The Billionaire's Fake Girlfriend - Part 1 (The Billionaire Saga)

by Sierra Rose

  Even I have my limits.

  I turned my head to see if all three of us had made it to shore. It was no small relief to see Carl and his dog Colt pulling themselves up on the beach due east of me.

  Dammit, where was Sam? I scanned further down the beach but could see little through the velvety darkness. Even with night goggles, my vision was quite impaired. The shores could be treacherous, with nowhere to hide on the barren desert beach that hugged the receding mountains of Yemen. We were all sitting ducks and we knew it, and what was worse so would the pirates if they caught a glimpse of us.

  The only salvation for Carl, Sam, Colt, and I was to hope that this band of marauders were too drunk or too high to realize we had arrived. Even through the storm and swooshing waves we could hear the men hooting and hollering as they celebrated around their campfire. I was used to these murderous celebrations of lost lives and stolen treasure.

  We’ll make sure they suffer for what they’ve done—for their stupidity and hatred.

  After dozens of these types of missions, I had grown uncomfortably similar to the enemy, filled with the same hopelessness.

  I’m getting paid well, though, for this sorry ass life. That’s what I’d tell myself when guilt rose up like bile in my throat and threatened to allow my emotions to surface.

  This was to be my last mission. At thirty-three years old, I was too old to continue these raids and too young to sit behind a desk. The Navy had sucked me dry, both emotionally and physically. All I wanted was a small house in any town in the USA to raise my dogs and live in relative peace, if there was such a thing. The more random shots I heard from the rebel’s camp, the more I questioned my ability to ever live peacefully again.

  I know too much. I’ve seen too many things. There’s no going back to those innocent days when I dreamed of being a hero. In place of a hero, I had become a mercenary for my own country. I was a paid gunner, addicted to action and suspense.

  Who was worse, those celebrating their own depravity or me in all my tainted denial?

  I shook myself back to reality and tuned my ears back to the commotion coming from the camp. They were still celebrating; confident their booty would bring high dollars on the black market. If they were like the others we had come across, they had probably spent three-quarters of their loot on drugs. Life to them was one raid after another, with hopes of capturing the most valued cargo of all—women. They appeared to be over the top with their success at capturing two female hostages, and it didn’t hurt that the hostages were young and beautiful. They would bring a healthy sum when sold to their favorite slave trader, not to mention how delectable it would be to sample the goods before the sale.

  It probably wasn’t the kindest thing to save the women. Like almost all the others, they would be traumatized and used. Life as they knew it was over. We’d have to tell them that their husbands had been tortured and their sons killed or traded as well. Many of the women who had suffered similar fates were known to commit suicide or depend on other devices to dull their memories of life before being captured. It was a life they would never again experience, and their promised fairytale existence had all been a cruel joke.

  Suddenly, I alerted to danger that pulled me out of my morbid thoughts. I bird-called for Sam, and to my relief he responded. I could barely make out the shadowy figures of Carl and Colt as they took cover behind a sandy dune to await further instruction. I sighed my relief, but it was a moment too soon. The guard fired his AK-47, skipping bullets across the tops of the dunes and into Carl’s head. Colt tried to take the shot, but for the first time ever he was one second late. That second had cost Carl dearly.

  Sweat dripped down the side of my face as my goggles fogged over. I could barely distinguish between the guard and the guard dog, but I threw my knife anyway in hopes it would reach its target. Success! My dagger buried itself in the guard’s chest, and Colt buried his teeth in the rebel’s leg, pulling him away from his slain master. I rushed to Carl’s side, already knowing he was dead, but refusing to accept the outcome.

  I wanted to scream my rage, to cry out a killing yelp and take the scalp of the rebel. I think the natives had it right—like stealing the very soul of your enemy.

  “Okay Edge, suck it up. Come on Colt, time to do some damage.” This time, I spoke my thoughts out loud. The words offered courage and strength to every fiber of my being, but for some reason everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

  There was no time to linger, so I forced one foot in front of the other, but my body wouldn’t respond. I kept trying to reason through the chaos, but nothing made sense. I experienced the same old familiar feelings that I knew far too well, but I couldn’t quite fathom why I actually knew what would happen next.

  I called Colt, and together we slowly zigzagged to Sam, quickly devising an alternate plan. As the rest of the pirates came looking with their torches, Colt circled around to distract them. It worked! Sam and I slunk around several low bushes in the opposite direction and carefully made our way to their camp. There were a few men hanging around their expressions giving me clear acknowledgment that they had been alerted by all the fireworks. The two battered women were tethered to a stake, hunkered down to cover their exposed nakedness.

  Strangely enough, there was no need to further assess the situation; I sensed what would happen next. I watched with distant interest as Sam hand-signaled that he was going in. I disagreed. He insisted, and this time didn’t wait for my response. Sam silently took out the single man beside them and huddled behind the women to cut their ties.

  Almost home, Sam—we’re almost home! Hang on girls, just a few more minutes and it’ll be a day at the beach.

  Lies—all lies! My neck hairs stood up before I even saw the man fire. He shot Sam in the leg, and Sam and I both returned the favor. I prayed that would be the last one, and we could get the hell out of there. The women began unbinding themselves, giving me time to run for Sam. I dragged him to the side of the hut, the air suddenly so hard to breathe. Just as I turned, I knew what my instincts had been telling me all along. This was going to be a failed mission. First Carl, then Sam, now me! Colt showed up in time to get a piece of the action, but not before the pirate released a round that blew both female hostages apart.

  In a split second, all was lost.

  Sam, we’ve got to get out of here, now! As I looked up and began shaking him awake, there sat Sam with his throat cut ear to ear. Colt flew through the air, slamming the attacker to the ground. This time, it was my turn to defend Colt. I stabbed the attacker right through the ear, watching his life’s blood ooze from his eyes. His face wore a permanent expression of death acknowledged.

  It was too late for us to run, so Colt and me hid beneath some blankets in the band’s hut. A deafening silence lifted between us as we huddled together in hopes that we could escape our fate. I was never so thankful for the howling winds and miserable rain that rose above our labored breathing.

  No sooner had the band of murderers returned then they were gone again in pursuit of their intruders. They didn’t have enough good sense between them to consider the chances of us still being in their camp. They were in a rage, hungry for the kill, eager to avenge their friends. Again, that eerie silence accompanied by an inner knowingness.

  It was as if I was the audience of an action film being directed by myself. For some odd reason, an incredible calm came over me. Colt seemed to feel it too. We weren’t really running, this was only a temporary retreat. We snuck through the slight undergrowth like thieves in the night, returning to the beach for our exit rendezvous. The men were waiting for Colt and I, but this time we welcomed the company. There’s nothing like another Navy Seal to empower and encourage when there seems to be no way out.

  The first I knew of my injuries was when I was snatched from the grasp of a clawing wave to be pulled into the boat. My cheek was torn open to expose the bone, but the wound wasn’t near as deep as the one I felt at losing Carl. I reached over to give Colt
a hug, thankful that he was safe as well.

  Carl would have appreciated the fact that Colt had made it out, that he did his job with such determination and precision.

  “Yep, Carl would have been glad about that.”

  “Pardon, sir? What was that you said?”

  “Nothing. Didn’t know I was talking out loud.” I was glad for the rain that rolled down my cheeks to cover my emotions. I didn’t want anyone to see me as anything less than hard and efficient. A wall that couldn’t be torn down, a fortress that would never fail.

  Nobody would know I had left a piece of myself on that beach tonight.

  Nobody. Nobody.

  Chapter 1

  “Nobody. Nobody.” I heard myself repeating the words over and over, absently stroking Colt’s neck as he sat by my bedside. He was my faithful companion, always there for me when the nightmares threatened to take over my reality. At least once or twice a month I had the same dream, leaving my body clammy and my head aching for a release from the pain of deep loss.

  Carl had trusted me, and I had let him down. Now Colt trusted me; would I let him down as well?

  “Hey, buddy. Yeah—you’re a great dog. I know. I know. You’ll protect me; yes you will. I’ve got your back too, you crazy hound.”

  Colt continued to sit by my bedside and whine his discomfort at my obvious physical and emotional burden. I reached up to touch the scar on my left cheek. It was a visible memory of my failure, and I wore it with self-loathing. It was not only the end of my career with the Navy Seals, but it was the end of the man I thought I was, the man I could have been. The only one who loved me, no matter what, was Colt, and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why. It was simply another early morning with nothing to alleviate my haunted memories.

  “Okay Colt, how about you and me having us a workout and going for a walk?” It was only 5:00 a. m., and I’d been awake for hours.

  It was always the same—memory of the mission, failed attempt to change the outcome, wake up in the middle of the night with Colt trying to comfort me, then get up and get busy to avoid any more inner turmoil. This had been a particularly vivid reliving of the nightmare. It was necessary to do something physical to work off the pain, to rid myself of the ongoing night terrors I called life.

  I discovered the only way to minimize the thoughts that preyed on my emotions was to maximize the exercise that kept my body rock hard and Navy Seal ready. Even though I got out of the Navy Seals after the mission, I couldn’t get the Navy Seals out of me. I was still edgy, still walking the line between sanity and sainthood, still living life as if there would be no tomorrow—partially in hopes of forgetting about yesterday. Colt knew the routine, and he followed me to gym-hell to work out my demons.

  I spent hours in my garage, torturing my body until my biceps bulged in protest and my thighs burned to signal sweet surrender. Because last night’s activities were so relentless, this morning’s activities would be more of the same. It was one of those days that would require a special form of exorcism. I couldn’t get relief until my body was wet, and my mind was spent until I ached for mental release. That’s when Colt brushed against my leg, asking for a little breakfast and a soothing walk in the wooded area surrounding the community.

  This morning, not even Colt could distract me from my revelry. I pumped with more gusto than usual, searching for blessed relief. My senses hadn’t dulled, but my body was too busy trying to persuade my mind to give up the war I waged.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a woman motioning her moving van to park just so, the girl none of my concern nor her desire to move into my quaint little neighborhood. I glanced up fully as the van pulled across my drive, its air brakes hissed their wake-up call to me and the entire neighborhood.

  I had lived in Flagstaff, Arizona for a year, and I had yet to say more to a neighbor than a weak two-word greeting as Colt and I headed for our walks or went to work at my K-9 Boot Camp. Even there I was aloof and distant with staff and customers, preferring to be alone with my thoughts and the attending dogs I trained. I shook my head in an attempt to clear my wandering mind and focus on the weights, the lifts, the pulleys and bench that supported my hardened body. I let go of my inner turmoil, only to be replaced by the moving van’s outer aggravation. The men were fighting and cursing over a dresser that had hit the ground.

  “You put a ding in it!” a man shouted.

  “Not my fault. You let go!” The second guy lifted his hands in the air, waving them about with gusto.

  “What the hell?” I marched to the end of my drive, hands on my hips, ready for a pissing contest with the little raven-haired tease posed perfectly at the edge of my property line.

  It was still a bit chilly in the early morning, and I could see her pertness through the clingy white material that stretched across her full breasts. I hated the fact that I was having difficulties keeping my arousal in check all of a sudden. I was trained better than this.

  I decided tact wasn’t going to be my strong suit as I attacked her verbally. “I can understand getting a head start. But this damn early?”

  She turned toward me, twisting her torso. Her shirt pulled tighter and exposed the soft flesh beneath, the creamy-white top of her breasts on display for me and anyone else in a ten-foot radius.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize they’d be here this early.” She shrugged as her cheeks colored pink. She was incredibly pretty. I could give her that, but pretty wasn’t going to cover the disruption to my workout.

  I wiped the sweat off my forehead. “Just try to take it down. This is a quiet neighborhood.”

  She smiled. “Are you with the neighborhood watch? Pounce on anything that makes noise before dawn?”

  “Maybe I don’t like noisy neighbors.”

  “Looks like you were up bright and early anyway. Pumping iron? Just blast your music. It’ll drown out everything. Trust me. That’s what I do.”

  “Just blast your music? Right! How about next time give them a time and tell them to stick to it?” I growled.

  I turned to go inside, but Colt had a plan all his own. He trotted over to the woman like she was his new best friend, and that made me recall him with more harshness than usual.

  “Colt, come! Now, I said!” Rarely did I have to call him twice when I used my warning voice, but this time Colt chose to ignore my request. I stepped toward him with a menacing look, and this time he thought twice about being disobedient. He stopped for a moment and looked back. “Don’t even think about it, Colt.”

  “Your dog is beautiful. I see he takes after his owner. What’s your name, boy? Colt? Is that your name?” she asked, bending over to stroke his back and cup his awaiting cheeks in her hands.

  I felt desire rising up through me, as my eyes traveled the length of her. Not only were her breasts protesting the confines of her shirt, but now she was showing off her long, slender legs.

  A beautiful golden goddess; not a tan line anywhere. Yep, if I were a bettin’ man, I’d bet she’ll be teasing the neighbors as she tans naked around her pool.”

  I turned and walked back into the garage, calling for Colt once more as I pressed my hand to the front of my workout pants. What the hell was the matter with me? How long had it been since I had taken a good looking woman to my bed? Obviously too long by the movement of my cock, jerking as if trying to get the girls attention. I glanced back at the sound of Colt’s low growl.

  “What now?” I muttered and walked back into the driveway as the girl moved a few steps back.

  Colt had the two movers trapped inside the truck, his growl aggressive and a warning at best. I hadn’t witnessed Colt in protect mode for quite some time, and I was surprised to see him ready to spring into action over nothing. Or perhaps it wasn’t nothing. Dogs had a sense about people, and Colt was specially tuned to the smell of danger.

  This time I commanded Colt in German, suspecting something with these guys was not quite kosher.

  “Nein! Geh rein,” I
spoke in a softer voice, which carried much more weight with Colt. He followed my instruction and, with just a slightly raised lip to the movers, he slowly and stealthily moved until he reached the garage. I knew he wanted to keep an eye on the men, so I allowed him to patrol to the garage door, but no further.

  “Wow! I’m impressed. I shouldn’t be, though. That voice almost made me want to slink back into my garage. What language was that, anyway?” She ran her fingers through her dark hair and took a tentative step toward me.

  “That was the language that told him to mind his own business,” I said, as I turned back to my garage. I was more frustrated with myself than with that slip of a girl next door. I was used to beautiful women. What I wasn’t used to was the way I had reacted to the obvious actions of this pretty piece.

  “I’ve been too long without a woman, Colt. Sorry buddy. You took the brunt of it, huh?” I bent toward Colt to escort him into the house and found his attention still drawn to the girl. “I know how you feel. Me too. Come, Colt. Let’s get ready for work, boy.”

  The rest of the day was much like any other day, with staff working like crazy registering all the new clients and their dogs. The first day of training was always tougher on the owners than the animals. Some wanted to coddle their dogs, while others expected stardom and refused to allow their canines to work at a pace comfortable for them. It was great to have Colt there to model the proper behavior, and to take the attention off me when my patience shrunk to nonexistent.

  I had a habit of wearing my displeasure all over my face, and that expression was not a warm and fuzzy one for the generously paying clients. I could trust Colt to sense when he needed to come to my rescue and take over when I was forced to handle more crap than I could reasonably tolerate. Never crap from the dogs. They were my saving grace and seemed to be on alert with my need for them to run interference between me and their unsuspecting, overbearing owners.