Yankee Doodle Sweetheart

By LD Wosar

Can these star-crossed lovers survive a dangerous competition? 

 

Juliette 'July' August

I am a Yankee Doodle Sweetheart, born on the Fourth of July and live what I would consider a rather extraordinary life, besides what's on the surface. I live with my single, wealthy aunt and have a boyfriend I absolutely adore and love to the hilt, my Ari. Boring right? I have a secret too that no one knows about, by day I own a couple of local coffee shops called, 'Perky Bits', by night I am a well-paid assassin or mercenary, whatever you want to call it, whose specialty is sniping with a rifle as big as I am. 

Every year, the QT Associates holds the Annual Patriot Games, where mercenaries are given subjects to assassinate. Brutal, I know it, and as appealing as the purse is - I could never bring myself to enter, until this year when Quentin Thoreau, boss man, entered me without my authorization. I have no choice but to partake and the only way to get out of it is death, running away would lead to becoming a fugitive. 

Aramis 'Ari' D'Augustine

My life is full of lies and love for Jules. She thinks I am a successful web designer, however, I am a well-paid mercenary who dabbles in alchemy, taking my marks out with poison. I only planned to make enough money to live comfortably and make a life with the love of my life, Jules.  Life was normalish until I was thrust into the Tenth Annual Patriot Games. Great, now my secret will be out and I stand the chance of losing the only good thing  in my life. 

Could the pair survive the Games and if they did, would they have the life they always dreamed of? What happens when those in charge of the Games decide to throw in a twist that neither of them ever expected?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: LD Wosar
• Release date: Jul 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201234058

Book preview

ACT I:

SEATTLE’S SWEETHEARTS

One

Juliette July August

June 2026

Breathe in, breathe out. You got this July. It’s not your first contract. I thought as I lay on my back, embracing my trusty M200 Sniper rifle. I always encouraged myself like that with each mark.

I was a coffee shop owner by day, mercenary by night. The latter, I need to be focused and set aside any humanity, not to mention remorse. But then, Quinton Thoreau chose my victims from specific people for their disgraceful actions. Do the marks have remorse for what they do to their victims? Of course not, and neither should I.

My first name is Juliette, which I haven’t been called since birth. Coincidentally, I was born on the fourth of July, my father decided to call me July, whereas my boyfriend calls me Jules.  In school, schoolmates taunted me every day of my childhood because my last name is August, and it's something I’d never live down.

Sadly, my parents are no longer around. When I was ten years old, my parents were killed in a fatal car crash on our way home from Olympia.  It was a fatal car accident when my father hit an icy patch on one of the backroads.  I was ten-years-old and fast asleep while buckled in the back seat of the car. I suffered a broken arm and leg; my parents weren’t so lucky. I miss them constantly.

It was a week away from my twentieth birthday; thoughts of how my aunt Blythe was going to surprise me ran through my head. Every year, she had something up her sleeve. Last year, she flew me, along with her boyfriend, Devon, and my boyfriend, Ari, all the way to Disneyworld in Florida. It was hot and muggy, though a lot of fun. It was also when I lost my virginity to the love of my life. I never told my aunt, but I had a feeling she figured it out.

She is the coolest aunt ever, always so cheerful and caring. As much as I would like to say I aspire to be like her, I can’t see myself sitting in some cozy office overseeing ad execs for some online shopping site. Don’t ask me the name of the company; I don’t remember. I know we live comfortably because my aunt pulls in six figures a year, and I pull in a lot of clout being a very much in-demand mercenary.

My latest target was some pedophilic fucker who lured young girls to be part of his collection of sex slaves. When I was assigned this mark, Marcus Seagram, I was on it quicker than you could say the sick fuck. I had that power and preferred not to personalize a mark.  Why am I sitting atop a 50’s diner canvassing out this sick man? Let me take you on a trip five years ago before my sixteenth birthday. It was how I became what I am today, the best damned mercenary in the Pacific Northwest.

Two

Seattle, Washington - May 2022

Drizzling rain was nothing in Washington State and tonight was no different than any other night. After school, I worked a few hours at a local coffee shop called Perky Bits. I’m sure the owner had other ideas that were inappropriate, but that’s how that guy was. I’m sure that’s how I was hired without a formal interview.

Although my aunt Blythe told me I didn’t need to work, I wanted to. It was my way of buying my food, clothes and not to mention mad money for whatever I wanted to get, in this case, a Ducati Panigale V2 motorcycle. It’s an expensive bike, but I am halfway there to make my dream come true. I worked hard to get my license, as well as my motorcycle endorsement. I borrowed a neighbor’s bike to get that, but I nailed the exam. The idea of me owning a motorcycle makes my aunt nervous, but, in my opinion, it’s no different than driving a car. She disagreed with that; but she accepted my dream to have what I coveted.

The streets were empty at ten o’clock at night, except for a couple cars here and there. The bus was late, which was expected, at least I had social media and music on my iPhone to keep me occupied. Yet, I had this uncomfortable feeling I’d been followed since I left the coffee shop.  I tightened the grip of my baseball bat, with the sense I would be using this for the first time in the six months I’d been working at the coffee shop.

My aunt preferred I carried a can of mace, but I compromised and told her when skeezes see me hold a bat, they tend to leave me alone. Not tonight as I felt the man getting closer to me. I was afraid to look over my shoulder and quickened my pace. He was joined by two others and chatted with the other probable assailants. Looks like we struck gold, men. We gotta pretty one here and I’m hungry for some young pussy.

Oh hell no, these predators intended on violating me and taking away my purity. They wanted to strip away what I hold near and dear until the right man came along to introduce me to that world that only two people in love should share. It’s unrealistic thinking, I know, but it’s my body, it’s my mind, so don’t judge. For Pete’s sake, I was only sixteen and wasn’t ready for that anyway.

I bolted down the street, but these men were fast. I sent them on a goose chase, sprinting down every alleyway and climbing over fire escapes. It seemed the coast was clear and I found a sanctuary behind a dumpster where some homeless guy was sleeping. Peering around the dumpster, the men were at a loss, complaining that they lost their ‘little bunny’. 

Letting out a long, deliberate exhale, I was in solace that I barely escaped an assault that would’ve traumatized me the rest of my life. I crawled from behind the dumpster to be face to face with those disgusting pigs. There are only so many places you can hide, little bunny. One of the men chuckled and the closer he moved toward me, the stench of beer and tobacco sickened me. As he stroked my cheek, I steeled myself and felt his hand make a path from my cheek to my chest. Closing my eyes, I turned my head, while holding my breath at the same time. I had never been more frightened in my life, but at the same time my intrepidness kicked in and I needed to show these hooligans that I was one they didn’t want to mess with.

The one in front of me purred as he started to unfasten his jeans, I’m going to make all your dreams come true.  Ugh, gross, that I doubted, as I thrust the end cap of my bat into his fat gut, knocking him onto the ground. I slipped off my backpack, that was a hindrance, and tossed it aside. The man jumped back up to his feet and charged me, until I dodged out of the way.

I wanted to mess with them a bit, as I circled the three of them reciting the old Abbott and Costello skit, ‘Who’s On First’, which I had memorized. Come on, every baseball fan should familiarize themselves with that skit, as well as ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game.’ Did I mention I am a huge Mariners fan? It’s not relevant to the potential ass beating these three idiots are about to endure, but I wanted to add that little smart ass antic, only to throw them off.

I loved seeing the dumbfounded looks on their faces, but that changed all too quickly and I assumed they grew bored, ready for some action.

One of the men moved behind me, wrapping one arm around my shoulders and I rolled my eyes down to see him fumbling to get something from his pocket. For all I know, it could have been a weapon or maybe just a stick of gum. His flawed thinking gave me time to drive my elbow into his fat gut to break his grip. I swung the bat, pegging the guy on the side of his head. It was safe to say, I hit him pretty damned hard after I felt the spray of his blood mist my face.

I turned slowly on the balls of my feet, looking at the other idiot with a condescending grin when he dropped to his knees, begging for mercy. Do you men normally prey upon young women with the hopes to get lucky? I didn’t expect him to answer me. He held his trembling hands to surrender, but I didn’t feel one hundred percent safe until I knew both men were left wounded and unconscious.

He was backing up though looking past me. I’m certain he was intending to take off, until I was shoved to the side by someone who must have just randomly walked past the alley to see this scenario.

The man snatched my bat from my hand and ordered me to leave. But I didn’t listen, I watched as my guardian angel rushed all three at the same time, swinging my bat and clocking the alleged leader on the side of his head. The other two gave up and scattered out of the alley, as my angel chased after them. I braced myself against the wall, frozen with fear. It was a humbling experience at best, making me reconsider taking the bus anymore. So much for the thought of being independent. I could hear my aunt now, "I told you not to walk the streets at night alone-blah blah blah."  I pulled my phone out of my back pocket with a shaky hand and dialed 9-1-1, with the hopes this doesn’t backfire on me for trying to defend myself. 

*** One Month Later ***

Update on what happened when I called our exemplary servicemen and women. I was there to give my statement and because I was defending myself. Come to find out, one of them had a warrant for his arrest and he got in more trouble for never registering as a sex offender. How I wish there were a better way to get this slime off the streets. There is no offense to the Seattle Metro cops, but the justice system is too lenient on criminals like this. Also, I wish I knew who that was that came to my aid, I’d like to thank him, maybe buy him a free cup of coffee. It’d be free based on the perks of working at a coffee shop.

Anyway, enough about that. It was the same routine as every work night. Count the tills, set the alarm and lock up. After last month, I made sure to have my bat at my side, along with a .22 caliber I had my aunt purchase for me. She offered to buy me a car instead, but I compromised by telling her that I’d be using my entire paycheck on gas, when it was easier taking the bus. Well, it wasn’t so much a compromise, I was stubborn and a glutton for punishment. 

Today was one month to the day when I met the trio of potential rapists, thankful, I never saw their faces again since that time.  Yet, this was one of those times I wished I’d taken my aunt’s advice as paranoia clung to me like a fabric softener sheet.  When I arrived at the bus stop,  I glanced over to notice a man leaning against the awning.  I groaned to myself, feeling it was better to keep my distance from him. I glanced over once more and visions of that night hit me and my eyes widened when it occurred to me who my rescuer was. It was this guy. How strange it was that he showed up back in my life exactly a month later?

Excuse me, sir? I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Admittedly, I was as antisocial as they came since I exhausted all of my social skills at work. Also, I was