What kind of person did they think she was? One who would put children and innocent people at risk? Maybe she shouldn’t take the job? Maybe she wasn’t safe here. “I would never put children or anyone else at risk. Never.” A tear fell. Nolan squinted.
“You come clean on everything. You don’t leave one fucking detail out.” Brye stroked her hip on the side where the scar was.
“Let’s go. Right to the house.”
“No. I need to shower first, and it’s early.”
“Everyone is up. Probably making breakfast now. Let’s move,” Nolan demanded, and both men flanked her sides, keeping possessive hands at her hips as they walked.
She couldn’t believe what she was feeling. She swallowed hard. Now she had to face the others, too. She didn’t want to tell them what had happened. How Stan broke into her place and attempted to rape her. She didn’t.
As they approached the back porch, John was there holding a cup of coffee and squinting.
“What’s going on?” he asked, eyeing her over. Again, her nipples hardened, and she avoided his gaze.
“Breakfast, water, and then Cherokee is going to tell us exactly what happened and what her injuries are. Then a trip to the doctor’s office,” Brye stated.
“Doctor’s office? What’s wrong? You’re hurting?” John asked and reached out and touched her hair. It was a very intimate thing to do, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Brye and Nolan.
“She needs stitches removed. A lot of them,” Nolan said then narrowed his eyes like he was truly angry that she had been stabbed.
She didn’t get these men. Why would they feel so concerned? She knew they knew her fathers’ friends, but seriously, they were soldiers. They saw worse injuries than this. What was happening here? She had no experience with men except getting them to leave her alone. She never felt a real attraction to any. Never had a boyfriend, and she was fine with that. A twenty-four-year-old virgin now surrounded by older, hell, much older soldiers with sexy, fit bodies, and she was a walking hormone. What the hell?
“Let me see.” John placed his coffee mug down on the table on the porch. He stepped closer, and she shook her head and took a retreating step back.
“There’s nothing to see. I’ll let the doctor do it.”
“Let the doctor do what?” Spartan asked, joining them on the porch.
“She has to have stitches removed. It’s a fucking knife wound, Spartan,” Nolan said in anger.
Spartan’s eyes narrowed. “Get inside. It’s time, Cherokee. No more bullshit excuses.”
She swallowed hard. There would be no hiding the truth from these men. She could give them some details. Enough to get the gist of it. She had been around them for two weeks now. Surely if they weren’t trustworthy she would sense it. She focused on her fathers’ orders. Her dads trusted these men. She needed to also. She thought of how Nolan and Brye pushed her to continue the run, despite their earlier insistence that she couldn’t make it. She’d proved her strength and willpower then, and they proved their support of her. She had to do this. Perhaps getting it off her chest would help with the nightmares she had, or possibly make them worse. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked into the house with the men following her.
* * * *
Nolan looked at Cherokee as she guzzled down a full bottle of water while Hans cooked up some more eggs.
“Let them see the cut and the stitches that need to be removed,” Nolan told her.
“For what reason?” she asked, and Nolan stepped closer. She took a retreating step back, but Brye gripped her hips. She gasped.
“We’re you’re protectors now, you’re fucking shadows, and the sooner you disclose all pertinent information to us so we know how to prepare, the better. So lift up your shirt. Show Spartan and the others the damage to that perfect skin of yours and realize that we are not going to let anything happen to you from here on out,” Nolan stated firmly.
He hoped in that moment she realized that all five of them were commanders. They had their separate groups of men and some women they trained and were responsible for. Spartan and John weren’t the only ones in charge here.
As she took a few unsteady breaths, Hans turned off the stove and walked closer. He crossed his arms.
When she slowly raised her T-shirt, her taut abs coming into sight, as well as a deep, long knife wound with about twenty-plus stitches, Nolan felt the atmosphere change. Hans uncrossed his arms. Brye placed his hand on her shoulder for support and his other hand on her hip. Spartan and John stepped closer, placed their hands on her skin, and looked.
“Where did you go to get these stitches, and without drawing attention from police or the one responsible?” Spartan asked firmly and then looked back at the work.
She was breathing funny, and her eyes welled up with tears, but she didn’t cry.
“Someone my fathers trusted.”
Nolan squinted at her and looked at Hans, who moved around the table.
She jerked as John caressed her thigh where bruises were. “And these?” he asked and glanced up at her.
Her lips parted, and she held his gaze.
“Just remnants of the attack. I was pretty banged up.” She pulled her shirt higher and turned slightly.
“Broke two ribs, bruised others.” Then she turned and pulled her shirt down.
John and Spartan stared at her. Nolan was shocked at the sensations he felt. The attraction. The instant protective sensation that filled him. He stared at her full, pink lips and those glossy green eyes. Her determination to be strong was obvious and commendable and the fear, the danger she’d gone through, was presenting itself the more they broke her down.
“Let’s sit, eat, and talk,” Nolan stated.
“And if I don’t want to?” she asked.
“You have no choice here. You need to understand that each of us is a commander. Men in charge of different groups of men, and the five of us are sharing the responsibility of watching over you. You will submit. Entirely and without resistance,” Nolan demanded.
She placed her hands on her hips, causing her breasts to push forward in the low cut, V-neck T-shirt she wore. She looked sexy, all fired up, and those green eyes had daggers in them.
“Submit? Entirely without resistance? Who the hell are you? I’m not one of your troops. I came here willingly, not to be controlled or ordered around,” she stated, raising her voice.
“We’re in charge, and you need to get used to it,” Nolan stated.
“I don’t need to get used to anything.”
“You’re getting sidetracked. Let’s talk about what happened to you. Leave nothing out, Cherokee. Nothing,” Spartan said to her as he pointed at her with his firm expression and narrowed eyes. She gulped.
Nolan was at his wit’s end. No one, no one spoke back to him or made him feel so compelled to react. This woman got under his skin. He was attracted to her. Fuck, his dick got hard the moment he saw her sexy, fit body in the short shorts and T-shirt with her breasts nearly pouring from the top. She had muscular arms, super tight abs, and it was obvious she worked out. To know that someone stabbed her, beat her to the point of having ribs bruised and broken, and that she’d been forced to hide in that condition and use her fathers’ resources, drove him insane. He needed to know what happened.
* * * *
“I was teaching at a school in Arkansas. Small town, great kids, and nice community.”
“Name of the town?” John asked.
She swallowed hard. Cherokee didn’t want to tell them. They seemed hot-headed, especially Nolan and the way he stared at her. She didn’t realize that they were all commanders. That they held the same rank yet were one team here, living in this house together.
“Cherokee.” Spartan said her name, and she reacted immediately.
“Sun Valley.”
She then looked down at her hands, which were shaking.
“It was great at first. Everyone was friendly, but just a little too nosey
maybe. I mean I didn’t really think too much of it until months later. Until people said different things to me.”
“What do you mean?” John asked.
She looked at him, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
“I guess I had a routine. Jogged every morning at five a.m., stopped at the café for coffee if I didn’t head home to make my own. Got ready for work, took my car to the school, hit the store after, and then went home. On the weekends, I worked out and trained and sometimes went camping.”
“Alone?” Nolan asked.
“My fathers taught me well, Nolan,” she snapped at him.
“Doesn’t mean shit if a bunch of guys show up and have guns,” he replied.
“I had guns, too,” she said to him and then looked away.
“When did the trouble start, and who started it?” Spartan asked and gave Nolan a look, like some silent exchange.
“I guess when I started to go out with some of the other women in town, to town events and local restaurants. Stanston seemed to have his eyes on me from day one. He would show up where I was more often than not. Start up conversations and then take every opportunity to touch me or to be close by. He seemed nice, but he kind of put me on alert.”
“How so?” Brye asked her.
“I just got this funny feeling like he was a creep. He was older, and he was a heavy influence in the town, and one day he asked me to dinner, and I declined. He got pissed. He seemed shocked, like he expected me to be all giddy about him having an interest in me. It was so weird, and I walked away from him. Not long after, some other women asked me why I said no to a date with him. I said I didn’t like him in that way, and I didn’t date.” She got quiet.
“Then little things started happening.” She played with her fingers. Brye reached over and covered her hands with his.
“Little things?” he asked. She held his gaze. Took in the sight of his hazel eyes, military haircut, and tan skin.
“I got a flat tire on my way home, and he was there in a parked car like he was just waiting for me.”
“He helped you with the tire?” John asked.
“Yes, even though I insisted I could handle it. He seemed annoyed at my capabilities. Like I was a woman and I shouldn’t be changing my own tire. It just made me get more annoyed with him.”
Hans snorted.
“What else?” John asked.
“I blew him off again, and then he shows up at an event I was invited to. A party that he really wasn’t invited to, but because of that power role he was in, he showed up when and where he chose. It was then I realized that people feared him for some reason. I started to get concerned, and when I asked one of the other women, a teacher, she told me I should accept his interest and that things would be better for me. I didn’t quite understand, but then I heard that the teacher before me, a young woman, had left town in a hurry. When I asked more questions, I was told by that same female teacher, not to ask. So now I’m in this town a year, have a great class of kids, and something is up with this guy Stanston.”
“Why not leave if you had a bad feeling?” Nolan asked.
She looked at him as if he were stupid.
“Seriously, Nolan? Over some weird guy, over whispered stories of the woman getting out of town quickly after something happened to her, and I’m supposed to leave the kids, my job, my house, and my life in Arkansas?”
“I guess not. So you were on guard then, and what? Tried to find out why the other teacher left town?”
“I did, and the sheriff came to see me. He was aggressive. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“No, let’s not. Every detail, Cherokee,” Spartan commanded.
She swallowed and stared right at Spartan. “He came to see me after the class left to go home. I was packing things up, and he came in, sat on the edge of my desk, and stared at me. He licked his lips, acted like he was flirting as he stroked his Stetson and told me about the last teacher. Saying she wasn’t smart. That she didn’t understand the town rules. That I need to understand them, and I should accept Stanston’s offer of a date. I laughed at him, and he got angry. As I went to step away, he gripped my arm and spoke firmly, eyeing over my body, making me feel like the sheriff was not a good guy at all.”
“What did he say?” Brye asked.
“That I was pretty, young, and that Stanston had his eyes on me and I was to cooperate. That I would be taken care of.”
“And?” John asked.
She squinted and made an angry face. “I told that jerk he could go screw himself and if he thought Stanston was such a great catch then he should go out on a date with him,” she stated firmly. They chuckled.
“I’m guessing that backfired on you,” Spartan said, straight-faced.
She felt the tears reach her eyes. “Things got worse. Other people in town were pushing me to go out with Stanston. Stanston even tried kissing me one night by my car, and I shoved him off. Told him I wasn’t interested and to leave me alone. He ranted about how I would belong to him and that I needed to know how the town rules worked. He chose me, and that was it. I told him to go screw himself. Then I went home.”
She got quiet.
“A few days later, a Friday night after work, I was sleeping in bed when I heard something. But before I could react, Stanston was in my room, and in a flash, he was straddling my hips with a knife against my throat.”
“Fuck,” John whispered.
She tried taking a few unsteady breaths, but she couldn’t. She just wanted to get through this moment. Get it off her chest. She started to cry, with every detail of his touch, his words, his lips against her skin.
“He told me I was his. That the town knew and all men knew that I would be his woman, and there was no reason to resist anymore. I tried pushing him off of me, and that’s when it got worse. He started to strike me, in the face, in the ribs, and with my body half under the covers, I couldn’t use my legs to fight back. I was screaming and begging for him to stop, and he put his forearm against my throat and kept the blade to my shirt. He ripped it. Cut it open and stared at my breasts. I was fuming mad and so scared and couldn’t move. I couldn’t.” She looked right at Spartan.
“Of course you couldn’t. He was bigger, stronger, and you were restrained. How did you get free? Or didn’t you?” he asked, and she saw all their angry expressions. She started to ramble.
“I acted like I gave up. Like I was no longer going to fight him. So when he lifted his forearm and then his body and began to pull down the covers, I knew it was him or me here. That if I fought him off I would need to run from this town. The people, the sheriff, would believe him, not me. So as he tore off my panties, I took a shot at him. He raged, hit me several times, and somehow as we struggled with one another, we rolled off the bed. My head hit the corner of the dresser hard, stunning me. He lifted my hair and banged my head again against the dresser. I was losing focus, screaming my head off, and I shoved my palm upward against his jaw, shocking him. I fell to the floor. He slammed on top of me, and we struggled, fighting one another, and I rolled to the right. My ribs were killing me.”
She swallowed hard. The tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she wiped them away.
“And?” Hans asked.
“He yelled at me and told me to cooperate and that I was going to be tied to his bed and I would submit to his demands or else. I screamed at him and struck him again, and that’s when he cut me with the knife. The pain, the sting, so instant and bad, I screamed and knocked the knife from his hand. It fell to the side, and I reached for it. When he came at me, I started slashing him. The neck, his chest, and he eased off and I scrambled to my feet somehow and struck him in the side with the knife. He grabbed it, fell backward, and lay there raging. He was trying to grab my ankle and yell at me, telling me I was as good as dead as I tried to escape.
“I was so scared, and angry, I kicked at him and just kept kicking him until he released his hold. I grabbed my stuff. Money, whatever I could, threw on clothes, a
nd I got the hell out of there. It wasn’t until I was a good thirty minutes out of town that I started feeling the adrenaline rush leaving me. I couldn’t stop though. If he called the sheriff, then the sheriff would call other people and get them after me. I had to get across the state and even farther if I could. I just kept driving and driving until my eyelids were so heavy and I felt so weak.”
“Why didn’t you call us then?” Spartan asked.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I don’t know. I think I just didn’t know if I could trust anyone, but as the knife wound bled, and I felt about ready to pass out, I knew I needed medical attention. Plus, my one eye was swollen shut, my lips spilt, my cheek and my thighs all bruised up and ugly.” She sniffled and covered her mouth with her hand. Brye clutched her shoulder.
“I called the number my fathers gave me for their friend, a doctor. Someone they said to call only if I couldn’t go to a hospital.”
“Tonic?” Spartan asked. She nodded.
“Jesus. He’s the one that got you the other car? Got the registration and stuff and got rid of your other one?” Spartan asked.
“Yes. He even offered for me to stay at his place, but then I called you guys because I realized that I needed to work. There was no money. I couldn’t expect Tonic to pay for me. He seemed a little flirty, and I didn’t think it would be smart to stay.” She saw their facial expressions, and Nolan uncrossed his arms and then looked away.
“He’s a good man, and you’re an attractive young woman. He took care of you for weeks,” John said to her.
Sons of Justice 1: In Good Hands (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever) Page 4