Page 38 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

Brent has been watching them both carefully. He is a smart man. He has to have picked up on the fact Troy is leaving details out of the story. To his credit, he seems to be choosing his questions carefully. “I see. Did the intruder knock first or just come in?”

Traci answers quietly. “She didn’t knock, no.”

“Can I ask why the door wasn’t locked? It was after midnight, right?”

“Traci and I were… talking. She hadn’t been home long at that point and I would have secured all the doors before we went to bed.” Troy’s answer seems to placate the tall man for a minute.

“Why didn’t you just call 911 to report the break-in?”

Troy is surprised. Calling the police had honestly never even crossed his mind. “If you’d seen her, you wouldn’t have called the police either. She’s a little waif of a thing. She didn’t have any weapons. She was shaking from head to toe. Frozen like a popsicle. It’s clear she needs help.”

“What is her condition now?” Brent has turned to Traci, wanting her to answer as the professional in the room.

“She’s asleep. Marcus gave her some pain meds. He’s gone to his office to bring back some additional supplies. We have her changed out of her wet clothes and are warming her with warming blankets. My guess is she wasn’t dressed to be outside but must have had car troubles that forced her to walk for help. My house is the first one people come to when they come in on Spanking Loop and since we had our lights on, well I think she just was coming to get some help.”

The Eagle’s Pass founding father seems satisfied with that answer. Troy is relieved. He doesn’t really want anyone else to know about his sister’s foolish decisions last night and the punishment he had delivered. He still knows he had done the right thing, but that doesn’t mean anyone beside him and his sister need to be privy to it. Between her shower, punishment and the commotion, the effects of her alcoholic bender have dissipated.

“I’m gonna have to give my friends with the sheriff’s department a call and let them know this happened.” Troy is not happy and Brent holds up his hand. “I can see you don’t like that idea, Troy, but we need to get some help to find out who this young woman is. Her family might be looking for her. Wouldn’t you want to know they had found your loved one safe if you were expecting them and they were delayed like this?”

Troy hates to admit it, but Brent’s logic is spot on. Unfortunately, the thought of some abusive family member looking for her so they can have her home to hurt her more pisses Troy off. “You’re right. We do need to find out who she is, but we’re not going to just ship her off home. Did Traci tell you they found signs she had been abused before coming to Eagle’s Pass?”

Brent scowls. “No. That’s new info.” The front door opens and the doctor rushes in then slams the door closed quickly to stop more snow from blowing in. Brent then finishes his thought. “I guess it’s more important than ever that we get the police involved so we can find out who she is.”

“She’s Hallie Boudreaux. She is twenty-three years old and lives in Santa Monica, California.” All three people in the kitchen turn to stare at the doctor in shock before he explains. “I found her purse buried out in the snow. She must have dropped it before she came inside.” He holds up a wallet as if to support his claim.

Troy is sure they are all four thinking the same thing. How the hell does a twenty-three-year-old woman from California show up on foot in Eagle’s Pass in the middle of the night? The one thing Troy is sure of is that Hallie Boudreaux is running from something… or someone. Troy had seen fear in her eyes and for some reason, it haunts him. Someone has hurt her and while he may not understand how or why, he does know that he’s going to have to find them and make them pay.

Standing to leave, Brent sighs. “All right. It sounds like the three of you have things under control here. Keep her comfortable and safe for the night, and I’m gonna go home and call my buddies with the sheriff’s department and get them working on finding out what they can about Miss Hallie Boudreaux. I’ll be back in the morning and we can hopefully talk with her by then and try to get to the bottom of what’s going on. Sound like a plan?”

Troy sees why the tall man is in charge. He would have done well in the military. The doctor is the one who responds. “It’s a plan, Brent. I’m going to get her IV going and then I’ll sleep here to keep an eye on her.”

Before he stops to check his tone, Troy butts in. “Thanks for starting the IV, but I’ll be sleeping in the armchair in her room tonight. I’ll keep an eye on her and if I need help, I’ll wake up Traci and we’ll give you a call.” As the three other people in the room look at him strangely, he tries to downplay things. “Listen, I saw the fear in her eyes just before she collapsed. I don’t know why, but I feel like she came here for a reason and I’m supposed to protect her until she can be up and on her own two feet. Really. I was gonna sleep in the guest room anyway so let me do that and you two go home to get a few hours of sleep with your families.”

Marcus and Brent share a knowing look before agreeing. “Fine. We’ll be back in the morning then.”

Chapter Four

Pain is the first thing to pry Hallie awake, followed closely by an urgent need to pee. She opens her eyes for a split second before the light pouring through the nearby curtains feels like it’s burning her eyeballs and she snaps her eyes closed with a moan.

Her head is throbbing. She suspects the pain might be caused by more than just her normal morning caffeine addiction. Everything seems fuzzy and she takes a few minutes to try to piece together where she is. Memories of the car accident and being freezing cold come back to her followed by memories of a tall stranger with chocolate brown eyes. Unfortunately, she also remembers his brown belt that he’d wielded with practiced skill.

All men are assholes.

As much as she dreads trying to navigate out of bed with her head feeling like a ticking time bomb, the urge to pee wins. Opening her eyes slowly, allowing time to adjust to the daylight, Hallie gasps when she realizes she’s not alone in the room. Propped up rather uncomfortably in the cushioned armchair at the foot of her bed is none other than the man of the house. What was his name again? Oh yes. Troy.

I wish it were Fred or something gross. I’ve always liked the name Troy, but now he’s ruined it.

The sad thing is, he looks like a Troy. At least the kind of guy she would match with the name. She’s glad he’s asleep, not only because she wants no part of being in a room with him alone, but also so she has a few minutes to check him out without fear.

She remembers him being tall, but then again, at five foot one, everyone seems tall to her. She can see his long legs are stretched out as he lays his head on the back cushion of the chair. He doesn’t look so scary now. In fact, he looks peaceful in sleep. His strong jaw is covered with a sexy, scruffy beard and his dark hair is cropped short. He’s still dressed in the mint-green dress shirt and dark slacks he had on the night before.

Definitely not a scruffy musician.

That realization actually works in his favor with Hallie. She’s had her fill of musicians to last her lifetime. Then it hits her. She’d hoped getting away from Eddie and the band would help her feel safe, yet the very first people she meets in what was to be her new hometown turn out to be in just as an abusive relationship as she had been in California. It’s just another sad realization that since she lost her grandmother, violence seems to follow her wherever she goes.

The need to pee jars her out of her trip down memory lane. As Hallie makes her first attempt to get out of bed, she realizes she’s tethered to an IV bag, courtesy of the needle lodged in the top of her left hand. She’s glad they had knocked her out when the doctor put that in. She hates needles.

Even though it will mean taking the long way around the bed to get out the door in search of a bathroom, Hallie knows she needs to stick with her IV stand. Pulling it out is the only thing worse than having it in. Pushing the warm covers off, she gets a look at the long flannel nightgown someone had dressed her in the night before. She’s praying it was the woman named Traci and not her husband, Troy.

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