Their Sin City Showgirl (The American Soldier Collection 7)

“Well, it’s how I wound up in a make out sessions with her,” Calder stated.

“She may not be military, but as law enforcement she protects under similar rules. She helps to enforce the laws and keep people safe. I respect that. I consider her one of us, and we will find out her story. We need to. It can help us to protect her and it can help her to start healing,” Conway added.

“I bet she looks fucking hot in a uniform,” Brook stated.

“Hell, yeah, and even better out of it,” Lincoln said.

“So we agree to take our time, get to know her, and let the cards fall?” Conway asked.

They all agreed.

“She’ll come around. We’ll find out who did this to her and we’ll help put him away,” Lincoln said.

“Six feet under sounds better to me,” Calder added and they all agreed.

Chapter 5

J.J. was working out in the gym. She had already done the elliptical and now was moving around the punching bag. Lincoln and Calder were with her, as per their rules of her going nowhere without at least one of them.

No one mentioned last night, the kiss, or even asked her any questions at the dinner table. She had been shocked. It seemed that the tension was still high, but there was an added feel of anticipation. It had her walking on eggshells, but not the men. Long after she went to bed, the four of them remained up talking. Their mumbled voices eventually put her to sleep, as she thought about Calder and their little make out session.

Calder had the darkest gray eyes she had ever seen. But after they had kissed, the color seemed to brighten. She didn’t know if she’d imagined it, but it was like he let his guard down for just a moment. Perhaps she was just desperate to feel like she wasn’t so alone in her need to keep a distance and isolate herself. The four men, Calder, Lincoln, Brook, and Conway had a look in their eyes that was so similar it kind of bugged her out. They weren’t brothers as far as she knew. At least in the biological sense or through blood, but there was a definite bond there.

Recalling Anthony and his good friends from his troop, they shared a lot, and had been there for her when he died, but they had a lot of their own issues, and J.J. was always trying to prove herself and come across so independent and capable. Now suddenly, she was feeling needy.

She didn’t like this feeling. She didn’t want to be weak or unable to stand on her own. But the anxiety and paranoia was getting worse. Any sound, any indication of a possible attack, set her off. Maybe it was because she had been on edge for over a month now. Maybe surviving multiple attacks, and witnessing a rape and murder, had placed her into this emotional and psychological turmoil? Post-traumatic stress did this kind of stuff to people. But she was a cop, a trained investigator, who’d gone through rigorous training and psychological evaluations before being accepted into the Nevada State Police investigation unit. Perhaps the last four years of her life had finally caught up with her?

Thinking back to when she was with Calder, she remembered feeling safe. If she was at all honest with herself, she felt safe around all of them, even now, in the gym. But at night, alone in bed, she was alert, on edge, and ready to pull her gun from under her pillow and take an attacker down, even if it was the last thing she did.

At some point she had dozed off, but soon awoke in a cold sweat, shaking like a leaf. She knew it was getting worse. But she didn’t know what to do about it. She debated asking one of the guys. They had been through war, had experienced intense situations, and perhaps even faced death head-on as Special Forces, and maybe they could help? As she thought about it more, she denied herself the weakness of asking for help from them. This wasn’t that bad. A touch of post-traumatic stress syndrome along with fear of being caught, tortured, and killed would probably make anyone uptight and jittery.

But the visions in her nightmares, and they were definitely nightmares, were so vivid and real. She felt each strike to her flesh, each cut of the blade, and the feel of the breath leaving her body as Dexter choked her.

She suddenly felt the tap to her arm, and so deep in morbid, fearful thought, she reacted. Like a trained fighter, she ducked and then struck.

The moment her gloved hand hit Brook in the stomach, she gasped and then turned away from him.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, Brook. I’m so sorry.”

Someone placed their hands on her shoulders and she turned out of the hold. It was Lincoln, and now Brook joined him next to her.

“Hey, no apology necessary. I snuck up on you, I guess,” he said, eyeing her over and appearing as if he wanted to say more.

“I didn’t even think. I just…I’m sorry,” she said, and looked away from him.

Shit, they’re going to think I’m violent and that I don’t want them touching me. Well, I shouldn’t want them touching me.

“We called your name, but you didn’t hear us. You were in a dead stare at the punching bag,” Brook stated.

“No, I wasn’t. I was hitting it. I was focused on what I was doing,” she said. Lincoln looked at Brook and then back at her.

“What? I said I was sorry. What do you want me to do?” she snapped at Brook, and then started to walk away. Brook grabbed her hand to stop her. She stopped and looked up at him.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked, very seriously.

She gave a fake chuckle. “Hitting the bag. That’s what I was doing.” She tried to pull her hand free but now Lincoln placed his hand on her waist.

“Baby, you were staring into outer space, and then you looked so frightened, and you were shaking.” She pulled away from them.