BENSON

  ALPHA COMPANY RENEGADES BOOK 12

  KALI HART

  Benson is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Kali Hart

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author/publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Alpha Company Renegades Series

  Sneak Peek KANE

  1

  IVY

  I’m a total train wreck.

  No, it’s not an exaggeration.

  Unfortunately—despite my best efforts—it seems to be my fate.

  In case I needed any confirmation, my busted suitcase appears on the airport baggage claim carousel, the contents scattered. An alarming number of people are getting an eyeful of my pink bras, more fuzzy socks than any one person should own, and a busted box of tampons. I swear there’s a tire track on my favorite sweatshirt.

  I could just walk away; pretend I don’t have a suitcase. It’d be easier than facing the humiliation. Already, mothers are diverting their kids’ attention elsewhere and creepy men are getting weird looks in their eyes.

  But when you’ve already done the most embarrassing thing you can possibly think of, it’s hard to be shaken by those judgmental stares. Plus, I’m tired and cranky enough from twenty-four hours of traveling that I’d knee a creeper in the groin without a second thought.

  I strut up to the carrousel and collect my unmentionables like I expected my suitcase to have exploded, never once flinching at the muttered harsh comments. I’m just happy my face hasn’t been plastered all over the tabloids. Yet.

  I told my cousin Blaire I’m here for a long overdue visit while I wait for a new season to start filming, but reality is I’ve got nowhere else to go. I’ve been fired before, and I’ve also been evicted. But never on the same day. I humbly accepted some airline miles from a former coworker. Probably the only person on the entire set who actually liked me.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket as I chase down my last stray bra. “Don’t you dare,” I bark at the lanky, balding man who reaches for it. There’s not enough laundry detergent in the world to erase his grubby fingers touching my delicates, and I can’t afford to burn it. I manage to snag it and stuff it my bag.

  I drag my broken suitcase back to a corner bench and fish my phone out of a pocket, hoping it’s Blaire announcing that she’s just outside. I’m ready to get the hell out of airports for a few days. I should win the award for most layovers, but I can’t complain considering the ticket was charity.

  Blaire: I have a work conflict. Won’t be able to pick you up.

  I bite down hard on my bottom lip as I watch the gray bubble, waiting for whatever comes next. I have a few bucks left in my bank account, but I doubt it would cover an Uber ride all the way to her house. I might be walking.

  Blaire: Sawyer is going to send one of his soldiers to get you. Is that okay?

  My cousin married an Army guy a couple of years ago, and I can’t say I’d mind a military escort after the last few days I’ve had. Maybe the universe will be kind to me and let him be hot and single.

  Ivy: Sure.

  Blaire: I’ll make it up to you. Promise. XOXO

  Blaire: Look for a guy in uniform named Benson.

  Blaire: PS – Addy’s excited to meet you!

  They have the most adorable little girl I’ve only seen in pictures. All shitty circumstances aside, I’m really excited to meet little Adelaide.

  Guilt twists inside me for dropping into town so unexpectedly, but Blaire’s been more than accommodating. She’s the only family I have left, and I can’t help but suspect that she feels responsible for me in some way.

  But my disaster of a life is no one’s fault but my own.

  Since I don’t have duct tape, I use a stretchy dress belt to help keep my suitcase closed before I roll it outside on its two broken wheels. Without a single Army uniform in sight, I plop down on a metal bench and wait.

  Being an actress has been my dream since I was little girl. It’s the reason I ran away from a broken home at seventeen for Hollywood. I’ve worked one crummy job after another, just certain the next was a foot in the door to my big break.

  It helps if you don’t spill a dozen lattes on the star.

  Yeah, that happened two days ago.

  I was the executive assistant’s assistant. The girl who ran for coffee to fuel the screen writers and stars. The girl who picked up dry cleaning, emptied the trash, and made late night alcohol runs because they were already drunk. I rarely slept. I practically lived on the show’s set.

  But I was going places.

  With a star like Garrett Wilde on the show, how could I not?

  Too bad I stained his favorite shirt and gave him third degree burns. I suppose I should be happy he’s not pressing charges.

  I have no clue what comes next, but while I’m in town I plan to enjoy myself. Even if that means telling a few little white lies so Blaire doesn’t worry about me. She’s the most kindhearted person I’ve ever met. The last thing she should worry about is her out-of-work cousin.

  BENSON

  Pulling into the airport, I slow and search the signs for the arrivals, Blaire’s warning still ringing in my ears. Tread carefully. Odd thing to say considering how intent Blaire’s been on setting me up with someone. Sawyer’s wife has staged more blind dates than I can count, despite my pleas for her to stop.

  Tread carefully. I can’t help but wonder if she’s trying some kind of reverse psychology on me this time.

  Blaire means well, but I only entertain these painful dates out of kindness. Mostly, I’m over the lying. Seems to come with the territory with any of the women that I’ve gotten involved with.

  Is it so much to ask for my soulmate to be trustworthy?

  I’ve always wanted a wife, kids, dog, the whole nine yards, but I’ve accepted that it might not be in the cards for me. My ex lied about a lot of things, the biggest was that she was still married. It’s been well over two years, and it still leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

  Shaking away the irritating thoughts, I focus on my search for Ivy outside of the arrivals area. Once I drop her off at Blaire’s house, I’m free. Civilian clothes and a booth at Barry’s Bar and Grill are already calling my name. I’m definitely ordering the party size basket of wings to enjoy while the baseball game plays above the bar. There are perks to being single.

  I spot a woman leaned over on a bench so far that her long blonde hair curtains her face. Her suitcase appears busted up, held together by some purple elastic contraption. I pull along the curb and check my phone, comparing her to the photo Blaire sent me.

  After I ease into a spot, I hop out of the truck. She hasn’t looked up yet, so I approach with caution hoping not to startle her. “Ivy?”

  Slowly she lifts her head, pushing back her hair with both hands. When those deep blue eyes meet mine, I’m stunned into silence. They’re the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I swear they have the power to penetrate clear to my soul if only I let them. “Are you Benson?”

  I point to my name tag in answer because words have abandoned me.

  She smooths both hands over her hair and pops to her feet, revealing her voluptuous body to me in full. Those curves could make a man do crazy things. I remind myself of Blaire’s warning. Reverse psychology or not, I can sense how dangerous this beautiful woman is to my sanity. The sooner I drop her off, the better.

  “Guess you’re my ride,” she says, curling her fingers around her suitcase handle.

  At the first scraping of broken wheels against concrete, I go for her suitcase. But she jumps in front of me to guard it. “I got it. My poor bag has been through hell today, and enough people have seen my underwear thank you very much.” Those beautiful eyes are tired and weary. I wish I knew the trick to make them sparkle.

  “I’ll be careful,” I promise, refusing to step back. I was raised better than to let a woman heft her own suitcase into the back of a truck. “Please?”

  “Oh, what the hell?” Ivy lets out a heavy sigh and releases her grip on the handle. “Go ahead. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Her suitcase is heavy and awkward. It’s hard to tell what’s exactly busted as the whole thing seems unstable. I grip it the best I can and thank Ivy for opening the back door. I wouldn’t dare put this in the truck bed. “Long visit?” I guess by the hefty weight of the suitcase.

  “Couple weeks.”

  I close the door once her suitcase is secured, able to take in the sight of her a bit better. My gaze rakes over her curves, showcased by a flowing pink dress that cinches beneath bountiful tits. But it’s the slit high up on one leg that forces me to look away. The breeze keeps catching the edges of the fabric.

  Blaire was right about one thing: Ivy is dangerous.
  2

  IVY

  “I appreciate you giving me a ride,” I say to the sexy soldier driving me away from the airport in his oversized diesel truck. I’m quite a fan, not just of the extra legroom and how much higher up I get to sit, but how damn attractive he looks behind the wheel.

  “No problem. I’m happy to help out Sawyer and Blaire.”

  The weariness of the last couple of days has started to dissipate. I’m sure it’s the relief of finally arriving at my destination after such a hellacious adventure, but I can’t help but wonder if some of this renewed energy is due to the pleasant surprise my cousin sent my way. Surely, she knew what she was doing.

  For a single car ride, I might be able to pretend my life doesn’t completely suck right now.

  “I hope I didn’t pull you away from something important.” Not only have I noticed that he’s still wearing that uniform, but I’ve fantasized about getting him out of it. I bet a man like him—tall, broad shouldered, chiseled jaw—has abs for days. I’d love to run my fingers over the washboards.

  “Nah. Got me out of inventory, actually.”

  “Inventory?”

  “Yeah, Sawyer’s got a change of command coming up. So he has to do an inventory, and I was helping out. Just checking tents, cots, stuff like that.”

  “And here I thought all you Army guys did was blow things up!”

  Benson lets out an easy laugh, reassuring me I didn’t offend him. I have a tendency to stick my foot in my mouth. Usually it’s followed by stomach-twisting guilt. It’s among the reasons I have my train wreck status.

  “What do you do?” Benson asks the question innocently enough.

  My first instinct is to blurt the truth—I’m unemployed and homeless. But I really like riding in the truck with him. It gives me a feeling I can almost put my finger on. It’s like a mixture of normalcy, hope and coconut sunscreen. I feel calm and confident in a way I’ve never experienced. Like anything is possible.

  I glance his way, but his eyes are on the road. What harm would it do if I practiced the spiel I’ll be giving to Blaire on Benson? I’ll never see the guy after this ride, right? What’s a little white lie?

  “I’m an actress.”

  “An actress?” He turns his head toward me, his gaze sweeping over my body. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  My nipples tingle with excitement. “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. You’re beautiful and charismatic. What have you been in? Anything I’d know?”

  This is my chance to correct myself. Tell him that I want to be actress. That I did work on the set of a TV show with one of the most famous actors on this planet. But the admiration in his eyes is so damn sexy. The words slip out before I can stop them. “It’s a new show. We just finished filming the first season, so it’s not out yet.”

  “What’s it called?”

  The screenwriters are way better at making this stuff up on the fly than I am. Improv is probably my weakest point as an actress. Something I’m working on. I search the truck and outside the windows for inspiration. But it’s my own situation that inspires my made-up title. “Train Wreck Without a Cause.”

  His shoulders lift with laughter at my clever title. “Sounds like a comedy.”

  “Oh, it is.”

  “Wow, that’s so cool.”

  Because my ego loves to be stroked after the brutal beating it took, I keep going. “I played a minor role in the first season. But when I go back to Hollywood, I’ll have a bigger part in season two.”

  Benson rolls his shoulders back. I don’t know why but I find it so sexy. It makes me want to touch those shoulders. Skim my fingers over his hard muscles. Preferably when the two of us are naked.

  “I’ve never met an actress before.”

  I don’t know how long I’ll be in town, but it won’t be long enough to see Benson again. Too bad. “Well, now you have.”

  BENSON

  Sitting at Barry’s Bar and Grill later that night, I can’t help but stare at my phone. Forget that it’s the bottom of the fourth inning—or is it fifth? —with based loaded.

  My mind is on Ivy.

  I’ve never met an actress before. As cool as that is, it’s not why I’m so drawn to her. It’s everything about her from her dazzling smile, to her amazing curves, to how easy it is to talk to her. Conversation never once felt forced or awkward. It felt natural. Like we’d been talking for years not just minutes.

  I flip my phone upside down, giving up on her texting me. I gave her my number when I dropped her off in case she needed anything. I even sent myself a text from her phone so I had her number. But I’ve been heeding Blaire’s advice and haven’t asked Ivy out. I still can’t figure out why she warned me.

  The baseball game holds little interest to me now. It might hold more if Ivy were here to enjoy it with me. My thoughts drift. I wonder if she likes baseball or has a favorite team. Would we ever go to a game together?

  I know I shouldn’t text her, but I can’t help myself.

  Benson: Hey, get settled in ok?

  I stare at the phone, willing those three little bubbles to pop up. These nerves are new. I’ve always been a man who’s known what he wants and hasn’t hesitated to act. I tell myself it’s because of Blaire’s warning. But if I’m being honest, it’s Ivy herself. She’s intimidating in a way I’ve never experienced before.

  A fear surfaces. If I cross an invisible line in the sand, I might stumble onto a point of no return.

  “Can I get you anything else? Another beer?” The waitress flashes me her best smile. I recognize the sweet suggestion in her tone, but I don’t entertain it. I never have. I’m not interested, but tonight it’s because I can’t stop thinking about the curvy beauty I picked up from the airport.

  “Check?”

  “Sure thing.”

  For the first time, watching the game alone feels…well…lonely.

  Ivy: Yep! Just got out of the shower.

  Heaven help me, the first thing I do is picture her naked and dripping wet. My dick hardens halfway in my jeans, forcing me to sit a few minutes longer and at least finish out the top of the fifth. What the hell do I say to that?

  Benson: It was nice meeting you today.

  What the fuck, dude? I cringe, knowing full well I sound like some pansy guy who has no game. It was nice meeting you? Too bad I already sent that one before I could come up with something better.

  “Here you go.” The waitress makes a point to hand the check and pen directly to me. Our fingers graze, but I feel nothing. No electricity. No spark. It’s been that way for longer than I care to admit when it comes to any woman. “I brought you another beer,” she coos. “Just in case. It’s on me.” She leaves me with a wink.

  It might be time to find another place to watch the game. I never meant to lead her on. She could have any other guy in here. I feel guilty that she’s wasting her efforts on me.

  Ivy: That the best line you got?

  My heart lurches in my chest at her response. I’m reminded why Ivy has made such an impression on me. A cheesy grin spreads across my lips, but I don’t care. I take a sip of the free beer and contemplate a reply.

  Benson: Is there an airport nearby or is it my heart taking off?

  Ivy: Clever.

  Ivy: Funny guy. I like it ;)

  The little winky face shouldn’t make my dick twitch, but it does.

  Ivy: What are you wearing, soldier?

  I shouldn’t play this game—it’s playing with fire. But dammit, I can’t help it.

  Benson: Jeans, t-shirt, boxers. You?

  Ivy: Just a towel.

  I take another pull of my beer, waiting for the waitress to bring my credit card back. I have to get the hell out of here now. Before this conversation gets any more heated than it already is. I need the privacy of my own home.

 

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