Under His Protection

KC RICE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual person’s living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2018 KC Rice

www.pureromancekcrice.com

All rights reserved.

Except for use in a review, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without written permission.

Published by A Brush and PenCover by Dark Mantle Designs

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Cover Model: Alfie Gordillo

https://www.facebook.com/AlfieGabrielGordillo/

Photographer: Randy Perillo

https://facebook.com/profile.php?id=1546893298

Editors: Wayne Clarke and Cynthia Krietz

Dedication

I dedicate this book to Alfie Gordillo and Cash Goodson

Unbeknown to Alfie, it was he who inspired me to write this story. One day while flipping through different cover model’s photos, I happened upon Alfie’s page. I noticed immediately that each of his photos told a story of their own. It was there that the character, Parker, was created.

I knew exactly how I wanted my main female character and who I wanted to name her after, my beautiful, sweet friend, Cashenna Goodson. The first day we met, I knew she was a unique woman, I could tell she was strong, independent, and had a heart of gold. Not to mention, I loved her name. I asked her one evening while sitting in Melissa’s Cottage Café if I could use her name in my book. She agreed, and I am so glad she did.

Parker and Cash went hand to hand from the very beginning of the story. It was as though the characters truly existed.  The chemistry and drive between them were always front and center. The story unfolded within my mind at times faster than my fingers could type.

And the two of them always kept my mind in a whirlwind.

Very special thanks to both Alfie and Cash for your friendship, encouragement, and support.

Much love~ K

Preface

After his younger brother, Venni, was murdered by a notorious crime family, Antonio Parker Donati dedicated his life to going after and bringing down organized crime within Chicago and its surrounding areas.

Donati, a twenty-year veteran of the Organized Crime Unit, had become the most well-known and respected detective in the department.

After years of investigations, dead ends, and crooked cops, Parker finally managed to uncover the identity of the man responsible for his brother’s death, Mano Torret.  After vowing a promise to his mother on her deathbed to bring Torret to justice, Parker became obsessed and made plans to infiltrate the Torret family business. But before he could set his plan into motion, old man Torret unexpectedly died, leaving the eldest son, Mano, in charge.

Mano Torret was a vile creature hidden within a man’s body. He enjoyed the look of fear on his victims’ faces and the smell of their hot blood as it pumped from their bodies. Riches and power weren’t enough for Torret, nor was being one of the biggest crime bosses in Chicago. He had his eyes set on the west side of town and was hell-bent on taking control, one way or another. After numerous attempts to persuade the long-time family friend to relinquish their hold on the west side, Torret initiated an all-out turf war that sent the back streets and alleys of Chicago into a battlefield. Drugs, prostitution, gambling, and money laundering were just a small portion of what this sadistic man was capable of, while he hid behind the walls of the historic Green Mill Pub, one of Chicago’s oldest and most regarded speakeasies. 

Cashenna Margaret Ramsey, known to her friends and family as ‘Cash.’ At twenty-five years old, she had graduated from college a little over a year ago with a bachelor’s degree in finance and accounting. She was confident she made the right move when she took accounting for her major. But she found herself discouraged and in need of a drastic change in her life. After all, she didn’t go into debt just to be waiting tables at Green Mill Pub all her life. It was fine while she was in school; the hours were perfect for a college student. The tips were much better than at the local family restaurant. 

She was still paying a fortune for her degree while trying to keep a roof over her head and food on the table; it was nearly impossible. She was behind on her rent again and hoped like hell the landlord would for once be understanding. After all, the apartment building she was living in was in the slums. The walls were paper-thin; you could throw a cat through them, the heat worked only part of the time and don’t even think about taking a hot shower. At least there weren’t any roaches, of course, the giant rats that inhabited the building were probably feasting on them.  Thank God the locks on the door still worked ...for now anyway.

Then, late one night, as Cash was closing, she caught the eye of the pub owner, Mano Torret.  He spotted her when he came in for a pick-up and couldn’t take his eyes off her. That was the last night she worked for tips. Unbeknownst to her then on out, she was known as Mano Torret’s Personal Assistant and property.

No one in the organization dared to look at her, let alone think of talking to her. Mano soon had her overseeing his books and trying like hell to get her into his bed.

Chapter One

WE’VE FINALLY GOT THE son of a bitch!  Parker leaned back in his chair, clasping his fingers behind his head; the weight of the world finally lifted from his shoulders.

Mano Torret was the scumbag who’d brutally murdered Parker’s younger brother. Not to mention all his dirty dealings and blackmails that ended up causing the end of peace between two of Chicago’s crime families.

Hell, he couldn’t count the number of people Torret had been responsible for murdering; the disappearances, robberies, and daily shipment of contraband smuggled into the country by his hand was never-ending. 

Sitting back up in his chair, he thumbed through the case file once more, the endless photos of bodies found throughout the years. The brutality and dismemberment that each victim sustained were gut-wrenching. And his hideous calling card engraved on the foreheads of his victims. Hell, that in itself should have been enough to put the bastard away, but still.... Somehow he always managed to walk. But not this time! Parker ran his finger along the last entry of the file.

Cashenna Ramsey:  Auburn hair- brown eyes.

Female  Caucasian  Age 28  5’8" 147 lbs.

Identifying Marks:

An intricate tattoo of interlocking hearts location, lower right hip.

He picked up the photograph attached to the file and studied it. The photo was of two beautiful redheads. One of them was Brianna Ramsey, the other Cashenna Ramsey.  Sisters and identical twins. He studied both faces carefully; their height, build, body structure, and stance but couldn't see any difference. How the hell their parents could ever tell them apart, he wasn’t sure—more proof God enjoyed fucking with mankind, creating two beautiful, flawless specimens.

Parker was anxious to meet with the young lady. She was the vital link in nailing Torret’s ass to the wall. And so far, he’d managed to keep her identity and location top secret, choosing the best safe house he could find to keep her. Only three of his top men knew of its location, and they were there now, ensuring her safety.

Flipping the file closed, he tapped the file with his index finger before placing it in the top drawer of his desk to lock it safely away. He was tired, and he knew it. This case had taken its toll on him; his exhaustion was evident in the lines and dark circles around his eyes. Slowly, he stood up and made his way to the door.

THE STREETS OF CHICAGO were dark and gloomy. The only illumination was the occasional street lamp. Dingy and darkened by the thick smog, the lights did very little to help one to see where they were going. Unless you knew this part of town, you were sure to get lost in the night.

An SUV cruised down the street unnoticed, its dark color blended well with the night. It slowed and turned off the road and onto a gravel driveway lined with trees on either side.

The driver turned off the headlights and focused on the trees keeping the SUV between the rows. The world around them silent, as the vehicle crept along with only the sound of crunching gravel under the tires.

Each of the occupants of the vehicle sat silently, thinking what their job was once they reached their destination.

Get In.

Kill.

Get out.

THE CONSTANT RINGING of his cell phone had woken Parker up from a dead sleep.

Hello! He answered gruffly, annoyed at being woken.

The commotion coming through the phone made his heart race. It sounded like a war going on, instantly jarring him awake, his eyes popped open as he launched himself out of bed.

The sound of gunfire and shouting continued over the phone while he struggled to hear and understand the frantic female voice on the other end.

Shoving his feet into his boots, he grabbed his pistol and rushed out of the door into his truck. Putting his phone on speaker, he dropped it on the seat beside him as he peeled out of the parking lot, heading for the safe house.  His heart was beating erratically, telling him his intuition was right, he floors the gas, desperate to ensure she survived. Yelling into the phone, LISTEN TO ME, DAMN IT! But the crying and hysterical babble continued to spill from the phone. In frustration, he rubbed at the smooth skin of his head while his mind raced through one scenario after another. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  RUN! He screamed at her. Get out of there - get away from there. Hide! Do you understand? I’m almost there. He shouted at her again, unsure if she understood him or even heard him over the sound of gunfire and her hysterical crying. The echo of the gunfire sent his stomach crashing as he sped through the early morning streets.

Her sudden blood-curdling scream pierced his ears, turning his blood to ice. The choppy sounds of her breathing no longer coming through the phone as the gunfire ceased, and silence consumed the cab, Parker felt as though he’d been gutted when the line went dead. 

DAMN IT! He shouted at himself, slamming his fist onto the steering wheel. I won’t let that son of a bitch walk again. I’ll kill the mother fucker first.

Off in the distance, the sun’s first rays brought fingers of light that mixed with the black smoke billowing into the sky. The rear of the truck fishtails as he swung into the driveway and slammed on the brakes a short distance from the safe house. Only four people knew about this place, so how the hell did Torret find out about it?

Quickly surveying the area around him, he pulled his gun and slowly got out of the truck. The smell of hot blood, burning flesh, smoke, and death permeated his nostrils, causing them to burn as he moved in closer, the smoked filled his lungs, and he began to cough.

The door of the cabin hung from one hinge as smoke billowed out the broken glass. He rushed up the steps trying to see through the flames, but the heat was so intense he felt it singe his beard.

Amidst the crackle and popping of the flames, he thought he heard coughing from somewhere inside. Straining to hear, he listened, hearing it again. There was someone inside, and they were still alive!  Without a thought, he tucked his gun away, using his arm as a shield to protect his face, he leaped through the door and into the inferno.

The flames licked at him as he crossed the threshold, and the timbers began to creak and bow. Parker knew he only had a matter of seconds before the cabin walls and roof would collapse in on him, covering his mouth with his shirt collar, he followed the sound of coughing, stopping when his foot hit something, and a hand grasped weakly at his ankle. Kneeling, he could barely make out the ash-covered face of his best friend, Von. He lifted him into a fireman’s carry and retreated out the door just as the walls gave way. The windows exploded, sending glass and embers, flying in every direction, a piece of debris hit Parker in the back, causing him to fall hard to the ground. He rolled in an attempt to shield his friend from the impact as the building crumbled into a fiery heap of rubble behind them.

Chapter Two

TWO YEARS LATER....

The memories of that night still haunted him, the loss of his three best friends and his key witness. He couldn’t forget the smug look on Torret’s face as he walked out of the police station, past him—a free man— again!

Frustrated, Parker poked harder at the glowing embers in the fireplace, stirring them to life, before adding another log to the flames. The smoke filled the room with the sweet scent of cedar, instant relaxation, placing a second log to the fire, Parker stands dusting his hands off as the warmth from the fire spread through his worn jeans and flannel shirt, giving him solace.

Stepping away from the hearth, he went over to the window and looked out, watching the wind and rain ravage the small area surrounding his log cabin, the place he now called home.  He allowed his mind to drift back over the past two years.

He resigned from the force, no longer able to stomach the corrupt city officials hiding behind the mob, it was them who pushed the buttons that allowed criminals of every kind to walk free without so much as a slap on the wrist. The city he once loved and vowed to keep safe was now a hell hole. A place where Satan and his demons played and stalked their prey, day and night.

He’d had enough, so he sold his condo and liquidated all his assets. Then, one Saturday packed up and headed west, seeking refuge from the nightmares and memories that haunted him—hoping to tame the seemingly endless anger that consumed him.

He was finally settling down on the outskirts of a small village nestled deep in the Colorado Rockies. The solitude of the place was nourishment to his aching soul, and necessary for his healing.

Not wanting to be paid, but needing something to occupy his mind, he picked up a casual job at the stable helping the elderly owner, Dwayne Knight. Taking over the tasks he could no longer manage on his own, shoeing the horses, cleaning their stalls, and at times leading trail rides. Hell, this was therapy for him, and it helped him heal.

He’d always loved animals and had a real soft spot for horses. He remembered the summers spent at his Poppa’s ranch in Montana. The nights spent sleeping under the stars, then getting up the next morning to catch breakfast. Ahh, the fun times they had fishing in that crystal stream that wound through the lower back acreage.

Dwayne Knight, it turned out, owned most of the area, the settlement of Knightsville had been named after his family.

One morning when Parker came in to help with the chores, Knight was waiting for him with two horses. No chores today. Saddle up, I want to show you something. Knight told him insisting when Parker objected.

They saddled up their horses and rode off into the trees following a track that only Knight could see. After an hour, the wooded area opened, revealing a lush green flat. The grass swayed in the breeze, the quiet surrounding them broken up by the refreshing song of water cascading over rocks. Knight slowed his horse, and he turned to look at Parker.

What do you think, young man? Perfect for a cabin, wouldn’t ya say?  He reined in and dismounted, from the horse dropping the reins to allow it to graze.

Parker sat frozen, gapping in awe at the serenity of the place, looking around; the open area surrounded by pine, cedar, and maple trees. The picture itself looked as though God sketched the layout to perfection, just for a man, this man, searching for answers.

He dismounted, letting his horse graze and followed the old man as he walked the perimeter. Knight pointed with rough, calloused hands while he described the vision he had always had for a son God never gave him, turning, his old cloudy eyes glassed over with tears as he forced a smile. You, He pointed at Parker.  This was always meant for you . . . God knew way before you, and I did. He knew you would come. He knew you needed the healing powers these mountains could give. Chuckling, he shook his head from side to side. He knew this old fool needed help before he would finally come to terms with growing old. Stepping closer, he grasped Parker’s shoulder. He sent you here because I needed you as much as you needed these mountains. Right here would be a perfect place to build a cabin. The fresh spring runs right through; it will supply all the water you’ll need. Over here, he said, guiding Parker to a boulder, bending over to pick it up.

Here, let me help you. That’s too heavy. Parker warned, moving closer to help. His eyes widened in surprise when the old man lifted the ‘boulder’ with ease and revealed a power transformer and grid hidden within it.

Here... is your power station. But to the average man.... It’s just an old rock. I had power run up here about five years ago, so it’s up to code, all you’ll have to do is tie into the grid, and over there beyond that narrow bluff is the sewer dock.

Knight straightened his thinning shoulders, proud of his accomplishments and the look of astonishment still on Parker’s face. He patted him on the back. All the comforts of city life, without the shit that goes with it.  He chuckled, taking a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, handing it to Parker.  This here’s the deed to the land. I want you to have it, my boy. Parker instinctively reached out his hand, jerking it back when the realization hits him. Mr. Knight shoved the paper towards Parker, ordering, Don’t argue with an old man when he’s got his heart set on doing something. 

THE TENSION OF THE last few days had knotted around his shoulders a bit more than he expected; he rubbed at his neck, trying to ease the stiffness. The wonderful memories of the old man clouded his vision and brought a tightening to his chest he hadn’t felt in years.

Moving away from the window, he picked up his coffee and took a mouthful, immediately spitting the cold dark liquid back into the cup, taking it with him to the kitchen. After emptying and rinsing his cup, he refilled it with hot coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Drawing the writing pad closer to him, he lifted the pen and began to write. The elusive words he was seeking only an hour ago began to flow effortlessly now.......

"Dwayne Edward Knight.... Our hearts are heavy with sorrow, yet we find happiness knowing you are united with the love of your life....

Dwayne was a great friend to many of you, but to me, he was so much more. He was the father, the boy inside me always dreamed of having. I only knew him for two short years, but in that small span of time, he taught me a lifetime of what it meant to be a real man. To look past people’s faults, and to grow through the pain instead of allowing it to fester and turn into hatred.

He once told me he believed God had sent me here because God knew he needed someone to help him come to terms with growing old and accepting it.  The truth is, it was me who needed him. And I will forever cherish the memories and love he shared.

So, as we come together to say our last farewell, may we lift our glasses and give a toast to the man whose spirit will always dwell among us. We will forever hear his laughter in the wind, feel his love in the warmth of the sunshine, and remember his humor in the many jokes and stories he shared."

With a heavy heart, Parker closed the notebook and wiped away the tears that had trickled down his cheek. Pushing away from the table, noticing the sun had already set and night had fallen. He stretched his arms over his head, trying to work the stiffness out, wondering to himself why he was surprised at how long it took him to write down his thoughts and feelings- after all, He’d always struggled with sharing his emotions.

Chapter Three

BABE’S BBQ WAS A SMALL ‘hole in the wall,’ located off old US 25. The old building made of cedar and hickory was complete with a rugged old porch its hitching posts stretching the length of the building. 

She had wandered into the area about a year ago, looking for a job and a new start. She never expected the owner to take her under her wing, let alone insist she live in the small attic apartment above the diner. She settled in quickly but never let her guard down and always stayed to herself.

Damn, what a day! she sighed, wiping down the last table and rolling her shoulder to work out some of the stiffness. The old wooden floor creaked beneath her feet as she moved around it, worn and strained by thousands of hungry patrons over the years.

She went back behind the counter and threw the dingy dish towel into the sink as she passed it. It was her first night to close. The quietness of the diner was a relief after a crazy busy day. Everyone else had gone home, so the diner sat empty.

She poured herself the last of the coffee and left the pot on the counter as a reminder to wash it out once she finished her coffee. Coming back around the counter, she sat on a stool and removed her black-rimmed glasses to rub her tired eyes. Replacing her glasses, she picked up the cup and sipped the hot coffee.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the door when it opened until the bell above it dinged, jerking her back to reality. 

We’re closed, she said, only half turning toward the door. She could hear the scuff of heavy footsteps as the person continued toward her, making the hair on her neck stand on end.

She turned around to look at the person and saw the man staring at her. The look in his eyes made her blood run cold. Her first instinct was to run! But her body refused to move, frozen in her seat, scared. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she was sure the man could hear it from across the room; she steadied her breathing before adding: I told you, we’re closed. Come back tomorrow. We open at 7:00 am. Shit! Why wasn’t he leaving? Did he know I was the only one here?

The man tilted his head, studying her before he said anything. I know you, don’t I? His words were more a statement of fact than a question.

"Nope. Never seen you before. You ain’t