by Kara Liane
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Falling Up the Stairs
Chapter 2: Never Really Came Back
Chapter 3: Schmooze for the News
Chapter 4: Prickly and Dickly Rhyme
Chapter 5: Parting of the Seas
Chapter 6: Never Everly
Chapter 7: No-Go Zone
Chapter 8: Scared or Scarred?
Chapter 9: Pussyfooting Around
Chapter 10: Hopefully a Homecoming to Remember
Chapter 11: Is This Girl for Real?
Chapter 12: Ambushed
Chapter 13: The Heat Is On
Chapter 14: Shedding the Layers
Chapter 15: Rigid Digits
Chapter 16: Concoction
Chapter 17: Go Fork Yourself
Chapter 18: Tripped Up
Chapter 19: “Everneth”
Chapter 20: Full Speed Ahead
Chapter 21: Front-Page News
Chapter 22: A Game of Dog and Cat
Chapter 23: The News Never Sleeps
Chapter 24: Falling Down the Stairs
Chapter 25: Stranger Danger
Chapter 26: Go Big or Go Home Alone
Chapter 27: Maverick and Goose
Epilogue
Teaser: Nursing Myself Back (A Tryst of Fate Series Novel—Book 3)
Chapter 1: Dead End
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2018
Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
Cover design by Francessca’s PR & Designs. Cover images by DepositPhotos.com.
Edited by Mountains Wanted Indie Author Services.
Author logo designed by the author through Canva.com.
Clipart chapter images by Pixabay.com.
Also by Kara Liane
***
Playing Heart to Get—A Tryst of Fate Series Novel—Book 1
Every Heart Inch—A Tryst of Fate Series—Novella 1
Heart to Follow—A Tryst of Fate Series—Novella 2
***
Stay connected with Kara Liane and purchase her books by visiting her website: www.karaliane.com
Dedication
This book is solely dedicated to all the heroes of the United States military, past, present, and future. I thought this would be a fun, romantic way to bring a side of your story to life—with a little bit of spice. However, I need to touch on the dark, the deep, and the pain. You’re out there in the trenches each and every day, and the men and women serving this country have my unwavering support. God bless you for what you do! I am only here today with the ability to be a writer because you gave it to me. Each service member plays a part. To the families that are left at home, I acknowledge you as the unsung heroes; when the military serves, you serve too. Much love, thanks, and appreciation from my military family to yours.
Contents
Synopsis
Prologue
Chapter 1: Falling Up the Stairs
Chapter 2: Never Really Came Back
Chapter 3: Schmooze for the News
Chapter 4: Prickly and Dickly Rhyme
Chapter 5: Parting of the Seas
Chapter 6: Never Everly
Chapter 7: No-Go Zone
Chapter 8: Scared or Scarred?
Chapter 9: Pussyfooting Around
Chapter 10: Hopefully a Homecoming to Remember
Chapter 11: Is This Girl for Real?
Chapter 12: Ambushed
Chapter 13: The Heat Is On
Chapter 14: Shedding the Layers
Chapter 15: Rigid Digits
Chapter 16: Concoction
Chapter 17: Go Fork Yourself
Chapter 18: Tripped Up
Chapter 19: “Everneth”
Chapter 20: Full Speed Ahead
Chapter 21: Front-Page News
Chapter 22: A Game of Dog and Cat
Chapter 23: The News Never Sleeps
Chapter 24: Falling Down the Stairs
Chapter 25: Stranger Danger
Chapter 26: Go Big or Go Home Alone
Chapter 27: Maverick and Goose
Epilogue
A Force of Nature—Playlist
Teaser: Nursing Myself Back (A Tryst of Fate Series Novel—Book 3)
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Synopsis
Technical Sergeant Brenneth “Brent” Michael Peters, United States Air Force, is reporting for duty.
This is the second novel in A Tryst of Fate Series from writer Kara Liane. However, this steamy contemporary romance book can be read as a standalone. A Force of Nature follows this heartthrob hero on a journey through life in the military, as he finds love unexpectedly.
Brent is a complex, brooding sort with a heart of gold. He has seen a lot in his thirty-three years of life, and his eyes are filled with pain, sadness, and the horrors of his tours of duty overseas. He literally runs into Everly Reynolds at his sister’s college graduation. He finds himself struggling between wanting to challenge her snarky comebacks and ravishing her at first sight.
Everly is a thirty-two-year-old sassy, übercool, small-time reporter who covers various stories in the Philadelphia area. But underneath her bristly attitude lies a woman who recognizes Brent’s pain; it calls to her. She immediately feels a kinship forming between them but doesn’t know if she can take the leap needed to make Brent whole again.
See if these two can find their story even through the obstacles laid at their feet. One thing is for sure: Everly’s mouth can get her into trouble sometimes, but leave it to Brent to find a way to help her put her mouth to better use!
Will their meet-ups become a front-page item or yesterday’s news? Find out now!
Prologue
Brenneth
June 2003
Baghdad, Iraq
Motherfucker, this is not what I signed up for! The more I look around the tent that I currently call home, the more pissed off I get. It’s dusty as shit from the sand and hot as hell from the sun—which already went down, but you wouldn’t know it from the scorching temperature. I’m not a whiny pussy, so don’t start on me. I just thought things would be different with serving in the military.
And don’t get me wrong, I know I’m the one who chose to join and take the sacred oath. But shit, who could have predicted we’d go to damn war? It is my duty, and I am proud to serve, but a part of me wonders how long this will go on. Right now, it doesn’t feel like there is an end in sight.
I just turned twenty a couple of months ago, and every single goddamn day I am reminded that I am not invincible. I am reminded that I could be “next.” I am reminded that war is hell. And I am reminded that it doesn’t matter if I’m on the front lines or not—when my number is up, it’s up.
I am a cargo loader, well, technically an aerial porter, working right on the flight line. We’re called the port dawgs of the air force. You could say that getting shot at constantly adds to the stress. When you’re out uploading or downloading an aircraft, what the hell do you think the enemy is aiming for? If you answered “the fucking aircraft,” then you’re correct. So those of us on the ground working the missions are just casualties—the result of being in the right place at the wrong time.
; Part of my job is HR, which means “human remains.” Loading dead bodies takes its fucking toll on the mind. Every single day, I’m tempted to snatch the satellite phone and call back to Texas to hear my parents’ voices. I am also desperate to talk to Little Bit. I miss my baby sister; she’s only nine. I dread not being there while she’s growing up, especially without my protection. But I can never find the courage to call back home. I am weak and pathetic. I can’t let my family know I’m over here bleeding fear. So I opt to write letters instead; letters are a safe choice. No internet means no email, so snail mail is all we’ve got.
Where the hell is home now for me, anyway? I was stationed in Oklahoma, and after only being there a little over a year, I got tasked for deployment to this shithole. Neither BMT (Basic Military Training) nor tech school could have prepared me for this. I joined in 2001 but before September 11, before America was forever changed. Yup, I was just fresh out of high school and thought I knew what signing on the dotted line meant. Shit, I had it all wrong. Would I do anything differently, though? Hell no! I get the feeling I’m meant to be here.
The siren is going off again. Another mortar attack coming in. I won’t even bother to get under my bed this time for shelter. What’s the point? I’m just an A1C (Airman First Class), and no one cares about a young rookie airman. I might as well bend over and kiss my ass goodbye. Hell, I am just another number, just another pawn in this game that I will never understand.
Everyone is shouting outside my tent.
Then, dead silence.
Chapter 1: Falling Up the Stairs
Brenneth
December 17, 2016
I was sitting next to my brother-in-law, Alexi, at my little sister’s college graduation from Temple University. We were packed in the auditorium like sardines, and my air force blues uniform was suffocating me more each minute. The air tasted stale, and I was constantly fidgeting—to no fucking end. Let me be clear, though, in saying that I did want to be there. I was so proud of my little sis, Caylan, who happens to be Alexi’s wife. She graduated with honors with a bachelor’s in environmental science.
I am in awe of the woman she has become. I’ve always been incredibly overprotective of her, so after a recent attack and kidnapping by a pseudo ex-boyfriend from our home state of Texas—and when I found out I had been left out of the ordeal of her first attack the year prior—I went ballistic. God, that’s a long story in itself. But as a family, we’ve worked through everything and agreed there would be no more secrets. I know why they kept me in the dark, though. They knew I would have gone after that worthless, doesn’t-deserve-to-live, piece-of-shit Greg after the first assault.
When he pursued her a second time, Alexi and I came to her rescue. We found her in an abandoned warehouse down by Penn’s Landing in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I had my finger on the trigger and the gun aimed right at Greg’s head. I almost fucking blew away the scumbag, but Caylan stopped me. With her being pregnant and scared, and in such a vulnerable state at that moment, it was a sobering experience. It snapped me out of my crippling rage. I had realized I couldn’t let her witness me become a killer, even if the bastard deserved it.
But it’s okay; he got it in the end. Moments after we fought off Greg and saved my sister, he fell into a hole in the floor at the warehouse that was on the river. All three of us watched the lowlife drown in the murky water at our feet. I still hadn’t lost one night of sleep over his death. What I had lost sleep over, though, was thinking about what she must have endured. The details of her attacks turned my stomach.
Christ, she’s my baby sister. How was I supposed to forgive myself for failing her? I’ve been trying to get better about realizing she’s not mine to watch over anymore. Well, of course I always would watch over her, but Alexi was the main man for the job now; the fucker makes that quite clear at every opportunity.
Caylan was right: I would have been discharged from the military and consequently thrown in prison if I had acted on my impulses about what to do to the little shit. I should be grateful in some ways that she never told me previously about the horrors. All that is holding me together these days is knowing I have a career and a job to do. This was a calling for me. I bleed fucking red, white, and blue. But my PTSD was bad, hence the problem I was having being stuffed into that place like cattle.
I kept wishing Greg had been there for me to take out all of my anger and frustration on. Pfft, he got off easy. I would have derived so much satisfaction from using him as a human punching bag, pummeling him into oblivion. That would have been well worth whatever consequences I would have faced. I wouldn’t have divulged that little fantasy to anyone, though. They’d have locked me up in some loony bin and thrown away the key. I’d surely have gotten med-boarded after intense psych evals, and my long fifteen years of military service would have been for nothing. No, no one could know my innermost thoughts.
I intentionally nudged Alexi in the side but played it off like it was accidental. I liked giving him a couple shots here and there. Don’t get me wrong, I like the dude, and he is good for my sister. But let’s face it—no guy will ever be good enough for Caylan. And damn Alexi for trying to do things his way all the time! Like I said, I’m still learning to step back and let him handle things when it comes to her, but it’s hard. I’m eleven years older than she is, so you have to understand that she’s always been my responsibility. I’ve never felt burdened by it, though. I love her so much.
I couldn’t believe I was going to be an uncle. Caylan was seven months pregnant at the time, with my niece. She wore pregnancy well. She glowed, and it was a sight to behold. There was no baby name then, so I’d taken to calling her “Lil’ Bits” since I used to call Caylan “Little Bit.” I hoped I wasn’t going to get deployed again anytime soon, that I’d actually be there for the birth. My “tempo band,” or deployment window rather, fell right around the time she was due. I had not been tasked yet, but I figured inevitably someone in my squadron would not have been able to fulfill the slot. That they’d probably send me back to one of the various wastelands. I was all healed up from my surgery the previous May. The doctors repaired my leg after an injury I sustained while I was in Afghanistan. I went through intense physical therapy for months, but I was fully cleared and ready to go.
Alexi had turned to me like he had something to ask, but then we heard the name we’d been waiting for announced from the stage.
“Caylan Bree Graham,” the announcer called out.
Caylan walked across the stage, and we all cheered, hooted, and hollered. Shit, I was so damn proud! She was going after her dreams. I need to take lessons from my little sis; I’ve wasted too many years not going after some of mine.
Once my sister’s name was announced, I couldn’t sit a moment longer. The walls were closing in on me. I was sweating profusely, and I knew I was about to rip my uniform to shreds any damn second, clawing it the hell off me. What a disgrace I’d be to my branch then.
I had to get the hell out of there. I abruptly stood up and damn near crushed the gift bag at Alexi’s feet. What a friggin’ pussy that one is. He spoils my sister, but I guess I should be grateful she has someone to dote on her. Damn, I only got her a card!
My parents and cousin Meg all had concerned looks on their faces as I darted out of the stadium seating. They probably thought I was losing it, but I didn’t give a fuck because I was. My heart was pounding so hard, I thought it would thump right out of my chest. I was clambering for the nearest exit. I frantically looked in all directions. It appeared up was the way to go. I continually stumbled and fell up the stairs trying to get my footing. What a freaking embarrassment. My shiny black shoes were surely scuffed up. This was not how I wanted to present myself to the world when I was in uniform. Being an airman is a way of life, not just a job.
I made it out through the exit and down the corridor. I was looking in both directions to find the goddamn restroom. The area was completely empty, which made me breathe a sigh of relief. I decided
to turn right and head that way.
Out of nowhere, I ran into a woman.
It was a hard hit. After all, I am a big fucking guy. I just saw a mass of blonde curls and arms and legs flailing about.
“Shit!” I exclaimed as I tried to stand up.
Add a dirty uniform from the dusty floor to the list of things going wrong. I brushed off some of the dirt and then realized she was still on her ass with her head cast down. I didn’t know who ran into whom, but where the hell were my manners? I guessed they up and left with my goddamn brain when I ran from my seat. I’ve always tried to portray a gentleman when I wear my blues, but that day I was failing miserably on all counts. I reached down for the woman’s hand, and she looked up with disdain and annoyance etched on her face. I sucked in a sharp breath. If I wasn’t already sweating, I’d have been a friggin’ tidal wave of perspiration by then anyway.
Fuck, she was hot! She looked to be about my age, so I felt tongue-tied at first. Her face was heart-shaped and framed by bouncy golden spirals going off in every direction. She had emerald-green eyes and freckles splashed across her dusky-apple cheeks and narrow nose. Her lips were a delicate pink, and she had a dainty silver nose ring in her right nostril—it was sexy as hell. The matching silver hoops in her ears stuck out noticeably, but I didn’t make it past her face because she interrupted my gawking.
“Well, shit. What a nice greeting, soldier,” she grumbled.
I righted her onto her feet and took in the rest of her body. Unfortunately, it was well hidden behind layers of clothes. But I could tell she was lean. I’m six one, and she looked to be about five nine. She was wearing some kind of denim ballet slippers or flats—whatever chicks call them. Her flowy, ankle-length, patterned skirt gave her a bohemian-chic look. Her top was white and tucked into the skirt to give it that billowy effect. She’d paired those with a cropped denim jacket.
