Badass - The Complete Series: A Billionaire Military Romance

by Leslie Johnson

  Janine grins, but it has a hint of ugliness behind it. “Well, we all can’t be born with a billion bucks in the bank.”

  Irritation flows through me. Irritation at her and at myself. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her, not with someone I work with. Not with anyone.

  I know better.

  As an heiress to the Duffy fortune, I’ve spent my life keeping most people at a distance. It’s easier that way. Easier to be alone than to wonder who will turn on me next. Wonder who my true friends are. Wonder who will want something from me. Who will name drop or sell me out.

  That happened earlier this year when the affair I’d started with a model ended up on the front page of the tabloids. I try to keep my affairs private, more for the sake of my family than any embarrassment to myself, but there I was, front page with my lips on the neck of a popular lingerie model. We were both topless, our breasts pressed together. I’d been terribly hurt to discover she had tipped off the paparazzi and staged the entire thing. And ever since my playboy brother got married and settled down, the press’ attention has been landing squarely on me. Especially since they learned I like both men and women.

  I know, I know … pitiful little me. Poor little rich girl, crying because the silver spoon won’t come out of her mouth. Pouting about her lack of privacy. Boo hoo hoo.

  That’s what Janine and most people would probably think if I voiced those thoughts out loud. Those doubts. Those insecurities. The responsibility.

  I get it. Even when I think the least bit negatively about my life, guilt immediately follows. I’m extremely wealthy. I’m attractive enough to have been offered modeling contracts I didn’t accept. I get invitations to all the exciting events. I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.

  I’m happy.

  Very happy.

  Dammit.

  “When we get to Santa Elena, I want to get off this time,” I tell Janine, changing the subject and forcing a bright smile on my face. “I need a break and I’d like to explore the Avri, see the best location for our night time vista shots.”

  “Is it safe?” she asks and I look down at the ‘Go – No Go’ map in my hand. There are ten sections of the city with big red X’s marked over the top. Cities too dangerous to go into without heavily armed escorts and even then, you better make sure your life insurance and will is updated.

  “According to the handy map, it’s very touristy and listed as safe. But if you’re worried, we can wait until the security team arrives tomorrow.”

  She shakes her head, then lifts her hands into the air and stretches. “A break actually sounds wonderful.” Then she smiles at me. The comforting, warm smile that reminds me of why I was attracted to her in the first place.

  It was still stupid to mix business with pleasure and I’ll certainly never do it again. I don’t date people for long. I don’t want to get attached. And I absolutely don’t want to be tied down to anyone who resents my travel schedule or wants more demands of my time.

  When Janine joined the team for the Haiti trip, we’d been sitting by the fire drinking way, way, way too much Crémasse. I was surprised when she leaned over and kissed me. Very surprised when her hand crept up to my breast. I wish I could say I’d been smart enough to tell her no. I wasn’t. I let her take my hand and lead me to her tent. I let her undress me. Let her make love to me. Then, I’d made love to her.

  Afterwards, we talked for hours, laughed and touched, talked about things both serious and dumb. That’s what I like best about women. The after. Sure, the sex is good, but I honestly prefer sex with a man better. It’s the after. The closeness I’ve never experienced with a man.

  Despite what the tabloids say, I don’t have a new date on my arm every night. Besides Janine and the backstabbing model, I’ve only been with one other person in over a year. Tate Rodgers. My brother’s best friend. And I’ve not seen him in over six months.

  The asshole.

  Okay, asshole isn’t quite fair. He’s simply a man who knows what he wants and doesn’t waste time in getting it. He’s driven. He has a high level of integrity, so much so he only sees the world in black and white. He’s honest to a fault, and expects total honesty in return. Trust me … never ask him if your ass looks big in something because he will absolutely tell you if it does.

  Besides all that, he’s controlling. In bed and out. I admit, the in bed part is kind of fun. But not all the time, and with Tate it’s only his way all of the time. And there never is an afterwards. He practically rolls off and leaves, the door not having time to slam him on his chiseled ass as he walks out.

  But dear heavens, he has a dick the size of an eggplant.

  Whew.

  I squirm a little every time I think of how it felt to be with him. Big fingers. Gorgeously long and thick cock. No barriers. Completely open to anything. And strong. God, so very strong. And surprisingly flexible for a man of his size.

  But … no afterwards. No tenderness. No slow, long kisses that last all day.

  And that doesn’t work for me.

  I crave tenderness. I crave being cared for. I crave the feeling of being worshipped and being able to worship right back.

  So we decided to remain friends, with the option for occasional hook ups if our schedules put us within a few hours of each other. And that probably won’t happen until Christmas, which is about seven months from now.

  “Almost there.”

  Janine’s soft words pull me from my daydream and I look up to see the station is about a hundred yards ahead. I stow away my camera and help Janine pack up hers. Then we jump off the gondola that never stops.

  My first priority is finding the bathroom and I’m thrilled to find they are surprisingly clean. I’ve mastered the squat after being in third world facilities so many times, but it’s nice to know I could have sat if number two had been calling for freedom.

  Back outside, I locate a bottle of water in my pack and hand one over to Janine. I start to remove my camera again to take a down slope shot of the metro cable system when a little voice says, “Hello, beautiful ladies. I give tours. Ten dolla.”

  I turn to find a boy no older than ten standing to my right. He’s beautiful. Big brown eyes and long black hair swept straight back from his forehead. A big wide smile spreading across his too thin face.

  “Tours, huh?”

  He nods eagerly. “Yes. Yes. Very good tours. Very happy show you beautiful gardens.” He reaches for the backpack sitting beside me. “I carry. Very helpful. Ten dolla only.”

  I look over at Janine and she lifts an ‘up to you’ shoulder and I dig some money from my pocket. “Dollars or pesos?” I ask the little guy.

  “Pesos much happy.”

  Glancing down the length of the boy, I notice is clothes are very worn, but clean. I do a quick exchange calculation and count out thirty thousand Columbian pesos. He quickly stuffs them deep in his pocket, nodding and grinning. “Gracias. Mucho gracias. Good tour. Very good tour.”

  “What’s your name?” I ask him.

  “Juan, beautiful lady. Follow me.”

  He trots off, leaving us to tag along, pointing at this thing and that, speaking too quickly in his broken English while I pretend to understand everything he is saying.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re walking down a narrow trail. “Hey, kid, are we close?” Janine asks, her voice growing sharp in irritation.

  “Yes, yes. Very close. Good tour, I promise.”

  Janine exhales, long and deep. “Yes, you little shit. Good tour,” she mumbles under her breath and I give her a ‘cool it’ glance.

  “Entrance just there,” Juan points. “Almost there. See.”

  I’m relieved to see that he’s telling the truth and the directional signs are indeed pointing in that direction. I power up my camera, wanting some good shots of the entrance gate. Then I stop short.

  It’s closed.

  Shit!

  Juan scratches his head and looks back at us. “What day this is?”

&nbs
p; Janine grinds out, “Monday.”

  The boy’s eyes grow big. “I sorry. Sorry, sorry. No open Mondays. Fix things on that day.” His eyes flash past my shoulder and he takes three quick steps backwards.

  I feel it before I see it. A presence coming up behind us.

  “Vete, chico!”

  I whirl and terror fills me as I take in three men right behind us. Two medium sized and one as big as a house. How I didn’t at least hear him come up behind me, I’ll never know. But I didn’t and now Juan …

  I turn, but the kid is gone.

  “What do you want?” Janine asks in a shrill voice.

  The middle guy simply smiles and flicks his eyes down her body. Then, his eyes meet mine. “I want everything.”

  We hope you enjoyed the sneak peak of Badass: Jungle Fever, due out January 2016 Available Now!

  To be notified of new books, please sign up for our mailing list at: http://lesliejohnsonauthor.com/sign-up-for-updates/

  Also By Leslie Johnson

  Badass: Jungle Fever Box Set

  Stoking the Embers Box Set

  Ashes Box Set

  Firemen Romance Series Box Set

  Love, Lies, Deceit

  The Ambassadors Wife Box Set

  Standalone Novellas

  Everything to Live For

  With Elle Dawson

  Rebecca’s Gift Box Set

  Acknowledgements

  Much appreciation to the soldiers and veterans who endured us while we asked them a million questions. Kevin. Tom. Zack. Robert. We so very much appreciate you. Thank you—and all our soldiers—for fighting for our country and giving us the right to publish this book.

  While we interviewed these men to make the process of being in the army as realistic as possible, we did take creative license to make this story match our vision in a couple of places. That’s the fun part of being an author. We just wish we could type ‘no more war’ and magically make it come true.

  About the Authors

  Leslie Johnson

  Leslie is a California native but recently moved to Arizona after a stint in Arkansas. She enjoys travel and being with her grandchildren.

  She is an avid reader of many genres, but prefers romances with travel or thriller themes. She loves writing about strong women and strong men because the world needs both!

  Please visit me at:

  http://lesliejohnsonauthor.com/

  https://www.facebook.com/lesliejohnsonauthor

  Elle Dawson

  Sharing ones thoughts on paper is an intimate experience, and should not be taken lightly. Some days I fear this process, as my mind can be a scary place to dwell. Other days I realize I’m not alone in this journey, and although the very action of expelling ones deepest thoughts onto paper is intensely personal, it is deeply healing. Funny how that works.

  I will continue to write as Elle Dawson, and be a mom, sister, daughter and friend in my real life. I’ll enjoy the beauty of Tennessee and read books that take me away or speed up my heart. When I’m not writing them.

  I’d love to stay connected...please visit me at one—or both—of these places:

  Website: http://elledawson.com

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ElleDawsonWrites

  Email me: elle@elledawson.com

  Copyright

  © 2015 Leslie Johnson & Elle Dawson

  All rights reserved.

  Published by: Atrevida Publishing

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated. All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.