Finally Free (Levi): A Black Ops Romance (The 707 Freedom Series Book 3) Read online

  FINALLY FREE

  A Black Ops Romance

  Book 3

  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

  Finally Free – A Black Ops Romance

  First edition – January 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)

  Freedom – A Black Ops Romance - coming March 2018 (Clark)

  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 is currently aboard in support of Operation Inherent Resolve. Welcome home sailors! A job well done! BRAVO ZULU!

  To the men in the 3rd ID Rock of Marne – Raider Brigade - Fort Stewart, Georgia: As the 1st Armored Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division complete 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, Chriss Prokic, and Faith Gibson. 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 word 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.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Prologue

  Fall 2004

  “Holy hell, you see the arm on that boy?” my friend Bee asked.

  “Who cares about his arm? That boy is fine,” my other friend Lynn said.

  “Will both y’all be quiet? Some of us are trying to watch the game,” I snapped.

  There was a minute thirty left on the clock, and Levi McCoy had just thrown a five-yard pass. We were three yards away from winning this game. Virginia might not be as well-known as Texas when it came to football; however, we took our Friday nights during football season real serious around here. The crowd was on their feet and cheering; there was nothin’ better than being in the stands watching a game under the lights. It was electrifying. Some Fridays I pulled out my new Motorola baby pink flip phone to record the crowd. I liked to listen to it when I was writing my article for the student paper. The normal spunk of the cheerleaders even seemed to be dialed up for tonight’s game. I held my breath when the ball was snapped and Levi caught it, quickly looking for an open receiver. He faked right then took off left, dashing into the end zone when he saw a hole in the defensive line.

  “That McCoy is somethin’ else. You hear what Kasey said about him?” I guess Lynn hadn’t answered fast enough because Bee went on. “They went out last Friday after the game, and he went down on her. How many juniors you know do that? All the boys I know want you to go down on them. Not the other way around.”

  I rolled my eyes at my two idiot friends. As smart as they were, they’d listen to any gossip that came around the bend. And our high school had plenty of it. Just last week I was seen making out with some freshman boy; that was the rumor anyway. It mustn’t’ve been any good, because sure as shit, I couldn’t even remember it.

  “Blake, you comin’ with us to the Tastee-Freez?” Lynn asked.

  “Yeah. But I’ll hike it home from there. I don’t want to tag along to another house party in bum fuck Egypt only to have the troopers bust it ten minutes later.”

 
; “Whatever,” Lynn mumbled.

  We made our way out of the stadium to the student parking lot and piled into Lynn’s pickup truck. The Tastee-Freez was already filling up by the time we got there, after stopping at the only convenience store that still accepted fake IDs. Lynn parked her truck next to some of the seniors and jumped out to go talk to them. I dumped my beer into a solo cup and followed Bee to the back of the truck. No sooner was the tailgate down and our asses planted on it, some baseball player that Bee had been tryin’ to hook up with jumped up and pushed his way in between Bee and me.

  “What the hell?” I muttered.

  “Blake, Bee. How are you fine ladies this evenin’?” the guy crooned out.

  “Hey, Charlie,” Bee gushed. Yes, she gushed, even though it was more in her body language than her tone of voice. She leaned in real close and pushed her impressive boobs into his arm.

  I stopped listening to their conversation when a huge black F150 with a modified exhaust that made it so loud it was impossible to ignore pulled into the parking lot. I continued to stare long after the truck’s ignition was turned off and the noise had been silenced. I knew who’d be stepping out of the truck; the mystery was which cheerleader would be getting out with him.

  Levi McCoy jumped out of the driver’s side, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of jeans, black boots, and his normal button up flannel shirt. I would never admit this to anyone, but I’d had a crush on Levi since the first day of our freshman year when we had English class together. Over the years he had gotten bigger, better looking, and better on the football field. Now he looked like a full-grown man and had an ego to match. Even though most of the time he was an arrogant ass, I still couldn’t stop crushing on him.

  I watched as Levi made his rounds; all the popular kids congratulating him on tonight’s win. Fist bumps and guy hugs complete with the back pounding were exchanged. A few girls ran up and kissed his cheek, vying for his attention. It really was interesting how the high school pecking order worked. The jocks were at the top of the pyramid, followed by the rich kids. Those two groups interchanged. It was socially acceptable for a middle-class jock to associate with the wealthy kids that went to our school. But if you were a middle-class no one, such as myself, you’d never be accepted into the popular clique. We didn’t dress the same, drive nice cars, and we certainly didn’t have the same weekly allowances. Hell, my parents couldn’t afford to give me an allowance. I had an afterschool job at the movie theatre.

  Bored with people watching and finishing the one beer I could sneak and still go home without my parents noticing, I was about to tell Bee I was leaving when Levi walked up and stopped in front of us.

  “Blake, right?” he asked.

  I felt my cheeks heat hearing him say my name. I hadn’t heard him call me by my name since the first day in English class and that was only because he needed to borrow a pen from me.

  “That’s me,” I stupidly said.

  ‘That’s me’; those were my first words I spoke to the boy in almost three full years, not something witty or flirty like one of the cheerleaders would say.

  “Thought so. I wanted to tell you I really enjoyed your article in last week’s student paper.”

  I guess he would’ve liked it. I wrote a two-page spread highlighting his football career at Dominion High School. Scouts were coming around now that he was a junior, trying to get him to early commit to one of their colleges. Rumor had it he was being recruited by five Division I schools, four of those five offering him a full ride if he’d commit. His superior arm gave him a huge advantage over all the other quarterbacks trying to garner the attention of the top schools.

  “Glad you liked it. With all your wins it was easy to write. I hope I didn’t leave anything out,” I responded.

  “Oh. The football write-up? That was cool, too. I think you made me sound better than I really am though.” Say what? Was Levi McCoy humble? “It’s a team effort. I know I get most of the credit, and it isn’t fair. Did you know that James Pats has the most receiving yards in the state, and he is on course to beat the Wide Receiver Hall of Fame record?” Levi stopped, and I didn’t know what to say. Was he upset I hadn’t featured the rest of the team? My assignment was to highlight Levi. “Anyway, I was talking about the student mentoring and tutoring program you’re starting. I’d like to volunteer. I can tutor math and science. I’m in AP Bio this semester and AP Calc.”

  And that was how my relationship with my longtime crush began; me sitting on Lynn’s tailgate, an empty solo cup in my hand and a dumbfounded look on my face. He did help me set up the after-school tutoring, and he was an active volunteer. The more time we spent together, the closer we became and the more I got to know the real Levi McCoy, not the star quarterback everyone wanted a piece of. He told me he didn’t want a football scholarship; he wanted to join the Army. His dream was to serve his country, not play football. I told him about wanting to be a journalist traveling the world, writing what I saw in faraway places.

  The following two years were the best of my life. Even after his mom married Alister Bench, a media mogul, and his family became rich, my relationship with him didn't change. It remained strong despite Levi's wealth. Despite him changing schools. Despite leaving me all by myself. In fact, it allowed me to focus on writing for the student paper, where I became editor.

  Life was great.

  I was madly in love with the boy of my dreams. A month before graduation, Levi had driven us out to our special hiding spot. It was a secluded wooded area miles outside of town. We went there a lot when we wanted to be alone. It was the very spot I’d given him my virginity the year before. We parked and he swore me to secrecy, telling me he had enlisted in the Army. He had turned eighteen a few weeks before and no longer needed his mother’s consent. I was proud that he was following his dreams but scared. After he’d explained everything, he laid me down on a blanket in the grass and made love to me. He told me I had nothing to worry about, that he loved me. After basic training, I would move to where he was stationed and go to college there. We had a plan, a bright and happy feature ahead of us.

  Everything was perfect until Alister and Levi’s mom found out he was leaving for the Army and not going to college to play football. My first mistake was trusting Alister Bench when he called and asked me to come by the house under the pretense he had a letter of recommendation for me to help me get into a summer writing clinic. I should’ve known something was wrong; the man hated me. He blamed me and my ‘low-rent’ family for putting ‘classless ideas of military service’ in Levi’s head. I should’ve smelled the set-up long before I did. Alister quickly ushered me into his study when I arrived at the house. First, he offered me an internship at one of his newspapers if I would break up with Levi and tell him to scrap his military plans. When that didn’t work, he offered me money, lots of it. He offered to pay for my college, pay off my parents’ house, and buy me a car. The gifts he was willing to give were endless. The man was desperate for me to leave Levi. Through it all, my mind and heart never wavered. I allowed him to continue to bribe me. At eighteen-years-old I thought I could play with the big wig and win. Boy was I wrong. Just when I thought I had everything I needed to bring Alister Bench down the front door slammed shut.

  That door ended up being a lot more than a rectangular piece of wood. It was my future, and it was lost to me. All the plans we had made, the love we had shared, all the hope I had of one day marrying Levi, crashed shut that afternoon. Every phone call, text message, every letter I wrote Levi while he was in basic training went unanswered. A few months after he should’ve graduated basic, his phone was disconnected.

  He was gone.

  My freshman year of college I made a promise to myself. One day, somehow, someway, I would destroy Alister Bench.

  Chapter One

  Levi

  “We have a situation,” the commander announced when he entered the hangar.

  I turned in my chair to find Clark already at the large c
onference room style table and the commander moving toward him with a stack of folders in his arms.

  “What’d we miss?” Jasper asked, as he and Lenox walked in.

  “Nothing yet,” Clark answered, and hit the remote to turn the fifty-two-inch monitor on the wall along with several smaller screens.

  “Levi, pull up SAT one niner Zulu on the big screen,” the commander ordered.

  I turned back to my computer, and with a few clicks, I had live drone footage of Yemen’s capital city up on the screen.

  “Earlier today an American investigative reporter was captured in a small village fifty kilometers east of Sana’a,” the commander explained. “Latest intel shows the caravan headed to the city.”

  “Anyone claiming responsibility?” I asked.

  “Yes, a group that calls themselves the Liberty Revolution, a radical Christian group,” the commander answered, using his tablet to pull up a photograph on one of the smaller screens. “Ahmed Al-Harazi is the leader. He began his crusade eighteen months ago, trying to spread Christianity through the outer villages.”

  “How does he go from spreading Christianity to kidnapping a journalist?” Clark asked.

  “Six months ago, a jihadist group bombed one of his churches and the surrounding village. Ninety-three people were killed. After the attack, his message changed. He went from spreading the word of God to an avenging extremist, using the Bible as his weapon and putting his own spin on an eye for an eye.”

  “He forgot the ‘turn the other cheek’ part,” Jasper muttered. “Why haven’t we heard of them?”

  “They’re only five-hundred strong tops. Most of his followers deflected after the church bombing, fearing that if they were found out to be Christians, they’d die as well.” The commander changed the image on the screen to a hooded figure, small in stature with their hands tied in front of their body.

  I looked closer at the image. “Is that a woman?” I asked.