Cherish and Protect

by Lori Ryan

  Presley pulled him inside, Lulu on their heels, into the space he knew would be her workroom. The man who’d just brought wood inside was setting it down on a pair of saw horses, measuring tape ready to make cuts.

  “Hey, Presley,” he said. “Seth’s got one of the windows framed out front if you want to take a look at it.” He looked at the dog. “There are sharp things on the floor. Nails and shit.”

  James tensed. “She stays with me.”

  The man shrugged a response but didn’t object. James made a mental note to get some kind of boots or something to protect Lu’s feet.

  “This is James Lawless,” Presley said. “James, this is Seb Hart. He and his brothers sold me the building. They do construction around town and also own a bunch of properties in the area.”

  Seb stopped to shake James’s hand. If he thought anything of the fact that James was the failed soldier who had gotten himself captured and tortured—twice—he didn’t say anything. He just shook his hand with a nod and went back to work.

  Presley turned to James. “This is the workroom,” she said and then led him out the door into a tight hallway and gestured at a small door across the hall. “Storage in here.”

  James poked his head into the room she’d indicated. He would put shelves in here for her. Not the kind made with his split logs. These ones would be functional, either of wood or maybe the wire kind. He’d have to take measurements and see which ones she preferred. He’d also see what she needed to store in there. Depending on her needs, he could make her something custom.

  She led the way out toward the store, pointing to a room next to the storage room. “Bathroom,” she said. “There’s only one, but I won’t have a lot of customers in all at once, so it should be fine. They had to open up the doorway to meet the current access requirements, and I’m going to put in all new fixtures.”

  He stuck his head in and saw a toilet that had seen a lot better days. Even by his standards, which were admittedly low, it wasn’t pleasant. Of course, he’d lived in a cell that had a hole dug in the ground for him to piss in during most of his captivity, so he wasn’t one to worry too much about rust stains on the porcelain.

  And then they walked out into the retail space and she grinned so wide, it took his breath away. He’d never in a million years get tired of the sight of Presley Royale happy.

  Two men turned to look over their shoulders and Presley introduced them as two of the other Hart brothers, Shaw and Seth.

  He was guessing their mom and dad liked names that started with S.

  “Almost done with this one, Pres. Go on outside and take a look,” the one named Seth said. Seth was the one Presley mentioned the most, and James found himself assessing the man. He was smart enough to recognize the guy had a look that was attractive to women. He was strong and had dark hair and that stubble that guys in underwear ads all seemed to have.

  One of the guys in James’s unit had always been obsessed with shaving his stubble down to the point it was short, but not gone all together. The idiot would rub his hand over his chin and say his stubble got him all the girls.

  “I’d shake your hand,” Seth said, not finishing the thought as he and his brother lifted the window into the frame.

  James watched as Presley appeared on the other side of the window, smiling wide and bouncing up and down. “I think she likes it,” he said, grinning as the men laughed.

  She came running back in and the swell of pride he felt when she jumped right to him and into his arms was probably a little ridiculous. Still, he wrapped his arms around her waist and breathed deep. He was off the ranch, interacting with other people, and he was okay.

  She went around, showing him where she wanted to put the reception desk for checking customers out and where she thought the floating shelves could go.

  “Katelyn said she could curate some artists to do small hangings for me so the shop could be part of the town’s artist night each month. It might bring people in who wouldn’t necessarily buy any flowers just then, but they’d see the shop and might remember it when they need flowers.”

  He pointed to the far corner. “Over there?”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Seth ambled over then, sticking his hand out to shake James’s hand now that he was free. Then he gestured at the corner he and Presley were facing. “We could install spot lights you can angle in up there, instead of the recessed lighting we’re doing everywhere else.”

  “Let me see what Katelyn says,” Presley answered. “I’m not sure what would be best.”

  James put his hand on Presley’s lower back, feeling the need to lay claim to her in front of Seth. Not that the man had done anything to indicate he was interested in Presley, but who wouldn’t be: The Hart brothers would have to be dead not to appreciate her. Or gay. He eyed the men again, hoping maybe they were gay, but he’d never been very good at reading that kind of thing. What were the chances they were all gay?

  “Do you want to show me what you’re thinking for the reception desk and I’ll take some measurements? How far did you want it to come out?” He pulled the measuring tape he’d brought out of his pocket and moved toward the back corner on the left side of the room.

  Seth followed. “Presley told us about the shelves and table you’re making for her. I wanted to see if you had any interest in designing a mantle for us. We’re flipping a house nearby and it’s a pretty bland rectangle. Anything we can do to add a little hint of uniqueness to it will be a big help. We’re planning to cut a few windows into it like we’re doing here, but it needs more if we’re going to sell it.”

  James glanced to Presley who was busy looking at the corner where the reception area would go, then back to Seth. “I’m happy to look but I don’t know if I can promise to have anything ready on a certain schedule.” He flexed his hands, knowing on some level he was opening and closing them, but not conscious enough of the movement to stop it.

  Lulu interrupted the motion and he buried his fingers in her thick fur.

  Seth didn’t seem to notice. “We’ll be on a tight schedule, but we can always have a backup ready. If you don’t have it finished in time, we can install something store bought and use the one you make on another house.”

  With that, the man went to help his brother lift the next window into place. Just like that, he’d accepted that James wasn’t going to be reliable and that was seemingly okay. He wondered how much Presley had told them about him.

  Then again, the whole town was probably talking about him. It wasn’t any secret he was here and more than likely, people expected him to be bat shit crazy after being in captivity for so many years.

  He looked over at Presley. He had to admit, between her, his sister, and the sessions with Sarah, he was beginning to feel like he might come through this. Probably not with all his sanity intact, and probably not as a completely normal person, but for once, he felt like he might have a future that included more than merely trying to survive.

  27

  Presley heard the phone ring before she came fully out of the fog of sleep. James’s voice didn’t sound sleepy at all when he answered, and she wondered if that was a side effect of having lived in the military, needing to awaken quickly and be ready to handle anything on a moment’s notice. Or maybe it came from living so many years in captivity when sleeping heavily meant danger.

  He was silent after he said hello, listening to whomever was on the other end of the line. When a minute had passed, he swore softly and sat in the bed, cradling his head in his hands.

  “I don’t know,” he said after a minute of trying to control his breathing. She could hear the deep swallows and gulps of air, not at all like the controlled way she had come to expect of him.

  “When?”

  Presley sat up, pulling the sheet with her to cover her breasts and laying a hand on James’s back.

  “Okay.” He hit the end call button and turned to her, burying his head in her lap as she wrapped her arms around h
im.

  Presley didn’t speak and neither did he. Whatever the call had been about, it was bad. It was an hour or more that he held her there.

  He didn’t cry, or yell, or speak. He didn’t close his eyes. He simply stared at the wall, eyes locked on something she couldn’t see.

  Her arms and legs ached from holding the position, but she held him anyway, knowing he needed this and willing to give it to him. She didn’t know why, really. She just knew she would always give him what he needed. Or try to anyway.

  She didn’t know her reasons for caring so much for this man, but she suspected it was because he never tried to convince her he was anything other than what he was. He never tried to get her to be something she wasn’t, either. Never manipulated her or tried to shape her to meet his needs instead of her own. He took her as she was.

  When words did come, his throat was scratchy and thick, and she was reminded of times she’d wanted to cry as a child but had held back the tears. It always left her with a painful lump in her throat that wouldn’t go away.

  “Will you go to Pennsylvania with me?”

  Presley didn’t ask when or why or for how long. She didn’t need to. If he was asking, he needed her. And if he was willing to go to Pennsylvania, something bad had happened.

  “Yes,” was all she said.

  28

  Special Forces Operations Sergeant Eric “Lars” Larson’s funeral was to be held in three days’ time in Pennsylvania. James and Presley flew out the following day with Lulu accompanying James as his service animal, then rented a car from the airport to Hunt’s apartment where they planned to stay.

  “Brother.” Hunt’s greeting was low and solemn as he clasped James’s hand. Even Lulu seemed to sense the somber occasion. She stayed closer to James than usual as though she could tell he needed it.

  There were others in the room, and some of them murmured greetings to James. He nodded and held fast to Presley’s hand as Hunt led the way to a small guest room.

  “Sorry about the space,” Hunt said, moving a few boxes that stood by the foot of the bed onto an old desk shoved into a corner of the room.

  “It’s fine,” Presley said.

  James put their bags on the bed and turned to Hunt. “We’re good. We might crash, if that’s okay with you.”

  Hunt nodded. “Holler if you need anything.”

  He left, shutting the door behind him. Hunt had been the one to find Lars’s body after he’d shot himself. Presley couldn’t imagine what that was doing to him. She didn’t know him well, but even she could see Hunt seemed to take responsibility for everyone around him.

  She laid her hand on James’s arm. “If you want to go out and visit with everyone, I understand. I’ll be fine here.” She’d read that veterans often found solace in being with other groups of veterans. That it was a comfort they couldn’t find with civilians.

  He shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

  She sat on the bed next to him and took his hand, pressing it between her two. She knew he wouldn’t open up to her. Not right then.

  The guys he’d been closest to in all the world had been in the firefight that left him a captive, and Hunt and Lars were all that was left of that unit. She was sure there must be others in the military he knew, guys he’d served with in whatever was larger than a unit—she didn’t know enough to know the terms. She didn’t press, though. She wouldn’t ask where the others were and whether he would want to see them someday. She had a feeling James was one-of-a-kind, or at least one-of-a-very-few, in today’s army.

  This wasn’t like the Vietnam War when there were many prisoners of war. Today, prisoners of war were rare. This left James in a solitary position even among veterans who had served alongside him. She couldn’t hope to understand it.

  He kicked off his shoes and she did the same before he pulled her onto the bed. Their lovemaking was silent and achingly slow and sweet. He held her and took her with such need it made her weep, but she turned her head and brushed the tears away before he could see them.

  She wanted with all her heart to take away some of the pain this man had been dealt. It was too much. It was all too much for any person to handle.

  James clung to her all weekend, refusing to let her leave his side, even when he joined the other veterans after the ceremony at Lars’s home. His widow and children were there. All of the other women who had attended the funeral went to the kitchen, but James kept Presley with him, her hand tightly woven in his as though he needed a lifeline. She didn’t know how to be a lifeline. She had no idea how to be what he needed, but she stayed with him and held his hand.

  The men told stories and joked, often with crass punch lines that made Presley blush. One guy seemed to think that was funny and set out to make her blush again. He stopped when he caught sight of the stare James gave him.

  The guy seemed to focus in on James after that and Presley felt the tension in James when he asked a question.

  “You really don’t remember anything about that day you were caught? You know almost your whole damned unit was killed that day, right? You don’t remember any of that, huh? That’s pretty good for you, I guess.”

  Presley stiffened, the edge to the man’s tone making her almost as nervous as the slur in his words. He was drinking something amber in a glass, but she didn’t know enough to know if it was whiskey or scotch or something else altogether.

  All the other men there were looking at the guy like he was an asshole, too.

  “Hammond, knock it the fuck off,” Hunt said, before James had said anything.

  Presley watched James clench his fist, but Lulu came and pressed her head to his hand, then licked his palm when he opened it. He gestured to her and she crawled up, front paws in his lap so he could hold her.

  Hammond, the guy who asked the utterly ridiculous question, was currently being herded to another room by Hunt and one of the other guys. He looked like he was trying to focus on what they were saying, like he couldn’t understand why what he’d said was so bad.

  Later, Presley, James, and Hunt went back to Hunt’s place and Presley went to the guest room to change and lay down with Lulu while Hunt and James stayed in the living room. She had a feeling James needed the time with Hunt, without anyone else around and she wanted to give them privacy. James had opened up to her a little over the past weeks, but she knew he might talk to Hunt in ways he couldn’t with her.

  She could hear the soft sound of the men talking as she curled on her side with Lulu by her feet.

  “Sorry, Hammond’s an asshole when he gets drunk.” Hunt seemed to give the statement some thought, then laughed. “Hell, he’s an asshole all the damned time.”

  “It’s all right. Shit, it’s not like I don’t wonder what the hell happened that day.”

  “You don’t remember any of it?” Hunt asked.

  Presley could almost picture the way James would be rubbing the top of his head just then. She wasn’t sure he even knew he did it, but he did it anytime he was talking about the memories.

  “Bits and pieces are coming back to me.” There was a heavy pause, and then, “Do you ever think there was anything off that day? Anything that wasn’t like it should have been?”

  “I’ve thought through that day so many fucking times, trying to figure out what the hell went wrong, why it all went ass-pear-shaped so fucking fast.” Presley had gotten used to Hunt’s swearing. In fact, she noticed, James swore more around these guys, like they somehow gave him permission to do it in some unspoken way.

  James didn’t answer, but Hunt pressed him. “Why are you asking, Lawless? What do you remember?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m just losing my mind. Other times, I know there’s something I should be remembering about that day. Something I saw that didn’t fit. It’s like it’s right there, but I can’t hold onto it long enough to see what it is.”

  “Let it go, man. It wasn’t a day that’s worth seeing again, that’s for damned sure. We lost
too damned much that day.”

  James murmured a response, but Presley didn’t hear it.

  “I never understood why you didn’t get out when you escaped,” Hunt said, and Presley knew what he was referring to, although to be honest, she’d never known for sure if it was just a story or the truth.

  Laura had told her there were rumors James escaped his captors at one point, but rather than getting to help to get himself out of there, he stayed in the area and fed information out to the government factions the United States was allied with. The government factions that were trying to fight the violent guerrilla groups and cartels warring for control in the area.

  “I was going to run,” James said. His voice was low, and now, Presley strained to hear him. Before, she’d been almost trying not to eavesdrop, even though the effort was hopeless. The apartment was so small, there was no way not to hear. “I needed to get to Catalina and bring her out with me. I waited for the sun to go down so I could get to her and her grandmother and get them out of there.”

  “Catalina?” Hunt asked and Presley was surprised to realize James hadn’t told Hunt who she was.

  James ignored the question. “Silva killed her. Slaughtered her in front of her grandmother and told her it was payback. I ran, so he killed Catalina.”

  “You loved her?” Hunt asked.

  Again, James didn’t answer, but Presley knew the answer.

  Instead, he kept talking. “I stayed to kill them all. To kill all the fucking bastards that had hurt her.”

  And instead, he’d gotten captured again, eventually. It had taken time and he’d fed a lot of intel out to the government in the meantime. But in the end, he’d lost his freedom again because he’d stayed to avenge the woman he loved.

  Presley closed her eyes against the injustice of it. James Lawless deserved a break. He didn’t deserve the relentless hell life kept piling on top of him.