Feisty Heroines Romance Collection of Shorts

by D. F. Jones

  “Yes, sir.” He parked the SUV and ran to the sliding glass doors of the hospital.

  Leaning against the brick wall at the entrance, Alfred shook his head. “Rookie, be careful, or she’ll eat you alive.”

  Spencer sneered without comment. He checked the kiosk for the Pediatric CCU and took the stairs two at a time.

  At the nurses’ station, a young man looked up and chuckled. “You’re the newbie? Don’t feel bad, Dior craves independence.” He pushed away from his desk and said, “Come on, honey, I’ll take you to her—only one way in here and one way out. I’m on her dad’s payroll too.” He pointed to the double-paned window. “This is Dior’s sanctuary. She loves the preemies. She has a gift.”

  Spencer’s racing heart slowly calmed. He’d been near to hyperventilating. Then, he saw her with the wee babe in her arms. She sang, but he couldn’t hear the words. At that moment, he no longer wanted to throttle her, but he fell hopelessly in love with her. Someone with the patience to care for infants, especially ones in a precarious state, was akin to the angels.

  She glanced up and locked eyes with his. He couldn’t explain it, but he understood her. She didn’t know her ex was planning to kill her. He watched her go to each one—holding, singing, and rocking them.

  He was jealous. He wanted to be in her arms.

  Another nurse stepped up to him and said, “She’s special. Only wish her dad knew it.”

  He looked at the nurse as she entered the room. Dior threw up one finger, then took off the surgical garb and exited the room.

  “I’m sorry, Spencer. That was a mean thing for me to do to you. My father is slowly killing me. I have a nursing degree with a specialty in pediatrics. This is my calling, and he thinks it’s beneath me. Can you imagine?”

  He dragged his hand over his chin. “I do not know you or him. I am sure he thinks he’s protecting you. Have you talked with him?”

  “Talk to him? Ah, yeah, about a gazillion times. He’s old school. Hey, wanna grab a drink?”

  “I’m on duty.”

  “Then, I’m calling a couple of my besties. You’ll take me home to change, then pick up my girls and drive us to Excalibur.”

  “I—I,” he stammered.

  “My dad is out of town on business, and this girl needs to party.”

  Spencer would call Ryan after he took Dior home. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t crossing some unknown boundary.

  God, he wished the Vegas fight was tomorrow.

  He knew getting too close to Dior wouldn’t be good for either one of them.

  But all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and give her anything and everything her heart desired.

  Chapter 6

  Dior

  Dior couldn’t get her mind off Spencer. The way he watched her with the babies pulled at her heartstrings—something no man had ever done before. His piercing gray eyes seem to reach her soul. That scared her.

  And OMG! He’s so hot too.

  There was more to Spencer than a bodyguard, and she’d enjoy finding out more about him at least while it lasted. The one constant in her life, nothing lasted long in her world, and people disappeared.

  Dior chose a sexy black dress with red strappy high heels. She loved dancing and spending time with her friends. She sent a quick text to Candance and Jillian, laying down the ground rules about Spencer.

  He waited at her bedroom door. She could definitely get used to seeing him there. His eyes widened, then he diverted his glance.

  “It’s okay if you like what you see,” she said. “Believe me. We have little time together, and I intend to make the most out of it.” She slid her arm through his and left the house.

  Alfred and Peter followed two car-lengths behind them.

  After picking up her friends, Spencer drove them to Excalibur. Her posse and bodyguards drew attention from the line formed at the door, which they bypassed.

  The club’s security manager ushered them to a private table reserved for her on Friday nights. The swanky club had black and gold interiors, crystal chandeliers lit low, and pumping beats. She and the girls slid into the black leather sofa styled seat while Spencer stood behind them, his broad shoulders straight. His eyes searched the room for what she assumed were potential threats.

  “Spencer, please join us.”

  Candance and Jillian said in unison, “Please, Spencer.”

  He had a device in his ear, which she knew coordinated with Alfred and Peter. “Miss Ford, I am on duty.”

  “He’s on duty,” Candance said with a pout.

  Jillian bounced and said, “I’ll be your duty.”

  Dior rolled her eyes.

  The waiter immediately brought over chilled Armand de Brignac Rosé with Waterford crystal flutes. He popped the cork and poured the bubbling liquid then handed each one a glass. He also left a bottle of Don Julio Tequila with shot glasses with a small platter of lemon and lime wedges. “Would you ladies like a menu?”

  “Not tonight, Ben. I’m on a liquid diet. Thank you.” Dior nodded.

  She turned to her friends and said, “Here’s to my new and thoroughly handsome bodyguard.”

  Spencer smirked.

  Her friends said, “Here’s to Spencer.”

  The night of celebrating became a dizzying blur of drinks and dancing. All the while, Spencer stayed glued to Dior. She liked him, and he smelled good too. He watched her so intently it warmed her inside and out.

  People packed the club and the noise level beyond loud to a steady roar mixed with a techno beat. The thrumming rhythm reverberated in her ears.

  Dior noticed a tense change in Spencer. “Dance with me.”

  He said, “Let’s wait here for a moment.”

  She pulled his face toward hers. “Dance with me.” She bit her bottom lip.

  He glanced around the room, then took her elbow and escorted her to the floor. He shouted, “You are distracting me from my job, and this place is too crowded to let my guard down.”

  She knew he wanted her by the heated look in his eyes. “Spencer, for one dance, lower your guard and concentrate solely on me.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do. You don’t understand, Dior.”

  “Then enlighten me.” She pressed against the length of him and moved around his body, trailing her fingers across his broad shoulders to the thick muscular biceps, then she slipped her hands inside his coat and felt a gun.

  She stepped back. Her eyes went wide. “You can’t have that in here. They will arrest you.”

  His lips pressed into a small thin line. “Dior, you’re in danger.”

  “What?”

  “Follow me.” He took her hand and pulled her through the crowd into the back near the kitchen and back exit. “You have a price on your head. I could die tonight for telling you, but you need to understand I am here to protect you.”

  “Who? Why?” She fell against the wall. The prospect of death instantly made her sober. “It’s Roger, isn’t it. That gutless bastard put a price on my head.”

  “Your father beefed up security. Roger needed your father’s power and his money. When you broke it off, he got desperate. He’s aligned himself with the cutthroat Russians. He owes them big money. You were his way out. Dior, he threatened to kill you if your father doesn’t bail him out.”

  She blinked several times. “So, you’re not a regular bodyguard.”

  “I will kill anyone that tries to harm you.”

  Silence.

  The music, the crowd, the lights seemed to fade away. Without any physical touch, Dior and Spencer locked into a hypnotic yet tumultuous embrace. The physicality of the connection similar to the push and pull of magnet to steel.

  Spencer broke from the gaze. A commotion in the middle of the room had him leading her through the kitchen door. His earpiece communicated that Roger and his paid assassin had entered the club.

  “My friends are still in there,” Dior pleaded as he pushed open the exit door.

  “Alf
red is getting them. We need to disappear fast. Can you run in those heels?”

  She slipped them off. “I can now.”

  They weaved in and out of buildings. Spencer knew of one place off the radar, and his Boss would not like it, but he took her down two blocks to his apartment building. They entered the back entrance.

  “Where are you taking me? This place is scary.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll be safe. We can lay low in my place for a few hours. I’ll contact Ryan once we’re inside, and I’m sure no one followed us.”

  Her eyes widened, and she stopped inside the lobby. Her eyes looked around the dim hallway. “Your place. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Fluorescents flickered, revealing the green paint peeling on the walls.

  “I know I live in a dump. But it’s not forever.”

  Inside his apartment, he bolted the doors and shut the blinds. He turned out the one light over the stove. “It’s not much, but it's clean. I have bottled water, and a few staples if you’re hungry.”

  She sat on the small brown sofa, taking in his meager existence. The look on her face said it all.

  “Do not feel sorry for me. I grew up in a mansion. My stepfather was an asshole. I’d rather live here on my own terms than take scraps from him any day of the week. I have plans.” He waved his hand. “This is not forever.”

  Her breathing seemed to even out. “Spencer, do you know how much I’ve dreamed of being on my own? To carve out any other kind of existence except for the gilded cage I live in? Your place is perfect.”

  He didn’t know her well enough to determine if she was lying or telling the truth. He looked out the window—no one in sight except for Mr. Harrington walking his Saint Bernard and carting off the canine's humongous shit into the dumpster in the alley.

  “Excuse me while I put a call into Ryan to find out our next move.”

  “Spencer, I’m sorry you’re caught up in my family drama. Roger is a violent man. He—he.”

  He went to his knees and took her hands. “He what?” The level of anger rose with every breath he took.

  “He hurt me…more than once. I-I don’t want to talk about it. I want to forget him, but he won’t stop. I humiliated him, and I believe he’s using the Russian ploy to kill me. He said he would kill me, and now I believe him.”

  He took her into his arms as she cried. “I won’t allow anyone to hurt you. Do you believe me?” He tilted her chin up, and he was momentarily lost in her turquoise eyes, almost the color of the ocean reflected on white-sand beaches.

  He caressed her cheek, leaned in, and whispered, “I shouldn’t,” then brushed his lips across hers.

  A loud clang along with ferocious barking came from the back lot of the building. He jumped to his feet and went to the window. Mr. Harrington lay on the ground, his Saint Bernard growling and barking protectively over his master's body.

  Two, no three shadows of men dressed in black rushed to the door. Three shots echoed, several lights from adjoining apartments came on. He just needed to hold them off until the authorities came.

  “Dior, I need you in the pantry closet. Keep quiet.”

  “No. Give me a gun. I’m trained and carrying a license.”

  He shoved the worn quilt from the trunk next to the sofa and pulled out several weapons. She took the Ruger LC9 and checked it.

  “The weapons in here stay loaded.” He kicked over the sofa forming the only barricade between them and Roger’s assassins.

  The ticking of the wall clock seemed louder with every passing second, then suddenly everything went into fast motion.

  His door exploded with gunfire, splintering into a thousand pieces.

  Spencer’s automatic weapon released successive rounds of ammunition.

  He used his body as a human shield to protect Dior.

  Seconds blurred into what seemed like minutes.

  The life force drained from his body as Dior cradled his head; his consciousness faded to black.

  Chapter 7

  Dior

  Dior sat next to Spencer in the hospital room, holding his hands, willing him to open his eyes.

  He’d saved her life.

  Spencer killed the henchmen, and Roger wasn’t one of the casualties.

  Her father came into the room. His eyes were full of compassion. “No change?”

  She nodded slowly.

  He placed his hand on her right shoulder. “He is young and strong. I have no doubt he’ll recover. He’s getting the best care available. Won’t you go home and rest? I’ll stay with him.”

  “Father, you and I must have a heart to heart talk. I am a grown woman, and if you want me to stay in your life, no more secrets. I grew up with the organization while not knowing all the details, and I am aware of the danger. Roger is still out there.”

  “You’re right. I made a promise to your mother to protect you and to keep you out of my business affairs. That is no longer possible.”

  Dior turned to Spencer. “He shielded me. I don’t want him to die, Father.”

  “I’ve had Ryan move his things into one of the condos in your building. He’s a valuable asset, and I trust he’ll remain in our employ once he regains consciousness.”

  Spencer’s eyes fluttered, then opened. He looked around, seemingly confused.

  She stood and leaned in. “Hey there, you.”

  He tried to speak with strained difficulty. “Dior, you’re safe?”

  “Yeah, thanks to you. Don’t talk. Rest.”

  Her father, William, said, “Son, thank you for taking care of my girl. I’ll get your doctor while Dior fills you in on the details.” He left the room.

  “Father has moved you into my building. Is that okay with you?” She stared into his gray eyes filled with tiny specks of gold she hadn’t noticed before.

  He nodded.

  “Good, I have a hunch you and I belong together.” She pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

  The door opened, and two huge men stepped into the room. Her back stiffened, but a smile broke across Spencer’s lips. “You know them?” Dior asked.

  “They’re my brothers,” Spencer croaked.

  “I’m Xavier, and this is Ash,” X said.

  Spencer said, “The Vegas fight?”

  “Don’t worry, man, there’re other fights,” Ash said, “But there’s only one you.”

  Several weeks later, Dior flitted around Spencer’s newly decorated condo. She’d become his personal caregiver during his recovery. He tried to turn down Mr. Ford’s offer, but he couldn’t give up seeing her.

  In the short amount of time, he knew Dior, he’d come to realize she was his soul mate. And, he’d learned Roger was still on the loose. So, he accepted the position in the organization.

  Every day, X and Ash came over to the private gym in the Ford complex to help him rehab. Both promising that he would still compete in the next UFC Vegas competition.

  Every evening, he spent with Dior.

  She slid into bed, and she cupped his face with her hands. “Have I told you lately, how much I adore you?” Kissing him with so much passion that it nearly made his heart explode.

  “Doc said I’m coming off restrictions in a few days. I’m all for kissing and hugging, but dear god, woman, my balls are blue.”

  She laughed out loud. “I’m sure I can do something about that.” She kissed him again, then whispered in his ear, “As soon as your restrictions are lifted.”

  He wrapped her in his arms as she placed her face against his chest. “You are one feisty female.”

  “Don’t you know it.”

  Dear Reader,

  Preorder the extended version of Spencer and Dior, releasing 9.27.20.

  About P. T. Macias

  P.T. Macias is a USA Today Best Selling Author. She lives in California with her husband, children, and grandkids. They’re her pride and joy. She has an adorable, sassy Maltipoo named Bella.

  When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, going on
cruises, seeing concerts, eating white peaches, pistachio ice cream, walking with Bella, and sipping margaritas.

  Her passion is writing. She writes dark romance & paranormal romance. Her books are about incredible sexy alpha men, and strong, sassy woman. Experience tales of the dark mafia billionaires, alpha MCs, bad boy MMA cage fighters, mystical realms full of action, suspense, danger, secrets, and a dash of love.

  Check out her website.

  Also by P. T. Macias

  Buy P. T. Macias Books

  Supreme Legacy Series

  Hades Knights MC NorCal Chapter

  Dark Fallen Angels MC NorCal Chapter

  MMA Cage Fighter

  The Watchers

  Wolff Dynasty

  Vhampiers Realm

  Dragon Blood Legacy

  Rarer 8

  De La Cruz Saga

  Archangels Insights

  A Matter of Trust by Dr. Sharon A. Mitchell

  Chapter 1

  “Come on, Daniel, keep up. Stay with me.” Keira tried not to let the impatience seep into her voice, but it was hard. She was so behind.

  She glanced around. “Daniel!” She stretched for his hand, remembering to let him see her coming. Life was easier when he wasn’t startled. She steered him away from the kiosk that sold more types of popcorn than the world needed. She rested her palm firmly on his shoulder and guided him along with her.

  They would both rather be almost anywhere but here. If there was any choice…. Her printer died just when she absolutely had to have material printed today.

  Skirting groups of shoppers and carts, she hurried her son through the mall. Daniel did not like to be rushed, and she could feel his body tensing beneath her hand. He also didn’t like crowds, noise or confusion. Neither did she, but today it couldn’t be helped.