Embattled Home (29 page)

As she stepped to the side of the bed, she wanted to jerk him up and hold him against her, make him open his beautiful silver eyes and tell her he loved her.

But he hadn’t done that for a long time.

Her eyes catalogued the machines. He was on a vent, saline dripped steadily into his arm along with another clear fluid she couldn’t see the sticker of. Probably some kind of pain med.

There was a scuff on his heavy jaw and dark hair had already begun to darken his jaw. They’d left the johnny hanging, untied, merely draped over his massive chest. They probably couldn’t have tied it even if he’d been vertical.

Lifting the edge of the fabric, she found several heavy-duty bandages high on his chest. She looked at the men. “Are one of you a doctor? Tell me what happened.”

All three of them stood at the end of the bed, watching her. But the one with the cane spoke up. “I’m Harper’s employer, Duncan Wilde. Would you explain who you are please?”

Cat looked the man up and down. Forties, salt and pepper hair, a little grayer on the sides. Kind, experienced brown eyes. “I’m his wife. Estranged for the past year and a half, but still his wife. Why didn’t you call me if you’re his employer?”

The man shifted against his black cane. “Honestly, there was no beneficiary contact in his employment file. Who did call you?”

Cat blinked. “I think the hospital. The VA I mean. Not this one.”

The other gray haired man spoke up. “I called the VA to let them know he had been injured and to get his medical records. They must have called her.” He stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Dr. Reynolds. I just operated on your…husband. He’s had significant damage…”

Cat struggled to focus as the doctor went through the list of major and minor injuries, but her eyes kept drifting back to his form on the bed. He seemed bulkier to her, even lying the way he was. But his face seemed leaner. Deep grooves bracketed his mouth and her fingers itched to stroke them away. Damn, after eighteen months she should have been pissed, and in the back of her mind she knew she was, but she was more happy to see him right now. Thrilled, actually.

The doctor was still going on, cautioning her about getting her hopes up. She laughed and shook her head at the man. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Preston will be fine.”

The Embattled Road
(FREE prequel)

Embattled Hearts
 – Book 1

Embattled Minds
 – Book 2

SEALed with a Kiss Anthology

Her Forever Hero

Other books by J.M. Madden

Second Time Around

A Needful Heart

Wet Dream

Love On the Line
 – Book 1

Love On the Line – Book 2

The Awakening Society
 – FREE!

Tempt Me

Urban Moon Anthology

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I am a wife and mother of two. I am a stay at home writer, which I dearly love, and I recently added the title USA Today Bestselling author to my moniker.

I was a Deputy Sheriff in Ohio for nine years, and I found myself tapping that experience as I wrote Second Time Around, my very first book. No, I didn’t tackle and cuff my husband, although there was that time in K-mart… Anyway, it was quite a change going from writing technical reports with diagrams, witness statements, inventories, etc., that would stand up in court to writing contemporary romance. I’ve always written, though, and it was always a dream to do something with that huge, leaning stack of spiral bound notebooks.

I’ve now published 15 books, with many more on the way. I thank you so much for taking an interest in my work!

Excerpt from

Somebody’s Angel
(Rescue Me Saga #4)

by Kallypso Masters

Copyright 2013-2014 Kallypso Masters LLC

Available now in e-book and trade paperback

Description:

When Marc d’Alessio first rescued the curvaceous and spirited Italian Angelina Giardano at the Masters at Arms Club (in
Nobody’s Angel
), he never expected her to turn his safe, controlled life upside down and pull at his long-broken heartstrings. Months later, the intense fire of their attraction still rages, but something holds him back from committing to her completely. Worse, secrets and memories from his past join forces to further complicate his relationships with family, friends, and his beautiful angel.

Angelina cannot give all of herself to someone who hides himself from her. She loves Marc, the BDSM world he brought her into, and the way their bodies respond to one another, but she needs more. Though she destroyed the wolf mask he once wore, only he can remove the mask he dons daily to hide his emotions. In a desperate attempt to break through his defenses and reclaim her connection to the man she loves, she attempts a full frontal assault that sends him into a fast retreat, leaving her nobody’s angel once again.

Marc finds that running to the mountains no longer gives him solace but instead leaves him empty and alone. Angelina is the one woman worth the risk of opening his heart. Will he risk everything to become the man she deserves and the man he wants to be?

ABOUT THE RESCUE ME SAGA: These books are not stand-alone stories and should be read in order. Characters will recur in later books to deal with further issues in their lives as the saga continues and each book builds upon all previous ones. Sometimes main characters even need another book to help resolve major issues affecting their relationships.

CONTENT WARNING: These books are intended for mature adult readers who are not offended by profanity and graphic (but never gratuitous!) sex scenes. Due to the emotional way in which the author presents the subject matter in the characters’ lives (past and present), the books might cause triggers while reading. Please click the preview to read the Author’s Notes at the beginnings of each book before reading.

Excerpt from an interrogation scene in which Adam, his retired master sergeant, uses SERE School tactics from their Marine Corps training to get at what has Marc stuck in the present and unable to move forward.

Adam knew what had to be done to break him—humiliation and demoralization would play a part in it, for sure. Marc would gladly forego food and water if it would help him reach the breaking point faster, not that Adam had offered him anything to eat. Food he could live without, but he’d been given the bare minimum of water he’d need to survive without having his kidneys shut down.

No way did he see how this scene was going to accomplish anything Marc wanted to uncover. He trusted Adam too much to suspend belief and see him as a heartless inquisitor. Besides, how was he supposed to dig up answers if Adam asked so few questions? He’d spent a lifetime burying shit like that memory of Gino and their lair.

A lair? Who called their childhood hideout a lair? He wondered what it had looked like and regretted that Adam had disturbed the memory before he’d seen it again with his mind’s eye.

Gone. Again.

Adam said nothing. Marc stood, waiting. What if the scene was over? Would Adam give up on him? No! They hadn’t gotten anywhere! Disappointment flooded his senses that another attempt at getting to the root of his problems had failed.

“Arms in front.”

Adrenaline pumped through his veins instantly. This scene wasn’t over! Marc extended his arms in front of him, anxious to continue. His shoulders ached from having been in the same unnatural position for however long. He shook them out before presenting them to Adam. At least, he assumed Adam stood in front of him. That’s where his voice had come from on the last command. The room was still pitch black, his hood firmly in place.

Adam wrapped something around Marc’s left wrist and pulled tight. A cuff. Adam easily slipped his finger between Marc’s skin and the padded leather. Not too tight. He then cuffed the right wrist. A raspy noise and jerking motion with his hands told him Adam was threading rope through the D-rings.

“Lift your arms.”

Marc did so and soon found himself restrained from the ceiling, an eyebolt, he supposed. Adam adjusted the ropes until only Marc’s toes made contact with the floor. The strain on his arms hurt more, because this was the opposite of how his arms had been restrained so far.

Silence. No more questions. No commands.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Even the clock became white noise after a while. The quiet left Marc sinking slowly into his own dark thoughts. Only this time, memories of Gino with Melissa clouded his mind.

“She’s not worth this, Marc. Why don’t you think with your head for once, you asshole?”

Gino slammed him against the wall and restrained Marc’s arms above his head.

Somehow, Marc managed to shake him off, or perhaps Gino released him. Marc surveyed the scene in the bedroom, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. Where had Melissa gone? After what he’d just seen, did he care? Marc grabbed his jacket and left Gino behind. If he wanted her so badly, then he could have her. Fuck them both!

Marc’s head nodded, and he jerked back into his stance.

Slap!

The sting of the tawse across his bare ass stung momentarily, but he soon grew too tired to care. Definitely a tawse, though. He’d felt it before. When?

How long had he been hanging in this position? Sleep wasn’t advisable if he wanted to keep from hanging by his wrists, so he fought to stay awake and try to keep his legs steady.

Adam made no sound at all. Was he even there? Surely, he was. Adam wouldn’t abandon him, not like so many others had done in his life. His parents. Melissa. Gino.

Angelina.

His chest ached at the thought that she’d walked away like all the rest.

Marc tried to adjust his position but had very little wiggle room. Surely Adam would cut him down soon. How long would he have to remain in this position? He fought the urge to call out to his friend, not wanting to mess with the scene. Adam would interact with him when the time was right. He knew how to break a man in an interrogation.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Crack!

The sting of something on his shoulder dissipated more slowly than that from the tawse.
Merda
, it stung. Marc fought his restraints, shifting on his toes again to relieve the strain on his shoulders.

Adam! It took a while, but Marc’s mind registered he was no longer alone. The sense of relief washing over him made the sting in his shoulders more bearable for a moment. Adam hadn’t left or, if he had, he’d returned. How long had Marc slept before Adam had woken him so abruptly? His arms ached from hanging.

“Enjoy your nap?”

He was told to answer truthfully. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good, because that’ll be the last one you’ll have for a while. Time for some music.”

Adam placed a headset over his ears. The padded headphones masked some of the ambient noise in the room. Marc waited, unsure what music his master sergeant had chosen. He expected loud and obnoxious if they were using sleep-deprivation tactics. Marc preferred Italian opera or…

The first chords of the “music” blasted forth. Way too loud. A demonic voice screamed into his ear. Who could possibly deem this music?

Tangled in a web of reversed lies

and my reflection is the one that’s on my side.

Marc’s nerves, already on edge from a lack of sleep and time/space disorientation, screamed, too. One cacophonous “song” bled into the next. Damián had to have done this. Did that mean Adam had told him about the scene? Was he one of the interrogators Adam referred to earlier? The man was into serious metal music. This crap made Marc’s jaws ache. How could anyone call this shit music?

Marc couldn’t always tell when one track ended and another began but needed to keep his focus. He guessed there had been eight or nine of them. If each lasted three or four minutes, he’d been listening for twenty-five to thirty-five minutes. Focusing on the number of songs could help him keep track of time. Not that he had any idea how much time had passed already. He needed to keep his mind occupied.

Focus.

Time—and the noise—droned on without a break. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen tracks.

I am a dominant gene—live as I die

Was he a Dominant? He didn’t have a clue.

Slap!

The tawse stung his thigh, jerking Marc awake. How the hell had he fallen asleep with that god-awful crap blaring in his ears? Marc couldn’t think about the present, much less the past. Fuck. He’d lost count of the number of tracks. How long had he slept this time? Was Adam waking him immediately or letting him rest some to skew his ability to judge the passage of time?