The Hot Sergeant (Second Chance Military Romance) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #2)

by Alexa Davis

  “I feel like I’m going to pop. I almost wish I would. I’m ready for him to come out. No, I didn’t drive I got a ride with the service.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “I have an appointment at two and it was already noon and Adam hadn’t had time to pick me up yet. It also seems silly for him to drive all the way out to pick me up when he’s already in the city. I just took the car service.”

  “Does Adam know you’re here?”

  “Adam is not my…shit! Okay fine, he is my boss, but he’s not the boss of me. He won’t be mad so stop looking so nervous. I’m pregnant, I’m not an invalid.” I walked toward my office and noticed two things. Carla was not at her desk and there was no activity or noise in the hallway, at all.

  “Where is Carla?”

  “Um…she was running an errand. She’ll be right back.”

  “An errand in the middle of the work day?” That didn’t sound like Carla to me. As a matter of fact, the whole floor seemed eerily quiet. “Where is everyone else?”

  “Busy, busy,” Kyla said. I rolled my eyes and waddled on into my office. Kyla followed me. She was acting all weird and nervous.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  I went over and pushed my chair back about two feet from my desk so I could sit down and there would be room for my belly. I loved this baby growing inside of me from the moment I knew he was there, but I’m ready for him to come out. The doctor says two more weeks. My parents will fly out in one week. I’m hoping if I do a lot of walking, we can compromise.

  “Where’s Nico?”

  “Alex is appearing in front of the grand jury this week… I’m sure Adam told you.” Adam had told me.

  Alex ultimately agreed to testify against everyone involved in the misappropriation of the campaign funds and the murders of Vick and Marjorie. Jack tried to flee back to the U.K. when he heard but the Marshalls had picked him up at La Guardia. The FBI had been working on having his father extradited since he was the ringleader of the whole group but so far they haven’t had any luck. Jack’s father was going to leave his son to take the fall for all of it. It took me some time to come to terms with the fact that my childhood friend had resorted to extortion, theft, and maybe even murder over money that he never really needed. He’s a brilliant man. He’s an attorney. All he ever had to do was work for it.

  “Yeah, he told me.”

  “Nico is in with him right now going over his testimony because Adam couldn’t get out of this EPA thing.”

  “When is Jack’s next court date?”

  “His new lawyer has drawn up a motion to dismiss. He says that the only evidence the state and the feds have against Jack is Alex’s testimony and they want the case dismissed.”

  “Who is his new attorney?”

  “Hal Rogers.”

  I had just opened a bottle of water and taken a drink. I choked on it. “You’re kidding me? Hal is representing one of the men responsible for Marjorie’s death and Adam the other? She has to be rolling in her grave.”

  As it turned out, Jack and his father were more involved in the murders than anyone else. Jack hadn’t actually committed them, but he’d paid people to do it. I shudder every time I think about how close I came to losing Adam because of Jack’s simple jealousy and need for instant gratification. It makes me sick.

  “Poor Adam mumbled something this morning about not being able to get rid of the guy,” Kyla said. She reached up to touch her face and something sparkly caught my eye.

  “What is that on your finger?”

  Kyla looked down at the ring and her whole face glowed. “Nico proposed last night.”

  “Oh my God!” I tried to get up. I was struggling and she saw me so she came to me. She took my hands and helped me stand up and I embraced her as much as I could in my condition. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was going to. This morning has just been crazy…”

  “Kyla!” The sound of Adam’s voice wafted down the hall. Kyla looked nervous again. What the heck is going on? “I should go see what he wants,” she said.

  “Adam! She’s in here with me.”

  Kyla gave me a tight-lipped stare. When Adam walked into the office she relaxed her stare and said, “I’m going to go have some lunch with Nico. Call if you need me.” Adam’s eyes were focused on me.

  “Okay, call me later?” I asked Kyla.

  “I will try,” she said with a smile before she left.

  “I thought you promised to wait for me to come and get you.”

  “I didn’t see that it made a difference. I wasn’t driving. I was going stir crazy.”

  He gave me a sympathetic look and came over around behind the desk and took my hands in his and pulled me to my feet. He kissed my lips and then he bent down and gave my belly a soft kiss. I loved when he did that, it was so sweet. “How is my baby boy today?”

  “He is active,” I said. “How is his big daddy?” I asked with a smile.

  “He’s the luckiest man in the world. I have a wife that is gorgeous, sexy, smart, funny…and I know that you’re going to be the best mom ever to my son that I get to meet very soon. If everything else in my life was taken away at this moment, that would all still be more than enough.” He kissed me softly on the forehead. I reached up and put my hand on the side of his face and asked,

  “Things are going okay with the EPA?”

  “The EPA?”

  “Didn’t you and Mac just have a meeting with them?

  “Oh…yeah, we did.” It wasn’t like Adam to be absent-minded, just like it wasn’t like Carla to run errands during the day. Something was definitely up.

  “Why is everyone acting so weird?”

  “I didn’t notice anyone acting weird.”

  “Why is it so quiet in here?”

  “Everyone is hard at work.”

  “Why is Nico in there prepping Alex instead of you?”

  “You and I had an appointment. I thought I was leaving early to pick you up, so I asked Nico to do it.” As he talked, he was walking us through my office and out into the hall.

  “I’m sorry you had to miss it because of the appointment. I could have handled that. I just want the doctor to ask this child if he’s ever coming out.”

  “Think about it, he’s in his warm, beautiful Mommy’s tummy getting everything he needs, why would he want to come out. It’s cold out here.”

  “Well, I’m ready to see him, and I promise to bundle him up.”

  Adam chuckled and continued to propel me out into the hall way. He was leading me down where the conference room was. I still didn’t see another living soul. Surely everyone hadn’t gone out to run an errand or interview a client all at once. It was never this quiet in here.

  “Adam…” He pushed open the conference room door and reached around to flip on the light. The room came alive with noise and people and color. There was a big blue banner that said, “Welcome to the world Little Lord Hanson.” That’s what our colleagues had taken to calling the baby growing in my belly. All of our colleagues were packed into the room. There were baby decorations and a three-tier cake and a table filled with gifts.

  I rubbed my belly and said, “Look how loved you are little man. Look how many lawyers set aside their billable hours for you. Do you know how huge that is?”

  Adam laughed. I felt him lean down and kiss the side of my neck. “When the boss says put aside your billable hours and go to a baby shower employees jump.”

  “I see that. This is amazing.” I hugged him. “Thank you, baby. I’m going to go in and say hello to everyone.”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Turn around Alicia and let me see my grandson.”

  I turned toward my mother’s voice. I talk to her nearly every day on the phone, but it had been over a year since I’d seen them. First she was sick and then Dad was sick and then I was too pregnant to fly. I’d had a few crying spells over it
recently and as usual, Adam had found a way to make it right.

  This is what love is. It’s not about a business or money. It’s not about being from the same background or believing in all of the same things. It’s simply about caring so deeply about another human being that you will take time out of your day to make sure theirs is special. Love is something that you’re willing to keep fighting for because you know that in the end it’s going to be worth it. It’s always looking forward and not judging the one you love by what’s happened in the past.

  I felt Adam’s arms encircle my waist and he stroked his fingers gently across my swollen belly and buried his face in my hair. This is love. Adam is love and I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

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  STINGRAY BILLIONAIRE: THE COMPLETE SERIES

  By Alexa Davis

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Rory’s Treasures

  Ellie

  “The Louis XV-style double-mirrored armoire is your best bet if you’re looking to impress your guests, and you’ll have more than enough room to store your knick-knacks in the display area,” I tell Mrs. Taber as she’s glancing through the furniture section of the shop.

  Welcome to Rory’s Treasures.

  It would be a thrift store if they created thrift stores for the sole purpose of supporting the owner’s unwillingness to pick up a marketable skill. This shop is Troy’s dream.

  Troy Kramer is my boss and the owner/founder of Rory’s Treasures. To this day, I don’t know who Rory is. Every time I ask, Troy’s only answer is, “He’s the guy I named the shop after,” and then he’ll lock himself in the office the rest of the day.

  That’s why I’m here on the floor when I should be up near the register. Of course, when there’s only one customer, that customer tends to grow in importance fast.

  “This was owned by Louis XV?” Mrs. Taber asks.

  Every time I talk about this armoire, I get the same question. Troy’s been telling me just to say yes so we can get the thing out of here.

  “No,” I answer. “It’s in a style named for him, but don’t let that discourage you. From what I hear, these pieces are highly prized.” Of course, Troy’s the one I heard that from, so who knows?

  “Yeah,” she says, opening one of the doors to the armoire. She says, “I think I saw one in Wal-Mart a while ago.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I say.

  She glances up at me.

  Here is my problem: Honesty’s great, but correcting people is said to be impolite. I’ve read How to Win Friends and Influence People. I fall asleep to it at night. Still, old Dale Carnegie hasn’t quite convinced me about everything.

  “I could have sworn,” Mrs. Taber says.

  “You may have seen a reproduction or something done in the style, but it’s not authentic,” I tell her. “This armoire comes with a certificate of authenticity.”

  I try not to think too hard about the fact that the certificates of authenticity all showed up on the same day. I try even harder not to think about the fact that it was the day after I asked Troy why we didn’t have any for our genuine antiques. The signatures on each certificate do look surprisingly similar.

  “Okay,” she says. “I’m just looking for an armoire, though. Do I need something ‘authentic?’?”

  I know what I’m supposed to say; Troy’s been over it a thousand times like the problem is I just didn’t hear him.

  “You don’t need something authentic, no,” I answer. “Modern, less expensive armoires will look just as beautiful and work just as well. That said, this is a real conversation piece.”

  When there’s no plausible deniability, there’s no plausible reason to deny the truth.

  “In that case, I think I’ll just keep looking,” she says.

  “Ellie!” Troy’s voice comes from the office.

  I don’t know how it is that he always knows, but he does.

  Leaving Mrs. Taber, I make my way to the office doorway, saying, “Yeah?”

  “You did it again, didn’t you?” he asks.

  I shrug and widen my eyes to puppy-dog-levels, saying, “Did what?”

  He lets out a long sigh, and for the first time, I’m noticing that there’s a line of flattened hair on the top of his head, going from ear to ear. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to sell that stupid thing?”

  “You have microphones around the store so you can listen to what I’m telling customers, don’t you?” I ask.

  Tactfulness has never been my strong suit.

  “How many times am I going to have to go over this?” he asks. “Yes, the customer needs the armoire. You can’t find anything like it anywhere. I’m surprised we got one here.”

  “Now, just so I’m clear,” I say, “Louis XV originally commissioned the armoire, but there was a problem with Amazon’s shipping service, and so it got sent to his friend, The Duke of Troy, to sell in his shop in the middle of nowhere, right?”

  “People don’t come in for antiques because they’re cheap; they come here because they can’t find this stuff anywhere else,” Troy says.

  I look behind me at the barren store. Mrs. Taber must have gone after I left her.

  “Troy, people don’t come in here,” I tell him.

  He’s leaning forward as if he’s expecting me to say more on the topic, but my point finally starts sinking in. “So your contention is that because we don’t get a lot of customers, it’s okay if we lose the few we do get?”

  He’s running his fingers through his hair with little, flicking motions, trying to add body to the depressed line of hair where his headphones were. It occurs to me he might not have been spying. Could be he was just looking at porn.

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” I tell him. “I just don’t think we should try to push expensive stuff on people we know can’t afford it.”

  “How do you know she couldn’t afford it?” Troy asks.

  “First off,” I tell him, “the armoire is almost two grand. Second,” I continue, “I know Mrs. Taber. She was my third-grade teacher. Troy, I know you want to think we live in some large town where everybody doesn’t already know everything about everybody else, but—”

  The bell above the shop’s door rings.

  “Why don’t you get out there and see if we can sell something today,” he says. “That’s how businesses stay open: they sell things.”

  I roll my eyes, saying, “Oh, now you tell me.”

  “If you’re not going to bother with what I’ve asked you to do on the sales floor, maybe it’d be best if you just sit up front or do some dusting or something,” he says. “Or are you going to have trouble ringing this guy up if he wants to buy something?”

  With a sigh, I slink from the office doorway. I wonder who I’m going to strong-arm next.

  The shop’s not all questionable antiques. Pretty much anything you’d imagine would be in a thrift store, pawn shop, or antique emporium is in this shop.

  The problem in this town, Mulholland, is that it’s so small, everyone has a job, but it’s hardly ever a job they would have wanted. When people here reach the age of eighteen, they either move away, or they fill out a form with the local job broker, Grant. That’s what I did.

  I’m still not sure if Grant is the man’s first or last name, but I do know that he’s as good as HR for every shop, store, and company in Mulholland. Nobody gets a job without his approval because there aren’t any jobs to be had.

  I guess he’s the only one who knows where to put people where they’ll do the least amount of damage.

  When some
one like me does the stupid thing and decides to stick around Mulholland after graduating high school, Grant’s got to look for somewhere to put them. So, here I am.

  If I didn’t live in the village proper, I wouldn’t have been able to get anything in town at all. I guess I should feel lucky or proud or something, but Troy and I have never seen eye-to-eye when it comes to sales or business strategy or advertising or ethics.

  I don’t know that we’ve ever agreed on anything, now that I think about it.

  Grabbing the feather duster Naomi, my sister, got me on my eighteenth birthday as a gag gift, I set about prettying up the shop. I’m not going to lie to this guy, and Troy’s going to get after me again if I go up to the man and start telling him the truth, so I just keep my distance.

  After a while, though, I come to about where the man is standing, only the next aisle over, and I can’t help but say something. “Are you looking for anything particular today, or just browsing?” I ask.

  “Actually,” the man says, keeping his back to me, “I was hoping you could help me.”

  Oh dear. “Sure,” I answer. “What is it that you’re looking for?”

  “I’m looking for a few things,” he says. “First, I wanted to see if you had anything Fabergé.”

  I hate it when this happens. It’s only ever happened a couple of times since I’ve been here, but this guy seems like someone with an interest in actual antiques.

  “I haven’t seen anything like that around, but let me check with my boss,” I say.

  Troy will never forgive me if I let a big fish out of the shop without telling him.

  “I was holding out some vague hope that you might be able to help me,” the man says.

  “I’d be happy to,” I say, “but I really should check with my boss on the Fabergé. If we have anything like that, he’d—”

  “You don’t have any Fabergé,” he says. “That’s fine, though. I’ve always found his pieces to be frightfully pretentious, though I will admit to having coveted more than one of them in the past. Unfortunately, those pieces are not for sale.”