Tainted Oaths: A Collateral Damage Novel Book One Read online

  Tainted Oaths

  A Collateral Damage Novel

  Candice Wright

  Tainted Oaths Copyright © 2021

  by Candice Wright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  Cover design by Kirsty @ The Pretty Little Design Co.

  Editing by Tanya Oemig

  Created with Vellum

  To my Amazon delivery driver.

  I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Also by Candice Wright

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Then

  Wyatt

  14 years

  I don’t move from my spot on the floor, even when the blood stops flowing and dries against my skin. The first thing I learned as a child was not to draw attention to myself, so I wait for the house to fall silent before I crawl to the bathroom on my hands and knees.

  Once there, I lay on the cracked tiles and try to catch my breath, knowing from the pain that at least two ribs are broken.

  Using the edge of the cracked avocado green bath, I pull myself up and grip the sink for balance, my eyes connecting with the jaded dark ones of my reflection.

  My dark blond hair so like my dead mother’s, is streaked with blood, much like my nose and lip. My left eye is almost completely swollen shut, having taken the brunt of the first flying fist. The tenderness along my jaw brings with it the promise of more pain tomorrow, but then that’s the story of my life.

  At fourteen, I’m smart enough to know my life isn’t like that of other boys my age, but I’m dumb enough to keep my mouth shut about it. Too scared to fight back, I take everything my father throws at me, knowing if I tell, I might end up somewhere far worse than here.

  Staring at my fucked-up face, for a brief second I think about following my mom’s example by taking a handful of pills with a bottle of cheap whiskey, but there is still a part of me that refuses to give up. That’s the same thing as letting him win.

  And so, everything stays the same. Each day is a continuous cycle of pain and fear. Each sunrise sets my nerves on edge and makes vomit swirl in my gut but it’s sunsets that hurt the most. They remind me of how truly alone I am when night after night my prayers go unanswered.

  If there is a God, then he must hate me because why else would he give me this life?

  Looking away from my reflection, unable to stand the sight of myself anymore, I clean myself up as best I can and quietly take myself to bed.

  It won’t matter come morning how injured I am, there is no getting out of my duties.

  The house is quiet except for the television in the living room. My dad has now passed out in front of it, but even so, I’m careful not to make a sound as I close my door and strip out of my bloody clothes.

  Hopefully, I’ll be able to get them clean. I don’t have enough to just throw them away.

  I wince as I sit on the bed and almost puke when I jar my ribs trying to get comfortable.

  Finally, knowing it’s as good as it’s going to get, I find a relatively comfy spot and try to get some rest. God how I wish I had school tomorrow. At least then I could get a break from him for a few hours, but school let out for the summer two days ago and already I’m black and blue.

  Lying here, I make a promise to myself. The day I turn eighteen, I’m gone. Everything he throws at me I can withstand because I’ll take it with the knowledge that on my eighteenth birthday I’ll be free and maybe then I can be happy.

  Jenna

  14 years old

  I tuck myself into the fetal position and bury my scream in the thin pillow beneath my head.

  The scratchy material absorbs my tears and I purge my grief as quietly as I can so I don’t draw any more attention to myself.

  The last thing I want is for him to come back.

  I hear him laughing at something my father says in the sitting room, my mother’s tinkling giggle joining in as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, as if she didn’t just rent her fourteen-year-old daughter out for the evening.

  You’d think the first time this happened would have been the worst, but I was blindly naive to the role I was playing. All I knew was a man who was older and more worldly than me was showering me with affection every time he came over. I soaked it up like a sponge.

  My parents never loved me. I’d grown up knowing it, even if I didn’t understand the reasons. They had me later in life and never wanted children. For the most part they ignored my existence. That was until my body started to develop and they realized they could use me to top up their income.

  Dale Baldwin, the forty-five-year-old man who took my virginity, had taken me out for dinner and snuck me fancy wine that tasted awful. I drank it anyway in my bid to seem more grown-up. He saw the way my parents were with me and promised me he would take me away as soon as I was old enough.

  He took something alright, but it wasn’t in a bid to keep me safe.

  While he had tenderly made love to me, kissing away my tears as he pushed inside my too-young body, I fantasized about our future together. I thought we were in love. I envisioned a house with a white picket fence and a puppy that rushed out to greet us with exuberance, but that all came crashing down when I heard the exchange that came after.

  I’d gingerly climbed from the bed to clean myself up when I’d heard my name coming
from the living room. I’d frozen in place as I’d heard Dale joke about how tight I had been and asking my father if he’d get a discount next time for breaking me in.

  The sense of betrayal left me on my knees puking into the toilet bowl as my brain tried to understand everything, to make sense of the horror, but it was impossible. My parents had rented my body to the highest bidder. That night would be the first of many.

  Some of them took care with me, twisted and sick with their need to fuck their own offspring, they wiped my tears while they came, whispering their daughter’s names. They were the ones who wore guilt like a cheap suit, scurrying from the room as soon as they’d tucked their dicks away before hurrying back to their unsuspecting families. I’d almost grown numb to them. The ones to watch out for are the ones like the man who came tonight. Men like him get off on the power and the pain and ultimately my humiliation. They feed on my tears and come to the sound of my tortured screams.

  When they leave, they don’t scurry, they strut like proud peacocks feeling virile for debasing a young girl. I suspect a strong woman would see them for the creeps they are, which is why they paid to take it out on me in the first place.

  Lying there listening to them laugh and joke as my pride laid in tatters on the floor, my mind flashes to the razor blade in my bottom drawer.

  I had sat for an hour yesterday, dragging it lightly over my wrist, willing myself to press a little harder so I might find an escape, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give them that last part of me. Instead, I made myself a deal. I would endure, I would survive and when I turned eighteen, I would leave this place behind and run far away and never look back.

  It’s that sheer determination that makes me climb unsteadily to my feet to clean myself up. Just a few more years and then I’ll be free and maybe then I’ll be happy.

  Chapter One

  Now

  Wyatt

  I wrap my arms around her waist and bury my head in her coffee-colored hair. I breathe her in and just like every other time, a sense of calm washes over me.

  “Good morning,” Maggie murmurs, turning in my arms and leaning into me.

  “It would have been better if you’d been in bed when I woke up so I could love on you a little before work.”

  She chuckles, pressing closer. “Then we would both be late for work and funnily enough my boss doesn’t think morning sex is a viable excuse.”

  “Well, clearly she isn’t getting any either,” I mutter before pulling back.

  “How about I see if mom will watch Ella Friday night so we can spend some grown-up time together?”

  “Hmm…I like the way you think, wife.”

  “That’s because you want to get laid, husband.” She grins at me just as we hear a thump followed by the thud, thud, thud of footsteps across the hallway.

  “Cockblocked again,” I whisper, making her laugh out loud this time.

  “I’m afraid it’s just you and your hand this morning. I have to drop Ella off before an early meeting. No, don’t pout at me. Jesus, I know where your daughter gets it from.”

  And speaking of my mini-me, I spin when I hear little feet hit the bottom step and brace myself because sure enough, a tiny human bullet shoots straight into my legs.

  Reaching down, I grab her under her arms and toss her into the air before catching her, both of us grinning.

  I blow a raspberry on her neck and revel in her giggles.

  I wake with a gasp, my heart aching like it always does after one of those dreams. It’s not so much the dreaming of them that hurts me, it’s the waking up afterward to find the pillow beside me cold.

  It’s been years, but some nights when the dreams still have hold of me, I open my eyes and for a brief second I forget they’re gone.

  Shoving the blanket off my legs, I sit up and gaze at the clock and sigh when I see it’s only a little after two in the morning.

  Silently I head to the kitchen and grab myself a glass of water, letting the silence of the apartment wash over me, the remnants of Ella’s giggles nothing more than an echo in my head as I move to the sitting room and turn on the television, keeping the volume low.

  I flick through the channels, settling on some show about gold mining before leaning back and closing my eyes.

  “Could Mr. Turner please report to reception? Thank you.”

  I pause what I’m doing and frown. I’ve been working here at the gym for a few years now and don’t think I’ve ever heard my name called over the intercom before.

  Turning back to the woman who had been trying to flirt with me as I showed her how to operate the equipment, I excuse myself and head off to see what’s happening.

  “Yo, Wyatt, you fuck anyone up lately?” I turn my head to Carl, who is standing by the window, and flip him off. I’d been coming here as a teenager pissed at the world, needing somewhere to channel my anger. Bob, the manager at the time, had let me take part in the boxing and martial arts classes in return for cleaning the gym and general manual labor. It worked for me. It meant more time out of the house and taught me how to make the most of my body. Once I’d hit puberty, there was no stopping me.

  One of the most satisfying days I can remember was when my father hit me for the last time. I’d towered over him by that point and had relished giving him a warning, letting him know with no uncertainty that if he ever laid a finger on me again, I’d break both his hands.

  From that day forward, instead of using his fists, he used his words, hoping to still tear me down, but he should have saved his breath. I’d long since stopped caring about what he said to me.

  There had been incidents over the years when I’d gotten into fights, but for the most part, I’d turned things around because I never wanted to become a man like my father. Meeting Maggie at seventeen only reinforced that. She deserved the best and I’d break my back making sure I gave that to her.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” I reply with a shake of my head, knowing he didn’t mean anything by it. Our situations were similar, after all. The only difference is, I have my girls and Carl has a revolving door of women.

  “Why’d you ask?”

  It’s Carl’s turn to frown then, pointing out the window at the police cruiser parked outside.

  Something in me knew, even as I refused to accept it, deep inside I felt it. My girls were gone and the threads of my sanity snapped in an instant.

  “No, please I don’t want to!”

  I sit bolt upright on the sofa, a thin layer of sweat coating my skin as I try to shake off the memories that torture me while I figure out what woke me. And then I hear it again.

  “No!”

  Jenna.

  I dive off the sofa and hurry down the hall, opening the door to her room and finding her thrashing about, the covers twisted around her body holding her captive.

  Climbing onto the bed behind her, I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly until the fight leaves her and her yells turn into whimpers. Once she’s calm, I move just enough to untangle the blankets and tug them over us before I wrap my arms around her once more.

  She turns and presses close, burying her head against my neck, her nose pressed against my throat before she takes a deep shuddering breath and settles.

  When Jenna first came to stay with me, she was a terrified sixteen-year-old who had been victimized over and over. Not wanting to ever make her feel like I wanted anything like that from her, I would wait for her to settle—much like now—and then I would ease from her bed and return to mine. An hour later, her screams would wake me once more and the process would begin again. Some nights she’d wake screaming five or six times, leaving us both exhausted each morning. In the end, I started staying with her. Wrapping her tightly in my arms seemed to be the only thing that kept the nightmares at bay. It was as if subconsciously she knew she wasn’t alone anymore and she could relax, safe in the knowledge that someone was watching over her.

  Now three years later, it seems I spend more time in Jenna’s bed than
my own.

  What at first had been awkward as hell became the most natural thing in the world. As she settles into me and sleep pulls me under once more, it’s with the knowledge that I might come here to keep Jenna’s monsters at bay, but it has the surprising side effect of beating back my own demons too.

  Chapter Two

  Jenna

  I wake up to find myself pinned to the bed. I have a brief moment of panic before my brain shifts into gear and I remember where I am and who I’m with.

  I relax in an instant and enjoy being close to him while I can. When he wakes up, he’ll pull away, but for these brief moments while he sleeps beside me, I can pretend for a little while that he’s mine.

  I close my eyes and swallow the sudden overwhelming urge to cry. I have everything I’ve ever wanted right at my fingertips, yet I know if I tried to reach out and take it, it would disappear in an instant. That’s what happens with dreams, right?