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  Cherry Hill 17: Have a Little Faith

  Faith has pretty much given up on true love and even Cherry Hill. She is about to head back home when she meets and falls in love with Louis, Voight, Worin, and Hunt.

  Four, older soldiers with PTSD, and attitudes. They realize that she is pretty special and no other woman gets to them as Faith does. Faith wonders if they're worth the risk and if they're ready to commit, despite their bad attitudes and commanding ways. A few kisses and some wild make-out sessions convince them all to take a chance.

  Her friend is looking for love in all the wrong places and winds up putting Faith in danger. Faith is smart enough to get away and heads right to her men's arms.

  The only problem now is she's gained the interest of some men who want to do her harm and failed at the first attempt. They don't intend to fail now, but even battered bruised and ready to pass out, Faith fights for her life and gives her men the time they need to rescue her before it's too late.

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

  Length: 40,530

  CHERRY HILL 17:

  HAVE A LITTLE FAITH

  Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  Cherry Hill 17: Have a Little Faith

  Copyright © 2019 by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  ISBN: 978-1-64243-908-3

  First Publication: July 2019

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2019 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.

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  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  For all titles by Dixie Lynn Dwyer, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/dixie-lynn-dwyer

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHERRY HILL 17:

  HAVE A LITTLE FAITH

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  CHERRY HILL 17:

  HAVE A LITTLE FAITH

  DIXIE LYNN DWYER

  Copyright © 2019

  Prologue

  Worin gripped the back of the truck, bowed his head and growled low. “God damn it, no!” he mumbled under his breath. The flashbacks hit him out of nowhere. He clenched his eyes closed and willed them away. It had been a few weeks since he had an episode. Why now in the middle of town? Why from the sound of a truck backfiring did he react like this? He didn’t look around him. Wouldn’t dare look to see who saw him, who might find his actions peculiar. He just hoped that Hunt got back to the truck soon. He was trying to get rid of the sensations. The fear, the adrenaline rush that was urging its way to the surface. What would he do? How would he react? He could hurt someone. He was shaking but gripped the metal tightly in hopes of making the sensations subside. He could hardly catch his breath. It was going to be a bad one. Fuck me.

  “Are you okay?”

  He heard the voice, turned and grabbed out. It was instinctive until he felt the light, feminine body, inhaled the scent, familiar, enticing, and his eyes locked on to hazel green eyes the size of saucers. Faith? Oh God, no. No, don’t let her see me like this.

  “Worin? Are you okay?” she whispered and instead of pulling back, she stepped closer, placed her hands on his chest. She caressed him. He felt it but was in shock. He still held her close. Had her pinned against the truck, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath to will reality into his brain so he wouldn’t hurt her.

  “Nice, slow, easy breaths. You’re fine. You’re home in Cherry Hill. We’re hanging out, just enjoying the beautiful, sunny day. Nice and easy, Worin,” she said to him. He was breathing through his nostrils, gripping her upper arms tight, but she still caressed him, her head barely reaching his chest, he was so much bigger than her.

  God, she’s so beautiful, so sweet and young. His lips parted. He focused on the sound of her sweet, calming voice. He inhaled her scent, comforting, likable.

  “That’s it. You’re doing just fine,” she said to him and she smiled. Her pretty white teeth became his focus along with those soft, wet lips. Kissable, light pink, so perfect. He moved to her eyes, taking in the hazel and green color so unique and beautiful like Faith. Young, though. God, she was so young. So unaware of life, of danger and tragedy.

  He released her arms abruptly, as if she had some sort of disease or something. Meanwhile she helped him. Just fucking helped him through an episode. He couldn’t look at her, or the hurt expression that flashed in her eyes. He did that. He hurt her, insulted her. He didn’t want anyone close. He wanted to be left alone. Why did he come here? Why?

  She pulled back and rubbed her arms where he had held her. He saw the red finger marks. “Fuck.” She tightened up, took a retreating step back. Had he said that too loud? Too abruptly? He was scaring her. She feared him? Good. Keep away. I could have hurt you. Fuck. He exhaled then went to reach out and then pulled back and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “No, no, I’m fine. Are you better?”

  He stared at her, felt embarrassed then insulted. “I’m fine.”

  “Okay. Do you need anything?” she asked, and then Hunt approached, eyes narrowed, then he looked at Faith.

  “Hey,” Hunt said and Faith stepped back, looked at him then at Hunt. Hunt gave her the once over, eyes squinted, giving daggers, and just staring down at her.

  Her face went flush and she took several retreating steps back. “Take care. Hope you feel better,” she said and turned, then practically ran down the sidewalk.

  Worin watched her and felt like a freak. He lost his shit in front of her. She would think he was a nut job that could hurt or even kill her. “Jesus,” he said and turned to get into the truck. Hunt followed and got behind the wheel, tossing the bag from the hardware store onto the seat between them.

  “What the fuck was that all about?” Hunt asked as he started the ignition on the diesel truck and then began to pull out of the parking spot.

  Nothing.”

  “Fuck that, nothing. I came out and saw you staring at her as she was rubbing her arms. She looked so petite in front of you. What gives?”

  “Nothing, man, so fucking drop it,” he snapped at Hunt.

  “No, I’m not going to drop it. You’re acting fucking funny so what the fuck?” Hunt pushed for answers. He was just as on edge as Worin was. They were fighting their PTSD, hoping to get a grip on it and control the episodes. Certain things set them off. It didn’t take much. They were always jumping down one another’s throats, hiding their experiences, their fears and what they were going through now that they were free. If they could maybe talk about it? He shook his head and stared out the window.

  He swung his head toward Hunt. “I
lost my shit. I fucking heard the sound of a truck backfiring and the next thing I know I’m gripping the back of the truck and holding on, just trying to hold on to my fucking sanity. The flashbacks hit me hard. I saw shit, the explosions, and the gunfire hitting right next to us. Fuck.”

  “Shit, man, I’m sorry I wasn’t there. It must not have been that bad. You just looked serious but not out of control.”

  Worin thought about that a moment and then looked out the window.

  “Faith,” he whispered.

  “What does Faith have to do with that?”

  “I didn’t know where I was. I was fighting it best I could and then next thing I know I hear a soft voice. I grabbed her, and scared the hell out of her.”

  “Oh shit. Did she scream? No one was around or came over?” Hunt asked, now squinting and looking from the road to Worin, back and forth with a concerned expression.

  “No, she didn’t run, she started caressing my chest, talked to me softly and fucking calmed me down.”

  “What?” Hunt asked, raising his voice.

  “I know. I fucking know,” he said to Hunt.

  “Well, you didn’t hurt her. I guess I scared her by the way I approached, but I was worried about you when I saw the look in your eyes and she was rubbing her arms. I didn’t know what to think.”

  “I fucking hurt her. I had to have hurt her. She is going to think I’m a monster. This is why we don’t belong out here. In public and around people, around women. I could have hurt her.”

  Hunt remained quiet a couple of minutes and Worin had a thousand thoughts going through his head. Then came the thoughts about how Faith looked, how she smelled and what he felt as her soft, delicate hands caressed his chest. How her angelic, sweet voice calmed him down. He really could have lost his shit. Then what?

  “You didn’t hurt her. She won’t think the worse about you. It sounds like she knew you were having an episode.”

  “Wonderful. So she’ll lump me into a category of washed up soldiers who can’t keep their fucked up heads in line with normal thoughts. She’ll be afraid of me.”

  “From what you’re describing went down, she didn’t sound afraid. It sounds like she knew exactly what you were going through.”

  “Of course she did. She lives in this town. Soldiers suffer from PTSD all the time. Now she knows I have it. Assume we all do, and she’ll act differently.”

  “Why are you so worried? We don’t go out to Harper’s or hang out there or anywhere to socialize. You won’t have to see her.”

  “She goes by to see Genesis.”

  “Well, avoid her then. But it seems it wasn’t as big of a deal as you think.”

  “Easy for you to say, Hunt. Your episodes are few and far between and mostly at night. I feel like since we got out of that shit hole and I’ve gotten more comfortable and out of training, that I’m getting weaker in mind as well as body.”

  “I hear you on that. I think it’s normal though. You know, part of the process of transitioning back to civilian life. I know it sucks. I have my bad days, too, but it’s still better than the death row we faced as prisoners. We got a chance at life, thanks to Louis and Voight, their connections and their continued need to make certain we weren’t dead. If they wrote us off, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  Worin looked away. “Not sure this is the better option right now.”

  “You’re just feeling that way because you feel vulnerable and exposed. I feel like that too after an episode. We can go shooting at the range or something. That will bring back that prepared emotion. You’ll see.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Worin said but he really felt out of place and once again, on edge, and he didn’t know how to handle it at all. There were too many thoughts in his head and once they arrived back at the ranch, he made his way inside and to ultimately be alone for the rest of the day.

  * * * *

  Faith Keller was getting ready for work at Harper’s. She still had that funny sensation in her gut from earlier today. She didn’t know why she approached that guy, Worin, when she barely knew him. She met him, Hunt and Voight at the hospital when Genesis was there. Louis had introduced them to her and it was crazy how she felt instantly attracted to them. Four very large, very seasoned looking men, who were definitely out of her league and then some. They were distant, cold, not sociable at all, and they could care less what anyone thought.

  They were super attractive, too. Other women noticed them—hell, half the nursing staff hit on them and flirted. They didn’t respond. Their expressions were hardcore, unapproachable and cold.

  She knew those expressions. Especially on Hunt and Worin. Their eyes, sunken in slightly. Their demeanors on the defensive, giving dirty looks, untrusting stares instead of calm, personable responses. She knew a lot about soldiers, and especially ones who saw bad things while serving. Some who felt like they didn’t deserve to be here, alive and well when their friends died, and others who just couldn’t transition into regular routines under noncombative lifestyles. It was like they just couldn’t stop expecting the unexpected.

  She sighed as she thought about her family, her friends, and those who had passed. Being soldiers wasn’t an easy life. Being a family member of one was pretty tough, too.

  She didn’t know why she kept thinking about each of them and especially Hunt and Worin. Those dark brown eyes, scruff along their cheeks, the looks in their sunken eyes, were effective. Add in all that muscle along their bodies and she got palpitations. They were in exquisite physical condition. Hell, as she pressed her palms against Worin’s chest she felt intimidated and fearful. He felt rock solid, and gave off an air of danger, resourcefulness she hadn’t expected to affect her in such a way. They were seasoned, she could tell by the fine line by their eyes, the deep, tanned skin, the color one gets from being in the desert for long periods of time. Henderson, one of her cousin’s friends, had been in Iraq for three years. His skin was almost leathery looking. She went over the scene several times and all she could conclude was that the two men, specifically, reminded her of her brother Toby and her cousin Randal. Both still alive, living an hour from Cherry Hill with a few friends on a lot of open land. They lived off that land, had their own livestock and fishing stream and lake. In fact, she was supposed to ask Harper if she could take off Friday. She would leave Tuesday and head to the private ranch for four days and catch up with her brother, cousin, and their friends. She missed them, and with all the chaos and danger that had been going on around Cherry Hill the past year, they were concerned for her safety and pushing for her to live out on the ranch. Supposedly they were building a lot of small cottages. It was some kind of therapeutic living arrangements for soldiers returning from service and transitioning into civilian life after retirement. Her brother, cousin, and friends made connections in the nearby town of Warriorville. Which was a pretty cool name for a town slowly filling up with soldiers and families. She might consider moving there since nothing really was keeping her here in Cherry Hill but her friends and even they were starting their own lives with men they met and fell in love with.

  Her heart was heavy as she thought about how lonely she felt sometimes. But then she thought about the men she knew who served their country and saw terrible things and couldn’t handle living a normal life. Her cousins committed suicide because they couldn’t cope and that was another reason why Toby and Randal were helping out friends and establishing a safe place for them to heal and transition. Maybe she should be a bigger part of that, and feel like she was worth something instead of nothing at all?

  She grabbed her things and headed out to work, wondering if it was time to move on, and just leave Cherry Hill and start over elsewhere. If she missed it she would only be an hour away. That was nothing, so maybe this trip in a week would truly give her the answers she was searching for.

  Chapter 1

  “What’s going on, Sheriff?” Louis asked Kane McCabe as they sat on the back porch at their place. Athena, Culter, Chase, and Fox
were talking to Worin, Voight and Hunt by the grill. The Sheriff put away his cell phone and he looked a bit displeased by the call he just took.

  “There’s been a series of robberies. Well, we think robberies, yet there’s been no evidence of break-ins. More than likely because the houses or cottages robbed, the owners didn’t lock their door or window. Easy for criminals to get in, ya know?”

  “Shit, that’s pretty typical around here. People not locking their doors and windows,” Louis said.

  “Yeah well, now some assholes are taking advantage of that fact, and corrupting the sense of security and safety we all try to keep here in Cherry Hill and Central Valley.”

  “Is Sheriff Mullen concerned about these robberies, too? I mean they’re happening in Central Valley, as well?” Louis asked and took another slug from his bottle of beer.

  “Yeah, Titus is concerned, too. I think we’re going to spread word about the robberies and just remind people to lock up, and especially at night.”

  “That’s a good idea, and maybe let those who live on the outskirts a little more isolated from their neighbors know to lock up and take precautions, too,” Louis suggested.

  “I will, but crazy thing is, the robberies were close by. This last one only a couple of blocks from the Davies farm. There are several cottages and small houses along that strip of land, with a good amount of acreage between them. Several single women living on their own,” the Sheriff said and rubbed his jaw then pulled his phone out again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m thinking about three in particular who live alone and are far from neighbors. Let me just give Harper a call.”

  “Harper?” Louis asked.

  “It’s women who work for her. Leeann, Candice, and Faith. Faith’s place is a ways off the roadway leading into Pete Irving’s farm. I know she has a gun though, and usually takes precautions, but she should still be made aware,” he said and then called Harper.