Roses & Thorns: Men Read online

  Roses & Thorns: Men

  Bry Ann

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  ROSES & THORNS: CONQUER

  Author Note

  Other Books

  Thank you so much for reading!

  ROSES & THORNS: Women

  This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN – 978-0-9995318-7-7

  To people who hide their secrets behind a front, but so desperately crave love.

  I hope you guys enjoy Roses & Thorns: Men!

  Lacey

  One Year Later

  Duck, Lacey. Duck.

  “Fuck!” I scream as Cut gets way too close to punching me square in the jaw. He should have never gotten that close. Fire builds in my veins. I go quickly from defense to offense. Cut’s a hard person to disarm, but he’s got weaknesses, one being that he hesitates to punch me, because I’m a woman. He’d never say it. He’d deny the morality of that until the cows come home, but I’ve fought with him every day for over a year now. He hesitates.

  His head rears back as I fly at him. He gets a couple of hits in, but a knee to the groin disarms him. As a result, I bop him once on the head, indicating I won. The second the ‘threat’ is neutralized, I take a step back and lean over my knees, trying to breathe. My air feels like it’s rattling as it goes in.

  “Never thought I’d say this,” Cut says between breaths, “I mean literally fucking never, but you push yourself too hard.”

  I look back over my shoulder toward him. I’m wearing a tank top and leggings. He and Adam are the only two people I will dress this way in front of. I’ve switched from solely sweatshirts to sweatshirts and zip-up hoodies. Adam helped me shop. I let him, but I have to wear long pants and some kind of jacket. No matter how strong I’m getting, the idea of someone seeing my scars sends pure panic through my veins.

  “I don’t,” I say, breath still rattling.

  Cut shakes his head. “Walk around the room. Get your heart rate down, then you can sit and have some water.”

  I do as he says. It helps. It always does. I do push-ups now. Real push-ups. For some reason, that was a huge mental struggle for me. I somehow tied being able to do push-ups to how weak I got the year I was tortured and imprisoned. Every time I couldn’t do something he asked, I damn near fell apart. I can do two sets of twenty-five regular ones now. I have to finish the rest on my knees, but I’ll get there.

  I’m sitting on the bench drinking water when Cut throws a long piece of foam at me.

  “Foam roll!”

  I hobble to the floor. “Alright.”

  I do as he says. Other than Adam, Cut’s my favorite person since Rose passed away. He’s helped keep me somewhat together, in his own way. Last year was hell. Losing my best friend, dealing with the aftermath of her death, nearly destroyed me. Somehow the lessons she imparted in her life helped me refocus. I found a way to survive: by giving myself a mission.

  Find her killer. Put him behind bars.

  I’m rolling out my hamstrings when Adam walks in. The air about him is heavy. He looks immaculately put together. He’s been working. All I want to do when I see him like this is go mess him up.

  His face softens when he sees me.

  “You look beat, little dove.”

  He still calls me that. It’s corny and weird, but it makes me feel special every time, especially when he says it in front of his friends.

  “I’m fine.”

  I don’t look at him as I say it. I focus solely on rolling out my calf. I hear him chuckle behind me. His large hand comes to my forehead to wipe back the sweaty hair there. He kisses me gently where my hair once was.

  “Love you,” he whispers.

  I feel my cheeks heat up.

  “Same,” I whisper back.

  I’m bad at saying I love you. I do sometimes, but he gets it. Sometimes I just freeze. I get scared. He never challenges me or takes offense to it. One thing I love most about him is that he’s rational. He thinks before he reacts. I need someone like that, because sometimes the things I do make no sense.

  “How was today?” Adam asks Cut in a low voice.

  “Good. She needs rest, food, protein specifically. Make sure she recovers. She pushes herself too hard.”

  “Lacey, no?”

  Even Cut laughs. It’s barely there, a whisper in the wind, but it happens. It never happens. Cut turns to me. I feel his eyes on me as I throw on my zip-up hoodie.

  “You don’t recover today, you don’t train tomorrow.” I’m notorious for not recovering right. I have stuff to do. I’m a busy person! I swirl around and gasp.

  “No! Please! You know I have to train!”

  “Then you’ll recover,” Cut says firmly.

  I stop talking. My head swirls. I shut down as I mindlessly throw the rest of my clothes on.

  “I need some training time, too,” I vaguely hear Adam say.

  “Alright. Come to one of Lacey’s sessions. I’ll throw you in, and we’ll train after.”

  With that, I hear Cut leave. I feel Adam come up behind me. He wraps his hands around my waist. I try to pull away.

  “I’m gross,” I say blankly. My voice sounds hollow.

  “Lacey, just eat some food and get some sleep, and he’ll train you. Don’t shut down on me.”

  “I’m not.”

  Adam spins me around. “Don’t lie.”

  I look away from him. “I have to train,” I whisper.

  His thumb traces my cheek. “I know. I’ll have Mirial make you some oatmeal and eggs.”

  “I can make it.”

  “You make a lot of meals here. Not to mention you clean up all your own shit. I’m sure she’d love to make breakfast for you, although the men will miss your cookies.”

  I always make them extras after I cook my own breakfast.

  “Really?” I lean forward on my toes, bouncing slightly.

  He taps my chin. “Yes, babe.”

  Adam pulls out his phone to text Mirial, I’m sure. As he pulls away, a dark cloud settles over me. Just like that.

  “I have to go work,” I mumble. “Tell Mirial I’ll come grab the food.Adam turns to me with a sad look on his face.

  “You’re still searching for her?” He asks softly.

  I explode. “Bodies don’t just disappear! I won’t let her father have that. She deserves to be buried. When I was sure I was going to die, all I hoped for was a burial. I didn’t want to disappear or be cremated like I didn’t matter. I wanted to matter, and she matters! Not to mention, I still have to get justice for her. The man who actually shot her is roaming free. Her father is rotting in prison for the rest of his life, whi
ch is perfect; death would be too easy. But I’m gonna be sure every last one of his men joins him! I need answers. He seemed to care about her to some degree. Why the hell would he kill her?!”

  I feel tears prick my eyes, but more than that, the all too familiar anger rattles inside me. Adam senses it. He comes over, holding my arms to my sides as I shake with silent fury.

  “Hey, do what you have to do,” he says softly. “I’ll have Mirial bring the food to you.”

  Because he knows exactly where I’ll be. The same place I’ve been for a year now. With nothing. No answers. Quietly, I walk from the room.

  “Lacey?” Adam calls.

  “Yeah?” I say, still facing away from him.

  “Shower first, babe. Please. Take care of yourself. At least somewhat.”

  I nod and walk out. Why is he still dealing with me? I’m a mess. I can’t be fixed. I take a cold shower. I do as he says. But then I make my way to the computer room. I tuck myself into the swivel chair with a fuzzy blanket draped around my legs.

  “Lacey?” I hear Mirial say as the computer screen lights up.

  “Yes?”

  “Your food, sweetheart.”

  I jump to my feet, nearly tripping over the blanket.

  “Right? Sorry. Thank you for bringing it up,” I say quietly.

  I move to grab the plate, but she swats me away and sets it on the table. I expect her to leave with a sad expression on her face like she usually does, but she doesn’t. Not this time.“I’m gonna touch you.”

  Everyone knows to warn me first.

  She grabs my shoulders and gently squeezes.

  “Losing someone hurts. I can’t imagine losing the only friend I had in such a troubled time.”

  She doesn’t know what happened to me. Just bits of it, and assumptions.

  “Now I didn’t know Rose well, and I’m not going to pretend to. But from what little I know about her, she’d want you to move on. She’d want you to be free. Honor her life by living, not seeking out revenge.”

  “Justice,” I amend. “The last thing I want is revenge. I just don’t want her death not to matter. It matters to me.”

  Mirial nods. “I understand miss, but let me tell you something, just one old woman to a girl whose life has barely begun: Sometimes the dead are happier than the living. Sometimes justice at the cost of some of our rare time on earth isn’t worth it. Leave it to the authorities. And you know the Boss will make sure they continue looking. Free yourself, doll. You’ve suffered enough.”

  I look down at my feet, tears leaking out.

  “I’m sorry, Mirial. I can’t. I respect you so much, and wish I could listen. You’re smarter and wiser than me, but… I can’t.”

  “I understand, pequeño. Now eat. Okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mirial nods sadly as I tuck myself back into my computer spot. I spend hours trying to find evidence, get names… I don’t know how I developed such a natural talent for hacking and computers, but I excel at it. Adam sometimes asks me to do stuff for him. Nothing crazy, nothing that I’d be against or that would trigger me, but he’ll ask, sheepishly, if I’ll help him out real quick. Then he’ll get all turned on and tell me how smart I am and fuck me. That’s pretty much how it goes.

  It’s taken me eight months of regular sex to not have flashbacks when he touches me, but it still takes me a bit to get into it. It’s still hard. It’s still tied to bad things, even though he makes me feel really good. What makes it great between us is, one, I love him. Two, he can read me really well. He always knows exactly when to stop, or when to keep going. I think that’s key.

  Seven hours later, Adam walks in, arms crossed over his chest.

  “Time’s up.”

  “No! I haven’t found anything.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  I bite my lower lip.

  “Yes.”

  “Other than breakfast eight hours ago?”

  “Okay… um…”

  “Have you moved from that chair since breakfast eight hours ago?”

  “Um….”

  “Come here.”

  “No.”

  I swivel my chair away. I hear him sigh. He comes over and swings my chair around, caging me in with his arms. When I look up, I expect to see anger there. It’s not like all the memories of what he did have left me. When I do look up, however, all I see is compassion.

  “Please come downstairs.”

  “I just have a couple—”

  “You always say that, and I’ve believed you for a year. But it’s time for me to start taking care of you.”

  “But you ar—”

  He holds up a hand. I clamp my mouth shut.

  “Letting you live behind a screen to avenge your dead friend is not taking care of you. It’s taking the easy way out.” “I’m not you! I can’t pretend she never died and do nothing!” He doesn’t react at all to my anger or outburst. He’s more than used to it by now. I’m a never-ending well of anger. I can’t stop it. I hate it, but it seems to be burrowed in my bones like a disease.

  “I’m not asking you to, but there has to be a middle ground here. Everyone’s worried about you.”

  “They shouldn’t be! No one cared when I was being ripped to shreds!” My eyes go wide. What is wrong with me today?“I’m sorry….” I say quickly, as I start to shake. “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just so…”

  “Shh…” Adam’s finger traces over my lips, “It’s okay, little dove. You have a right to be angry. Will you let me take care of you tonight? Just tonight. Tomorrow we can talk it over. Day by day.”

  I stare at him, vulnerable. He has a way of ripping apart every single one of my walls. No bomb needed. Just simple words.

  “Just today.” Immediately, the guilt starts to swell inside of me. My words say one thing, but I can’t get myself to move from this chair without feeling sick. Adam stares at me for a long time.

  “I’ll grab a movie and dinner. We can watch while you work a little bit.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He gets to the door and looks back.

  “I love you Lacey. Don’t forget that. People love you.”

  I know.

  I think.

  Sven

  “Get your fucking hands off me!” I roar, jerking my hand away.

  Frances sighs. “Man, what the fucking hell kind of drug are you on, now?”

  “None of your damn business! I do my job.”

  “Yeah, I’ll give you that, but you’re a nightmare to work with.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your touch. It’s your soul I have a problem with.”I shake my head.

  “Well, this isn’t Boy Scouts,” I snap as we walk in the door. “If you’re sensitive to my bad mood, go somewhere else!”

  I’m stomping down the hall to my room when I run straight into Lacey. I grumble. I’m in a shitty ass mood, and Lacey makes me think of Rose. I hate being around her for that. But, I promised myself I’d be nice to her, in honor of Rose. I haven’t done anything else Rose would have wanted. All I give a fuck about is escaping reality by whatever means necessary. Lacey is an exception.

  I don’t have it in me to hate the only other person who misses Rose like I do. Lacey’s interesting now. There’s an emptiness in her, one that has been torn open by Rose’s death. But there’s also a strength. One that wasn’t there before. She doesn’t show her weaknesses to anyone she doesn’t know. When Boss gets the balls to propose to her, there’ll be no question that she’s his wife. Our ruler. Queen. She already is. She carries that aura and is wickedly talented at nearly everything in this world that she tries. I wonder what her IQ is.

  “Sven,” Lacey says softly, studying my dilated pupils.

  “Lacey,” I nod, just wanting to get out of here. It’s awkward between us. I took her. Kidnapped her. But now we have common ground.“Good seeing you,” she mumbles, looking at her feet before scattering off.

  When she’s gone, I
run to my room and slam the door. Fuck all of this. Not even ten minutes later, there is pounding on my door. I roll my eyes. Only one person pounds like that. Boss.

  I open up lazily before strolling back to lie on my bed.

  “I did my job,” I grumble.

  “You know you’re doing shit wrong if you have to defend yourself before I even speak.”

  He’s right. I don’t reply.

  “What are you taking?”

  Don’t reply.

  “Sven,” he growls, “I’m being lenient as hell with you. Men would be dead for way less. What the actual fuck are you taking?”

  Damn it, Lacey. I know she’s the one who stuck him on me with her stupid fucking bullshit worry.

  “Whatever I can get my hands on!” I scream, throwing a pillow over my head.

  “You’re fucking Underboss! You can get your hands on a whole hell of a lot. I want specifics.”

  “Mainly alcohol,” I say honestly. “The occasional drug, if it’s a particularly shitty day.”

  I move the pillow and sit up. Boss nods like he understands.

  “This damn girl,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You need help, Sven. I sure as fuck don’t know why, but I’ve come to consider you a friend. That said, I’ll use discretion.”

  Immediately, I spring out of bed.

  “Discretion?”

  “You need help,” Boss repeats, not at all fazed by my anger.

  “You and your help can go fuck themselves!”

  I wince slightly. He could totally kill me for that.

  “Watch it,” he warns. “You’re a friend. I’m lenient. Doesn’t mean I won’t kill you if you cross a line.”