Resist Me (Change Me Book One - standalone): McCoy Raven Boys (5 page)

“That girl needs someone to help her. She’s got no family, no friends to speak of.
 

Jack laugh sounded bitter. He shook his head and spat on the ground. “I’m tellin’ ya. This is
too
messed up.” He looked over to the side and was silent for a few heartbeats. When he turned his face back to me, he said, “You can’t let that go, do you? That Afghan spy girl? That’s what this is about, right?”

I wanted to punch something. Hard. I didn’t want to be reminded of what had happened in the past; of what had made me leave the service as soon as I was allowed, right at the end of my four-year term. The anguish I had finally managed to bury deep inside my soul had no business to resurface now. My jaw hurt from tensing, but thankfully my self-control immediately kicked in.
 

I pushed my hands inside my pants pockets and took a deep, slow breath; then another one; and one more. The crowd composed of spectators, the media, the police, and the fuck knew who else was still swirling around, gaping and pointing. Rescue 12 and 18 were about to leave. Our job here was done. Except it really wasn’t.
My
job wasn’t.
 

I had an obligation I’ve imposed on myself after I let that teenage Afghan girl get captured by the Taliban scum, raped, and beaten to death. It was my fault, no matter what Jack or everyone else said. I could’ve opened fire and dragged her back into the building. But instead, I sat there, watching, because that’s what my
orders
were—to stay hidden, and under no circumstances reveal my presence, until I was told otherwise. If I went against the orders… yeah, I would’ve gotten myself in big shit, but our team’s informer girl wouldn’t have died.
 

So many nights after that morning I would lay in bed, drenched in sweat, with my heart violently thrashing in my chest, unable to get the vision out of my mind. She was barely sixteen—a little, skinny thing wrapped in a black chador. She wanted so badly to escape that life. Her dream was to be brought to America and attend college to earn the nursing degree. A dream that she’d cherished for years, only to have it slayed together with her own life. And I let that happen.
 

Her name was Najia. She told me it meant “One Who Is
Saved
”. How ironic.
 

“Ethan!” Jack’s voice brought me back to reality. He shook his head and shoved his hand through his hair. “Buddy, you have to stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t fucking your fault. It just wasn’t. You had orders, we all did.”

I didn’t comment.

“So now what? You will go on saving the whole damn world? I know it’s hard, but—”

“No, but I can try to save
that
one.” I tipped my chin toward the paramedics rig.
 

“That’s guilt talking!”

I shrugged. I didn’t feel like having that discussion, so I started toward the rig. Jack swore and caught up with me.
 

“You made up your mind, huh? No talking you out of this?” he asked.
 

I walked fast, without slowing down.
 

“Right.” He swore again. “Okay, how can I help?”

“Stay out of this.”

“Fuck no! I’m not leaving you alone to deal with this shit, even though you’re a crazy asshole,” he puffed.
 

“Runs in the family,” I shot back.
 

He smirked. “Yeah, I suppose.”
 

I glanced at my best friend. His father and mine were brothers, and so we looked a lot like each other. He often passed for my own brother, especially because I had four of them, and Jack had three of his own siblings. It was damn hard for anyone to keep track of who was who in our large family.
 

I grinned at him, trying to ease out his worries. “Don’t you grow a pussy, bro. I can handle this.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, listen. Don’t play a fucking hero, you hear me? I’m here for you. You’re an honorable idiot, but I’ve got your back.”

“Sure. I’ve learned from the best honorable idiot.” I pointed at him. “See ya at the firehouse.”

He mumbled something, but I was already walking away. I wanted to get the hell out of here. The Chief was waiting for me with Chris by the paramedics’ rig. The feds weren’t there, and I wondered if they, after all somehow managed to convince Gloria to leave with them.
 

“Where is she?” I asked in stride.
 

“Inside. Ethan, wait…” Chris called after me.
 

I turned my head to her.
 

“Let’s do this. I’m okay with it.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Chris.”

Chapter Five

ETHAN
 

Chief Holton took me to the side. “Ethan, what the hell is going on? The feds are telling me this young lady is withdrawing from their witness protection plan. That wasn’t what you were asked to do.”

“I can’t convince her to go against her gut. She’s free to do as she pleases,” I told him. “I tried, Chief.”

He sighed. “Okay, Ethan. I know you did. What’s her plan now then?”

I glanced around for any spying ears and quietly said, “She’s coming with me. I offered her my guest room in my Lake cabin for a few days while she sorts things out with her lawyer.”

The Chief’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Are you serious? Ethan, this is… ah, crap.”

“She just needs to lay low for a bit. She’s scared and, from what I gathered, she has no place to go.”

He looked at me in silence, his face hard. “Ethan, I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. I should’ve never asked you to get involved.”

“Don’t sweat it, Chief. If I didn’t want to help her, I wouldn’t.”

“Let me know if I can do anything.”
 

“Thanks, Chief. I will.”

“And don’t worry about the incident documentation. I will take care of it all, son.”

“That would be a big help.”
 

Chapter Six

GLORIA
 

Chris was back in the rig. Ethan came back soon after she returned. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to be left alone. My heart beat a fast staccato in my chest again, and I had to quickly lean with my back against the vehicle wall to keep from falling onto the floor. Black spots clouded my vision. I could hear the blood rushing through my ears, blocking all the sounds.
 

My eyelids fluttered. I saw Ethan and Chris bolt to my side. Ethan’s mouth was moving, but I couldn’t understand the words. He scooped me up in his arms and reclined me down on the bench I occupied before. Chris kneeled next to me and put the oxygen mask over my nose and mouth.
 

“Breath slowly.” I read her lips.
 

I was unable to keep my eyes open. Everything just stopped and went black.
 

I wasn’t sure how long until I regained consciousness. The oxygen mask was still on my face, and something very cold was placed over my forehead and under the back of my neck. First thing I saw was Ethan’s frowning face. His dark eyes were focused on me. They were so… dark, and deep… wow, I could get lost in them.
 

Chris was checking my pulse. Ethan touched the side of my face. His hand felt comfortably warm, gentle, and almost familiar.
 

I took a deep breath and sighed with relief. My heart slowed down, and I experienced a strange calm sliding over me. Maybe they gave me a shot of something to ease my nerves?

“Gloria, how are you feeling?” Ethan’s low, raspy voice sounded considerate. That gentleness didn’t quite belong to his masculine, chiseled features, and hard stare. He reeked of an alpha-male decisiveness and dominance. I would never want to get on his bad side.
 

“Did I pass out?” I croaked and cleared my throat.
 

“Yes. I think you had a panic attack. Has that ever happened to you before?” he asked.
 

I looked away. I didn’t want to think of the last two weeks. The panic attacks started immediately when the police took me in, after my frantic call to report Helen’s murder. It was as if a switch was flipped inside me. My normal laid-back, calm attitude was gone. It was replaced by a constant state of fright and awareness that the ruthless killers out there were looking for me. I was next on their hit list.
 

“When did they start?” Ethan’s stare softened a notch when I turned my head to look at him again. “The panic attacks—when did they start?”
 

“I feel so tired,” I whispered.
 

“Gloria, what about those panic attacks? Is that something new? Have you seen a doctor lately?” Ethan was persistent. He seemed like a man who never took a “no” for an answer.
 

He loomed over me, sitting next to me on the bench. Over six feet of a hard-muscled, wide-shouldered male made me feel vulnerable and stupidly weak inside. I hated myself for it. No man has ever affected me that way, and I didn’t welcome such intrusion.
 

“What panic attacks? I just freaked out for a moment. That doesn’t mean I had a panic attack.” I was angry—at him, at myself, at the FBI, and at everyone else who forced themselves on me in the name of protection, help, or whatever the hell they felt it was their right.
 

“This was the classic panic attack. I don’t know your story, but I assume you were in a difficult situation, and that might have resulted in a possible Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Have you talked with a physician about your symptoms?”

Okay, screw that. He was a trained paramedic and whatever else—I had a feeling there was a lot more to this guy than working as a firefighter. No way I could fool him. So I made a snap decision to tell him about this whole mess I was in.
 

“Two weeks ago, I witnessed a gang rape and murder of my good friend. We worked at a restaurant close to the University campus, just four evenings a week to make a few bucks and get some free meals. One night… it was really late… there was a large birthday party, and so we were asked if we could work till closing. Neither of us would ever turn away a possibility of making some extra cash. The place was two blocks down from the campus so we just walked back.” My voice shook, and so did my hands. I took a deep, cleansing breath to compose myself and then one more. They didn’t help much.
 

Ethan handed me a plastic bottle of water. I accepted, sat up, and took a long swig. Cool liquid felt calming and refreshing in my throat.
 

Chris took the ice packs that fell onto the bench and put them away inside a freezer part of a tiny fridge in the corner. She pulled out another set of ice packs, but I shook my head to stop her.
 

I looked back at Ethan. He was concentrating on me, waiting for me to continue.
 

“I realized that I forgot my purse from the restaurant, so I asked Helen—that was my friend’s name—to return with me to get it. But she said she had a sore spot on her heel and would rather wait for me there. I promised to be quick and come back in a couple of minutes. I hurried, but the restaurant owner stopped me to ask if I had the key to the locker. When I finally got back to the spot I left Helen at, she wasn’t there. And then I heard her scream. It sounded awful, scared, like that of a very hurt animal. Then it stopped. They must have covered her mouth. These guys were laughing and taunting her. I heard them slapping her. I didn’t know how to help without becoming a victim myself.”
 

I bit on my lip to stop the tears from falling. My vision blurred, and I swiped angrily at my eyes. Ethan and Chris were quiet, waiting for the rest of the story.
 

“They… they tore her clothes off; completely off. Didn’t leave a thread on her. They raped her, all four of them by turns and quickly as if competing which one can go faster and harder. She tried to fight back, but they held her down and covered her mouth. They punched and slapped her repeatedly. It was terrible, just terrible. And I felt so helpless and scared.” I gave in to sobs. They shook my whole body.
 

I could see that scene right in front of my eyes. Even when I squeezed them shut it wouldn’t go away. It was burned onto the insides of my eyelids. I could never forget it.
 

Chris wrapped her arm around me, but remained quiet. Ethan wasn’t talking either. But I felt them exchanging silent words, speaking with their eyes, wordlessly discussing what they just heard.
 

I had to tell them the rest of the story, because the part they heard left too much out.
 

So I continued, trying not to sob but with a lousy result, “I had to do something, but I was too scared to even move. I thought about running back to the restaurant, but everyone was gone, except for the owner. She wouldn’t be able to help—she was an older lady with bad knees and a replaced hip. My only option was to call the cops. But first I wanted a proof of what I was witnessing for the police to possibly find them. So I took my phone out and started to record them torturing Helen. I hoped they would finally leave her laying there when they were done, so I could drag her somewhere safe and call the cops. But one of the guys took a knife out and sliced Helen’s throat! Just like that; with no reason. Oh, God… that was horrible… blood was everywhere. I screamed, and they saw me. I ran. I got away. But I dropped my cell phone and didn’t dare to go back to pick it up.”