Page 1 of Beaten

Chapter 1

Jamie

Jack ripped me back to reality by shaking my shoulder. “Jamie, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

I sat up, shoving my brother’s hand away as I sucked air into my lungs and looked around, blinking as my mind slowly realized I was in my bedroom. Not in a parking lot, holding my dead wife.

As I wiped the sweat from my brow, I took a few deep breaths to steady my heartbeat. The memories of Isabelle’s murder by a stalker still haunted me, and while the nightmares occurred less frequently, they were still vivid. Intense. Especially around the anniversary of her death, which was today. The nightmares always left me feeling heart-broken, angry, empty.I should have been able to protect her.But I’d failed, as a cop and a husband.

Jack stood beside me, patiently offering his quiet support.

I rubbed my hands over my face. “Sorry I woke you again.”I probably woke Meg, his fiancé, too. They were living with me, to save money, until they got married in September and moved into their dream home. It helped me too, since I’d invested most of my savings in Sheppard & Sons Investigations, the family business I started with my father four years ago.

“No need to apologize. You want to talk about it?” Jack asked.

“No.” Talking wouldn’t help or bring Isabelle back. “Did I wake Meg?”

“Yeah, but she understands. Can I get you anything?”

My soon to be sister-in-law also suffered from occasional nightmares. It wasn’t surprising, given her history; she’d been trafficked as a teen, kidnapped last year, and witnessed Jack getting shot when we rescued her.

“Nah man, I’m good. Thanks.” I looked at the clock: five-ten.No point in trying to go back to sleep. “I think I'll take a run.” A hard, fast run might help me clear my mind.

“Okay, I’ll brew some coffee.” Jack placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me a brotherly squeeze.

I didn’t run for long, but I pushed myself until my calves burned and my lungs felt like bursting. The dread of the nightmare was still lingering, so I took an ice-cold shower, hoping it’d shock the painful memories out of my head. It didn’t. After dressing in jeans and a polo, I went to the kitchen. The last thing I needed right now was to be alone with my morbid thoughts, even if I didn’t feel like talking.My stomach growled as I inhaled the rich scent of bacon, and fresh coffee.

“Mmm, smells good in here.” I forced myself to smile.

“Morning Jamie, Jack made coffee and breakfast is almost done.” Meg said as she flipped an omelet. Then she walked over and gave me a tight, sisterly hug.

I hugged her back and whispered, “Thanks. I needed that.”

Meg wasn’t my sister-in-law yet, but I already considered her family. When she had needed a place to stay after a mob boss, hellbent on revenge, abducted her and turned her place into a crime scene, we told her she could stay with us while she recovered from her injuries and looked for a new apartment. She never moved out. And over the last six months, I’d grown to love Meg like a little sister.

I released her. “You didn’t have to get up and make me breakfast.”

“I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” Meg threw over her shoulder as she walked back to the stove.

I grinned at her snark.How many times have Jack or I said that to her?I didn’t know, but there was no point in arguing because we only said it when we needed to put an end to her protests. And fair was fair. When she first moved in, Meg had a hard time accepting our help and we soon learned it was easier to shut down her protests rather than try to convince her it was okay to accept our help.

“Thanks,” I said shaking my head, “I’m starving.”

Meg divided the eggs and bacon into three servings, and Jack carried them to the table. “Breakfast is served.”

“Thanks, both of you.” I looked them each in the eye to make sure they understood it was for more than breakfast.

“You’re welcome.” They said in unison.

“Let me know if I can do anything.” Meg said, then added, “Even if it’s just another hug. Okay?”

“Okay.” I smiled and nodded. Meg had a heart of gold.Isabelle would have adored her. And I’d like to think Meg would have liked her too. But we’ll never know, because Isab-.

“Are you visiting the cemetery today?” Jack’s question kept me from sinking too deep in my head. I nodded, but didn’t answer. After a short pause, he added, “Want us to come with you?”

“Thanks, but I’m meeting Isabelle’s parents. I’ll be back for dinner tonight.” We met at her grave every year on the anniversary of her death. I visited a lot more throughout the year, but usually went alone. We’d started the tradition the second year; we’d mourn her death at the cemetery, then celebrate her life at her favorite lunch spot, a small, family-owned restaurant, The Breakfast Joint. They served breakfast all day, and had weekly specials from around the world.

After lunch, I planned on spending some time alone before having dinner with my family. Because cooking was Ma’s love language, she was making some of my favorite foods tonight: her famous lasagna, bacon wrapped jalapeno poppers, homemade garlic bread, and good old-fashioned apple pie. Being surrounded by people wasn’t easy when all I wanted to do was scream, or cry.I’ll probably do both at some point.But it was what I needed. I couldn’t have gottenthrough the last four years without the love and support of my family.

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