Jonas's Redemption: A Standalone Romantic Suspense (Titan Security Book 2)

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

  That question instantly led to Jonas asking another, not even giving me the option to ask him one. “What do you have planned for your next rush?”

  My hand moved on its own accord, giving a playful tap to Jonas’s forearm. Geez, even there, he was hard as a rock. Didn’t this man have an ounce of fat on him? I wonder what he looks like naked. Nope, not going there. I quickly shook the thought off and forced my mind to focus on the subject matter despite Jonas being a mighty fine topic to focus on. “That’s easy,” I said playfully. “I want to try driving a racecar over at the speedway track in Daytona Beach. I first want to ride with an experienced driver, and then try it myself.”

  I looked up at Jonas, since we were sitting side by side, and wondered if he’d make a remark about how dangerous it was. However, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: he was smiling like crazy and looked relaxed. He opened his mouth a couple times, and then looked away, before turning back and finally asking, “When this all winds down, would you mind if I tagged along for the drive? I didn’t know they had anything like that, so I’m kind of curious to see what it’s all about and maybe give it a go too.”

  Pleased he wasn’t judging my crazy desires, like my sister and parents did, I answered, “Sure. It’d be nice to go do some of my wild adventures with someone who can appreciate them.”

  We were surprised to learn we were both adrenaline junkies, needing that fix to keep us happy in life. Okay, now I was curious, so I inquired, “What kind of crazy adventures have you experienced that had your heart pounding like you were living on the edge?”

  This was the key to get Jonas talking. I thought he’d only list a couple things, but twenty minutes later, he was still talking. “Let’s see, I’ve been to a shooting range, been in a paintball war against my fellow Titan peers, swum with whale sharks, gone skydiving, bungee jumping, base jumping…” His words filled my mind with all kinds of new ideas of things to try.

  Despite Jonas’s words being exhilarating, the effects of the beer he’d found to go with our meals were weighing out. I tried staying awake, using my hands to prop up my head, while I listened intently to his tales of adventure. I don’t really recall the last thing he said, only the darkness finding its way into my mind.

  “Alyssa, watch out!” I called out to her as I tried to reach her with one hand. With my other, I pushed my other friends back before jumping out of the way at the last minute as the vehicle headed toward us.

  The screaming…the broken glass…my heart rate accelerated as I watched Alyssa take her last breath. There was no way to perform CPR, not with her neck broken and at such a severe angle. But hoping against the odds, I yelled out for someone, anyone, to help and call 911.

  My mind spun to another scene, one of my youth. “Doniska, grab your sister, NOW, and head to the escape route we showed you.” My mom’s voice rang out. My father had already grabbed his handgun in preparation to defend his family. My mother grabbed what we needed to survive, along with her own weapon, before following us.

  A blast blew through the area we’d just been standing in, blowing my father back away from the door. “Papa!” I cried out as tears streamed down my face.

  The voice on the other side of the door had a strong accent. “We’ve found you, Ivan. You and your family will pay for what you’ve done. We will not rest until you’re all dead. Hide if you must; we’ll wait you out and find you.”

  We’d hidden for so many years. Our names permanently changed. I would no longer be Lucia Annica Evonovich; that life ceased to exist. I would only be known to the world as Erica Ann Jamieson.

  My mind shifted again, back to the recent past. I was visiting both of my friends in the hospital, but, needing air, I’d stepped out into the hallway, when a pair of hands grabbed me from behind, his hand over my mouth as he dragged me toward the elevator. “Don’t make a sound. I’m here to get you out safely. Your dad sent me.” Right as the elevator doors closed, sealing me in with my captor, my mind immediately woke.

  I bolted upright in bed. My mouth was open, but no scream was coming out. I looked around in terror, hoping my heart couldn’t actually beat out of my chest. Why was I here? I took a closer look and saw the clothes the Titan Security people had given me, along with my own phone on the bedside table, when reality washed over me: everything I’d just dreamed about had really happened.

  I placed a hand to my chest, held tightly to the covers, and began counting down from twenty. It was one of the exercises I used with patients to help them gain control over their emotions and to allow their heart rate and breathing to return to normal.

  With my wits returning, I realized I had fallen asleep while Jonas had been discussing his harrowing tales of endangerment, and he must’ve carried me up the stairs and put me to bed. He really wasn’t as bad as he first appeared, more of an all-bark-and-no-bite scenario, very similar to my father’s personality.

  I got up to use the restroom, and then went to look out the faux window. I figured the imagery would be as dark as night, but instead, I was met with crystal-clear views. Did this thing have night vision built into the cameras? I’d have to make a point to ask Jonas in the morning.

  Speaking of Jonas, I crept into the hallway to see if he was in bed. His door was slightly ajar, so I looked inside. I didn’t know what was going on with him, but he was lying in bed and moved first in one direction, then another, mumbling something like, “It’s all my fault. What have I done?”

  I could tell he was in the midst of a dream or a nightmare. I wasn’t sure which, so I leaned against the doorframe and listened in. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t sleep, and, if I wanted to be truthful, I was starting to care for him as a friend, possibly more.

  Several minutes passed before he started to settle. Turning around, I headed back across the hall. I hadn’t even made it into my room when Jonas yelled out, “Everyone take cover; we’re under attack.” After that, his words were inaudible, but the high pitch of his scream was deafening. I’d seen this very scenario in clinical rotation when we were assigned to the sleep labs of military personnel suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

  Any attempt to wake him while in the throes of the dream could cause bodily harm to each of us. I knew I couldn’t touch him, or he might try to punch me. Trying to shake him awake would cause a similar reaction.

  All of the sudden, I remembered what one of the doctors had done. I stayed in the hallway, but kept a line of sight with Jonas as I yelled out. “Soldier, on your feet, front and center.”

  To my surprise, the tactic worked just like it had at the sleep center. Jonas shot out of bed and was on his feet saluting, as if I were a superior officer. His eyes were wide with fear as he looked around the room, until they landed on me. With a scowl crossing over his face, his hand dropped away from his forehead, and he relaxed to some degree. “Not funny, Erica.” He reprimanded.

  “Sorry. You were screaming at the top of your lungs and shouting out orders.” I looked down at the floor, as I was suddenly embarrassed after noticing he only had on boxers and a formfitting shirt that outlined every rippled muscle on his chest, arms, and stomach. Swallowing hard, I continued, “I…I…I didn’t want you hurting yourself or me.”

  As I turned to go back to my room, he grabbed my arm, swinging me around. His face looked puzzled. “What are you doing up? Can’t you sleep? The storm passed a few hours ago.”

  I tried to shake off his grip, but it only tightened. “Ouch. You’re hurting me.”

  He finally let me go but stepped around me to block the door to my room by standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not budging until you answer my question.”

  Throwing both hands up into the air and stomping my foot, I finally answered but only to try and get this big goon to move. “I have nightmares when I close my eyes. I can’t sleep, or at least, I can’t stay asleep. I need to either be doing something or—”

  Jonas moved his finger over my lips to silence me. His face had softe
ned. “I get it. We’re going through some similar issues. Since you have the bigger bed, would it help you fall asleep if you had someone close by?”

  Was this a test? Of course I wanted him in my bed; just look at the man. He was built like a freaking Greek god. If only he had a better attitude, he’d be…what’s the expression again…all that and a bag of chips.

  I shook my head. “I’ll be fine, Jonas. Go on back to bed, and I’ll do the same.” I didn’t need the temptation his closeness and his body offered. I’d just suffer through another restless night, hoping exhaustion would eventually win out, allowing me to sleep.

  He didn’t budge as I tried to get past him. Before I knew what had happened, he bent down, threw me over his shoulder, and popped me on the ass with his hand. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  His laughter caused me to vibrate over his shoulder. “That’s for lying to me. If we’re going to get along, we need to trust one another, and trust doesn’t come without being one hundred percent truthful.”

  Truthful? He was accusing me of being dishonest. I reached down and slapped his backside as hard as I could with both my hands, not an easy task since he was so tall, maybe six feet, whereas I was only five feet four. But I managed to pop him good, causing him to jump and almost drop me on my head.

  I bounced when he tossed me onto the middle of the bed. His hand went around to rub his ass cheek…and what a fine backside it was: firm, tight, and ready for my hands to…what the hell was I thinking?

  “What the fuck did you do that for?” His words came out rather harsh.

  I got up on my knees and poked him in the chest. “I don’t appreciate the double standard you’re setting. You want me to be honest with you, demanding truthfulness in order to achieve trust, but you’re holding back and not being forthcoming either. I can see you’re processing a lot of things in that thick skull of yours. You think you have me fooled, but I see through the smoke screen you’re presenting. You, sir, have issues, very strong ones. My guess would be some kind of PTSD related issues.” I didn’t mean to mouth off or push too far, but it was already out of my mouth before I’d even realized.

  Jonas’s hands went up into his hair, clutching it, while his eyes went wide in horror. “Where the hell do you get off trying to figure out what’s going on in my mind? You’re no doctor, so drop it.” His voice was intensely serious, not quite a yell, but almost.

  “No, I’m not a doctor, but I am a counselor.” I countered. I moved a little further back on the bed in case he felt the urge to go for the full-on yelling fit some of my patients had done in clinical.

  He got on top of the bed on his knees and inched toward me. “And how do you counsel people? Do you tell them what clothes they look good in, how they’re supposed to feel, and how they’re supposed to behave? Is that the job you’re hoping is still there when you get back? One that is cushy telling people what they should and shouldn’t believe?”

  Did Jonas feel threatened by me? Was that why his words felt like an insult? I didn’t care if he was mad anymore, because I was ready to throw down with Jonas if he pushed me any further. I may look small, but I’d taken karate the last six years and advanced quickly to a high degree black belt. If he wanted to dish, I’d be happy to serve his ass to him on a platter.

  I got up in his face, crossed my arms over my chest, and stood my ground. “Apparently, you haven’t done your homework. I’ve done clinical rotations with Drs. Carol and Kent Bradford. I had the opportunity to work with you but declined, because I knew who you were and felt it would be a conflict of interest, and I was right.” He didn’t say anything, only looked at me with a look of open-mouthed shock. I guess he wasn’t expecting that last little tidbit.

  “I’d accepted a position with the new VA hospital on the outskirts of Orlando in the Lake Nona area. Providing the job is still waiting for me, I’ll be working with veterans who’ve been in war-torn areas and are suffering from PTSD. I’m a mental health counselor, you jerk. I help people get through this shit; the same stuff we both seem to be suffering from now.” I got within an inch of his face, “So you back the fuck off!”

  Expecting a backlash of anger, I just stayed put ready to fight him back but, instead, found his lips crashing against mine in a fuel-driven kiss full of intensity that literally took my breath away, made my heart race, and had me gasping for air. He only let up a moment for me to get another intake of air, before lowering me to the bed, his body covering mine.

  I’d meant to fight him off, but found my lips responding to his. His lower body pressed against mine as his elbows, supporting the bulk of his weight, rested on the bed.

  This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this. This is a mission to keep you safe, nothing more. Cut it out, girl! He’s eye candy to look at, not touch. My mind was screaming at me to stop, giving me all the right reasons to break away from the kiss, but I needed out of my head for a while to forget everything I’d seen recently and everything I’d lived up to that point. This was not what I had expected. How could I be feeling a connection to someone I thought hated me, someone I didn’t realize, until tonight, I shared so much in common with. Why did my body feel so alive from our kiss? It wasn’t until our hands began to slip under our shirts that we each came to our senses and pulled away.

  Jonas rolled over to the other side of the bed. His breathing was loud and labored, much like my own. We let silence surround us for several minutes, before he finally spoke. “I’m sorry. I should not have done that. I’ll leave.”

  Instinctively, my hand reached out and grabbed ahold of his shoulder. “Don’t go,” I begged. I knew this was all wrong, but I didn’t care. I was tired, and I needed sleep.

  He turned his head to look at me, the darkness of his eyes gave proof to the lust-driven state he was in, probably mirroring my own. I swallowed hard and admitted, “You’re right; we shouldn’t do this, but I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in days. I’d like it if you’d stay here, but keep to your side of the bed while I keep to mine. Maybe we will be a security blanket for each other, which will allow us to sleep.”

  Taking in a deep breath, Jonas nodded and lay down without saying anything. I reached over to the light and turned it off, allowing the glow of the nightlight in the bathroom to fill our space, before I rolled onto my side to face away from him.

  The only sounds making their way through the house were the distant waves crashing along the beach and, of course, our breathing. I noted his had leveled out, as had mine. I’d almost been pulled under by the call of sleep, when I felt his hand lightly pat me on my back. His words were but a whisper, “Thank you,” before finally succumbing to slumber.

  I awoke in strange surroundings and hearing a soft snore to the side of me. I looked over to see Erica on her side with her hands wrapped around the pillow underneath her head. How did I end up…? Then it all came racing back: the nightmare of my unit and the village being attacked, the argument Erica and I had, and our kissing. You fucked up, soldier!

  I wasn’t supposed to care for Erica. Hell, I’d made a point to keep her pissed at me since meeting her at my sister’s wedding. I didn’t want or need anyone, not until I got my mind and my life back under control. I knew the Marines called me a hero for taking out so many of the rebel forces, but I considered myself a failure. So many of my peers died along with the villagers, and so many of my team was captured and tortured. What I couldn’t understand was how I managed to escape and survive. Nothing seemed to help calm my system or my mind, nothing until Erica. I was still in awe wondering how I’d managed to sleep for six hours straight, when the past two years I’d only managed one to two hours at a time. Derrick had mentioned how he’d never felt calm and comfortable in his own skin until his wife, Jesse, had come into his life. Could Erica be that same sense of calm for me?

  I didn’t want to think about it, not now at least. Maybe we could push away from one another, nip it in the bud before any feelings got involved. I moved slowly so I wouldn’t
cause the bed to shift much. I knew we were both exhausted from the previous day, so I decided against checking out the rest of the island until tomorrow and stick closer to the house instead.

  After changing into a different pair of fatigues and forgoing my shirt, I headed downstairs with the three-ring binder about the house in hand to see if there were any added security measures around here, since there seemed to be so many existing around the exterior of the island.

  Erica’s concern yesterday about power failures kept running through my mind. I knew the island had backup gasoline generators if needed, but there was only a two-day supply of fuel on the island. The waterwheel provided a constant energy source, but would it be enough, especially if we had a stronger storm? Not that we would, usually tropical storms and hurricanes only happened in this part of the world during the latter part of summer, or did they?

  I let the thoughts run through my mind as I began gathering breakfast stuff. There was plenty of fresh fruit in the refrigerator, and I was happy to see a multitude of fruit trees on the island so we could replenish our supply without having to go to the mainland, which was a larger island ten miles to the west of us. I didn’t relish having to go out in public and pretend to be a married couple on their honeymoon, not unless we absolutely had to. The idea was to stay hidden and wait things out while members of Titan tried to figure out if things extended beyond Victor Yoknovich or if he was acting alone. We knew he had money or a source to it, since he’d used hired guns and greased the palms of a few of the government’s finest men to look the other way. He had the connections, so it made sense. But what was he ultimately up to?