Bought His Life Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Bought His Life Copyright © 2014 Aleka Nakis and Tia Fanning

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Authors

  Want to read more from Demi Alex and Tia Fanning?

  Also Available from Resplendence Publishing

  www.ResplendencePublishing.com

  Bought His Life

  By Aleka Nakis and Tia Fanning

  Resplendence Publishing

  R·>♦<·P

  www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Gems of Romantic Fiction

  Bought His Life

  Copyright © 2014 Aleka Nakis and Tia Fanning

  Edited by Delaney Sullivan and Jason Huffman

  Cover Art by Les Byerley

  Published by Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  1093 A1A Beach Blvd, #146

  St. Augustine, FL 32080

  Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-786-5

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Electronic Release: July 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Captain Jack Carter and OSS Agent Lawson Grey are having a rough morning. Their mission was fairly straightforward: fly back in time and assassinate Adolph Hitler. However, their plane catches on fire, their co-pilot is lost, and instead of going backwards in time, Jack and Lawson find themselves thrust forward and stranded in the year 2015. And just when they thought it couldn't get any worse, they helplessly watch as two women purchase the last of their personal possessions as left behind in 1944.

  Emily and Kimberliegh Mitchell are having a great morning. An estate sale of a deceased Navy admiral allows the women to find and purchase some interesting WWII era memorabilia. However, unbeknownst to the ladies, they have just bought the personal possessions of two time-stranded men...the only link to these men's past lives, their secret mission, and the only material left to prove their identities. But retrieving these important items from Emily and Kimber is a mission Jack and Lawson are determined to complete.

  To Judi McCoy and Teannette Major.

  Thank you for the mentorship and the friendship.

  Always.

  Chapter One

  Bermuda Triangle, 1944

  Captain Jack Carter sucked in a cold breath and squinted against the growing dark. Storm clouds suffocated his plane, and the visual elements hindered any attempt at true navigation. He called to his copilot for readings when a series of jerky ticks in the altitude gauge flashed in his peripheral vision.

  “We’re losing altitude! Forty-four hundred! Forty-three!” co-pilot John Kelsey Jones shouted over the sound of rushing air and groaning metal. “Both compasses are gone. The instruments are spinning like mad.”

  “Spot the tunnel,” Jack instructed. “We need to enter that damn tunnel.”

  “No tunnel in sight,” OSS Agent Lawson Grey announced. “We’re being swallowed by—”

  The navigational panel gave a loud pop. Sparks erupted, and the indicator needles, those that still moved, spun erratically.

  “The dials are gone, sir.” Jones waved his hand in the air to clear the smoke. “Fuel, oil, compasses…everything. The readings are off the charts!”

  “Hang on, everybody! Got to keep her nose up!” Jack tugged on the control column, hoping to buy enough time for his crew to get clear before the inevitable disaster. “Grey? Analysis?”

  Grey hissed out a breath. “No idea! The damn plane has a mind of her own, and so do these blasted instruments—shit! They’re burning up!”

  Jack hunched over the panel, flicked a few more switches and shook his head. “Get out of here. Both of you. That’s an order.”

  Jones caught the chute Grey tossed at him and nodded for the agent to throw the next one.

  “Go,” Jack ordered.

  The copilot lunged back into the cockpit and shoved the second parachute in Jack’s hands.

  “Put it on, sir.”

  Jack tossed it aside, attempting to avoid unnecessary contact with the sparks shooting off the panel. “Get out of here, son. I’ll hold her steady as long as I can.”

  “Negative, sir.” The young flyer grabbed Jack’s shoulder. “We went into this together, we’re going out together.”

  Glaring, Jack ground out a curse. “Let it go, boy. Save yourself. Complete the mission.”

  “Sorry, sir, no can do.” John Kelsey Jones stood his ground in the havoc of the flight’s failure. “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “He’s right, Captain,” Grey yelled over the clatter. “It’s all of us or none of us.”

  Jack reached for the pocket watch that had become the symbol of their flight—their lucky charm—but his fingers met empty space. They hadn’t been allowed to bring personal possessions on the mission.

  Could use some of that luck, Jack thought.

  Jones nodded to Grey, and Jack had no choice but to allow his crew to haul him out of the command seat. Slipping and sliding, the men dragged him up the steep grade to the exit, then unsealed the door. Wind whipped through the aircraft. The cockpit ignited in flames.

  Sticking out his head, Jack immediately ducked back inside and made the sign of the cross. They were over water, and from what Jack could tell through the thick smoke, the ditch kit was now on fire with the rest of their supplies.

  Jack locked gazes with his men. “Just like in training,” he barked, shrugging into a parachute. “Jones, you first.”

  The young officer gave a thumbs-up and jumped.

  Jack gestured at the OSS agent. “You’re next.”

  Grey suddenly clasped Jack’s forearm and propelled them both out the exit a split second before a burst of heat and flame erupted from the cockpit and shot past their backs.

  Time seemed to slow as they fell through the dawning sky. Fighting the wind pasting his skin against his bones, Jack lifted his hand and tugged the chest cord. The chute deployed.

  A roaring filled his ears. The force of the blast rocked him. The plane disappeared in an exploding ball of flame and smoke.

  Jack struck water and managed a last breath before tasting the salt on his lips. Immersed in wet darkness, he sunk into the silent depths of the ocean. His survival training kicked in. He found the knife hanging from his belt, then cut the strings on his chute. He kicked off his shoes and followed the bubbles of his exhaling breath.

  Breaking the surface, he treaded water in the shock waves of the disintegrating plane. Gazing to his right, he saw Grey pointing toward a series of lights in the
distance. He focused on the line of illuminations and swam.

  Jack wasn’t sure how long or how far they swam, but by the time his toes met solid ground, his shoulders ached with the need to finish the job. The men stumbled in the surf, dragging themselves to safety by their hands and knees. Gasping for air, Jack stared at Grey in silence and knew their thoughts were identical.

  They’d failed.

  They hadn’t traveled back through time and assassinated the most heinous threat to the free world—Adolph Hitler.

  Jack searched the water for Jones, but couldn’t find him. Jones was the strongest swimmer amongst them. He figured the copilot had swum farther down the shoreline. They’d probably spot the young man on the beach when the light was better.

  Jack fell on his back beside the agent. “We’ll wait here for Jones.”

  Grey nodded, his eyes shutting.

  Time passed and the sun rose, revealing a massive bridge stretching across the horizon, but Jones was still nowhere to be seen.

  “Jones,” Jack called. “Jones, where the hell are you?”

  Grey sat up and drew his legs through the sand. “He made it. The kid swims like a fish.”

  Jack was the kind of commander that sensed his crew. He didn’t need to see or hear them to know their location, but he didn’t sense Jones on the beach. Crossing his arms over his chest, he surveyed the sand, the small group of men camping at the edge of the lush vegetation running along the strip, and once again the blue waters.

  “He’s not here.”

  “We’ll find him,” Grey said, but his slumped stature wasn’t too convincing. “We need to figure out where we are, and then we’ll know where to search.”

  “I should have rejected him.”

  “Jones was the best qualified man for the job,” Grey insisted.

  “He’s fresh out of flight school. Doesn’t matter that he’s more qualified. There were older men up for the position.” Jack shook his head in disgust. He was the captain. He was responsible. “Where the hell are we?”

  “Sand, palm tree, lots of green brush,” Grey said. “I’d guess a tropical island. Almost as rugged as Florida.”

  “You recognize that bridge?” Jack pointed at the span, hoping his initial impression was correct.

  The special agent coughed and cleared his throat, following Jack’s line of sight. “Looks familiar, but I’m not sure.”

  “We’re not off Florida. We’re in the Florida Keys. About twenty miles south of Marathon,” Jack muttered. “Hell, we didn’t even get through the portal before we lost the plane.”

  Grey rolled to his side and pushed himself up. “Better the triangle spit us out here than land belly up in the damn Rhine. And better the ocean claim the debris than the damn Germans.” He climbed to his feet and dusted his knees. “Now the question is where do we start looking for Jones? And how do we get to a base twenty miles away from here?”

  “What if Jones hasn’t surfaced?” Jack asked.

  “He must have. Like I said, the boy swims like a fish.” Grey fell silent, running his hand through his hair as he scanned the small stretch of sand. “That’s it!”

  “What is it?”

  “Remember the admiral’s aide, Lt. Jensen? If we’re correct about that bridge, he has a house in this area, less than an hour’s stroll from here. I’ll bet that the kid swam ashore well before us and is already at the lieutenant’s home. Let’s get going.”

  Jack shook his head. “No, we need transportation. We ditched our shoes. I’m not looking to walk and jeopardize anyone’s ability to complete the mission if we still have the chance.” It was bad enough returning to the big brass a failure. Failures with blisters on the bottoms of their feet, most importantly failures missing one of their crew, would be the ultimate humiliation. Worse, what if there was still a way to accomplish their goal? Why put it at risk?

  “Where you guys from?” called someone from a distance.

  “What do we have here?” Grey made his way toward a young man standing in front of a dying fire.

  “Hey, dude, you guys raft refugees?” the stranger hollered.

  Jack trudged after his crewmember. Stopping when they reached the campsite, he appraised the collection of gear scattered across the sand. Beside the scowling young man, little more than a boy, three campers snored soundly amid an area littered with food wrappers and empty liquor bottles. A fancy MB parked about twenty feet away beckoned like a rescue beacon. Not the typical military vehicle, but it would have to do.

  “Morning, I’m Captain Jack Carter and this OSS Agent Lawson Grey.” Jack extended a hand. “We’re on an official mission and need the use of your vehicle. You can claim it at the base later today.”

  “What? Are you fucking nuts?” Ignoring the handshake, the scraggly kid scanned the ground for backup, paling when he realized his friends continued to sleep. “Fuck.”

  “The keys,” Grey demanded. “Now.”

  “This sucks, dude.” The bewildered young man motioned with his head to an army style bag near the fire. When Lawson moved toward the pack, the kid groaned. “Oh, come on. You’re not really going to carjack me, are you?”

  “If it wasn’t necessary, we wouldn’t borrow the vehicle.” Along with the keys, Grey pulled out a wad of bills from the sack and handed the booty to Jack.

  “Hey, that’s mine!” The kid lunged toward the cash.

  Grey caught the boy’s arm and brought him to his knees before he could reach the captain. Red faced, the kid placed a hand over his wrist and squirmed.

  “Let go, man!”

  “Did you steal this money?” Jack demanded. The bills were too large in denomination for a mere kid to be carrying on hand unless he was up to no good.

  “Could be counterfeit,” Grey offered, seemingly perplexed as well.

  “Not fake! We won it—honestly, fair and square.”

  Lawson wrenched the kid’s arm behind his back until he squealed.

  “Come on, dude! That fucking hurts!”

  “Then talk, and make it the truth.”

  “Okay! Okay! They were too stupid to notice the game was rigged.”

  Jack stepped in front of the lanky kid and asked for his name. When the boy didn’t answer, Grey gave his arm another painful twist.

  “Josh, my name is Josh.”

  Another twist magically produced a more honest explanation of how Joshua and the snoring quartet obtained the cash.

  “Joshua, if I understand you correctly,” Jack said in a formal tone, “you and these sleeping beauties took advantage of some unsuspecting tourists in a friendly poker game, and you only cheated a little to win their money.”

  “Yeah, man,” Josh answered.

  “Yes, sir,” Grey corrected.

  “Yes, sir,” the kid rushed. “But we didn’t mean anything by it. We were just fooling around. We don’t want any trouble.”

  “You’re not in trouble yet, but you will be if you hinder us in the performance of our duty. When your buddies wake up, hightail your butts to the naval station and ask for Lt. Jensen. He’ll release your vehicle and decide what to do about the cash.”

  Grey let the boy go and started toward the MB. Seconds later, the kid tried to grab him from behind. The agent swung around and landed a hard right to Josh’s jaw. Shaking his fist, he grinned at his captain.

  “I really hated to do that, but damn, it felt good.”

  “Youngsters,” Jack said, shaking his head.

  Jack examined the clothes strewn in piles on the sand. Picking out a few items, he stepped from his wet pants and slipped into the dry clothing, indicating for Lawson to follow suit.

  “These will do. Take what you need, shoes too. They’re better equipped to walk than we are.” Making his way to the vehicle, Jack opened the driver’s door, gazed at the interior, and let out a low whistle. “This looks like a damn cockpit. How did the kid get one of these?”

  “I figure he conned it from someone in a different game.” Grey climbed into the
passenger side, running his hand over the seat. “I think this is real leather.” He peered at the dials on the dashboard. “This thing’s got gauges we could have used on our mission.”

  Jack gazed at the steering wheel, then the gearshift on the floor beside him. “The thing’s got five gears. Hang on while I see how she flies.” He shifted in his seat, stuck the key in the ignition and revved the engine. “Tell me which way to go.”

  Grey searched at his feet, obviously hoping to find a map. Instead, he picked up a newspaper and fell eerily silent.

  “What is it?” Jack asked.

  “I think you’d better take a look at this.”

  Jack’s eyes locked on the headline and lead picture, then followed Grey’s finger to the date. “Not only color, but a few things we were not expecting. Since when did we start exploring outer space?”

  “Looks as if we were more successful in our travels than we thought,” Grey said. “Time travel is possible. And according to USA Today, it’s November 11th, 2015.”

  Chapter Two

  “Being stuck in the year 2015 doesn’t bother me one bit,” OSS Agent Lawson Emanuel Grey announced, grasping the handhold above the passenger door as the fancy vehicle jerked to the left in order to avoid a truck entering the road. If anything, Lawson was relieved that his old life was over.

  Lawson actually relaxed and took in the sights, relishing the sense of freedom that was finally his—easy to do since freedom still belonged to the good old USA.

  “America won the Second World War without us. Our failure to fly through the Bermuda Triangle and back in time to assassinate fucking Hitler at the Olympic Games doesn’t mean German boots stomp over US soil. The war is over. We won.”

  “We’ll be briefed on the base.” Jack narrowly missed a sleek red vehicle that looked like it had just arrived from Mars. Curves and lines, like a woman’s hips, the low-to-the-ground coupe whizzed by them as if rushing to fucking orgasm.

  “Captain, USA Today confirms it. America is still America.” He turned a page and skimmed the articles. “And there are Jews writing for the publication. Even female Jews.” He rattled off the names of the authors, and Jack’s shoulders lowered a few inches in obvious relief.