Soldiers of Pearl 5: Give Love a Chance (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Soldiers of Pearl 5: Give Love a Chance

  Cynthia’s world is falling apart. She's lost her brother, Michael, and must now pay his debt and handle the bills he's left behind. She’s tired of being hurt by men she loves but still wants to protect Michael’s reputation even in death.

  A group of Michael's friends, Perkins, Dugen, Karl, and Merlin, have taken it upon themselves to watch out for Cynthia and act as her guardians until they can claim her as their own. They see her struggling and want to take care of her, but she resists the desire to entertain an attraction to them because she doesn't want to open her heart and get hurt.

  When drug dealers threaten her life to pay off Michael’s debt, she is forced to clean up the mess once again. It may just cost her everything she has, but if she would only give love a chance it might turn around for her.

  Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Romantic Suspense

  Length: 38,235 words

  SOLDIERS OF PEARL 5:

  GIVE LOVE A CHANCE

  Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  SOLIDERS OF PEARL 5: GIVE LOVE A CHANCE

  Copyright © 2015 by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-713-7

  First E-book Publication: September 2015

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Soldiers of Pearl 5: Give Love a Chance by Dixie Lynn Dwyer from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Dixie Lynn Dwyer’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Dixie Lynn Dwyer’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  Dear Readers,

  Thank you for purchasing this legal copy of Give Love a Chance.

  Death is part of life, and many times, the things we’ve wanted to tell the people we love go unsaid. Sometimes, as the loved ones who survive, we feel responsible, and especially when the death is sudden and tragic.

  Cynthia feels responsible for her brother’s death. She wants his friends, his fellow Marines, as well as the community to remember him for the good things he had done. For the service to his country and for the true hero he was.

  When his poor decisions don’t die along with him, Cynthia becomes the victim and is forced to repay debts that aren’t her own. She allows his burdens to become hers, and they nearly cost her everything.

  She must learn to trust the men who want to love her, and put aside the guilty feelings of failing Michael, and instead, embrace four Marines who are alive and well and ready to keep her safe and happy.

  May you enjoy her journey and her struggle to give love a chance and to realize that it is important to love and embrace the ones who are alive and well, and find closure in forgiving the mistakes of those who have passed.

  Happy reading.

  Hugs!

  ~Dixie~

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  SOLIDERS OF PEARL 5: GIVE LOVE A CHANCE

  DIXIE LYNN DWYER

  Copyright © 2015

  Chapter 1

  Cynthia Loft sat on the porch swing looking out toward the fields. Her heart was heavy, her chest so full of emotions she had trouble taking a breath. She couldn’t stop thinking about Michael. About losing the only brother she had. It had only been a month since his funeral. Sure, she had her cousins—Luke, Ryan, Portland, and Shiloh—but they hadn’t needed her like Michael had.

  She looked down at her phone. A missed call from that number again. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone? She wasn’t the one who bought drugs and was an addict. Michael was. Why was his debt now hers when he was dead?

  She exhaled, knowing the reason. God, she had been so angry with Michael when she found out he hadn’t paid off the mortgage but, instead, had taken a loan against it. She had yelled at him and told him that she hated him when she found out why he had done it. Drugs. Heroin was addictive immediately. One time. One hit, one pill, one injection. However it was consumed, it was over.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she hugged her legs against her chest. She was too embarrassed to tell her friends about this situation. She was lonely, feeling empty and unsure, and she wished that she could talk to Michael. Why hadn’t he come to her at the clinic when he felt so desperate he’d turned to drugs to ease the pain? She could have hooked him up with the best doctors, ones trained to help treat posttraumatic stress instead of masking the effects with narcotics. He didn’t need that shit to keep the ghosts at bay. He’d changed before her eyes. He’d lied to her. He’d abused her trust and broken her heart, making her feel as if she could never trust a man again. Never trust anyone like she had trusted Michael.

  On a daily basis she came in contact with retired vets, men and women in need of everyth
ing from guidance in getting rid of their anxiety and fears to talking them down from suicide. She could have saved him.

  She wiped her eyes and begged for the ache to stop. Losing her brother to the motorcycle accident had been a shock. She hadn’t thought anything could kill him. Not the drinking, the speeding, the PTSD he suffered from. Nothing. He’d always told her that everything would be okay and that he would watch over her.

  Why hadn’t she seen the signs? It wasn’t as if they hung out constantly, but they did see one another a lot. He’d crashed here more often than not. He’d never brought any women here either. He respected her. He wanted her to see him as the Marine, the soldier, and the brother who was her protector. He’d failed. All those years growing up in a household filled with violence and drugs and he wound up going down that path, too.

  She couldn’t help but to shiver at the memories. Her father was in the army. After retiring, he became a monster. But she knew from the moment he’d arrived home that he wasn’t the same man. It was confirmed two weeks later when one shot from his fist sent their mom to the floor unconscious.

  Cynthia cried a little harder—remembering the scene so clearly.

  He apologized after blaming it on her mom. Cynthia cried that day, and her father saw her, and she knew, in that moment, that he wasn’t her father anymore. She wanted nothing to do with military men, with anyone in the military period. Especially after she took a hit from him two weeks later. He hadn’t known his strength. He struck her in rage, in one of his out-of-mind experiences, and as his fist hit her jaw, she went flying backward into the small coffee table, flipped over it, and broke her arm.

  Michael attacked him as their mom called 911.

  From there on out, Michael was her protector, her family, her best friend, her everything. He’d changed, too.

  She missed her mom even now. Not that she’d been a strong woman. She didn’t keep the family together. She wound up an emotional cripple and leaned on Cynthia for support and for care. The roles reversed, and Cynthia took care of her parents until her father died of a drug overdose and her mom died because she gave up on life and her heart failed.

  Why hadn’t she seen the signs that Michael was in trouble? That he was on something like drugs or weed or something? Or had she been blind to it because she knew others around the town that dealt with their anxieties and adaptation to civilian life so differently? Could she have done more? Could his friends have since they hung out with him more often?

  She thought about their friends, the ones who had become like family, and when she did, she couldn’t help but feel angry. But it wasn’t Perkins’s, Dugen’s, Merlin’s, or Karl’s fault that Michael died. They weren’t with him that night, but they were his friends. And they hung out from time to time. Didn’t any of them see the changes in Michael? God, it wasn’t their fault either, so she didn’t know why she was still looking for logical reasons to justify failing Michael. It was Michael’s fault as he tested fate, risked life just to feel the adrenaline rush that would wipe out the paranoia he felt from his PTSD.

  She slammed her fists down on the couch she sat on. She looked around the room that was filled with furniture yet made her feel empty and alone.

  She feared that damn disease, and anyone who suffered from it. It seemed to her that about eighty percent of the men she knew who were soldiers suffered from the freaking disease. It wasn’t fair. Hadn’t they all sacrificed enough?

  The tears slowly leaked from her eyes, and her heart ached. She was alone, and she hated being alone. She couldn’t help but wonder if her life would get all fucked up, too. Would she go into a state of depression? Would she turn to drugs or something else? She didn’t want to. Was it genetic? Did she have a chance if she fought for a better life? Could she do that alone? She’d turned out to be stronger than her mother in so many ways, but seeing how Michael faltered as he did, and he’d been a Marine, how the hell would she stay sane and out of trouble?

  She was scared and trying to hide it from everyone.

  Especially at night, when the old house creaked and moaned and she swore she heard footsteps on the front porch. Add in the fact that some drug-dealing morons from New Jersey felt she now owed her brother’s debt, and yeah, she was anticipating an attack, a break-in, or worse. But whom could she tell? It was embarrassing, and the news would destroy Michael’s reputation even in death. Hell, it would destroy her reputation when all she was trying to do was survive. It wasn’t easy lying to her friends.

  Wasn’t her life depressing and shitty enough? She needed Raul bugging her for the rest of the money too?

  She fought the depressive feelings and reached for the pile of mail on the small table. Sundays sucked.

  She glanced at the bills and then a post card advertising an upcoming event in Pearl. She should go to it, mix and mingle with friends and pretend that life went on. But then she thought about the debt she owed to the men from New Jersey. Life wasn’t fair.

  She didn’t have to be at the clinic, working the front desk and handling patients. It was only part time, and she needed something else to do, but what?

  She thumbed through the mail. Tears filled her eyes once again. More mail for Michael. Another note she would have to write telling someone that her brother hadn’t moved but was no longer living on this earth. She threw the envelopes down, snagged a tissue from the tissue box, and cried. She was alone and hated it.

  She laid her head down on the small decorative pillow and crunched her legs to her chest as she closed her eyes. She didn’t know what she was going to do with her life now. Her heart felt broken, absent from her body, and she just wanted to forget it all and start all over.

  * * * *

  Perkins called Cynthia’s name numerous times as he stood by her front door. She hadn’t shown up with Georgia or Maggie to come to the party. He knew that she was aware of it. The whole crew did, but her friends said they hadn’t talked to her and just assumed she would be there.

  He and his friends were concerned. She was their responsibility now whether she realized it or not. They were starting the process of staking a claim and making sure every man knew that Cynthia was their woman. They spoke with Wyatt Cantrell, the sheriff, and the man in charge of the process. They told men in their groups that they would take care of Cynthia, watch over her, and be her guardians. They even mentioned to her that they cared and wanted to help her, and that she was to call them if she needed anything at all. She hadn’t seemed to read the signs or get the hint. Maybe she was still so distraught over Michael’s death that she couldn’t focus?

  Maybe she had fears about him and the rest of the team. They did have their issues.

  He heard the thunder in the distance and knew a storm was coming. It was getting dark out, as well, so the party would move indoors soon.

  He walked around to the back of her small house. He was surprised to see there weren’t any lights on in the house, and then he caught sight of her. Cynthia was curled up in a ball on the wicker love seat, appearing childlike. She looked so petite.

  “Cynthia?” he whispered as he opened the porch door and gently let it close. Well as gently as he could considering he was six feet three and had to turned sideways just to get through the small doorway.

  He couldn’t help but to be both concerned and angry that she left the door unlocked. Anyone could have entered. But then he heard the sounds coming from her.

  She was moaning in her sleep.

  His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he took in the curves of her body.

  Her breasts were pouring from the flimsy tank top she wore, and her short shorts rose up high, exposing her long, tan thighs.

  She looked sexy as damn hell but also fragile at the same time. His protective instincts kicked in as he saw the tissues crumpled up on the table and the mail. She had been crying.

  He damned Michael again for being such a self-centered jerk. He’d known Cynthia needed him, yet he acted so recklessly. He hurt her with his actions and eve
n when she begged for him to seek help but wouldn’t. Look what it had cost her.

  He approached slowly. “Cynthia, it’s Perkins, honey. Wake up,” he whispered.

  He caressed her hair from her cheek as he knelt down in the small space between the love seat and the little table.

  She jerked upward, shoving back against the wicker love seat and looking out of it. Her eyes were wide, and she placed a hand over her heart in shock. He covered her knee.

  “It’s okay, honey. I’m sorry that I scared you. I called your name several times, but you couldn’t hear me.” He cleared his throat. He knew he had a deep, rough voice, and it seemed to scare Cynthia because she was shaking.

  The thunder boomed, making her flinch. He felt it beneath his hand still against her skin. He looked her over. He couldn’t help himself. She was so damn appealing and beautiful.

  As if his touch bothered her, she sat upright, causing his hand to fall from her silky skin. He slowly stood up then sat down beside her as she ran her fingers through her hair and adjusted her tank top. The view was still shockingly amazing. She was built to please a man like him, and his team.

  Dugen, Merlin, and Karl would be just as concerned over Cynthia, especially if they knew she’d been crying.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, moving a handful of her brown hair over her shoulder as she shyly looked at him. Those hooded, passive eyes made his cock harden and his desire to taste her come close to reaching the breaking point.