Corps Security in Hope Town: Fighting for Honor (Kindle Worlds)

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Elizabeth Harper. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Corps Security in Hope Town remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Elizabeth Harper, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Fighting for Honor

  By JB Salsbury

  Fighting for Honor

  JB Salsbury

  Copyright © 2017 JB Salsbury

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Edited by Theresa Wegand

  Cover Design by Amanda Simpson at Pixel Mischief Design

  To Natalie Piper

  I couldn’t have done it without you.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Fourteen years ago . . .

  Caleb

  I can hear the laughter from the front porch. It isn’t the funny-ha-ha kind; it’s the kind of sick enjoyment that comes at the expense of someone else. I know instantly those Hope Town boys are up to nothing good.

  Walking to the edge of the twenty-foot deck, I lean to the side to see around the tall maple trees that are staggered between our summer house and the lake. Sure enough, a group of guys are standing at the water’s edge; what they’re doing I can’t tell.

  “Mom!” I look back through the gigantic windows and into the kitchen, where my mom is unloading groceries for the week we’ll be here. “I’m gonna head on down to the water and hang with the guys.”

  “Take your sister,” she calls back to me without taking her eyes off what she’s doing.

  The laughter gets louder from the water, and a sick feeling twists in my gut. “Leah doesn’t want to be around a bunch of high school boys, Mom.” I jump down the four steps that lead to the dirt path before my Mom can force Leah to come with me. “I’ll be back by dinner!”

  She hollers something I don’t quite make out as I jog through the tall trees toward the lake. As I get closer, my Nikes crunching on the gravel, I hear the faint sound of a kitten meowing. I slow my pace when I get to the sand, and once I’m out of the trees, the eyes of the boys I recognize from my summers spent here come to me.

  “Caleb Dean, that you?” Jordan, a summer vacationer like me, takes a few steps toward me.

  “When did you get here?” Roy looks almost offended by my presence, which doesn’t surprise me. He’s a Hope Town local, a little punk who throws his dad’s money around to buy friends.

  I give the guys a chin lift, but my gaze immediately goes to the wet kitten hanging by the scruff of its neck from Roy’s hand. “What’s going on?” I stare at Roy, who, after the last couple of growth spurts, has gotten closer to my height but not close enough to meet me nose-to-nose.

  “Ah, we were just testing a theory.” Perry, Roy’s sidekick since fourth grade, smiles, showcasing a full metal mouth that goes well with his orange hair and freckles. “Turns out cats really do hate water.”

  They all laugh, except I don’t miss the uncomfortable way Jordan shifts on his feet.

  “Things must be boring as hell in Hope Town if y’all are torturing kittens for fun.” I narrow my eyes on Roy.

  He glares back then jerks his head toward the two-story house my family rents every year. “Why don’t you go on back home, mind your own business?”

  “Give me the cat and I will.”

  Jordan’s and Perry’s heads are moving from side to side, watching us, waiting to see who throws the first punch. I hate to start off the last family vacation before I go to college beating the snot out of this guy. It would upset my mom and make my dad worry about pissing off the local townsfolk. But me? A slow grin pulls at my lips. I’d love nothing more than to break Roy Gibson’s nose.

  “This cat?” He holds the animal out over the water that laps around his ankles. “What’re you gonna do if I don’t?”

  “Don’t be stupid, man,” Jordan hisses, his eyes wide. “He’s going to UI on a wrestling scholarship. He’s in the top ten in the country.”

  Perry’s face pales, but he puffs out his chest in mock confidence. “So what?”

  “Stop!” A female voice full of rage and pain rips through the trees.

  We all turn to see a girl stumble through the brush and onto the sand.

  “Put him down!” She’s running so fast that the sand she’s kicking up behind her matches the trail of blond hair that flows in her wake.

  We’re all struck silent for a second or two as she runs, her boobs moving so perfectly with her body that it works like man-hypnosis. I tell myself to look higher, to check out her face and figure out who she is, but my eyes are glued to her blue top with a big yellow Tweety Bird on her chest.

  “Roy Gibson, I swear to the Almighty, if you don’t give me back my kitten, I will . . . I’ll . . .” I’m finally able to pull my gaze from Tweety, blinking away a fog, interested in what this girl will threaten Roy with. Upon looking up, I see the thick-lensed glasses that magnify her blue eyes.

  No shit. “Bug?”

  Her head jerks toward me, and rather than acknowledge me in any way, she just turns her attention back to Roy and shoves her hand out. “Give him back.”

  Roy laughs and shakes his head. “No way, Buggy.” He holds the kitten back over the water. “This is for science.”

  She lunges toward him, but he’s quicker and takes a few steps deeper into the lake. “You’re hurting him.” Her voice is hard, but it carries a hint of worry that I’m sure she’s trying to mask.

  “Nah.” Roy dips the kitten’s back legs in the water, making it squirm and mewl. “He likes swimming.”

  “Just give her the kitten, Roy.” My fists clench at my sides.

  His grin turns sadistic. “Oops.” He drops the cat in the water. “I slipped.”

  I race into the
water and dive both hands in. I find the tiny ball of fur struggling just below the surface. When I pull the animal up, it scratches the shit out of my wrists and forearms.

  “You asshole!” The girl shoves Roy hard.

  He laughs and grabs her hands, pulling her in close so that her boobs are pressed to his chest. “I’m just playing with you, Buggy Girl.”

  She turns her head away from him and yanks on her arms until he lets her go. She rushes to me, and I hand her the dripping wet kitten. Her shirt gets soaked from holding the tiny thing to her chest.

  “Here.” I pull my UI T-shirt over my head and hand it to her so she can wrap it around the animal. Her eyes are focused on the boys who are now halfway down the beach, laughing, probably on their way to swipe some bottles from Roy’s old man’s liquor cabinet. “Come on.” I motion to the dirt path. “I’ll walk you home.”

  Those big eyes are directed at me, and a healthy sprinkling of freckles covers her nose and cheeks. Her lips are full, probably always have been, but it’s been hard to notice anything other than the big clear-framed glasses she’s been wearing since she was a kid.

  Without a word, she starts toward the tree line, and I follow behind her, grateful for the undershirt I have on because disappearing into the woods half naked with a girl could look bad, and in this town, on this beach, the people like to talk.

  I watch her hips swing and take in all the ways her body has changed since the last time I saw her. I’ve been coming to Hope Town for family vacations every summer since I can remember. We used to spend a month, but with my dad’s schedule getting so hectic and me busy with high school wrestling and matches all over the country, we’ve only managed a week for the last few years.

  No matter how long we stayed, Bug was always around, the granddaughter of the Hope Town lunatic they call Colonel Cartwright. Rumor has it he got jacked up in Vietnam and has been arrested several times for ranting nonsensical shit in the streets. He’s known for waving a tattered American flag, and rumor has it he held a gun to a man’s head because he said something unpatriotic.

  They live in a small cabin—more like a shack—on the other side of the road that runs along the lake. The big houses are lakefront; Bug’s house is on the opposite side.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice is so small, and I wonder if I’ve ever really heard her talk before today. She’s one of those quiet types. She’d linger on the outskirts of all the kids playing on the beach or hanging around in town. Never really part of the inner circle.

  “I wasn’t gonna stand by and let them hurt a kitten, Bug—”

  She stops walking, her spine stiff. I pull up beside her, and her mouth is tight like she’s getting ready to say something, but instead she shakes her head and keeps walking.

  I watch her for a few seconds, smiling, wondering what the hell it is about this girl that has me grinning.

  And when the hell did she grow up?

  Her shirt is a little too tight on her full breasts, and it’s short enough to reveal a strip of tan, flat stomach. She has the prettiest fucking belly button. Her pink shorts look about a size too small. Whereas most girls would intentionally dress like this to get a boy’s attention, Bug just looks like she had a major growth spurt and hasn’t gone shopping for clothes that fit her newly developed body.

  “How old are you now?”

  She keeps her head down, her arms wrapped tightly around the kitten bundled in my shirt. “Sixteen.”

  Sixteen. Although her body seems older, her quiet, shy demeanor makes her seem so much younger. “I’m eighteen. I start college in August.”

  “Good for you,” she mumbles, and again I’m fighting a smile.

  We hit the edge of the street, and she looks both ways twice before jogging across it. I walk quickly to keep up. Not that she cares; she’s acting like I don’t exist.

  “So, uh . . . where’d you get the cat?”

  Her brow furrows as if she’s trying to figure out the hidden meaning behind my simple question. “I found him in the wood pile out back.” Her thick Georgia accent makes my blood pump a little harder.

  “Where’s his momma?”

  “He ain’t got a momma.” She takes a sharp left on the dirt path that leads through the pines to her rustic cabin, which looks about 500 years old. With two small windows and a short porch, the whole thing seems to lean a little to the left.

  I pull up short when she stops and whirls on me.

  My lips tick up on the sides.

  Her huge eyes focus on my mouth, and she frowns before using the back of her hand to push her glasses up her nose. “This is my house.”

  “I know.”

  “You can go.”

  “Okay.”

  We continue to stare at each other, and it’s then, standing this close, that I notice she’s tall for a sixteen-year-old girl. I’m six feet; she’s gotta be close to five-seven. All legs.

  “You’re still here.” The wind blows a long strand of her golden hair across her face, but it doesn’t seem to bother her.

  I shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts. “I’m just waiting to make sure you get inside alright.”

  Again with the rapid blinking before she turns and walks away only to stop and come back. “Your shirt.” She tugs at the T-shirt to get it loose from the kitten’s body.

  I still her hand with mine, and damn, she’s soft and so warm. Her gaze lingers on our connection, my big long fingers such a contrast to her small delicate ones. “Keep it. I got more at home.”

  She takes a step back, and I drop my hand to my side.

  “Hey, what’s his name anyway?” I nod to the kitten.

  “His name?” She tucks her chin in as if my question offends her, but she answers anyway. “Ulysses.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you and Ulysses around.”

  She shakes her head then turns and scurries to her cabin.

  I watch her until she’s safely inside, and as I walk back to our rental on the lake, I resolve to see her again over the week we’re here.

  Little did I know I wouldn’t see her again that summer, and that was the last time I’d vacation in Hope Town.

  One

  Present day

  Caleb

  Jet lag is a bitch.

  The clock on the dashboard of the executive car that picked me up from the airport reads ten o’clock at night, but my body says it’s three o’clock in the morning as it’s still on England time.

  The flight was easy enough, but the food they served was minimal for a man with my appetite, so not only am I tired, but I could eat the ass out of a rhino, I’m so fucking starved.

  I stare out the window at the dark Georgia landscape as it flies by, remembering what it felt like to take this same road as a kid in the backseat of my mom’s minivan. I loved spending my summers in Hope Town, and I’m excited to finally go back after all these years away.

  The vibration of my cell in my pocket wakes me up, and I pull out the device and hit accept. “Cam, what’s up?”

  “Caleb. Welcome back to US soil.” His low no-bullshit tone hasn’t changed at all in the few years I’ve been training UFL fighters in England.

  “Feels good to be home. I’m craving some real Mexican food like you would not believe.”

  He grunts. “You get the car I sent okay?”

  “Yep. I’m in the backseat now.”

  “You sure this is what you want to do? You know it’s not too late to change your training plans. Vegas would be happy to have you back.”

  I let my gaze wander to the scenery, the towering pine trees pointing to the full moon. Peaceful. Quiet. A place I can get my head together and focus. “Three weeks until my fight. Hope Town is only thirty minutes from Atlanta; it’s the perfect place to train, Rocky Balboa style.”

  There’s a rumble, Cam’s version of laughter. The UFL Owner Cameron Kyle has the comedic capacity of a gnat. “I had a few adjustments made to the house.”

  “What kind of adjustme
nts?”

  “Nothing big. Had some mats brought in, gear; it’s set up in the garage. We’ve been promoting the shit out of this fight, Caleb. There’s not a street in Georgia that doesn’t have your face on it. You’ve been in England, so you may not know the press frenzy that surrounds Graham Butler, but it’s—”

  “I know. He’s a showboating wannabe gangster. I’ve been watching.”

  “Right. I took some precautions, reached out to a friend of mine who runs a security company in Hope Town.”

  I drop my head back to the seat and scrub my sandpaper eyes. “Don’t need a security guard, Cam.”

  “He hooked up the house with a system. He’ll swing by, show you how it all works.” He huffs out a breath. “I expect you’ll have a few days flyin’ under the radar. Once word spreads you’re there, I don’t want you out of that house without a security detail.”

  “Fucking ridiculous, Cam. What’re you afraid will happen? It’s a professional MMA fight, not an East Coast versus West Coast rap battle.”

  “You want to bitch about my rules, you bring your ass back to Vegas and train here. You choose to do things outside of my control, I will take fucking control, you understand me? You’re representing the UFL, my house. Therefore, you’re my responsibility. You don’t like it, you turn that car around and get back on the fucking plane.”

  Yep, he hasn’t changed a bit. “Fine.”

  “Good. I lined up some extra help around the house with the guy who rented it to me. You shouldn’t have to do anything but train, eat, and sleep.”

  “Take a breath. I know what I need to do, Cam.” Fuck, the guy is anal.

  “Get some sleep, smartass. You’ve got three weeks until you’re up against one of the biggest assholes in the UFL.”

  “Alright—” The line goes dead. “Good-bye to you too, dickhead.” I shove my phone back in my pocket and close my eyes as the car continues to fly down the dark highway.

  I must doze off because I’m jerked awake by a sudden stop. I blink open my eyes and duck to peer out the window.

  Suddenly, I’m fifteen again.

  We’re here.

  My favorite childhood vacation home.