Blue Eyed Devils Collection Read online

  BLUE EYED DEVILS

  BOXSET

  BY

  PAULA RIDGE

  Copyright © 2020 by Paula Ridge

  All rights reserved

  Blue Eyed Devils Boxset is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  JAKE

  Ch 1 - Chloe

  Ch 2 – Jake

  Ch 3 – Chloe

  Ch 4 – Jake

  Ch 5 - Chloe

  Ch 6 - Jake

  Ch 7 - Chloe

  Epilogue - Chloe

  SHANE

  Ch 1 – Amber

  Ch 2 – Shane

  Ch 3 – Amber

  Ch 4 – Shane

  Ch 5 – Amber

  Ch-6 - Shane

  Ch-7 - Amber

  Epilogue - Shane

  ZAC

  Ch 1 – Emma

  Ch 2 –Zac

  Ch 3 – Emma

  Ch 4 – Zac

  Ch 5 – Emma

  Epilogue - Zac

  GAGE

  Ch 1 – April

  Ch 2 – Gage

  Ch 3 – April

  Ch 4 – Gage

  Ch 5 – April

  Ch 6 – Gage

  Epilogue – April

  ALEX

  Ch 1 – Melanie

  Ch 2 –Alex

  Ch 3 – Melanie

  Ch 4 – Alex

  Ch 5 – Melanie

  Ch 6 – Alex

  Epilogue – Melanie

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  About the Author

  JAKE

  BLUE EYED DEVILS

  BOOK 1

  Ch 1 - Chloe

  “I just want to feel like I’m making a difference, you know what I mean?” I throw out as Amber and I walk down the beach path. “That’s why I cut my hours at the company way back; it was suffocating me.”

  “Yeah, I think I’m in the same boat” Amber replies.

  “I want to leave my dead-end job altogether, but I need the money to pay the bills,” I continue. “It’s mostly grunt work involving numbers, but I want a purpose and the chance to leave this world better than I found it.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, I work my fingers to the bone and don’t feel like I’m going anywhere,” answers Amber.

  The wind is blowing from the east and the leaves are bending to Mother Nature’s will. The colors of the rainbow can be seen through the fall foliage. It’s sad, but a lot of people take things like these for granted. They get caught in the trap of social media and climbing the corporate ladder. Their phones are glued to them all the time and they can’t bring themselves to step out of their comfort zones for five seconds to finally breathe.

  The sound of water rushing nearby provides this serene atmosphere. The mornings here are the best; there aren’t too many people around to interrupt the peaceful beauty and you can actually hear yourself think and relax. This feeling of complete bliss is lost on most because they are caught up in the rat race and can’t break themselves free.

  As we stroll down the beach, it hits us just how beautiful the hint of sunrise over the horizon really is.

  “On your left,” a sexy baritone voice announces in a low whisper.

  We turn and notice a large jogger who slows down to try and get around us.

  He and I almost bump into each other, but I don’t think I would have complained if we did.

  He slowly gets past me, wearing a blue pair of shorts, mumbling something underneath his breath. His hair is military cut, but his face betrays his strict discipline with a 5:00 shadow. I can’t stop staring at his mesmerizing blue eyes through the mirrored lenses of my sunglasses.

  The man takes my breath away, sending this quiver of desire down my spine. It’s been so long since I felt the touch of a man, and he looks like one who knows the territory and what it would take to satisfy me. Damn, he sure looks fine with his muscles rippling and the top of his meaty chest glistening with sweat.

  I hear someone snapping their fingers. “Hello! Earth to Chloe!” exclaims Amber, trying to get my attention.

  “Oh crap, sorry about that.” I’m a little embarrassed, but I think she understands.

  “I have to get going soon, are you going to be at the soup kitchen later?” asks Amber.

  We met there some time ago. I try to volunteer there three times a week, if time permits. To give back makes me feel whole and it takes very little effort to put a smile on my face to lift their spirits.

  “I am going to try, but I do have to catch up on some things I have been putting off,” I answer.

  “Me too, hopefully I’ll see you later.”

  Amber is a workaholic and, unfortunately, was finding comfort in drinking with her friends until she couldn’t stop. Her life was unraveling. Work performance was suffering, and her relationship collapsed. She was becoming a complete mess until she decided, like me, to take a step back and volunteer. That is why we became such good friends in a very short time.

  Her bicycle is here, and she has a ten-minute journey to get to work. She wants to trade in corporate America for something simple, without all the headaches, but finds it hard to give up the comfort of the pay - just like me. I’m proud to call her my friend and we hope we both can find what we are looking for.

  I remember being one of the sheep, never able to slow down, thinking that I had to get that piece of cheese before everybody else. The metaphor isn’t lost on me when I sit in my bubble of quiet contemplation in my office, with my eyes closed, dreaming about cutting the cord. It will come in its own time. There’s no rush.

  Miami has tons of opportunity and I will find the right one for me. I love being in this vibrant city. This little piece of paradise I live in is transitioning and improving. It’s not great yet, but, being by the beach with endless sun and the low price was too good to pass up, even with the incessant honking and sirens at night.

  Giving back to this wonderful area has become my purpose in life. It does come with some problems, including those that think I am a pushover.

  I stretch my limbs with my long, cascading, blond hair just brushing the small of my back. The natural scents of jasmine and honeysuckle are in my hair to give it that lustrous all-natural shine. I decide to stop and take in the whole reason for living here.

  My hands are in my pockets and I kick off my shoes before bending over to retrieve them. My toes are in the warm sand and I smile with the sun beaming down from above. There is a nice breeze coming off the ocean with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

  Suddenly, I hear heavy breathing and I’m about to turn around until I feel something nudging against my ribs. I stop short, feeling that cold and impersonal piece of hardware sending a profound message of danger. My breath gets caught in my throat and I can barely speak above a tiny squeak.

  “Don’t do anything stupid. I want that necklace and anything else you have. Don’t even think about screaming or it will be the last thing you ever do. You stand there behind the counter ladling out what you think is hope when there is only despair around you. Sometimes, it’s not good to offer a hand to a starving dog,” he says with the sound of this very loud click, making my legs almost collapse out from underneath me.

  I find a few dollars, but it is nothing more than loose change I found on the beach. The necklace is heart-shaped with a picture of my family inside. They keep me grounded. He tries reaching around my neck to grab the necklace, but I instinctively grab his wrist without thinking about what I’m doing. He spins
me around, breaking the chain and sending the locket to the sand. I fall to my knees with my sunglasses tumbling off my face.

  I’m staring down the barrel of a gun. His hand is on the trigger and he’s coming down from a very bad high. That finger is shaking and there is no doubt, in his current state of mind, that he is unreachable with my words.

  I can’t comprehend what is happening. I’m going to die, so I close my eyes, not wanting to see it coming...

  Ch 2 – Jake

  The morning sun is a welcome sight and I jog briskly down the beach. It’s nice to be somewhere peaceful without having to look over my shoulder. I still do it every now and then, though.

  I’m glad my best friend, Shane, is allowing me to rent a space above his garage. I can’t ask for anything more. I’m steps from the beach and five minutes to a makeshift airport to fly out at a moment’s notice. I know the call will come, so I take advantage of the quiet before the storm.

  I stop my jog to sit and watch the sunrise. I don’t get a chance to do it much, so I might as well take advantage of it. The tranquility of the silence is a stark contrast to most of my adult life. I struggle to my feet with sand in my clothing, trying to shake it out, and stumble on my way again.

  Even in a nice place like this, I still wrestle with the memories of my past. Coming home to less than a hero’s welcome has me looking at things differently. I can’t sleep in a bed of comfort when my brothers are neck-deep in some third-world catastrophe.

  My room isn’t much more than a closet with a small kitchenette and a bathroom. I have a bedroom and a living room in the same place, and I found a Murphy bed for a song at an auction.

  I’m working in private security detail, and I’m home from Saudi Arabia after protecting the interests of an oil magnate with less than savory business practices. He has a tendency to make enemies and I am there in between him and those that want to do him harm. He is an important asset in keeping the peace in the Middle East for the US, so my team and I make sure he stays alive.

  I can still do my job and concentrate on the task at hand, even though I disapprove of the way he conducts himself.

  I love these moments when my time isn’t being dictated by someone else. Ever since I enlisted at 18, my days have all been planned out for me, with little time left for anything else. Being a third-generation soldier, I knew what I was getting into, and my brothers in arms have become my second family.

  This is my furlough, a few weeks to decompress before being commissioned on another assignment. I know the politics and how to circumvent certain things to get my job done as efficiently as possible.

  “On your left,” I warn a couple women coming up on the path. I slow down to side-step a woman and she smells divine. I don’t even realize I’m talking underneath my breath until after I get by them. I’m most likely sounding like a crazy person, one step away from being institutionalized in a padded cell, rocking back and forth in the fetal position.

  I continue on my way until I spot something out of my peripheral vision. This man, straggly and looking out of place, is making my danger radar go off. He’s hunting for prey at this early hour and I know the women I just passed are vulnerable. I have a decision to make, but it’s easy one for me, since I have this penchant for rescuing people in distress.

  I halt my jogging, turn back in the other direction and keep a close watch on this guy.

  I notice that the same nice smelling woman is now walking by herself. She doesn’t seem to have a care in the world with her face lifted to the sun. I have a bit of jealousy, seeing how the worries of her day are being washed away by the sound of the ocean. I could use that kind of unique treatment to ward off the demons trying to grab me by the throat every night. I didn’t notice the first time I passed, but she has some delicious curves. Not like those beanpoles I usually see strutting all over this beach. She is absolutely stunning with this innocence I find hard to resist.

  The man decides to press his luck with her. I’m too far away to prevent the attack from starting, but I’m quickly advancing with every step. My head is on a swivel to see if he has any friends backing him up, but there doesn’t seem to be a posse.

  I see him reach for her necklace and she doesn’t take kindly to him breaching her inner sanctum. She spins to face him with the necklace breaking in the scuffle. It is easy to recognize that he is strung out on some very powerful narcotic. He is tweaking something bad and the gun in his hand proves to be the equalizer, freezing her in her tracks.

  There is no time for finesse, and I have to make a move before it’s too late.

  I increase my speed down the beach, pumping my legs and breathing heavily. Everything is moving in slow motion and I can hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. This is being combat-ready, and he suddenly starts to turn to face me only to receive a deadly palm strike to his wrist.

  I know from personal experience this will numb his fingers and the gun drops to the sand, no longer a threat. He slashes out with a knife, and I feel the blade bite into the skin of my arm. I’m in the zone and going through the motions burned into me during basic training. One more move and he will be silenced forever, but I don’t get a chance to finish what I started.

  A delicate feminine touch on my shoulder makes me turn slightly to the side to see her begging me not to do it with her stunning emerald eyes, without saying a word.

  The man runs off.

  I can’t believe how she is showing compassion to the person who was just about to kill her for a few measly dollars and a necklace that probably didn’t cost much. It probably has more sentimental value than anything else.

  “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should,” she utters with her hands outstretched.

  My god she is breathtaking, inside and out. I want to say something, but I have become speechless. Her sexy figure makes me yearn for just one touch. Her hair shimmers in the sun to make her seem out of my league. I can’t help but look at her with more than a little interest.

  “You seem like a nice person, but sometimes, a kind word isn’t going to be enough. It would be best for you to know how to defend yourself. I would be more than happy to show you a few simple maneuvers,” I mention with her staring at a spot on my shirt, and then I realize there is blood dripping from my fingertips.

  I mistakenly think it is from the guy who assaulted her, but somehow, he got in a lucky shot with the blade when my adrenaline was rushing through my veins, too fast for me to notice.

  It is the best feeling in the world, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but coming down from this ultimate rush is going to be a crash of biblical proportions.

  “I’m guessing you don’t want me to call the cops for obvious reasons. I have a first-aid kit back at my place. It might need a couple of stitches, but I won’t know until I get a better look at the wound. You will have to...ahem...take your tank top off for me. I might even have some medication to ward off infections,” she replies, and I can hear in her voice how it cracks, which only makes me smile.

  I wonder if my shirt is the only thing she wants me to take off.

  “I’ve been through worse. This is nothing more than a paper cut,” I mock flippantly, trying to inject a bit of humor into an otherwise tension-filled moment.

  She crosses her arms over her chest and stares me down with daggers, “There’s no reason to be a big tough guy; that kind of callous attitude isn’t going to cut it with me. Get your head out of your ass and follow me,” she commands, and it brings to mind my formal training in the military from running through drills until it was a reflex.

  I gladly follow her shapely form as it glides from side to side.

  I’m quite a few inches taller than she is and I can easily envision myself succumbing to her natural and striking beauty. I don’t want to admit how long it has been since I have been in the arms of a woman. I can’t remember the exact date in question, but I do recall her Asian features looking up at me from the pillow.

  “I can take my sh
irt off for you. That isn’t a problem. Are you sure you can keep it professional?” I tease, and she glances over her shoulder with her little finger in her mouth.

  It certainly gives me ideas of what other things she can do with her mouth and dainty bubblegum tongue.

  “I think it’s the other way around. I see the way you are looking at me,” she responds, with her body language begging for me to do something about this heat between us.

  The way she moves is hypnotic and I hang on her every word. She has this glow of innocence I can’t quite put my finger on.

  “That man didn’t deserve your sympathy,” I say, trying to change the subject while I take long strides with my boots filling up with sand with every step.

  “Every life is precious. I know it’s hard to see past the evil in the world, but you need to remember there are good people deserving of a second chance.” She sounds like a fortune cookie.

  I always thought I was the one to have all the answers, but maybe I was deluding myself. She shows there is a way to turn the other cheek without losing a piece of myself.

  I jangle the chains of my dog tags and she turns with a shake of her head to see me playing with them. I can see her eyes dart a little further south. I can’t stop my reaction. It comes alive by her eyes glued to it. I straighten up and let her look at the merchandise.

  I’m getting this sense of vertigo with everything around me spinning in a clockwise motion. I take a few steps and it feels like my head is swimming upstream against the current of something more powerful at work. My body is betraying me, and the blood loss is more significant than I made it out to be.

  I drop to my knees, but she is there to hold me up. She brings me into the house, and I sit on the chair while she ministers to the wound. I can see her cleavage and it heaves every time she takes a deep breath. She’s licking her lips and bending over a little more. I can see inside her bra and her miraculous rack is in desperate need of appreciation.

  She loves the attention and she grazes the inside of my thigh with her fingers. I flex in response, with good sense and judgment going out the window.