The American Soldier Collection 7: Their Sin City Showgirl (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  “We’ll see,” she replied, and he looked her over and she pulled her sweater tighter against her chest. She wore high-collared shirts and sweaters to hide all the bruising. Dexter had done a number on her. She hadn’t even remembered most of the fight. Just that her life depended on getting away from him. Too bad the motherfucker hadn’t died from the stab wound.

  That was another thing that really bothered her now. She didn’t like men staring at her body. She felt exposed, vulnerable, even though she hadn’t been raped. She supposed that it was from the way Dexter and Martin had touched her, forced her legs apart as they’d made her watch Tara play her role. Then of course Dexter fondled her breast as she let him in order to get free. Dooley did too. That piece of scum. She shivered from her thoughts. He wouldn’t get away with this. He couldn’t. He’d killed those women, and the McCues and Prentice had helped.

  “Are you okay?” Sandman asked. She looked at him, wondering what he was talking about. Had she actually lost track of her thoughts? She realized the truck had stopped, and that she hadn’t even noticed she was so lost.

  “Fine,” she said, holding the files to her chest, as she looked out the truck window. That’s when she saw the chief of police truck, and the uniformed man standing outside of it. He looked different from in the picture. Conway Lewis was big and mean looking, and he reminded her of Anthony. Her guard went up another notch, as if that were even possible at this point.

  * * * *

  “Holy shit. This is the woman in danger?” Brook Lewis asked Calder Murphy as they zoomed in on her as she stepped out of the truck. They were inside the house, tweaking their outside perimeter cameras. As Sandman pulled onto the main dirt road leading up to their property and home, they were all fully aware of the visitors coming. Having the surveillance cameras and the underwire security throughout their property, every dwelling including their house, made each of them feel secure. It helped to handle the paranoia they still had four years after retiring from the service. Each of them had their own way of dealing with their readaptation to society. Protecting innocent people from harm on a down-low basis helped to feed the need inside of them to protect and serve. Of course Conway lived to protect and serve, so being the chief of police kept him calm. He was typical of a chief with his hard expression, intimidating size, take-no-shit attitude, and he barely smiled. People feared him, and that kept the town and the surrounding areas safe.

  “She’s young,” Calder mumbled, zooming in on her face. He must have seen the bruise and gash to her cheek immediately as she got out of the truck, just as Brook had.

  “Damn, that looks like it hurts,” Brook added, feeling his gut clench. He hated to see women get smacked around. He had no tolerance for a man who could strike a woman or treat her badly. Nor did his buddies. Conway, especially, had no tolerance for it. He was called out on a few domestic violence calls outside of town, and he made sure to put the fear of God inside those men.

  Calder pulled back slightly, to zero in on the rest of her, including her expression as Conway was introduced by Sandman.

  “She looks untrusting,” Brook stated.

  “She looks pissed off and her eyes are darting around to everywhere else but to Conway. She’s hiding something.”

  “So what else is new? You know how this shit goes down. We don’t get much info at first, and then we use our skills to interrogate. She’s probably just scared. Sandman said this situation requires special care. Her whereabouts had to remain hidden.”

  “Well then you two should check over the security system again before dinner. I’ve got the stew cooking and the guest bedroom all made up and ready. I want you to be sure to block out the cameras in her bedroom,” Lincoln stated from the doorway. Their buddy was six feet three with blond crew cut hair, and tattoos up and down his forearms. He was well organized and on guard all the time. The man hardly ever slept, just like Calder.

  “We did, but we kept the ones on her window so we could also set the motion sensors outside. Anyone comes out of that window or makes it far enough to climb into that window, and we’ll all know it,” Calder stated.

  “Good. Then let’s go meet our new houseguest,” Lincoln said and then left the room. Brook glanced back at the flat screen television sets. The woman, their guest, was stunning, despite the look of fear in her eyes, and the way she constantly looked around her, ready to bolt. Something told Brook that this was going to be complicated. So why was he feeling a hint of interest and excitement as he headed out to the living room to meet her?

  * * * *

  J.J. looked around the living room as Conway gave her the tour. The man was so tall and big, he had to duck under the entryways throughout the home. As they entered through the kitchen, she could smell something delicious cooking on the stove in a huge pot. Her stomach rumbled and she swallowed hard. It had been days since she’d eaten a meal. Sure she picked at a few sandwiches, but since that night at the Emerald City Casino, she hadn’t had much of an appetite. She’d lost some weight, but worked out harder than ever. She hoped she could continue the working out, even if she had to improvise on things to use for weights. The Conway guy seemed really fit, and was filled with muscles. People worked for bodies like his. Maybe there was a home gym or at minimum some weights to use.

  He led her out to the living room, where three other men waited for them. She stopped short. Sandman nearly walked into her, and as he placed his hands on her shoulders, she sidestepped out of the way of his touch and nearly tripped. She must have looked like some crazy woman, but as she looked at them, prepared to retort viciously if necessary, none of them said a word. Their eyes only slightly changed, almost unnoticeably. But she noticed. She’d trained herself well. It was what made her a good undercover officer, and what also landed her in the middle of this mess.

  “My fault. Please, meet the rest of the team. This is Brook Lewis, Calder Murphy, and Lincoln Jones,” Sandman said as he pointed out each man. Brook nodded his head in a polite gesture to say hello. He probably realized he shouldn’t put out his hand for her to shake. He feared it would get bitten off. God, I feel like a caged animal. I’m so on edge.

  She nodded her head as she crossed her arms and looked around the room to avoid eye contact. That was so unlike her.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll get better acquainted over dinner. Is that stew you’re making, Lincoln?” Sandman asked.

  J.J. wondered if he was the only one who cooked. She should offer to lend a hand. It was what she normally would do when she came to someone’s home. But this wasn’t normal. This was a sentence. All because of what she’d witnessed and who was responsible.

  “It sure is. Want to stay and join us?” Lincoln asked.

  “Sorry. I wish I could but Grace made some plans, and if I head out now, I should get there in an hour or so.”

  “Okay. Maybe next time,” Lincoln said and gave a smile before he shook Sandman’s hand. The five men exchanged pleasantries and then Sandman turned toward J.J.

  “If you need anything, if you have any questions or concerns that Conway or the others can’t assist you with, then Conway will get in touch with me. It would be better to not take any chances communicating with me for a while. Just in case someone caught wind of this operation or whatever,” Sandman said as he held J.J.’s gaze. Sandman had a way about him. Even though he was huge and intimidating, he had kindness and empathy in his eyes. Frank had been right. Sandman was definitely trustworthy.

  “Okay. As long as these men understand that, too. If I have questions, I expect answers,” she added. When she looked at the four men behind Sandman, they seemed to take on a different look. It nearly unnerved her.

  Sandman glanced over his shoulder.

  “J.J., you’re safe here. Conway, Lincoln, Brook, and Calder can and will protect you. They’ll answer your questions, and I’m certain they’ll have questions of their own,” he said. She got his message. They were on a need-to-know basis. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened t
o her and why she was here. God knew if these men held some sort of alliance to Dooley. If they did, she was dead. She wasn’t ready to die. Not without a fight, and not before seeing Dooley suffer for his crimes.

  * * * *

  Lincoln filled the large bowls with stew as Brook sliced the loaf of bread from the local bakery in town. Calder was pouring some sweet tea when J.J. entered the room.

  “You can sit over here,” Conway stated.

  “Can I sit here instead?” she asked, and Conway noticed that it was the seat closest to the entrance to the living room, and where her back was against the wall and she could see around the room. It was his seat. It gave him a funny sensation inside. This woman was on edge and in survival mode.

  “Sure thing,” he said, and his team looked at him with concern, a bit surprised. He gave a stern expression and they went about getting things ready for dinner.

  They ate in silence until Lincoln questioned J.J. on why she wasn’t eating.

  “Don’t you like stew, honey?” he asked her in that special way Lincoln used before to ease the tension, and especially with a woman. Conway nearly laughed when J.J. shot daggers at Lincoln as if she could kick his ass.

  “Darlin’, we’re the good guys, remember? We’d like you to feel comfortable while you’re here. If there’s something you don’t like, then tell us. I can make something different for dinner.”

  J.J. dropped her fork and stood up.

  “I’m not hungry. You don’t need to cook for me. I don’t need anything. And as far as what I don’t like? Questions or bullshit.” She stepped away from the table and walked out of the room.

  Calder let out a long whistle.

  “Wow. You’re losing your touch, Lincoln,” Calder teased, and then took a bite full of beef stew.

  Lincoln stared at the doorway, and then looked at Conway. Conway gave him a somewhat understanding expression. The woman was on the run and hiding. She sure as shit wasn’t going to trust them just because Sandman said to. Conway would need more information on her if she kept this up. He lifted his fork and began to eat. He couldn’t help but think about the sound of her rumbling stomach earlier. She was hungry, and maybe hadn’t eaten right in quite some time.

  “Ease up and don’t ask her anything. She needs to eat,” Conway stated.

  “You think she hasn’t eaten in a while or something?” Lincoln asked.

  “I don’t know. I heard her stomach rumble before when we went through the kitchen.”

  “Fuck,” Lincoln said and then ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Don’t worry about it. We figure this out. We always do,” he said and then looked toward the doorway. J.J. was definitely complicated, but there was something about her that piqued his interest. It was in her jade-colored eyes. Despite the fear that he saw there, he noticed something else. Determination, strength, and fire. The woman was fighting, and if he were right, she was fighting for her life.

  Chapter 3

  The week had passed and it was the same routine. Conway watched her on video surveillance every night, sneaking downstairs to try and eat. She went from eating two forkfuls of food to four. Then she would cover her eyes and lay her head on the table. But it was tonight, right now as he watched her adjust her sweatshirt that he saw the gun she was carrying. He knew she had one under her pillow and a few others around the room. It was their job to know. Conway allowed it, but now, here she was walking around the house armed, and on edge. She could kill one of them. It was time to set some rules.

  Conway exited the surveillance room and headed down the hallway. He made his presence known. After all, he didn’t want to get his head shot off.

  When he walked into the kitchen, J.J. was standing there.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just grabbing a drink of water,” she said as she showed him the bottle.

  “Why don’t you try eating something? You can’t live on water,” he replied as he held his position in the doorway. He took up the entire space. He was six feet four inches tall and a master at martial arts. So were the others, but he and Lincoln conducted classes at the police academy.

  “I’m good,” she said.

  “No, you’re not. Eating two or three forkfuls of food a night won’t give you the nutrients you need.”

  She stared at him and then she figured it out and looked angry.

  “Spying on me with your little cameras?”

  “It’s my job. Just like it is to remind you that we’re here to protect you.”

  “How is that a reminder? Seems more like spying and trying to figure out my weakness.”

  God, this woman is paranoid. Who made her like this?

  “I’m not the kind of guy to mince words, so let’s get down to the bottom of this. Hand over the gun, and you can head back to bed.”

  She stared at him and now stood straighter. He lifted his hand out for her to give him the revolver.

  “Since we’re getting down to the point, fuck you. It’s my gun and it’s my right.”

  Why her denial to his order and the tone of her voice awoke something deep within him, Conway didn’t know. But the woman’s choice of words, the way she stood feminine and confident in his fucking kitchen, excited him. But he needed to calm her down before the others showed up too. He knew they were probably listening in. None of them had good sleeping habits. They awoke so easily to the smallest sounds.

  “Listen, I’m not going to argue about this with you. It’s not safe, and it’s not necessary to walk around with a gun.”

  “That’s your opinion.”

  “That’s a fact.”

  “It’s your opinion. This is your home, your rules, and your safe location. To me this is unknown territory, you and your team are strangers, and I don’t know anything about you or your abilities. Excuse me if I want to secure my own weapon as I walk around, but that’s not going to change.”

  “It will change. You’re hotheaded, you’re on the edge of a breakdown, and God knows if you even know how to use that thing.”

  “Oh, I know how to use it. You don’t know what I’ve been through. Lots of people and places have claimed to be safe, and then they’re infiltrated. Good night, Conway. My gun stays with me.”

  She headed toward him, and then stopped when he didn’t move.

  He stared down into her jade green eyes, and she suddenly uncrossed her arms.

  He felt the attraction immediately. It seemed that she felt it too, because suddenly he was moving out of the way and she was sprinting to her room.

  Holy shit. Where the hell did that come from?

  * * * *

  J.J. couldn’t sleep. She was tossing and turning, and kept waking up with a jolt or in a sweat. The nightmares were getting worse, and so were the shakes. She even cut off having coffee and other caffeine related drinks. But it wasn’t working. Knowing that today was Sunday, she decided to do something to keep her mind off the nightmares and the shaking. She wished she could work out, or go for a run. But that didn’t seem feasible. She wanted to ask the guys, but they disappeared during the day, except for one of them. One of them was always around to keep watch. Usually it was Brook.

  She walked into the kitchen. It was early, and the guys were up by six. The clock read 5:00 a.m. She pulled out some pans, and took the bacon from the refrigerator. Looking around the cabinets, she found the ingredients she needed to make pancakes and then a container with chocolate chips. She decided to make chocolate chip pancakes and bacon. Although she felt kind of funny doing this and making herself at home in their kitchen, she needed this. She needed to find some kind of normalcy to what was happening.

  She didn’t know these men. They were huge, they were intimidating, and supposedly retired from the military. When she asked further questions, Sandman stated that it wasn’t important for her to know. Hadn’t she said the same thing to them about her? Wouldn’t she remain silent and not share too much about who she really was and why she was here? She was kept up for too long, an
d forced to stop everything that would make her feel strong again. She wanted to exercise, to hit a punching bag and release some anger.

  Before the first piece of bacon hit the pan, Lincoln entered the kitchen.

  “What are you up to?” he asked with an attitude.

  “Cooking breakfast. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “I know,” he stated and then walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. She started that, too, as she gathered the ingredients.

  She hoped that she hadn’t made any sounds. She had slept with the pillow partially over her head in hopes of muffling any sounds she may make during her sleep. It was crazy and a bit uncomfortable considering that she awoke more often than not, feeling Dexter choking her against the car, the pillow blocking her breathing making it worse.

  She shivered from the thought, despite the turtleneck she wore, and nearly burnt the bacon.

  “Whoa. Hey, let me take care of that,” Lincoln said as he slowly took the tongs from her hand, and placed his hand on her waist to guide her out of the way.

  She looked up at him.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered and turned toward the bowl. She hadn’t even realized what she was doing. Am I losing my mind?

  “J.J.? Are you okay?” Lincoln asked her.

  She saw the concern on his face. His blond crew cut hair, the way his shirt clung to tight, large muscles, gave her an odd sensation. His green eyes seemed filled with concern, as well as the hard expression on his chiseled face. The man was very handsome in a rugged, hard, experienced kind of way. He was also older. The tattoos on his forearms, similar to Calder’s, gave her the impression that he was hard, and dangerous. But then, he spoke so softly to her. Was it a way to draw her in, and then pounce?

  “What’s going on?” Conway asked as he entered the room.

  “Nothing,” she whispered and turned toward the mixing bowl. She needed to focus on the task at hand and not the terrifying thoughts of her undercover operation. She could handle this, just like she’d handled everything else thus far.