The Enemy Duet Read online

  In Enemy Territory

  ◆◆◆

  Copyright 2018 Monica Clayton

  Published by M.E. Clayton

  All Rights Reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The entire content is a product of the author’s imagination and all names, places, businesses and incidences are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), places or occurrences, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Formatting: Smashwords

  Cover: Adobe Stock

  Warning: This book contains sexual situations and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 years of age and over.

  Table of Contents

  ◆◆◆

  Author's Note

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Prologue

  1. Fiona

  2. Fiona

  3. Fiona

  4. Fiona

  5. Fiona

  6. Damien

  7. Fiona

  8. Damien

  9. Fiona

  10. Damien

  11. Fiona

  12. Damien

  13. Fiona

  14. Damien

  15. Fiona

  16. Damien

  17. Fiona

  18. Damien

  19. Fiona

  20. Damien

  21. Fiona

  22. Damien

  23. Fiona

  24. Damien

  25. Fiona

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Contact Me

  Author’s Note

  ◆◆◆

  Just a couple of things before I let you go and get your read on. While I am doing my best to work with better editing and proofreading software, all my books are solo, independent works. I write my books, proofread my books, edit my books, create the covers, etc. I have one beta who gives me feedback on my stories, but other than that, all my books are independent projects.

  That being said, I apologize, in advance, for the typos, grammar inconsistencies, or any other mistakes I may make. Since writing is strictly a hobby for me, I haven’t looked for commitments in regard to publishers, editors, etc. My hope is that my stories are enjoyable enough that a few mistakes, here and there, can be overlooked. If not, my books are probably not for you.

  Also, I am an avid reader-I mean an AVID reader. I love to read above any other hobby. One of the things about reading that hurts my heart, though, is when I fall in love with a book, but I have to wait for the additional books in the series to be released. Because I feel that disappointment down to my soul, I vowed that if I ever write a series, all books will be published at once. Nope-no waiting over here…LOL. So, if you are reading one of my books, but can’t find any other books on the secondary characters of that book, that means the book is a standalone project. Now, the exception to this was, both Enemy Series (Facing the Enemy and In Enemy Territory). I got enough requests for their secondary characters’ stories, I decided to write them. But, in the future, series books not released all at once will only happen at the request of my readers. As much as this is a hobby, I am writing these books for you guys as well as myself.

  Thank you, all, for turning this hobby into something exciting and magical!

  Acknowledgements

  ◆◆◆

  The first acknowledgement will always be my husband (unless we ever divorce, then probably not so much after that), but seeing as how I can’t imagine that day ever coming, I can’t ever put myself out there without thanking him for all his love, support and belief in me.

  Second, there’s my family; my daughter, my son, my grandchildren, my sister, and my mother. They are the people who love me the most and know me the best, but love me dearly, in spite, of all they know…LOL!

  And, of course, there’s Kamala. She insists that I don’t have to thank her in every book, but my love for her and gratitude for all her support and enthusiasm, claims otherwise. She’s the first person (outside my family) that I shared this dream with, and she’s been by my side every step of the way. Kam, you really are the best kind of friend!

  And, finally, I’d like to thank everyone who’s purchased, read, reviewed, shared, and supported me and my writing. Thank you so much for helping make this dream a reality and a happy, fun one at that! There are not enough ‘Thank You’s in the world….

  Dedication

  ◆◆◆

  For My Grandsons-

  You will all meet a girl one day who will shine so brightly, she’ll cast away all the shadows that threaten to drag you down. Your job is to make sure you give her everything she needs to keep shining. Her lightness will diminish your darkness. I love you boys!

  Prologue

  Fiona – (5-Years-Old)~

  I don’t think he likes me.

  The boy with the black hair keeps looking at me like Daddy does when he’s yelling at Momma. Is he mad at me because I got the bucket of crayons first? I’ll share if he wants to color too. Momma is always telling me that people should share, so I’ll share if he wants.

  Is he sitting in the corner because Miss Julie got him in trouble? Maybe that’s why he looks mad, and he really does like me.

  Should I take him some crayons? Will Miss Julie get mad at me if I do? All the other kids are playing and having fun, so maybe she won’t get mad. I know, I’ll ask her first. If the black-haired boy is in trouble Miss Julie will tell me.

  She’s picking up the read time books from our group table. I tug on her skirt, so she will look at me. “Miss Julie?” She looks down at me and smiles. Miss Julie is very pretty. She has soft, yellow hair, and she’s always putting flowers in it. Her eyes are blue and she is always laughing. She’s also very nice to me. I’m happy that Momma made her my teacher.

  “Hey, Sweetie.”

  “Is it okay if I share the crayons with the boy in the corner?” I whispered.

  I guess she didn’t hear me because she bends her knees, so I don’t have to look up anymore. “I’m sorry, Fiona, I didn’t hear you.”

  I looked over at the boy really fast. He’s still looks like he’s mad, so I looked back at Miss Julie. “Is the boy in the corner in time-out? I think he wants to color.”

  Miss Julie looked over at the boy, and then she looked at me again. “No, sweetie, he’s not in trouble. He…uh…he just likes to play by himself sometimes.”

  Oh, good. He wasn’t in trouble. “So then he can color?”

  Miss Julie started biting on her lower lip and I wonder if it hurts when she does that. “Y…yes, Fiona. He can color if he wants to.”

  I ran to pick up the colors I was using. After I put them all back in the bucket, I grabbed two color books and carried them over to the black-haired boy.

  Hopefully, he would see that I was nice, and he’d want to be my friend. Momma says it’s good to have lots of friends. It means you’ll never be alone if you have lots of friends. I already had my new friend Victoria, but it was okay if we had more friends.

  The boy didn’t say anything as I put the crayons and coloring books on the floor in front of him. He still looked mad, but once I tell him I’ll share the crayons, I know he’ll be happy.

  “Hi. My name is Fiona.” I smiled at him because Momma says my smile makes people happy, and I wanted my new friend to be happy.

  He didn’t tell me his name, though. He just sat there, still looking mad.

  I know! He didn’t know I was sharing the crayons, so that’s why he was still mad. “I brought you a color book. It’s a boy color book, and it’s okay if you want to use the crayons. I’ll share and we can color together.”

  He closed his green eyes. I’ve never seen green eyes before. Momma’s and Daddy’s eyes are brown, so my eyes are brown. I’ve seen blue eyes, like Miss Julie’s, but I’ve never seen green eyes. They were very pretty.

  When he opened his eyes, he finally talked to me. “Why are you talking to me?”

  Didn’t he know we were going to be friends? “Because I want you to be my friend,” I told him. “I’m Fiona. What’s your name?”

  “I don’t want to be your friend, so leave me alone, Fiona.”

  My nose started to tickle like when I’m going to start to cry. “Why don’t you want to be my friend? I’ll be a nice friend, I promise.”

  “I don’t want to be your friend because I’m not friends with stupid girls.”

  He was a meany. “I’m not stupid!”

  “Yes, you are! My friends make me feel happy. You just make me feel weird.”

  I can’t believe how mean he’s being to me. “What do I make you feel?” I asked.

  He leaned into my face. “You make me feel like the bad guys on Halloween.”

  He stood up and, walking away, he didn’t care that he had left me here crying.

  Chapter 1

  Is he my friend, or isn’t
he?

  Fiona – (10-Years-Old)~

  I couldn’t wait to see Vicky. She wasn’t on the school bus this morning, so she was probably running late as usual. I jumped off the bus so excited to find her and show her my new art bag that I actually, rudely, pushed some kids aside as I hopped off the last step of the bus door opening.

  I would always hear my parents fighting about not having enough money to pay bills and stuff, so last night, when my mom told me she had been saving a little bit, here and there, to buy me this bag, I had been so overwhelmed with gratitude that I couldn’t stop the tears. It wasn’t my birthday or Christmas, so I was a little confused over why she got me the bag, but I was too happy to ask any questions.

  The bag was an oversized tote with a million pockets on the inside to hold all my art supplies. It was also dark blue with a hundred different lighter shades of blue slashed throughout the material. And since blue was my favorite color that made the bag just that much more awesome.

  I finally made my way through the school’s front doors. Vicky and I went to Hamilton Elementary in Smithtown, California. It was one of those schools where everything was inside one big building. There was another elementary school on the other side of town, but that one was open everywhere. I wished I could go there instead. It seemed nice to be able to leave class and walk directly outside into the sun, rain or whatever. It didn’t have that cooped-up vibe that Hamilton had.

  I only had ten minutes before the bell rang, so I could only blame my uncontrollable excitement for what came next. I was usually very good about paying attention to who all were roaming up and down the hallways. I’ve had my share of embarrassing run-ins and I tried to avoid being in the spotlight as much as possible. However, the excitement over my new art bag had overshadowed common self-preservation because I didn’t see the dark-haired, green-eyed boy in front of me until my front was brought to an abrupt halt by his back.

  I wish I had been paying better attention. I wish I had been quick enough to recognize him and take off running the other way. I wish I had done a lot of things differently…but I hadn’t. Damien whirled around in a flurry of green, and I instantly took a step back and clutched my backpack and new art bag to my body.

  He was wearing his green jacket over a simple white t-shirt, blue jeans and a pair of white sneakers. His dark hair was shaggy around his face and his green eyes were, as always, looking at me with hate. I don’t know what I ever did to this boy to make him dislike me so much, but he did. And he made no effort to pretend otherwise. “Are you blind or something?” His friends snickered next to him.

  I shook my head. “N…no. I’m sorry.” Now here’s the part where I should, either turn around and go back the way I came, or sidestep him and his friends and rush past them, but I did neither of those things.

  Damien Sebastian Greystone III has been nothing but mean to me since we were five-years-old. And because he’s been so mean for so long, I knew no matter which way I moved, he was going to do or say something to embarrass me. So, on the too-many-occasions-to-count when I was around him, I stood still and took it until he was done with whatever form of torture he chose to inflict.

  The only thing I could say, though, was that I was proud that, no matter how mean he was to me, I always looked him in the eye. Damien scared me, and he hurt my feelings all the time, but I always looked him in his eerie green eyes when he did. I hid from him a lot, but when I couldn’t, I tried to be ready.

  He looked at my hair, then my face and then my clothes. He always got an ugly look on his face when he looked at my shoes. I don’t know why he hated my shoes, but I also didn’t know why he hated me, either. “What’s that?”

  I froze.

  Absolutely froze.

  He was talking about my new art bag.

  I started shaking my head so hard I could feel the little butterfly clips Momma put in my hair this morning coming loose. I hugged the bag closer to my chest. “No…nothing.”

  The corner of his lip went up like he might smile, but I knew better. He never smiled at me. Ever. “Are you lying to me?”

  Yes! “It’s just the new art bag my momma bought me.”

  He reached his arm out towards me. “Let me see it.”

  I could feel the tingle in my nose again that warned me I was about to cry. “W...why?”

  He took a step closer towards me and I could hear his friends start ‘oohing’ at me. “I said let me see it, Halloween.”

  “No. I have to get to class.” I held the bag even tighter.

  I was so shocked when he just nodded his head and stepped aside, so I could pass him. I looked down the hall, and I saw Vicky coming my way. I was so happy to see her that I smiled and rushed to meet her. I had just made it past Damien when I felt a rush of air as my new bag was pulled out of my hands.

  Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

  I should have held on tighter until I had made it to class.

  I turned around and saw my new art bag in Damien’s hands. I couldn’t stop the tears because I already knew what was going to happen next. “Damien, pl…please, give me back my bag. Please!”

  He looked at his friends. “Awe…she wants her bag back. What do you guys think? Should I give her the bag?”

  I could see Vicky standing next to me now. “I’m going to tell the teacher if you don’t give Fiona back her bag, Damien!”

  Damien gave Vicky the same look he always gave my shoes. “Sure thing, Vicky.”

  I held my breath. It wasn’t going to be that easy. It never was with him.

  I reached out to take my bag back, but before I could get my hands on it, Damien had taken both his hands and tugged down the seams ripping the bag in half.

  It felt like there was someone really heavy sitting on my lungs as I watched him throw the bag at my feet. “That’s what happens when your mom buys you cheap things, Halloween. They fall apart.”

  The bell for class rang and everyone around me started scattering to get to class while I stood there crying over my bag. I could feel Vicky’s arms around me as I cried.

  I hated Damien Greystone no matter how much Jesus says we shouldn’t hate people. I hated him…absolutely hated him.

  When I got home from school, I had lied to Momma and told her I left my new art bag at school. I lied again and told her I did it because I was scared of losing it on the bus. She believed me because she thinks I never lie to her and I usually don’t. The only time I lie is when Damien does something to me. I don’t know why I lie, but I do. He so mean to me, but I’m scared to get him in trouble. If he’s this mean to me when I haven’t done anything to him, I don’t want to know what he’d do to me if I did do something to cause him trouble.

  I cried myself to sleep that night and the next day at school I made sure I stayed away from Damien. And because I ran to class, I was the first one there. My teacher, Mrs. Bicksley, just smiled at me as I went to my desk. I sat in the back of the room because it was safest. Damien sat two rows ahead of me, and so I felt better knowing I could watch him.

  My feet slowed down as I walked to my desk. Our desks were given to us when school started and no one else sat in them but us, so I was surprised to see something peeking out from my desk chair.

  I finally got to my seat, and I started to panic.

  In my chair was a dark blue brand-new art bag.

  I stood there afraid to touch it.

  After a minute or so, I noticed a little white tag on one of the many zippers. I reached over to check it out. It might have someone’s name on it because there’s no way this could be for me. I turned the tag over and saw that it was a price tag. My nose started to tingle again.

  The bag cost $150.00!

  I put my backpack on top of my desk and picked up the bag to look at it. It was such a pretty art bag. It felt thicker than the one Momma had bought me and there were fancy pockets on the outside of this one. It also felt heavier. I pulled on the main zipper to look inside and I couldn’t stop my panicked breathing. Inside the bag were brand-new art supplies. I could see colored pencils, new chalks in so many different colors and two art pads.