Shamrock: A Linear Tactical Romantic Suspense Standalone

by Janie Crouch

  Copyright © 2018 by Janie Crouch

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Deranged Doctor Design.

  A Calamity Jane Publishing Book

  SHAMROCK: LINEAR TACTICAL

  This book is dedicated to my parents…

  For the love you’ve provided so many of your “children”.

  I may have been the first, but I certainly was not the last.

  •

  “There was a time I asked my father for a dollar

  And he gave it a ten dollar raise.

  When I needed my mother and I called her,

  She stayed with me for days”

  Shamrock

  Every mission has a price.

  He never meant for her to pay it.

  Aiden has never left anyone behind. Not a comrade and certainly not an innocent. But when an undercover mission goes wrong, he's forced to abandon a woman trapped in a human trafficking ring.

  Violet learned brutally that no one is promised a happy ending. She knows Aiden blames himself for his part, but she refuses to let her abduction define the rest of her life.

  She won’t be a victim again. And she’s going after what she wants: Aiden.

  Watching Violet transform herself into a fierce warrior is the sexiest thing Aiden has ever seen. The honorable plan would be to stay away from her—let her heal and grow without the shadow of his mistakes clouding her progress—even though every instinct tells him to claim her for his own.

  But when they discover the danger they thought they’d left behind is closer than ever, they’ll have to face their deepest fears and fight side-by-side in order to survive.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Janie Crouch

  Chapter 1

  Violet Collingwood had thought the tiny, windowless room where her kidnappers had held her for the past three days was the worst place she could possibly be.

  She’d been so very wrong.

  In that room, there’d been little light and just a hole in the ground for a toilet. The only way she’d known how much time had passed was by the arrival of meals twice a day: a couple of protein bars and some water.

  Sitting in the dark by herself for hours, not knowing if she was going to live or die, had given her a lot of time to reflect on how she’d gotten there. What she could’ve done. Should’ve done.

  Two men had grabbed her as she’d walked from her evening class to the parking area across campus. She’d almost been to her car in the garage when they’d pulled up.

  She should’ve been more aware. Her brother, Gabe, was always telling her she needed to be more aware of what was going on around her. She’d always thought he was just paranoid, that his time as a Navy SEAL had made him hyperaware of danger.

  But being hyperaware was better than being kidnapped and held in a dark, airless room somewhere.

  Were they holding her for ransom, hoping her brother would pay money for her return since he was CEO of Collingwood Technology? Maybe they didn’t know that Gabe put almost every dollar they had back into the company. He didn’t have a lot of liquid assets.

  He would do anything he could to get her back, but if they were asking for millions of dollars . . . Gabe didn’t have that sort of money. At least, not if they expected him to be able to get to it quickly.

  She’d kept her ear to the door—literally—since being shoved in the room, sometimes able to catch the sound of conversation. When it was quiet, she’d nearly dislocated her shoulder trying to break through the door, and she’d bloodied her fingertips trying to feel for any cracks in the wall that would suggest some sort of structural weakness.

  She was putting those chemical engineering classes she’d been taking for the past three years to a use she had never expected. The effort kept her from giving in to terror and despondency.

  There was nothing more in the world she wanted than to get out of that dark room.

  Or so she’d thought.

  But that was before they’d stripped her naked and put her in a cage. Now she’d give anything to be back in that dark room. At least there, no one had paid attention to her.

  There had been some big argument outside the door: men yelling at each other. She’d strained to pick out any words. A Mr. Stellman was mentioned repeatedly, but she had no idea who that was. Death, kill, and money were also mentioned, as well as every variation she’d ever heard of the f word.

  Nothing at all about that screaming match had made her feel any better, even when she’d heard a door slam.

  The door to her room had opened a few moments later. The light streaming in had momentarily blinded her, causing her to fall hard to the ground as she tried to scurry backward.

  A man, tall and beefy, with blond hair that fell over one eye, was on her in just a few steps despite her attempt to get away. He reached down and grabbed her hair in his fist, dragging her back to a standing position.

  “Maybe we’re not allowed to taste you for ourselves, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make us some money.” His voice was breathy, excited.

  “Wh-what?” she whispered.

  “Take off your clothes. It’s time for you to earn your keep around here like everyone else.”

  Violet didn’t know what he was talking about, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to take off her clothes.

  The door was wide open for the first time in days, so she made a run for it. She threw all her weight at the guy, who lost his grip on her. But she was barely halfway to the door before he tackled her to the ground.

  “I don’t think so.” His breath was hot in her ear as he laughed. Violet squirmed to try to get away again. His hips thrust up against her. He was definitely turned on.

  She stopped moving and just lay flat on the floor. She didn’t want to rub against him any more than she had to.

  “Aw, come on, don’t stop all your wiggling on my account.” His hand reached between them and grabbed her buttocks, squeezing and kneading roughly. Violet whimpered before swallowing the sound. She didn’t want to show him any weakness.

  But tears leaked out of her eyes as he ground himself against her and yanked her head up by her hair so he could slide his other hand around to grope her breasts as brutally as he had her ass. She’d have bruises on her flesh, courtesy of his roughness and her pale skin.

  Vomit pooled in her gut as he continued to dry hump her, his much bigger body pinning her lower half down, his grip on her hair keeping her head and torso pulled upright at an unnatural angle.

  Violet had never known such helplessness in her entire life. She’d been terrified when the tw
o guys had grabbed her in the parking lot, but even that had been a shocked, detached kind of fear.

  This was so much more impossible to bear. The grunting of the man on top of her as he thrust and rubbed against her over and over. The pain in her breasts as he pinched them.

  She gagged when he thrust his tongue in her ear, his loud breathing all she could hear.

  If I put a raspberry pastry cream with a touch of lemon zest in the puits d’amour rather than jam, it would add the depth of flavor I’ve been missing.

  She grabbed on to the thought with every bit of mental energy she had, allowing it to force everything else away.

  Lemon zest. How much? I don’t want it to overpower the rest of the French pastry.

  The zest from one lemon, plus the juice, would really give it the zing it’s been missing.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  An icy voice from the doorway jolted her back into the present. For a second, Violet’s dazed mind thought that the man was talking to her.

  “Stellman said hands off, Randy,” the guy from the door continued. “Do you know what he’s going to do to you if he finds out you fucked her?”

  Randy let go of her hair and threw her head down. It crashed against the floor with a thud that caused everything to blur for a moment. She concentrated on breathing, on dragging enough air into her lungs to keep from hyperventilating. At least her neck wasn’t being held at that impossible angle anymore.

  “I’m not fucking her, Dillon, for God’s sake. I’m just getting to know her a little better.” Randy used both hands to squeeze her buttocks in a punishing grip for a few more seconds before getting off her.

  Violet just lay with her cheek on the floor, watching Dillon in the doorway, afraid to move or do anything that would draw attention back to her. Distantly, she could feel a tear leak out the corner of her eye and run across the bridge of her nose before dropping. Dillon just stood in the door, arms crossed, watching her with calculating eyes.

  “Whatever,” he finally said, turning from the door. “If we’re taking her to The Barn, get her ready. We’re late, and the other girls are already in the truck.”

  Randy grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. “Shall we try this again? Take off your clothes.”

  She couldn’t do it. She tried, even brought her fingers to the buttons of her blouse, but she couldn’t get them to work.

  Randy’s fist crashed into her stomach.

  The shock hit her first as she struggled to drag in any oxygen. Then the pain exploded through her body. Violet doubled over, coughing, sure she was about to die.

  Randy’s hand was in her hair once more, snatching her upright. “I won’t hit you in the face because Stellman doesn’t want you hurt for whatever reason. But believe me, there are lots of ways I can bruise you without leaving any obvious marks. Now take your damn clothes off,” he seethed.

  This time, her fingers worked. Shaking, but they worked. Randy watched it all, sneering the whole time. She balled up her clothes and put them on the floor. There wasn’t anywhere else to put them.

  Randy just kept looking at her, licking his lips. Then he grinned. “Natural redhead.”

  Violet was pretty sure she was going to vomit. She forced herself not to cower or give him the satisfaction of covering herself with her hands.

  She just wanted to go home to her tiny apartment in Idaho Falls. She’d even go live with Gabe. Her brother was completely overbearing and didn’t understand her at all, but at least she wouldn’t be here.

  Randy grabbed a small box he’d dropped on the floor and tossed it to her. Cleaning wipes. “Here. You can clean yourself up, or I can do it for you.”

  She immediately took out the cold wipes and began to drag them across her body. She definitely didn’t want Randy doing it.

  Being clean again after three days of no shower or running water felt wonderful. But she would’ve stayed filthy for the rest of her life if it meant stopping whatever plans Randy had for her tonight.

  When she was done, he came and stood right in front of her. For one horrified moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

  She couldn’t bear that. She didn’t know why that particular thought seemed so repugnant to her when five minutes ago she’d thought Randy was going to rape her. But she could not stand it if he kissed her.

  But instead he slipped some sort of heavy necklace around her neck, so short it was almost a choker. It had some sort of locket in the center.

  “Transmitting device. I will be able to hear every single thing you say tonight. And if that’s something I don’t like, even so much as your name, you can bet I’ll pay Dillon off, and I’ll make you wish you were dead a hundred different ways before I finally kill you.”

  He smiled—almost friendly—and opened a piece of mint gum before applying pressure to her jaw so she was forced to open and he could pop it in.

  “Got to have fresh breath for your customers.”

  As she began to chew, spearmint flavor flooding her mouth, her body began to shake. She clutched her arms around herself, trying to hold back the tremors. It was August, not cold enough for her teeth to be chattering. She clenched down on the gum.

  “Let’s go!” Dillon roared from outside the door.

  Randy grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, out the door. She looked around to try to get her bearings, to see if she could figure out where she was. A house somewhere, obviously, from all the rooms and the furniture, but she had no idea where.

  Randy dragged her through another door into a garage. A small moving truck was parked inside, the back door rolled open.

  Inside, half a dozen women in various states of undress sat in a line, staring blankly at her and Randy.

  On the other side of the truck was a large cage—actually a crate used for training dogs. Randy pulled open the door and threw Violet inside. It was big enough for her to sit up in, but she couldn’t stretch out her legs. She fought down the panic coursing through her system.

  “You keep the hell quiet, or this will be your permanent place of residence.” Randy shut the cage and padlocked it.

  He stepped back and pulled the rolling door of the truck down, blowing her a kiss right before his face disappeared from view.

  And then there was nothing but the sound of her own quiet sobs as she wished she were back in the dark room she’d so desperately wanted to get out of.

  Chapter 2

  Aiden Teague had infiltrated some of the worst hellholes on the planet. During his time as an Army Green Beret, his main job had been to scout ahead of his team for information and to make contacts.

  Over the course of those years, he’d had to befriend some pretty questionable people in order to make sure his team’s mission was completed successfully. It was a good use of his talents. He had a natural affinity for languages, an ingrained understanding of cultural nuances, and the sort of presence people just seemed to respond to. Or at least, bad guys responded to.

  He’d never expected to be using these skills again after he’d gotten out of the army a little over four years ago.

  He’d thought his infiltration days were behind him. Somehow, sitting in a private club everyone called The Barn, Aiden didn’t think he would be using any of the five other languages he spoke besides English. Although a crash course in hipster criminal slang would probably help him a great deal right now.

  He’d been undercover for just over three weeks, pretending to be a dirtier version of himself—someone who owned a weapons and survival training facility but did some smuggling on the side. He was here, like everyone else, because he was interested in buying information about weaknesses in the US air defense system. A man named Gordon Cline, a government employee who obviously didn’t mind selling out his country for money, had been discovered putting together the sale of this highly classified information.

  Cline wasn’t the problem. He was low-level and could be taken out of play at any time. There was a much bigger fish Aiden
had been sent to reel in, somebody named Stellman. Nobody knew who he was or what he looked like, and those who found out tended to end up dead.

  Aiden didn’t normally do undercover work. He now worked at Linear Tactical, the survival, self-defense, and weapons training facility he and some of his army brothers had opened four years ago. But when his former commanding officer had come asking for help a month ago, Aiden had agreed.

  They’d all thought it would go much more quickly. But Cline, bless his traitorous fucking heart, had been drawing out the sale of the information for as long as possible. He was courting as many criminals as he could in order to auction the information off to whoever was willing to pay the most.

  And Cline loved strip clubs. That’s how Aiden had found himself at the fifteenth one in as many days.

  He was damn tired of seeing naked women. Not something he ever thought he’d find himself thinking. But evidently, he was the only one, because this private party was packed. Some were people Aiden had seen before in the past couple of weeks, some strangers.

  Still no sign or mention of Stellman.

  This building, neither a club nor a barn, was privately owned and situated in the far outskirts of Reddington City. Aiden had lived in Wyoming for more than four years and had never known this place existed. The building was basically a series of smaller rooms all surrounding a main meeting area. There were two dancers currently up on the stage in the main room. Unlike regulated strip clubs, where dancers always had at least a little bit of clothing on, no matter how sheer, the women dancing here were completely naked.