Freedom: A Black Ops Romance (The 707 Freedom Series Book 4) Read online

  Freedom

  A Black Ops Romance

  Book 4

  The 707 Freedom Series

  Riley Edwards

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Riley Edwards

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design: Riley Edwards

  Written by: Riley Edwards

  Published by: Riley Edwards

  Edited by: Cindy Wolken

  Freedom – A Black Ops Romance

  First edition – March 3, 2018

  Copyright © 2018 Riley Edwards

  All rights reserved

  Sign up for the Riley’s Rebels mailing list and stay up to date on releases, sales, and giveaways.

  http://eepurl.com/cBkqKn

  Other Books by, Riley Edwards:

  Nightstalker

  The Gift

  The Awakening

  The Collective Season One

  Unbroken part one – A Collective Novel

  Unbroken part two – A Collective Novel

  The Collective – Season Finale

  The 707 Freedom Series

  Free – A Black Ops Romance (Lenox)

  Free – The Extended Epilogue

  Freeing Jasper – A Black Ops Romance (Jasper)

  Finally Free – A Black Ops Romance (Levi)

  Special Forces: Operation Alpha

  (Susan Stoker Kindle World)

  Protecting Olivia – January 23, 2018

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all the brave men and women who serve or have served in the United States Armed Forces. There are no words to properly convey the sacrifices they make and the appreciation I have for the cost of their service.

  To my husband. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side on this crazy train called life.

  To my children.

  A special thanks to the sailors aboard the USS Nimitz (CVN68). I wrote this series while thinking about her crew, especially my daughter who was deployed aboard in support of Operation Inherent Resolve when I started book one. Welcome home sailors! A job well done! BRAVO ZULU!

  To the men in the 3rd ID Rock of Marne – Raider Brigade - Fort Stewart, Georgia: The 1st Armored Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division have completed their training in preparation for their deployment in support of Operation Resolute Support may God be with you as you deploy to Korea. – Dogface soldiers, CAN DO!

  Shades45: Be safe, be brave, and stay strong. We love you and are so proud to call you son. No good-byes only, “See ya laters.”

  The world lost 31 Heroes 06 Aug 2011. SOC SEAL John W. Faas was among the crew that died that day. Even in death, John continues to inspire all those who knew him and love him. He is not forgotten - never forgotten. His sacrifice and that of his family’s reminds us that freedom is never free.

  We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.

  Whether it was the writer George Orwell, the essayist Richard Grenier, or the Washington Times columnist Rudyard Kipling who originally wrote those words matters not. The sentiment rings true. We are only afforded the luxuries we have because rough men are willing to stand at the ready. Chief Faas was one of those men.

  31 heroes – From a grateful nation.

  Acknowledgements

  A special thanks to my Alpha readers – Michelle Thomas and Chriss Prokic, Thank you so much for all your help on this book.

  Cindy Wolken – you worked tirelessly on this book. Thank you so very much!

  To the BETA readers, reviewers, and Bloggers that took time out of their lives to read, review and promote this project – THANK YOU! As with anything else in life it takes a village. I couldn’t have published this book without your help.

  Ellie Masters – Thank you. Your friendship, guidance, and steadfast support means the world to me. I wouldn’t have finished this book when I did if it wasn’t for your word sprints. You truly are one-of-a-kind.

  Kendall Barnett – My business partner and friend -You are the bomb dot com. I love you woman!

  Chris Genovese and Faith Gibson – The two of you listen to me whine and complain daily about the progress of writing and publishing. You help me when I get stuck and always take time out of your busy schedules to bounce ideas around. But it is your unwavering encouragement that I appreciate the most. It means the world to me to call the two of you my friends.

  Chapter One

  Holy sweet mother of God!

  That was my first thought.

  My second was holy fucking hell, that ass!

  Sam Hunt’s “Body Like a Back Road” was blasting on the stereo and all my intentions of busting Jasper’s balls for playing chick music fled and were replaced with the aforementioned notions.

  The sexy woman in front of me - who was currently in some bendy yoga-inspired pose - most certainly had the body that had inspired Sam Hunt to write the song.

  Sweet Jesus. Those legs.

  I wasn’t one for going slow as the song suggested, but curves like those? They were made to explore – slowly, diligently, and thoroughly. Toned, tanned legs like that were made to wrap around a man’s waist and hold tight. An ass that was more than a handful - tight yet would still ripple as you took her from behind. Or maybe it wouldn’t, and my overactive imagination and underused cock were just hoping that’s what it’d do. God knows it would be a tragedy if it didn’t.

  The song changed, and the new singer crooned on about how he’ll never settle down and how he doesn’t dance. The woman in front of me straightened; her blonde hair pulled up in a knot on the top of her head, not giving me any indication how long it was but exposing a sexy tattoo on the back of her neck. Suddenly I felt like a dick for eye fucking the girl.

  I cleared my throat, hoping to get her attention, but between the music and the amount of concentration it must’ve taken to balance on one leg the way she was, she hadn’t heard me.

  With both feet now planted firmly on the ground, she looked like she was getting ready to bend over again. I had to stop her. I was in a pair of athletic shorts that would, in no way, conceal a hard-on. And if she bent over in front of me again, I’d be able to pound nails with my cock.

  I thought about just slipping out of the room and going across the lawn and knocking on Jasper’s door. She’d never know I was here and I wouldn’t have to bother her.

  That’s what I had planned to do until Jasper yelled my name from his deck and the woman turned and fell forward when she saw me.

  “Whoa. Careful,” I said and reached out my hand to steady her, catching her hips as she stumbled.

  She turned, and I realized the first two thoughts I’d had about this woman did not do her justice. She was even more stunning from the front. Brownish-green eyes stared at me, wide and in shock. Her full lips were parted ever so slightly like she had been getting ready to say something. Beads of sweat dotted her impressive cleavage and disappeared down under her sports bra.

  “I, um, didn’t know… Sorry. You scared me,” she stammered and pulled her hand out of mine.

  Had I really been holding on to the poor girl’s hand? What the hell was wrong with me? And why the fuck did I have the u
rge to grab her hand again? The brief contact wasn’t enough; I wanted more.

  “No need to apologize. I’m the one that’s sorry. I was looking for Jasper. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I told her. “I’m Clark, by the way. I work with Jasper.”

  “Right. He’s mentioned you. I’m Reagan. Nice to meet you.”

  Reagan.

  Liz’s little sister Reagan.

  Well, fuck me. Totally and completely off limits.

  “You, too. I’ll let you get back to your work out.”

  It was difficult, but I didn’t allow my eyes to move from her face. As desperate as I was for one more look, I didn’t do it. Instead, I turned on my heels and hightailed it out of the too-small space like a pussy and nearly ran into Jasper.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Let me see if Reagan is.”

  “Reagan?”

  What the hell? Jasper and I were going to the boxing gym, did she need a ride somewhere?

  “She’s coming with us to work out.”

  “She is?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you forget how to speak, or are you having issues understanding the English language?”

  I didn’t know what my problem was. I’d never acted like a stuttering teenager around women, not even when I was a teenager.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? The boxing gym this time of day is gonna be filled with nothing but meatheads. They’re gonna trip over their dicks when she walks in looking like that.”

  Jasper threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Like you are?”

  Fucker.

  “Seriously. What the fuck are you thinking?”

  “Good thing we’ll both be there then. She’ll have two big brother types to watch her back.”

  Big brother? Did he just say big brother? Because the last thing I was feeling toward Reagan was anything close to brotherly.

  Reagan was quiet on the short drive to the gym. She sat in the back of my Jeep, content in her thoughts, while Jasper and I talked about the new training rotation we were starting today. I liked that she didn’t need to be the center of attention but interjected when she had something thoughtful to say.

  Where the hell had that come from? What did it matter what I liked? I shouldn’t like anything about her.

  The next two hours were torture. I was in hell. Every buffed-out gym-rat in the room couldn’t keep their eyes off Reagan. Not that I could either, and more than that, I shouldn’t have cared - but I did.

  “Hey, Rea. Come jump in the ring with Clark while I get a drink,” Jasper called ringside to where Reagan was standing, watching us now that she was done with her bag work.

  I didn’t know if Jasper was punishing me, or if this was his way of keeping Reagan away from the other men in the room. Her small frame slipped through the ropes easily, and all the impure thoughts I had earlier came rushing back with a vengeance. Not that they had been far from the forefront of my mind. Only now, my cock was being strangled by the cup I was wearing. What could I say? My dick had good taste, and Reagan looked positively edible.

  “Sorry to intrude on your workout,” Reagan said, coming to a stop in front of me.

  She couldn’t have been more than five feet three. I had almost a full foot on her in height and at least doubled her weight. She was a little thing; the words fun-sized popped into mind along with all the fun things I could do with her.

  “You’re not intruding. I hope you’re not uncomfortable around all these idiots.”

  “They don’t bother me. I’m kinda used to it. Back home, at my old gym, the guys either hit on me the entire time I was trying to work out, or they were offended I would dare enter a boxing gym and made it known women weren’t wanted invading their space.”

  I didn’t know why that pissed me off, but it did.

  “What got you into boxing?” I asked.

  I’d never met a woman that was interested in any sport where there was a good amount of blood involved.

  “I don’t want to tell you; you’ll laugh,” she said, tucking her head.

  I wanted to touch her, lift her chin and make her look at me.

  “Now you have to tell me. I won’t laugh. Promise.”

  She raised her eyes to mine and twisted her lips. How fucking adorable was this girl? Adorable? What the hell was she doing to me? I didn’t use words like adorable. I don’t even think kittens or babies are adorable.

  “When I was in high school, there was this boy, and I wanted to impress him, so I started boxing.” She stopped and was trying her hardest to bite back a smile. She lost the battle and her face split into the most devastating smile I’d ever seen. “Sorry. I’m fucking with you. I couldn’t keep a straight face, so I ruined it.” She covered her mouth to hide her smile, and I wanted to demand she lower her hand and never hide from me again.

  I chuckled when she continued to laugh behind her gloved hand.

  “So, you know how to spar?” I asked.

  She nodded her head.

  “Do you want to go a round? Promise to pull my punches.”

  She stopped laughing and stood straight, steel infusing her spine as she stared me down.

  “You better not. It’ll piss me off if you do.”

  “Damn woman, I didn’t mean to offend you, but you do realize I outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds, right? I’m not being sexist here; I’m being real.”

  “If you have to take it easy on me then I have no business being in the ring with you,” she replied.

  Someone had messed with her head if that’s what she thought. Size mattered, especially in sparring. I was six feet two inches and two hundred pounds. I could hurt her in a matter of seconds if I wanted to, and not because of my training, simply because I was so much bigger than her.

  “You know there are weight classes for a reason, right?” I asked.

  “Do you think some man who finds me in a back alley is going to pull his punches or care that he outweighs me? Besides, weight classes are for sissies.”

  I didn’t know her well enough to know if she was joking or not. On the one hand, I was impressed with her fire, on the other, I wanted to straighten out her line of thinking. But again, I didn’t know her well, and it wasn’t my place. And she was right, if someone trying to harm her they wouldn’t go easy on her.

  “Then call me a sissy and let’s go a light round for points. Hands only?” I asked.

  We both had sparring gloves on, but neither of us had on shin guards. Shin-on-shin contact hurt like a bitch, and it didn’t matter how careful you were, it was inevitable.

  “You’re on,” she answered, and took an open fighting stance.

  One leg back, knees slightly bent, and an even, low center of gravity. Interesting, she’d had some martial arts training as well.

  We’d danced around each other for a few minutes before I saw an opening. A quick one-two combination, I tapped her solar plex and waited for her to drop her hands in an effort to block my punch. When she did, I landed a jab to her cheek.

  “Damn, you’re quick,” she said, shaking off my strike.

  “That’s a first,” I laughed.

  “What is?”

  “Hearing a woman tell me I’m quick.”

  “Charming.”

  Her hands came back up, and she threw a wide, arching right hook. I easily ducked her attempt but was too late to block the snap of her round kick to my face. My neck snapped left, and I tasted blood.

  Goddamn that was hot. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. You said hands only.”

  I straightened to my full height and looked down at Reagan. Her hair was a matted, sweaty mess, her face was red and blotchy from exertion, and with all that, she had to have been the sexiest woman I’d ever laid eyes on. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if this was what she looked like after sex.

  “Now you owe me dinner,” I told her.

  “What?” She laughed. “Wh
y would I owe you dinner?”

  “The first to draw blood has to buy the other person dinner.”

  “Is that a rule?” She’d stopped dancing around and was fidgeting with her glove.

  “It is now.”

  I knew I had no business flirting with Reagan. I certainly had no business going out to dinner with her. Yet, I absolutely was going to do it. Maybe after I spent some time with her, she’d do something or say something that would show her true colors. All women did. With some it took an hour, with others, it took days, or in my ex-wife’s case, it took years. But sooner or later the pretense fades.

  That’s what I needed.

  Once she showed me who she really was, I’d be able to stop this weird fascination I seemed to have.

  It was only a matter of time.

  Chapter Two

  What was happening right now?

  Was Clark flirting with me? Asking me on a date? Surely he wasn’t. The man was, H.O.T, hot. (Yes, with all capitals!) No way would he ever look twice in my direction. He was just being nice to me because I was Jasper’s friend.

  “How do you feel about pizza and beer?” he asked.

  “In general, or are we talking specific styles and brands?”

  What was wrong with me? Why did I always have to be so lame when I was nervous? And why was I nervous in the first place? That’s right, because Clark was hands down the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “In general.” He chuckled.

  “In general, I love pizza, and as long as the beer is cold and American, I’m game.”

  Clark wiped the blood from the corner of his lip, drawing my eyes down to his shorts where he’d cleaned his thumb on the fabric. His thighs were big and thick, the size of tree trunks. And I couldn’t help concentrating on the area between those huge redwoods and wondered if the rest of him was just as large.

  He cleared his throat, and I froze. The problem with that was my eyes had also become immobile, and they were glued to his crotch. He’d caught me. There were no two ways about it. And me being me, I did what I always did, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. It was normally inappropriate and embarrassing.