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  Sons of Justice 10: Deliver Us from Evil

  Talia isn't looking for a miracle, she just wants to be safe from the evil preying on her life and a destiny that seems inevitable to avoid. Three years have passed and, of course, the moment she lets her guard down and meets four amazing men, that evil gets closer to finding her.

  The love and the attraction is instant between Talia, Spadaro, Tat, Vacarro, and Basile, so when they are ordered to stand down and not pursue a romance with Talia, no one expects them to deny that order and love her anyway. As she shares her story, her past and the danger lurking closer, she wonders if the men will be her saving grace, or if leaning on them for protection will send them to their graves.

  Can she take a chance anyway, or does her destiny lay in another man's power? Or has the power to destroy the evil been with her all along?

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

  Length: 53,325 words

  SONS OF JUSTICE 10: DELIVER

  US FROM EVIL

  Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  SONS OF JUSTICE 10: DELIVER US FROM EVIL

  Copyright © 2017 by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  ISBN: 978-1-64010-754-0

  First Publication: November 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 Deliver Us from Evil.

  Talia has been through a traumatic experience. Others might have given up, remained in hiding, or just hoped to one day be free, she didn’t. She fought for a better life, trained and prepared for the chance that her enemy, the danger would one day be at her doorstep once again. Her strength and determination prepared her for every challenge, except the one she never counted on or prepared for. Falling in love. Opening up her heart. Trusting someone fully other then herself.

  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 Deliver Us from Evil 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

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Landmarks

  Cover

  SONS OF JUSTICE 10:

  DELIVER US FROM EVIL

  DIXIE LYNN DWYER

  Copyright © 2017

  Prologue

  “I will always be a part of you, Natalia. In every breath you take, every decision you make. We’re one. I own you, your body, your life, your soul. Don’t you realize that?” he asked her while stroking her hair.

  She shivered in fear, the days and nights she longed to have him close, to protect her from the vile men who sought revenge against her father, gone. She had been fooled by him. By his good looks, his dark, mysterious expressions, and the power he emitted to those around him. Natalia learned too late about the true criminal foundation of her father’s business connections and life. That she was sold to this man, only for him to manipulate her mind and possess her body as his own treasure and possession.

  “I’m never letting you go, Natalia. You have no life, no future without me. Can’t you see that? Why are you trying to leave me?” he asked.

  “It’s over, Barishna. You never really loved me—you just wanted to use me to control my father, to get what you wanted, a part in his company dealings or whatever it is he’s involved in. I won’t be part of it. I won’t be an object.”

  He gripped her throat, and she couldn’t do a thing. Not with her hands tied to the top of the bedposts. Not with his large, heavy, capable body straddling her waist.

  He stared at her and shook his head.

  “You have no choice. I say when it is over, and that is never. Never will you be in another man’s arms, in another man’s bed. Never will you spread these thighs, prepare this body for any other man but me. Never,” he stated firmly and tore her top open.

  She cried out. “No. You can’t force me to love you. To be with you and feel what I used to feel before I learned the truth.”

  “I’ll come for you. I will find you. I’ll take what’s mine, and we’ll be together again. The truth? You want the truth? I own you. I played your father well, and I got everything I wanted and more. You are my ultimate prize,” he said and lowered down to kiss her neck, to suckle her breast, tug on her nipple, and try to manipulate her, control her, show ownership of her. She shook her head side to side.

  “I hate you.”

  He rose up, his palm at her throat and chin, controlling her. Her head tilted back and her torso lifted up as he squeezed.

  “I gave you life, and I can give you death. You remember that always Natalia. Always. You live a life young women fantasize about.”

  “A life as a prisoner? I think not,” she replied through clenched teeth, only for him to squeeze a little firmer, forcing her to submit to his power, abuse, and control. She was d
one with this life. With feeling like an object, a display trophy and kept woman. She’d rather die than let him inside of her body again.

  He shook his head. “Your defiance needs to be dealt with accordingly.” He raised his arm, and she thought he would begin to strike her, beat her into submission as he had done before, but instead he pulled the knife from the waist of his pants “I will always own you,” he said and squeezed her throat tighter, then released it, and slowly glided his palm down her chest. Over her breast, to her hip, before he slid his fingers lower between her legs while he stared at her.

  That expression of power over her life, over causing her death, made her fear this man and beg for mercy. He was evil, so evil. “Please,” she barely could get out, as she begged to not be cut by the knife.

  He slid the knife along her breast to her ribs. She dared not move.

  “I will ensure you’re mine forever.” He lifted the knife sharp enough to pinch her skin. With his other hand, he tried to stimulate her body for his taking.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was helpless, a prisoner of this man and his agenda. He did own her body, but she would be damned if she allowed him to own her mind and her soul. What could she do though? He was more powerful. He was everywhere. Knew her every move, who she was with, who looked at her with desire, and those men suffered. Some more than others. No, she was stuck in this life.

  These things shouldn’t happen here in the United States, in a country that was to protect its citizens, but they did. It was happening, and she was a slave, sold to her father’s worst enemy, and with every stroke, freedom slipped from her grasp, and she relinquished control to her owner. Then the blade of the knife cut into her skin, and the burning pain had her screaming in terror as Barishna scarred her for life.

  Talia struggled to breathe, gasping, holding onto her chest as she heaved so deeply, eyes wide, fear gripping her so tight she thought she might die from this episode. She rolled to the side of the bed, knocked over the bottle of water, and made the lamp wobble on its base as she grabbed the brown paper bag and brought it to her lips as she scrunched the top. She unsuccessfully tried to breathe into it, her hand shaking, her body trembling as sweat drenched her clothing. In and out, the tightness felt deep, and she wondered if she had finally come to a point of no return. When would she be safe? When would Bronco call with news of Barishna’s death? When?

  She continued to breathe into the bag. Slowly, oh so very slowly her lungs began to open, her inhales became fuller and fuller, and soon the sensations of being unable to breathe rescinded, along with the feel of his hands squeezing the life from her and the burning pain as he cut the letter B into her skin. She ran her palm along her neck and continued to just breathe. She felt that exhausted feeling as she eased onto the rug by her bed, folded her hands, bowed her head, and prayed. “Please, God, please, never let him find me. Never let his hands touch me, his evilness control me again. Please, God, please, deliver me from this evil, and let me find happiness once and for all.”

  The sound of her phone alarm going off forced her back and to put the nightmare behind her. A strong, professional woman, quiet, reserved, smiling as often as she could, but underneath, she lived each day with a fear so great not even her friends knew about it. Well, Spartan knew, and Antonia did, but that was because Cesar knew, and a few times Talia had to meet him, and they didn’t want anyone questioning why, or to think something was going on between the two of them. No, instead, he had become a good friend, and even now, as she looked at her cell phone from last night, she saw his messages of concern for her. Cesar knew what she was going through, and having so many friends who recently were involved in dangerous life-threatening situations, she was extra sensitive and fearful. So much so that she had a bit of an attitude. Especially with that one guy, that soldier Spadaro. He and his other team members—all psycho-looking, antisocial specialists in destruction, chaos, and death—intimidated her and also scared her. Thank God as soon as Merica was safe, Spadaro, Tat, Basile, and Vacarro were called off to some top-secret Sons of Justice mission. A month had passed. A whole month since the last chaotic scene of danger close to home.

  She reached for the phone, turned off the alarm, and then leaned back against the bed. She looked around her town house. Two years here, and still no feelings of home, of belonging. Why? Because Barishna was still out there, evading capture and doing his thing. Her brother believed that Barishna changed his identity and altered his appearance. She knew him pretty well. The man was obsessed with how he looked. A narcissistic asshole, he had been so critical of his body, his looks, his possessions, and she was right there at the top of the list. Her body had to be perfect. It still was.

  She maintained perfection, the well-groomed body fit for a king, yet she didn’t have any lovers but Barishna. Did she keep a smooth pussy for him? No, she didn’t want to believe that she still feared the possibility that he could find her again, take her back and far away from anyone she knew or loved. There was that chance, and if he did come, then perhaps his anger would be less knowing she still followed his rules he had established for her body.

  She shook the thoughts from her head and forced herself to believe she did it for other reasons. To perhaps engage in sex with someone else. Some other man she could find release in, to use for pleasure and to forget. Who was she kidding? She could never let another man touch her, show affection toward her. She wasn’t capable. She was broken, not whole, not unscarred. Despite all she had done in the last two years to try to strengthen herself overall.

  She worked out hard, especially doing self-defense and martial arts, at a place two towns over with Cole’s cousin Frankie. Her brother’s friend, Bronco, was still chasing a shadow, never getting close enough, always steps behind Barishna, and one time a year and a half ago, a block away, he saw Barishna in Brazil. Caught sight of Barishna getting into the black car with the dark tinted windows with his entourage of security. Bronco and his team nearly died. Barishna got away. If she lost Bronco, she was screwed. It was bad enough she hadn’t seen her brother, Nathan, in more than three years. How unfair, but they didn’t have a choice. He feared he was being watched, despite his involvement in the military, and even as a Green Beret like Bronco, he couldn’t do a thing to find Barishna. No, the man was always so smart. Too smart to be found and caught. Bronco and Nathan were working together with Bronco’s team of Berets, to locate Barishna. Cole, Woodrow, Spade, Bronco, and her brother, Nathan, were a team, working together, pursuing leads to destroy Barishna. She didn’t think they would ever be successful.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and couldn’t help but feel the imaginary restraints that once tied her down to a bed in a villa in Sienna, Italy. A country, a land so beautiful, so romantic and luxurious that she was saddened to never be able to visit again. To never see the museums, the centuries’ old artwork, and even take a stroll down the village streets or in the gardens she once did on a daily basis. Those days of freedom, of living a fantasy life and dream, were over. Here she was in the United States in Texas. A fake last name and a fake set of college records, all to keep her hidden. What were the chances that Barishna would ever find her in Repose, Texas? Probably not as slim as she wanted to believe, which was why every night she had a panic attack. Every goddamn night.

  Instead she established her investments through middlemen, by way of online business firms and investment corporations. She spent the better part of three years trying to get her life back together or rather start over and without anyone knowing what she had gone through. A domestic violence relationship gone badly? No, that didn’t quite describe her life. She had been sold, literally sold, to a man by her own father. It really wasn’t even a big deal to anyone, not to government or to police. No, it was like an upper-class business deal behind closed doors. She was manipulated, tricked into thinking that Barishna loved her, but in actuality he wanted her as his possession, a trophy wife, a sex slave of sorts, a victim of domestic violence. She wasn’t s
ome sought-after princess or debutante. Not a woman of importance that people would come out of the woodwork to protect her, to save her. No, she was a nobody, a woman who had a father who was wealthy, successful in business, and who liked to fuck women her age.

  So when he was offered a deal of some sort with Barishna, who was more powerful, wealthier, and a man with connections, her father jumped at the opportunity to make money and sell her out. She prayed he wound up dead, or at minimum sick with so many STDs that he would die alone and miserable. She hated him.

  She took a deep breath. Thank God her brother had caught wind of what her father, Darren, had done and what abuse she had been sustaining from Barishna. He and his team saved her life.

  She worked from home, her three-bedroom town house overlooking a garden and water feature near the park was perfect. Conveniently, there was a safe trail to run before the dojo or after it. One room that overlooked the gardens, park, and water feature was her office.

  She did everything she could to put the past behind her. She even got a tattoo to cover the scar along her ribs, under her breast. She expanded the series of vines and tiny delicate flowers to her lower hip and back. Colors deep, complex in design, and something she never would have thought of getting on her body but was forced to. Frankie’s friend was a pro. A man that created works of art, embossed in detail and a uniqueness that was all his own. On her body he created a masterpiece and had amazingly hid her scar, and was able to create such a mesmerizing and gorgeous tattoo. He had taken pictures of her tattoo, even posted them on the wall in the shop he owned because it was so beautiful, a one-of-a-kind tattoo she helped to design. A scene combined of a flower garden, vineyard, and something so unique and eye-catching, she often stared at it and thought of her years attending school in Venice and doing specialized courses in Tuscany and other areas of Italy, learning about materials and designing for corporate manufacturers.