Freedom: A Captivating and consuming contemporary romance (Freedom series Book 1) Read online

  My contact at IMA, Sarah, had also let me know that there would be a security team at the airport waiting on my arrival who would be escorting me to the army base, which was a relief because I sure as hell wasn't going to take a chance driving myself around this unfamiliar area. Back home I could get lost driving around the car park at the local shopping mall, never mind navigating in a strange country.

  I had made sure I had worn comfortable clothing for traveling which included a pair of light-colored cargo pants with lots of deep pockets these came in handy for keeping my papers, phone, and my all-important iPod, with its sixteen gigs of fully loaded music in one the pockets for quick easy access. On top, I wore a dark tank top covered by a white loose long- sleeved thin shirt and a good comfortable pair of hiking boots. I had also tucked a scarf into my backpack to cover my head on arrival. I had pulled my long hair into a ponytail then tightly braided it to hopefully keep it tidy and out of the way. I knew the average temperature at this time of the year was around 30 degrees centigrade. This is where it had come in handy already living in a hot dry country because I was hoping that I wouldn't have to work too hard to adapt to the climate.... fingers crossed.

  When an announcement was made by the captain that we would be landing in approximately forty minutes I slipped the earphones into my ears, scrolled through my copious amounts of playlists, lay my head back against the headrest and let Pink's latest album take me the rest of the way.

  When the plane touched down with a bump, I looked out the small window at my side and felt small butterflies tickle in the pit of my stomach. When the plane taxied to a stop and it was announced that passengers could now disembark I undid my belt and pulled my backpack from the overhead luggage compartment and made my way to the exit door along with all the other passengers.

  Stepping out onto the stairs that went down to the tarmac I was immediately hit by the scorching heat and had to squint at the sun's brightness. It was so arid and there was a strange combination of smells drifting through the air. It smelt like a mixture of sand, engine fuel, cinnamon, and garbage. Hitching my backpack up onto one shoulder, I made my way down the steel stairs and into the airport. Pulling out my papers and passport I took a spot in the long line through customs.

  Finally, after what felt like hours, I made it through to the other side and out through the main doors to what looked like total chaos with frantic looking crowds of people pulling luggage and carrying boxes and bags, flagging down taxis and other vehicles. Taking a look around I could see cars and vans lined up on the road in front of the airport. Some were calling out to get the attention of potential customers needing a ride, and others were holding signs with names on them, so I scanned the people and their faces until I spotted a sign that had “Dr. Tyler” in large bold letters on it so I headed in that direction, dragging my wheeled case behind me.

  Navigating my way through the crowded pathway towards where I saw my name I noticed a dirty white SUV with dark tinted windows and the name IMA printed on the door and a large red cross printed on the roof . As I got closer I saw that the whole vehicle was covered with a thick layer of dirt and dust, you could barely tell that it's true color was meant to be white. There were two large men leaning against it. The man holding the card with my name on it had what looked like brown short cropped hair; he was tall maybe 6ft? give an inch or two; with well defined muscular arms which appeared to be fully covered in an array of colorful tattoos. He was dressed in a pair of dark green cargo pants and a green t-shirt and heavy boots. He also had on what looked like a heavy black flak vest, but the thing that I noticed the most was a gun in its holster sitting against his right hip. For me this was a little weird to see. Because of Australia’s strict gun laws, the only time I ever saw something like that was on a police officer. “Suck it up Casey, you’re not in Kansas anymore” my inner voice whispered to me. As I got closer to both men I tried to zero in on the other guy, which was difficult because he was leaning against the front of the SUV facing away from me and I could only see the back of him. He appeared to be scanning the crowds of people that were scattered around the SUV but what I did notice is that he was a solid looking guy, and I mean beefy solid, his arms were crossed at his chest and even at this distance I could see the material of his black t-shirt is stretched tight against the muscles of his back, not to mention the size of his biceps that are straining against the short sleeves. Even though he is leaning back, I can tell that he is much taller than his partner. He is also wearing dark cargo pants, a flak vest and a gun in its holster is sitting against his hip and strapped to his leg. It’s hard to get a good look at his face from this angle but I can see a strong jawline shadowed by a couple of days of dark stubble, and he has a ball cap pulled over his unruly inky black hair that looks like it’s trying to escape its confinement through every tiny gap in the cap. Getting closer now I see that his skin looks tanned from the sun and he is also sporting an assortment of tattoos on his well defined arms. As he turns his head he is wearing a dark pair of aviators that hide his eyes I’m getting closer to them now, and the closer I get to the two burly men the stronger the butterflies churn in my stomach. I pull my own sunglasses down from where they are perched on the top of my head to shade my eyes from the glare of the sun and hopefully also hide the sparks of fear that I am sure they would be able to see in my own eyes. Coming to a stop straight in front of the guy holding the sign, I let go of the handle on my case, causing it to make a loud “clunk” sound that gets his attention as he stares down at me.

  “You’re here for Dr. Tyler?” I ask him, trying to hide the slight quiver in my voice. “Sure am mam,” he drawled in what sounded like a southern American accent.

  “Then I guess you're here for me.” I smile and hold out my hand to him. After a small pause which includes him looking me up and down like he hasn’t seen a woman for a long time, a smile quirks up at the side of his lips and he takes my hand in his own calloused one and with a very firm grip shakes it.

  “The name’s Jackson Davis mam although most people call me Jax, and this is Nate.” he gestures to the man next to him who still hasn’t turned around yet but then I notice why he has earbuds in his ears. Jackson slaps him on the arm and he swings around to face us, dropping his cigarette to the floor and stepping on it.

  “Nate, this is Dr. Tyler,” Jackson tells him whilst still smiling at me.

  Nate raises his head in silence, then flips out one of the buds from his right ear. He pushes his glasses up onto the top of his head and his frosty narrowed eyes fix onto mine.

  “You’re Dr. Tyler?” He questions with a crook of his eyebrow and a low gravely growl. I get the impression he’s not too impressed, so I try to lighten the introduction a little.

  “Last time I looked at my driver's license I was,” I said.

  “You're a woman?” he questions again.

  “Yep, last time I looked there I was too.” I glance down at my crotch area and smile back at him. Jackson let out a slight chuckle and I look from one man's face to the other and ask slowly.

  “Is that a problem?” Nate’s eyes are steely grey, piercing and icy cold right at this moment.

  “It will be if you don't get that shiny blonde hair of yours covered up” he spits out.

  “Shit, sorry I wasn’t thinking,” I said pulling my backpack off my shoulder and rummaging through it until I find the sheer black scarf I had brought with me and put it over my hair pulling some around my face to try an cover as much as possible.

  “Better?” I asked with a touch of sarcasm in my voice, looking at Nate.

  “Much. Come on its a long drive” he says opening the back door of the SUV and gesturing for me to get in. Throwing my backpack onto the seat, I pull myself up onto the dark leather, Nate pulls my seat belt out and thrusts it into my hand. “Buckle up,” he says as I look at him he slams the door shut so hard I thought the window was going to shatter with the force. Jackson loads my case into the back, and both men climb into the front s
eats and pull on their seat belts. I hear a soft click and noticed that all the doors lock at once. Nate starts the engine and slides it into gear and we pull out onto the dusty road.

  The streets are crowded and small and it takes some skilled weaving and dodging to navigate the endless crowds of people until finally, the SUV cuts a path out onto the open road. I watch as Nate concentrates not only on the road in front of him but also on everything around him in every direction, his eyes seem to dart everywhere and it’s not too much of a hardship watching him either, he has such a strong profile, with that strong jawline and stubble, his thick muscular neck down to his powerful muscled arms and right on down to the large hands that grip tightly onto the steering wheel. I try to look at the various tattoos on his arms but his muscles keep twitching and moving as he drives so I can’t see any details of the ink.

  “There's a cooler on the floor there” Jackson points down towards my feet. “Help yourself to something cold.”

  “Thanks.” Reaching down I pull the lid back and take out a bottle of cold water, releasing the cap and taking a long drink. The chilled water runs over my tongue and moistens my dry throat “mmm I so needed that” I moan.

  “So,” Jackson asked, “Where's that accent coming from?”

  “Australia” I answer before taking another drink.

  “Shit, that's on the other side of the goddamn world, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I guess the same as you.... making a living,” I say, then look out of the window at the passing miles of sand.

  “Well, mam I hope you're prepared for the climate out here?” Jackson says.

  “Well, fortunately, the temperature and dry conditions are pretty similar to home so I can only hope,” I say, then go back to looking out the window. There is nothing but sand in every direction. I watch as a glassy mirage of heat curls up from the ground, a heat I can see but not feel as the coolness of air humming from the air-conditioning swirls around in the SUV. I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes, a wave of tiredness and time disorientation suddenly hitting me hard. Feeling the butterflies starting to flutter in my stomach again and turning into something more, a cold fear starts from deep in the pit of my stomach and slowly starts to rise up into my throat "no, no, no I will not be sick" I try to swallow back the sour taste of bile in my mouth "it's ok, it will be ok remember why you’re here" I tell myself then take nice deep slow breaths to calm myself Jackson turns and looks at me with concern in his eyes.

  “Are you ok?” he asks reaching his hand over his seat and touching my knee. I nod, then he looks at Nate.

  “Pull over” Jackson barks out.

  Nate's head turns sharply to look at him “What?” he bite's out in a harsh tone.

  “Either pull over or your gonna be cleaning puke out of the back seat for the rest of the day,” Jackson tells him.

  Nate turns around to look back at me and I am thinking that maybe the color of what I imagine my face to be right now is what makes him shift the SUV into gear and slow to a stop, pulling over to the side of the road with a curse “Oh, you have got to be friggin kidding me,” he spits out.

  As soon as we come to a stop I open the door and get out, bending and placing my hands on my knees in a half- bent position and, with eyes closed, I slowly breathe in and out struggling to center myself. I hear the other doors open and slam shut and I feel Jackson next to me instantly.

  “Just take it easy now, nice slow breaths” he soothes.

  After a few minutes, I could feel myself starting to calm and pull it all back together. The fuzziness in my head was clearing and so was the nausea, thank god. Slowly I pull myself back into a standing position and take the opened bottle of water that Nate thrusts into my hand “Drink” he commands and I take a few cautious sips then look at Jackson.

  “I'm ok now thanks. I'm sorry just a bad combination of jet lag and lack of sleep I think.”

  “It's ok little lady. We understand it's somewhat of a culture shock when you first get out here but it'll grow on you, just like a bad case of foot fungus.” Jackson grins at me as I feel his hand rubbing circles on my back. I look up at him and smile in appreciation “Thanks”.

  Chapter Four

  Nathanial King

  Two weeks earlier…

  Standing in front of the large wall of panoramic windows in my office I glance down at the bustling traffic of the city of Portland. Yeah, I know I look like an arrogant rich bastard right now, like I’m watching over my kingdom, arms crossed legs slightly apart in my usual rigid stance, casually dressed in jeans and a white dress shirt, opened at the collar with the sleeves rolled halfway up my forearms. I can just hear those exact words coming out of my little brother's mouth if he walked in here right now. Annoying little shit always trying to get me into a suit “It looks professional Nate, it’s good for our image.” If there is one thing I hate it’s a suit, I hate suits they’re stiff and uncomfortable and it’s very rare that I wear anything close to one, especially to the office, unlike Paxton my little brother…the family lawyer.

  I grin to myself and just for a brief moment I’m taken back to when I was about 10 years old, running into this office and finding my father standing in the exact same spot, doing the exact same thing that I’m doing right now, jumping into his big leather chair and him turning to me as he speaks. “Look at that view Nathanial. It feels like we’re on top of the world, now I really can say that I’m the King of the Castle.” I guess that’s what it felt like back then this being the top floor when my father first built the high rise over twenty years ago. We’ve changed a little in the last few years, added an extra ten floors, the top floor being the Penthouse where I live and we added an events room to the ground floor. King Security was started by my father and since Paxton and I took over its grown exponentially. We’ve made investments into other companies but our main focus is still on providing security for almost everything from major banks, to clubs and other businesses, and we also provide personal security not just on home ground but internationally as well. The dream that my father started all those years ago has now grown into a trusted, thriving company which I know he would be proud of.

  When the intercom buzzes on my desk I reluctantly pull myself away from the view and press the button “Yes.” An older female voice breaks the silence through the speaker.

  “Mr. King your brother is here to see you,” my secretary says.

  “Send him in Grace.” But before I even finish my words the large oak door to my office opens and Paxton strides through. dressed in a dark-colored impeccable looking suit with a file in his hand. Walking up to my desk, he drops the file onto it.

  “What the fuck is this?” He points at the file that has now opened and spilled over the large oak wood desk. Moving behind the desk I drop into the leather chair and look down at the paper then back up into the very angry face of my brother.

  “Nice to see you too Paxton, please take a seat.” I gesture towards the other leather chair opposite me. Paxton ignores the invitation to sit, instead shoving one hand into his pants pocket while pushing the other one through his black slick hair, then he starts to slowly pace in front of my desk. For a minute I can picture him as a cartoon character with animated steam coming out of his ears. Looking back down at my desk I try and hide the grin that vision just gave me. I watch as he paces back and forth in front of me for a few minutes until he finally stops, turns and places both palms on the desk.

  “King International Security is one of the largest companies in the country,” he says with strength and dignity.

  “Yes, I know,” I said resting my elbows on the desk.

  “Then why the fuck are you taking private contracts?” He grinds out the words like it’s painful. I knew when he found out he wouldn’t be too happy about my decision. I look down again at the pile of papers that has spilled out in front of me then back up at him.

  “It’s a favor,” I say leaning back into my chair.

  “A
favor? For who?” he sputters out then backs up to sit down in one of the black leather chairs. Rubbing my hand across the stubble of my chin I look at my little brother, my business partner, my best friend and try to explain.

  “Do you remember Steve Peterson the CEO of International Medical Assist?” I ask him, and he nods his head.“Well, he has some civilian medical staff heading out to the military base in Turkmenistan and he contacted me.” Before I can finish Paxton jumps in.

  “Then send someone else Nate, there is no need for you to go, and those medical contracts usually last anywhere from three months to a year. King International Security can't do without you for that long.”

  “No-one ever lasts out the full contract Paxton, it'll be three months at the most”

  Paxton looks down at the floor slowly shaking his head then lets out a slow breath.

  “Nate you need to stop doing this, it's time to stop.”

  “Stop what, Paxton? It's just a job.”

  “That's bull shit and you know it” Paxton hisses out. “Any excuse that gets you back out in the field somewhere and you jump at it. What the fuck are you trying to do Nate? Hope that one day something or someone will take you out? When are you going to stop?”

  Leaning back into the comfort of my chair I look at him and I know he's right but I also know that I need this. I need the rush, the insecurity of the unknown, always having to be alert watching your back, being on guard and always having that risk, that edge, that thin small line between life and death. It's what makes me feel alive and reminds me that I am still human because if I am, then I can feel and I want to feel the pain, I crave it, and I deserve it.