The Courageous Believer (The Unconventional Agent Beaufont Book 8) Read online

  THE COURAGEOUS BELIEVER

  THE UNCONVENTIONAL AGENT BEAUFONT™ BOOK 8

  SARAH NOFFKE

  MICHAEL ANDERLE

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2022 LMBPN Publishing

  Cover by Fantasy Book Design

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  Version 1.00, September 2022

  eBook ISBN: 979-8-88541-834-8

  Print ISBN: 979-8-88541-835-5

  THE COURAGEOUS BELIEVER TEAM

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Veronica Stephan-Miller

  Christopher Gilliard

  Dave Hicks

  Jackey Hankard-Brodie

  Dorothy Lloyd

  Diane L. Smith

  Deb Mader

  Jeff Goode

  Angel LaVey

  If we’ve missed anyone, please let us know!

  Editor

  The Skyfyre Editing Team

  For Martin, my robotic expert and friend. And my second reader on all books. You’re so cool

  — Sarah

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  — Michael

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  The Story Continues

  Sarah’s Author Notes

  Michael’s Author Notes

  Books By Sarah Noffke

  About Sarah

  Books By Michael Anderle

  Connect with The Authors

  CHAPTER ONE

  Zelle Corp, Manhattan, New York, United States

  “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the richest of them all?” Jackson Zelle said, looking into his reflection in the glass door that led to the research and development lab in Zelle Corp.

  He grinned at the disfigured reflection that stared back. Zelle was extra giddy that day, knowing that soon he would be one of the richest men in the world. There was no stopping it. The best part was he’d profit from the demise of love—the most despicable thing in the world.

  People killed for love. It drained money, happiness, and health from the world. Jackson Zelle had seen it happen over and over again throughout his lifetime. He’d witnessed it firsthand during his time as director of finance at the FGA.

  From an early age, people were programmed to care about love over all else, and that money was the root of all evil. It was love, and finally, Jackson Zelle could fix the world by destroying love. Best of all, he’d make more money than God.

  Pushing the door to the lab open, Jackson Zelle commanded the attention of every scientist in the large space. They all looked up, straightening at the sight of him. Mostly because his burned face and many scars always jolted people. Also because he was their feared leader, and for a good reason. Jackson Zelle hadn’t lost everything to lay down and die or crawl back to the impoverished life he had been born into.

  Instead, the man who was totally self-made had figured out exactly how he’d make Zelle Corp the most successful company in the world—using a series of magitech projects that were destined for greatness. It didn’t even matter that the FGA had thwarted many of his efforts as his company launched. That had always been a part of the plan.

  Jackson Zelle knew Agent Paris Beaufont couldn’t resist sticking her nose into everything, making anything connected to love her business. The halfling had tried to stop him, outmaneuvering him at every turn. All of that had been a distraction while Zelle Corp positioned itself for world domination.

  A series of projects would position the company at the very top, and then Jackson Zelle would be ready for his ultimate goal—destroying the FGA. It would take a lot of money. It had already taken a lot of planning. The CEO was so close now.

  “Continue,” Jackson Zelle commanded, looking out over the various workspaces. The company was still growing, and as profits increased, so too would this department space. Soon his main brand would take over its own floor. Until then, it shared the space with the smaller projects meant to fund its development and launch.

  Striding by a group of men wearing white lab coats, Jackson Zelle nodded to his head scientist, Dr. Marty Dupree. The man was tall and overweight, covered in tattoos and with small eyes and entirely too big of a nose for his face. Jackson Zelle was ugly now, after the plane crash and fire, but if he so desired, he could have surgery and fix his face. Dr. Dupree had been born ugly, and there was no fixing him. What he lacked in looks, the scientist made up for with brains.

  “What’s the status of Project X?” Jackson Zelle asked the man, noting the pieces of robotic equipment strewn around the closest workstations. Project X was what they were calling the venture that would take over the world and make an ultimate fortune. Better yet, it would finally end love and all the misery it caused.

  “It’s right on schedule,” Dr. Dupree answered. “Our biggest hurdle is funding, but the development aspect is on point, and I’m hopeful we will have a successful prototype for you soon.”

  “Good,” Jackson Zelle stated sternly, striding on, leaving the scientist and his team to continue their work. He cut his eyes to the many realistic human body parts strewn around on the workstation before turning his focus to the next area, which involved his more immediate project and the one that would fund Project X.

  The other main research and development area was full of computers powered by magitech. A long bed sat next to the main workstation where a test subject lay, wires attached to her head, neck, and chest.

  “How’s it going?” Jackson Zelle asked the scientist in charge of Project Snow White.

  “We’re ready to launch,” Dr. Jessie Raven answered with confidence. He was much shorter than the main scientist but not that much more attractive with his round red nose, receding brown hair, and unkempt beard. He had a forgettable face and a nerdy laugh. “I’ve just completed testing. As you can see, the subject has responded as intended.”

  Jackson Zelle glanced at the woman who was asleep. This was part of the intended outcome. “This occurred after the stimuli were administered?”

  “After twenty minutes. According to our monitoring of the subject’s frequency waves, she’s progressively going into a deeper sleep.”

  “Can she be awoken easily?” Jackson Zelle asked.

  “At this stage, yes,” the scientist answered. “After several sleep sessions, produced by the initial stimuli, she’ll be comatose.”

  “Good,” Jackson Zelle affirmed with mild satisfaction. “You have my permission to take the subject to the fina
l stages to ensure it works.”

  “What then?” Dr. Raven asked.

  “Then, we roll out Project Snow White nationwide,” he answered.

  The scientist drew in a breath. “I understand you intend for this project to be a funding source for Project X, but you understand that sleeping people don’t spend money, right?”

  “I understand that completely. We’re making money on admission, advertising, and membership,” Jackson Zelle explained. “What happens to our brides afterward? Well, I’ll already have their money then. They’ll be one less headache for me and for the men they’ve made miserable. Finish testing and roll this out to the media and events pronto.”

  Jackson Zelle then turned and walked back to his office on the top floor of the skyscraper. It was perfect timing that Paris Beaufont had recently gotten engaged to be married. That had given him the idea for Project Snow White, which would make him a fortune capitalizing on brides obsessed with planning the perfect wedding. He’d ensure the bride-to-be didn’t lose sleep over her wedding. She’d get so much sleep, she’d do little else.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Little Pleasures Farmhouse, Outskirts of Boulder, Colorado, United States

  “Stop yawning and wake up, would you?” Faraday snapped in Paris’ face.

  She lifted her head up, blinking at the little squirrel who had some nerve. Glancing over her shoulder to the bar along the restaurant dining room of the large farmhouse, Paris grinned at her Uncle Clark. “Put squirrel on the menu for tonight?”

  “Stew or kabobs?” he asked, cutting up garnishes for the specialty cocktails for dinner service later.

  Paris liked he hadn’t missed a beat. Her uncle, who was wearing a starched suit under his apron, never missed anything—not even a blond hair out of place. He was the head chef for Little Pleasures, a councilor for the House of Fourteen, and the manager of the Beaufont family.

  She hoped that soon he’d have more of a social life, but Paris wasn’t sure how he could juggle that and everything else he did so expertly well. He’d started dating a mortal who lived at the House of Fourteen since her aunt was a Mortal Seven.

  Apparently, things were going well between the couple, according to Liv, who said Clark was never home anymore and always distracted during council meetings. Paris reasoned he’d spent all of his life studying and working. He deserved to have his head in the clouds for once, and he did seem to be in a good mood lately.

  “If you two are done making threats, I need you to make a decision.” Faraday flicked his tail as he stood on the table in front of several open catalogs.

  Paris winked at her uncle. “Are we done making threats? I hadn’t planned on being done. But I guess...”

  “Well, I’ll circle back to it in just a bit,” Clark replied, heading for the kitchen area. “I need to go and retrieve some more ingredients for prepping.”

  “You know we have employees for that,” Paris called after him.

  “They don’t do it right,” he said over his shoulder, disappearing in the back.

  Paris shook her head. “I swear, that man would do everything himself if he could.”

  Faraday tapped his foot on the table, his paws on his hips. “Stop stalling and make a decision.”

  Paris yawned again, glancing down at the thick catalog. “Why? Why do you care?”

  “Because it’s your wedding,” he began, continuing to tap his foot. “Because Hemingway put me in charge of getting you to make decisions since he’s got to take care of the farm. Oh, and it’s your wedding, once again.”

  Paris sat back in her seat. “It’s his wedding too. Why do I have to do this now? This type of thing isn’t for me.”

  “Most brides want to be in charge of making decisions,” he argued. “You have to pick the colors because that dictates everything. You can’t pick invitations until that’s done. If you don’t pick those out, you can’t invite people. Then no one comes to your wedding.”

  “Perfect!” Paris threw her hands up in the air. “More cake for me.”

  “You can’t pick a cake unless you know the theme and the colors,” Faraday continued, ignoring her.

  Paris rolled her eyes at the rodent. “When did you become such a know-it-all about wedding planning?”

  “I know about many things,” Faraday stated. “This is your only wedding, and I fear if you don’t take it seriously, you’ll regret it. Also…”

  Faraday looked away rather sheepishly.

  Paris arched an eyebrow at him. “What?”

  “Well, it’s nothing.”

  “What, Squirrel? Out with it.”

  He averted his gaze. “I never had a wedding. I never had anyone I wanted to marry. Well, I never really dated, actually.”

  “Which makes it nearly impossible to get hitched,” Paris joked.

  “I get to live vicariously through you now,” he went on. “I mean, it’s not that I wanted to have a wedding, but I want you to have one. I want it to be magical, but that involves making some decisions.”

  Paris pushed the catalog at him. “Then you plan the wedding. Pick your favorite colors. What are they? The color of uranium and cheese?”

  He snickered. “That’s quite accurate, but I can’t do this for you. It’s your wedding. Not mine. I will help you.”

  “Get a wedding planner,” Subfar said from a neighboring table. He’d been so quiet, with pages of newspapers and other notes and books piled high around him, Paris had forgotten he was there. She hadn’t thought he was listening to their silly conversation about wedding colors when he was studying the stock market and funding sources to help her with FGA budget issues.

  “Say what?” Paris asked, directing her attention to the Protector of Wealth. He had stringy black hair like his twin, Subner, but his wasn’t as unkempt. While both men had narrow faces and high cheekbones, Subfar appeared less serious than his brother.

  “A wedding planner,” Subfar said, stretching his arms overhead and yawning like Paris had been doing earlier. “They are people you employ who take care of many of the arrangements for a wedding. I don’t think they normally make personalized decisions for brides, but for a price, I’m sure they will. Like the squirrel said, most brides like to make these decisions.”

  Paris sighed. “I’m not most brides. I want to be married. Who cares about a wedding?”

  “Every woman ever,” Subfar stated. “Much wealth is spent on creating a lavish affair. The wedding industry is big business.”

  Faraday nodded in the elf’s direction. “He would know.”

  “Speaking of business,” Paris said, taking a sip of her coffee. She needed to get to work soon. “Have you found a funding source for me yet?”

  Paris had pretty much promised the Protector of Wealth her firstborn child in exchange for a huge sum of income that would save the FGA from bankruptcy. The contract she signed with Subfar was over a hundred pages long and stipulated everything he must deliver to her and by when and that it was a sustainable way to maintain money for such a length of time.