Cold Blood (Lone Star Mobsters Book 4)

by Cynthia Rayne

  “It wouldn’t have gotten any better.”

  “Yep, I found out the hard way.” She glanced away.

  Justice didn’t know what she had gone through exactly, but he recognized the concealment on her face, pain which was too intense to bear, so she buried it. In many ways, they were kindred souls. People who had survived the worst of circumstances.

  “I’m sorry.” Nothing else he could say would make it any better.

  “Thank you.” She swallowed. “I chose to stay with him, and after I got out, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the reason why I hadn’t left earlier.”

  “But now you know?”

  “Eventually, I figured out what happened to me.” Etta bit her lip. “Have you ever heard about a frog and boilin’ water?”

  Justice shook his head.

  “This is gross, but if you toss a frog into a bubbling pot, it’ll jump out. If you put it in cool water and slowly turn the temperature up, it’ll cook to death. The abuse evolved over time, gettin’ steadily worse. And I didn’t realize until it was too late, that he was slowly killin’ me.” Tears glimmered in her eyes, and she wiped them away.

  “Believe me, I understand.”

  “He took things from me. Things I’ll never get back.”

  Justice knew what she meant. He’d been one man before he’d been held as a POW, and another after he’d been rescued from the compound. No matter what he did, Justice would never be the same again. It had taken him a long time to accept it.

  “I don’t see people the way I used to. I believed in kindness, but the world’s an ugly place. He took my self-esteem, my sense of safety, my faith in myself. By the time Grady got through with me, I was nothin’ more than an echo of my former self.”

  Justice took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles.

  Etta cleared her throat. “And I don’t know what I’m gonna do now.”

  “You don’t have to worry because I’m gonna watch out for you.”

  “I can’t ask you to guard me.”

  “Well, I’m volunteerin’. I don’t want anythin’ to happen to you. Besides, I’m a professional bodyguard these days.” It’s all he seemed to do lately—keeping the ladies safe. “By the way, before I forget to mention, I’m also stayin’ the night.”

  “Sure you wanna sleepover?” She wrinkled up her nose. “The couch is terrible.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The last time he’d stayed over, his lower back had ached like a bitch the next day, but he didn’t give a shit. “Although, you could offer me a better place to sleep.”

  “Don’t push your luck.” But she smiled, just like he’d hoped she would.

  Justice was relieved to see a glimpse of her old self. She didn’t know it yet, but he’d eventually convince her to let him handle the Grady situation. And then Justice intended on teaching Grady the meaning of pain, something he was intimately familiar with.

  ***

  That evening, Justice’s dreams took him back to the desert.

  “Tell us what we want to know.”

  “No, and you can go fuck yourselves for all I care.” At this point, Justice was driven by pure hate, rather than his survival instincts.

  Justice rolled his shoulders and cracked his back. They’d just hauled him out of a steel box he’d been locked in for who knows how long. He could barely move in the damn thing, and he’d been forced to lay down the entire time.

  It felt like a coffin.

  “If you start talkin’, there’s a full meal and a hot shower in it for you.”

  It was a simple thing, but after days, or weeks of being covered in his own filth, with a grumbling belly, it sounded like bliss. Justice hated this particular Taliban the most. While the rest of them had settled into the role of bad cop, this bastard tried to make nice with him, and he made Justice sick to his stomach.

  The Taliban’s name was supposedly Mohammed, and he stood a bit under six feet tall with blue eyes, and a scraggly blond beard. He was the one who did all the interrogations since he spoke English.

  To make matters worse, he was from the States. How could any self-respecting American be working for these assholes? With their feudal laws, a penchant for harboring terrorists, and actually stoning women to death like it was biblical times all over again.

  “Pass.”

  Justice had all sorts of valuable information, but he’d never give it up, not for anything. And when they were rescued, he’d reward himself with a long hot shower, a ribeye steak, a fluffy bed, and then he’d fuck a pretty girl…in that order.

  When he wasn’t in the box, he’d been bunking with Bulldog, a guy right out of BUDS training. And by bunking, Justice meant the two of them had been sleeping on a concrete floor in a cell with only enough space for one man.

  Bulldog had been assigned to their unit when one of the other guys had retired to pursue a private security job. The soldier was still wet behind the ears, but he hadn’t talked either.

  At the moment, he had no fucking idea where they’d dragged him off to or what they were doing to him. Since he had a higher rank, Justice felt responsible for Bulldog.

  “Come on. We both know the military isn’t looking for you.”

  “Do we? Because if I were you, I’d be searchin’ for a deep, dark hole to slip into, and I got news for you, it still won’t save you. We’ll find your traitorous ass and haul you in anyhow.”

  Because ‘Mohammed’ was a citizen, he had rights, rights Justice sorely wanted to violate.

  “We shall see.”

  “Yeah, we shall, dickhead. What’s your real name anyway? It can’t be ‘Mohammed’ because you are the whitest white boy I’ve ever seen.”

  His face darkened. “It’s Mohammed.”

  “Nah, you seem like a Jeff to me. That’s what I’m gonna call you from now on. Jeff.”

  “You’ve been gone for a month, and no one has come running.” The man got in his face, smirking and overconfident. And Justice knew he was getting to good old Jeff. He liked getting underneath his skin, for a change. “Perhaps they’ve forgotten about you.”

  A month. It felt longer, then again, perversely, it seemed like a shorter amount of time. Time made no sense here.

  And who’s to say Jeff wasn’t screwing with him, anyway? He got his jollies torturing people, for fuck’s sake.

  “On second thought, I’ll tell you somethin’, after all.”

  “Yes..?” He gave a triumphant smile. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll see to it that you spend tonight in comfort.”

  “When they do come for me, and they will, I’m gonna ask to borrow one of their guns.”

  “Will you?” He was sneering, like this was all some sort of joke. Justice had never been so earnest in his life.

  “Yeah, I’m thinkin’ maybe a handgun, somethin’ more personal.” Justice pictured it in his palm, the cold weight of the steel.

  That’s when Jeff stabbed a knife into his thigh and Justice wheezed in pain.

  Justice refused to scream. “Yeah, and then I’m gonna shoot you, right between the eyes. Because, as far as I’m concerned, you gave up your citizenship when you agreed to help these asshats. No jury in the land would convict me. Hell, I bet they’d throw me a parade.”

  And if he had a camera, he might film it and put it up on YouTube, for the sake of posterity. It would get a million hits.

  “Your plan all depends on one thing.” He slowly twisted the knife.

  Justice gritted his teeth, and Jeff watched every expression on his face, as though drinking in his distress.

  “And what’s that, Jeff?”

  “If you’re still alive tomorrow morning.”

  ***

  A harsh cry woke Etta up.

  She sat up in bed, disoriented for a moment, and then she remembered Justice was in the next room, and clearly, he was in the throes of a nightmare. Again.

  Etta hustled into the living room, to find him in his drawers once more. He’d flung the sheet off as he’d twisted
and turned on the couch. His eyes were squeezed shut, a pained expression on his face.

  “Justice?” She knelt by the couch, placing a hand on his chest.

  He woke with a gasp, blinking for a second before his eyes lit on her. His gaze was wild-eyed and bewildered. Then he focused on her once more

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to sleepless nights.”

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  “Sounds like some of the things you buried are tryin’ to work their way to the surface.”

  “Yeah, they aren’t lettin’ up.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize, Angel, you ain’t the cause of them.”

  “No, but I know what you’re goin’ through. I’ve had my own nightmares, you know.”

  “Really?” He moved over so she could sit beside him.

  Etta tried not to think about what little clothing they both wore. She should be ashamed of herself. Sex was probably the very last thing on his mind.

  And it should be the last thing on yours, too.

  “Yep, but we should talk about yours.”

  He glanced away.

  “Come on. I told you some of my story. It’s only fair that you return the favor.” Etta wanted to know more about him. “Don’t hold back with me.”

  “It’s a real ugly tale.”

  “Yeah, well, mine ain’t exactly all fun and games either. We’re both screwed up.”

  He snorted. “That we are.”

  “So, I’m gonna use one of your tactics. Let’s start somewhere easy. Tell me about the men in your unit.”

  Justice paused a moment. His eyes fell closed, and for a second she thought he might ignore the question, but he nodded, as though making some silent decision.

  “They were good men, and we were close.” He scratched his cheek. “We ate together, bunked together, and watched each other’s backs. We practically lived in each other’s pockets for months at a time.” His voice was hoarse. “I miss them.”

  “What happened to all of you?” She’d imagined all sorts of situations, each worse than the one before.

  “It started as a typical mission. I can’t tell you what we were doin’ because it’s still classified, but I can give you the gist of it.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “We left the base at Jalalabad, and a roadside bomb outside of a tiny village went off. It overturned one of the Humvees, and then we were surrounded by the Taliban. And they started shooting at us.”

  “It was a trap.”

  “Yeah, and the Taliban were smart. They drew our fire and outlasted us. Before we knew it, we were out of ammo, and out of time.”

  “What about drones or the air force?”

  “There was no air support to speak of. At the time, we were bombardin’ another village. They knew it, too. We walked into an ambush.”

  “And they captured you?”

  His head lowered. “Yeah, and then they tortured us.”

  She winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks, I know you understand.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Etta wrapped an arm around him, and he leaned against her. “How long were you there?”

  “Not long in the scheme of things. After we were rescued, I found out we’d only been there for three months, just three, but it felt like a fuckin’ lifetime.”

  “I was married for four years, but it seemed like forty.”

  Justice placed a hand on his thigh and then she noticed his leg was damaged, a puckered pink scar ran the length of it.

  “They marked you for life?”

  “Yeah, they wanted information, but I wouldn’t give it to ‘em. When I refused, they tried beating, and then cutting it out of me.” Justice rubbed his leg. “They didn’t have a medic, and I got gangrene. My buddy, Bulldog, sliced it open for me, so the puss could drain.”

  Her stomach clenched. “I’m guessin’ you didn’t have anesthesia.”

  “Nope. Not so much as a drop of whiskey either. I bit down on my shirt to stifle the scream while Bulldog saved my life and my leg.” He touched the wound as though Justice could still feel the ache.

  Etta hadn’t felt this distressed, this vulnerable, in years. At this moment, she didn’t want to be alone, and she doubted Justice did either. They could comfort one another.

  “Tell you what, why don’t you come to my bedroom?”

  His eyes lit up.

  “Woah. No, not like that. You’re cramped on this couch, and we’ve both been through hell. We’ll just sleep together, I mean,” she said, pausing to grit her teeth, “Lie beside each other and rest. There’ll be absolutely no sex.”

  Yet she was thinking about it. A lot.

  “Damn, for a second there, I thought I had you.”

  Etta bit her lower lip. Her mind raced with all of the possibilities, too.

  “Takin’ me up on the offer? Or do you wanna sit there and make jokes instead?”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice, and I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” He raised a hand, as though taking an oath.

  “Excellent. Follow me.”

  Etta led him into the bedroom, and Justice took the right side of the bed. She always slept on the left, so it worked out. They both climbed under the covers. His big body filled up the space, saturated it, and her bed felt smaller, somehow, but cozier.

  She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come. All she could think about was Justice lying next to her. When she rolled over to get more comfortable, she found him staring at her in the darkness.

  Justice still looked tense

  “Sure you don’t wanna try one of those relaxation techniques I mentioned last time?”

  “Positive, but thanks.”

  Maybe if I made it seem like he was doing me a favor?

  “Okay, but it’s a purely selfish offer on my part. I don’t want you to wake me up again.”

  He cupped her cheek. “There’ll be no more bad dreams tonight if I’m lyin’ next to you.”

  She shut her eyes, at a loss for words.

  “You aren’t fallin’ asleep on me, are you?” His tone was teasing.

  “No, I’m awake.”

  “Then let me tell you another thin’. You don’t gotta worry. I’m keepin’ my hands to myself, even if you beg me to give you an orgasm.”

  The nerve. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I didn’t mistake how hard your nipples were, or how wet and hot your pussy got for me when I touched you the other day.”

  Etta felt her cheeks burn. They hadn’t talked about what he’d said yesterday, about pursuing her.

  “Whose gonna beg?”

  “Well, maybe we’ll both do some beggin’.” His voice dipped lower.

  “Damn straight.” Etta giggled.

  “I warned you that I’d pursue you.”

  “I know.” Truthfully, she didn’t know what to say. “I’ve got a lot on my plate with Grady…”

  “Yes, and you’re probably a little gun shy, but I’m willin’ to bide my time. Although, you should know somethin’.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I might be actin’ the part of the perfect gentleman, but my thoughts won’t be.”

  Her mouth went dry. “They won’t?”

  “I’ll be thinkin’ about spreadin’ you wide open and licking you until you scream for me. I got pretty damn close last time. I almost had you on my tongue, Angel.”

  For a moment, she was flabbergasted and unable to think of anything else but Justice’s mouth on her, tasting her. Etta squirmed, as a rush of wetness gushed between her thighs.

  “Oh, um, well, good to know.” Etta shivered. “Uh, we should sleep.”

  “Nighty night.” His tone was positively smug.

  Arrogant, irritating, sexy biker.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning, Justice had the opportunity to just observe Etta without her being aware. She slept on her side, curled
into a ball. Her hair resembled a tangle of red ribbons on the pillow.

  Justice wanted to kiss her awake, sleeping-beauty-style, and then tangle his hands in her tresses, holding her still while exploring her mouth once more. Etta wore an old threadbare T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. The covers were rucked up, revealing her long shapely legs. He remembered how silky her thighs had been.

  Last night, it had been too murky in the darkness to get a real picture of what she was wearing. This morning, he could see the outline of her full breasts against the faded fabric. Her nipples were turgid, pushing at the straining material, as though about to break through.

  Justice fancied himself a breast man, and hers were exceptional. He wanted to kneel on the floor and capture a nipple between his teeth, suck it until the little nub stood out in hard relief.

  But he did none of those things. He’d promised her he’d be a gentleman and he’d keep his vow, even if it devastated him.

  Instead, he contented himself with kissing her forehead. Justice had never met anyone like her, and most likely never would. Etta was kind, beautiful, and sexy. What’s more, she understood what he’d been through, because someone had put her through hell, too. His feelings for her ran deep. Justice wouldn’t call it love, not yet, but it was damn near close.

  And he knew Etta felt the same way about him, even though she resisted. They were drawn to one another because they’d both been smashed into little bitty pieces. Yet their jagged edges meshed.

  They were both wounded, devastated by the terrible things they’d survived. Other than Trick and Woolly, he’d never met someone else who understood what it was like to live in a constant state of terror. Only she’d survived someone who should’ve loved her, protected her from the world.

  He left her a note on the nightstand, saying he was going to work, and he’d be back later on tonight. Come nightfall, he’d be back in her bed again. He made up his mind then and there, he wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch anymore. From here on out, they’d be bedding down together, even if they hadn’t made love yet.

  Justice walked into the living room and pushed the curtains aside to get a better look. It was broad daylight, and she had a passel of nosy neighbors surrounding the house. Etta should be relatively secure. Justice had to drop by his trailer and pick up a change of clothes, and a quick cup of coffee, if there was time.