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  Sons of Justice 12: Confident in Love

  Avana is doing what she can to gain self-confidence, including self-defense training, but when push comes to shove, she finds strength where she least expects it. Meeting and falling in love with sexy, very handsome, capable, intimidating soldiers has taught her a lot. They adore her, build up her confidence, and make her feel like she can do just about anything. Happiness is at her fingertips but not for long.

  When a serial killer sets his sights on her and abducts her, she nearly gives up, gives into the pain of her injuries and the fears of listening to a sick, twisted killer make promises of torture and pain. Then, she reminds herself that she isn’t that same, scared victim from the past, but a well-trained woman, loved and encouraged by six capable soldiers.

  She vows to fight, to live, or die trying.

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

  Length: 48,356 words

  SONS OF JUSTICE 12:

  CONFIDENT IN LOVE

  Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  SONS OF JUSTICE 12: CONFIDENT IN LOVE

  Copyright © 2017 by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  ISBN: 978-1-64010-830-1

  First Publication: December 2017

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2017 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.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at

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  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  Dear readers,

  Thank you for purchasing this legal copy of Confident in Love.

  Life can be filled with obstacles. Making bad choices, or lacking in self-confidence, can make it even more difficult. Learning from mistakes can change a path in life, but sometimes you need a little push, some support, and a boost to that self-confidence.

  Avana is trying to survive, while dealing with decisions form her past and the mistakes she made getting caught up in an abusive relationship.

  Sure, trust doesn’t come easy. When does it when you experienced betrayal and pain? What she didn’t count on was the love, the support, honesty, and protection of six SoJ soldiers. Just because she feels the attraction, doesn’t mean she’s going to make it easy for them.

  May you enjoy her journey.

  Happy reading!

  HUGS!

  Dixie

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  People seem to be more interested in my name than where I get my ideas for my stories from. So I might as well share the story behind my name with all my readers.

  My momma was born and raised in New Orleans. At the age of twenty, she met and fell in love with an Irishman named Patrick Riley Dwyer. Needless to say, the family was a bit taken aback by this as they hoped she would marry a family friend. It was a modern day arranged marriage kind of thing and my momma downright refused.

  Being that my momma’s families were descendants of the original English speaking Southerners, they wanted the family blood line to stay pure. They were wealthy and my father’s family was poor.

  Despite attempts by my grandpapa to make Patrick leave and destroy the love between them, my parents married. They recently celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary.

  I am one of six children born to Patrick and Lynn Dwyer. I am a combination of both Irish and a true Southern belle. With a name like Dixie Lynn Dwyer it’s no wonder why people are curious about my name.

  Just as my parents had a love story of their own, I grew up intrigued by the lifestyles of others. My imagination as well as my need to stray from the straight and narrow made me into the woman I am today.

  Enjoy Confident in Love and allow your imagination to soar freely.

  For all titles by Dixie Lynn Dwyer, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/dixie-lynn-dwyer

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  Landmarks

  Cover

  SONS OF JUSTICE 12:

  CONFIDENT IN LOVE

  DIXIE LYNN DWYER

  Copyright © 2017

  Prologue

  He was breathing heavily now, revisiting the anticipation he had when he’d hunted his last prey. Long gone, time now drifting from weeks to months—it still felt recent, yet shadowed by his rage. He looked at the picture. Once such a beautiful specimen, but nothing like what he had envisioned her to realistically be, nor could he make her into what he wanted and needed. That was fine. He was long past searching for perfection. It didn’t exist. Not in his original prey, couples who appeared to be perfect, entranced, consumed by one another. No, they turned out to be more trouble than he wanted or needed. Besides, they didn’t even give him the answers to his questions and he was forced to kill them anyway.

  He dropped the picture back into the box and took another. The uniform grabbed his attention right away. A symbol of discipline, power, resourcefulness, and capabilities he surely could overpower. Hell, he’d proven he could. He smirked. Plus, women were drawn to men in uniform.

  His research didn’t really give him information, or at least not the amount he desired. Although it did show him that a soldier was willing to do whatever was necessary to protect his woman. He never got that. Never understood it. When doing so, that soldier failed to remember the simple rules of engagement. Never turn your back on the enemy. Never try to negotiate when you hold not the cards nor the power in your hands. Ultimately soldiers were weak, why? The women they screwed. They weakened their loins, they made them think of one thing only. Even as they faced death by his hands, their eyes went to their woman, seeing her face, her damaged body, and whispering, “I’m sorry.” That was only if they could.

  He thought after the trail of bodies he left behind that he was done killing. Done needing to know the answers to all his questions. Done eliminating the feelings of inadequacy he’d had for some time. It was in the past. He could live a normal life. He’d gotten away with it. All of it. All those dead women. All those initial kills on couples when he was new at finally acting out his fantasies. Now, he had a different way of fulfilling that need he had. He realized watching wasn’t as good as or satisfying as participating. Hell, he held life in his hands. He could give pleasure and he could inflict pain. It aroused him to be able to do both.

  He felt that sensation, that need growing strong. He glanced at the calendar and then the time. In fact, he needed to head
out to the farm. She had to be hungry by now. She was growing weaker. Her resilience no match for his games, his salacious appetite. It was time to dispose of her. He was losing interest for multiple reasons. He wore a disguise, a mask, and sometimes costumes when he played. He was beginning to enjoy the hunt, the prey, the game, more than the sexual power he obtained taking whatever he wanted from them. His mind was becoming more and more complex. Planning, fantasizing, creating the ultimate fantasy to become a new goal to achieve.

  Again, he thought of her. Why? Because his eyes kept landing on a woman he was drawn to but didn’t fit the others. Not by a long shot.

  He clenched his teeth, exhaled, and shook his head. He couldn’t understand it. Wrap his mind around it at all. She was so different. Gorgeous, sweet, submissive, controllable, and really didn’t seem to have that spunk of defiance and courage like the others. It frazzled his mind, made him think of her too many times a day, too often at night, and he started planning, developing games in his head to take her. It would be different. It would be time-consuming. He would have to be very, very careful.

  It frustrated him as he looked back to his box of treasures.

  Why did he take this box out tonight? Why go back in time and think of how he started, what he developed, and how he evaded capture? Hell, he knew how he evaded capture. He had once been a soldier, prior to a Boy Scout, an outdoorsman, and capable man, incapable of becoming the hunted, always the hunter. Apparently not good enough in the eyes of his commanders to force him to leave. Dishonorable discharge. Hah.

  The serge of power and confidence oozed through his pores. No one was smarter than him. The game he played now, the role completely different than who he really was, helped to keep him safe. It was his disguise, his camouflage now, instead of that uniform. Instead of the orders, the constant demands to do, do, do, no matter what the sacrifice might mean. He was in charge. He was a soldier, a commando, and unstoppable weapon. If his commanders could see him now they would beg for his return. He would have been their perfect secret weapon. A man capable of hiding in plain sight.

  Confidence oozed through his veins and he smirked to himself. He laughed. “Idiots.”

  She popped into his head. “Fuck.”

  Why did he keep going to her? Why was she becoming a symbol of the ultimate hunt? She didn’t fit into the scheme of things. Everything would need to change, his life, his freedom, because he would need to disappear with her. Why was he formulating a fantasy, a plan, a new intricate game where he got to act out those new fantasies and feel relief? He exhaled then stood up. “I cannot play this game. Not here. I’m not ready yet. If I take her, it has to be forever.” To disappear to that place where all the secrets lay. Where memories are hidden within the ears and eyes of the walls, the structure of that cabin and where no one would ever know what took place there. No one. There was so much to get done first. It was two hours away and it would take time to get everything he needed there. The supplies, getting the traps set up around the perimeter, surveillance video readjusted and activated, so much to do. He started to tap his finger on the table. “No. No, I am not doing this.”

  He heard the grandfather clock chime and knew he needed to head to work. He shook in anger, frustration, and want. He needed to go to the cabin. He could get rid of these needs, this rage, and then dispose of her body. A clean slate meant clean thoughts. He could wipe away the pain, the memories of the past, the acts of terror he committed. Just wipe them clean and focus on the here and now. That cabin was only thirty minutes away, and not so hidden, but that was part of the game he played with this woman. Once again needing to be hidden, yet right there. A perfect spy and soldier.

  The young woman popped into his head and he gripped his face and head and roared. “No. Focus. Focus!” He pushed aside that yearning sensation that was building inside of him, that grew every time he saw her, but he fought it. Would continue to fight it. This wasn’t the place. Perhaps he needed a weekend at the club. There he could get off on his desires, his needs, but wouldn’t take it too far. Yes, that was the perfect solution, and if he called and booked the room, and Ella, then perhaps he could push aside the desire for this woman he couldn’t have, and get what he needed physically, emotionally from a night with Ella in the dungeon. Could it help him get through this, or would he need to feel life in his hands again and again and again? He felt so strong, so invincible in that moment, and it helped him focus and try to live a normal life in his disguise. Would torturing Ella in the club be enough, or would he need more? Would he need her, the woman he thought about more and more, and in which he knew would eventually consume him to hysteria?

  * * * *

  Tat held Talia tight as he hugged her in bed. “Are you okay? No headache?” he asked, out of breath from making love to her. He caressed the hair from her cheeks and held her head between his forearms while lifting his body halfway over her as not to crush the woman. She was panting still, and held his gaze.

  “No headache. No pain, Tat, I swear,” she said. He gave a soft smile. She had been hiding the continued aches and pains for weeks now, and then he caught a conversation she had with Marianna over the phone a few days ago.

  They were discussing the martial arts training, and Talia said she really wished she weren’t in so much pain all the time, and that her head hurt constantly and her back and shoulder from the stitches upset her. She hadn’t confided in them. She kept telling them she was getting better.

  He stroked her cheek.

  “There’s no rush to get better. You need to let your body recover, to heal. You need to let your mind, the fears, recover, too.”

  “I know,” she said and turned away.

  It was obvious that talking about the injuries from her attack upset her, and his concern seemed to annoy her. He figured she was frustrated. He understood that, and he felt frustrated, too, just as the rest of the team did because when she hurt, they hurt.

  “Talia.” He lifted up and she looked back at him.

  “You say you know, yet you refuse to talk with that counselor. The team and I think you should talk to her. I don’t want to order it, but as your guardians, our job is to protect you, provide for you, love you, and keep you safe. I think you need to reconsider the counseling.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled as she shook her head side to side and tried to push up as if she could get him to retreat. “Is this what making love to me today was all about? Your control of me, and what you want? What you think I should have?”

  “Talia,” he reprimanded. She was doing it again. Trying to push him away. Minimize her pain, her sadness, and he wouldn’t accept that. He loved her.

  “No, Tat. I’m not as weak as you think I am. It’s getting late. Nathan, Spade, Cole, Woodrow, Bronco, and Frankie are going to be here in just a couple of hours, as well as my other friends. I need to help in the kitchen and to make that cake.”

  “We’re taking care of everything in the kitchen.”

  “I said I wanted to make the cake.” She raised her voice and then cringed.

  He felt his nostrils flare as he exhaled and caressed her cheeks. He stroked her breast, cupping it as he leaned on his left side watching her.

  “You can make the cake. I said I would help, but you’re not exactly supposed to be moving around so much.”

  “It helps me to not be so sore. You kept me prisoner long enough. I need to feel normal. I need to be around my friends in a happy environment, and not them visiting me while I sit or lay on the couch in pain.”

  He stroked her cheek, stared into her gorgeous, defiant blue eyes.

  “All right, let’s head into the shower, but I want you to realize that what you went through was traumatic. The pain you feel is normal and takes time.”

  “Let me up, please. I need to shower and get ready,” she said to him.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Vacarro said, joining them in the bedroom. Talia smiled at him. Tat reached up and stroked her jaw so she would look at him. />
  “I want you to rest before everyone shows up.”

  “I will. I’m excited to see my friends, and to have them all get to know my brother. They didn’t really get to talk to him and the team while I was in the hospital recovering.”

  “I know you are excited, so we better get that shower going,” Vacarro said as Tat lifted up to get off the bed and reached a hand out to Talia. When she got up, she squeezed her eyes tight a moment and teetered. He cursed under his breath and held her. She caressed his shoulders and arm.

  “I’m fine. You know that happens when I get up too quickly. All the blood rushes to my head. It happens to people, Tat,” she snapped at him, but she must have seen his jaw tense because she pressed her lips to his chest gently as he ran his palm along her ass cheek, and his other arm down her thin arm. She was fragile, delicate and feminine, and he wanted to wrap her up in a protective shield to prevent her from feeling pain ever again.

  “Come on, gorgeous. A shower and then I’m helping you bake that cake.”

  “You are?” she asked Vacarro, reaching out to him as Tat let her go.

  He snagged her around the waist and pulled her close, placing his hand on her ass. “And if you tell a soul, there’ll be hell to pay, woman,” he said, and gave her ass a spank, then slid a finger down the crack of her ass to her pussy.

  “Vacarro!” she reprimanded and pulled back, then turned her and they headed toward the bathroom. Tat wanted to smile, but his concern over Talia was consuming his every thought.

  “Hey, Falzone called and wants you to call him back. He and the team are in Louisiana, they landed two days ago after months in Guam. He needs to talk to you about something,” Vacarro said before he disappeared into the bathroom with Talia.