Interracial Romance: Tempted by the Alpha Billionaire (BWWM Interracial Alpha Male Romance) (African American Contemporary Short Stories Book 1)

by Wilde, Raina

  “Who was shot?” She demanded. When he did not answer immediately she tried again, “Brent, who was shot?”

  “Ben.” He held up a hand to stop her when she started to speak again. “That’s all I know until we meet up. Just take care of the powder and don’t freeze up on me, OK?”

  Emily nodded. He was right that she needed to stay focused. Ben was injured and the only chance of helping him was to get to the safety of the submarine. She followed the SEAL out the door, mimicking his stealth movements as best she could.

  They jogged along the length of the deck before coming to a stop at a seemingly deserted stretch of railing.

  Brent opened his bag once more and withdrew a rope ladder. He clipped the ladder to the railing and flung it over the side of the ship. Emily leaned over the rail and saw a pale blue, blinking light shining from the water below. That was where their craft waited to propel them all to safety.

  “Where are they?” she spoke with frustration when the SEALs still had not arrived three minutes later.

  Finally, she saw them, sprinting up the balcony toward her. Ben seemed to be keeping up, she noticed with relief. Perhaps his injury was not as dangerous as she had anticipated. As they came to a halt the two men that were with Ben took protective stances, keeping guard in case they were followed. Brent pushed Ben against the railing, forcing him to lean against it.

  That was when she realized that he was swaying slightly with the effort to remain upright. The bullet wound to his left shoulder was precariously close to his heart. Emily refused to allow herself to panic. She efficiently poured the powder onto the main source of bleeding. Instantly the blood thickened into a bulbous paste.

  Brent nodded with satisfaction and tossed her the roll from which he had been ripping strips of tape and collecting them in a row on the railing.

  “Keep tearing until I tell you to stop.” Brent began covering the wound with a patchwork of duct tape while Emily replenished the strips that lined the railing. “You bastard.” He muttered. “Couldn’t you have been shot someplace easy? Why not an arm? But no, it had to be a chest shot. You just had to join the club didn’t you?”

  “I’ll pull through.” Ben grimaced as Brent pushed the tape over his diving suit. “You three did.”

  Emily felt her jaw drop as she realized that each of these men had, at one point, had a similar injury. She looked with wide eyes at the four men around her before Brent declared that their work was complete.

  Brent catapulted over the railing and slid down the ladder. He moved so quickly that Emily wondered if he had even used the rungs. She was instructed to follow him next. The water was icy and the waves rocked the SDV as it floated alongside the massive ship. Brent attached her belt to the watercraft and turned in time to hand the other men their harnesses as well.

  From the deck above, Emily began to hear the sharp shout of voices. A figure leaned over the railing and took aim at their group floating in the water. Before she knew what had happened the man had slumped over the railing and toppled, dead, into the water a few years away. Emily recognized him as Val Marquez.

  She turned to her left and watched the bearded SEAL casually return a pistol to a pocket of his wetsuit.

  Now there were numerous angry voices up on the deck. Multiple shots hit the water around them as the five Americans pulled their masks over their faces and sank beneath the surface.

  The force of the SDV towed them along while one of the SEALs, it was too dark for Emily to distinguish between them, monitored a small screen and steered them toward a green mass on the grid that she assumed was the sub.

  She was wondering how Ben was doing when she realized that one of the bodies was dragging limply along beside them. In a state of sheer agony, Emily endured the ride to safety.

  A month later, Emily sat in her apartment typing her resignation to her editor. She was done writing adventure novels. In her stories, there had always been a happily ever after. In real life, she had learned that it did not work that way.

  After boarding the submarine, Ben had been whisked away to the medical bay. She had been told that his condition was critical and that he was to remain isolated.

  The very next morning a helicopter had airlifted him away from her, never to be seen again. She had tried to locate him in the weeks following, but found that his security clearance was so high that it was impossible to garner any information about the man. They would not even tell her if he was still alive.

  A knock on her door brought Emily to her feet. She opened it to find Brent leaning casually against her door frame.

  “Wow, you’re blonde!” he exclaimed. Emily had died her hair back to its natural color.

  “What are you doing here?” she breathed. Emily felt as if she were about to vomit. The only reason she would expect Brent at her apartment was if he had come to tell Emily that Ben had not survived. Except, she thought, he would not look so happy if that were the case.

  “I have a present for you.” Brent grinned broadly. “Now, no driving allowed until further notice and here is the list of meds and when to take them.” He handed her a sheet of paper and a box filled with prescription medications. She looked into the box and saw that all of the bottles were labeled Ben Portman.

  “Are you serious!” Emily literally jumped with joy and peered around Brent’s wide frame to see Ben slowly making his way up the apartment staircase.

  She ran toward him but was stopped abruptly when Brent grabbed hold of the back of her shirt. She looked at him with a combination of laughter and annoyance.

  “Be gentle with him.” He shook a finger at her like a scolding parent. “I can tell you from experience that he isn’t as tough as he is going to pretend to be. There is nothing like a good shot to the heart to kick your butt.”

  “I promise.” Emily said with a smile.

  Brent released her and she rushed down the staircase to stand a step above Ben.

  “I thought you were dead.” She admitted. Brent coughed what sounded suspiciously like the word almost under his breath.

  “I’m not dead.” Ben smiled. “They took down Lorenz, thanks to your information.” He looked almost nervous, Emily realized. “You don’t need to worry about him any longer.”

  “Too bad the only thing I’ve been worried about is you.” she feigned a stern voice but they were both smiling too much to be convincing.

  Emily wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled Ben in for a kiss that sent shivers through her body.

  “I said to take it easy, not jump him.” came the laughing voice from behind her.

  Emily waved one arm behind her, “Go away, Brent. I’ll take it from here.”

  THE END

  Flip the page for Bonus 4, Claimed by the Alpha Bear!

  Evita's got her life on track. She’s a recent graduate of one of the most prestigious veterinary clinics in the country and she's just secured a new job and a beautiful home in rural Maine. But her picture-perfect life is about to get a little bit interesting once Evita meets a dark and mysterious man who wants to help her renovate her house—and her love life.

  Shane LaFevre is a deviously sexy alpha who likes to keep to himself. But the voluptuous new woman in town has sparked something in him, and he has to have her—whatever the cost.

  After a night of unbridled passion Evita becomes torn between her job and her growing feelings for Shane. But she has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. Shane is persistent, and once he gets his claws into a girl it’s hard for him to let go. But now that he's ruffled some feathers in town, and after a night of bloody drama, Evita wonders if she's made a mistake letting him into her life.

  Claimed by the Alpha Bear

  Evita took her diploma from the Dean and smiled for the photographer poised at the edge of the stage. He snapped a few pictures and then the Dean of Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at Tufts released her hand and she walked off the stage. By the time she got to the curtain which shielded her from the audience the te
ars were streaming down her face. She knew her father would have been proud, and if she believed in any kind of afterlife she would have thought he was smiling down on her right now. But she was far too practical for that. Her brother was here though, and as she came around the corner to take her seat again she saw him waving from the bleachers. His new wife, Emily, sat beside him.

  Her brother Justin had inherited the farm in Kansas after their father had died last year. Evita had been left with almost half a million dollars. Their father knew them so well, it wouldn't have been right any other way. Evita had written off her college debt and Justin had settled in nicely to the farm life, managing over two-hundred thousand acres of corn. It was once much more land, but over the years the acres at the edge had been sold off piece by piece, the largest portions at the end of their father's life in order to pay off the substantial medical bills he had accumulated. But it hadn't been enough to save his life.

  Evita sat back down and dabbed at her face. She waved at Justin again. He was her twin, and they were alike in ways both physical and emotional. Although she had always been the more studious one, they both shared a love of animals and the outdoors. She looked at Justin, so much different to his petite wife. He was 6'2", Evita herself was only slightly shorter, and his bright blonde hair was shorn close to his head. Evita wore hers in a neat bob that was just long enough to pull back in a ponytail while she was working. People always said she looked like Reese Witherspoon, though Evita always heard the implied "if Reese Witherspoon was bigger" even though no one ever said it outright. She didn't mind though; her mother and father had both been tall, broad and strong. Her paternal great-grandparents came to the midwest from Germany and her maternal grandparents from Iceland. They farmed the land and passed on a strong work ethic to their children. Where she was from in Kansas it wasn't uncommon to be tall, blonde and solidly built. It wasn't until she moved from her isolated farming community to Boston that she began to feel so much bigger than everyone else. Still, she did her best to keep in shape; she swam regularly, and her legs had the muscles to show it.

  Evita unrolled her diploma and looked at the words "Doctorate of Veterinary Medicine" printed at the top. She felt a thrill of nervous excitement. She hadn't yet started applying for jobs, but now that she had her degree there was nothing keeping her here in Boston. She would start applying as soon as she got back to her apartment.

  Eight weeks later she packed the last of the boxes from her apartment into her car and locked the door. She slipped the keys under the Super's door as she left the building. It was time to leave Boston behind. She had received a job offer from a rural veterinary clinic in Maine. A quick internet search showed the town of Appleby, Maine to have a population of 300 people surrounded by farmland and orchards. The veterinarian that ran a clinic 3 days a week there had recently retired, and was looking for someone to replace him. Evita would spend two days in the office and three days visiting farms up to a hundred miles away. The man on the phone said she would get a truck so she didn't have to put miles on her own car.

  The drive up to Maine was long, and it was dark by the time she got there. She pulled up in front of a small two story cottage. She had only seen it in pictures; it was one of the only houses for sale within a 10 minute drive of the veterinary clinic that wasn't too big. It was just her, and she didn't anticipate getting a partner anytime soon. Even though the house needed work, the selling point for her were the unusually high 13 foot ceilings.

  Her phone began to ring and she pulled it out of her purse and looked at the screen. It was Justin.

  "Hey big brother," she said. He was 2 minutes older than she was, and it had always been the running joke.

  "Hello beautiful, are you there yet?"

  "Just pulled up," Evita said. She shut the car off and stepped out into the dark. It was late May, and the nights were starting to grow warm. However, this far north she could still see her breath and a frosty dew had settled over the grass.

  "Watch out for bears," Justin joked.

  "Ha, ha. Don't even joke," she replied.

  "How's the house look?"

  "Dark. I hope the electric company turned the power on like I asked."

  "Just get a hotel if they didn't." Evita could hear Justin sneak his wife a kiss over the line.

  "None of that while you're on the phone with me," she joked, then said, "I have a hotel booked already, I don't have any furniture." Justin made exaggerated kissing sounds down the line. Evita laughed and wondered if they'd ever grow up.

  "Okay BB, I have to go. I'm going to unlock this place and see if we have light," she said.

  "Okay sis, talk to you later."

  "Love ya," she said and hung up. The key to the door slipped in easily and the door opened wide. She stepped halfway inside and used the small LED light on her keychain to see. The switch was on the wall to her left and when she flicked it the bulb above the door switched on and flooded the front yard with light. She flicked the next switch over and the lights inside came on. The house was a little run down, with wallpaper peeling from the walls of some of the rooms, and the kitchen was outdated, but she was excited to start renovating it room by room. She shut the interior lights off and locked the door again. The quiet and dark put her on edge, and she decided exploring her house was best left until the morning. She couldn't shake the feeling that something, or someone, was watching her from the dark. She jogged back to her car, closing the door quickly after sliding inside.

  #

  The next morning she left the hotel room and drove to a small general store she had passed the night before. Inside the shelves were packed with a bit of everything. She grabbed some breakfast and took it to the register. A man in his 50's or 60's was watching a small TV mounted on the wall above the door.

  "New in town?" he asked as Evita put her orange juice and blueberry muffin on the counter.

  "Yeah," she replied. "How did you know?"

  "You have Massachusetts license plates on your car. It's not yet tourist season," he said, pointing out the window.

  Evita smiled, "I suppose you're right."

  She took her bag off the counter and headed toward the door. Just as she was about to push it open, a man stepped inside.

  "Sorry," she said, stepping out of the way. She looked up at the man, not something she did very often, and was taken aback. He was at least six inches taller than she was. His shoulders were broad and square, and his hair was jet black. It was a little long, long enough to cover his ears, and curled at the ends. His eyes were just as dark. Evita's heart sped up a little as she made eye contact with him, but she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was his sheer size—he was undoubtedly an intimidating man. His shirt was covered in sawdust and she saw he had a pair of work gloves tucked into the pocket of his jeans.

  "Hi Shane," the man at the counter said.

  Shane nodded in response. "Excuse me," he said to Evita. She smiled at him and then slipped through the door and outside. When she got into the fresh air she took a deep breath trying to calm herself. She wasn't sure why he had disarmed her so much, but it was unusual. A large black pick-up truck was parked in the driveway and Evita assumed it must be his. The truck had been lifted and modified to have large tires and was covered in mud. The back had an electric winch and steel cables mounted on a frame and a few toolboxes screwed down to the truck bed. Evita wondered what they were for before getting into her car and driving to her new house.

  After a few hours of walking through the inside and then around the outside of the house, she decided the kitchen and dining room need to be tackled first. If she was going to move in, she needed somewhere to cook and eat. There was another small room off the dining room that was in good shape. It was lined with windows and she thought it was probably a summer porch of some kind. A large set of french doors separated it from the rest of the house. It had a big closet, and she decided it was a good place to put a bed until the rest of the house could be renovated.

  She put on a pair
of work gloves, turned the radio on and started ripping the cabinets out of the kitchen. Within a few hours she had the walls stripped down to the studs and started pulling up layers of old linoleum. By the end of the day the kitchen was a shell, ready for new sheetrock to be nailed up. She was most impressed with the wooden floor that was covered with so much linoleum. It would have to be sanded, but she thought it will be beautiful once it was. She stood in the kitchen, hands on her hips, surveying the work.

  "Need any help?" a voice came from behind her. She turned, startled. It was the man from the store, Shane. He was standing in the open doorway and he had a six pack of beer in one hand while the other was inspecting the frame.

  "What are you doing in my house?" Evita asked.

  Shane smiled, "I saw the pile of wood in the driveway, thought you might need some help. I'm a carpenter."

  Evita, despite the reservations she felt about this strange man walking into her house without asking, was relieved. At least she wouldn't have to search around for a carpenter.

  "Well," she said after a minute, "that's useful."

  Shane laughed. He stepped forward and held out his hand. "Shane Le Fevre," he said. She stepped forward and shook his hand. She was amazed at his size, and for one of the first times in her life she felt small beside someone.

  "Evita Bauer," she replied. She released his hand and stepped back, as if eager to be out of the man's shadow. His eyes had a dark, inky intensity that unsettled her. She wondered for a moment if she should find someone else to do the carpentry work she needed, but then pushed the thought from her mind. It was ridiculous. No matter how intimidating he thought he was, she knew she could handle him.

  "So, Shane, what do you think of the progress so far?"

  Shane stepped into the kitchen and surveyed her work.

  "Great job, it's really cleaned up." He bent to inspect some of the wires. "I think it needs new electrical though."