Strike, p.1
Strike, page 1
part #4 of Stronger Series
Strike
Book Four - The Stronger Series
Jay Marie
Copyright © 2019 Jay Marie
Self - Published by Jay Marie
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email without prior written permission from Jay Marie.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or person’s living dead, are coincidental.
WARNING: This story is for mature adults only. It contains violence, mature and explicit content and non-consensual / dubious, graphic sexual activity that some readers may find upsetting.
Cover and Web Design by Amanda Simpson
Edited by Jenny Sims of Editing 4 Indies
Formatting by Jeff Senter of Indie Formatting Services
Promoted by Ebony Simone McMillan of Author Support Services
Contents
A Note from Jay
Special Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Author’s Note
About the Author
Connect with Jay
Also by Jay Marie
A Note from Jay
So this is just a special thanks from me to you, and not just for reading this story. By doing so, not only have you helped spread awareness, but you helped donate to a charity that supports victims of human trafficking. This horrific industry is very real and is happening every day, all around the world. With a little help, we can chip away at it until it's nothing but a dusty, dirty stain in our history.
To my readers, you guys have been so patient and so supportive, and I can’t tell you how much it means to me. Between law school, my wedding, working full time, writer’s block, and just life in general, it’s a tough act to juggle, but I’m doing it as best I can with what little time I’ve got. Plus, you know me by now. I like to take my time with my books because I think it just makes the story so much better when it’s paced correctly instead of rushing to the conclusion. This book was an off and on with inspiration. It was difficult to get back into the swing of things, trying to reintegrate myself with my characters, but I think I did them justice. Hopefully you find Strike to be worth the wait. I know two years is a long time, but hey, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger ;)
A big thanks to Bre for her dedication to helping me make this book what it was and catching my many typos and inconsistencies. You’re amazing. Also to my husband for helping me figure out how to realistically do the shit I want to do in all of my books lol. Your support, patience, love, and knowledge has been invaluable to me. To Ebony for keeping me straight and helping me with everything I could possibly need to get this beast out there and giving me all your honest input. To my editor, Jenny, for knocking all 625 pages out in like 3 weeks and killin’ it! You’re awesome! And to my mom and my cousin, Tara – you both will always be my favorite beta readers ;)
I know the next question will be about the release of Stand, the final book and conclusion to the series. I plan to start it shortly after the release of Strike. I anticipate a release at the end of next year, but as always, I can’t guarantee that. I never know what life is going to throw my way. It may slow me down, but it won’t stop me, so you can at the very least count on that lol. I don’t think I will need to write as much as I did for Strike since there were so many dominos that I needed to line up and I didn’t want to rush their fall, so hopefully it won’t take me as long to write. I will do my very best to get Stand done as quickly as I can while I approach my final semesters in law school. I graduate December 2020! I can’t wait to be done! It’ll be interesting closing two chapters of my life next year, law school and the Stronger Series. But I am definitely looking forward to expanding my horizon and taking you guys along for the ride if you want to stick it out with me. I’ve got a lot of projects I can’t wait to get started on and share with you all, but I’ve got one last book to finish before I can.
Sooooo with that I hope you enjoy this beast! It’s about time I finally shared it with the world!
<3 Jay Marie
SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Cover and Web Design by Amanda Simpson
Pixel Mischief Design
Edited by Jenny Sims
Editing 4 Indies
Formatted by Jeff Senter
Indie Formatting Services
Promoted by Ebony Simone McMillan
Author Support Services
Thank you so much to my amazing team!
Dedication
This is for you. For the ones who have suffered. For the ones who have despaired. For the ones who continue to fight every day to simply stay alive. And for the ones who are already lost. It is my greatest hope that you find your way back to us, for I am not done fighting for you...but only you can make yourself stronger.
1
Fire
1 Year Later
Sweat dripped from my forehead onto the bright blue mats fifteen feet below me. I held my position over the metal bars, both hands gipping the bars with my legs and feet pointed toward the high ceiling. I had been working on this handstand for a while, and now I wanted to up the difficulty. Shifting my weight slightly, my right hand released the bar while my left held my entire body weight. My muscles and wrist burned under the pressure, while more sweat dripped from my hairline as I focused on my breathing. I widened my legs a little bit into a V and took a deep breath before switching to the other hand.
AC/DC played through the tiny cordless earbuds in my ears, the music not quite loud enough to drown out Clive and Owen sparring each other in the caged octagon behind me. Camaro wasn’t too far away, my full-grown rotty dragging a one-hundred-pound weight that was attached to a rope by her teeth – her chew toy victim of the hour. And as I re-focused my attention from my personal training room back to my handstand my world became temporarily at peace.
Last year in April, Darren had given me a very special surprise for my twenty-sixth birthday. He gifted me my very own private gym. There had been weeks of construction going on in the house, but no matter how many times I asked, no one would tell me what it was for. The first time I saw the completion, I felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast when the Beast opened the doors to her new library, except my library was stocked with enough training equipment to make me drool.
My gym was massive, nearly as big as Darren’s, and it had everything I could ever want or need. Four heavy bags of different weights and lengths hung near the padded walls, mats covered the floors in various areas, and a caged octagon took up the entire corner of the gym. I also had a rock-climbing wall, a spring-loaded floor next to a pit containing chunks of landing foam adjacent to a trampoline, dozens of workout machines and weights, a rack of training bo staffs next to a wall of mirrors, a thick rope connected to the ceiling for climbing, and a giant three-level metal jungle gym, which I was currently balancing on my hands at the top level.
I couldn’t deny how much I honestly loved my gym. It was my adult playground, and I rarely left it unless it was either nice outside or I absolutely had to. I appreciated that it also accommodated Camaro, and my annoying ass bodyguards. They all might as well train as they were now rather than sit around and watch me do it.
Training was the only thing that kept me sane anymore. The pain I felt from the strain in my muscles told me I was strong enough to withstand it. The air pumping through my lungs from the exertion told me I was still breathing. And the pounding from within my chest told me I was still very much alive. When I pushed myself, I felt in control. I felt powerful because I knew I could accomplish anything. Fuck whatever got in my way. I was fire.
Things had changed so much since that night I killed Jared. It had been a little over a year since then, and I was a completely different animal now. I had allowed so many emotions to slip away from me over the past couple of months: guilt, symp athy, hope, desire, and just fucks in general.
I felt hardened inside as if someone had encased my heart in concrete. I didn’t care. I honestly didn’t want to feel anything anymore. Not unless it was physical. Physical pain healed eventually. Emotional pain was a different story.
Pain or pleasure – those were my anchors – and so was the man who carried them.
Darren had morphed into a new kind of drug for me. He had become my obsession, just as I was his, but for a completely different reason.
I was obsessed with knowing where he was, what he was doing, why he was doing it, who was involved, and when he would be back. I wasn’t privy to any of that information, of course, but I sought for literally anything that could help me anticipate what kind of mood he would be in so I could accommodate accordingly, adapt to what he needed that day, and be the example of absolute perfection.
But like usual, I never knew shit unless Darren wanted me to.
It was a good thing I had become so good at reading him. I was fluent in his body language now, attuned to the simplest facial expressions. From the tiniest clench in his jaw to the flare of his nostrils, I could usually count on my instincts to predict the outcome. I tried not to be too obvious in my knowledge, knowing how important it was for him to remain unpredictable, but that was only to his enemies. And I wasn’t currently an enemy.
I tried not to look at my situation as a prisoner/ captor relationship anymore. I forced myself to see it as more of a business relationship. If I gave Darren what he wanted, he would give me what I wanted. Although I had to admit he was a fickle market sometimes because I still occasionally got fucked over. That was part of the risk, though. I would try to avoid it as best as I could, but sometimes, you couldn’t always predict when the stock market would crash and leave you with nothing.
I took my victories in stride, never gloating and always humble. The philosophy served me well, as was my ability to ignore the deep need for my freedom. It was overshadowed by something far greater: I belonged to Darren. Freedom from him didn’t exist, and I had learned to live with that. For now.
My conditioning continued long after I was released from the basement – only the techniques had changed. It was really something special when you can feel your own brain being warped right in front of you, and you were helpless to stop it. The tug and pull like a rubber band, expanding in places you never thought possible, until everything finally snaps and your world was brought into perspective. What was once important no longer mattered. What once brought you fear now brought you security. What once was pain now becomes pleasure. Suffering equaled sacrifice, and I gladly placed myself over the altar every day all for the sake of pleasing my god so I could survive another day.
The vibration of the heavy metal doors to my private gym stole my attention as I felt them slam shut, announcing someone’s entry. I looked up from my position and saw Scott standing expectantly by the door.
“You ready?” he asked.
Immediately unfolding myself from my handstand into a front cartwheel, I stood perfectly on my feet between the metal bars of my jungle gym and looked at him.
“About time. I’ve been waiting all morning.”
“Well, let’s go, hotshot. Everyone is waiting on you,” he replied with a smirk.
I nodded and hopped down to the second level of my jungle gym. Running into a full sprint over the wide metal, I fell into another cartwheel, gripping the last few inches of the metal bars and leapt off the jungle gym into a double backflip, completing my landing expertly before standing on two feet. Scott gave me a little applause as I walked over to him with Camaro following in stride. I liked to be a little flashy sometimes.
“Try to avoid what happened last time,” Clive called from the octagon where he and Owen were still sparring. Owen chuckled as he waved me off.
“No survivors this time,” I answered. With a quick wink, I headed out into the hall with Scott and Camaro at my side.
“Someone is confident today,” Scott commented as we headed outside to where my team was currently waiting.
“I’m gonna destroy him,” I claimed.
And I fucking would. It was all I had been planning for the past two weeks. This time, it would work, and I’d own the bragging rights of the century.
Twenty men stood around the patio as they finished strapping on their gear, waiting on me to join them. I quickly changed into the protective tactical clothing that had been laid out for me, pulling on the slim black cargo pants over my workout shorts and the three-quarter sleeve compression shirt over my tank top. After fastening my chest and back plates, boots and gloves, I finished with an additional five pistols in my numerous gun holsters, one hunting knife, and one automatic M16 rifle strapped to my front. Scott placed a protective body vest around Camaro, strapping it tight enough so she wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of it this time. Tightening my ponytail and my bootlaces, I grabbed my helmet, and walked out to my team.
“Okay, this time is going to be different,” I said to them as they turned to listen. “This time, I’m only going to leave five of you to protect our base, and the rest will stick with me. Two men at my three and nine and two at my noon and six. The rest will spread out evenly, and we’ll try to keep them cornered. Camaro will give the signal. We need to also remember that he isn’t playing by the same rules, so remember who the real target is.”
They all nodded in understanding.
“Any questions?” I asked.
One raised his hand. “What happens when we run into an ambush again?”
I glared at him while the rest chuckled under their breath in response. “How about we just don’t this time?” I replied. The rest of my team nodded in unison. “All right then, let’s go.”
As I took a step off the patio with my team, a large heavy hand landed on my shoulder, halting me in my tracks. I turned to see Scott standing over me, wearing a look of intrigue on his face.
“Nice pep talk,” he said, “but he went easy on you last time. He won’t be this time around.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Good,” I said and stepped out.
“I’ll be studying you from the sidelines. Good luck!” he shouted after me.
I won’t need it.
We headed to our base through the woods, which was about fifteen yards from the shoreline, and waited for the signal. Adrenaline was already beginning to rush through my veins, my body hot with anticipation and anxiety. I had a point to prove today and I wanted to make it loud and clear. I just hoped I didn’t fuck it up this time.
About sixty seconds later, the red flare we all had been waiting for burst into the sky, initiating that it was go time.
Leaving our five behind, the rest of us quickly made our way through the trees and into the war zone. It wasn’t long before sweat started to drip down my brow under the heat of my helmet, the hot rays of the sun reaching through the trees and soaking into my black tactical uniform. My boots dug deep into the dirt and my hands clutched my rifle tightly into my shoulder as I scanned the area around me, my team of fifteen at my back and a fully-grown Rottweiler at my side, all waiting on my command.
