Forbidden Delivery (Galaxy Smugglers Book 1) Read online

  Forbidden Delivery

  Galaxy Smugglers series Book 1

  By:

  Amelia Wilson

  Table of Contents:

  Invitation From The Author

  Also By Amelia Wilson

  PROLOGUE:

  CHAPTER 1: ABDUCTED

  CHAPTER 2: WRECKED

  CHAPTER 3: FOR SALE

  CHAPTER 4: SAFEHOUSE

  CHAPTER 5: A HIKE

  CHAPTER 6: EVEN

  CHAPTER 7: ROOFTOP

  CHAPTER 8: DELIVERY

  CHAPTER 9: ALONE AT LAST

  CHAPTER 10: WIT

  EPILOGUE

  Preview: Trials of Love Series Book 1

  Copyright © 2018 by Amelia Wilson

  All rights reserved.

  http://ameliawilsonauthor.com/

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Invitation From The Author

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  If you would like to participate by volunteering to read advance copies of my latest books, and leaving an honest review on Amazon, please sign up for my email list here: JOIN NOW! I contact subscribers through email when each book is ready for review. You will be under no obligation, and can accept of decline on a book by book basis.

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  ∞ Amelia ∞

  Also By Amelia Wilson

  A RIZER PACK SHIFTER SERIES:

  Love Beyond the wall

  Sight of Love

  Claimed by Love

  In Love with the Enemy

  Love for you Alone

  A Rizer Wolfpack Series BOX SET

  RUNE SERIES:

  Rune Sword

  Rune Master

  Rune Hunter

  Rune King's Daughter

  Rune Romance Complete Series BOX SET

  SENSUAL ABDUCTION SERIES

  Aeon Captive

  Aeon Fugitive

  Aeon War

  Aeon Ending

  Sensual Abduction Series Box Set

  UNBEARABLE ROMANCE SERIES

  Bearly Deniable

  Hunting for Love

  The Soul of a Bear

  UnBearable Romance Series

  THE ADNA PLANET SERIES

  Baston

  Sca

  Ruby

  The Adna Planet Series Box Set

  THE BLUE FALLS SERIES

  Rival Love

  Strong Love

  Magic Love

  PHOENIX RAISING SERIES:

  Awakening

  Ignition (July 18)

  WICKED VAMPIRE SERIES:

  A Chosen Fate

  A Dark Truth

  A VAMPIRE IN DISGUISE SERIES:

  A Friend in Love

  A Witchy Girl

  A Final Game

  A Vampire in Disguise Box Set

  Others...

  To Catch A Killer

  The Alien Surrogate

  Alien Message

  Wild Winter

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  Website: http://www.ameliawilsonauthor.com/

  Twitter: @AmeliaWilsonB

  Instagram: @ameliawilson.author

  PROLOGUE:

  BECCA

  People always say the sky is the limit. But, as I look out at the stars peppered across the Grand Canyon, twinkling by the thousands, I almost believe there’s so much more out there. Maybe there are thousands of skies, and here I am staring at just this one. I hate getting so philosophical and whatnot in these times, especially when I’m trying not to think about the deeper parts of my life. However, I’ve just had half a bottle of rum and I’m pretty buzzed. I kind of don’t care if I’m thinking about something as trivial as the sky or something much darker, such as the events that happened earlier this year. I’m hoping the rum will take care of the latter.

  I turn up the little thrift-store radio beside me and take another swig out of the bottle. The epitome of glamor, I know, but I’ve grown a little too comfortable in my own company since starting my adventurous, across-the-country, van lifestyle.

  I guess I should clear some things up. Earlier this year, I was almost the editor of “Got That” magazine. I was almost the proud owner of a loft in SoHo. I was almost the wife of Benton Sinclair. He’s one of New York’s up and coming chefs, who’s breaking out into the world with his ridiculous Italian-fusion concept or whatever that restaurant was supposed to be that he was always rambling on about. I guess if people like their spaghetti deconstructed, with individual noodles hanging from metal rods, then that’s their business. Not for me I guess, which is probably the reason that Benton is out there, right now, with his sous chef, cooking up all kinds of romance together. Am I bitter? Yes, about as bitter as the liquor in my mouth. But, things haven’t been too bad since I sold everything and bought a secondhand van. It’s a little rusty, but at least it doesn’t nag me about “being more feminine,” all the time.

  I check my watch. It’s almost midnight now; probably time to check my telescope again. Since I’ve been on the road, I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping under the stars, which has really given me a chance to get in touch with my nerdy space side a bit more. And to think; I used to be so careful about not letting it show. Now that I’m out here on my own, I’m free to be as nerdy as I want. Still, there’s something comforting about looking at the stars. Maybe it’s because they’re always sparkling up in the sky, without apartments or fiancés, or cranky bosses demanding a new article about pearl-colored tubs. Seriously, was there was ever anything trendy about pearl-colored tubs; can we be honest here?

  It’s so peaceful out in the open like this. It helps me forget about the stresses of my past city-life, where it always seemed like a person struggles, just to survive. It’s also comforting to know that I can’t really get hurt out here. I mean, there are still cougars, coyotes, and maybe a psychopath with a machete lurking, but there’s nobody that can break my heart. It’s definitely cheesy to think about, yes; but it’s true. Since I’ve been on my own, I’ve grown accustomed to my own company, and realized that, at this point, I’m probably the best I’m ever going to get. I went through a lot of hurt from Benton, and I’m not exactly keen on reliving anything like that ever again.

  I lean in to check the lens of my telescope, which, luckily, I had also swiped while thrifting in the south. I’m able to find the North Star, Orion and his belt, and the other usual favorites. I pan across the horizon, adjusting the tripod and the focus to whenever I want.

  Suddenly, a white light pierces the eyepiece, blinding my right eye. A curse flies from my mouth and I jerk back, almost busting my ass on the top of the canyon. The light is still there, stretching across the sky. It looks like a shooting star, but it’s traveling much slower than the ones I’ve seen before. This one is a bright comet, with a long tail, and it glimmers with a strange purple and green color as it soars towards the horizon. I curse again under my breath for leaving the camera in the van. This would be the perfect opportunity to get one of those UFO photos in the paper or something. As I run to grab it, I hear a thundering crash echo out from the canyon below, almost like a dump truck back in New York, rattling down the street. Did the comet just land right below me? I could have sw
orn it was close enough to hit my van.

  I run - well, mainly stumble - towards the edge of the parking lot, to look down into the winding canyons below. The height is dizzying, mainly because I’m still a little drunk. I clutch the railing that separates me from a sudden death on the jagged rocks below. The depths look particularly menacing at night, with nothing but shadows to fill them. If the comet has landed down there, there’s no way I am going to hike down there in safety, to check it out, tonight. My curiosity is high, but my desire to not get eaten by something definitely keeps me close to my van. I can’t tell if it’s just my eyes adjusting to the darkness, but I can just make out the shimmer of a strange purple light, almost pulsating, below in the canyon. It’s so faint though, I blame my sighting on the splotch that burned into my retina from the telescope.

  I pack up my telescope and my radio for the night; a little disappointed I wasn’t able to get a picture of the comet. I climb into my van, where I’ve converted the backseats into a comfortable sleeping space. I spread myself out along the old blankets and crazy-patterned cushions that don’t match. They’re, some of the leftover items I kept from my big move. It’s a little snug in here; definitely not the kind of place to have a romantic encounter, but then again, that’s also kind of the point of being out here. I’m taking this trip to take a break from my life. No romance, no distractions, just some quality ‘me time’. I repeat this over and over in my mind, like a mantra, as I settle under my fluffy duvet to let my wild night of drinking send me to sleep.

  I’m awoken abruptly by the van doors rattling. I sit up in a confused groggy state, my eyes still heavy from sleep. What time is it? Surely it’s not a park ranger coming to give me a hard time about where I’m parked. I hate it when that happens. I grab my metal softball bat, my state-of-the-art security system, and inch towards one of the doors. The rattling persists, becoming more violent. Someone’s desperate to break in.

  I decide to wait until they pass by, but they won’t stop. Finally, the doors are flung open and I’m face-to-face with a hooded figure. The hood is an immediate red flag, and I am instantly on the defensive. I’ve haven’t once encountered an intruder in these past few weeks of traveling. I watch those scary crimes shows all the time, and now I fear that I’m about to become a part of one. I scream as I hit the figure with the bat.

  “Ow!” a low voice cries out; not very menacingly for a hooded figure.

  They lunge towards me, and the two of us struggle on the space by the middle of my van. I go for the eyes, like they teach you in self-defense class, and the attacker falls back, crying out in pain, again. I try to duck aside, but they recover, grabbing me and flipping me over onto my back, on the ground, and putting me in a headlock. Before I can even retaliate, I feel a heavy plastic mask being stretched over my face, almost like an oxygen mask. I try to scream, hoping somebody can hear me out here, but my screams are muffled by the thickness of the mask.

  “Gods, I didn’t expect you to give me this much trouble,” the voice says, annoyed.

  I can taste something sweet in my mouth and I hear a faint hiss. A pink gas seeps into the mask and my eyes widen in panic. I try to hold my breath but it’s already too late. My body feels heavy all of a sudden, as if someone had set a weight on my chest. I feel woozy, and I can’t fight it. I’m able to get one last glimpse of my attacker, a weird look of purplish skin, covered in dark markings, and then I succumb to a deep, deep sleep.

  CHAPTER 1: ABDUCTED

  BECCA

  I wake up with one of the worst hangovers ever. It feels like my entire body is rumbling; my stomach doing backflips. My vision blurs and blends until I can finally make out where I am. To my horror, I find that a strange looking device has me trapped in what looks like an airplane seat. It is like a set of high-tech handcuffs. I’m even buckled into this seat and everything.

  I struggle against the binding on my wrist, still feeling nauseous from my experience with the strange gas and the hooded figure. Who was that? I didn’t see their face, but I remember a hint of purple skin peeking out from their sleeve. Definitely not something I’ve seen before. A machete-wielding maniac would at least have human-colored skin, right? Whoever, or whatever, they were, they are going to be in for some real payback the next time I see them.

  I check the rest of my surroundings, realizing that the rumbling sensation I’m feeling isn’t from my hangover. Instead, I appear to be inside some kind of flying mechanism…a plane? It’s the weirdest plane I’ve ever been on, that’s for sure. Buttons of all colors adorn the walls, along with panels showing the temperature and what appears to be the storage capacity. All around me are crates and various boxes, most of them marked with strange writing that I don’t recognize. Multicolored fruit spills out of one of them as the plane takes a sharp swerve. I swerve right along with it, but luckily the seatbelt keeps me locked in place, stopping me from flying around any further. It doesn’t do much to protect me from the other things that weren’t buckled down in this room. I cry out as a large statue of a creature of some kind slides past the boxes of cargo, right towards me. I curl up into a ball the best I can, and the statue slips by me, knocking into the armrest of my seat and cracking into pieces as it hits the wall.

  I try to lean out as far as I can. Through the aisle, between the cargo, I can see a handleless door, at the far end of the room. I need to get out of this plane, even though I’m not exactly sure how. Hell, I’ll skydive if I have to, if it means staying out of the hands of a real creep.

  The door opens, and I shrink back into my seat, taking a small peek to see who, or what, is coming into the room. I recognize the cloak of the person as they sprint down the aisle, but their hood is still up, obscuring their face. They stop at my seat, looking at the shattered statue behind me.

  “Damn! That was one of a kind!” he cries out. Judging by how deep his voice sounds, I am going to assume it’s a male that’s captured me. The plane hits another wave of turbulence, shaking the entire room and everything in it.

  “Who are you?” I ask, clutching onto my seat as if it’ll keep me separated from my assailant. The hood turns towards me, and I can see a pair of pale-green eyes peering out from above a dark cloth covering his mouth.

  “I have to get you out of the cargo hold,” he says, annoyed, “No use keeping you back here if you’re going to be damaged goods.”

  “Damaged goods? Excuse me?” I say, turning my sass levels up to full volume. The hooded figure shakes his head as he leans down to detach my hand from the armrest.

  “Earth girls,” he sighs. He punches in a code on the device, and I make sure to take note of which buttons he pressed, despite the fact that they’re all symbols instead of letters or numbers. “Come on,” he says, “We’re going up to the cockpit.”

  What kind of plane are we on anyway? I don’t have any more time to inspect it as I’m led through the automatic door and into a cramped hallway. There are only a couple of other doors in the wall, one of which looks like a tiny bathroom, and the other looks like a makeshift bedroom of some kind. It reminds me of the one in my van, someone making something cozy out of uncomfortable circumstances. Whoever my captor is, they are certainly loaded if they can afford a plane like this. It’s not until we get to the cockpit that I realize I’m not on a plane…

  I almost collapse as I look out at an endless sea of stars. There’s no Grand Canyon underneath us. No parking lot asphalt. There are just stars and more stars; an endless void of them, spilling out from all sides. I’m on a ship, a spaceship! I also notice that the turbulence we were having isn’t turbulence at all. Instead, I see dark brown rocks floating about in all directions, and in all shapes and sizes…asteroids.

  “Great, it’s getting even thicker out over there,” my captor says, attaching my other handcuff to a railing and leaving me behind so he can grab onto the steering wheel at the front of the cockpit. He weaves us through the asteroids, and my stomach churns with each twist and turn. I try to grab onto something,
even though my hands are chained together with the same device as before. I look at the buttons closely, examining where some of the paint has rubbed off a bit on some of the symbols. Trying my best to remember, I press each one, in the same order that I saw the hooded figure do it. It’s a little hard to do as the ship careens from side to side, and throws me off balance.

  There is a small beep and I’m finally set free, as the device clunks onto the floor clumsily. I look up in a panic, wondering if I was heard. Luckily the figure is too distracted trying to keep the ship in one piece. I look around for any sort of escape route. There’s a small door to my right, and through the window I can see something that looks like a miniature cockpit inside. Maybe it’s an escape pod? Whatever it is, it could be my ride home. But there’s a problem. Next to the door is a green panel with the outline of a handprint. Hoping for any stroke of luck, I put my hand on it. It flashes red, rejecting me. There has to be some way to get inside, maybe a key. I don’t have much time, though. I might have to do things the hard way. As I examine my captor for any sort of key, I discover that he has something familiar hanging from his waist. My metal softball bat! I’m surprised he even thought it was important enough to take with him.

  I inch myself closer to him, making a hasty plan to grab the bat from his waist and deliver a solid blow. Another hit from a meteor violently rocks the ship, however, sending me tumbling over onto the ground.

  “This is Falax, reporting to King Mezzias,” the hooded figure yells over the blaring of a siren, as the ship announces that our shields are dangerously low. “I have the cargo as requested but we are trapped in a thick asteroid belt, outside of Gemma Seven!” Radio static cuts through, mumbling something unintelligible, almost like an alien language. “Sending current coordinates. Further information will be disclosed upon landing. Location to be determined, but most likely position two, nine, seven-“