The American Soldier Collection 18: This Cradle Won't Fall (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever) Read online

  The American Soldier Collection 18:

  This Cradle Won’t Fall

  Evonna “Vye” Colon will do whatever it takes to protect her unborn child from an abusive man heading down a path of destruction. Her only chance of keeping her baby and herself alive is to get as far away from Merdock Mullen as possible. Vye and baby Benny make a grand entrance into Salvation during a dangerous rainstorm, nearly succumbing to the elements. Thank God for American soldiers and five men who never expected to deliver a baby—or to instantly make a bond with Vye and Benny.

  Vye is set on making it as a single mom. She’s not interested in this town rule of guardianship, no matter how attracted she becomes to the McCann brothers. She’s not a good judge of character when it comes to men—her self-confidence and self-esteem is low, never mind these crazy postpartum hormones.

  It will take a little push from the townsfolk, some momentous encounters, and a bit of friendly petting to get her to let down her guard and take a chance…kind of hard when the five men fight their own denial, until jealousy kicks them in the behind and gets them to stake a claim. Salvation is achieved for all of them.

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

  Length: 42,308 words

  THE AMERICAN SOLDIER

  COLLECTION 18: THIS

  CRADLE WON’T FALL

  Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  THE AMERICAN SOLDIER COLLECTION 18: THIS CRADLE

  WON’T FALL

  Copyright © 2017 by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  ISBN: 978-1-64010-445-7

  First Publication: June 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

  [email protected]

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  Dear readers,

  Thank you for purchasing this legal copy of The American Soldier Collection 18: This Cradle Won’t Fall. Is it fate? Is it destiny? Or do our actions, our determination, the paths we choose, predict events that can be changed by one decision, a different route or direction, and is that fate or destiny itself?

  It’s hard to say for sure, but for Vye, her unborn child becomes her focus of survival, of having a better life—a determination of never feeling pain or being treated so badly, beaten so badly, or even trusting a man, another human being, again.

  She decides to make her own destiny instead of falling into the vicious cycle of abuse, even if her baby is the reason why. She trusts no one. She fears so many things, yet her promise that her baby will have a good life, a safe life, a secure future and not the life Vye had back in Pennsylvania, all lead her to an amazing place.

  May you enjoy her journey and the love a mother has for her child, way before her child is even born and in her arms.

  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 This Cradle Won’t Fall 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

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Landmarks

  Cover

  THE AMERICAN SOLDIER

  COLLECTION 18: THIS

  CRADLE WON'T FALL

  DIXIE LYNN DYWER

  Copyright © 2017

  Prologue

  Evonna “Vye” Colon couldn’t stop shaking. She pressed her hand over her round belly as Murdock raged. He was high on something. Again. He was a lunatic, a monster, a manipulator, and her unborn child’s father.

  He kicked her in the upper thigh, too close to the baby. She screamed out and curled into the fetal position on the floor, her back toward him.

  “I’m fucked! I’m so fucking screwed. They want their money and Detrix is nowhere to be found. Fuck!” he roared and kicked her again. Her spine tingled, the aches and pains paralyzed her and she lost her breath. She lay there, her cheek to the floor, blood dripping from her lip, eye swollen, and heart hammering inside of her chest. Murdock Mullen was insane.

  “Are you even listening to me, bitch!” he roared and pulled her shoulder back, causing her to fall to her back. She covered her belly—she couldn’t breathe in this position. He stared at her.

  “Murdock, please. The baby,” she said, teeth chattering.

  He glared at her. He looked at her with disgust, just as he had done the moment she told him she was pregnant, seven long months ago. The abuse increased instead of decreasing. At first, he seemed proud. Talked about it being a boy. Then his business expanded. He owned several dry cleaners in Pennsylvania and a vending machine company. He made great money but he got involved with bad people—loan sharks, gamblers, drug dealers, and thugs. He’d invested money in some rapper who was supposed to make it big and just as a record deal hit, the rapper got cocky. He started celebrating with money he
hadn’t earned and then overdosed on LSD.

  She swallowed hard.

  “I should fucking beat that baby out of you already. You’re fat, unappealing. I have desires, Vye.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. He was cheating on her. She knew, and last night she’d caught him screwing some woman from behind in the back room of the bar they were at. Her skirt lifted, her top undone, and his hands cupping the woman’s breasts, his hips rocking hard into her from behind. Vye had wanted the floor to swallow her up as Detrix spotted her in the doorway and gazed over her body, smirking.

  She didn’t trust him. Never had, and she didn’t care for the way he watched her even before she got pregnant. It was like he was waiting to make some kind of move. There was a time Murdock would kill any man who looked at her, aside from Detrix, who he shared everything with. And he was why Murdock had gotten in over his head. She despised all of them. She needed to get out of here. To disappear, and soon.

  “Say something. Fucking respond to me. You don’t say anything to me.”

  “You don’t care about me, or this baby, Murdock. Let me go. Let me leave and move on so you can have your whores, your drugs, and whatever else you’re dealing. Let me and the baby go.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her and she readjusted her position. He just stared at her with his hands on his hips. Those wide shoulders, the muscles from steroid use, the dark eyes and thick black hair, he was a monster. At one point a soldier, but left the service after only a two-year stint to take over his father’s business. That’s how he met Nuvon Perchavek, a loan shark, a business investor, and the man who owned Murdock and had a hand in all his business earnings. He made a deal with the devil and Murdock was never getting out from Nuvon’s thumb.

  “I told you I didn’t want that baby. I gave you the money to handle it.” She gulped and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “It’s a life. It was created when we made love,” she said, hoping that it would ease his intensity, calm his anger, and make him see that he was going to be a father and that he couldn’t strike her. She knew better. She knew that if he could so easily strike her, beat her, cheat on her, and hurt her, then he would hurt the baby. It was getting closer. The aches, the Braxton Hicks already starting. She wasn’t going to have this baby prematurely and wind up with more problems.

  She’d saved money. She’d stolen money from him without him knowing it. She’d made a plan. Although she couldn’t go far, she would need to get away from Pennsylvania and get someplace safe. Her aunt Gay lived in New York. She could make that trek. Have the baby there. Maybe work while she paid her aunt to babysit. It was going to be rough. She didn’t love Murdock anymore. She wasn’t going to be one of those women. The ones that hung out holding a kid on their laps while their boyfriends, their baby-daddies, flirted with other women, or even fucked them in the back rooms of bars.

  She felt sick. She gave up her dreams, her goals in life for him. She’d had one more college class to complete to achieve her degree in finance. One more and she would have had a college diploma. Here she was, seven months pregnant, twenty-three years old, and involved with an abusive, criminal asshole who cheated on her and beat her as she sat on the dirty floor in the back room of a club while he drank and shot up with drugs.

  “Are you even fucking listening to me?” he yelled at her, then struck her in the head.

  She gasped and slid under the table, grabbed onto the pole underneath, and cried.

  “Stupid, fat, fucking cunt. Leave. You want to fucking leave me? You want to take my kid and leave? I’ll hunt you down, and I’ll slit your throat and kill that fucking thing. You understand me?”

  He raged. The steroids, the drugs all running rampant through his system making him act and sound like a mad man.

  She couldn’t even see she was crying so hard. This was the worst he had ever been—the meanest, the most despicable—and she’d had it. She hugged the bar as he tried kicking at her but couldn’t reach her. Then his cell phone rang. He answered it and she watched him, heard him carrying on, and then open the black box. He pulled out more drugs and lined the little mirror with the white powder. He spoke on the phone with one hand while he held one nostril and snorted coke with the other. He sniffed. That sound, the sight of him disgusted her.

  “I thought we were getting paid more than that? We owe a hundred grand to them. This fucking job was risky. What the fuck are we going to do? Don’t tell me to calm down, asshole. You better have a plan. Chicago? Are you fucking serious? Fine. I’m here.”

  He carried on over the phone, and she heard everything he was saying. Was he going to Chicago? When? She could make her move then if it were coming up this week. He fell down onto the couch. She turned, still laying on the floor like some beaten down animal. She was ashamed of herself. Of what she allowed this man to do to her in such little time. She was better than this. Her baby deserved better than this life. She watched him under the cover of the table. He ran his hand over his face, his legs were spread wide, the other hand on his lap. He closed his eyes, falling into the power of the drugs he snorted.

  She hated him. Despised him. He was no longer the handsome, caring, hardworking soldier she had met one night at a club during college. He’d changed. He demanded, he commanded, and she fell for the masculinity, the sexiness, and his lies. Lies to get her into bed, to gain her trust, and then possess her in every way. This was not her life. This was not where she was meant to be. She ran her hand over her belly and rocked.

  I’m going to get you out of here. We deserve better, baby. Don’t you worry. Mamma’s been scared and stupid, but I want a better life for you. I don’t want you around this. I don’t want him to hurt or kill you. I’m going to take you away from here and away from him. You deserve a chance. You deserve to be safe and to be loved. Your daddy doesn’t love you or me, and that isn’t right or fair. It’s going to be tough, but we’ve got one another. I’ll always protect you, baby. I’ve been scared stupid too long. It’s time to take control back and fight for a better life. For a good life like you deserve. A chance to make it, and to succeed and be loved, not abused, neglected, or possibly killed.

  Tears flowed and she waited, just waited for the opportunity to leave. She was exhausted from crying when she felt the kick to her side and the table wobble.

  “I’m leaving. Got to meet up with Detrix and figure this shit out. Go to the apartment, stay there, and wait for me. Get that body ready to please me. You need to have that fucking baby soon and maybe get rid of it. Put it up for adoption or some shit. I don’t need to worry about taking care of the fucking thing. I don’t even know if it’s mine. Get the fuck up and go,” he yelled.

  A strike to her heart. Not yours? Who else’s would it be, you asshole. I’ve always been faithful, but not you. Not you. I hate you. I’m not giving this baby up. I’m giving you up. I’m outta here, and you can go to hell.

  Chapter One

  Brady held Donata in his arms and against his chest in bed. He ran his hand along her ass and then up her back. She clung to him, kissed his bare skin, and snuggled close. That uneasy feeling had just about disappeared until the discussion a week ago about going back to New York and him, Bailey, and Slogan working for Mateus and Major Fiorre after meeting them months ago. The Fiorres had a special project, a new club and restaurant opening up called Bella Amore. Of course named after their woman, who was going to manage the club with her friend’s assistance and Donata’s.

  He, Slogan, and Bailey were struggling with giving up their military missions and taking chances. They wouldn’t risk being hurt or killed now that Donata was in their lives. The last several months had been tough, with her recovering from her injuries and the attack, never mind how she killed those men to survive. She could have died out there in that truck if they hadn’t had so many people searching, and their good friend Ford, his men, and the people of Salvation all looking for her.

  He swallowed hard and kissed the top of her head. He eased his fingers alo
ng the scar on her side from the knife wound. Twenty-seven stitches, three visits to a plastic surgeon, and lots of ointment and cream, but a scar would remain there. A faint reminder of her near-death experience and the men wanting to make her theirs by raping her.

  Would she be safe in New York? Could they protect her while working? He talked with his brothers and his cousins to work out a schedule. Mateus and Major were on board, too, and Donata would be working at the club helping Bella to get things started. She’d help with hiring people and training them. Him and his brothers would help with security and setting things up, then with monitoring the business transactions that took place in the back offices. Their jokes about being made men and being pussies were proving to be bullshit. Made men had clout, got respect, and their jobs somewhat dangerous.

  “I guess we should get up. There’s still a bunch to do before we leave for the airport,” she said rolled to her back before climbing off the bed. Brady gripped her and rolled her back toward him, pressing between her legs. She smiled up at him and cupped his cheek, those smoky green eyes holding his gaze.

  “I love you, baby,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too,” she said and stared into his eyes as if trying to read his mind. She stroked his cheek and squinted.

  “It will be okay. We’ll all be there together. We’ll work out plans to always be in sight of one another. I mean, come on, Brady, there are seven of you. Certainly there won’t be a time when none of you are near me.”

  “Oh really? You’re so sure? I mean, it’s a club and restaurant. It will get crowded and we could lose sight of you momentarily. What if some guy hits on you, or someone tries to grab your ass?”