WARNINGS: Some violence and a bit of not-too explicit smut towards the end of the chapter. Don't like, don't read. It's pretty much just a preview of what will come in later chapters.
Kruger cared about his men. They were the best friends he'd ever had and he'd certainly never had any friends before he'd met them. As a kid, he'd been outcast due to his having to live on his own in a small shack outside what used to be Johannesburg. He'd never met his asshole of a father and his mother had died of syphilis when he was five years old. He'd been forced to take care of himself from hence forward and it hadn't been easy nor had it been pretty. He'd learned from a very early age to depend only on himself and how to kill for his food.
He'd grown accustomed to that lifestyle and had even begun to enjoy it. But one day - while he'd been distracted by a pretty little cullis - he'd foolishly stumbled into a bear trap. The man who'd caught him had taken him in and taught him the ways of life in some extremely graphic ways that Kruger would never forget. Then, on young Kruger's eighth birthday, he was sent off to the military, who were so desperate for new recruits that they were paying hefty sums for even unwanted little boys.
Three years - consisting of hacking up enemies and leaving their corpses to the birds - into the military, Kruger had been transferred to new sleeping quarters, where he'd been introduced to Drake and Crowe, who'd been bunking together for years. It had taken Kruger quite a few months to earn their admiration and loyalty, but by God he had done it. After that, the three of them had been nearly inseparable.
Kruger would never admit to weakness of any kind - let alone to caring about anyone other than himself - to anyone, but he'd never felt so helpless as he did at that moment watching Drake's neck slowly twist on his shoulders, skin stretching as bones started to crack.
"Drakey!" Crowe yelled, anguish filling his voice. An anguish that Kruger felt deep in his own cold, black heart, but one he would never express openly.
A blast of gunfire suddenly rang through the air, alarming Kruger and Crowe, making them jump. They each automatically checked themselves for signs of a gunshot wound, but they found none. They looked up and bothed stared - stunned - as the man who'd been seconds away from breaking Drake's neck slumped to the ground lifelessly, bullet hole directly in the middle of his forehead.
Crowe's bewildered expression - hazel eyes filling quickly with relief - met Kruger's. They shrugged as they silently questioned each other and then turned as one to the front door of their house, where a shaky Sharra lowered her trembling right hand, which held a small handgun.
The men stared at her in dumbfounded shock - even Sharra looked shocked at what she'd done. Her hold on the gun loosened and it fell to the ground; it was a miracle it didn't discharge any more bullets. Her face had turned an ashen white shade as she fell against the side of the house and wrapped her arms around her midsection, shivering violently.
Kruger quickly closed his gaping mouth and slowly forced himself to his feet. He noted that Drake was up and on his feet, well enough to lift the metal fragment off of Crowe's legs, so he limped over to where Sharra was slouching and gently pried her arms from her hips. She barely reacted to his presence or his touch, still staring shell-shocked at the man that she had killed.
Pulling her away from the gruesome scene of carnage in front of her, Kruger led Sharra through the house to the master bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed.
"You saved Drakey," was all he managed to get out before bending down to lay a heady kiss full of grateful longing to her mouth. She didn't fight him, but she didn't respond either. Kruger didn't care either way because he pulled back just as quickly as he'd started.
"Go take a shower," Kruger said in a soft, placating tone of voice. "The boys and I have a huge fokken mess to clean up."
Sharra was barely aware of the warm water droplets raining down over her slick, naked body. She just stared blankly at the tiled wall in front of her, fighting vigorously against the goosebumps that threatened to break out over her skin. Her legs were trembling and her nails were digging so deeply into her arms they were practically embedded into her flesh. Her ears were still ringing from the loud gunshot, but it was starting to fade now.
She'd never killed anyone before. She'd never even hit anyone before. She wasn't a violent person by any means. The closest she'd come to being violent was when she'd fought against Kruger and his henchmen. She didn't know how to feel about it all. She knew what she should feel - disgust at herself, shame, guilt - but she felt none of those things. In fact, she felt numb. Physically and emotionally numb.
She was so numbly absent to the world that she was unaware of how long she'd been standing beneath the showerhead; so she was startled when a hand reached into the stall to shut the water off and then that same hand eased her out of the stall and into the slightly cooler temperature of the bathroom itself.
Sharra looked up blankly as Kruger wrapped a fluffy white towel around her shoulders without missing a beat. His eyes were surprisingly expressive as he stared down at her, hands rubbing the towel against her wet shoulders to dry them.
When he spoke, his voice was as soft as it could be for a man with such a gruff exterior; almost concerned even. "You still in there, bokkie?" He tapped pointedly on her forehead.
She nodded absently, but remained quiet.
Kruger sighed as he continued to run the towel along her shoulders and then up into her hair. He knew she was still in shock over having taken a human life, but he couldn't think of anything that he could say that would be of any comfort. The first time he'd killed a man, he'd been over the fucking moon about it and had eagerly anticipated his next kill. Drake and Crowe had been the same way.
But Sharra wasn't like them. She wasn't a brutal, vicious killer. She was probably one of those women who flinched at just the thought of having to squash a bug to death. She was innocent and that in and of itself seemed to appeal to Kruger. It appealed to that protective male instinct inside of him that had never been touched upon before.
This wasn't good, of course. No good could possibly come of this. She was burrowing her way under his skin and in a matter of less than a week. He'd known from the instant he'd set eyes on her that she was meant to be his. It was just one of those damn things a person just...knew.
Kruger guided Sharra into the bedroom and gently lowered her - again - onto the mattress. He left her sitting there as he went to rummage through the bag he'd made her pack when he'd ripped her out of her home. He grabbed up a pair of panties - lingering momentarily to caress the silky material between his fingers - a bra, a pair of jean shorts, and a purple tank top. He straightened up and set the pile down next to her.
"Get dressed," he ordered softly. "And then join us out in the backyard."
Sharra cleared her throat and finally blinked some of the fog away. "You - you got all the bodies cleared away?"
Kruger chuckled and ran the tip of his index finger down the smooth apple of her cheek. "They're all gone, bokkie. You won't be out there tripping over any body parts; I promise."
Sharra nodded with a shudder and waited for him to leave before she dropped the towel and proceeded to dress.
Kruger, Crowe, and Drake were dancing around a barbecue pit with a few of their neighbors when Sharra cautiously stepped out of the house. All eyes fell on her immediately and she shuffled her feet nervously under the unwelcome onslaught of attention. They all looked at her like she was some sort of...savior.
"Come have a drink with us, choty goty!" Drake cried as he skipped over to grip her by the elbow. Based on the way his words slurred and the fact that he tripped over his left foot as he led her to the others, Sharra could tell that he was far past intoxicated.
"This is the little geliefde who saved my boy Drakey!" Kruger crowed loudly, pulling Sharra to his side and draping his arm over her shoulders. "Let's get her a beer, boys!"
As Crowe left to retrieve her a beer, Kruger rattled off a list of names that Sharra would never be able to remember and then led her over to one of the lawn chairs scattered all over the yard. He eased her down into the chair and then took the seat next to her. He cracked open a fresh bottle of beer of his own and threw his head back to chug down half of it in one swallow.
Sharra accepted the beer Crowe held out to her with a grateful nod of thanks. She twisted the cap off, took an almost dainty sip of the foul liquid, and then made a face as the taste washed down her throat. It was bitter and left a funny taste in her mouth and caused all the men around her to laugh at her contorted expression of disgust. Still - alcohol was alcohol. And she could damn sure use a shitload of it.
She downed the bottle surprisingly fast and then turned to Kruger. "Have anything stronger?"
Chuckling, Kruger stood to his feet. "Like the stronger dop, eh? My kind of girl." He was gone less than a minute before he returned with a large, half-full bottle of pure vodka and another a quarter-full of rum. "Take your pick, bokkie."
After glancing between the bottles, Sharra gratefully took the vodka since there was more of it. Her eyes then fell automatically on the gash on Kruger's bare stomach, noticing that it had been patched amateurishly and needed some additional touch-ups.
"That looks like shit," Sharra muttered to Kruger, pointing to the bandage that hung loosely from his body. "You want me to fix it for you?"
Kruger glanced down. "What the fok's the problem?"
"The patchwork is shoddy and I'm betting the stitches aren't even properly sewn together. But if it doesn't bother you..." She uncapped the vodka to take a long, heavy swallow.
She jerked, startled, when Kruger hauled her up to her feet by the elbow to drag her bodily into the house. He didn't release her as they moved back to the bedroom they shared.
"There's a first aid kit under the sink," Kruger informed her as he flopped back onto the bed. He pulled the bottle of rum he still held up to his lips and swallowed as he watched her bend down to retrieve the first aid kit. Now there was a sight he would never tire of.
Sharra pulled out the box with the classic red cross emblem emblazoned over the lid and moved to the bed, setting it down and opening it to rifle through its contents. She extracted a small needle, some thread, and a fresh bandage before instructing Kruger to scoot back against the wall.
"I've always loved women who tell me what to do," Kruger commented with a grin as he obediently slid back until his head thunked against the white plaster behind him.
'Yeah, you've made that abundantly clear,' Sharra thought to herself as she recalled the way he'd obeyed Delacourt's orders without complaint.
As Sharra set to work correcting Drake's hastily done stitchwork, Kruger cleared his throat gruffly. "Not that I ain't grateful, bokkie, but why did you choose to save Drakey's life? You know - him being one of your captors and all."
Sharra shrugged as she jammed the needle into his skin; he barely flinched. "I guess I just figured you three were the lesser of two evils."
"How so?"
"I assumed that the men who'd ambushed you guys might be working for the same man that the man who broke into the house worked for and I don't really relish meeting him or getting killed by his underlings. You were ordered not to hurt me - for the time being anyway - so you're the lesser of two evils."
"Sound thinking."
Sharra cut off the last of the threading, taped up the bandage over the wound, and then quickly yanked her hands away from the hot flesh covering well-formed muscles. Her hands trembled - like they'd been burned just from grazing his skin - as she made a grab for the vodka bottle and took a lengthy gulp.
They sat there silently for several minutes as they each drank from their respective bottles of alcohol. It didn't take Kruger long to finish his and once he had, he set the empty bottle down and reached for Sharra. She squeaked in surprise as she was pulled up against his deliciously bare chest. She fought him briefly, but then shrugged and relaxed back against him as the alcohol finally kicked in.
Grinning, Kruger leaned in to sniff at her hair - how women could always smell so wonderfully fruity had always fascinated him. His hands glided gently up and down her arms, stopping on a spot where he could feel the sides of her breasts against his hands.
The alcohol must really be dulling her senses, Sharra mused, practically melting into Kruger's arms as he held her. That could be the only explanation for the way her skin tingled and ignited where he touched and the pulsing throb settling between her thighs. She was drunk and she'd never had a man's hands on her before. She was just overly sensitive was all.
"You're a very bright and courageous young woman, bokkie," Kruger whispered huskily into her ear. The rasp of that voice directly in her ear sent flames of desire licking up her spine. "I like that. A lot." He emphatically pushed his erection into the small of her back and chuckled. "As you can fokken tell."
"You're not a'sposed to rape me," she blurted out, words slurring, heart pounding erratically, voice scratchy.
The statement caught Kruger off-guard, but then he laughed loudly. "I'm not going to rape you, baby. I'd much prefer you willing." He sensually dragged the rough underside of his tongue up the smooth column of her throat and up to her ear.
Sharra trembled with new sensation - it was definitely the alcohol making her feel this way! She swore to herself then and there that there could be no other explanation. Certainly she was not...attracted to this heathen. The whole time she'd been here, she'd never had this reaction to him before. She also hadn't had a drink here before. Therefore, the alcohol was doing this to her.
"I want to touch you, baby," Kruger rasped into her ear even as his left hand glided down the soft skin of her upper chest area. "So badly." His hand slipped into her shirt to firmly grasp and knead her right breast.
Sharra giggled breathlessly - again, another side effect of the vodka: the giggliness. "I think you already are."
His own laugh vibrated against her back. He said nothing as he slipped his hand beneath the cup of her bra, fingers ever-so-gently squeezing the round flesh before plucking her nipple to hardness. She moaned and arched up against his hand.
"You like that, baby?" Kruger asked. When she nodded, he tightened his grip to the point of pain. She hissed in through her teeth, hands falling to his thighs, nails digging in deeply through his pants.
Kruger abruptly yanked his hand out of her shirt, causing her to whimper in protest and thrust her chest forward. He smirked at this involuntary response as he trailed his hand down her stomach to undo the button of her shorts. His breath caught in his throat when she wiggled those curvy hips of hers and he nearly ripped the zipper off when he yanked it down.
He wasted no time shoving his hand down her shorts and straight into her panties, groaning the instant he touched her because his fingers were saturated almost immediately.
"Fuck, baby," he breathed into her ear. "And all this time I thought you didn't like me."
"I don't," Sharra replied even as her body jerked reflexively when he scraped his nail over her swollen clit.
"So your mouth says; but your pussy tells me otherwise, bokkie."
She shuddered as that dirty word left his lips, more liquid spilling out of said pussy to soak Kruger's hand. Her eyes drifted shut as her ass unintentionally rubbed up and down on Kruger's crotch. He growled at the very welcome pressure this put on his aching cock and trailed the tips of two fingers down her sopping slit.
"Fuck, baby, you're so ready for me." Kruger nipped at her earlobe and sped up the furious rubbing of his fingers over her clit and through her drenched folds. She arched up and writhed as the pleasure she was still claiming was all related to the alcohol built higher and higher. When his middle finger dipped into her clenched opening, that was it for her.
Kruger whispered into her ear the filthy things he wanted to do to her, drawing out the ecstasy of her orgasm with those words and the accent in which he said them.
His finger was still stroking inside her as she started to fall back from the high her climax had brought her to. She was so blissed out she barely acknowledged the stiffening of Kruger's body behind her as she slumped back against him.
"You're a fucking virgin?!" Kruger jerked back from her like she'd scorched him.
"Yeah." Her own body tensed. "What of it?"
Kruger ignored her as he shoved her face-first into the mattress and shot to his feet. He was cursing heavily in Afrikaans as he stormed out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom that Drake and Crowe shared, the slamming of the door echoing throughout the whole house.
For a brief moment Sharra felt hurt at his abrupt departure. But then she shrugged and chugged more vodka, instantly blocking out her own mind of everything that had happened that day.
