Intense: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  Mason just kept right on screaming.

  Emory bounced him, talked to him, walked around with him, but nothing. He made faces and spoke in baby talk, but Mason wasn’t having it. Emory was adorable trying to help, and maybe if I weren’t so stressed and upset I would be able to appreciate it, but Mason’s crying had me on edge.

  Finally, Emory handed Mason back. I rocked him, staring down at him.

  “Does he feel warm to you?” I asked Emory, cocking my head to one side.

  Emory pressed his cheek against Mason’s forehead. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? He either does or he doesn’t.”

  “I don’t exactly have experience with this, Tara.”

  “Okay. Sorry. Just, maybe he’s sick? He does feel warm to me.”

  I felt Mason’s forehead with my cheek again, and sure enough he felt warmer than usual.

  “You’re just upset,” Emory said. “For good reason. But Mason is fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Of course I’m worried,” I said, annoyed with him. He couldn’t understand. How could he?

  Emory didn’t have to raise Mason. He didn’t push Mason out of his vagina, didn’t feed him, change his diapers, didn’t do everything for Mason like I did.

  I couldn’t just sit back and watch Mason suffer. If he had a fever, something was seriously wrong.

  I left the room, bouncing Mason, trying to calm him down. I went upstairs and read to him for another hour, going through every book I had and then moving on to random things on my phone. By the end of the hour, I was getting desperate, and Mason was definitely warmer than he had been before.

  I went back downstairs and found Emory sitting on the couch, his feet kicked up, watching a crappy TV.

  “I want to take Mason to a hospital,” I said to Emory.

  He looked at me. “No.”

  “Emory, he has a fever.” I carried Mason over to him. “Feel.”

  He reluctantly felt him again and made a grunting sound. “He’s warm,” Emory admitted.

  “Hospital. Please. A fever is bad. Mason doesn’t normally cry like this.”

  “No,” he said again. “We can’t go to a hospital. It’s too dangerous. We have to let him pass this on his own.”

  “Emory, he’s a baby. He can’t just fight off infections on his own.”

  “He has to,” Emory said. “I’m sorry. He’s my son too.”

  “No, he isn’t,” I snapped. “You weren’t there. You didn’t raise him. You don’t know what it means to be a father, clearly.”

  He stared at me for a second, his face hard. “I’m sorry. No hospital.”

  “I’m going. You can’t stop me.” I stormed off toward the front door.

  I didn’t even hear him come up behind me. One second I was reaching for the door, and the next Emory was in front of me, blocking my way.

  “Move,” I said.

  “No. Go back.”

  “Move or I’ll make you move.”

  He grinned at me. “Let’s see you.”

  I clenched my jaw, ready to lash out at him. I wanted to hurt him, to hit and kick him. How dare he keep me from bringing my baby to a hospital? Mason was hurting and he was my child, and I had to do everything possible to get him there.

  But then I took a deep breath and let it out.

  “You can stop me now, but I’m not giving up,” I said. “I’m going to get to a hospital. I’m not going to let my son suffer, no matter what.”

  “You realize we have terrorists chasing after us, don’t you?”

  “I know, but you can lose them. We can make it to a hospital.”

  “It’s not safe, Tara.”

  “None of this is safe,” I said. “Mason isn’t safe out there and he isn’t safe if we don’t go.”

  Emory sighed, looking away. “I don’t want either of you to suffer.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  He looked back at me and then touched Mason’s forehead. “Another hour. If he’s still bad in an hour, we’ll go.”

  I stared back at him. “Fine. One hour.”

  I turned and walked back upstairs.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have snapped like that. Maybe this was the wrong decision to make. But I couldn’t live with myself if Mason had something really wrong with him and I’d done nothing to help. I understood that men were after us. I’d seen their dead bodies. I’d seen the violence and the blood. I was absolutely terrified to leave this safe house.

  But that terror just didn’t match the terror I felt when I thought about Mason sick with something that could kill him. That terror was worse, far, far worse.

  One hour and we’d go. I wasn’t going to sit around for a single second longer.

  I rocked Mason in my arms as his screams just kept going and going, ringing in my skull.

  20

  Emory

  I didn’t want to keep the damn kid from the hospital. I was not some monster who liked making babies sick and listening to them scream.

  In any other situation, we’d be out that door. I’d get them to the hospital so fast that they’d forget what it meant to travel. But we weren’t in any normal situation. Leaving the safe house could mean death or even something worse.

  Tara disappeared upstairs and I watched her go, hating every second of it. I wanted to get them to the hospital, but I had to consider the mission. I had to balance the dangers of leaving versus the dangers of staying, and so far it seemed like the right call was to stay.

  Yes, Mason had a fever. But as far as I could tell, it wasn’t a bad fever. He was still crying, which meant he was still conscious and wasn’t too far along. We didn’t know what was wrong with him. It could be something bad, or it could be something totally fine. But I knew for a fact that there was something very, very bad outside that door, and I wanted to keep Tara and Mason from it.

  But I couldn’t keep saying no to her. I’d seen how serious she was in that moment, and I knew she really wouldn’t stop. She would do everything in her power to get to a hospital no matter what. She was a mother trying to protect her baby son, and I didn’t envy any man getting in the way of that.

  This shit couldn’t have come at a worse time. Of course I didn’t blame Mason for getting sick, but it was frustrating. We finally were in a safe space and could wait this whole thing out while my team found Omar and eliminated him, but now it looked like we were going to be forced to take a risk that I really, really didn’t want to take.

  After a half hour of waiting, I could still hear Mason upstairs crying. I pulled out my burner and dialed Travis’s number.

  “Hey, cap,” he said.

  “Travis,” I said. “I’ve got some bad news.”

  “More bad news? You know I fucking love that.”

  “The baby is sick.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear it.”

  “We might need to make a hospital run.”

  There was a pause. “You sure that’s a good idea, captain?”

  “No, not at fucking all, but unfortunately it looks like it’s going to be necessary anyway.”

  “Shit. Okay then.”

  “Think you can be ready to go in a half hour?”

  “I can probably manage that.”

  “What’s your location now?”

  “End of the block. Just did a sweep. We look free and clear.”

  “Roger. We’ll take your car. Grab us in thirty unless you hear from me.”

  “Got it. I’ll map it out.”

  “Good.” I hung up the phone and leaned back into the couch.

  This whole operation had been one big clusterfuck from the very start. I’d gone in with too little backup, gotten too close to Tara, and ended up killing three men in front of her and her parents. Throw a baby in the mix and fucking nothing was going my way.

  But it didn’t matter. I was a fucking SEAL, and we were trained to get the mission done no matter what obstacles got in our way.

  And that was what I planned on doing.

  I kicked my feet up on
the coffee table and listened to Mason’s crying echoing down from upstairs.

  “Buckle up, folks. This might be a wild ride.”

  I grinned at Travis as we pulled out into traffic. Travis was about my height, thinner, with scruff on his face and short-cropped brown hair. His eyes were a bright green, and he had tattoos running up his arms. He was dressed in nondescript black clothing to better blend into his surroundings.

  “Thanks for this, Travis,” Tara said. She was sitting in the back seat with Mason, trying to keep him calm.

  “Thank the captain here. I just do as I’m told.”

  Tara glanced at me but said nothing.

  “Do babies always cry like that?” Travis asked.

  “No,” I said, “which is why we’re making this trip.”

  “Well, I’ll try and be quick. Can’t make a straight line there, though.”

  Travis drove fast, his eyes concentrating on the road. I hated sitting shotgun with nothing to do, but that was my role. Travis was good at his job and would do his best to evade anyone who may have been following us, but there was just no way of really knowing.

  Omar was very good. I doubted he knew where the safe house was, but I was betting he knew the general area where we were staying. If he recognized Travis’s car, we would be screwed.

  Which was why we weren’t taking the Mustang. That car was a little too easy to spot.

  It took us a half hour to get to the closest hospital. Travis took the long way, cutting back once or twice, running red lights, pausing at yellows and then gunning it, basically using every trick in the book. I could practically sense the worry rolling from the back seat, but I couldn’t do anything about it.

  Finally, we pulled up out front of the hospital. “Good luck,” Travis said. “I hear our medical system isn’t the best.”

  I smirked at him. “I’ll call when we’re done.”

  “Later, cap.”

  “Bye, Travis,” Tara said, holding Mason. “Thanks again.”

  He waved and then pulled off.

  Tara didn’t wait. She stormed right into the emergency room, a woman on a warpath. She marched right up to the lady at the reception desk and stared at her, Mason crying loudly the whole time.

  “Fill this out and take a seat,” the woman said.

  “Do you hear my son?” Tara asked her. “He’s in pain and has a fever. We need to see someone now.”

  The woman was in her mid-fifties, with short hair, and looked like she hadn’t gone for a jog in several years.

  “Fill out that form and take a seat,” she repeated.

  I could tell Tara was about to explode on her, so I stepped in. “Excuse me,” I said, flashing her my best smile. “Do you have any specials for veterans?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’re a veteran?”

  “I sure am, ma’am,” I said. “I’m a Navy SEAL.”

  “Wow,” she said. “Very impressive.”

  “Thanks. I’m just hoping we can see someone about my son.”

  She chewed on a pencil, looking at her computer screen. “Doctors are all busy with patients,” she said, “but I can squeeze you in maybe ten minutes from now.”

  “That would be amazing.” I smiled big at her again. “Thanks so much.”

  “Fill out that form and bring it back to me.”

  “Of course.”

  I ushered Tara over to a seat before she could flip shit on that woman. We sat down and I started filling out the paperwork using a false name.

  “Thanks,” Tara said eventually.

  “No problem. Women like that usually respond to the military thing.”

  She just looked away.

  I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Tara was so pissed at me that she couldn’t see the lengths I was going to to make this right. That was fine though. I couldn’t blame her. Mason was sick and she was worried as hell.

  One form and ten minutes later and we were in a back room with a nice older doctor, his hair white as snow.

  “Well now,” he said, holding Mason, “let’s take a look at this little guy.”

  The doc went over Mason, checking his heart, his chest, his back, and finally taking out a little instrument to look inside his ears.

  “Ah,” he said as he looked away.

  “What is it?” Tara asked, worry all over her face.

  “Ear infection.”

  “Ear infection?”

  The doctor nodded, smiling. “Yep. Just an ear infection. His right ear is a little infected. Not too bad. I know the poor little guy is in pain, but the best thing for you to do is just to wait it out. Keep him cool and do your best to distract him.”

  Tara stared at him. “You’re telling me that there’s nothing you can do? He has an infection.”

  “I’m sorry, miss. We just don’t prescribe antibiotics for infant ear infections anymore.”

  “But you can,” Tara pressed.

  “Nine times out of ten, these pass on their own. It’s uncomfortable for the poor little ones, but in the long run this is better for them, helps their immune system.”

  “No,” Tara said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Just keep him calm and wait. If his fever goes up past one hundred and one, come back and we’ll write a prescription.”

  I clenched my jaw.

  All this way, all this danger, and some fucking doctor was telling us that he wasn’t going to help?

  Fuck that. I’d tried fucking hard to make this right. I’d taken a big fucking risk bringing us to this hospital. I was getting this kid some medicine.

  “Doc,” I said, stepping closer to him, “I think you should write him that prescription.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked.

  “For two reasons. One, because I’m going to put two hundred dollars in your hands. Two, because if you don’t, I’m going to break every one of your fingers until you change your mind. Make this easy, doc. Write the script.”

  He stared at me for a second. “Three hundred,” he said finally.

  “Fine. Prick.”

  I reached into my wallet and counted out the bills while the fucking asshole wrote out the prescription. I put the money in his hand, he gave me the script, and we got the fuck out of there before the good doctor remembered his ethics.

  Tara was staring at me as we stood in the parking lot, waiting for Travis.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” she said.

  “Mason needed medicine,” I said. “I got it for him.”

  “Still, that was a lot, and he didn’t really need it.”

  “He did. We’ll stop and fill this on the way back.”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  This whole thing was one damn clusterfuck. Poor fucking Mason was sick, and we were exposed as fucking hell. Not to mention I had just bribed a doctor for some fucking meds, which definitely would get everyone involved in some serious fucking trouble.

  But that was what I was willing to do for her and Mason. It drove me fucking crazy thinking about it, but I would do nearly anything for them.

  I was too fucking close, but there was nothing I could do. I was stuck protecting them, and I was going to do anything to keep them safe.

  Even if it meant doing things that went against what I thought was best.

  I was going to take care of her, like it or not.

  21

  Tara

  I sat down with Mason in my lap on my bed and pressed the syringe of medicine against his mouth.

  “Come on, Mason,” I said. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

  He kept crying, but I managed to get the syringe into his mouth. I squeezed, and he swallowed the liquid. I pulled the syringe out and he continued crying, though less intensely.

  “There you go. All better,” I said to him.

  I knew the antibiotics wouldn’t really work for a day or two, and he wasn’t going to take every dose so easily, but I was happy we’d gotten one down. I felt a l
ittle bit better at least knowing that it was only an ear infection.

  I couldn’t believe how angry at Emory I’d been. As soon as he said that we couldn’t go to the hospital, I’d wanted to kill him. I couldn’t believe someone would stop me from taking my baby to see a doctor. I’d thought he was a monster.

  But that was wrong and I knew it. Emory wasn’t a monster. He was just trying to make the best of an impossible situation. Now that I had a little distance and the crisis was over, I knew that he meant well.

  Especially with how he managed to make things run so smoothly at the hospital. He took control immediately, got us to see a doctor quickly, and even bribed that asshole doctor into giving him the medicine. I was surprised, but I shouldn’t have been.

  Emory was doing everything he could to keep us safe. He didn’t want to see Mason suffering, maybe as much as I didn’t. But he had to balance that with the fact that The Network was still looking for us.

  I felt guilty as I rocked Mason, bouncing him slightly. I felt bad that I had put so much pressure on him, put him in the situation where he had to choose between his mission and being a father. I didn’t know what he would have done if I hadn’t pushed, and honestly Mason probably would have been fine if we hadn’t gone to the hospital.

  But he’d made the decision that I’d wanted him to make. Crazy as it was, dangerous as it was, I wanted to make sure Mason was safe, and Emory had made that same call.

  I wanted to go downstairs and thank him, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Mason. It was getting late anyway, and I could already tell that I wasn’t getting any sleep. I didn’t need to subject Emory to that same thing. Besides, I still had lingering anger about the whole thing.

  I sat upstairs with Mason, reading to him and rocking him, trying to keep him as calm as possible. He ate a little, but not nearly enough, and went back to crying immediately after he was done. Hours slipped by that way, and soon it was nearly two in the morning.

  For some reason, Mason’s crying began to taper off and I could tell he was on the verge of sleeping. I softly placed him down in the crib and watched as he drifted off, and finally, for the first time all day, there was silence.