Their Sin City Showgirl (The American Soldier Collection 7)

“Not a lot. I think that’s better for your safety and for hers. I need her placed somewhere she won’t be noticed or recognized. Your town is filled with retired military. There have to be some more highly trained protectors available.”

“You’re seriously going to leave me with squat on this woman? No details on the case? Her involvement or professional position? Is she going to be a pain in the ass or something?”

Frank chuckled.

“J.J. is tough. She’s resourceful and she’s not too keen on this present idea of mine, however, keeping that pretty little head of hers intact is my number one priority. Sandman…she went through some heavy shit. She’s a bundle of nerves. What she went through was pretty damn traumatic. She knows that her life is in jeopardy, and she’s pissed off, too. I have nowhere else to turn, and I made a promise to myself, for Anthony’s sake, to keep watch over her.”

“She was involved with Anthony?” Sandman asked.

“They got engaged two weeks before he died.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Frank. I had no idea that Anthony was even seeing anyone.”

“They were keeping it under the radar. She was one of his trainees.”

“Oh, shit, that must have been interesting.”

“You have no idea. Anyway. I can have her out there within the week. I just need to secure a plan, so she’s not followed.”

“Let me help with that. I already have a place and some men in mind. I’ll call you on this line within the hour.”

“Great. Thank you, Sandman. I’ll keep you posted on what’s going on over here. Hey, if something happens to me—”

“Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“If something happens to me, please, keep J.J. safe. She busted this case wide open. She’s a hero, and she deserves to survive this.”

* * * *

Sandman disconnected the call and swiveled around in his chair. He disconnected the wire that blocked anyone from tapping the call. He lived for shit like this still. He felt badly for this situation and for Frank and this woman. He had to be sure to take the necessary precautions and then some. If this case involved the feds, a politician, and some dirty shit, then this woman could already be as good as dead. He had to help Frank, keep his friends safe, too, and hope that they would take on this situation.

Conway, Brook, Calder, and Lincoln were tough sons of bitches. They were into some crazy shit, like creating high-tech bombs that weren’t easily detected, and super crazy spy stuff. They did it for fun. Then, of course, were their real jobs as combat trainers, and Conway was the chief of police in town. Their land was out in the middle of nowhere, and totally secured with high-tech surveillance they created and fooled around with. They had enough guns and ammo to start and finish their own war. The more he thought about them, the more Sandman knew they were the best choice to keep this woman safe. He picked up the phone. Now if only he could convince them that their services were needed.

Chapter 2

J.J. sat straight-faced in the large black pickup truck, with tinted windows, alongside some big-ass agent and friend of Frank’s. He was l

ike six feet fucking four, had huge muscles, and looked experienced. She held her breath a few times, trying to stop her body from shaking. She had no control over it and it appeared to be getting worse. Of course she hadn’t confided in Frank about it. He would worry more than he already worried.

She picked up the file he’d given her. At least Frank had informed this guy that she was more than capable of handling herself and that she wanted details on these men who were to be protecting her. She hated looking at this situation as needing protection, but after her small little house was blown up and her bank accounts raided, she knew she needed help. The kind of help that only Frank seemed to be able to get her. She was grateful. After all, if Dooley or his thugs got a hold of her first, she would experience the type of death she had only nightmares about. Now that was something else plaguing her. The nightmares. Waking up in a cold sweat, running for her life, and being caught by the McCues, Prentice, or Dooley himself. Their attack on her body was so surreal, it made her sleepless, with her revolver tucked under her pillow, and others scattered around the room.

She hoped that Frank’s friend kept his promise about not informing these men of her professional status. Let them think she was weak and incapable. Then when they tried something, she would show them just how incapable she was.

She shook the thoughts from her head. Her new way of thinking was frightening her. She was combative and aggressive, even in thought. She was ready to fight, verbally or physically. This wasn’t her. Sure she was tough, but bitchy, combative? Never. Not unless provoked. But considering the circumstances, she was beyond provoked. She was scared shitless, she felt out of control, completely alone, and distrusting with a vengeance.

“We’ll be there in five minutes. I know their place is out there in the middle of nowhere, but they are very capable men. Their security is impeccable, and they know their shit. You’ll be safe with them,” Sandman stated.

“We’ll see,” she replied, and he looked her over and she pulled her sweater tighter against her chest. She wore high-collared shirts and sweaters to hide all the bruising. Dexter had done a number on her. She hadn’t even remembered most of the fight. Just that her life depended on getting away from him. Too bad the motherfucker hadn’t died from the stab wound.

That was another thing that really bothered her now. She didn’t like men staring at her body. She felt exposed, vulnerable, even though she hadn’t been raped. She supposed that it was from the way Dexter and Martin had touched her, forced her legs apart as they’d made her watch Tara play her role. Then of course Dexter fondled her breast as she let him in order to get free. Dooley did too. That piece of scum. She shivered from her thoughts. He wouldn’t get away with this. He couldn’t. He’d killed those women, and the McCues and Prentice had helped.

“Are you okay?” Sandman asked. She looked at him, wondering what he was talking about. Had she actually lost track of her thoughts? She realized the truck had stopped, and that she hadn’t even noticed she was so lost.

“Fine,” she said, holding the files to her chest, as she looked out the truck window. That’s when she saw the chief of police truck, and the uniformed man standing outside of it. He looked different from in the picture. Conway Lewis was big and mean looking, and he reminded her of Anthony. Her guard went up another notch, as if that were even possible at this point.

* * * *

“Holy shit. This is the woman in danger?” Brook Lewis asked Calder Murphy as they zoomed in on her as she stepped out of the truck. They were inside the house, tweaking their outside perimeter cameras. As Sandman pulled onto the main dirt road leading up to their property and home, they were all fully aware of the visitors coming. Having the surveillance cameras and the underwire security throughout their property, every dwelling including their house, made each of them feel secure. It helped to handle the paranoia they still had four years after retiring from the service. Each of them had their own way of dealing with their readaptation to society. Protecting innocent people from harm on a down-low basis helped to feed the need inside of them to protect and serve. Of course Conway lived to protect and serve, so being the chief of police kept him calm. He was typical of a chief with his hard expression, intimidating size, take-no-shit attitude, and he barely smiled. People feared him, and that kept the town and the surrounding areas safe.