Raising Avon

By Rebekah Shelton

All Captain Jeremy Hanson wanted to do was complete a three-month assignment with Cadet Avon Zadoorian. And then be assigned his dream job as a pilot on an intergalactic battleship. It should have been easy, but there is nothing easy about Avon, the spoiled rotten daughter of a General and the second in command of the Intergalactic Command Exchange. Who will get court-martialed first in this highly volatile love/hate relationship in which they both love to hate each other? The assignment goes from bad to worse when Cadet Zadoorian's true identity is revealed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebekah Shelton
• Release date: Jun 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311379412

Rebekah Shelton

Rebekah Shelton, originally from Northeastern Ohio and now residing in Middle Tennessee with her husband, is an empty nester who found her passion for writing through her love of reading. Her literary journey began with her first book, "Emerald Eyes," which started as a tragic romance but evolved into a captivating paranormal romance. Captivated by the characters she created, Rebekah continued to delve into their world, crafting the ongoing series known as the "Legend of the Snow Wolves." Expanding upon her storytelling prowess, she ventured into the realm of the supernatural with a mythological twist in her spin-off series, "The Red Wolf Chronicles."Driven by her addiction to sci-fi movies and her boundless imagination, Rebekah embarked on her third series, titled "The Battle for Zarcon," immersing readers in an exhilarating science fiction universe. Displaying her versatility as an author, she co-authored a book alongside her husband, Jeff, entitled "Operation De-ICE - The Battle for Earth," delivering a collaborative tale filled with thrilling adventures and epic battles."Address for Murder" draws inspiration from a real-life incident that sparked the author's imagination. The story revolves around a woman who faces difficulties receiving packages at her post office box, which had previously been rented by an FBI agent. Intrigued by the possibilities, the author began contemplating what would unfold if the box came into the possession of a CIA agent entangled in a dangerous web of deception and betrayal. Thus, "Address for Murder" was born, weaving a thrilling narrative that explores the consequences of a double or even triple cross, putting the life of an innocent girl in jeopardy.

Book preview

Captain Jeremy Hanson couldn’t believe just how much his luck had changed and for the worse. He had considered himself a rising star in the Intergalactic Command Exchange. Looking into the mirror, Jeremy could only see his career plummeting lower and lower. He felt as if he had hit rock bottom. Jeremy thought hard, trying to determine what he had done to earn him such a low and disgraceful assignment. He was a model soldier and one of the top pilots in the fleet. He didn’t deserve this. However, when ICE's second-in-command requested him personally, Jeremy knew he couldn’t decline.

Jeremy sighed in defeat as he watched Cadet Avon Zadoorian try on yet another party dress. He had lost count at least a dozen dresses ago. Why did one girl need so many dresses? Sure, Cadet Zadoorian's father was an ICE General. But as a first-year cadet, Jeremy doubted Avon would need a civilian wardrobe. Her attire was now the standard issue black uniform of the ICE Academy.

Looking back into the mirror, Jeremy stared at his own uniform. It was meticulous, everything in place, no wrinkles, belt buckle and boots shiny, ribbons perfectly centered. His light brown hair was cut to the three-quarters-inch requirement. His blue eyes sparkled momentarily as he inhaled, and his chest puffed. He was proud of his accomplishments. Jeremy was quickly promoted through the ranks, distinguishing himself during his assignments. He had come from less than humble beginnings. Pushing his current appointment aside, he was proud of his accomplishments.

Then Jeremy saw Avon's reflection standing behind him. Yes, she was pretty. And someday, he was sure Avon would become more beautiful as she matured into a woman. Avon was thin and had a youthful figure, but the dress she was modeling still showed more skin than Jeremy had seen in a long time. Jeremy blinked as he tried to remember the last time he had gone out on a date with a woman. He couldn’t remember. His career had consumed him, devouring every waking minute. Maybe it was while he was still a teenager.

Jeremy tried not to smile, but his eyes quickly betrayed him.

Do you like it? Avon asked demurely.

For a moment, Jeremy imagined Avon was shy. But Jeremy had never seen the timid side of Avon. She always carried herself with a hint of arrogance and distinction. She had stood beside her father all her life as his plus one. The General was a widower, a single father. He had doted on Avon, allowing her to wrap him around her little finger. Whatever Avon wanted, Avon got. It was just that simple.

It was only natural for Avon to follow in her father's footsteps and join ICE. It was all she had ever known. She had been raised by nannies and tutors when the General was away. When the General was home on Earth, the two were practically inseparable. Avon was privately schooled until she went to the Academy. However, her education had been extensive, learning about the galaxy and the military from her father. She had been well educated and groomed to be a fluid conversationalist at any dinner party or social event. She could converse freely on any subject concerning ICE.

Still, Jeremy didn’t see Cadet Zadoorian as an ICE officer. She just didn’t have the backbone for it. She was a socialite and a spoiled brat. I don’t think your father will approve, Jeremy sighed as he turned toward Avon and took another look at her. It’s a bit risqué.

It’s what the other girls my age are wearing, Avon quickly refuted. I’m getting it.

Jeremy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Avon was his responsibility for the next three months, in essence, her babysitter. He was to prep her for her second year at the Academy while her father was deployed to the Stavian Galaxy.

This is a military function we are attending tomorrow, Jeremy reminded Avon. Your dress uniform would be more appropriate.

I’m allowed to wear a civilian dress. I’m still a cadet, Avon pouted. I like this one.

Are you trying to get me court-martialed? Jeremy replied. His voice clearly showed his annoyance. Frack, skip the court-martial. Your father is going to shoot me.

He won’t, Avon tried to giggle. I’m a grown woman and tired of dressing like a little girl. I’m buying this one.

Jeremy knew he couldn’t stop Avon from purchasing the gown. It was a perfect shade of ivory, complementing her dark brown-olive complexion and pale blonde hair. Her eyes were the lightest shade of brown with a hint of green when she smiled. Still, the gown was low cut and showed far more skin than Jeremy was comfortable seeing.

This should be fun, Jeremy mumbled as he turned away, knowing he couldn’t win the argument. It wasn’t his battle to fight. He would do his duty. He would be Avon's escort to the military ball, and he would smile. Avon was his job for the next three months, and he would just grin and bear it. Jeremy would do whatever it took to ensure his place as a pilot on a warship at the end of the summer. It was what he had trained for. It was all he ever wanted to do.

Avon found the shoes and clutch she wanted and asked for them to be dyed to match the dress. Add a touch of gold to both, she requested with a hint of arrogance. And have everything sent to my apartment in the city.

We are staying in the city? Jeremy asked. He thought they would stay outside the city at the General's home. Since Avon was on summer break, he had thought she would want to go home and escape from the hustle and bustle of ICE Command and the overpopulated urban life.

I like the city.

Jeremy stifled his displeasure. Inside he was infuriated. He wanted some peace and quiet. He wanted a few creature comforts if he had to spend three months with Avon. Through the grapevine, Jeremy had heard the General had a cook who still cooked in the old-world style. He had never experienced food that didn’t come from a synthesizer. Jeremy wanted to eat at least one home-cooked meal made with fresh ingredients during his lifetime.

After the ball tomorrow, I’m taking you to the main house, Jeremy stated, asserting himself. It’s too dangerous in the city.

But... Avon started to whine.

Sorry, girlie, but I’m pulling rank, Jeremy insisted. You are a cadet, and I officially outrank you. One night in the city, and then I'll take you to the exburb.

Jeremy knew the dangers of Lorian City. He had lived there all of his life. Jeremy had grown up in the slums outside the military sector. He had fought his way out of the penury, which had almost taken his life many times. The slums were full of crime, corruption, and the lowest of deviants. He had seen more violence before his eighteenth birthday than most humans and other species saw in the most prominent and goriest battles.

Plus, Avon was the daughter of one of the most influential Generals in ICE. She was worth a hefty ransom if kidnaped. Jeremy couldn’t and wouldn’t take the chance of her being abducted. He knew he could protect her more effectively at the General's mansion.

How about lunch? Jeremy suggested. You haven’t eaten since breakfast. I know of a great place with the best portabella mushroom ravioli.

Can we eat outside? Avon asked. I love eating al fresco.

Jeremy knew it was dangerous, but he had a sidearm strapped to his leg. Sure, but I pick the table.

Jeremy led Avon to his favorite restaurant. All public restaurants in Lorian City served synthesized food, but each used its own recipes. Davola's had the best ravioli in the city. It was Jeremy's favorite place to go. Jeremy tried to relax as he escorted Avon to Davola's, but he was hyper-aware of his surroundings. He knew the neighborhood, a middle to upper-class part of town with ritzy shops and expensive restaurants. Still, it could be dangerous.

Jeremy thought back again to his childhood. While he had dreamt of escaping the slums growing up, he never believed it would actually come to fruition. But Jeremy soldiered on every day, learning everything he could, reading everything he could find, and pushing himself mentally and physically to excel. When he turned eighteen, he traveled to the Academy and applied for entrance. Jeremy's test scores were high, and he was admitted. It was, in fact, a dream come true. Jeremy had graduated from the Academy only a year ago and had already been promoted twice, twice as fast as his classmates and peers. He was on the fast track to the rank of Major. But he was starting to doubt whether his current assignment would benefit his career or hinder him. Where would the title of glorified babysitter fit into his short and once illustrious resume?

Jeremy knew his primary objective for the summer was to prepare Avon for her second year at the Academy. Her education had prepared her academically, but physically she wasn’t close to being ready for the rigorous physical demands. Jeremy had read Avon's progress reports. They revealed Avon barely squeaked through the physical training requirements. Deep down, Jeremy believed Avon had been spared from expulsion because of her father's position and influence. At times, he felt Avon was admitted to the Academy only due to her father's legacy. Many Academy admissions were attributed to one or more of their parents being Academy alumni. Many cadets were expelled, unable to achieve the minimum standards required for advancing to the next phase of their training.

Now it was Jeremy's responsibility to ensure Avon was ready for her second year at the Academy. He remembered the physical exertion he had endured. Looking across the cafe table at Avon, he doubted she could survive the pain and torture she was about to experience. While old enough to be a cadet, all Jeremy could see was a thin, weak, spoiled brat who was overly concerned with her appearance. Avon's hair was perfect, her makeup unblemished, and her nails flawless.

Jeremy knew he couldn’t fail. Avon's expulsion would equate to his own failure and possible discharge from ICE. With every flutter of Avon's eyelashes, Jeremy felt his dreams quickly flying away from him. Everything he had worked so hard for was contingent on the spoiled brat sitting across the table from him. He would rather fight a deadly Zarcon assassin than have this assignment. Where did I go wrong? Jeremy pondered silently. Why me?

After eating half of her lunch, Avon pushed the plate away. You need to eat more than that, Jeremy snarled. If you expect to train hard, we must double your caloric intake.

I’m not training today or tomorrow, Avon snapped. I have to squeeze into my new gown tomorrow, and I will not look like an over-stuffed Mumite.

Jeremy tried not to laugh, thinking of the three-foot-tall Mumite aliens and their roly-poly bodies. The thought of Avon having any fat on her thin body was almost funny.

Are you laughing at me? Avon snarled.

Never, princess, Jeremy replied, rolling his mouth into a fake frown. I can’t imagine you ever being fat.

I want to look my best tomorrow at the party. I’m tired of everyone looking at me only as my father's daughter. I’m a woman now and expect to be treated like one.

Then stop acting like a spoiled brat, Jeremy suggested half sarcastically. Start acting like an adult, and you’ll be treated like one.

I’m not a spoiled brat, Avon pouted.

Jeremy didn’t reply. He raised his brows and pursed his lips. Whatever, he smirked to himself.

You know I’ve never been on a date, don't you? Avon said sadly. Growing up, the boys were afraid of my father. You have seen the reach of his authority. Even at the Academy, I was off-limits. No one wants to piss off General Zadoorian's daughter. ICE officers won’t come near me since dating me would be political suicide. They’re afraid of ending up in the outer rim.

I’m sure your father is just trying to protect you, Jeremy replied, knowing how protective the General was. He had heard the General's speech loud and clear. He had been warned. Avon was off-limits. The General made sure to emphasize it during the briefing more than once. Jeremy knew what his mission was, no more, no less. Getting romantically involved with Avon wasn’t a part of the mission.

Jeremy knew it wouldn’t be a problem. Avon wasn’t his type. She was too prim and proper. They came from two different worlds. Avon was a socialite, and he was nothing but a slum rat who had crawled out of the depravity of poverty. Even as an officer, the two didn’t mix. Jeremy would always be a slum rat.

Avon snarled, And now I suppose you think it’s your job to protect me?

It’s my job to be with you 24/7. It’s my job to get you physically fit for the fall. Since we will be spending so much time together, it’s my job to ensure you stay safe. I will be damned if I lose my commission because of you.

So, I’m just another mission, an assignment?

Yes, princess, Jeremy grinned. It’s precisely what you are.

Jeremy could see the disdain on Avon's face every time he called her princess. My name is Avon. But if it’s too informal for you, you may call me Cadet Zadoorian.

I will stick with Princess, Jeremy smirked. It fits you.

Avon's face turned to stone. Her jaw clenched. Are you trying to make me hate you?

Oh princess, you will hate me with a passion when training commences. You will be searching databases to find new things to call me. I hope you are up to the challenge.

Don’t underestimate me, Captain Hanson!

Never, princess.

Chapter 2

After an awkward and adversarial lunch, the two walked to Avon’s apartment. It was a large apartment, much like a twenty-first-century converted loft with an open floor plan. Several apartments had been eliminated to make way for one large apartment. Jeremy grimaced at the idea of such extravagance.

Most apartments were barely eight hundred square feet due to overpopulation in Lorian City. Jeremy had grown up in a one-room shack with a dirt floor and no running water. Now the apartment Jeremy was standing in was more luxurious than he could ever imagine. He had never seen anything like it before. It was spectacular.

The apartment was furnished with sleek modern lines and furniture in black and white with silver and gray accents throughout the room. The decorations were minimalist, an occasional trinket showing places Avon or her father had traveled. It lacked the warmth and coziness Jeremy had expected. Still, he was in awe.

The apartment was bright, with floor-to-ceiling windows, which provided an abundance of natural sunlight. It also allowed ample opportunity for a sniper from any one of several rooftops nearby to murder the apartment's occupants.

Jeremy frowned, knowing the apartment was unsafe for them to stay in. He was unaware of any kidnapping attempts on the General’s daughter, but he refused to dismiss the risk. Jeremy refused to rule out anything that might end his short military career. The thought of a dishonorable discharge and going back to the slums of Lorian City was shaking him to his core. Maybe he was over thinking everything; maybe he wasn’t. Paranoia wasn’t always a bad thing. Jeremy knew this from experience.

You can use my father's room, Avon announced after checking to ensure her latest purchases had been delivered to her room.

Where is your room? Jeremy asked coldly. I want to see it.

Avon was stunned by his request. What is it to you?

I need to see where everything is. If I’m to protect you, I need to see everything.

Why do you think you need to protect me? Avon demanded, exasperated by Jeremy's overwhelming need to control everything.

Jeremy was equally annoyed. Give me a break, princess and just show me your room, Jeremy barked as if it were an order.

Avon took a deep breath. She wasn’t in the mood for another confrontation. She knew she was safe, but if it meant a moment of peace and quiet while preventing another outburst, so be it. Avon turned on her heel and walked toward her room. Let's get this over with, Avon sneered over her shoulder. Jeremy followed two paces behind her.

Avon's room was equally large, the size of an entire apartment for most families. Everything was stark white; the furniture, the linens, the walls, everything. The same floor-to-ceiling windows covered the entire back wall. Jeremy walked to the windows and looked out. He quickly inhaled and exhaled forcibly through his nose, his lips clenched tight. All he saw was a security nightmare.

Then Jeremy turned. On the walls opposite the windows, he saw floor-to-ceiling shelves covered with toys, dolls, and games from every part of the universe. There were old, antique collectibles and hard-to-find toys. Jeremy was unsure whether to be in awe or disgusted by the blatant display of wealth. Avon was spoiled beyond comprehension.

Jeremy glared at the toys and back toward Avon, unable to form a single word. Growing up, he barely had clothing or shoes. He averaged one, maybe two meals a day. And here on the shelves were artifacts and antiques worth more than Jeremy would earn in several lifetimes.

Avon could see Jeremy’s abhorrence. Most of them were gifts from dignitaries and visiting Generals while I was growing up, Avon tried to explain. They are peace offerings, so to speak, from people trying to stay in Daddy's good graces through me.

Jeremy finally found his voice. And you kept each one?

Why not? Avon asked more like a statement. Some are quite pretty, some interesting, and some are quite valuable. I could sell them and not have to work a day, but I would never do that. In a way, they tell the story of my life. I know who gave me what and when, and where. They are my history, a visual diary if you will.

Jeremy was embarrassed, not because of his initial impression of the collection but because he was staring at the shelves. I have never seen so many toys, he mumbled.

"Of course