by Reagan James
For Honor
Elite Force Protectors Book 1
Reagan James
Run + Jump Books
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Other Books By Reagan James
For Liberty
Elite Force Protectors Book 2
Launch Date: April 2017
For Noble
Elite Force Protectors Book 3
Launch Date: May 2017
For Hope
Elite Force Protectors Book 4
Launch Date: June 2017
For Victory
Elite Force Protectors Book 5
Launch Date: July 2017
For Ever
Elite Force Protectors Book 5
Launch Date: August 2017
For Honor
A Secret Baby Military Millionaire Romance
Straight out of photojournalism school, feisty Honor Adams is given the opportunity of a lifetime—to photograph life in “The Green Zone” for three months—the US Military’s largest and safest “mini city”, located amidst the most dangerous war zones on earth.
Known only as “The Chaperone”, Axel Walker isn’t like the other soldiers in The Green Zone. Strong, focused, and gorgeous, Axel is on a top-secret mission. No one can know what that is, why he is there, and most importantly, who he really is.
A chance meeting between Honor and Axel erupts into the most sensual and passionate love. It is beyond either of their wildest dreams. Soul mates really do exist. But for how long?
As Axel falls deeper and deeper for Honor, he realizes he must reveal his true identity, but before he can, lawless rebels attack and the two lovers are separated—perhaps never to be reunited again.
Two years later, Honor has put her life, and heart, back together and she even has a new career to focus on… but that’s not all she has in her life.
Will Honor ever hear from Axel again?
Will Honor ever learn who Axel truly is?
Will Axel ever meet... his son?
This love story kicks off the Elite Force Protectors Series (6 books in total) and is about an American hero who overcomes all odds to give his beautiful bride the HEA she deserves -- plus super steamy scenes and a love so powerful that not even rebel forces could rip them apart. There is no cliff hanger *but* there are shocking twists and turns during this fast and sexy 90 minute read.
One
Honor
The old truck swerved violently to miss yet another pot hole — or maybe a landmine.
Who knows.
I gently bit the inside of my cheek to remain calm, stared at my feet, and focused on carefully placing my camera lens back into its bag.
The lens was old but special; it was from the set my dad had left me before his last assignment…
I let a sigh out.
He never even got to see me graduate with a degree in photojournalism, just like him. But I couldn’t think about now.
This is not the time to get emotional, Honor, I said to myself.
I was crammed onto the back of a dirty pickup truck that sped frantically towards the US Military Green Zone and away from one of the most dangerous conflict areas in the Middle East: The Red Zone.
In truth, the Red Zone was really more like a small city. Once a perfectly peaceful place with lush landscape, beautiful buildings and happy folk, it was presently being ransacked and pillaged by various militia groups. Families torn apart and kids everywhere, abducted to serve as boy soldiers and child-brides to a brutal rebel force called The Fear Division.
Some of my fellow journalists called it ‘Hell’s Backyard’. The soldiers just called it ‘The Dump’. And the people who managed to escape called themselves ‘The Lucky’.
We were not so lucky that day, at least as far as work was concerned. We’d left well before sunrise, me and a handful of reporters, photojournalists, plus a couple of doctors and medical support personnel, and we wanted get some interviews and hopefully good video footage of the Doctors Without Borders’ volunteers and Red Cross workers. But unfortunately it was complete chaos and frustration and we were mostly coming home empty handed—except for the increasingly loud explosions in the distance—hence the frantic drive back to safety.
I personally had hoped to get a couple of good shots of the damage that The Fear Division rebels had caused during their last rampage through The Red Zone, but we weren’t allowed to “go that deep”. So I spent most of the day taking pictures of aid workers and local children, just waiting for our military chaperone (a soldier who had accompanied us that day) to tell us it was time to go home. I was exhausted and very, very sandy. I was looking forward to heading back to my temporary home.
The Green Zone was, not surprisingly, the complete opposite of the Red Zone: it was a US Military safe, beautiful, and expertly organized mini city with a huge training facility, several pretty apartment complexes with parks and walkways, a well equipped medical centre, and even some decent restaurants for those times when the journalists and medical personnel could no longer stomach eating in the military canteen.
Three weeks ago, when I first came here, I was overwhelmed, to say the least.
It was a big shock to leave California—but I wanted to make my dad proud and besides, you can’t be gutsy in Santa Cruz. It was scary at first, this crazy world where I felt so close to danger at every moment, but I was slowly becoming accustomed to it and almost starting to crave it.
Two
Axel
Where the hell did we find this guy, I laughed to myself as we swerved all over the road on our way back to the Green Zone. This has got to be the worst extraction driver we’ve ever had.
I almost let a small chuckle escape at how bad he was, but the poor kid, a local we hired just last week, he was barely a teenager and he was clearly terrified. I quickly surveyed the passengers on the truck and decided that it was an equal split between those who seemed excited, those who seemed scared, and those who really didn’t give a shit.
I wasn’t the least bit anxious. In fact, I was irritated that we were headed back to safety, back to The Green Zone. I can’t do my job, my duty, this far away from the action. It’s never been my calling to sit back and let the bad guys win. It’s not how I’m built. I’m not like the others. Never have been. I’m not even really a soldier, I’ll admit that. What I am is a warrior.
Sure, it’s cost me at times over the years, I live a lonelier life than most—few people know the real me, or where I actually come from—but it’s also why I was chosen to be an Elite Force Protector.
There’s only six of us at any given time—each of us chosen for our own unique expertise and each of us given our own secret mission—and, aside from our on-site “contacts”, we work alone.
My mission was to dismantle The Fear Division: the Middle East’s most lawless, vile rebel force. But no one could know that. Not inside the walls of the Green Zone and definitely not outside of it. Reason being, once The Fear Division knows you’re coming after them, they don’t even bother going after you.
Instead, they attack your family, your loved ones, your friends, hell, your third grade teacher, anyone who’s ever mattered to you. That’s why I
stick to myself. I could never put anyone I care about in harm’s way. Especially in the way of these animals.
Still, I needed a way to get into the Red Zone and posing as a low level military escort was a perfect cover. “The Chaperone”, that’s what they called me. And I played the part well. Whether it’s babysitting journalists or guarding medical supplies, I blend in, do my job, and most people don’t even notice me. That’s how I get in to the most dangerous conflict zones without anyone acknowledging my presence.
We hit a huge pothole and a bunch of passengers jolted in the air. I let a smile escape, my Chevy would never bounce around like this rusty old hunk of metal.
When everyone had settled down I took the chance to look up from under my cap and scan the others on the truck. I’d barely noticed them all day, if I’m being honest, we’d left early, just after 2 am, and I had one mission that day, it was a small task that was part of a bigger operation but I’d done my duty. I’d retrieved some intel that I would later pass on to my contact and I should have been pleased I guess, but I’d rather still be there, driving those rat bastards out of the Red Zone.
There will be lots more chances, Axe, I told myself.
I looked around the truck some more. Aside from the doctors and nurses I recognized from the Green Zone Medical Centre, I counted five or six male journalists huddled together. They were talking excitedly about what they had seen in the Red Zone that day—they were classic adrenaline junkies. Not that I blame them. I live for this, too. There was a female journalist I didn’t think much of, she looked uncomfortable and out of place. And then there was her.
Three
Honor
I scanned my fellow passengers on the truck, there were at least twelve of us, maybe more, some journalists and photographers like me, and a team of military medics and nurses, too—all of them covered in blood and looking exhausted from a long day of helping people.
Three weeks ago a scene like that would have jarred me, but like I said, I was starting to crave the excitement. I found myself almost jealous of the blood-soaked medical personnel. At least they had helped people that day, at least they had made a difference.
You can’t think like that, Honor, I scolded myself.
My eyes came to rest on a huge American soldier who leaned against the cab of the truck. He didn’t even seem to notice the huge potholes in the road, the choking heat, and the sense of panic that seemed to hang in the air even during times of relative boredom.
He had barely acknowledged any of us that day but his presence was still comforting—come to think of it I didn’t even know his name—everyone just referred to him as “The Chaperone”.
I strained to see if a least his surname was embroidered somewhere on his military uniform, like it is with most soldiers. It wasn’t. He wore a plain dark grey v-neck t-shirt with no sign of military affiliation on it except for the American Ranger tattoos that peaked out from under his shirt sleeves. His biceps flexed naturally—making his tats even more prominent—as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.
He had a thick dark khaki nylon belt and classic military issued cargoes… but there was something about his t-shirt and also his cap, for that matter, that stood out to me. It was like a plain greyish baseball cap, very unlike what you see on other soldiers, and it was pulled low over his eyes so I could only see his lips and jaw line. He wasn’t smiling or frowning, he was just focused and calm.
I snapped back to the moment and tried to look casually elsewhere—hoping he hadn’t caught me staring at him. But I found myself drawn to him. I stole just one more glance in his direction and found myself a little disappointed that he didn’t seem to notice my existence at all. He was transfixed on the Red Zone as it slowly disappeared into the dusty horizon. I wondered if he would have preferred to be back there.
Four
Axel
There were only two girls on the truck who were not medical staff. One cried loudly and looked around frantically, as though there was an escape hatch back to her old life and she just had to find it. Honestly I wondered why girls like that even bothered to come over here.
The other girl, from what I could see, was a photojournalist. She had her eyes closed but I could tell she was focused and calm, not scared or even nervous. Unlike the first girl whose curly hair blew wildly in every direction, the photojournalist had a high ponytail that swung softly despite the jolty motion of the truck—as though she was on a sunset cruise and not the back of a truck speeding outta hell.
She had rosy cheeks, too, which seemed out of place in this hell hole, and her lips weren’t dry like the other girl’s. They were pink and soft-looking.
Hmm, I caught myself wondering, maybe she’s just arrived here.
My attention came back to the moment when a series of blasts went off in the near distance. They were erratic and extremely loud. Some of the passengers yelped but I felt a surge of excitement as I subtly reaffirmed my grip on my assault rifle. I couldn’t help but notice the girl with the ponytail kept her eyes closed but smiled a little, as though she liked the closeness of danger, too.
Damn, I thought as I looked back towards the Red Zone, I should be there.
But I told myself to let it go. Today’s mission had gone well, small as it was and insignificant as it felt, it was part of a bigger mission and besides, according to everyone on that truck and pretty much everyone in the Green Zone I was “just a chaperone”… so I kept my impatience to myself.
No one could find out who I really was.
Five
Honor
The next big bump in the road made my arms fly up into the air and I used the momentum to get the strap of my camera bag over my head and around my shoulder. I clutched it close to my body and even though I knew we couldn’t be far from the Green Zone, I started to become just a bit anxious. I couldn’t let it show, though.
I took a big breath and closed my eyes. I visualized the little yoga studio I used to practice at back home in California. That peaceful place seemed a world away from where I was now and I almost laughed out loud at the irony of it all. I had volunteered to come here—actually no, I had hounded my editor until he let me go. I had to… for dad.
And now here I was in the back of a rickety pickup truck, clutching my camera bag, and hoping for two things: one, that I would prove myself over the next three months as a reputable photojournalist, just like my dad was and two, that I would not die.
Stop being dramatic, Honor, I thought to myself as loud gunfire erupted in the not too far distance.
I felt the truck accelerate as yet another series of blasts went off. The only other female journalist started to cry even louder and looked around frantically—as though she wanted to hop off the truck and be magically transported back home.
Sorry girl, I thought, it doesn’t work that way. We chose to be here. The truck swerved violently again and I hoped that the Green Zone wasn’t far off. But I didn’t let it show.
Six
Honor
One Month Ago
“Cooper please don’t make this any harder than it has to be,” I pleaded.
Why did I think he would take my leaving well?
We’d been going round and around on this ridiculous carousel of emotions—on and off again, on and off again, on and off again. Of course change is not easy, to put it mildly, it’s terrifying, especially where I was headed off to. But I had to do this, for Dad, my country, heck, if I’m honest, I had to do this for me.
“Jump and the net will appear,” that’s what Dad always used to say.
“You’re being incredibly selfish,” that’s what Cooper seemed to be saying more and more of these days.
“Please try to understand,” I begged again. I took his hands.
It always seemed to be me doing the comforting, the reassuring, so much for my Prince Charming, not that I needed one, but once in awhile it would be nice if…
“Honor? Hello!” Cooper snapped my attention back to our conversat
ion.
I looked around our little apartment—the one we had shared for two years. Cooper was working in computer programming and I had graduated the previous year from photojournalism school. I was lucky enough to find a job right out of college at an online news publication that covered world events from a “raw” perspective and I loved every second of it. The company was small but who knows what could happen in the future. All I knew was this job was a critical stepping stone in my career, so when the chance to go on a three month trip to the Green Zone came up I couldn’t say no and neither could my editor—I had begged him day in and day out to let me go. He finally laughed, threw his hands up, and gave in.
“Go make us proud,” he said. “I know your Dad would be.”
I beamed.
“Honor!” Cooper huffed. “You’re there already, in your mind. I can tell.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Of course I felt guilty. Cooper had been there by my side, through all the teenage milestones and of course all the “firsts”. He had even been there with me after I lost my dad. But did that mean I owed him the rest of my life?
“In a word, no,” my mom had said. She was always supportive of me. “You won’t get another chance like this, Honor. You need to go for it.”
Still, Cooper was my first love and my best friend. But I couldn’t deny that it was comfortable, it had become predictable and when I looked at him I could see the rest of my life laid out before me: safe, secure, and utterly devoid of surprises. A lot of girls would have jumped at the chance to be with Cooper, but increasingly, I was feeling suffocated.