.
Only Brees, the POS—piece of shit—had ruined it for her.
I hadn’t seen her in years.
Ages had passed, yet the way I felt about her hadn’t changed.
I still wanted her with a viciousness that might scare her if she knew.
“I work here.” She pointed her finger at me. “What are you doing here?”
I had a feeling she knew exactly why I was there.
I narrowed my eyes. “How long have you worked here?”
She grinned at me, her perfectly white teeth no longer fucked-up from taking a punch straight to the mouth. “A week.”
Exactly the same amount of time that I’d known that I would be coming here.
How convenient.
I gritted my teeth and tried not to allow my eyes to roam.
But that would be like telling water not to flow.
It just wasn’t possible.
My mind and eyes were starved for her.
They hadn’t seen her in so long that just having her in front of me was like getting the first breath of fresh air after being buried alive.
Her long blonde hair was once again up in a bun. I’d never gotten to see it down.
I had a feeling that if I had, I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing it up ever again. So that was probably a good thing.
Her bright blue eyes were intoxicating. I couldn’t look away from the depths.
“You know him?” the other female guard asked, sounding worried.
“I do,” Blaise drawled. “We’re old acquaintances.”
I nearly snorted.
Luckily, I was able to control myself.
Acquaintances my ass. We were ne
ver that to each other.
I knew she had no clue that I had the kind of feelings that I had for her. Just like I knew that she didn’t realize that Brees had only taken an interest in her because of me.
A long time ago, in our late twenties, Brees and I had both been awarded the rank of drill sergeant. Me because I’d wanted it. Brees because he’d been forced to do it.
See, all of my brothers had been drill sergeants.
Coke. Jim. Jack. Tom. Bronx. Bellini and Ale—all of whom were either currently a drill sergeant or had been one in the past.
We were all there because we wanted to be.
Brees? Not so much.
He’d hated being forced to do it, and that had left him bitter.
What made him even more bitter was my obvious desire to be exactly where I was at.
That’d pissed him off, made him mad, and ultimately started the anger that never seemed to go away no matter how much I tried to distance myself from him.
What made it even fucking worse was the fact that we always ended up at the same damn place.
Seriously, I swear to God, it was like Brees was being placed in my path to test my patience.
Then Blaise Mackenzie had lit my world on fire.
All it’d been was one phone call from a friend—keep an eye on her.
Wanting to make sure that I gave that to her, I started to take an interest. Showing no favoritism, but also just keeping an eye open to ensure that she was okay.
And she had been. Until I started to look at her as something altogether different. Started to stare a little too long. Started to want her in ways that a superior officer shouldn’t want someone lower rank than him.
See, the Army seemed to frown on things like that.
Until Brees had realized my obsession, things had gone well.
Then he’d started to treat her badly. Doing things that he knew would provoke a reaction out of me.
And shit had just degraded from there.
“Don’t make us break up a fight between you and another inmate again, or you’ll have to visit your cell for longer than you’d find comfortable,” the other guard with Blaise ordered.
She was tough-as-nails. I knew that without being told.
But she was small, like Blaise.
If the men in this prison really wanted to, they could overpower the both of them very easily.
We might not get anything out of it but shot dead, but we could easily take them down had we really wanted to.
Which made my heart lurch.
I didn’t like the idea of Blaise being here.
Not. At. All.
“Watch over yourself, Mackenzie,” I urged.
The other guard took it as a threat. But Mackenzie took it as it was. A worried man needing to make sure that she watched over herself when he couldn’t.
Then, before I could do anything stupid like pull her to me and kiss her, I walked away.
But not before I heard the other guard say, “Was that a threat?”
I slowed to hear Blaise’s reply. “No threat.”
That’s right.
I was never going to be a threat to her.
Even if it made me really goddamned stupid.
CHAPTER 2
I either drink coffee or I say bad words. You choose which one you want.
-Sin’s secret thoughts
SIN
Six months later
“Who’s that?”
I didn’t have to turn around to know who my brother was talking about.
“That’s Blaise,” I said, knowing without looking at her that he could tell that something had changed. “She right behind me?”
Bronx’s eyes flicked up to the woman I could practically feel at my back, then back down to me. “No. But she is leaning against the wall, eating you up with her eyes.”
I felt my stomach dip. “She’s the reason I’m here.”
My brother could probably guess.
I mean, it wasn’t like I’d kept why I’d gone to jail a secret. Then again, anything would be impossible to keep a secret from my overprotective brothers.
I had seven brothers in total, and all of them knew what was wrong and what had gone down within two hours of it happening. One, because most of my brothers were military or former military, meaning they still had enough connections to hear about the shit that went down with me fairly quickly—as I did with them.
Two, because it made national news—me kicking some guy’s ass to the point of near death.
Too bad I hadn’t finished the fuckin’ job.
If anyone deserved to be dead, it was fuckin’ Brees.
The prick.
Now he was off, living and happy and being a dick to other people, while I had to live in this hellhole and Blaise had to live with the knowledge that her attacker was still out there.
Now he lived with a permanent seat in a wheelchair, loss of function in both of his hands, and no military career just like me.
Though, if anyone deserved to be dishonorably discharged, it was that asshole.
“You’re the reason you’re here,” Bronx countered. “You never could deny the pretty little blonde fairies.”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s not a fuckin’ fairy.”
“She is,” Bronx disagreed. “She may be able to hold her own—at least for a small amount of time—but she’s a fairy nonetheless.”
Bronx’s comments might as well have come out of my own damn mouth.
Because that was the exact way I felt.
This place? This penitentiary that held murderers, drug dealers, rapists, pedophiles, and hell, even vengeful innocent people? This place was a hotbed for violence.
People were pissed off that they were in here.
And they weren’t going to go easy on a guard just because she was smaller than them and a woman. They would go just as hard on her as they would any person standing in the way of the thing they wanted.
Which was why, when she was on shift, I always had this sort of… feeling. A feeling that made me nauseous. Scared that I might look away and she might be in some trouble, and I wouldn’t be able to get there fast enough—or at all.
“I’ve been thinking much the same thing,” I admitted. “It terrifies me that she’s going to get hurt one day and I’m going to have a locked goddamn cell door between us and all I’ll be able to do is watch.”
Bronx’s eyes took in my shadow, the one that was there at all times if she was able.
“You know,” Bronx murmured. “She could be anywhere all over the room, yet she’s here, next to you, so she can see you. The only way she’d be able to see you better is to get behind me, but that would put her too close to the douche behind us. So she’s being smart, while also letting you know that she’s not far away.”
I felt my stomach clench because Bronx was right.
That was her way of letting me know that she was close. That she wasn’t going to go anywhere.
I raised my hands and rubbed the palms down the length of my face.
The metal of the handcuffs around my wrists clinked.
I really fucking hated handcuffs.
Like, if I never saw, heard, or felt cold metal clinking against cold metal again, it would be too soon.
I heard that goddamn sound in my dreams.
“I talked to another lawyer today,” Bronx said, surprising me. “He said he thinks he could maybe get you…”
I held up my hand. “Bronx, we’re done wasting money. I know that you want to help. And I know you think that if you find just the right person, it’ll get me out of here. But it won’t. If I was able to be out, I’d be out. I’m here. For another four fucking years at least. This is my business. Let me deal with it. I’m the one who fucked up, so I’m the one that’s going to have to pay for that fuck up.”
Bronx’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve filled out my paperwork. I’m officially out of the US Army as of next week.”
I felt my back stiffen.
“
But Bronx, you…” I started, feeling a surge of emotion roll through me.
Bronx held up his hand this time.
“What were you just saying about it being your business, and to let you handle it?” Bronx drawled.
I wanted to reach across the table and deck him in the throat.
Although Bronx might’ve been okay with it, I was sure the guards wouldn’t be.
Which was why, instead of strangling him, I clenched my hands into fists on top of the table and narrowed my eyes.
“You’re being dumb,” I growled.
“I’m being honest,” he countered. “I can’t work for a place that just leaves its most valued and trusted employees to die a slow death. I just can’t. That’s why the rest of us are getting out.”
“The rest of you?” I felt like I was strangling.
“All of us are getting out. Jim has two more months then he’s out. Ale and Jack are out as of last week. Tom’s out in four months,” Bronx spoke nonchalantly.
“Son of a bitch.” I felt a headache forming behind my eyes. “Why?”
The ‘why’ sounded strangled.
“Because we love you, brother,” Bronx said. “And family sticks together. Also, did you know that Ames is spreading it far and wide that she’s going to sue you? She ‘can’t raise this baby alone without some help financially.’”
I felt sick to my stomach for an altogether different reason.
Linda Ames, better known as Drill Sergeant Ames, had been seeing Brees when I’d beaten the shit out of him.
They hadn’t been married, and when Brees was dishonorably discharged, he had lost all of his benefits. Ames hadn’t received anything from Brees.
And when she’d found out she was pregnant through the first half of my sentencing, she’d let it be known far and wide that I was at fault for her baby not having a working father.
Though, let’s just admit now that Brees wasn’t at fault for attacking a female recruit and trying to rape her in the dark.
No, Brees wasn’t at fault at all…
“Time’s up!” I heard a male voice bellow. “Everybody out.”
I sighed and looked at my brother.
And, before anyone could say anything, I leaned forward and smacked my brother on the head with the open palm of my hand.
Kitty Kitty Page 2