Conflict Of Hearts: Witmer 4: Small Western Town Military Alpha Romance

by Jean Stokes

  Dwane must see something in her. But seeing that might just be the thing that breaks me.

  I'm distracted as I drive home, three weeks after that fateful night. It's so dark and there's no moon. I frown when I notice the porch light doesn't come on when I walk up to my house.

  I curse to myself and search blindly for my keys, when I hear sudden footsteps rushing up to me. I turn, my eyes widening as I catch sight of none other than Ethan Burchell.

  He collides with me, sending me crashing against my door. I groan, shaking my head as my vision goes gray at the edges for a moment, and then freeze when I feel the muzzle of a gun press against my back.

  "Don't scream," Ethan hisses. "Open the door. Real slow. No funny business."

  Swallowing, I obey, letting us both inside. He steps away from me, keeping the gun trained. I remember my hand-to-hand combat training, but the gun looks like it would pack a punch, and I'm not confident I'd be able to get the upper hand before he put an extra hole in me.

  His upper lip curls back. "You Foster's woman?"

  I frown. "No," I reply, shaking my head.

  Ethan's eyes narrow. He has bruising under his eyes, his nose a little crooked like it had been broken. I think back to the fight between the Burchell brothers and the guys, and wonder if Dwane did that to him. He probably did.

  "You were, though," Ethan says. He grins maliciously. "He dump you?"

  I narrow my eyes, and say nothing.

  "Doesn't matter," he says with a shrug. He jerks his head towards my couch, and I follow the unspoken instruction, wincing when he jabs me in the back with his gun, and circles me when I sit. He perches on my coffee table, keeping his gun trained on me. "He'll come for you eventually when you don't show up to work tomorrow. And then he and I will have a little talk. No one needs to get hurt."

  "You're pointing a gun at an employee of a military base," I say as calmly as I can. "You'll get a lot worse than Dwane Foster showing up if someone realizes I'm missing."

  Ethan sneers at me, and spits on the ground. I grimace in distaste. "Shut up and stay still," he growls. "I don't want to hurt you—you're cute in that over-muscled kind of way. But I don't need you in one piece if you make this difficult."

  I raise my hands slightly, signifying my surrender, and lean back on the couch, cursing myself for leaving my weapon in my car. Not that it would matter much—I wouldn't have had time to draw and fire during Ethan's blitz attack.

  He smiles widely at me, and I find myself hoping Dwane, or maybe Aaron, come looking soon.

  Chapter 20 - DWANE

  I feel like I'm going crazy. And it's so much worse, now that I know what it's like to kiss Sadie, to hold her in my arms, knowing how I can make her shake with pleasure and gasp and moan into my ear.

  I need her so badly it feels like a craving. I do my stretches and exercises but it's not the same without her gentle, encouraging voice in my ear, her bright eyes, her pleased laugh when I impress her.

  It's worse when it seems like all my friends have finally gotten over themselves and found love. Of all of them, I had the cleanest slate and somehow, I still managed to mess it up with a woman I love so much I ache whenever I think about her.

  "I can't take it anymore," I confess to Aaron one night on his porch, both of us watching the stars and nursing beers. Talia is in her own house next door. Aaron told me she paints and that she likes to paint the night sky.

  He hums, and takes another drink.

  "I need to see her, man," I sigh.

  "Then go see her," he replies, like it's that simple.

  I shake my head. "You didn't see how she looked at me when she found out about Rita," I murmur. The look on her face haunts my dreams. It’s worse than anything I could have seen overseas. "She was so angry, and so betrayed. I feel like I betrayed her, even though I didn't do anything!"

  "You failed to mention that you had left a woman behind in New Orleans who apparently didn't get the memo that you were broken up," Aaron says mildly. I glare at him, to find him rubbing at his beer label with his thumb nail. He meets my eyes, and shrugs. "Might have been something to mention before you fell into bed together."

  "I didn't think it mattered," I hiss. "I thought Rita and I were over. I thought she understood that. I wasn't expecting her to just show up at my mother's house expecting that we would get back together."

  Aaron hums. "Well," he says with another shrug. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that your past has a habit of sneaking up on you and biting you when you least expect it. I know, hindsight and all that, but it's still something you could have mentioned."

  I rub both hands over my face and muffle a groan into my palms. "Have I ruined this forever?"

  "Not really a question I can answer for you, man," Aaron replies. He's so much calmer than he used to be. It's so annoying. I glare at him again. "Have you considered—and I know this is a scandalous idea—actually going and talking to her yourself?"

  "She's avoiding me," I mutter sullenly.

  "You sure about that?"

  I narrow my eyes at him. "What do you know?" I demand.

  He shrugs again. "I talked to her the morning she kicked you out. She was a wreck, but I know Sadie. She's smart and she's really good at knowing herself." He huffs a laugh, smiling. "I've always liked that about her. I'm just saying, it's been three weeks, so she's going to be feeling a certain kind of way. If you keep avoiding or refusing to see her, you're going to force her to make a decision."

  I can only stare, understanding slowly dawning. "I'll lose her if I do nothing," I say. "But if I act, I might have a chance."

  Aaron smiles at me. "Just go for it," he urges, reaching over to nudge my shoulder. "You've got some liquid courage, it's a beautiful night, and it's been three weeks, man. Shit or get off the pot."

  I wince, but nod and push myself to my feet. "Wish me luck," I say, finishing my beer and setting it down.

  Aaron grins, and gives me a lazy salute. For some reason, the action reminds me of Sadie. I suck in a breath, square my shoulders, and leave his porch. I'm too drunk to drive, but the walk isn't far, and my leg really is feeling better thanks to Sadie's instructions.

  *

  Whatever courage I'd managed to get by psyching myself up on my walk over disappears like cockroaches in light when I turn the corner and see Sadie's car. Oh God, this is it. I'll either be the happiest man alive or leave with a broken heart.

  But, inaction is not an option.

  I approach, and my eyes narrow as I notice that the porch light doesn't come on. I hesitate, approaching slowly, every instinct in me telling me to proceed with caution. I feel like I'm prowling through thick jungle with potential enemies hiding in the trees. I need to make sure I don't fall into some kind of trap or get sniped.

  I try to tell myself that it's ridiculous to think this way. Sadie's house isn't a warzone, and maybe this is just nerves. But my gut instinct is strong, and hard to ignore.

  The light is on in her front room, the curtains pull back so I can see inside. I come closer, glad that my dark skin will make it harder to spot me from inside. I don't need someone seeing me snooping around and calling the cops.

  I go to the edge of the window and peer in. My eyes widen when I see Sadie, sitting on her couch, her face very pale, her fingers kneading anxiously at her thighs. And, sitting on the coffee table across from her is none other than Ethan Burchell.

  Holding a gun.

  I don't think about it. Now is not the time to hesitate. I rush for Sadie's front door, ignoring the protesting twinge in my leg, and shove my way inside so hard that the door bangs against the wall.

  "Ethan!" I snarl, coming into the living room. Sadie tenses, looking over her shoulder at me, and Ethan stands with a wide, cruel smile stretching his thin lips.

  "Nice of you to finally join us," he purrs. "I was starting to get bored. Thought about how Sadie and I might entertain ourselves."

  I glare at him, vibrating with rage.

 
"You're an animal," I spit. "You get your rocks off threatening some innocent woman with a Goddamn gun because you and I have a problem?"

  "We didn't need to have a problem," Ethan snaps. He moves away from Sadie, who scrambles to the other side of the couch. It soothes me a little to know she won't be in harm's way if this gets ugly. Ethan points the gun at me. "You should have just packed up and took your sorry ass back to New Orleans, but no, you have to swagger in here like you owned the place. My brothers and I run this town and we don't want you here! You leave now, or I swear to God I'll shoot your woman right in front of you before I put you down."

  He pulls the hammer back, and my eyes widen. I lift my hands. "Alright, alright, calm down," I urge. Sadie might not be in direct line of sight but I don't want Ethan to get it into his head to start shooting. She's a witness, which means she's a liability, a loose end I have no doubt he'll want to tie once he's through with me. "You want me to leave? I'll leave. I'll pack up and head out."

  Ethan's lip twitches. His hand is unsteady, unused to the weight of the heavy gun for so long. I take a step forward, wincing at the twinge in my leg. This isn't going to go well if I'm not careful.

  "Just let her go, Ethan," I say, nodding towards Sadie. His eyes flash in her direction, his scowl deepening. "She's got no part in this. Let her leave, and I'll go, and no one has to say a word about what happened here, okay?"

  Ethan swallows, and lowers his gun. "That's more like it," he snaps. "Could have been this simple from the start, Forest—"

  "Dwane!"

  I look, my eyes widening when I see Sadie pull an empty whiskey bottle from the other side of the couch, and hurl it with all her might at Ethan's head. It hits hard against his temple and he cries out in surprise, clutching his head. I don't hesitate.

  I lunge, and hear the gun shot go off before I collide with him. My arm burns, but I can still move it, so that's all I allow myself to register as I wrestle Ethan to the ground. I grip his wrist and twist it until he lets go of the gun with a cry, and knock it away.

  "Dwane!" Sadie screams.

  "Call the police!" I yell, grunting as Ethan snarls at me, eyes wild and dark, and punches me hard in the cheek. He's got a good swing, and I feel the inside of my mouth slice open and fill with blood.

  Sadie jumps up and runs from the room to get her phone as Ethan and I go rolling. He's big, and he doesn't have a bad leg and hip. He struggles against me, and starts landing solid punches to my bad leg, making pain shoot up and down my spine. It feels like I can't see with how much pain I'm in, but I refuse to let go of him and let him get away. If he gets away, he can hurt Sadie, and I can't let that happen.

  "Let go of me, you damn—" I punch him in the jaw, snapping his head to one side with a groan. He answers it with another solid hit to my thigh, making me collapse with a pained snarl. He scrambles up and throws himself over me, getting an arm around my neck.

  I gasp, trying to catch my breath, dizzy. I reach blindly forward as my vision starts to narrow while Ethan's arm tightens. I'll pass out in seconds if he keeps the chokehold cutting off blood flow to my head.

  My fingers wrap around the handle of the whiskey bottle, and with a grunt I swing backwards with it, breaking it against Ethan's skull. His grip loosens as he groans, slumping as dead weight over me. I shove him off and get him pinned on his stomach, his hands behind his back in my strong grip. He's too out of it to kick just yet, and I put bruising pressure on the insides of his wrists, yanking his hands up so that he can't struggle without risking dislocating his shoulders.

  He groans against the glass covered floor, blinking blearily and panting. I look up when I hear Sadie come back downstairs, her phone in hand. "Sheriff's on his way," she says breathlessly. "Apparently, Ethan broke out of prison last night."

  I nod, pressing my lips together. "And chose to try and even the score between us," I growl, looking down at Ethan's face. There's already a satisfying bruise blooming from Sadie's throw, joining the rest of the discoloration below his eyes.

  I look back up at her, and grin. "You've got one Hell of an aim."

  "High school softball MVP three years running," she replies with a small, manic grin. She laughs shakily, and steps forward, sitting on the arm rest of the couch. After a moment, she looks to one side, and gets up to retrieve Ethan's gun. She holds it using the sleeve of her coat so that she doesn't get her fingerprints on it.

  I can only stare at her, so proud of how she handled herself and impressed by her quick thinking that saved both of our lives.

  She looks down at me, and bites her lower lip. "You're bleeding."

  "We can take care of it when this guy's back in cuffs," I say.

  She bites her lower lip, and looks out the window as the black sky starts flashing with blue and red lights. She stands and goes to the door, opening it and welcoming in the sheriff and two other officers who immediately run to Ethan. I get off him and slump against the wall, panting as they cuff him and recite his rights, before they haul him off.

  The sheriff lingers, clucking his tongue. He nods at me. "You need a medic?" he asks.

  I look down at my arm. It looks and feels like a graze, given that I still have full range of motion and fingers, and isn't bleeding all that badly. Probably won't even need stitches. I shake my head.

  "I'll need you both to come to the station and give your statement," he says, looking between me and Sadie. "But it's late, and I'm sure you've had a rough night. Come in the morning."

  "Of course," Sadie murmurs. She sees the officers out, and then disappears from sight. I hear water running, and look up at her as she returns with a bowl of warm water, and some paper towels.

  "Damn stupid thing to do," she mutters, shaking her head as she pushes my sleeve up to reveal the bullet wound. "Could have gotten yourself killed, and I don't even want to think about all the progress you just undid with your leg."

  I can't help smiling as she wipes and cleans my wound. She's brisk, but gentle. "I kind of feel like it'll fall off," I admit. The pain has crested into a tingling numbness, I assume from pinched nerves and torn muscles. But it was worth it, if she's safe.

  She huffs, and rolls her eyes.

  "Sadie," I murmur, cupping her hand when she presses a drier towel to my arm. She pauses, and meets my eyes. "Listen. About Rita—"

  She winces. "We don't need to talk about that."

  "Yes, we do," I say. She swallows. "I realize I should have been more up front from the beginning. At the very least, say that I had recently gotten out of a long-term relationship. I did end things with her, but I guess I wasn't as clear as I should have been."

  She stares at me silently. She doesn't pull her hand away, so I consider that a win. "I went to my mom's house," I say, and I don't miss how she winces and swallows harshly. "Rita was there. I told her I wasn't in love with her. I told her I was going to stay here, and I didn't want to see her again. I told her that there was someone else."

  "Right," Sadie murmurs. "That's kind of the problem."

  She fights her hand free and returns to dabbing at my wound. I wince, and not just because of the stinging pain.

  "Sadie, I told her that I was in love with someone else."

  That makes her pause. Her eyes widen, and she meets mine. "Are you?" she asks, guarded and careful.

  "Yes," I reply immediately. I never want her to doubt that again. I cup her face with my good hand, and she shivers, lashes lowering over her dark, gorgeous eyes. "I haven't spent a single minute not thinking about you since that fight. And before then. You're part of my life now. A permanent part, if you're up to it. If you can forgive me for being stupid and charging headlong into something without giving you all the details."

  She laughs shakily. "I guess we both kind of did that," she admits. "You're not the only one who leaps before they look, I suppose." She smiles, and it's a slight, small thing, but it lights up the entire room. "Guess that means we're perfect for each other."

  "Sadie," I whisper, confidence
returning the longer we go without her telling me to go to Hell. I cup her face and smile when she tilts her head into the touch, sighing gently. "I'm sorry for hurting you, and I promise it'll never happen again. I'm an idiot, and I love you."

  She smiles. "I love you, too," she replies, a confession as quiet and solemn as one in church. It makes the pain feel like nothing at all. She shivers again, swallowing. "God, Dwane, I was so scared."

  "I know," I reply. "I'm sorry he did that to you."

  "No, I mean—not that." She shakes her head. "I know he was dangerous, that I was in danger, but I also knew I wasn't his primary target. I was going to be collateral, maybe, but I wasn't afraid for myself." She meets my eyes. "I was terrified that he was just going to shoot you. That I would lose you forever."

  "I felt the same when I saw you in here," I say. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

  She smiles, and cups my face, leaning in to kiss me gently. "You can let a little bit of something happen to me," she teases. "As long as you're the one doing it. I think I'm owed an encore of the last night we spent together."

  I laugh, and wrap my good hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for another deep, passionate kiss. She moans, dropping the towels next to the bowl of water. The thrill of having her in my arms again makes me feel invincible.

  She pulls back, breathing hard, her eyes dark. She kisses again, more chaste. "You need to rest up, soldier. And we'll see how bad you messed yourself in the morning. If it's not too bad, we'll get that encore. Deal?"

  I grin at her. "Hell of an incentive for me to keep myself safe, isn't it?"

  She arches a brow in that way I so adore. "Is that a 'Yes'?"

  "Yes, ma'am," I say, and she smiles into our next kiss.

  *

  That night, we both sleep for a long time, dreamless and peaceful. I fill my lungs with her scent of vanilla and wildflowers. Holding Sadie in my arms, protecting her even as she rests a hand on my bad hip, instinctively trying to soothe it, is better than any heaven I could possibly imagine.