All Chapters of Strikethrough Book One - Strike Zone Series: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Chantal didn’t have much time. After his therapy session, Sunny slid into the seat and looked around the office. Alexis sat nearby and offered him a reassuring smile.“Thank you, Miss Chantal. My leg feels better.” He clutched the jar of lotion on his lap as he stretched out his sore thigh. The amputation was just above the knee and Chantal hated seeing those blisters from the prosthetic rub. He needed a better artificial limb.He needed everything she hoped she could give him. His worn clothes looked gray and hung off his thin frame. A bruised cheek spoke of a rough life on the streets. He mentioned recently finding accommodation in a hostel, but worried about his sister’s safety.“You look tired, Sunny. How many hours do you work?”He shrugged a thin shoulder. “Too many. I won’t go back to that orphanage. They tried to take my sister away—spli

That evening, Chantal saw to her mom. After massaging the tight muscles behind her mother’s scapula, and shoulder, Chantal walked to the quiet kitchen and made herself a jelly sandwich. After pouring a glass of milk, she walked over to her small residence. Chantal needed privacy and when they’d first moved into the Jefferson House, she’d been pleased to see the small cottage tucked at the back of the yard. Choosing the quaint lodgings over an elaborate bedroom in the main house, was first met with resistance from her mother. But, as much as Chantal loved helping her mother out, at twenty-eight years old, she needed her own space. Many nights, her mom turned clingy, especially when the nightmares came. She’d call and wake Chantal, asking her to come to her room. Chantal would then doze in a chair as her mother either paced restlessly or rambled on about politics.As she walked past the pool, Chantal glanced at the inviting water, and decided to eat her

This was the worst day of his career. The first time that a principal under his watch had gotten hurt. Gage didn’t care about the implications of his vocational fuck-up. All that mattered was Chantal—an individual who he cared for. An innocent woman cornered by a savage hireling. When he’d turned and seen her on the ground, shattered and hurt… Gage wiped a hand over his face as he pieced together what happened. He sat by Chantal’s side in a sectioned off area of the emergency room. She wouldn’t let go of his hand and knowing it might get him into trouble, he still held on. He’d removed his helmet and ran his other hand through his hair.At some point, he’d need to let go and step back. Slip back into an MSD team leader mode. But she wouldn’t allow anyone else near her. And damn, if he didn’t feel as possessive as all hell. Gage should shut down t

“You can’t squat inside like a caged animal. Come with us to the beach—night swimming.” Kohen tapped Gage on the back. “By the way, you look like shit.”He felt like shit. Gage ignored the medic and focused on the screen. Shifting the laptop away from the prick, he scanned the article looking for seeds of intel on Chantal’s father. By all accounts, the man had been a generous philanthropist who’d raced around the globe helping disadvantaged communities. Henri Durant made his money as a shipping magnate, not a whisper of controversy surrounding his livelihood or charity pursuits. Gage stretched. The dining chair felt as uncomfortable as all hell. “Where did I put that photo of the asshole?”“You mean on this bird’s nest you’ve weaved?” Gannon shifted a pile of papers, and Gage scowled. “I know where

After opening the door, Chantal forgot to breathe. His solid build took up most of her brightly lit porch. Thanks to the humidity and soft rain, his t-shirt clung to a chiseled frame. No armor, just warm skin. Chantal resisted the urge to reach out. Her gaze traveled up to his face and froze. Set in a harsh grimace, his expression savage, Gage looked ready to go to war. “Your neck.”“I know… it looks worse than it feels. Come in.”Chantal stepped aside, yet he didn’t budge. “I can see every fucking finger mark.”“Fun times.” She focused on the pitter-patter of drops bouncing off the gutters. “Jesus, Chants. This isn’t a joke.”“Believe me, I know.” Chantal walked to the small kitchen and picked up her glass of wine.