Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8

by Jade C. Jamison

  While he showered, she combed her hair out and got dressed, putting on a white tank and jeans. She wanted to change the sheets, get rid of the scent of what they’d done. No way could she stand sleeping in that bed tonight, smelling him.

  For now, though, so he wouldn’t question what she was doing, she just made the bed. God, she couldn’t do it without remembering every single moment about the night before…recalling how he held her, what he’d said, how he felt. She didn’t know how to get him out of her head and didn’t think she’d be able to until he left.

  She hadn’t planned on making coffee, because then she’d feel obliged to ask him if he wanted a cup before he left, and she just needed to push him out the door. She felt like spiders were crawling under her skin, and she wouldn’t feel better until he was gone.

  But he wasn’t making it easy.

  As she started walking toward the kitchen, she heard him shut off the shower, and that made her decide for certain not to make the coffee. It would be just a few more minutes now, if she could hold off. She heard the bathroom door open. “Jenna?”

  Oh, no. What did he want now? “Yeah?”

  He walked toward her voice. When she saw him come around the corner, she thought she would die. Not only was he bathed in a halo of light streaming in the kitchen from the living room, but he was probably the most gorgeous she’d ever seen him. His stubble was a little heavier than it had been the night before, adding to the bad boy rugged look. His hair was damp too, and it made him look even hotter. In the light, though, she was able to fully appreciate all his tattoos. They were colorful and made his body look like a canvas. His eyes—usually a deep green—reminded her this morning of the ocean, and she was afraid of drowning in them. Worst, he was still wearing just his underwear. Not good.

  “Let’s go grab something to eat. My treat.”

  No…definitely not good. Breakfast felt like relationship. Her feet were getting colder and colder as the minutes ticked by. It was time to just lay it on the line, as gently as possible, and if she could keep him from realizing just how much he affected her, she could probably do it. She took a step closer to him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ethan.”

  His eyes searched hers, and he stepped closer too. “I’d ask if you’re hungry, but that’s not it, is it?”

  She felt winded then. He knew exactly where she was going with it. Damn, how’d he get so good at reading her in such a short time? “Look, Ethan…I had a great time last night. I really did. But…”

  He placed his index finger on her lips to quiet her. “You’re going to give me some kind of song and dance about how we shouldn’t get involved, and you’re going to try to give me the whole counselor-patient bullshit again…which, I’ll remind you, we already resolved. Then you’re going to tell me that, even aside from that, it’s not healthy for me in my fragile state…or something like that.” Jenna had no response for him, because he’d practically pulled every single syllable out of her mouth. “Right?” She just nodded, and he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Well, those reasons aren’t good enough for me to stay away, and if those are the only lame reasons you can come up with, they’re unacceptable.”

  Her breathing was shallow as she considered him. Okay, okay…so those reasons were lame and really only masked the real reasons why she didn’t want to get involved with him. But she couldn’t find the words until Ethan said, his voice quiet, “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really afraid?”

  She found her voice and shook her head. “I can’t.” She wasn’t going to say a word, but she was starting to see him through new eyes. He felt supportive and sweet, and she never would have guessed that before their kiss a few weeks ago.

  “You can. Didn’t I tell you we can do this together? I promised, didn’t I?” She nodded again. “Then why don’t you tell me about it over breakfast.”

  She couldn’t find a way to argue with him and instead just nodded, aware of how she’d started feeling calmer since he’d moved his arms completely around her body. Why did he feel so right when she knew he was nothing but wrong?

  Chapter Eighteen

  GOD…ETHAN HAD to quit staring. He’d managed to talk her into breakfast, even though she had been reluctant about it. There was something bothering her, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He was going to have to pry it out of her.

  He didn’t understand what it could be. Last night had been pretty close to perfect.

  So, as they were waiting for the waitress to bring their breakfast, Jenna sipped on her coffee, and Ethan pondered how he was going to broach the subject. Well, there was no delicate way to just ask, and he needed to know. He waited until Jenna made eye contact with him, and then he said, “So…what’s bothering you?” He lowered his voice and leaned in closer. “Last night was pretty fuckin’ incredible…and I know you felt it too. So what’s going on? Did I say or do something to give you second thoughts? What’s up with that?”

  Her eyes drifted downwards to his shirt, then down to the table. She was considering his words, but he got the feeling that she would say something if he waited. She just had to find a way to word it. She inhaled a deep breath and looked at him again. Her voice was soft and her eyes bright. Christ, she had no idea what she was doing to him. He was just shy of being completely smitten. Her auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail, adding to her look of innocence, but Ethan could tell she was about to lay some heavy shit on him. “Do you remember the first night we met…in group? Remember when I told you everyone there was broken?” He nodded, afraid of breaking her focus. “I meant me too.”

  He looked in her eyes for a few seconds and then said, “You really seem to have your shit together. I find it hard to believe you’re broken.”

  She let out a breath of air and looked down at her hands. “Well, thanks. That says something. I guess that means I’m a hell of an actress.”

  Ethan reached around her coffee cup and took her hand. “No, that means you’re stronger than you think.”

  “Thanks, but…” Her voice trailed off.

  “But what?”

  She shook her head. “I feel like a big faker.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m just pretending. I don’t feel strong at all.”

  Ethan chuckled and squeezed her hand, then let go. “Maybe you don’t feel strong, but you are. Give yourself some credit.”

  She tried to smile and said, “How would you know?”

  “I know.” When she looked at him again, he said, “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Listen, you’ve heard a lot of my shit.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not going to think less of you, no matter what you tell me.”

  She looked skeptical, but she finally nodded her head. “Okay. I can tell you some.” She swallowed, and Ethan wondered if she was going to change her mind. She rubbed her eyebrows and then looked at him again, and he could tell she was trying to smile…it just wasn’t working. “I’ve never picked the right guy. Ever. Not once. And maybe it started that way just because I wanted any excuse to get out of the house. My family’s…not so nice, and so I didn’t care who the guy was, just so long as he’d keep me away for as long as possible. Anyway, two years ago, just after I finished up my Master’s degree, I started dating this guy. He was a bartender. That should have been my first clue, I suppose, but he’d always been funny and charming, and he was cute too. So…the day I had to defend my thesis, right after, I went to the bar and had a few shots. He asked me out that night, and we started dating right after.

  “He was nice at first. Really, he was. He’d buy me flowers and take me out to dinner. But…it wasn’t long before he started treating me like shit. He didn’t lay a hand on me, but it wasn’t what he’d say so much as the way he said it. Well, that’s not exactly true either. He said a lot of not-so-nice things.

  “It wasn’t even noticeable at first. It was subtle, you know, and I was in so deep and didn’t even
realize what was going on. I was counseling people, right, giving them advice on what they should do with their lives, helping them get a handle on their relationships, and I was living a lie. What he did, though, was so…insidious, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Not until the night that woke me up.” She was looking at the table. Ethan could tell by the way she rapidly blinked her eyes that she was having a hard time saying what was on her mind. Maybe she wasn’t going to say anything, but he wanted to be quiet, to encourage her in case she found a way to get the words out of her mouth.

  She inhaled deeply and let it out. She swallowed, still avoiding Ethan’s eyes. Her voice was soft, but she said, “I guess, in a way, it’s a good thing that it happened, because otherwise I don’t know that I would have gotten myself out of the situation.” She looked at Ethan for just a moment and then looked back down. “He…uh…”

  The waitress stopped by their table. “More coffee?”

  Ethan kept his eyes on Jenna but slid his cup toward the waitress. Jenna looked over at her and said, “Yes, please.” Ethan just hoped the interruption wouldn’t stop Jenna from talking about something she obviously needed to let go of…because whatever it was was stopping her from living her life fully, and whether or not she wanted Ethan in her life, she needed to move past whatever it was that was eating at her.

  * * *

  “Your breakfast should be ready any minute.” And off the waitress went, leaving Jenna wondering just how much she really wanted to tell the man across from her. She managed to look at him again, though, and he had that look on his face she’d seen from him so many times before—the one that told her he felt some connection with her.

  “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too hard.”

  Somehow, his words made her want to tell him. Really, there was no reason not to; there was no reason to hide anything from him. It wasn’t like he was going to betray her confidence and tell the world about her troubles, and even if he did, it wouldn’t make her past any better or worse than it had been. In fact, she suspected her past had changed her much like Ethan’s own past had changed him. It had made them both stronger. She trusted him and knew he would understand.

  So she swallowed and poured creamer in her fresh coffee, nodding her head. “It was…a couple of years ago…in the spring. We’d been together close to a year. I’d...uh…gone to a friend’s bachelorette party. We’d been drinking a lot, and she had some guys come to the party…maybe as a last farewell. I don’t know. But we were laughing and dancing and anyway, he showed up, wanting to pick me up. I guess he thought we’d been partying too long.”

  Jenna ran her hand over her forehead, remembering the moment. “I guess I should back up a little. This was after almost an entire year of him slowly taking over my life…and me just letting him. Him telling me what to do, how to dress, how to act, and his methodical way of eroding my self-esteem and sense of worth. It had gotten to where I’d cower inside any time I thought I’d displeased him or made him upset, and yet he’d never physically done anything to inspire that reaction.

  “Well, it turned out I should have been afraid. When he got there, he was just as nice as could be, kissing my friend on the cheek and laughing and joking with the other girls there, but I could sense how angry he was. There was just something subtle in his body language that gave it away…maybe not to anyone else, but I could tell. He was pissed.

  “So we got in the car to head home, and it was deathly silent. That was what confirmed it. Not a word. But I could see it on his face; every time we passed a street light and it shined in the car, I could see it. He was going to give me a long lecture when we got home, and I was dreading it.

  “Still…we got home and he was quiet. I was starting to feel even more scared.” And, she noticed, her hands were shaking a little as she related the story to Ethan. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself out of the moment. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t there anymore. She had escaped. Still, he had scarred her deeply, and she was still coping with the aftermath.

  No, that wasn’t true. She’d never fully coped with it, never faced her feelings. She’d instead buried it all. So it felt somewhat fresh, but she noticed as she continued her story, that part of her felt relieved to be able to tell someone, someone who cared. She looked up at Ethan again as her lips parted. His eyes were tender, gentle, and full of understanding. She could tell he would have been all right had she chosen to not say another word, but he was going to listen if she wanted to finish. “It got to where I couldn’t stand his silence anymore. He was just sitting on the couch, his jaw clenched, staring ahead, smoking a cigarette. I sat next to him on the couch and touched his arm. Yeah, that was more confirmation. He was pissed. So…I did what I’d always done in that situation. I wanted to mollify him, smooth things over.” Just like she’d always done with her dad when he was on an alcoholic rampage…but she wasn’t going to tell Ethan about that. Absolutely not. She was sharing plenty already. “I asked him what was wrong. He said, ‘You know exactly what’s wrong, Jenna.’ I assured him I did not. And then…”

  She let out another breath. Holy fuck. She really hadn’t thought about that moment in two years, and now it was bearing down on her with more force than a hurricane. She felt her stomach clench, and she thought she might throw up, but there was nothing there. The memory came crashing down on her, and she had no choice now. She had to tell it or drown in it. “He grabbed me by the jaw, his whole hand holding my face, and he told me he was disappointed in me, that I had engaged in their little games with the men, that I’d been acting like a slut, just like all of them. I protested, telling him I hadn’t done anything inappropriate, but he wasn’t listening. He just told me I was his, and he was going to make sure I’d never forget.”

  Jenna didn’t even notice the tears that were filling her eyes, nearly welling over, but she felt the sting in her nose. She looked down at the cup in front of her and started blinking, causing the first two tears to fall. But she had to keep telling her story, and at this moment, it didn’t matter if Ethan was listening or not. She had to speak or die. “So…he…” She took in another breath. She tried to cool off, put up the wall she did when she was counseling people, the one that helped her shield her heart. It allowed her to hold it together so she could finish her story, but she could tell it was only temporary. “He…grabbed me by the arms and told me I was his and only his and I should never, ever put myself in a position like that again. But then he stopped talking.” She choked back the emotions, because if she gave in completely, she’d never be able to finish telling Ethan. “I don’t remember it all…just that…he held me down and unfastened my jeans. He…uh…forced himself on me. No foreplay or anything, just…” She nodded. “I guess it would be called rape. It…hurt so bad. It felt like I was going to rip apart. And I know I screamed, but then he covered my mouth with his hand.” She shook her head slightly, trying to switch gears. “Anyway, I just laid on that couch all night long, long after he went to bed. The next morning, before it was even light out, I went to a women’s shelter. I filed a restraining order, not that it meant anything, and I packed my shit. I moved here. He talked to me once…and I told him if he ever came near me again, I’d kill him.” She wasn’t going to tell Ethan that he was her first since leaving her ex. She’d never planned to be with a man again, but she couldn’t have asked for a better reintroduction.

  All those thoughts hid in the back of her mind, though, as the enormity of what had happened to her just over two years earlier crashed down on her. As though she were outside her body, she knew she was crying hard. The tears were streaming down her face, and the numb feeling she’d worn as a cloak had fallen off. She felt exposed and in pain. Ethan got up from his side of the table and slid into the booth beside her. She felt herself pulled into his embrace as her body melted and did what it had needed to for far too long.

  Chapter Nineteen

  THERE WAS SOMETHING about this woman. How and why Jenna continually bro
ught out the best in him, he’d never know. And why hadn’t Valerie been able to bring that out of Ethan? He didn’t blame Valerie, and he knew it was his own shortcoming, but he thought it was because he felt the need to protect Jenna, and maybe it was because he knew her background was similar to his. She actually understood him…and the feeling was mutual.

  God, he felt completely lame and useless, holding this sobbing woman in his arms. He was unable to do anything to make her feel better. He could let her cry, but he felt worthless.

  And wouldn’t you know? The waitress showed up at their booth with their food—pancakes for Jenna, sausage, eggs, and toast for Ethan—and all of it would taste like cold shit by the time she was done. Well, there was no getting around it. He’d buy a second batch when she was ready to eat. She was more important than breakfast. He looked over at the waitress, and she had a bemused look on her face. She whispered, “Want me to leave these under the heat lamp?”

  He nodded, grateful that she was thinking on her toes. He’d have to give her an extra big tip for that. He felt his t-shirt growing damp with Jenna’s tears, and he could feel the force of her sobs. He couldn’t even imagine the psychic scars she was suffering from, and he wondered if maybe this girl was in worse shape than he was. She was definitely stronger; there was no doubt about that in his mind.

  He held her to his chest with his right arm and ran his other hand over her hair, hoping to comfort her to some degree. After a few minutes, he felt her sobs die down somewhat as she exhausted herself. He loved the way her hands were resting on his chest on either side of her head, as though she were taking great comfort in his arms. He hoped she was.

  She sat back and swiped the back of her hand over first one cheek and then the other. She tried to smile when she looked up at him. “Thanks.” Her eyes were puffy as she looked back down at his wet shirt. “Sorry about that.”