Operation Ginger Avenger [Divine Creek Ranch 24] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2

  Calm down. It’s not a shackle.

  She knew she was safe and far removed from that squalid, remote house in East Texas, but anxiety triggers still popped up from time to time, and that snared sensation was one of them.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Maya Warner removed the cuff and gave her an understanding smile as she recorded the reading. “How are you feeling?”

  Hesitating, she glanced at Maya and then chuckled. “I’ve been better, but I’ve also been a lot worse.”

  Bless her, Maya didn’t respond with “I understand.” Nobody could understand, unless they’d been held against their will for several months, raped, and used as a breeder, starved, deprived of basic human privileges like access to a bathroom, and beaten. There was no way to explain how it felt to wake up from a nightmare and still feel the shackles around her ankles and wrists. The physical wounds had healed, mostly, but the inner scars still bled sometimes.

  “Are you still having headaches?” Maya asked as she took a seat on the stool and began typing on the laptop.

  Jessica nodded or shook her head through a series of questions. Looking down, she realized she was bouncing one knee and put her hand out to stop it.

  “How many hours are you sleeping on average?”

  “Four…maybe five on a good night.” Which was an improvement.

  Maya took down the information without making comment, most likely because she knew Jessica didn’t like talking about herself and what had happened to her more than she absolutely had to. Emma Rivers, her doctor, had no such qualms.

  Emma was true to form when she came in and plopped down on the stool. She discussed the medications Jessica was still using. The antidepressant had helped somewhat, so she’d kept with it and the anxiety medication she kept close to hand when the panic became too much. In the last year those incidences had decreased.

  Then Emma made direct eye contact. “How’s life?”

  “Fine. Okay, not exactly fine. But I’m sleeping more at night than I used to.”

  Emma glanced at the computer screen and then gave her the really? eyebrow. “Work?”

  “No complaints.” In the beginning, after she’d gone back to work in Houston as an optometrist, she’d had a difficult time controlling her panic, especially when she had to dim her office lights to test a patient’s vision. The kids were easy. Adults were harder, especially men of exceptional size. Her kidnapper, Trevor Dornan, hadn’t been all that tall, but he’d taken sadistic glee in her cowering at his feet while he terrorized her.

  She could’ve eventually found something else to do, but the idea of quitting the work she enjoyed because of what had happened had seemed too much like allowing Dornan to continue holding her captive.

  She’d done well in school and had stellar recommendations from her previous employer, so the senior optometrist at Divine Optical had accommodated her special needs, handling most of the male patients, especially the bigger ones. And the receptionist made a point of scheduling her with mostly children and women. It was an ideal situation, so she went out of her way, and her comfort zone sometimes, to be accommodating to them.

  “Social life?”

  “Not much of it,” Jessica muttered, guilt slithering in as she recalled all the invitations to go out dancing at the Pony with friends that she’d turned down recently. There just didn’t seem much point.

  “Why not?” That Emma could pose such a question with a smile on her face hinted that she already knew the answer. “And please don’t bullshit me.”

  “I do better than I used to, although big crowds sometimes trigger anxiety. Mostly…I just wonder why I bother, you know? Unless it’s a big event like a wedding, I just feel…meh about going out.”

  “Well, at least you’re not blaming it on Bella. That toddler is a babysitter’s dream.”

  Jessica had to agree. She’d lucked out with an easygoing baby.

  “If the social setting was ideal, do you think you could swing hanging out for a couple of hours?”

  “Maybe, but I just ask myself, why? I don’t feel attractive or sexy. With all my issues, I’m certainly not good relationship material. And even beyond what happened to me, I’ve never been what you’d call a social butterfly.”

  “I know that. But you used to go out with Cassie and Violet occasionally. They’ve told me you haven’t done that in over a year. I don’t want to see you lose ground.”

  “I just don’t feel like going out. It seems like a wasted effort.”

  Emma nodded as Jessica rambled on and then finally said, “What does your therapist say?”

  “That it’s a process. She reminds me of how far I’ve come and got me in the habit of journaling, which helps when I remember to do it. I feel like an old lady in a young woman’s body. Asexual. She thought I should mention that to you because she wondered if the anti-depressant was contributing.”

  Emma went back to the monitor and scrolled through Jessica’s file. “Looking at the results from your last blood work, I think you need to continue on your meds, but I know of something that might help.”

  She’d thought at first that it might be lingering postpartum depression or the remnants of the heavy crush she’d carried for Val Teller and Ransome Cross, but the last time she’d run into them she hadn’t felt anything except affectionate friendship.

  The two former bounty hunters had rescued her from Trevor Dornan, and she’d had a serious case of hero worship, and who could blame her? They’d saved her from a dire, possibly life-threatening situation—and they were hot. They were also happily ensconced in a committed ménage with Charity and Justin Connors.

  It was about the time that Jessica had discovered Val and Ransome were very much taken that she’d begun to have symptoms of a worsening depression, one that she couldn’t simply overlook as baby blues. Enter the anti-depressants and the beginning of her long slide into loss-of-libido land. Even her fantasy life was as dead as the batteries in her vibrator.

  “I’m going to write you a prescription for a hormone cream. It might help with your loss of libido. And I want you to give it an honest go, okay? Trevor Dornan took more from you than just three months of your life. The rat bastard stole your identity as a woman, your sense of worth, and your sexuality from you, but that dick-brained ball-less toe-sucking mother-effer is behind bars for good, and it’s up to you to take those things back. You deserve to have some fun, and Bella deserves a happy, whole mama.”

  Jessica grinned and almost felt like laughing at Emma’s comical diatribe. “You’re such a dork. I miss you, too. And...I know you’re right.”

  For once, Jessica left Emma’s exam room without having cried first. She still felt emotionally flat, but the weight on her shoulders had lightened. Prescriptions in hand, Emma walked her to the checkout desk where Maya sat with big, innocent eyes.

  Looking straight at Jessica, she said, “You have a pair of visitors in the waiting room. They said they tracked you down because it was important. Lydia told them you’d probably still be here.”

  Leaning forward so she could see out the waiting room window, she spotted the duo in question. Craning her head so she could see too, Emma said, “Wow. That’s pretty thoughtful of them. They are such great guys. You go ahead and I’ll talk to you later.”

  Just then, they spotted her. So much for running out the back door. Emma would never let her get away with it anyway.

  Chapter Two

  Tank’s and Troy’s attention was trained on her as she slipped into the waiting room and they stood from their seats. Impatience with herself grew when they were slow to approach, as though they were handling a skittish horse. Tank and Troy had been there for her in so many ways. They deserved to not have to treat her with kid gloves.

  “Sorry to surprise you like this,” Troy murmured as he held open the door that led out into the medical building’s lobby.

  Their combined scents, the starch in Tank’s button-down shirt and the hint of a clean woodsy-smelling body wash o
r shaving gel they used was nice as she slipped past them. Nice? That was how she knew something was wrong with her. That scent alone, besides their buff good looks, was enough to set any woman’s panties on fire. But to her, it was nice. And safe. Almost comforting. Most men made her nervous, but Tank and Troy were two that she knew she could trust.

  She didn’t know why they still bothered with her. Two such hunky beefcakes had to have women lusting after them by the dozen. She knew she should be one of them.

  “Could we take you to lunch? We need to talk to you,” Tank said, a half-smile on his face when she looked up and realized she’d been caught sniffing him.

  “I’m due to pick Bella up from her babysitter in just a few minutes.” She almost wished she had time.

  “Okay, what if we just sat on that bench in the corner? We need to show you something.” The look of concern on Tank’s face perked up her curiosity.

  “I can do that. What’s the matter?”

  Instead of sitting on either side of her, she noticed that Troy perched on the edge of the bench with at least a foot between them and Tank squatted down in front of her, rather than closing her in on the other side or standing over her. The consideration didn’t surprise her, but it annoyed her that she needed it.

  Even on one knee in front of her, he was still at eye level. Her curiosity grew as he activated the screen on his tablet and clicked an app. He hesitated to place it so she could see it and lifted troubled hazel eyes her. “Please don’t be upset. We had no idea she was doing this. It’s already gone viral. Otherwise, we’d ask her to take it down—”

  “But it’s already been copied and shared so many times even if she took it down it would still be out there,” Troy finished for him as he rubbed his palms on his thighs in a nervous gesture. Troy rarely showed nerves like that.

  “What?” She reached for the tablet, trying to imagine what could inspire the worry on their faces and the red tips of Tank’s ears. Compassion filled her because she knew how much they both hated that they were freckled with fair skin and turned red in the face so easily.

  “This.” He turned the tablet to her. “Click Play.”

  Focusing on the frozen image onscreen, Jessica thought the lady looked familiar. When the video was done buffering, the pretty woman, probably in her sixties, brushed her long white hair over her shoulder and blinked as she smiled into the camera lens. “Is it on now? Are you recording? Oh-okay. Hi there. My name is Maryetta—”

  Jessica paused the video. “This is your mom, isn’t it, Tank? I remember you mentioning her name.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Keep watching.”

  She clicked Play, and Maryetta continued. “I’m making this video for my boys, Tank Drummond and Troy Burnett. Well, one of them isn’t actually my biological son, but I count him as one. And going by their fair coloring, freckles, and red hair, and all that brawn, you’d think they were related, wouldn’t you?” She held a picture of Tank and Troy steady for the cameraman.

  “Anyway, my boys are still single, and they deserve a woman who can see how kind, smart, and compassionate they are and love them for more than their big muscles, handsome faces, and cute butts.”

  Troy groaned miserably and rubbed his forehead as he glanced at her and then looked at the screen. The shot of Maryetta faded and was replaced by a still image of both men at a younger age, maybe early twenties, standing on a boat deck partially clad in scuba gear.

  Holy hot flashes, Batman!

  Tank’s curly red hair was longer, down around his shoulders, and his already beefy pecs and arms were well defined within the partially zipped wet suit. Troy wore a wetsuit, too, but his upper torso was completely bared. The sun shone on his fair skin, defining his lanky musculature and his chest hair, which tapered to a happy trail that disappeared behind the wetsuit hugging his hips. The picture faded as Maryetta continued speaking, and Jessica wanted to back the video up so she could stare just a little longer but didn’t give in to the urge.

  “A friend told me gingers are hot these days, thanks to Outlander and whatever Jamie’s ginger fuzz is. That has to be a good thing, right? I love a fuzzy man, myself. Anyway, Tank and Troy assured me they’re not gay.”

  “Kill me now,” Troy whispered behind his hands, his ears turning bright red. Under normal circumstances—if there was such a thing in their friendship—Jessica might’ve been amused, but she was beginning to understand what the video was about.

  Maryetta said, “They’ve told me they’re just picky and are hoping for the right girl—I mean girls. They’ve dated in the past and even had a few girlfriends, but nothing has panned out for them. My hope is that you, if you are watching, wonderful young lady, that you’ll see they also have lovely hearts. Big mushy hearts.”

  “Well, she’s not wrong,” Jessica whispered, and heat filled her own cheeks as she sensed both men’s attention on her. Unable to look up, she kept her attention on the video.

  “Sooo…what kind of woman would my boys like? I think it has to start with a big heart. They give nice big squishy hugs, so whoever they fall in love with will need to like that about them. They’re both affectionate, so inaccessible, standoffish types need not respond to this video. But if you like lots of hugs then watch on.”

  One of Jessica’s triggers was being enclosed in tight embraces, and she got panicky if she felt trapped. Talk about incompatible. But her heart ached and her eyes burned as she envisioned them hugging some other woman that way.

  A shot of them in their military dress uniforms appeared, crisply starched and looking so serious, and Maryetta said, “They both served in the Army with honor and were highly praised by their commanding officers. They’re pretty physical, as you can imagine. They’re cowboys now and work on a real ranch.” The still images were replaced by video clips of them on the ranch and in various other pursuits, including a skydiving clip that made Jessica’s stomach pitch.

  “They love to deer hunt, scuba dive, and even skydive! Oh, and, no, I’d didn’t take that crazy video of them jumping out of that perfectly good plane. And if all that doesn’t make your ovaries implode, they also coach a Little League team and help out at their local animal shelter. They love horses, beer, country music, motorcycles, hanging out with friends. They love their mom, and they’re on Facebook.” A still of their Facebook profiles popped up.

  “Oh boy…” She glanced at the ticker showing how many times the video had been viewed so far, and a chill swept up her arms.

  Maryetta said, “So enough about my boys! Now it’s your turn! If you think that you, or your marriageable and fertile sisters, daughters, nieces, or friends might be right for my boys, share this video with them, would you? Tank and Troy can be reached at this e-mail address.” A Hotmail address appeared at the bottom of the screen.

  “Thank you for watching, and if you’re the perfect one for them, I hope you won’t be shy about reaching out. Who knows, if the right girl is out there, maybe I’ll be posting wedding videos for you to watch on my Facebook next year and grandbabies soon after!” Judging by her giggle, Maryetta probably already knew how Tank and Troy would feel about her sharing that news. “And if you are the lucky girl—I mean girls—I guess Tank and Troy will be in touch. Thank you so much for watching!”

  The image on the screen dimmed, Maryetta’s sweet smile frozen in place, and Jessica carefully handed the tablet back to Tank. “Were you worried what I’d think?”

  Resting his elbows on his knees, Troy kept his gaze on her and nodded. “We were afraid you might see it and think we approved of her doing this.”

  “What will you do when women start showing up in town? Any woman savvy in using social media could figure out where you’re located.” All it would take was a little sleuthing.

  “We made sure only our friends can see what we put up on social media, and we’ll deactivate our profiles if it becomes a problem.”

  Jessica drew a shaky breath. “I’ll bet your e-mail inboxes must be full by now.
And you probably have a zillion friend requests.”

  “We haven’t checked yet.”

  “Why? Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

  Tank’s unwavering gaze stayed on her as he rested a hand on her knee. “No.”

  “You should be,” she replied over the lump in her throat. “You deserve someone sweet, who isn’t all messed up.”

  Troy scoffed. “Who’s to say that we won’t find plenty of crazy in those e-mail responses, Jess?”

  Another headache began to throb in her temples, and when she put her hands up to rub them, Tank gently grasped them and put them on her knees. “Let me, honey.”

  His touch felt good. There was no denying that. She wasn’t scared of them, and his touch didn’t make her want to run as he stroked the pressure points, relieving the pain somewhat. Tank had migraines occasionally, and he definitely knew what he was doing. Troy’s hand was warm as it came to rest over her wringing hands. She kept her eyes closed and breathed deep.

  “Guys, I like being around you, but you don’t understand why I’m a bad bet. I still have flashbacks. I have PTSD, and I probably always will.”

  Tank made a soothing sound in his throat. Sort of a rasp, with a little bit of growl. “We understand flashbacks and PTSD. Not like what you’re dealing with, there’s no denying that, but we both served in the military and did tours in Iraq. We know what it’s like to wake up in a cold sweat and not know if you’re safe or not. The jumpiness…”

  “I’m still trying to find my new normal, guys. And I’m not sure I’m cut out for a relationship.”

  Troy encompassed her cold hands in his warm ones. “If you’re worried about what people might think—”

  “It’s not that, I promise. I know Divine is a safe place for ménages, and if there were ever two men who could convince any normal sane woman to try a ménage, it for sure would be the two of you. But I have triggers out the wazoo. I don’t...feel things the way I should.”