Billionaire's Holiday (An Alpha Billionaire Christmas Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #17)

by Claire Adams

  Still, their half-hearted efforts couldn't stop us, and we began pouring in through the now-open gates, shooting them down as they ran about in confusion. Now, however, they were beginning to get some semblance of order together, and a defense was mounting.

  “Take cover!” I shouted as one of them got behind a machine gun turret mounted on a tower and started spraying us with deadly heavy machine gun fire.

  “Someone take that son of a bitch out before he takes us out!” I yelled.

  I dove behind a big steel oil drum as the machine gunner started spraying his hail of deadly lead in my direction, and right there I found a trapdoor.

  “Well, this is an unexpected find – and just what I needed,” I muttered to myself as I hauled it open and dropped down into it. It was the entrance to an underground tunnel that ran straight to the heart of the compound – and there I would find the leader of this terrorist cell himself. I needed him alive at all costs; he had valuable information that we in the Coalition needed. While the battle continued to thunder above me, I raced through the tunnel, my firearm at the ready. I was going to capture this guy, and I was going to take him alive.

  Then, out of nowhere, a huge Iraqi jumped out from a hidden alcove. He was too close and too fast; I didn't even have time to take one shot before he had his hands on my rifle. We struggled over it with mad violence, and both of us eventually fell to the ground, where we continued to fight.

  Then, somehow, a knife appeared in his right hand, and he aimed a stab at my stomach, trying to get the knife in under my bulletproof vest. I grabbed his wrist, but he kept pushing, and the blade kept coming toward me, slowly but surely. My arms were burning from the effort, and I was panting like a dog, and using all my strength to hold him, but he was just too big and powerful, and that knife kept edging closer and closer to me... until it broke my skin. I screamed out in pain as I felt the steel sliding into me, slicing through me, inch by inch—

  I woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright in my bed. I was sweating from the nightmare, and I had to take a few minutes to calm myself down. I didn't often get flashbacks or nightmares from the war, but when they did come, they could be pretty intense, as this one had just been.

  My shoulder was aching with a dull pain from the gunshot wound I'd received earlier, and my heart was still hammering from the intensity of the nightmare. I leaned over and checked my phone – it was two o' clock in the morning. I felt groggy, presumably from the drugs Jimmy had given me to help me sleep, but I was more or less awake. I stood, gripped the drip stand, and wheeled it over to the window. I parted the curtains and looked across the street at Vivienne's house. All of the lights were off – I guessed she was sleeping.

  I felt terrible about standing her up, and couldn't help feeling tremendously guilty about how the evening had gone. I really hoped that she would understand why I had done what I had done, but of course, I had been a complete idiot for not taking my phone with me, and I was prepared to accept the consequences of that. There was no excusing that.

  I would go over there in the morning with a big bunch of flowers and some chocolates and ask for her forgiveness. I could only pray that she would give it to me.

  As for now, I knew that I should probably head back to bed, as I needed rest to be able to recuperate from my injury. Hey, at least I had proof that I had actually been out doing what I said I was doing; it wasn't as if she could really accuse me of drinking with buddies or something like that when I had a fresh gunshot wound in my shoulder to prove that I'd been where I'd said I was.

  I checked in on Jane who was sleeping, got a glass of water and then went to lay back down on my bed. I turned off the light and prepared to go to sleep. As I was drifting off, however, I was jolted out of my sleep daze by the sound through the baby monitor – Jane was crying, and she was crying loudly.

  I put the light on, climbed out of bed, and shuffled over to her room again, pulling the drip stand along next to me. I opened the door and put on the light, and was alarmed to see her hair plastered to her head, soaked with sweat. I rushed over to her and put a hand on her forehead. She was burning up.

  “Oh no, oh no,” I muttered to myself. “Jane, my lil' sweet pea, are you okay?”

  “I don't feel good, Daddy,” she murmured between sobs. “Make it stop, Daddy, make the bad feeling stop...”

  I hurried over to the dresser in her room and got a thermometer out and took her temperature. She was at 105 degrees – this was an emergency.

  “We have to go see a doctor now, sweet pea,” I said, my heart racing with panic. “Come on; Daddy's taking you to see a doctor.”

  I didn't have time to get the drip out of my arm properly, so I simply yanked it out, forgetting that Jimmy was asleep in the guest room. Some blood dribbled out from where the needle had just come out, but I figured it would close up quickly enough. I was dressed only in boxer shorts, so I ran into my room, grabbed the first pair of jeans and the first t-shirt I saw, and pulled them on quickly. I slipped my feet into some flip flops – not ideal, but I didn't have the time to lace up actual shoes – and then raced back into Jane's room. I picked her up and bolted out to the garage, not even bothering to lock the house up or tell Jimmy what was going on.

  I hurriedly strapped her into the car seat in my truck, then started it and roared out of the garage, screeching the tires as I careened out of my driveway.

  I raced through the back roads, breaking all of the speed limits and blasting through red lights – I had to get my little girl to the hospital immediately.

  We reached the hospital after a few minutes of frantic driving, and I raced straight into the ER with Jane in my arms. A nurse ran out to see what was wrong.

  “She's running a really, really high fever,” I gasped. “We need help right now.”

  “Alright, bring her through,” she said, hurrying ahead of me. “I'll get a doctor right away.”

  Some more nurses came to assist, and they helped get Jane into a bed and gave her some medicine for the pain and fever, which calmed her somewhat.

  “We'll take it from here, Mr.….?” said the head nurse.

  “Everett James,” I replied.

  “Okay, Mr. James. If you'll kindly see that nurse there to fill out the necessary papers, a doctor will be on his way. Now, has the child's mother been informed of the situation?”

  At the mention of Jane's mother, a bitter taste arose in the back of my throat.

  “She hasn't. I'll call her now, though.”

  I stepped outside into the hallway and got my phone out, breathing in deeply to calm myself before I called Susan – Jane's mother, my ex-wife. When I felt that I was ready, I called her. The phone rang for a while, but eventually she picked up.

  “Everett, what the hell are you doing calling me at 2:15 in the morning?”

  Her voice was slurred, and the sound of thumping music was loud in the background; I guessed that she was drunk. Well, that didn't matter – her child, our child, was seriously ill. I decided to simply cut straight to the chase.

  “I'm in the ER. Jane is very, very ill.”

  “Oh, uh... what's wrong with her?”

  “Does it matter? You're her mother! Get over here now!” I growled, feeling anger rising quickly inside me.

  “Jeez, alright, no need to get worked up about it. I'll be there later.”

  “No, not later, now, damn it!”

  “Fine. What hospital are you at?”

  I told her and she hung up, and I felt like throwing the damn phone across the room and smashing it, but I kept my composure and forced myself to remain calm.

  I filled out the papers and went to the waiting room and sat, feeling angry and impatient. The dull pain in my shoulder from the gunshot wound was also throbbing, but that I could handle – it was Jane's mother's indifference that was really getting to me.

  After around half an hour, Susan and her boyfriend, Rick, showed up. Susan was as pretty as ever with her big, chestnut eyes and long, flowing bro
wn hair, and she had a killer body too, which she was gratuitously showing off in a skimpy cocktail dress. This, along with her heavy makeup, told me that she had just come from a nightclub or bar or something. Rick looked pretty wasted. He too was dressed to the nines, but with his receding hairline and chubby belly, he just looked like someone who was refusing to accept that he was no longer a 21-year-old – which, as a 36-year-old, he definitely wasn't.

  “Glad you could finally make it,” I said to Susan.

  “Look, I don't feel like dealing with your bull crap right now,” she said. “Just tell me what's wrong with the kid and whether we have to stay here or not.”

  “What's wrong with the kid? The kid?! She's your daughter, Susan; your daughter, damn it! You could at least say her name.”

  She rolled her eyes melodramatically.

  “Fine. How's Jane?”

  “Not good, not good at all. She's running a fever of 105 degrees.”

  “Yeah, that's not good.”

  At that moment, a doctor came out to speak to us.

  “Are you the parents of Jane?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “I'm her father, and this is her mother.”

  “Alright. Well, I have some bad news. Jane seems to have picked up a very serious stomach infection. We've given her a strong dose of antibiotics, but this infection is really giving her immune system a rough time. I would recommend that you stay here tonight. We're moving her into a room. There’s a recliner and a bench in there, they're not the most comfortable things to sleep on, unfortunately, but it can be done.”

  “Oh man,” whined Susan. “I don't want to sleep on a hospital bench.”

  “Are you... are you intoxicated, miss?” asked the doctor.

  “We've, uh, we've had a few drinks tonight,” replied Ricky.

  “You know what,” I said. “You two just go home and sleep it off. I'll stay here with Jane tonight. Go, just go. I'll call you in the morning.”

  “Oh uh, alright, but call me,” mumbled Susan. “Come on, Ricky, let's go.”

  “Uh, bye, Everett,” mumbled Ricky as he and Susan stumbled out.

  I stared at them in angry silence as they left, and shook my head. Still, I managed to stay relatively calm.

  “The child's mother is not particularly responsible, is she?” muttered the doctor.

  “No, she's not. But anyway, doc, please take me to Jane. I'd like to be with my daughter now.”

  “This way, Mr. James, this way...”

  Chapter Eleven

  Vivienne

  “So what are your names?” I asked the guys as we stood up to follow them to the dance floor. “I'm Vivienne, and this is my friend Angie.”

  “I'm Nick,” said one. He had broad shoulders, a strong jaw, deep-set brown eyes and short dark hair that was stylishly cut.

  “And I'm Paul,” said the other. He was powerfully-built, with muscles bulging through his dress shirt. He was darkly tanned, and this made his bright blue eyes stand out even more. His blond hair was also fashionably cut and styled.

  “And uh, how old are you guys, if you don't mind us asking?” asked Angie, smiling flirtatiously.

  “I'm 22,” Nick said.

  “And I'm 23,” Paul replied.

  I couldn't help but chuckle; these were some young guys.

  “So are you guys out cougar hunting or what?” asked Angie with a wink and a smile.

  “Cougars?” Nick laughed. “You girls are our age. Don't be ridiculous.”

  “Really?” I asked. “You guys think we're the same age as you?”

  “No older than 22, I'm certain of that,” replied Paul, his perfect white teeth glowing in the UV light.

  “Alright, yeah, we're 22,” said Angie, throwing a wink my way.

  “Ha! I knew it!” exclaimed Nick. “Come on, trying to pull that 'cougar' crap on us! Lame joke, ladies, lame joke. Now, let's get downstairs and have some fun on the dance floor.”

  “But first,” interjected Paul. “We have to buy you ladies drinks. What are you having?”

  “I don't know if I can handle anymore,” I said, leaning over to Angie and whispering in her ear.

  She waved a dismissive hand my way.

  “Oh come on, it's Friday night! You don't have anywhere to be tomorrow. And do I need to remind you about the jerk who stood you up earlier tonight? Come on, Viv, if you give up and call it quits now, he wins! You'll just go home and end up feeling miserable about the whole thing. I say, let's let these hot young things buy us another drink, and then we'll get down with them on the dance floor.”

  “I dunno, Angie, I'm just... I don't like drinking that much, you know, and I'm already tipsy...”

  “Yeah, and you're probably feeling like you're some unattractive bag after jerk-face stood you up earlier. There's nothing that'll give your self-esteem a boost like a hot, younger guy drooling all over you and making you feel like you're a goddess. Trust me on this.”

  I sighed. She was right, in a way; I was feeling terrible about the fact that Everett had stood me up earlier, and yes, despite how good I knew I looked all dolled up, some reassurance from an attractive guy certainly wouldn't hurt matters.

  “Alright,” I said. “Let's do this.”

  Angie beamed a broad grin at me.

  “Perfect. You're gonna have such a great time, Viv, you really are.”

  She then turned to Nick and Paul.

  “I'll have another Long Island Iced Tea, please,” she said. “And so will my friend.”

  “Coming right up,” Nick said. “Paul will go get the drinks. Now, would you two like to follow me down to the dance floor?”

  He took Angie's hand in his and led her downstairs, with me following along behind them.

  “The night is only just beginning, ladies!” he said, and with that, we made our way to the dance floor.

  The music was loud, and the bass was so deep I could feel it pulsing through my insides. This wasn't the sort of environment I liked being in, to be honest, but it was good to have a distraction like this after what had happened with Everett earlier.

  Nick and Angie started dancing together, and it was obvious that Nick had pretty good rhythm and a set of pretty fancy moves in him. He and Angie started moving closer and closer together, and I could see that she was into him.

  Suddenly, someone tapped on my shoulder, and I turned around and saw Paul standing there with a couple of drinks. He handed me one of the Long Island Iced Teas and then gave the other to Angie.

  “Thanks!” I said with a smile, sipping on it immediately. This one felt particularly strong, and to be honest, I wasn't entirely sure whether I'd actually be able to finish it.

  “How is it?” Paul asked as he started to move with the beat of the music across from me.

  “Very strong,” I replied with a laugh.

  “Just how it should be then,” he replied, grinning suggestively. “And that's not the only strong thing around here,” he continued. He flexed his muscles, which looked as if they were going to rip through his shirt.

  “Whoa, don't do that too much,” I commented with a chuckle. “You don't wanna rip that shirt to shreds.”

  He grinned lasciviously.

  “Or maybe I do. Girls always prefer me without a shirt,” he joked.

  “Uh, let's keep your shirt on in here, I think,” I replied. He was very obviously hitting on me, and maybe it shouldn’t have, but it made me a little uncomfortable.

  “Sure, I can keep it on in here. But you'll really enjoy taking it off me later; I guarantee that. And you're gonna love what you find under it. But there's something else on my body that you're gonna love even more.”

  I laughed uncomfortably. “Oh, I don't think anything like that is gonna happen,” I said, sipping on my drink.

  “You say that now,” he countered. “But you haven't even given me a chance yet.”

  He moved in closer to me, dancing with slick, sensual rhythm. Admittedly, he was crazy attractive, and his dancing was incre
dibly fluid and sexy, but I wasn't interested. To tell the truth, as much as Everett had hurt me by standing me up, I still couldn't get him off my mind.

  “Come on, girl,” he said, grinding himself against me. “Move with me, feel the rhythm of the music. Feel the rhythm of my body, against your body...”

  The song changed and a Latin-infused tune came on, very sensual and sexy with its slow, hypnotic rhythms and beats.

  “Mm, this is my kinda jam,” Paul murmured as he pressed himself against me and started grinding on my thighs with his groin. He slipped his hands down to the small of my back and pulled me almost forcefully against him so that my crotch was pressing against his. Then he started grinding and rubbing aggressively against me and moving his hands up toward my breasts.

  This was the last straw. I'd had enough. I pushed him away and shook my head, glaring at him.

  “No!” I snapped. “I hardly know you! That's not okay, alright?”

  The expression on his face morphed from one of lust into one of anger. “There's no need to be such a stuck-up bitch about it,” he snarled. “Hell, every girl in this club wants to be with me. You should be feeling privileged that I'm giving my attention to you.”

  “Then I suggest you go grind on one of them,” I said as politely as I could muster.

  I looked across at Angie. She was grinding eagerly with Nick on the dance floor and seemed like she was totally into all of this.

  “Angie!” I said in her ear, “I don't like this. I want to go.”

  She looked over at me. “Are you crazy? These smokin' hot guys are totally into us!”

  “Look, I'm not comfortable. I really want to go; I've had enough clubbing for one night,” I told her.

  “Are you okay taking a taxi by yourself?” she asked. “Sorry, it's just that... I really like Nick, and I'm having a great time.”

  I started feeling guilty. I didn't want to ruin Angie's night just because I wasn't having a great time. I didn't really feel safe taking a taxi by myself, but again, I would feel terrible wrecking Angie's night, and I didn't want her to resent me for it.