The Virgin And The Hero (Innocent Series Book 2)

by Kendall Duke

  “Excuse me,” I said. It was a strange sound; I knew it would be. Everything was pitched so high in that diner, you could practically hear the blood pooling on the floor. Everything was so quiet except for that piece of shit’s voice and the panicked jangle of the register. It was her first day. She’d probably only opened that register once or twice, and never by herself. Marcus had too much common sense to come out from the back; he was probably lining up a good shot through the pantry window. Hopefully he heard me and wouldn’t shoot first.

  I knew the old vet had my back. He waited, watching, his hand inside of his coat.

  “What the fuck—” The guy’s eyes twitched towards me in the mirror behind the register. The girl, the beautiful copper haired girl, focused on the task at hand and used the borrowed seconds to try and get that damn thing to open. She knew he was going to shoot her, but she kept hoping for the best, trying to do something that would get him to leave peacefully. The guy wasn’t going to leave peacefully though; he wasn’t leaving at all. “Did you say something?”

  I turned towards him very slowly, as if he were a perfectly normal human being to have a casual word with at the counter, instead of a psycho with a gun. “Yep.”

  “What the fuck?” He said it again, as if he had someone to talk to, as if he hadn’t just shot at his friends. As expected, he took offense at my existence; he paid less attention to the girl, and moved slightly closer to me. “What the fuck did you say?”

  “I said, ‘excuse me.’” The guy laughed, and let go of the girl’s arm. I waited. He took a quick step towards me, decreasing the distance between us, then swung the gun at me.

  That was all I needed.

  I grabbed the coffee pot she’d left on the counter and smashed him in the face with it, scorching his already blistered skin. His arm swung wildly and I seized it, then slammed his wrist on to the edge of the counter, snapping the gun out of his grasp. He was strong—he had a wiry build anyway, but with the meth his adrenaline must have been crackling—but I was stronger, and had him down on the floor in half a second. The whole thing happened very quickly.

  I blinked when I heard the screams.

  It was the girl. The beautiful girl. It was almost as if she’d been holding it in until now. And as soon as her eyes met mine she seemed to realize what she was doing, and stopped herself.

  I had a hard time not looking at her. The meth-head made it easier on me, though. Gave me something to do.

  The old vet was behind me with his own gun, and Marcus was pulling the girl towards the back, trying to reassure her. I heard sirens then and knew the cops would be there any second. The meth-head was going crazy, trying to get out from under me, but I twisted him around and pinned his neck under my knee. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  I fought off the urge to crush his windpipe. He’d pointed a gun at her. Terrorized three people, shot a twenty year old kid who was gasping for breath over there. God only knew what else he’d done in the last twenty four hours alone.

  But I didn’t want to scare her more.

  When the police arrived the vet slowly placed his gun on the counter and put his hands in the air. They didn’t approach me yet, thank God—there were three of them, and if they’d been trigger-happy I would’ve headed for that permanent exit without ever seeing her again.

  Don’t think I didn’t notice the absurdity of that thought—but I had it all the same.

  I wanted to make sure she was alright.

  I knew this sort of thing was exactly the kind of event that changed you forever. She would be haunted by it, no matter what she did or what she was like before—that ray of sunshine I saw in her smile might be a little bit darker now. Another wave of anger rushed through me and I had to pull my knee back; the meth-head was turning blue. But I also knew some people did alright. They lived with it, and they had good lives. I had a couple buddies like that.

  Maybe she had people. A good family, someone who could hold her hand at night when the bad dreams came; I knew they would, and it made me so furious I almost didn’t hear the officers telling me to take a step back and put my hands up. Thankfully the vet barked my name, because he understood what was going on in my head. “Jordan!” I didn’t even know he knew what it was.

  I did what they said. The meth-head scrambled up beside me, his eyes wild, and had the audacity to point his finger at me. “He’s crazy, man—look what he did to my face!”

  I wasn’t expecting the voice that came from behind me.

  ~~~

  Jessica

  “He saved my life,” I snapped, once again surprised by my own ballsiness. Unflusterable, yes, but ballsy? No, not usually. But I felt strangely protective of the man who’d come to my rescue. Did it appear that he needed my help? No, not at all. But in spite of all these contradictions I spoke up again. “He probably saved everybody’s life—he’s a hero.”

  Something on my savior’s face twisted as if he didn’t like that word, but the police nodded and pointed their guns at The Mean Dog. He put his hands up and started babbling in a high voice, then suddenly charged them. Mr. Blue Eyes wasn’t having it, and he threw him back on the ground and had him immobile in half a second. He definitely had some practice with this sort of thing; he didn’t even break a sweat, and when I saw his pulse in his neck it was beating in an even, steady rhythm. Not even breathing hard, like he’d just done a difficult bench press and was resting between reps.

  I was so frightened I almost didn’t feel the flutter in my stomach, but there it was. I rested my hand on my belly and thought about how I’d almost died and how many things I had left that I wanted to do and I swear, that flutter went right to my heart.

  I looked at his eyes, and wished he would gaze into mine. I looked at his shoulders and his strong arms and broad hands, and I wished he would wrap them around me. I would feel safe forever in those arms.

  And right now I was pretty sure I wouldn’t feel safe ever again.

  The officers took The Mean Dog outside just when the ambulance arrived, and I was so grateful that kid was still conscious. They got him on a stretcher and out the door as fast as possible, and I heard one of the EMTs say that they thought he would be okay. The police asked me to come to the station to give my statement, since the diner was kind of wrecked. Marcus told me he would clean up and pay me for the full shift, which I thought was very nice, although without tips I knew it wouldn’t be much. Certainly wouldn’t cover rent, but I still had the shelter so…

  Suddenly that was really unappealing—even more so than before. Before, the shelter was a last resort, a place to move on from, sure, but a safe place to stay… And now I wouldn’t feel safe.

  “I want him to take me,” I said, and I could tell that the officer that was speaking to me had been in mid-sentence. “I’m sorry,” I said, and I could feel the blush that was on my face working itself down my neck and collar bones. “I just meant… I want to ride with him, I don’t want to go alone or in a police car—”

  “That’s alright, ma’am,” the officer said, smiling kindly, which was good, because the hero in question, who was standing nearby, looked downright miffed.

  “He’ll do it,” Wallace said, and thwapped the hero on the back. There was something final in the way he said it, like an old drill sergeant who wasn’t used to being questioned. “Go on.” The hero started to walk towards me, and then seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped himself. Instead, he turned towards the door and began walking out to his truck. “Jordan!” Wallace really did sound like a drill sergeant. “The lady’s waiting.”

  The hero turned back towards me, and without once raising his eyes to mine, he extended his hand.

  I grabbed it and held on for dear life.

  ~~~

  Jordan

  I was a goner.

  I was also the envy of every man there. The old vet’s eyes crinkled but he didn’t smile so much as lift his eyebrows. Every single police officer happened to be male, and they were all grinning at
that beautiful girl even when she was rude as all get out and told them she didn’t want a ride in their cars. I didn’t want the trouble—I didn’t want this eruption in my chest getting out of hand, I didn’t want the hassle of dealing with a woman, especially one that wasn’t afraid to talk, that gave me a hard-on just by breathing, one that I could easily see in my bed—

  But as soon as I felt the warm skin of her little freckled hand in my palm, I was a goner.

  I knew it. The old vet knew it. Marcus saw and gave me a big old toothy grin, like he’d gone and done me a favor.

  But they hadn’t, and I knew it.

  All the same, I knew if I had the chance I’d never let go of that little hand, either.

  ~~~

  Jessica

  I never wanted to let him go.

  When he let me grab his hand and began pulling me out of the restaurant to head downtown, I could feel the warmth spreading out from where our skin met like a gentle submersion in warm water, as if I’d laid down in tropical seas. Calm, hypnotic heat… I was wearing a blush like a mask, and it didn’t give me confidence, but I couldn’t help it. I noticed that the warmth was spreading lower on my body, too, and I hadn’t felt that in a long time… I was only twenty and had never gone all the way but I knew what I was feeling. I wondered if he could tell, and it made me blush even more, which I wouldn’t have thought possible but there you go.

  He opened the door of his truck for me and I climbed inside, wishing that didn’t mean I had to drop his hand. It felt awkward snatching it up again once we were in the truck but I still wanted to, and when they brought The Mean Dog out behind us and put him in the police truck I found I was doing it even though it embarrassed me. He let me, but he wouldn’t look at me. I squeezed his fingers and felt my lip trembling, but I’d be damned if I cried again. The Mean Dog glared at me through the window of the cruiser and I felt his hand tighten over mine. At least I was safe for now.

  But what if he got out?

  What if he somehow won his trial, or his sentence was really short and he was back in town before I had the chance to start over somewhere? What if—

  I realized I was crying when I heard his voice. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said, and although it was raspy and sounded just as tired as he looked I could hear the kindness in his voice. He spoke softly, like I did when one of the animals was hurt or frightened. “He can’t get you in here. I promise.”

  I wasn’t crying hard, thank goodness, but I could feel the tears on my cheeks. Between the tears and the blushing I was really embarrassed all of a sudden. “I’m so sorry,” I said, and my voice shook, as if the terror were just now seizing my body. “I… I feel like an idiot.”

  “Why?” I glanced over at him and finally, finally his eyes were on my face. And then I really did turn into an idiot because they were the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen, and I kind of lost my train of thought. He surprised me; I felt his other hand cup my cheek, the rough skin of his palm against my skin as he held my hand tight. It was like an electrical current, that touch, spreading through my nerves and setting me on fire from within. I realized I was holding my breath and forced the air into my lungs so I could speak.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I couldn’t break his gaze. It was like I was hypnotized. “I feel like an idiot for being such a mess. You seem fine, and I’m…” I swallowed, forcing myself to calm down. I tried to focus on the heat from his hands, the dream of what those hands could do to me. It worked, maybe a little too well, and my blush came back.

  He removed his hand from my cheek and leaned back to look at me. I threaded my fingers through his so he couldn’t pull that away too. The other cars were leaving the lot, and The Mad Dog was long gone. But I felt like my heart wouldn’t slow down, and as much of that was due to my crush on the hero, most of it was due to the fear that wouldn’t leave me.

  “You’re going to be fine,” he said, in that same steady, low voice. “This guy’s going away for a long time, maybe forever.” He locked eyes with me. “And if he ever did come back, you’d just tell me, right?”

  I smiled. Yeah, sure, because in twenty years this handsome hero would be at my beck and call. A girl could dream, I guess. “It’s a deal.”

  He squeezed my hand and we took off towards the police station.

  I hadn’t even told him my name. At least Wallace had clued me in to his.

  ~~~

  Jordan

  I never wanted to let go of that precious hand. That beautiful little freckled hand, with the sassy bright blue nail polish and the rough pads of callous where I didn’t expect them. She had three dog bite scars on the webbing of her thumb—that’s a hell of a lot. Maybe she was a trainer? But I could feel the surprising strength in her fingers, the weight of more muscle than you could see. She worked hard with that strong, soft body.

  Thinking about that made me start to sweat a little bit, but I still couldn’t let go of her hand.

  She’d as good as just agreed to marry me, but she didn’t know that yet.

  If that motherfucker ever came near her, I would rip him to pieces. I already knew that—I knew it took every last bit of my strength to keep myself from revealing that I was an animal to this woman, this little bright lovely thing no man could possibly deserve, but especially someone like me. If it took ten years or thirty or the rest of my life, I would make sure she was safe. Always.

  Safe from him, safe from everything. And safe from me.

  Except… I just couldn’t let go of that little hand.

  She deserved better. I’d barely spoken to her and I already knew what she was: kind. Generous. Hard-working. Strong. She deserved a husband that would never keep her up, yelling with nightmares—she deserved someone that could stroke that tender cheek and love her with gentleness until the end of his days.

  I would think about her till the end of mine, but I had to do it from a distance. For her sake.

  Because I’m not gentle. I’m not tender. I’m not even a good man, let alone a hero, like she’d called me back at the diner.

  If I had her… I couldn’t let myself think about what I would do with that body, that brazen mouth, those hard-working hands. The breasts hiding under that uniform. The round hips below.

  Her fingers tightened in mine, laced through even though I knew I must be squeezing her. I slid down in my seat to hide how excited my damn cock was at just the thought of her. And then something kind of funny occurred to me, and I chuckled. Didn’t even recognize the sound.

  “What?” She blinked up at me, those huge brown eyes framed with the longest lashes I’d ever seen. “What’s funny?” That blush… It gave me nothing but dirty thoughts, so I kept my eyes on the road.

  “I don’t know your name,” I told her, and felt my mouth crook into a smile. It’d been so long that I didn’t really know how to do it. “Seems a little odd, considering what just happened, that’s all.”

  To my surprise, she laughed too; it was the best sound, the brightest sound, the only sound I wanted to hear for the rest of my life. It was deeper than I thought it would be, and started in her chest, shaking her all over. I had to adjust myself again.

  “I’m Jessica,” she said, and smiled up at me. All of that sunlight, directed right at me. It was incredible. I couldn’t help but smile back. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jordan.”

  “How do you know my name?” I watched her in the rearview mirror, afraid to look at her directly for too long. We were getting close to the station and if I managed to keep from proposing to her before we got there I felt like that would be a miracle.

  “Wallace said it, when we were leaving…” She blushed again, and I swear I felt my stomach flip. “When I was such a… I was rude to the officers, but I hope you can forgive me…” And then her lip trembled. She might cry again. I squeezed those precious fingers, my whole body clenching with a protective instinct I didn’t understand. “I just feel safe with you. Only you.”

  Okay, that did it.

&nbs
p; My heart was going a million miles an hour.

  I’d met—no, I hadn’t even met her—I’d seen this girl for the first time a little over an hour ago. I hadn’t even known her name until a minute ago. But I could swear she was meant for me. She was supposed to be mine, and I was supposed to be hers.

  I told myself to settle down.

  I told myself to stop dreaming.

  But my heart was still plowing ahead, racing for all it was worth. I could crack a meth-head in half without breaking a sweat, but fifteen minutes talking to this beautiful girl and I could feel it beading on my back. She did something to me.

  Alright, I told myself, I just have to get through this, and then I can go home, pass out, and spend the weekend forgetting about her. Looks like my libido’s back, so maybe I can meet someone else—someone who won’t make me need her smile, who won’t blush like that, someone who I wouldn’t die for. Or there was still time to sign up for another shift at the mill, sweat out the memory of her in an eighteen hour shift.

  I still couldn’t let go of her hand.

  ~~~

  Jessica

  My goodness, but he was handsome.

  So handsome. There was a dimple in his right cheek when he smiled—something I could tell he hardly ever did. And those curls… One of them lay across the center of his forehead, just like Superman. He was built kind of like that too, broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist, long legs that made his stride the length of a racehorse’s… And those eyes. Wow! So handsome.

  Jordan held my hand tight and I let myself enjoy it. I hadn’t enjoyed the touch of another human being that much since my parents died in the wreck, back when I was ten. I had a lot of great foster families, but they were always short stays for one reason or another; my social worker always said apologetically that I had the worst timing of anyone she ever met. They would get pregnant with twins right when I got settled in, or have to take in three of their own sister’s kids, that kind of thing. But when I was sixteen I was officially adopted, which was great… For three months. Then, my adoptive mother died, and my adoptive father was not a great parent, and became an abusive one. When I stopped coming back, I knew he wouldn’t file a missing person report, and I was on my own.