Fighting Chance
Authors: Paulette Oakes
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FIGHTING CHANCE |
A STAR-CROSSED LOVERS |
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PAULETTE OAKES |
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COPYRIGHT 2016 PAULETTE OAKES
COVER ART BY STEVEN J. CATIZONE
All rights reserved worldwide. No
part of this book may be reproduced in any form without express written
permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters,
events, locations, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead,
events or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is for entertainment
purposes only. All trademarked items are the property of the owner and used
only for entertainment purposes.
Note: I am an indie author with no
professional publishing team. All editing mistakes are my own. Please judge me
on the quality of the story and not the small mistakes that I may have missed.
This book contains adult content and is
not intended for readers under the age of 18.
I’m just going to say this. I wrote this book for me. I have
been a voracious reader my entire life, and that hasn’t changed just because I
now write them, too. Recently, I had been sucked into science fiction romance.
Some were good, some were just okay, and some were downright terrible. I loved
the concept of alien worlds, but there were always certain things that bothered
me. For starters, it seemed that all the male characters were cookie-cutter
images of chest-beating alpha males who were possessive, driven by a “need” to
mate, and not terribly bright. The heroines were always terrified wimps, or
sarcastic with nothing to offer but their smart mouths. I wanted to see
something new. I wanted to find an alien hero who was strong, handsome, and not
driven by any other force other than admiration and respect. I wanted to see a
heroine that could fight, stand up for herself, and learn to let herself go
enough to love. I think I captured that in this book. If the reaction of my
beta reader is any indication, it was a big success.
This is also the first book I’ve written that has sex scenes
in it. In deference to my friends and family, I kept the language as clean as
possible and there are no “porn” phrases used. This book is about love, and sex
is a big part of that. I think it’s classy, but still hot, but if you’re not
into that sort of thing, just skip those scenes or don’t read it at all.
And also for my Momma. Just because I will always love you
and miss you forever.
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“Bring down the fighter!” the petite, redheaded woman
screamed. “We have to take out the lead aircraft before we can scatter their
reinforcements!”
Chaos reigned all around her as military troops scrambled
around to follow her orders. Bombs exploded, the sound of bullets ricocheting
around them had them ducking for cover, and an influx of terrifying alien
figures dropped from buildings to land before frightened citizens with vicious
swings of their curved blades. Terrified screams rent the air as women and
children ran for their lives and men were cut down without mercy.
The woman assessed the situation and immediately began
issuing more orders. “Fire at will! Aim for their heads and keep out of reach
of their blades! Johnson, you and your men concentrate on evacuating the
civilians and directing medical personnel on the front lines. Do NOT allow any
hostages to be taken!”
“General!” a tall, handsome man with wide shoulders and a
crew cut addressed her. “What about the lead aircraft? Our guns are having no
effect!”
The woman’s eyes narrowed in determination and her back
stiffened with resolve. “I guess I’ll just have to take care of this myself.”
The woman set off at a run, her camouflaged fatigues hugging
the firm roundness of her behind and emphasizing the generous swell of her
breasts. Stopping briefly to snatch up a three foot-long RPG, the redhead ran
for an abandoned motorcycle lying on its side in the road. As bullets tore up
the street all around her, she straddled the shiny black Harley and slammed her
foot down on the starter.
Looking back for a brief moment to meet the eyes of her men,
she curled her lip and called out, “For victory! For America! For the human
race!”
A loud cheer erupted from the troops as she turned forward
and revved the engine on her bike. Before she could take off, however, a loud
voice boomed, “Cut! That’s scene! Send in the stunt double!”
The redhead reluctantly slid off the bike and set the prop
on the ground as another woman, dressed identically to her down to the red wig
affixed to her hair, jogged up to join her on the set.
The two women shared friendly smiles as they stopped to chat
while the crew prepared for the next scene. The newcomer, taller than the
actress by several inches, clapped the woman on her shoulder and said, “Damn,
Jess! That gave me goose bumps, and I was watching through the monitors. This
movie will take you to the top of the leading ladies list for sure. You are
amazing and the cameras love you.”
The young woman blushed, pleasure at the compliment turning
her fair complexion a lovely shade of pink. “Thanks, Mahoney. I just wish I
could do what you do, though. I love acting and taking on these roles, but I
wish I had the strength and ability to do dangerous stunts and fight scenes
like you can.” Her voice was wistful and her soft blue eyes were full of
longing.
Mahoney gave the younger woman an affectionate squeeze on
her shoulder. This was the third movie they had worked on together over the
last several years and they had forged an unlikely friendship that continued
off camera. To Mahoney, Jessica MacGregor was a rare commodity among actresses
that she had worked with over the last seven years. Jessica, at the tender age
of 25, was beautiful with her Scottish heritage lending her fiery red hair and
bright blue eyes, but she was so much more than her looks. She was a hard
worker, genuine in her affection, and without the fake artifice that seemed to
run rampant in Hollywood. She was passionate about her roles, and treated the
cast and crew with respect. There was no haughty pride or princess behavior
about her, and Mahoney had found herself oddly protective of the young woman
who was just beginning to earn a name for herself in the business.
Mahoney bent and snagged up the prop RPG and balanced it on
her shoulder negligently. Even through the bulky camouflage, the muscles in her
arm bulged as she held the fake weapon steady. At over 5’10”, Mahoney had
inherited her Irish father’s height, but her delicate features and shapely body
were courtesy of her Japanese mother. Her eyes were slightly canted, lending
her an exotic flair, with deep brown irises that could either light up with
mirth or turn dark and glassy with determination. Her body was lean and strong
with ropey muscles that lent her both grace and strength that was clearly
evident during her fight scenes. At only 31 years old, she had mastered several
styles of martial arts including Wing Chun, Jiu-jitsu, several styles of Kung
Fu, and even some Krav Maga. She was also both fearless and ruthless inside a
boxing ring.
“Are you kidding me?” the stuntwoman laughed. “You’d rather
deal with broken bones, strains, and treating your body like a punching bag
when you have the ability to transform yourself into any role you step into?
Jess, you are so talented at what you do that millions of people around the
world scream your name and flock to the theaters to see your movies. Don’t sell
yourself short. You are beautiful, famous, and incredibly gifted at
understanding human emotion.”
The young woman flushed again, but her chin notched up with
stubbornness. “Yeah, but you’re a badass. I’d trade it all to be more like
you.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the testy shouting of
the director. “Take your places, people! Jessica, report to makeup! Mahoney,
take your position!”
The friends exchanged identical eye rolls as they agreed to
meet at Jessica’s trailer after shooting wrapped on the next scene. As the crew
rushed to arrange Mahoney on the bike, her face lost all trace of warmth as she
mentally reviewed the stunt scene ahead of her. The motorcycle rumbled
underneath her as if eager to begin, and she gripped the prop RPG with one
hand. Though she had spent years riding motorcycles, she was still nervous
about the scene since it called for navigating the bike one-handed. Ruthlessly,
she pressed her nerves down and locked them up and allowed her confidence and
training to kick in.
“And, action!” the director barked.
Immediately, Mahoney took off like a shot across the
carefully planned set. She had practiced and trained on this course over two
dozen times in the last few weeks, and she allowed muscle memory to assist her
in dodging extras dressed as sharp-fanged aliens, screaming civilians, and
fighting military troops. Cameras mounted on wheels followed her closely as
others caught the action while mounted at different angles. Mahoney didn’t see
any of it, though. All she saw was the course as she weaved in and out of
parked cars, raced across crowded sidewalks, and finally approached the hidden
ramp that would send her hurtling through the air for the final stunt.
Mahoney’s heart began to beat faster as she increased the
speed going up the ramp until she and the bike hurtled through air. Taking her
other hand from the handle, she braced the prop against her shoulder for the
count of five before tossing it away and gripping the handlebars once more. Her
heartbeat was thundering in her ears as she braced for landing on the other
side where another ramp was waiting to catch her. With a teeth-clenching thud,
the bike landed perfectly to the sound of raucous cheers from the whole set.
“Cut!” the director shouted with excitement. “That was an
excellent take, everybody! Mahoney, let’s do it one more time to make sure we
get all the angles.”
Mahoney, buzzing with adrenaline, couldn’t stop the fist
pump of glee over having gotten the first take done so flawlessly. Before she
could come down from the high, she revved the bike up and made her way back to
the starting point while the cast and crew raced to take their positions again.
Two hours later, the light was beginning to fade, and the
director finally called a halt to production. He had insisted Mahoney do the
stunt a total of four times before he was satisfied with the footage. Mahoney
accepted claps on the back and congratulations from the crew as she made her
way across the set toward Jessica’s trailer. Her legs were a little wobbly with
aftershocks from gripping the bike with her thighs and her arms ached from
bracing herself for the landings, but her mood was jubilant as she rounded the
corner to where Jessica’s trailer was resting far enough away from the set so
that the noise and foot-traffic didn’t disturb her between takes.
Mahoney swiped her face with her hand and it came away
covered in makeup and sweat. The wig was hot and itchy, and she couldn’t wait
to throw herself in the chair in front of Jessica’s mirror so she could begin
the arduous task of taking it off. Her stride began to slow as she got closer
to the trailer and narrowed her eyes at the massive bulk of a man standing with
his arms crossed in front of the trailer door.
The man was thick with muscles straining under the black tee
shirt with lettering in white that pronounced “SECURITY.” His skin was as dark
as coffee and his bald head shone with beads of sweat under the fading light of
the California sun. Around his hip, he wore a holster with gun and ammo clip,
but from the look of his physique, he wouldn’t need to rely on it in an
emergency. His eyes tracked her every move and only the slow curling of his
lips indicated he observed her approach.
Mahoney came to an impatient stop in front of the immoveable
man, and gave a brief tip of her head. “Bruce, you gonna let me in or what?”
Bruce took his time running his eyes down her body with an
obvious pause at her chest. “That all depends, Mahoney.”
She fought to keep the flare of anger out of her eyes, but
knew she was losing the battle. “On what?”
A sinful smile revealed perfectly even, brilliantly white
teeth. “On whether or not you’ll finally go out with me.”
Mahoney rolled her eyes and snapped, “You had your chance,
Bruce. You know the rules. If you can beat me in one-on-one combat, I’ll be
your date. You lost. Get over it.”
Bruce chuckled deeply, his pecs jumping with the sound. “Come
on, girl. You know that’s not fair. My momma raised me to never hit a woman, so
it wasn’t a fair fight going in. Besides, you have an unfair advantage with all
that martial arts shit you can do. I’m just an old-fashioned street brawler,
babe. I’m built for power, not speed.”
She was not impressed. “Not my problem, Bruce. Them’s the
rules, and you know it. Now move your big ass out of the way, before I make
you.”
Bruce laughed good-naturedly and stepped away from the door
to let her pass. As she opened the door to her friend’s trailer and climbed the
few steps inside, he called, “One of these days, someone’s going to put you in
your place, Mahoney.”
“Bigger men than you have tried, Bruce,” she replied
flippantly before closing the door in his smug face. “And all of them have
failed.”
