Authors: Aisha Brooks
ROMANCE: Billion Dollar Question (BWWM Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (African American Alpha Mail Order Bride New Adult) (62 page)
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Table Of Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1: Haunted Mind
Chapter 2: The Softest Touch
Chapter 3: You Are My Escape
Conclusion
Introduction
It had been two years since Eric had woken up in his own bed. His heart raced and his ears strained listening closely for the slightest sound. He knew he was back home on American soil, but his instincts were still in the Middle East. Explosions had filled his dreams and he could still feel their lingering vibrations trembling through his muscular body. He sat up and reached for his boots. They weren't by the bed.
He turned on the lamp and surveyed the room. It looked the same as it had when he lived at home as a teenager. Outdated band posters still lined the walls and his wrestling trophies overtook the room with their metallic gleams. He walked across the room and wrapped his hand around his State Championship trophy. Eric strained his memory struggling hard to remember what that life had been like. Memories came back in flashes, but slipped through his fingers before they could feel normal.
Eric headed into the bathroom. He had showered before going to bed and the hot water beating against his body had been the only thing able to calm his nerves. Even after scrubbing he still felt phantom grit, dirt, and sand on his skin. Every so often he'd catch himself brushing it off. The habit had not gone unnoticed by his brother, Gary.
Eric stepped into the shower and gave into the steam and hot water. It was easy to focus on it and how it pelted against his strong muscular body. In his younger days he would have examined his muscles flexing them in groups imagining just how impressed the ladies would be when he took his shirt off at a pool party. Now they were just proof that he had survived the worst and served his country. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered losing his virginity in this very shower with his high school girlfriend Sherri while his parents were out of town. Now almost ten years later Sherri was married to a banker and had two kids of her own.
He looked down at his flaccid member and tried to remember the last time it had been something more than a hunk of flesh to tuck away into his underwear before heading out into enemy territory. There had been prostitutes that liked to gather and tempt and tease the soldiers outside of the base. Some of the guys, even the married ones, gave into the desperation war was known to breed, but Eric had avoided them.
At the time he had planned to find a good woman and settle down into a quiet and happy marriage, it was when he came home. It wouldn't have served his purposes to bring back one of the many venereal diseases that ran rampant through the prostitute circles. So he had learned to suppress the urges that came so naturally to any man. Alone in the shower he began to wonder if he had left those urges behind in the sand.
Not that he had any plans of marriage. What could he offer a woman now? Waking up nightly because he heard a noise or had a nightmare? He wasn't a child and he couldn't ask anyone to put up with that. Hell, if it wasn't happening to him he wouldn't have put up with it.
A small sound caught his attention and he squatted down holding onto the side of the tub waiting for impact. A second later, he realized it was only Bubbles his mother's Golden Retriever pawing at the front door. Eric rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and turned the water off. He dried and dressed quickly.
“You're a civilian now, Hill,” he said addressing his reflection in the mirror. “This is your life now. Civilian clothes, civilian hours, but the good news is you also get civilian food.”
Steam from his shower followed him out of the bathroom. Bubbles greeted him and together they walked to the front door. He put his hand on the knob, but hesitated a second listening to the world beyond the door.
“I'm starting to think I brought the war home with me, girl,” he said patting Bubbles shaggy head and opening the door.
Chapter 1: Haunted Mind
This time Eric woke to the smell of eggs and bacon. It was a welcome change to the heart pounding explosions he had managed to live with while on his military tour. He could hear his mother puttering around in the kitchen and his father turning the pages of the news paper. He had never changed out of his clothes so after taking a few minutes to mentally prepare for his first official morning out of uniform, Eric headed into the kitchen.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” his mom said turning to smile at him.
“Mornin',” he yawned joining his father at the table.
“I know it's your first day back and all,” his mom said as Gary walked into the kitchen.
His younger brother was a senior in high school planning to enlist after graduation. He studied his brother's carefree morning attitude trying to remember when he himself last walked into a room without checking for unseen threats. Too long was the only answer he could come up with.
“Eric, honey?” his mom said.
She touched his shoulder gently and he startled barely stopping his arm from completely the defending blow.
“Sorry, I think I zoned out,” he muttered.
“As I was saying,” she said nervously, “I know you just got home and all, but our neighbor is a real estate agent and I asked her to take you around and show you some houses today.”
“Are you planning to rent out my room or something?” Eric tried to joke.
“No, we just thought you'd like you're own place and stuff, honey.”
An hour later, Eric had taken another shower and was waiting on the real estate agent. He hadn't planned on moving and was confused by his parents' sudden need to get him out of the house, but it was easier to go than to argue. His mother had sounded so damn cheerful about it.
A red haired woman was cutting from the neighbor's lawn into theirs. Eric titled his head as he watched her walk with long confident strides. Her hips swayed slightly as she walked and he found himself watching intensely.
“She really fills out those jeans,” he thought to himself.
He opened the door before she could ring the bell. Face to face the red head was more attractive than she had been from afar. Her long red curls cascaded over her shoulders and framed her heart shaped faced. She had vivid blue eyes and a friendly smile. His eyes lingered down her body over her pert breast and perfect hips a little longer than they should have. She gave him a knowing smile and he quickly returned his gaze to her face.
“Hi, I'm Celeste,” she grinned and extended her hand.
“Eric,” he said barely remembering not to give his official military introduction.
“It's nice to meet you. You're mom said you were interested in seeing some houses?”
As she spoke, her eyes lingered over his body before returning to his dimpled smile. The gesture wasn't subtle and Eric almost took a step back. Women had checked him over before, but mostly from a distance and never so directly. Something stirred deep within him, but as he had learned to do over the years he pressed it back down into the back of his mind. He didn't have time for such notions.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Eric laughed.
He was thankful that Celeste wasn't as talkative as most civilians seemed to be. Since coming home, he hadn't been able to escape the endless mindless chatter everyone seemed to engage in. The quiet offered a different enemy. If left to his own thoughts for too long, they always returned to the Middle East.
He combated the unwanted thoughts by watching Celeste drive. She was concentrated on the road and the cars around her. Her body moved flawlessly shifting gears, turning the wheels, and tapping the gas and break.
The first two houses they had toured were nice, but too big for Eric's taste. They looked like houses that large families should be buying not single man with no marriage prospects in the near future.
“I think that's enough for today,” Eric said as the car pulled out of the second driveway. “I think I'm ready to go home.”
“Maybe one more?”
“Thank you,” Eric said keeping his voice stoic. “I really appreciate you taking the time to show me houses, but I don't think I'm up for anymore today.”
“Okay,” she nodded, “shall we get lunch then?”
“I'm ready to go home.”
“Okay,” she smiled, “it's time for my back up plan. Here's how it is, solider. Your family is planning a big welcome home party and they asked me to keep you out of the house until three. That means we still have three hours to kill.”
“So that's why she insisted I come out today. I thought she was trying to kick me,” Eric laughed. “Then I saw you and thought she was trying to play matchmaker.”
“Why's that?”
“Mom knows how much I love red heads.”
For a moment, tension filled the car. It was an unfamiliar feeling to Eric and it took him a moment to realize that it was sexual tension tugging at his muscles and rubbing against his senses.
“Okay, solider, so what do you want to do until three?”
“Honestly? Take a nap,” he laughed.
“We'll go back to my place. We can go through the back door and you can nap on the sofa until its time for your party.”
Thirty minutes later, Eric found himself laying on Celeste's sofa. Before the war, he'd never taken her up on the offer. In the Middle East, he learned he could sleep almost anywhere if he was tired enough and the ongoing war efforts and threats were enough to keep any man exhausted. Celeste had made herself scarce and Eric appreciated the privacy and the thought of not needing an armed guard while he dozed.
For awhile, he lay awake staring at the ceiling. His mind would wander to the Middle East and he'd have to force himself back to the present. As he drifted off to sleep, a feeling of normalcy cloaked him as he tried to imagine what Celeste's red curls might smell like.
His dreams carried him away back to the Middle East. A sandstorm was moving over the small base he was stationed at. Earlier in the day, a call had come in about suspicious activity in the area. It included no further information and he and his comrades were all on guard. Within hours, they would be on the road moving supplies to their next destination: the men on the front line.
Eric had taken the job of supply transport to ease his mother's worries about his safety. He never brought it up in letters, but from what he had heard, supply transport had seen more action than some of the front lines had. The enemy knew that without the supplies the army would be crippled.
The men piled into the truck. He rode shotgun with his weapon at the ready. Eric sat with both hands tightly wound around the weapon to hide the fact his fingers were trembling. His eyes and ears strained seeking out signs of danger and hoping not to be the one who let out a false cry. Stopping the vehicle if it wasn't necessary could mean death for them all.
“We're being followed,” the driver said quietly. “They were watching us back at the camp too. Keep your gun at the ready. I'm changing course. They haven't made their move yet and they could be pushing us into a trap. My daughter turns six today. I want to live to see her turn seven.”
Eric swallowed hard as the truck turned off the specified path. As its engine rumbled, all of his senses strained to figure out where the threat was. His gut was telling him something was deathly wrong, but his other senses couldn't locate it. Then the world went silent and the truck turned on its front. Eric looked over his shoulder to see that the men that had been sitting in the back of the truck were nothing but charred flesh.
Ahead of them, a woman was running away with her two small children. Men with guns appeared their faces wrapped with muslin cloth to keep the dirt and grit out of their eyes. When he looked back to the woman she was no longer wrapped in burqa but had long flowing red curls.
“Celeste!” he cried out as the men took her and the children down in a rain of bullets.