Sons of Justice 7: Letting Go of the Pain (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever)

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  “Sounds good. Have a safe flight.” Steve ended the call.

  He walked onto the porch and looked out across the open property. Their new place was big and a long way from the shitholes they were forced to live in as they worked surveillance on some pretty evil bastards. It was how they’d come across connections to some Middle Eastern terrorist cells and their distribution of arms and plans of chemical attacks on local villages. Till this day he had nightmares about some of the things they’d experienced and how close they came to death.

  He shook his head and inhaled. The air was pure, brisk, and clean. His nostrils were no longer compacted with dessert dust, the various smells of death, the violence no longer embedded in his sinuses. He knew the team moved on with this mission and left him out because of the last experience before they’d come here to Repose. The one that left him questioning his existence and asking why he’d survived what he had.

  It was different now. He felt different, and his team was so close they decided that if he needed some time to get his head together and readjust then training other soldiers with Sons of Justice was the answer. It had been Panther and Mink’s idea to help Steve gain back control. He had been held hostage, beaten, tortured, his chest now scarred forever, constant reminders of what he’d gone through. Although he felt like he could accomplish any mission still, there was hesitation, and hesitation not only could get him killed but his team, as well.

  He had been caught and captured, and he would never forget the initial thoughts that attacked his mind when eight men surrounded him, guns drawn, knives out, thinking he was as good as dead. If he made a sound, then he would bring the others to the location and they could get killed, too. One of the men had explosives on him and enough ammunition to kill hundreds of soldiers. He stumbled upon the worst possible place as he and the team were forced to separate in order to get the troops after them to divide and follow. He chose the wrong path, the one leading toward a larger group of terrorists, and that choice he would live with and have reminders of for the rest of his life.

  He slid his palm along the black and hunter green flannel shirt he wore. He could feel the scars and how raised and ugly they were. Constant reminders of his weakness, of the vulnerability he now lived with. He felt like less of a man because of it, and he wondered if he was fooling himself staying here, being part of Sons of Justice when he’d failed as a soldier and as a man. He would have gotten more respect from his team, from other soldiers, hell, their friends if he’d died taking out some of those terrorists, but he hadn’t gotten the chance, and he wondered why. Why was he still alive? What was the point? Anyone with experience in military operations, warfare, tours in the Middle East could train new soldiers. Were they making shit up for him to do? Was Spartan?

  He felt angry as he gripped the porch railing and rocked and shook it hard with his teeth clenched and anger making his blood boil. He turned around and kicked the bucket that was on the floor with the mop. It went flying, and he exhaled, tried calming his breathing. If his brothers, his team, saw him like this, they would flip out on him and think he was a ticking fucking time bomb. Maybe he wasn’t able to be a soldier any longer? Maybe he needed to just stop pretending that he deserved to be here and to be part of this elite group and just fucking disappear?

  Those somber thoughts made that little bit of determination sizzle in his gut.

  He swallowed hard. These feelings of vulnerability, inadequacy weren’t going to make him get stronger mentally. Physically he was pushing himself, and doing the construction helped. He was exhausted at the end of the day but still pushed to do more and worked out, ran, trained, and basically passed out. Was it healthy? No, but it numbed his mind temporarily so at least he could get some sleep. He never failed at anything he did, at anything he wanted to achieve or have. He wasn’t willing to stop now and to give in. Sure, it would be the easy thing to do. Throw in the towel and say fuck it all. But that wasn’t the man he was, despite failing and getting caught by that troop of terrorists. Their abuse, their constant breaking him down physically and mentally was warfare. It was part of the games they played. Men like them made the strongest soldiers suffer, give in, and ultimately beg for death, and then, instead of killing them easy, they tortured some more. Broke the soldier down literally piece by piece.

  He’d seen it himself and thought it was the way he would eventually die, too, but just as he was about to beg for death and it was on the tip of his tongue, his team, his brothers-in-arms came barreling in, causing a wave of destruction and annihilation in their path and rescuing him. He never told them the feelings he had in that moment. That it wasn’t relief he felt and joy that he would live. No, instead he felt hollow. He had given up. He hadn’t been able to hold on emotionally or physically any longer. He wasn’t invincible as he’d thought. He was a failure, weak, needy, instead of important and a necessity. Which is ultimately why he wasn’t with them on this mission to Chile and wouldn’t be going on any missions perhaps ever again.

  He wasn’t the only one suffering either. Mink and Eddie were cold as ice, to almost everyone. They didn’t socialize unless they had to, and they barely went out. Now that they were here in Repose, amongst so many friends and fellow soldiers that shared their experiences or similar ones, it was different. No one pushed, but if they didn’t socialize a little, their commanders, Spartan, John, Hans, Brye and Nolan would wonder if they were suitable for their positions and capable of handling any missions they sent their way. Sons of Justice required the most elite, capable, and resourceful soldiers in the country. That was why it was important for Steve to try and get his shit together and regain his power, control, and capabilities again. He needed confidence, a reason to live, to fight, to train, to succeed and to feel like a soldier again. Nothing inspired him to get better and to improve and fight for what he loved. For being an American soldier and an elite member of Sons of Justice. What could possibly make him feel inspired and want to get better? What?

  He walked back inside to get ready for a few hours finishing up some last-minute work at the new bookstore and café, Happy Endings. Then he would hit the supermarket before heading home and waiting for the rest of the team to get home. Home? He looked around the place. He couldn’t help but not want to let his guard down and embrace this new life. Everything seemed so temporary still, as if at any moment he would have to leave here. There was no stability, no set routine and responsibility, and he never had a problem with that until now. Until surviving almost dying at the hands of men who killed babies for a living and anyone who represented the strength of America. Soldiers.

  He swallowed hard and focused on the next thing to do today.

  One step at a time, Steve. One step at a time.

  * * * *

  “Lauren, do you think we’ll be all set for the opening in a few days?” Bo asked her.

  Lauren was rolling out the dough for homemade mini apple, cherry, and blueberry pies. She loved getting lost in her baking and not thinking of anything but her finished project. She looked up and smiled as Lauren rearranged the counter again for the tenth time. She wasn’t sure if she liked the register on the left or the right and kept going over how she would greet customers and what hand she would use to accept their payment for things. She’d already had several teenagers come in asking if she were hiring part time.

  “I think you’ll be fine. Everything looks amazing,” Lauren told her, and the sound of the bell ringing as someone entered the front door gained Bo’s attention.

  Bo smiled wide. Lauren glanced toward the back hallway and room. She could hear the banging. Steve was still in there working, finishing up on some trim molding. He made her nervous, especially as he would just appear out of nowhere, and she’d caught him watching her. He had such intense blue eyes he scared her.

  Lauren smiled to herself at the sight of Bo’s wide smile and bright eyes as she spotted Channing and Philippe enter from the front door. They smiled, too, and it wasn’t hard to see the true love they
shared. Lauren would be lying if she said she wasn’t affected by the many successful ménage relationships around Repose. But then she looked at Philippe and Channing pull Bo between them and hug and kiss her. She couldn’t be blinded by the love and care they seemed to show Bo. Her own experiences made her a different person when it came to everything, especially men, and specifically military men.

  Like’s Thylane’s lovers, members of Sons of Justice, too, these men had a way about them. A vibe they gave off that intimidated, shocked, hell, left people speechless. That unnerved her a bunch. In fact, she wondered if taking this job was a smart idea because she really found discomfort around soldiers of any kind, even taken ones.

  “Good morning, Lauren, please tell me you are making those little fruit pies Bo brought home the other day,” Philippe said, coming closer to the counter and peeking over at her in the kitchen.

  She gave a soft smile. “Yes, sir. Cherry, apple and blueberry.”

  “Sweetie, it’s Philippe, remember?” he asked, and she looked up and saw their expressions. Bo’s was happy and smiling, but Philippe and Channing held Lauren’s gaze with what she felt was distrust. Well, she felt the same about them.

  “So how is the board coming along?” Channing asked and drew his attention back to Bo.

  She took a deep breath and exhaled then locked gazes with Lauren. Lauren chuckled. “What?” Philippe asked.

  “I can’t decide. I’ve been driving Lauren crazy.” Bo looked at the large chalkboard on the wall before the register where people could check out the menu there and then order.

  “You aren’t driving me crazy. You just want things perfect, and there isn’t anything wrong with that,” Lauren told her.

  “It will be perfect, Bo. Plus, as people come in, they’ll let you know what they like by how much they order. Then you’ll know what to have available. You can also change the menu up adding different items or taking some away, too.” Channing wrapped his arm around Bo’s waist and kissed her neck.

  Lauren looked away, feeling a combination of things. She had given her heart, her soul, and virginity to Logan and Connor, and it had all been a setup, a game for money. There were so many aspects of that relationship and what had happened for her to continuously analyze. Ultimately it was their treatment of her. Their abuse, commanding military ways, that really took up most of her thoughts. The mistreatment and how they used their capabilities, their strength, and words to make her submit. She could feel the burn under her breast. The scar from the cigar Logan had pressed there as Connor watched and held her down. Tears stung her eyes, and sickness filled her belly. She could never get rid of it. She maneuvered her lowered arm over where the burn was, unable to caress it with her hand because she was fixing the pies.

  She set the pie dough into each of the small pans preparing for the next step, but her mind was having flashbacks of the abuse. She could still feel the sensations against her skin, her wrist when Connor grabbed her and dragged her along to wherever he wanted to place her. At first he and Logan made it seem sexy, like they were dominant and commanding and would pleasure her, make her want their hands on her, but soon, those arousing touches turned to painful ones and showed a control of her and her body that scared her.

  She tried not to think about their verbal abuse, too, a way to reinforce the physical. How had she been so stupid, so weak? When did she lose control of her own abilities to be strong, to be independent, to demand respect and care?

  “Lauren?” She heard her name and looked up to see Bo with a concerned expression, as well as Channing and Philippe. She looked down to the table where she was preparing the pies, and they were complete. Her mind had been a blur, so lost in the past, in the memories of her pain that she just kept working and doing, and if she’d been alone, like usual, no one would have known the suffering she faced every day. The depth of her pain, her regrets, her fears, and her desire to get stronger and eventually put it all behind her.

  “What do you think?” she asked, trying to pretend like she hadn’t just completely spaced out on them and their conversation. Thank God Bo smiled and walked closer, placed her arm around Lauren’s shoulder, and gave her a squeeze. “They look incredible. What are you going to work on next?” she asked.

  “The cookie dough. I just need to use the ladies room. Do you mind keeping an eye on the oven for just a minute?” Lauren asked, feeling self-conscious about her actions and gaining the men’s attention and obvious concern as they still watched her.

  “Of course not. Go ahead. I’ll be here staring at the counter, fixing it again.” Bo chuckled.

  Lauren forced a small chuckle. That was another thing, laughter. She didn’t laugh anymore. Nothing made happiness, joy, laughter reach her eyes.

  She wiped her hands on the apron, placed the pies in the oven, and then walked away.

  * * * *

  “She okay?” Philippe asked Bo as soon as Lauren walked down the hallway.

  “She’ll be fine, why?” Bo asked and then walked back over to the counter.

  “She seems preoccupied and, well, sad.” Philippe looked back toward where Lauren had gone.

  “She’ll be okay, Philippe. It will take time for her to heal from things in her past. You know from Finlin and Thylane’s men that both Thylane and Lauren were held hostage and beaten. They nearly died.” Bo swallowed hard.

  “We know about that, as well as about the abuse she sustained prior to that. Thylane told us when I was concerned about the fear Lauren has in her eyes whenever men are around. Do you think she’ll take Cesar’s advice and go see that therapist in town?” Channing said to her.

  “Right now I think she’ll pass on that. Her emotions are still raw. Things are unsettled having to move here and into the small apartment with her sisters. Working here on a daily basis, meeting people, socializing on a regular friendly basis will all be positive to her confidence and getting comfortable. This will help her heal. She’s good at baking and creating. She also has a degree in business and accounting. She can be an asset to this place if…it’s a success.” Bo exhaled.

  Channing chuckled and then wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her.

  “Baby, it’s going to be exceptional.” He turned her around in his arms and kissed her lips again and then trailed his mouth along her neck and shoulder, making her giggle and try to break free as she laughed. When they heard the bell chime, Channing stopped suckling against her neck and shoulder but remained holding her as Cesar came in with his wife, Antonia, and his brother, Damon, a Texas Ranger.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Philippe asked, greeting the men with handshakes and giving Antonia a kiss on the cheek hello.

  Antonia smiled wide.

  “This looks incredible Bo, and it smells so good in here,” Antonia said, and then Lauren reappeared in the room.

  Channing noticed how Lauren slid to the other side of the counter and back to the open kitchen area. It didn’t go unnoticed, and Cesar approached the counter.

  “Hi, Lauren, what is that wonderful smell? Something you’re baking?” he asked.

  She gave a soft smile. “Yes, sheriff, some fruit pies,” she said in a soft tone but lowered her eyes.

  “Wait until Fox and Gino come check this place out. They’ll be coming here all the time.” Cesar gave her a wink.

  “I’ll be stopping in all the time while working. I hear you’re going to have some gourmet coffees and other things, as well,” Damon said, and Channing watched Lauren look at each of the men but not make eye contact.

  “I’m looking forward to coming here on my days off to read a book without being interrupted,” Antonia said to Cesar and gave him a nudge as she smiled at Lauren and Bo.

  Cesar pulled her close and kissed her neck. “Interrupted, huh?” He ran his palm up Antonia’s belly and then to her hip, giving it a squeeze as he whispered something in her ear. Antonia’s face flushed, and then she gave the sheriff’s hand a light slap.

  “Stop that. So, Bo, are you all
set for the grand opening? Is there anything you need help with?”

  Bo chuckled. “I’m good. Thanks so much. I think Lauren has the kitchen and baked goods set and ready. I’m doing the meet and greets, and Brazille is off so she’s going to work the register and assist depending on how busy it is, so I think I’m okay. Well, I hope I’m okay. Shoot, do you think I’ll be okay?” she said, turning to Channing and Philippe, who chuckled.

  Channing smiled wide. He was so proud of his woman and all she had accomplished and especially that she was a hundred percent recovered from her injuries. “Baby, you’ll be just fine, plus every one of your friends will be here, so if you need any help, they’ll have your back and so will all of us.”

  She smiled. “I can’t believe it’s just a few days away. We should check on the landscapers and make sure that fountain is working properly and they got everything set up outside.”

  “It’s going to be great weather, too. I think an early spring,” Cesar said to them.

  Channing looked back at Lauren, who really kept to herself and didn’t engage in the conversation. She was very, very shy, and he would keep eyes on her to make sure she was okay.

  * * * *

  Lauren gathered the garbage from the kitchen and headed down the hallway to the back door. Bo and her men were out back in the gardens going over some things for the landscaping. It was going to be gorgeous when it was complete. Considering it was still sort of cold out, Bo had designed areas that blocked any elements and wind so that people could still enjoy even having coffee, tea, or specialty hot apple cider.

  When she exited the back door, her eyes on the dumpster and nothing else, she was shocked to see Steve out there. He was on a ladder, standing on the top wrung on tiptoes, trying to work on something on the side of the building that looked broken. He was flexing his muscles, straining to reach something higher up, and the ladder was shaking. As it started to move and wobble, she dropped the bag as he cursed, and she grabbed onto the ladder.