Unsurprisingly Complicated by Claudia Y. Burgoa
Copyright ©2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, media, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Design by Hang Le
Edited by Carol Allen
Formatted by Shirley Quinones
Unlike Any Other and the Unexpected series began with a simple thought—more like a question.
Have you ever watched a movie, a favorite television series, or listen to a band play some music, and seem to connect with the artist? Believe they are a part of your life?
But, do we really know them?
And this is where I was stumped, we don’t, and that led me to thinking about how many secrets they must harbor.
What is behind closed doors?
That question brought into mind several scenarios. Scenarios that made me wonder what happens to the children and to the people they love. And that’s how AJ’s story began to shape in my head.
It all started with a girl named AJ and her famous parents who protected her and her brothers from the real world for years.
I talked it through with a couple of people before I dared to write it, which led to the scenario changing a few times. For several months, I wrote about these two characters, their backstory, tweaked it, and finally send it to the beta readers who loved the plot but felt something was missing.
In my mind, this was a stand-alone book with a sweet, intriguing love story about family, loyalty, and the reality of life.
However, that was the tip of the iceberg. I had in my hands the stories of not only two characters, but also several extraordinary humans who fight against the odds, their demons, and life’s bitter surprises to find a piece of happiness.
After many revisions, our Unexpected series goes as follows:
Unlike Any Other ~ Gabe’s story
Unsurprisingly Complicated ~ Mason’s story.
Uncharted ~ Jacob (JC’s) story
Uncut ~ Matthew (MJ’s) story
Unable to Forget ~ Porter’s story
By now, you are probably wondering where AJ is—especially since she was the inspiration behind this series. Don’t worry though—she’s everywhere. While you enjoy the story of each of our characters, you’ll follow her struggles of trying to stay sane around her group of guys.
After you finish the book, and if you enjoyed it. Please, do me a big favor and leave a review. Let other readers know about it and spread the word.
Thank you much,
Claudia ♥
The Geek in my life
The thermal jacket I wear barely blocks the cold air that threatens to slip through and slow me down if I take a break. As I run through the snowy Rocky Mountains, I survey the landscape skimming by on either side of the trail. My watch beeps, indicating that I’ve run ten miles, and I decrease my speed to turn around. Continuing my nightly jog back to the hotel in the small town of Ogden, Utah, it should only take me about twenty minutes to arrive.
Cold snowflakes start to land on my cheeks, and the regret of not owning a ski mask gnaws at me. I try to enjoy the sight of the fresh white powder filling the arms of the evergreens around me instead of worrying about the possible frostbite if I don’t rush through the path. The snowpack on the trail isn’t deep; swirls of powdery snow are kicked up by the intermittent gusts of wind. I welcome the conditions, taking it as training for any future mission that might involve any or all of these. I sprint through the early December weather in Utah’s icy paradise and make it back to the hotel within the twenty-minute mark, just in time to receive a call.
“What can I do for you Kowalski?” I press the answering switch of my Bluetooth.
“Raise my salary, increase my annual vacation time and a hefty bonus,” he replies on the other line.
I groan in response, letting out a huge breath as I recover from my run.
“Like your humor.” I take off my gloves and unzip my jacket while walking through the lobby.
From the corner of my eye, I notice a waving from the front desk. Assuming it’s the same girl who flirted with the Deckers and me as we checked-in, I decide to ignore her gesture and continue toward the staircase.
“At least you do. The wife thinks I’m an idiot.” His tone carries no offense to what Karen, his wife, might say or think about him.
I chuckle.
“She’s a smart woman; tell me again, how did you convince her to marry you?”
Kowalski, a longtime friend and one of the best operatives of my company, laughs along with me. I met him a few years ago while I was working a security detail for my dad at one of the multiple tours he covered. Karl Kowalski had finished his third and last tour in Afghanistan, and after being honorably discharged from the army, he decided to use his skills to make a living. At the time, he thought that working for my father was a good idea.
Like me, Dad owns a security company. He specializes in big celebrity events—tours, premiers, film shootings, everyday bodyguards. The needs are endless.
Kowalski went from the desert, dealing with a war, to protecting famous artists and singers who have a vast number of followers. Not the best way to reintroduce himself to civilization.
After the last concert I worked for Dad, and with my father’s permission, I offered him a job. Skeptical, he promised to think about it. I understood; he already had something solid, and I was only starting out. I handed him my contact information and told him to sleep on it for several days, that I had a few contracts in the works and having a staff was imperative.
“This famous-people gig might not be for you,” I spoke as I saw it. Then I pointed at the stage where the concert had taken place and the amount of female underwear that had been thrown during the event. He fought against a militia, but now he was fighting horny groupies. “The company is in the early stages, but we’ll grow.”
His hulk-like frame remained placid. Kowalski stared at me with pursed lips and brows knitted together in a frown that appeared to crinkle his fresh shaven head. “How far away will I be from the pansy boy?” Dad had assigned Porter Kendrick’s security to Karl. “Because if I have to see him fuck another girl while stoned out of his mind or keep the girl he supposedly loves away while he’s doing a groupie, I’m going to kick his ass.”
“Far enough,” I promised.
He changed his mind, took the job on the spot, and moved to Seattle without hesitation.
“For your information, Bradley, my wife married me because I’m good looking,” he replies. I scratch the back of my neck and take the staircase to the second floor. After a short silence, he continues the discussion. “Why are you in Utah?”
It’s the same question I have asked myself for the past few days. I’m helping Ainsley move her belongings to her parent’s home while she figures out her future. Something her parents can do without my help, but since I’m always involved in her life, I wanted to be part of this ‘closin
g an old chapter and opening a new one’ movement. Plus, ever since we were little, I had trouble saying no to her.
“I’m helping a friend move.” I don’t go into detail on who I’m talking about or why. As I reach the white door of my room, I search for my card key, swipe it, and enter. “Why did you call me?”
“We think we have a location on Kennedy,” he explains. I slide off the first layer of clothing I wear. “We received several tips within the past two hours.”
Kennedy is a former FBI agent who decided to switch sides and is on the Most Wanted list of several different agencies around the world—including his former employer. Preston Kennedy is wanted in multiple countries, a hacker and a bomb specialist being top on his list of accomplishments. He’s responsible for the death of several diplomats and has sold essential information from agencies like the Interpol, CIA, and others to terrorists.
“Reliable?” I question Kowalski.
“No, I haven’t been able to confirm his presence in Las Vegas or San Francisco.” His voice loses volume; I guess he continues working on the confirmation of Kennedy’s whereabouts. “We broke into the CCTV of surrounding hotels and streets, nothing’s come up. It’s up to you if you want to head south to check it out.”
I pace around the room, clear my throat a few times while taking off the cold jacket I wear. The travel time between Ogden and Las Vegas is about an hour and a half. There’s plenty of time for me to fly down, find out if the rumors about Kennedy are reliable, and try to catch him. Either way, I can be back here on time tomorrow for the drive to the Decker compound.
“By the way, I tried your other phone, but it’s off.” He breaks the silence and my train of thought. “You must have a few voicemails with the same information. Do you want me to call Wings so he can fly you out to either place?”
Landon Wings is one of my best friends since high school and the best pilot I know. He graduated best in his class from the Air Force Academy and served his country for several years until he decided to retire.
“Yes, send him in and you head to San Francisco with a team.” I take off my shirt, careful of the Bluetooth while I continue speaking. “Tell him to bring a change of work clothes.”
“I made sure to send your shit with him. I’m about to land in San Francisco; I’ll call you if I find something or trap him.” He hangs up the phone.
I’m grateful for having him as my right-hand man. From the sound of it, he has everything under control. I rush, knowing that I don’t have much time before Wings arrives; this isn’t the first time they’d call only minutes before they are en route to me. It doesn’t take me long to finish undressing, take a quick shower, and put on some sweats while I wait for my work clothes to arrive. Biding time, I power up my phone. The untraceable gadget that works almost everywhere in the world. When it comes to life, there are seven voicemails, but only one that matters.
“Hi, Mase!” Nine’s sweet voice greets me. “So, here I am in San Diego, and not to visit the zoo. We should do that someday. Plan a fun road trip and visit cool landmarks. A change from all the trips we’ve taken because my life sucks. Well, it was one fucked up trip, but let’s rewrite it. You may ask yourself why I used your special number. Well, it’s because that’s the only one I know by heart. My phone’s with the rest of my belongings. I didn’t see the point of bringing it, as the list of ‘things you should keep at home’ stated that cell phones and any other electronics were unacceptable. It made sense at the time to only bring the new journal and clothes. Sense, ha, nothing about that ‘psychotic Thanksgiving trip,’ as my brothers call it, made sense. There wasn’t a plan when I jumped on a plane and headed to Santa Barbara; well, other than confronting Dad. Nothing went as I expected. Nah, who am I kidding? I had no idea what I expected to accomplish, but at least my parents are back together and things are out in the open. As my good friend Mason says, ‘I won’t reach closure until I talk about it.’ Well, I talked; let’s see how it pays out.”
She stops and laughs. The sound of her laughter draws a smile on my lips. Sweet and cheery with a hint of mischief. She’s right. That was a crazy visit and had been worthwhile for everyone. Her parent’s reconciliation happened, and she faced those crazy demons she had carried for so long.
“Anyway, back to us.” She clears her throat, and my eyes open wide.
“No!” I panic out loud. There’s no fucking us. Did I do something for her to get some crazy idea? There’s a sharp uncertainty hitting hard on the back of my head.
“The purpose of my call,” she continues. “You said, ‘call me when you arrive so I know that you made it.’ Well, here’s the call. How are things with my guys? I wish I was there with them, but I’m taking a few more days to deal with everything that happened with Porter and me. Also getting ready for the big changes coming my way. See you around, and thank you for always being there for me.”
There’s a pause for a few breaths before her voice comes back, “You’re a true hero. Miss me.”
My body relaxes, my lungs release a huge amount of air, and my chest is no longer tight as a rope. Damn, her words implying an us shocked me. The effects of being around her for an entire weekend. We stayed glued to each other. She had a tremendous breakdown, and I offered my shoulder for her to lean on. I didn’t mean anything, nor did I want her to take it the wrong way.
Shit, I do find her attractive.
Who knew the girl cleaned up that nice? I didn’t see that coming. When I’m around her, she wears baggy sweats and loose t-shirts, and even then, I somehow found her attractive. Now, it’s impossible not to think of her in other ways. Like on top of a bed with her brown, curly hair spread on my pillow—under me. Riding me on any available surface. Against the walls of the pool. She never wore skimpy dresses around me. The kind that showed her toned legs or jeans that delineated her perfect curves.
Soft and round.
Those tops that highlighted her tits. The fucking bikinis she wore, which could be construed illegal in certain parts of the world and killed me each time we swam together—daily. Now she isn’t only pretty, but hot, and I have to scrape all those images and thoughts from my brain.
She’s Nine.
She and I have been friends for a long time. Contrary to her brothers, who I hang out with often, I don’t see her much, but we understand each other. She has the gift of lifting me when I’m down. Then when shit hits the fan, I’m there for her.
Shaking my head, I get my bearings together before I make the call. Her voicemail picks up immediately.
“Nine, I’m happy to hear that you’re in San Diego, and yes, I’ll be delighted to take you to the zoo. The trip with your guys is interesting. Knowing them for years isn’t the same as spending day and night with them on the road. Chris doesn’t like me; I clearly did something to your papi because he’s short with me. Gabe’s cool, and your brothers, as usual, are being idiots. If I didn’t know them well, I’d believe they lack an IQ. We should be arriving at the compound tomorrow. I’ll help with the unpacking and then head back to work.”
I take a breath after the long speech. “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you? Those are some crazy things you battle. I’m a co-hero, don’t forget that. You’re the heroine. Take care of yourself, supergirl.”
While waiting for Wings, I go through my emails, answer a few pressing issues and delegate others. Then I try to think about the steps I’ll take once we land in Las Vegas, where presumably Kennedy hides inside one of the buildings that is part of the financial district.
Three fast knocks and one slam on the door indicates that Landon ‘Wings’ Jensen has arrived. Opening the door, I find him holding the duffle bag out, an arched brow and those brown hooded eyes expecting some kind of explanation.
“Utah?” He pushes through, hands me the bag, and picks up the television remote. “It’s fucking freezing here. There’s no limit to where you’d go, is there?”
I have no fucking idea what that means.
“Hurry up.
If we’re lucky, we’ll make it there within an hour. I have an entire team waiting for your instructions.” Landon folds his tall, lanky body onto the bed as I change into my black cargo pants, my black t-shirt, and my bulletproof jacket.
“Kowalski is curious about this moving a friend.” He mutes the television, giving me his undivided attention. “I didn’t tell him anything because we’re not back in high school, nor do we talk about our issues with boys.”
I ignore him and continue getting ready by pulling my gun, knife, and other necessities out of my luggage.
“Have you thought about dating Ainse?” The curious glare with that tilted chin grabs my attention. “Just saying, you would do anything for her. I bet you’d take a bullet for her like I would for my wife, Donna. How many times have I flown you to wherever she is at whatever time of the day or night she calls?”
Often.
I dismiss his question for a number of reasons. First, I lost count a long time ago of how many times I pick up the phone and call him for a helicopter or plane ride to wherever she is. Then there’s the essential one—we’re guys, we don’t discuss this shit. Finally, the one that matters the most: I don’t discuss Nine with anyone, not even him—one of my best friends. I’ve never known why I would literally jump out of a plane for her or rush to her rescue. There has to be some scientific explanation that I will never understand. As I finish dressing and gathering all my shit, I open the main door of the room. I send him a warning glare to keep his mouth shut.
Landon lifts his palms, rises from the bed, and heads to the open door to leave. He knows the discussion is over. On my way to the stairwell, I stop at the Decker’s room.
“Yes?” Christian—Ainsley’s father—answers the door. His green eyes stare at me and then at Wings. “Why are you dressed in black and carrying all that shit on your belt? Halloween was a few weeks ago.” He points at my utility belt and the gadgets I usually carry for my missions.
“I have a last minute gig.” My stammering voice surprises me. The man is three feet shorter than me, yet he imposes some superiority over, me, no matter that I’m the one carrying weapons. “It shouldn’t take me long, but if it does, please wait for me.”
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