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  Ajax

  K. Cantrell

  Book Name: Ajax

  Author Name: K. Cantrell

  Copyright:

  AJAX

  Copyright © 2017 KAT CANTRELL

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writers imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Edited by Kimberly Cannon

  Cover by Croco Designs

  Contents

  Ajax

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  About K. Cantrell

  More from Intergalactic Dating Agency

  Looking for love on all the wrong planets…

  When Brooklyn Carter flees from an abusive ex, a friend suggests the perfect bodyguard—an honest-to-goodness alien. Ajax is built like a tank, willing to do the job in exchange for a green card marriage, and best of all, he can’t and won’t touch her. His genetic modifications give him super strength, which means he carefully avoids all contact with fragile humans. But once they start spending time together, Brooklyn begins to wonder what it would be like if he could touch her. Now all she can think about is exactly that…and how to trade safety for the courage to go after what she wants.

  Olympia Alien Mail Order Brides:

  Eros

  Ares

  Ajax

  One

  The lawyer I hired to file the restraining order against Malcolm has nothing in her reception area but outdated Good Housekeeping magazines, and that’s not even the worst part. I’ve read them all. Twice. That’s how I know the article about loneliness is on page 47 of the August 2009 issue.

  The headline reads: “Being alone for a long time is as bad for your health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day.”

  I laugh a little bit when I read it because I’m convinced being alone has increased my life expectancy. Malcolm would have eventually gone too far and hurt me really badly or maybe even killed me. I don’t believe for a second that he’s going to honor a restraining order, but I have to put it in place so there’s legal ground to arrest him the next time he threatens me.

  That’s not an if, it’s a when.

  The shudder that rocks my shoulders has happened so often lately that it feels almost normal. I’m learning to live with the fear and the inability to feel safe anywhere, least of all in my own body. I don’t like it. But I like taking action and after the last year of feeling like I had no choices, any forward motion is welcome.

  This lawyer is charging me practically nothing, so I don’t mind waiting. After I have read August 2009 in its entirety for the third time, the paralegal who doubles as the receptionist calls out to me.

  “She’ll see you now, Brooklyn.”

  I nod and climb out of the worn chair to traipse the half a dozen steps to the back of the lawyer’s office. Probably I could file the paperwork myself but I wanted every i dotted and t crossed. If Malcolm gets off scot-free the next time he tries to hurt me because of some mistake I’ve made, that would end me.

  The lawyer tells me the papers are filed and that she’s going serve them to Malcolm at nine o’clock the next morning. That sinks in. Someone in an official capacity is going to track my ex-boyfriend down and hand him papers that will clue him in that I’ve filed a restraining order. That he can’t come near me again or there will be legal consequences. Above all, there is a record in the court system that he’s a threat.

  He is not going to like that. At all. It’ll probably enrage him beyond anything I’ve ever done before.

  I second-guess myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this. But Penelope and Clementine talked me into it and I haven’t had many friends I can count on to have my back. Even though we haven’t really been in contact since high school, they’ve been lifelines as I try to navigate a post-Malcolm existence that feels both liberating and frightening at the same time.

  The lawyer finishes up the session and before I am fully ready, I have no excuse to linger in her office. The sky is gray outside, just as it is nearly every day, but I long for the sun all at once. A rarity in the rain forest. Olympia is a great place to live if you like trees, which I do, but a terrible place to live if you have an abusive ex-boyfriend who is a short drive away in Seattle.

  I grew up here in this town but fled for the bigger city as soon as I could. Since that got me nothing but a life put on hold, a year of wearing sunglasses to hide the bruising—which is really hard to pull off when it rains nine months a year—and a fear of men’s hands, I came home. Where else do you start over? I’m still finding my feet and I have no illusions that I’ve fooled Malcolm into thinking I’ve vanished. He probably knows exactly where I am.

  A greasy, slick wave coats my stomach as I pull into a parking place at my apartment complex near the water. I came to Olympia to find a measure of peace and thus far, that’s not happening.

  Somehow I survive the rest of the day. I don’t sleep well that night because I’m counting down the hours until Malcolm is served. But I make it to dawn without throwing up, so that’s a plus.

  Right around the time when someone official should be knocking on Malcolm’s door, my phone buzzes with an incoming text message, enough of a rarity these days that I check it immediately. It’s Clem. Hey, mind if I come by for a sec?

  I’m not sure what to say to that.

  Clementine’s friendship is still new and I don’t know the ins and outs yet of being more than acquaintances. Can I tell her no, my stomach feels like it has been put through a hamburger meat grinder? Or is this the part where I need a friend and she is one?

  Malcolm stripped away all my friends that I’d made in Seattle slowly but surely. The fewer people I had around me who might say something negative about him or try to convince me to leave him, the better in his mind.

  I type: no, please come by! and hit send before I can change my mind.

  Making my own decisions still gives me a rush. How sad is that? I should want more for myself, shouldn’t I? But simple pleasures are a thing again that no one can take away. I bask in the knowledge that I have both a friend and the ability to spend time with her whenever I want.

  Clem knocks on the door of my apartment within thirty minutes. I’m an insurance agent and work at home. It’s a steady, paint by numbers kind of job that provides the security I desperately need. It’s a blessing that I was able to pick up and move with minimal disruption to my job.

  That’s the only thing that had minimal disruption. But I don’t worry about that now.

  Clem is not alone. I flinch automatically and my fight or flight response picks back-the-heck up as I eye the massive man at her side. My arm stretches tight because I can’t loosen my grip on the doorknob and neither can I stop backing up.

  He’s big. Like he could break me in half without very much effort. Not only is he built from the same mold as a linebacker, he’s extraordinarily tall.

  “This is Ares,” Clem says calmly as if I hadn’t just freaked out. And then the meaning of her statement sinks in. I stop retreating.

  Ares is Clem’s husband, whom I haven’t met yet. My spine relaxes an iota. “I’m sorry. I was expecting you to be alone.”

  “I should have told you I was br
inging company,” Clem says, her tone easy. “We wanted to talk to you together, though. I asked Ares for an unorthodox solution to your problem and well…it finally came through.”

  I stare at Clem but her statement doesn’t get any clearer. “Which problem is this?”

  Ares scowls and it takes considerable effort not to step back again. Clem is desperately in love with her husband and he’s a sweetheart. She’s told me this many times. I repeat it to myself.

  “The one regarding the human male who harms you,” he growls. His accent is indescribable, as if someone threw all the harsh syllables in the world into a bucket, swirled and then dumped them down his throat.

  “Your ex,” Clem throws in hastily with a loaded glance at Ares. “And of course he’s human. Can we come in? Just for a few minutes. I’ll sit between you and my darling husband.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I say and mean it.

  This is where I can practice being brave around men. I need a lot of practice at that. Especially when the man in question is big and obviously not American. Who qualifies people as human?

  I open the door wider and admit them both, proud of myself for not giving Ares a wider berth. I offer drinks and they decline, settling into the couch like a couple who isn’t afraid to be cozy around other people. Clem’s hand rests on Ares’s thigh, which I’m ashamed to say I only noted because it highlights the girth of the man’s leg. To someone who is not a victim of domestic abuse, it might be considered sweet, but I’m too busy automatically gauging any and all potential threats to properly catalog it.

  “So you might have noticed something a little different about Ares,” Clem says cheerfully, her usual default.

  “You might say,” I murmur, not sure how honest I’m supposed to be that he’s not the kind of guy I want to meet in a well-lit Walmart aisle, let alone a dark alley.

  “It’s because he’s…not from around here,” she explains without really explaining. “And because he comes from a military background.”

  “A foreign army.” I nod agreeably. That makes sense. Maybe Russian or Ukrainian or something, which would explain his accent.

  “Very foreign.” Clem clears her throat. “He has a friend who wants to…defect to America and he’s looking for honest work in exchange for a green card. This friend would gladly take on the role of your bodyguard if you were in the market. Ares has already talked to him.”

  What, so she aired my dirty laundry to her husband’s friend? My eyes shut automatically for fortification that doesn’t come. Though I know her heart is in the right place, I wish she hadn’t done that. “That’s really nice of you. But I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  Not really, right? I mean, Malcolm probably knows I came home to Olympia, but it’s been three weeks and I haven’t heard a peep. Maybe the restraining order will do exactly what it’s supposed to and he’ll never come near me again.

  Maybe unicorns will fly across the sky and rain glitter down on the citizens of Olympia.

  “Well, maybe not,” Clem says matter of fact. “But keep in mind that you’re doing him a service too. He’s trying to escape a really bad situation back where he came from and it’s safest for him if he’s in America, living a normal, low-profile life.”

  The word safe triggers all sorts of emotional responses that I can’t stop. Not the least of which has my heart nearly twisting out of my chest. Poor guy. I immediately want to help him, as I’m sure Clem intended. “What’s he running from?”

  “My people’s government,” Ares rumbles. “He is the product of genetic experimentation and they will want him back.”

  That sounds like something I do not want to get into the middle of. Genetic experimentation? What is this, the precursor to a superhero movie? Next they’re going to tell me this guy has the ability to bend steel and see through walls. “Sounds like he needs someone to protect him, not the other way around.”

  “That’s right, he does.” Clem nods encouragingly. “You. I met Ares through a special matchmaking agency that helps place these guys who come here seeking asylum. All you have to do is marry Ajax so he can get a green card.”

  “Ajax? Like the dish soap?”

  My head is spinning. Marriage is part of this deal. Like a real marriage and everything. That’s where I draw the line. I cannot fathom how to be brave enough to handle marriage. Malcolm asked me to marry him several times but I had already clued in that I needed to figure out how to get away from him, not bind myself to him permanently.

  Marriage is forever. At least it is for me.

  I stand. “I appreciate this, I really do, but you realize how crazy all of this is, right?”

  Clem and Ares don’t move, both staring up at me calmly as if I’m the one who doesn’t get it. Ares’s gaze glitters with something strangely compelling, and I really look at him for the first time. There’s something off about him that I can’t put my finger on, and which I think I subconsciously attributed to his foreign ancestry, but it’s more than that.

  He has a presence I can’t explain. Plus, he’s ultra-confident in his skin, relaxing on my couch with no spare movements. I can believe he comes from a military background and his friend is probably cut from the same cloth.

  “Think about it,” Clem says. “This is a situation tailor made for you. You both need each other. He doesn’t know our culture and probably not even our language, and it’ll be up to you to guide him through assimilation into America. It’s a lot to take on, but in exchange, you’ll have someone who is on your side, who is dedicated to keeping you as safe as you’re keeping him.”

  Her argument shouldn’t make me weaken all at once. But it does. I like the idea of being safe, of being a unit with someone else against the evils lurking outside my door. I wouldn’t be alone, and I wouldn’t have to spend the energy blazing through courtship rituals that I have no interest in. At least I think I wouldn’t.

  “To clarify,” I say, hardly able to believe I’m considering this insanity. “It would be a marriage in name only, right? So he could stay in the country? He doesn’t expect that we’ll have a real marriage.”

  Clem and Ares glance at each other, which doesn’t comfort me.

  “It’s whatever you make of it,” Clem says finally and wags a finger between her chest and the giant in the seat next to her. “Our marriage wasn’t supposed to be anything more than that. But things happen and we fell in love. That might be the case with you too, if you leave the possibility open.”

  Uh, no. That is not on the table. I shake my head. “It’s not possible. As long as he understands that.”

  “Does that mean you’re willing to meet him?” Clem asks hopefully. “He’s pretty eager to meet you.”

  My head spins some more. “I don’t know.”

  Clem climbs off the couch and crosses to me where I’m standing near the TV. “Just meet him. You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t like him or the situation makes you uncomfortable.”

  I have a feeling meeting this guy won’t change my comfort level, at least not to the good.

  “If your life is in danger,” Ares says in the pause. “You will not find a better protector than Ajax.”

  Clem nods. “Ares’s friend is built like him. Plus, Ajax has a genetic deformity due to the experimentation that gives him extreme strength. He has committed to using it for your benefit.”

  Oh, sure. Sign me up to marry the freakishly strong foreigner who has probably lied seven ways to Sunday in order to escape his personal situation. I know I did. A lot. There was no other way to throw Malcolm off the scent than to get really good at convincing him I was going to the grocery store when I was really signing the lease to my new apartment or applying for a credit card in my name that would be sent to the post office box I rented on the sly.

  “I appreciate your concern,” I say honestly, because I do. “It’s really great of you to match me up with a bodyguard. I’ll think about it.”

  I’ll do nothing of the sort. It’s lunacy.
I can’t marry a stranger. It’s entirely too intimate of a situation and I don’t do intimacy well. Not anymore. Plus, I’d have zero control. That alone is enough to put me off the idea.

  Clem and Ares leave. The room is suddenly very empty of people and I sit back down on the couch with my head in my hands. My life has spiraled out of control so many times over the past year. Finally I have gotten it under control and I like that I get to make all of my own choices based on what I want, what I think is best. No one else gets to have a say. Malcolm controlled every aspect of my existence until I snapped. I will never readily sign up for that again.

  I go in search of my phone, thinking I should eat something. Speaking of choices, I can have anything I want to eat delivered or find a place to go if I decide to go out. I can buy whatever I want at the grocery store and cook it without worrying how it will be received.

  But when I pick up my phone, I see several missed calls and unread text messages. A chill grabs my spine and slides downward as I tap the icon to bring up the messages.

  Ugly, filthy words and threats fill the screen and I don’t need to keep reading to know that Malcolm has not only discovered my new phone number, he’s been served with the papers detailing the restraining order. And he does not plan to comply.

  My hands start to shake as I clear all of the messages and block the number, which only means that I will no longer have any way to be notified when he’s coming after me.

  I text Clem: I’ll meet your husband’s friend.

  Two

  An hour later, Clem comes by to pick me up, but this time, she’s minus her husband. I’m not sure if she did that for me or not, but I appreciate it enough to smile my thanks.

  I spent the last sixty minutes huddled on the couch, unable to log into my computer to do even a speck of work, though I have a crap-ton to do since I took yesterday off to visit the lawyer’s office. Malcolm completely derailed me. It’s what he does, what he’s best at. The messages are only the beginning of a cycle of fear and intimidation.