Moonshine Task Force Collection Volume Two

By Laramie Briscoe

Meet the series that's sweeter than tea and hotter than an Alabama summer day!

In the second volume of this collection of hot cops, known as the Moonshine Task Force you'll get a second-chance romance, a single-dad finding love, and a son growing into a man.

Ace - A second-chance romance featuring a hot cop not caring about a ring on Violet's finger. Rescuing her becomes his number one priority when her life is turned upside down.

Menace - Teacher Karina is shocked when her sexy one-night stand turns out to be the single dad of one of her students. But Menace is determined to show her just how hot their connection can get.

Cruise - The kid is now a man and he's got something to prove. The newest member of the MTF is doing his best to make his dad proud. Especially when all hell breaks loose in their small-town and he rises to the occasion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laramie Briscoe
• Release date: Apr 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201641856

Book preview

Summary

Anthony Ace Bailey

I’m not a rules kinda guy.

Department Policy? Kinda sucks.

Playing it safe? Not my thing.

Married? Not a deal breaker when I know she’s unhappy, scared, and not with the right man.

I’m one of those guys – a sniper in the military, a little bit of an adrenaline junkie, and a member for the Moonshine Task Force. I’ve lived through some shit.

My gut has never failed me. It’s my sixth sense. Warning me of a gunshot coming my way, of a traffic stop being potentially deadly, or the tingling in the back of neck when I go to sleep telling me I’ll be woken up by a call in the middle of the night. My gut has always kept me honest and safe.

Like the day I walked into The Café and saw the new waitress. There was a ring on her left hand, but I didn’t care. One look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. Her marriage wasn’t one made of love and respect. It was one made of fear and doubt.

It’s why I ignored that ring, why I arrested her husband, and the reason I’m willing to take my time. Patience is a virtue, and with this woman, I have it in spades.

Violet Miller

Meeting Anthony Bailey changed my life. He did things that no one else has ever done for me.

Feeling safe? Never happened before.

Feeling wanted? It’s been years.

Being independent? I’m learning.

It’s foreign, not having someone question my every move, being able to eat what I want for dinner, and sitting out on my front porch talking to Anthony every night while we share a couple beers.

I try to tell myself he’s just being nice, that he’s doing his job and working within the community. The problem? The night he takes the kiss we both want, everything changes, and I can no longer deny what I feel. But it doesn’t stop me from trying, and I learn quickly that Ace knows me better than anyone else ever has – including myself.

All I can do is hang on as he takes me on the scariest journey of my life. The one that bends us until we almost break and ends with a happily ever after I never thought I would get.

I

Recovery

Chapter 1

Violet

"Mrs. Miller, is there someone who can come get you?"

The voice speaking to me is careful. Almost as if she’s scared to use her normal tone. Everyone who’s walked through the door since I got here, has treated me as if I’m about to break. Truthfully, I think I am.

My eyes travel along my blanket covered legs, past the IV in my arm, over the identification bracelet on my wrist, and then up to the face of the nurse asking me the question. She’s been the one taking care of me for the last few days. Everyday she’s looked at me with pity in her eyes, and I can’t say that I’m not looking forward to getting away from her knowing gaze. All I want right now is to go home, lick my wounds, and try to gather the pieces of my tattered pride. Try to make a life out of the smoldering wreckage left behind after the beating. I realize with great clarity my life has now been split into two parts – before the beating and after the beating.

The beeping of the monitors have been comforting while I’ve laid here; a part of me has focused on their beeping, proving I’m alive. They were the first indication that I’d made it when I came out of the darkness that’d encompassed me after Brent had attacked me.

You’re going to be released as soon as the paperwork is signed, and you’ll need someone to drive you home, honey. With the amount of pain medication you’ve been given, you can’t drive yourself.

I nod to show my understanding, strengthen my reserves, and manage to push out the word cab on a whisper. Pain radiates through my jaw with that one little word, and I wonder how I’m going to survive the next couple of days – forget the next few weeks, months, or even years.

The disapproval is in her eyes, but honestly there’s nothing else I can do. They took my husband to jail for doing this to me, and I’m not willing to involve any of the friends I’ve made since I came to Laurel Springs in this mess. She doesn’t want to call a cab, but I have no choice. Story of my damn life.

She opens her mouth to speak to me again, when I hear a voice at the doorway of my room. Since the first day I heard it - the deep timbre, the accent - it’s always been the voice of an angel. The one thing I could cling to in the darkness of the life I was living.

I’ll be taking her home.

Surprise grips my stomach, but it really shouldn’t. Anthony Ace Bailey has been around since the first day I hit town. From the moment he walked into The Café, he’s had my attention, and I know I’ve had his. Every day he’s always had a gorgeous smile for me, a kind word, and a little bit of hope that life will change. Never did I expect the life-changing moment would be me getting the holy hell beat out of me and him arresting my husband.

While I’ve been here in the hospital, I know he’s visited me – I’ve felt him, but it’s always been when I was deeply sedated, or just too weary to pry my eyes open. A couple of times I even had dreams about him. What would happen if I’d let him sweep me away like he’d joked about once or twice. But not once when he came did I acknowledge his presence. Luckily he doesn’t seem to have taken offense to it.

Today? I gobble up the sight of him, and my heart pounds as I see him standing there, a bag in his hand. He wears a bruise across his nose and slightly under his eyes. My memory vaguely unlocks a moment during the struggle, where I heard Anthony cry out. Brent must have gotten him with an elbow as they fought over control of my body, which at the moment had been flung around like a ragdoll. I flex my fingers against the blanket covering my body. I want to reach out, grab his hand, feel the warmth of his touch. Looking back down at the bag he’s carrying, I notice it’s from a department store in the mall that I like. Leighton and I have gone shopping there for her, but I’ve never bought myself anything, because Brent kept such a tight rein on the finances. He lifts the bag up. Brought you some new clothes.

The clothes I’d been wearing at The Café had been smeared with blood and cut off of me. Since they were my regular work clothes, chances are they smelled like grease too. No way I’d be wearing them home. I’m not even sure I can handle that smell anymore. I feel as if the first time the stench hits me, I might be sent back to that day when I was minding my own business, my head down and unaware. Shaking my head, I go back to thinking about the clothes. Those are safer, and there’s no emotional attachment in them. Honestly, I’d figured they’d give me some scrubs, at least that’s what I’ve seen on TV shows.

Please let me take you home, make sure you’re good. You’ve been through hell, Vi, and you need someone to take care of you. Doesn’t make you weak. He winks as he enters the room and has a seat on the chair. He looks like he always does, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But as his green eyes rake over my body, I get the feeling he does have a care, and that care is me.

You realize it’ll be up to her, if she goes home with you. The nurse is oddly protective of me. It’s obvious she’s not going to let me go if I don’t want to go. I have a feeling if I can’t figure out how to get home, she’ll drive me herself; rules be damned.

I respect your protectiveness of her, but I’m a cop, I’ll keep her safe. There’s absolutely no pressure. If she doesn’t want me, I’ll call our friend, Leighton to come get her, he turns back to me, an expression on his face indicating not to argue with him. It’s not a big deal for any of us, but I’ll be damned if you take a cab home after the ordeal you’ve been through. Not when you’ve got people who care about you.

I weigh my options. I don’t want to bother Leighton, but I don’t want to be a burden on Anthony either. That’s my damage, no one else’s. I realize quickly they’re waiting for me to respond.

Go with you, I whisper out, letting my jaw open as much as I can. The pain is still excruciating, and I’m mentally calculating how long it is until they’ll let me have another pain pill.

The pleased smile on his face hits me in the gut. He’s genuinely happy to help me, and I can honestly say a few things about this man. He’s my hero, a savior, I really don’t think he set out to be. In all the time I’ve been dealing with my husband and his fists, no one’s ever saved me, they’ve never made me feel safe, and none have ever made me wonder what it would be like to have a different man in my life.

Anthony Bailey, in the small amount of time I’ve known him, has saved me, made me feel safe, and kept me awake at night wondering what it would be like to be his.

And honestly – after the way I’ve been treated – I can’t even feel guilty about it.

"C’mon honey, let me help you put these leggings on." The nice nurse takes them out of the bag, and holds them open for me.

Wish I could do it myself. Tears are pooled behind my eyes. This is a new kind of humiliation, one I’d never imagined myself having to deal with. I’m sure the embarrassment is written across my face.

My sister had a husband like yours and was killed a few years ago. She smiles sadly. She didn’t get a chance to be embarrassed. I would give years of my life to be able to help her put her leggings on if it meant she were still here.

I can’t meet her gaze as I pull them up over my stomach and slowly pull the shirt over my head. Lucky isn’t something I would have described myself as until I listened to this woman’s story. Sorry for you. I lick my dry, cracked lips.

It’s why I take care of the domestic violence victims. The next weeks, months, and years will be hard on you, Violet. You might remember things that give you pause, have nightmares, and wonder where you go from here. Just remember you’re alive, you’ve got friends, you’ve got a man who seems to care about you, and you’re strong enough to come out on the other side of this.

I know. My voice is quiet as I let some of the tears fall.

Now, get out of here and take care of yourself.

As I have a seat in the wheelchair so that I can exit the hospital, I can’t help but wonder where exactly life is going to take me. I can’t say I’m excited at this moment, but I’m resigned, and that’s better than I have been.

Ace

She’s not speaking, and while I know her jaw was this close to being wired shut, it’s still worrying me. I’m not sure if the silence is because of the physical or the emotional pain she’s been through. Being stuck in your head, after a situation like what’s she’s been through is the most dangerous detriment to her recovery.

The clothes fit okay? I question as I turn my truck onto the main road.

A noise in her throat is the only answer I get, but I can tell it’s affirmative. Hell, anyone with two eyes can see that they fit, but I still feel the need to ask her, to make sure I haven’t overstepped my boundaries. Her eyes roam the passing scenery as I drive away from the hospital and toward the area we both live in. I’m undecided about where I want to take her. She wants to be alone, that much is obvious from the way she’s tucked into herself on her side of the truck, not looking at me, not paying attention to what I’m doing, or even really acknowledging my presence. However, the public servant, the man who cares for her, and the person who has a little bit of first-aid training thanks to the military wants to keep her as close as possible. When I come to the intersection that will lead to either my duplex or the trailer she lives in, I come to a stop and don’t indicate which way I’m going to go.

It’s up to you, Violet. Which way am I going?

I wait for her to answer.

Why do you have a truck now? You used to have a sports car.

The question catches me off-guard, as well as the change of subject. She paid attention to me, and I never even knew it. I have a boat, I got sick of asking others to help me transport it, and after Tank’s wreck, I decided to slow down. I don’t do a lot of the crazy stuff I used to. I realized with great clarity you have one life, and once it’s gone, it’s gone. Now, which way am I going? You coming home with me, or am I taking you to your place?

Her head whips around to me. Struggling, she pushes out. What? Take me home.

I’d rather take you to my home, I argue, softly. Maybe this was something I should have discussed with her before we’d gotten into the truck. You don’t need to be by yourself. What if you need help during the night? What if something frightens you?

He’s in jail. She puts her hands between her legs, squeezing them between her thighs. Almost as if she’s trying to ground herself in what must be a twinge of pain.

It doesn’t escape me that she’s gotten right to the heart of the matter. I didn’t mention him, didn’t say she might be frightened of him. But something tells me she’s lived her whole life trying to figure out how much to tell people and how much to keep to herself.

Doesn’t mean you’re not going to need help. You’ve been through a lot. I try to reason with her. Getting scared will be normal. You’ve been through a trauma, lived through something a lot of people have never had to live through. Most don’t ever think about it. There’s nothing wrong if you do get scared.

Her dark eyes cut over to mine, no longer warm and thankful that I came to get her. Now the brown pools are hard, tough, and unrelenting. I don’t ever get scared, Anthony, she stops, and by the way she grabs her jaw, a pain must shoot through the bone. Angry tears threaten to spill over her lids, as she fights to open her mouth again. I wish we could communicate easier, but she keeps the bravado up as she pushes out the final words. It’s never done me any good to get scared.

Which I know is a lie, but if she needs to believe this about herself, I’ll let her. Encourage her, even. Show her that I trust her. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared for her. And not only physically, but emotionally too. There’s many pieces that will reveal themselves as she begins the recovery process to put herself back together again.

I want to be there for her, to be the person she turns to when she’s dealing with things that might break the façade she’s maintaining. There will be a chance for me, I’m optimistic about it, but I know I can’t pressure her. Letting her come to me or meeting in the middle will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s a must in this situation.

Many would ask me what makes her different. Truth is I can’t put my finger on any one thing. It’s a combination of everything about her. Her stoic strength, the vulnerability that lingers just below the surface, the passion I’ve seen spark in her eyes once or twice. When Violet unleashes all of this, and allows the world to see what she’s hiding under the exterior, everyone will realize exactly why I want this woman.

One thing I do know is the decision is hers, and if I try to talk her out of it or assert any kind of authority over her, I’ll be met with rebellion. I’m better than her husband, and I have to prove to her I am. Taking care of her won’t be easy, but I’ll do it in a way that’s non-threatening to her. Against my better judgement, I turn the truck in the direction to her trailer.

Then home is where you’ll go.

Chapter 2

Violet

Alone.

It’s an emotion I’ve felt for years, but it’s never consumed me until this moment. Fact is, even when I’ve felt alone in this home, I’ve been here with Brent, and the loneliness was figurative, not literal.

This afternoon it’s literal. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence. He’s not sitting in his favorite recliner, watching some game on TV, drinking a beer, and smugly asking me when lunch will be served. I don’t have to stand at the stove with my back to him, every retort running through my head to the foulness he speaks. My back doesn’t have to stiffen when I hear him get up and feel him come behind me. I don’t have to cringe as he touches me, pretend to enjoy the way his hands caress my body. Never again will I have to zone out as he finds pleasure in an act I haven’t found pleasurable for years.

But the silence - the being alone –gets to me.

Truly, I can’t remember the last time I was alone in this home physically. Brent never allowed me to be here by myself. The only time I got a reprieve was when I was at work. Somehow he made his work schedule fit mine. Sneaking away to night classes was hard and probably why I only managed it for a few weeks before he found out. Maybe he thought that if I was left to myself, I’d pack my shit and hit the road. It would have been the smart thing to do, but I’d never been strong enough to do it. The huge task of starting over always exhausted me, always frightened me more than staying with him did. I’m weak, a really fucking weak person. Maybe that’s why I’m so attracted to Anthony; he seems to have zero fear and he seems strong enough to do anything.

My eyes take in the threadbare carpet, the yellowing of the walls. Even though I cleaned them every week, he continued to smoke inside, so they were never clean enough. I can still smell the stale cigarettes. God, I hated that he smoked, begged him to give it up because it gave me headaches. His response? He needed something to tackle the stress I gave him. Often I wondered if he were on other things. Money disappeared pretty regularly from our account, and it wasn’t unusual for the threatening notice of our electricity being shut off to be hung on the front door. One more thing I guess I’ll never know. I don’t plan on ever speaking to him again to ask.

Running my hand along the faded countertop, noticing the scars in the cheap laminate that have been there since we moved in, I tap my fingernails, listening to the sound echo in the emptiness of the space. No pictures on those yellowed walls to absorb the sound. No cute little rug in front of the sink to off-set the cold vinyl of the floor in the winter. The fridge kicks on, as does the air conditioner, on this hot day. I close my eyes against the sounds, and immediately I’m taken back to that day.

I hear the bell ring that hangs over the door and situate myself on the table. I should really lift my head up and wait on this customer. As always, I need the tips more than Leighton does. Before I can lift my head, I hear Leighton’s voice screaming at me.

Look out! she yells, just as I get myself out of the fog I’m in.

When I lift up, it happens in slow motion. His hand balls into a fist and cold-cocks me across the face. The force causes me to grunt, and I can taste the blood as my head whips around and I fall immediately to the floor.

You dumb bitch! His voice sounds like it’s coming from a million miles away as it reverberates through my head. I scream when he reaches down and grabs me by the hair, yanking me up. Thinking you can go behind my back, take those classes you’re always harping about. You think you’re so much goddamn smarter than I am.

Lifting my arms up, I try to grab at his fingers, desperate to get him to let go of the hair he holds in a vice-like grip. Desperate to save myself from whatever this ends up being. I have no illusions, he’s done this before, and I was stupid to think I could take these classes without him finding out. His fingers loosen, and he allows me to drop a few inches until my feet touch the ground. I reach out to the table, to try and steady myself, and when I do he pushes my head forward, causing it to hit the table. Stars bounce around my skull and I can almost swear I can hear birds chirping. All of a sudden I’m ripped from his clutches and pulled over to where Leighton sits. She’s speaking softly to me, and I get a glimpse of Ace approaching Brent, gun drawn. It’s then that I start to go in and out of conscious.

Inhaling air, I fight to get it into my tight lungs, I try to calm myself down, try to prevent the panic attack that’s threatening to take hold of not only my body, but also my mind. Looking around the trailer, I want something to ground me, but all I can see are reminders of Brent everywhere. There’s the paper he insists on reading every morning. His three pairs of work boots, when I’m only allowed to have one pair of shoes for my job. The side table sitting next to his recliner, so he never had to reach too far for anything. It’s painfully obvious how easy his life was made, while mine didn’t matter.

Painfully reaching up into the cabinet, I angrily grab a trash bag and open it up. Ignoring the searing heat in my ribs and general soreness of my body, I eradicate every piece of evidence that Brent Miller lived here with me. Struggling, I open the front door, throwing the bags out.

As fast as I’m able to, I run out and stumble down the porch. Trying to get breath between my lips that can barely open. Putting my head in my hands and threading my hair through my fingers, I pull slightly, letting the pinch of pain bring me back to the present. It reminds me that I’m here, I’m alive, and I’ve made it through an ordeal I wasn’t sure I would.

Get your shit together, Violet. I let the tears come to my eyes, taking in my situation for the first time.

My eyes roam the trailer that’s been our home since we came here. I see the rusted roof, the fading chipped paint, the porch that’s a few strong gusts from tipping over. My car is a car; it’s a few years old, but well-maintained, not something I’m ashamed of other people seeing. My home? I’m devastated and embarrassed that Anthony brought me here, that he saw what I’ve been living in. Even though the inside is impeccably clean, the outside looks like a den for a meth operation. I want something better. I always have, but for once in my life, I’m going to make it happen.

Brent’s voice in my head taunts me. How ya gonna do that, Violet? You’re a waitress who’s borrowed money to go to school. How in the hell will you make all your bills and still be able to eat? You need me. I’m the only thing keeping you off the street.

For the first time, l let the rage go, I don’t push it back and pretend I’m fine. A loud scream sounds from my throat. A purge of all the bullshit I’ve put up with over the years. I let the anger flow through. Not only the anger for what’s been done to me on this particular occasion, but what’s been happening for years. It’s a heat that takes hold, washes over me, and makes me curl my hands into fists. He’s beaten me down too long. A part of my personality I didn’t realize was there is pushing itself to the surface. I feel strong, and I feel like I could kill Brent if he were standing directly in front of me. Shut the fuck up, I tell that voice of reason. You’ve held me back for far too long. I’m going to heal, and then I’m going to make a plan.

With the declaration said aloud, I go back into the trailer, unearthing the used laptop I had Leighton buy me. It had been hard to keep it hidden, but worth it when I went grocery shopping or to run a few errands to get him things he needed. Those little reprieves from my life allowed me to do school work, to attend the classes, and to hope for something better. They showed me what could happen if I ever got out from under his thumb.

In those classes, there were truly no right or wrong answers. There were discussions and respect from both sides, even if we didn’t always totally agree. At the library, there were people to help. They never made me feel stupid, and they’d always point me in the right direction. A true north, if you will, allowing me to find my way out of whatever situation I couldn’t find the answer to.

Maybe that is the answer. This laptop, Anthony, this whole situation – it’s my wakeup call to be a better person. It’s my defining moment to learn to believe in myself. My one shot that I don’t want to blow. This right here is the true north I’ve been searching for this whole time.

My resolve lasts until I go to bed that night in the once again quiet home. I’ve done all my homework that I missed while I was in the hospital, and I’ve worked ahead for the week. Turning over onto my side, I grimace when a stab of pain shoots through my ribs. The remote for the TV is on the nightstand, and I reach over, grimacing when I feel the pull of my sore ribs. Heaving a sigh once I have the remote in my hand, I turn it onto Netflix, searching for any show that’s long enough to get me through the night. Leighton had offered to let me stay with her and Holden, but I don’t want to impose on anyone. I need to face facts, to realize I’m on my own now. I’ll never be with Brent again. Beside me, my phone dings with an incoming text message.

I unlock the screen and can’t help the little flutter in my stomach when I see that it’s from Anthony. I had no idea I had his cell number or he had mine, but this message is a beacon of light in a very dark night for me.

A: Don’t think this is creepy, but I figured you might be feeling a little alone. I have some paperwork to do, so I’m parked in your driveway. Nobody’s going to bother you as long as I’m here. You want me to leave, just tell me.

My hands shake as I push the covers off my legs and slowly inch my way over to the window that faces the driveway. Slightly, I pull back the curtain, and breathe easier when I see Anthony’s squad car. Knowing he’s so close makes me feel safer, knowing he’ll be here if anything happens gives me a peace I haven’t had in such a long time. It brings tears to my eyes and makes my throat close. How he knew I would need this, I’m not sure, but I respect the way he’s going about helping me. The only thing I can text back, are two very simple words which fail to convey the depth of my gratitude. Right now, though, they are all I can manage.

V: Thank you.

A: Sleep well, sweetheart. I got your back.

Shuffling back to the bed, I lie down, pull the covers up around my face. Instead of lying there for hours wondering what I’m going to do with my life, worrying about what happens if Brent finds out about the classes, or wishing I were anywhere but here, I relax. And for the first time in a long time, I fall asleep with a smile on my face. There’s still worry and fear, but it’s not crippling the way it’s been in the past. Somehow, I force myself to believe this is the beginning, not the end.

With what remains of my tattered pride, I’ll show Brent that he didn’t break me. He hurt me, and he damaged me, but he didn’t break me. No one has, and no one ever will.

Chapter 3

Violet

It’s been a week since I got out of the hospital, and I’m settling into a new routine, a new normal for me. Part of that new normal is having Anthony parked in front of my house almost every night. The other day he even did it in his own personal vehicle.

I’ve taken to texting him when he arrives, to thank him for being out there, but we haven’t really had a conversation since he brought me home. I have a feeling that’s more my doing than his, and he’s waiting for me to give him an opening. Tonight, I’m trying to create that opening.

Taking the hamburger off the grill pan I’ve cooked it on, I plate it on a bun with the ketchup, mustard, mayo, and relish I know he likes. Every time he comes into The Café, it’s how he orders his. I have one for myself too; eating is still a little difficult, but not as much as it had been when I first came home. Grabbing both of the plates and a bag with drinks and chips, I take a deep breath and head out my front door, toward the squad car he’s parked in.

Vi? Everything good?

Yeah. I offer him a small smile. Just thought maybe you’d like a home-cooked meal and maybe you’d like to share it with me?

The smile that spreads across his face is so bright, it’s almost as if I just gave him the key to the city. He opens the car door and sits on the hood, motioning for me to do the same. Taking the plates from me, he puts them down and helps me as I get my balance. I’d love to have dinner with a beautiful woman.

His stomach growls and we both laugh. We hardly talk while we eat, but being around another person is nice and I’m thankful there’s no anxiety. Maybe, just maybe I can find a way to live my life without looking over my shoulder or behind my back. If anyone can teach me, I know it’s the guy beside me eating a hamburger in all of three bites.

Hungry?

He looks a little chagrined. Starving. This was perfect.

And I find that as I’m finishing up my burger, and sharing the bag of chips with him – it truly is.

I gotta go. He wipes his mouth, patting his stomach. I have to do my normal rounds. I’ll check in again tonight before I go off-shift though.

A part of me is disappointed he’s leaving. I’ve come to enjoy knowing he’s here. Thanks for checking on me.

His hand moves toward my face, knuckles out. On instinct I jerk back, and his hand freezes in mid-air.

Sorry, we both say the word at the same time.

Shouldn’t have done that, he runs the hand through his hair.

Against my better judgement, I ask the question running through my mind. What were you going to do?

Slowly he turns towards me, his knees slightly touching mine. I close my eyes and force myself to relax.

Open those eyes, Vi. I want you to know what’s going to happen, I don’t want you to tense up in fear. Open eyes here, sweetheart. You’re gonna see what’s coming at you with me.

My eyes open and I pull my bottom lip in between my teeth, biting so that I feel a little sting. To remind myself I’m in control. Following his hand with my gaze, I watch as his long finger extends from his fisted hand, and then crooks before he places it under my chin. He lifts my face, silently asking me to meet his eyes. When I do, I see no anger, no hostility. There’s concern, and compassion. Finally, he speaks.

There’s no one else I’d rather be checking up on. It’s truly my pleasure. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to be.

So many thoughts swirl in my head, and before I can stop it, another question pushes past my lips. Why me?

Why not you? He grins, his sense of humor and playfulness coming through.

There’s a smile on my face, and a laugh on my breath. Two things I haven’t experienced in a long time. Seriously, Anthony.

Everything, Violet. You’re everything.

I shake my head, the tears coming quickly, like they do so often lately. I’m nothing.

He takes a chance, removing the finger from under my chin and placing his palm on my cheek, cupping it with gentle pressure. To him you were nothing, to me you’re everything. Sooner or later, you’ll figure out I’m not him. You’ll figure out I’m a patient man, and realize how great love can be. It doesn’t have to hurt, Vi. Sometimes it can be great.

Opening my mouth, I want to refute everything he’s said to me, but his radio makes a loud noise, and he’s jumping off the hood of his car. Reaching up, he helps me down, and before I know it, he’s gone, blue and white’s swirling atop the cruiser.

As I watch his taillights fade in the distance, I ask for one more miracle to happen. Not like I deserve it, but I want it either way.

Maybe one day, I’ll see myself the way he sees me.

Violet Miller.

Another part of my new normal? Visiting a therapist. It hadn’t even been on my radar. Not until Whitney showed up at my door, demanding to know if I was okay. Apparently the group had put her in charge because of her past, and she had given me her best advice. Talk to someone, she’d said, and after last night, I feel like she was probably right.

Standing up, I tug the shoulder strap of my purse up and try to walk with my head held high through the waiting room. It’s a blur, as they take my information, and then leave me to presumably wait for the doctor. I’m playing on my phone, to keep myself from going crazy.

A: Have a good day today. I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary last night, but it needed to be said.

V: I’m seeing a therapist today, only because I truly want to believe the things you tell me.

Why is it so much easier to say things over text with him? Lord, I wish I could talk to him as easily as I could text him. My phone dings with a response from him right as the door opens.

Violet?

That’s me, I put my phone back in my purse, and give my full attention to the situation I’m in.

A woman looking a little older than me enters. I’m Dr. Whitmer, nice to meet you. She has a seat, before leaning in to offer me her hand. The grip is firm, and in that moment, I decide the next person I meet I will have enough confidence in myself to give them a handshake like the one she gave me.

You wanna tell me a little bit about why you’re here? She crosses her legs, sitting back in her chair, as she holds her pen at the ready.

Like diarrhea of the mouth my whole story flows without stopping. I speak so long that my jaw begins to ache, and when I’m done, I feel as if I’ve gone ten rounds with a boxing champ.

Jesus. She takes her glasses off, setting them down on her lap with the notebook she’s been writing in. "After all that’s happened to you, what do you want for you?"

Not many people have ever asked me that question. Brent never did, that’s for damn sure. Immediately, last night flashes back to me, and I know without a doubt what I want, who I want to be.

I want to be a woman strong enough to believe a man loves her, not because he wants to control her, but because he wants to be her partner. I want to be strong enough and confident enough to be that partner for another man.

A smile spreads across her face. Then that’s what you’ll be, Violet. She leans forward, a piece of notebook paper in her hand. And this is how we’re going to get you there. We’ll see each other a few times a month until you feel like you don’t need me anymore.

Looking at the plan she’s laid out, I feel some things I haven’t in a long time. Excitement and hope – like I just might make it through this after all.

Chapter 4

Ace

Two Weeks Later

You sure you wanna do this? I question Violet as we stand outside her trailer. She brought me out a drink to where I’m parked in her driveway. Like I am every other night.

She nods. I go back to work in two days, and I really want to feel safe when I go there. Trust me, I know this isn’t a fix-all, Anthony, but it’ll make me feel better.

You know I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel safe, and if showing you how to fire a gun is going to do that, it’s what we’ll do.

I’ve tried to be accommodating with things she’s needed, and I completely agree with this request of hers. I believe more than anything, she should be able to protect herself, and if I can help her with that, I’m going to do it. The small can of pepper spray she carries can buy her some time if it ever came to that, but a gun? It could save her life if push came to shove.

Can’t we do it here? she asks, even as she’s getting into my truck.

I shake my head as I start the engine. Not here, there’s too many variables I can’t control. If we go to a shooting range, I can make sure you learn how to do it right and have all the tools you need within reach.

She’s quiet and I get the feeling she isn’t being completely honest with me. What’s really bothering you? Is it going back to work?

Will everyone be staring at me? Whispering about what happened to me? That’s my biggest fear about going back to work. Will people look at me with pity in their eyes, Anthony? She pushes back her dark hair, her eyes cutting over to me across the seat. I don’t know if I can take it. Everywhere I’ve been, people have looked at me with pity in their eyes. She licks her lips. Everyone but you. You’ve never looked at me like you could fix me, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

You’re not broken, Violet. There’s nothing to fix. I reach over and grab her hand, entwining our fingers together. When I come to a stop sign, I let my eyes drink in the sight of her, see her face for the first time in weeks without the mar of bruises and the tightness of tension.

The shaky breath she pushes between her lips is the only sound in the cab of the truck. Thank you, she whispers, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

Reaching over, I use my thumb to wipe up the moisture. If I could give this woman anything, it would be my vision of how I see her. She doesn’t understand what a strong person she is. How she’s handled what’s been given to her is nothing short of extraordinary. No thanks necessary. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you see what an amazing woman you are.

I’m not amazing. She keeps her head down, averting my eyes.

Trailing my thumb down her cheek, I sweep it under her chin, tilting it to force her to look at me. You’re everything, and I won’t stop until you realize it.

Realization of what she’s doing flairs in those eyes of hers, and I think for the first time, I’m getting through. Please don’t stop. Give me hope, Anthony.

You got it. I lean over, kissing her on the cheek.

One small peck holds our past, our future, and everything in between. Her brown eyes are locked on my green ones, and in this moment, we’re on the same wave-length.

The honk of a car horn behind us breaks the moment, but as I continue to the shooting range, I know this has been a game-changer. After everything she’s been through, Violet trusts me.

I’ll never betray it or abuse it, but I damn well will nurture it. And if she lets me, I’ll turn it into the most passionate love she’s ever experienced. I’ve waited to meet her my whole life, and I’ll be damned if I let the damage of the man before me wreck what could become the best thing either of us have ever had. I’ve been patient, I’ll continue to be patient and I’ll put in the time, because she’s worth every bit of the effort.

Keep your form tight, I tell her as I stand behind her.

Like this? she asks as she widens her stance, holding the gun in front of her with both hands.

Is it okay if I show you?

Glancing over her shoulder, she nods. I want to know how to do this correctly. I’m good with pepper spray, but I’d like to have more than that to save me if I need it.

If I have anything to say about it, she’ll never have to worry about protecting herself again; that’ll be my job. Stepping up close behind her, I tuck her back into my front. Awareness flashes through my body at holding her for the first time. I’ve wanted to hold her in a million ways since the day she came home from the hospital. If this is the only way she’ll let me, I’ll take it.

I extend my arms alongside hers, leveling her arms and adjusting her grip on the gun. After I guide her left hand to cradle the butt of the gun, I place her pointer finger alongside the trigger.

I lean in close, trying to ignore the way our bodies fit together. If this had been any other woman, at any other time, I’d press myself completely against her, let her feel the way I react, but I don’t want to scare her, and she’s tense enough. Relax. You’re too tense, you’ll be sore tomorrow if you don’t take a breath and loosen up. My voice is quiet, tone is level. Relax, line up your sights, and focus on your target. When you’re ready, move your finger on to the trigger. Take a deep breath and slowly pull. You need to get a feel for how the gun fires.

She pulls the trigger, staggering when the recoil forces her to lose a bit of her stance. Holding her up, I help brace her body as she adjusts her stance and arms and continues to fire until she empties the revolver we’re shooting.

Wanna go again? I ask, raising my voice so she can hear me above the ear protection. We’re alone in the range, having picked a time when I knew hardly anyone else would be around.

Yeah, this time by myself. I get what you’re saying about relaxing, yet being strong.

Taking the revolver she set down, I show her how to load the chambers. Placing it back down, I give her a nod. It’s all yours.

I step back, watching her as she assumes the position, lines up her shot, and fires. Her aim isn’t completely accurate, but she’s shooting well enough to injure someone if she needed to. When she empties again, she looks over her shoulder to me.

It’s not perfect, she worries her lip between her teeth.

No, but no one ever starts out perfect. It’s just like anything else, you have to practice. Once you practice enough it’s muscle memory and you won’t have to even think about it. We started you out with a lower caliber gun, and when you’re ready, we can practice on something bigger. The most important part is being able to accurately shoot whatever gun you have.

Her brain is working, I can almost see it as she nods. Do I have to be with you to come here?

No, but it helps to have your concealed carry license to rent a firearm and buy ammunition. Plus you’ll be able to carry. We can work on getting it, and then you’ll be able to do this whenever you want to.

Good. She carefully lays the gun down and takes a step back. This is what I want to do. She runs her hands over the back of her jeans, and I try not to pay attention to how well they fit.

Clearing my throat, I start putting our stuff away. Are you done for the day?

Yeah. She gives me a smile. Yeah, I think I am.

Seeing the little bit of pride she has in herself warms a space within me. Since all this went down, she’s been a shell of the girl she was when I first walked into The Café, but today it seems as if she’s gotten a little of herself back. The spark that initially intrigued me, is back today. I’m not ready for us to leave one another, I’d like to spend more time with her.

You hungry?

Starving. Her voice is soft again. I’ve noticed it gets that way when she’s answering questions she may not be used to being asked.

Then let’s go get some lunch.

We’re leaving the range when she grabs my hand, pulling me to a stop.

Not at The Café, right?

Even though that was exactly where we were going, I cover it well. No, we’ll go to my house if that’s okay with you.

Again she shows an amazing trust in me. Sure, sounds good.

And now I have to figure out what the fuck I’m going to feed both of us.

Violet

I know you weren’t planning on feeding me and you probably did think of going to the Café, so thank you for not making a big deal out of it, I speak around the grilled chicken I have in my mouth.

Ace had covered it well when I asked him if we had to go to the scene of the crime, so to speak. But when we got here, I could tell he hadn’t been planning on feeding me. We’ve done a good job as a team, though. He grabbed some chicken out of the fridge, grilling it to perfection with homemade barbecue sauce on it, while I found some sides to go along with it in his cupboards.

He laughs as I call him out.

Guilty as charged. To tell you the truth, you’re dealing with everything so well, I didn’t even think about it.

You think I’m dealing with things well? I take a drink of the best sweet tea that’s ever been placed in front of me. When I’d asked him who made it, he’d said his mom with a wink and a smile. By the end of the lunch, I have a feeling I’m going to be trying to figure out how the hell to get her to make me a week’s supply at a time.

Hell yeah. He takes a bite of his baked potato, blowing out a breath. Damn, that’s hot.

It’s comical, him trying to get a drink without spilling it down the front of his shirt, and a giggle breaks its way past my throat. It feels like forever since I’ve had any cause to laugh, but it feels good. Anthony Bailey gives me hope that things in my life can be different.

For a moment, I let my brain drift back to us at the range, his body pressed up against mine. It had taken everything I had not to show how it affected me, how my hands shook, how my heart pounded, and my breath hitched. I’d done my best to keep it friendly, hoped one day, that things in my life will be different. One day I’ll know what it’s like to settle in his arms, and not have to pretend like it doesn’t affect me.

Anyway. I’m proud of you. He finally swallows, giving me his attention and directing mine back to him. You’re getting out of your house, even if I have to drag you out. You’re facing things head-on. That would be a problem if you weren’t. But you’re taking things at your own pace.

I give a little nod, showing I’m accepting the praise, and just maybe I’m a little proud of myself.

Chapter 5

Violet

My hand shakes as I put a portion of my hair in a braid and pull it halfway back into the locks trailing down my shoulders. Half-up/half-down is one of my favorite ways to style my hair. Brent hated when I would play with my hairstyle like this – anything that was playful, fun, or age appropriate, he would sneer his nose up at. He preferred for me to wear it pulled back in a bun style that was so severe, it made me look like I was in my forties. Given the way I never smiled, never met anyone’s gaze – I probably did look like I was in my forties. Some miser who hated her life, and for a while I did. But I’ve come to realize over the past few weeks that’s so not me.

Not many people know I’m actually twenty-nine. Much too young to feel this damn old. Isn’t that a song or something? Once upon a time, I was someone who loved life, enjoyed pushing limits, and woke up every day looking forward to whatever adventure might be mine. Of all the things he took from me, that’s one of the things I miss the most, and probably why I’m so attracted to Anthony. The way he embraces every second of every day really does it for me, if I’m being honest.

You can do whatever you want to now, Vi. I remind myself. There’s no one to tell me yes or no, other than myself. Typically, I don’t wear makeup when working because Brent didn’t like that either. He didn’t want me to encourage what he called unwanted attention. Didn’t want another man to hit on me, or make me feel pretty. Just another way he controlled me and kept me afraid.

Flipping my middle finger up to the memory of my husband and the fear he forced me into, I grab the small bag of makeup I allowed myself to have. Rifling through it, I wish like hell this had been the first thing I did when I’d come home. Maybe that means I’m starting to heal, maybe I’m moving on from being the scared person I’ve been the past few years of my life. Hopefully the Violet I had been before I married Brent is starting to show herself.

Teenage Violet had been strong until one incident made her feel weaker than she’d ever felt – at least until what I’ve been through now. She’d been searching for something, someone to make sense of a tragedy. To make her feel again.

Funny, adult Violet is doing the same thing.

It’s going to take longer than a few weeks, that I’m fully aware of, but just the small glimpse of who I used to be puts a smile on my face. Finishing up my mascara I run the palms of my hands down my jeans and take a fortifying breath. Grabbing my bag, my phone, and my keys, I’m ready to start my first day back at The Café.

As I step onto the front porch, I take in the sun coming up over the horizon and vow to embrace this new day, the new beginning that I’m being given. Stepping off the bottom step and turning to my car, I sigh and let a small smile spread across my face.

Anthony is parked there, leaning against his personal vehicle. This is the man who’s quietly been my rock the last few weeks. Between the texts, sitting outside my house, sharing dinner with me, and just being a presence, he’s helped me more than anyone or anything else has. In the beginning I worried I was leaning on him too much, but the fact of the matter is, there’s no one else I trust like him. For him to know what I need before I ask for it? I’m blessed to have him in my life.

My heart does this little flutter that it hasn’t done in a long time. Years, if I’m being honest. His legs are crossed at the ankle, encased in jeans that fit loosely enough to show me a little of what he has underneath them. A fitted gray t-shirt stretches across his chest as he braces his palms against the grill of the truck, pushing off and slowly walking toward me.

What are you doing here? My eyes take in his face, covered with stubble, dark circles call attention to the pale green of his eyes, and a sleepiness gives him a sexy laziness as he stops in front of me. You look tired.

He yawns loudly, the chiseled jaw cracking as he puts a hand over his mouth to hold it back. I am. I worked the night shift. Got off around midnight. Three hours sleep is rough, but I can handle it. I wanted to see you this morning. He reaches out grasping hold of the end of my braid. I like your hair like this.

The words please me immensely. I try not to look into the fact that I probably did this, not only for me, but for him too. I hadn’t expected him to be here this morning, but I had expected to see him sometime today. Thank you. Now what are you doing here?

Reaching into his jeans with his free hand, he pulls his keys out, flipping them into the palm of his hand. I’m here to take you to work. It’ll be a rough day for you, regardless of how ready you are to go back. You may need support, and I wanna be there.

You’ve been here a lot. I swallow against the lump that’s popped up in my throat. When I think about everything he’s done for me, that lump is a constant. Sometimes, I sit back and can’t believe the goodness he’s brought to my life.

Only because I’ve wanted to be. He continues playing with the end of my hair. I want to curl into his caress, purr like a cat, and let him pet me everywhere. It’s been too long since a man touched me so softly.

You’re a good man, I whisper as he drops my hair and lets his hand cup my cheek. This time I do curl into his caress, but I keep from purring. That would be a little too weird for both of us.

His head shakes as the side of his mouth tilts up. I’m just a guy who wants to show you there are good men out there.

Trust me, Anthony. I lean in, kissing him on the cheek. You’re doing a really good job of it.

Let’s go. He hitches his head toward his truck.

I let my hand fall, grasping his lightly as he helps me step on the running board and take the passenger seat. As he turns to head for town, I look in the side-view mirror, seeing my home in the distance. There could be a metaphor here, me leaving my past behind as I drive toward my future. This is something that would have scared me before, would have given me so much anxiety I would have re-thought the situation and decided to stay where it was comfortable. My fear of change kept me with Brent for so long, I almost didn’t live to see my way out. Crazy how things work in life.

Across the console, Anthony reaches over, grabbing my hand. His every action has shown me that he will help me go where it’s uncomfortable, he will be by my side when it doesn’t feel like I can handle what I’ve been dealt. I hold onto his fingers for dear life, and I know that with him by my side, I can do anything I put my mind to.

For a moment, I close my eyes, center myself, and realize I’m ready. This may not be easy, but it’ll totally be worth it.

Violet!!!

I hear the high-pitched squeal before I even make it inside the building. There’s a small hesitation as I come to the doorway of The Café; I feel a small push of foreboding, a little bit of dread. I know that I must overcome it. If I don’t, every time I walk inside, every time I drive down the street, or when I happen to think about it will be a hard