Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  We turned one more corner, and O stopped, staring at an open door. The hall led straight toward those doors. Those doors were flung open in an invitation, and there was nothing else in this hall – just those wide open doors.

  O didn’t take another step though.

  She let go of my hand and reached up to rub at her upper lip, her hand shaking a little.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She glanced over at me and shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just…second-guessing myself, you could say. This is either a smart move or a really, really dumb one.”

  “No in between?”

  “Absolutely not.” She laughed nervously, then slowly tipped her head back and stared up at the ceiling, her lashes laying thick and full over her high cheekbones. Finally, she swung a look over at me. “You’re going to behave yourself in there, Chief Dedman. Otherwise, I’ll kick your ass. I don’t care if you’re a Navy SEAL. You might be a special agent from God’s own army, but if you act like an asshole in that room, you’re going to deal with me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Call me crazy, but I know when a person was protecting someone they love.

  She gave me a narrow look, then started forward.

  I trailed along in her wake, looking at the art on the walls, searching for some clue as to what I was about to find.

  The clues, though, were coming from inside the room itself. They weren’t in the hall…I didn’t think.

  Beep…beep…beep…

  My mind cataloged that noise, told me what it was.

  My nose had already taken inventory.

  Antiseptic smells, although somebody made a valiant attempt to hide it with potpourri and other homey scents. There was also the faint scent of urine.

  A woman came rushing toward us. “O, how lovely to see you. Have you brought…” She looked at me, and her words tripped, then trailed away.

  Her face paled, and she stared at me like she was looking at a ghost.

  “Nancy, can you give us some time?”

  “But–”

  “It’s okay,” O said, resting a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of her. She looks like you just changed and rotated her, yes?”

  Nancy nodded.

  “I only need a few minutes. We’ll read some of the book to her, okay?”

  Nancy left, but not without shooting me another dubious look.

  But I’d already dismissed her.

  Somebody else was checking me out.

  The force of her gaze was something to be reckoned with. If she hadn’t been confined to that bed, I had no doubt she would have been commanding an army of her own in some shape or form.

  Austere intelligence gleamed from those haughty green eyes as we approached, and for a long moment, she didn’t even blink.

  It wasn’t until O stepped in between us that the woman even acknowledged her. There might have been a faint smile, but it was hard to say.

  “Hello, Queen Elise,” O said, her voice obviously teasing, but there was an undercurrent there.

  Not rebuke, exactly.

  Warning, maybe. Warning the woman? Me?

  “I’ve brought company, as you can clearly tell. Mind if we sit?”

  I watched as the older woman gave two slow blinks.

  “Thank you.” O gave me a look and nodded at the chair near my right. “Elise – or Queen Elise – as I call her, doesn’t always hold court. I don’t force myself on her if she doesn’t want company.” She winked at the woman and then nodded at me. “My grandma once told me that if you live to be a certain age, you get to decide if you want to put up with…” O paused, then smiled again, “the bullshit of courtesy that society forces upon a woman. I told the Queen that once. She laughed so hard she almost cried.”

  That glimmer of a smile came and went as Elise’s eyes moved from my face to O’s. There was a distinct fondness in her eyes as she looked at the younger woman. I’d never realized just how expressive eyes could be. Then she set that gaze on me, and I realized how cutting they could also be. She looked at me as though she saw all my secrets.

  They should find a way to duplicate that stare and use it in inquisitions.

  I sat there saying nothing while I worked everything into place in my head.

  It wasn’t until O started shifting in her seat and looking uncomfortable that I realized her friend, Queen Elise, was also working things in her head.

  “Maybe we should go–”

  Elise narrowed her eyes and O obediently sat down. She’d only partially risen from her chair, but at that look, she sat, tucking her hands neatly in her lap, and I couldn’t help but think she looked like a schoolgirl who’d just gotten the death glare from some stern instructor.

  It tugged a laugh out of me and then I was the focus of that stern glare.

  And O’s too.

  “Something funny?” O batted her lashes.

  “I’m just thinking you must have been one hell of a bitch if just a look can make O sit down and shut up,” I said, hitching up a shoulder, directing my words toward Elise, not O.

  Elise’s eyes widened slightly. Then she focused her attention on O, blinked again. This time, each blink was longer, slower.

  “She said ‘thank you.’”

  By blinking? I almost said it out loud, then realized how rude it would sound. The woman clearly couldn’t talk, and they’d found ways to communicate without it. Who was I to interfere?

  O hesitated, then nodded. After another moment of that hard focus from Elise, she got up and went to the side desk, pulling out a thick stack of white cards. Angling my gaze around allowed me to see that they were almost like the flash cards kids would use when learning to read.

  Elise held them up.

  A series of cards passed in front of Elise with no response. Then, she blinked hard and fast, three times.

  “Is.” O nodded and put a card down. The word on it – Is.

  The same routine continued until she came to another card. This.

  The last word made my heart hammer, and I wanted to know just what and the hell was going on and how this woman knew.

  Him.

  Is this him?

  O didn’t answer the question directly. She just looked at Elise and touched her hand. “I wanted him to meet you. He doesn’t understand.”

  Another session of the blinking and card game had me wanting to cuss a blue streak and hit a wall.

  Neither.

  Do.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Olivia

  We were striding down the hall, and Adam moved at a clip so fast, I could barely keep up. Hands in his pockets, he stared straight ahead, and anger practically oozed off of him.

  “That’s his wife, E—”

  “Elise,” he bit off. “Yeah, got that. Queen Elise.” The bitterness in his voice was enough to choke on. “How long as she been like that?”

  “She lost the ability to speak some months ago. She’s been confined to a bed for…” I paused and blew out a breath, thinking, “well, longer.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Genetics.” He pushed through a door, and I followed him out to the gardens, wondering if he planned to keep walking – just walk until his legs gave out. Mine would give out first. I was fit, there was no denying that, but Adam Dedman wasn’t fit. He was…well, I wasn’t sure there were words to define him.

  There was no spare flesh on him, every muscle defined. He wasn’t a walking, talking stack of muscle the way some men are though. He didn’t look like he was about to burst out of his skin. He looked lethal and contained and…damn, that ass of his.

  He stopped abruptly and spun around.

  Reflex had me bringing my gaze up just in time to meet his.

  “Genetics? What the hell does that mean?”

  Heaving out a ragged breath, I tried to bring my hormones in line. This was so not the time for my libido to decide to wake up from its very long nap. “She has a genetic disorder. It’s called Huntington’s Dise
ase.”

  His lids flickered. “Shit.”

  “You’ve heard of it.”

  “TV. Looked it up once.” He jerked a shoulder in a shrug and looked past me, and I watched as his mouth twitched into a semblance of a grimace. He started to talk and then stopped, dragging a hand down his face. There were questions he wanted to ask, but something was getting in the way. I don’t know if it was his pride – or his faith in his mother.

  Taking a step toward him, I murmured, “They’d separated. They…ah…well, they had a son. He died. A drunk driving accident and it was hard on them. Elise was having issues with depression. Her doctor wrote all her symptoms off on that. That’s when he met and fell in love with your mother. He was going to file for divorce, but then Elise was in an accident. She slipped and fell. Her assistant was worried she might have tried to commit suicide. Anyway, they were doing tests, and one of the ER doctors saw something. Your dad was called and…”

  Adam’s shoulders slumped, and he turned away.

  “He loves – loved – your mother. But as time went by and things started to look bad for Elise…”

  “And Elise knew.” His voice was thick, caustic. “That’s what her question was about, wasn’t it? Is this him?”

  “Yeah. She knows. She didn’t. Not right away. But a few years ago, she found out. Elise has a sister.” I scowled, thinking of the day I’d walked in on Cherise telling Elise about the horrible affair that her husband had been carrying on under her nose for years. It was bullshit. The boss hadn’t seen Gena Dedman in years, and he’d never officially met his son, but that wasn’t the picture Cherise painted.

  You should leave him.

  Come be with me. You should be with me. I’ll take care of you.

  The boss came clean after that, telling Elise about the affair with Gena, explaining about the child. When I saw her the next day, I could tell she’d spent most of the night crying.

  “Anyway, Elise has a sister. She gouges the family for money at every turn, but it’s never enough. She wants Elise to live with her because it would be just another way to twist those screws. She’s the one who found out about you and…” I finished with a shrug, unable to put it all into words.

  “My father.” Adam clearly had no trouble finding the words.

  “Yeah.”

  “Shit.” He turned away, planting his fists on his hips and staring at nothing. The faded gray cloth of his T-shirt strained against his shoulders, and I could feel the emotions vibrating from him. “So what does he want with me, huh? My mom’s gone, but his wife is still alive. Seeing me has to be like a punch to the face.”

  “She always wanted to meet you, actually,” I said softly. “But your mother…”

  He turned slowly. “Are you saying the reason I never met my father is because my mother kept me away?”

  “It was her choice.”

  I froze, then sucked in a breath at the sound of that voice.

  Shit.

  Oh. Shit.

  Heat flooded my face, followed by a rush of ice and I squeezed my eyes shut as the boss stepped out of a small alcove. The house was huge and even after living here for almost fifteen years, I still didn’t know all of its secrets.

  How long had he been listening?

  As Adam James Clarion met my eyes, I realized he’d been listening long enough, probably from the beginning. The boss arched a brow, his eyes so dark they were nearly black. For a long moment, he didn’t look away. Then he turned and met the implacable gaze of his son, Adam James “Reaper” Dedman.

  “Hello, Chief Dedman,” he said calmly.

  “Gee, hi, Dad,” Adam said sardonically. There was absolutely no warmth in his voice. No welcome. Then he focused on me. “I’m ready to go.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Olivia

  “Are you even going to give him a chance?”

  We stood outside the car in front of his mother’s pretty little cottage, painted white and now gleaming coldly in the light of the dying day.

  We’d driven straight to Barrett’s office and signed the plea deal with the DA’s office.

  Adam had a fine of two thousand dollars and eighty hours of community service. Lincoln had snidely informed him that if she’d had her way, he would have served out the maximum for his sentence on top of whatever Uncle Sam had in mind, but her bosses didn’t see the point in prosecuting a highly decorated member of the US Navy.

  He hadn’t responded, other than to scrawl his name on the line where indicated.

  She also told him he’d best make sure that the fine was paid in due time, and he’d stared her down until she looked away. I had to wonder what she had against a military guy because she’d gone and developed a hate-on for Adam before she’d ever really met him.

  I’d like to think I was done with Chief Dedman myself, but I wasn’t. We’d only just gotten started, and things would be so much easier if he’d just…loosen up.

  “I don’t see why it matters,” he said, finally answering the question I’d forgotten I’d asked. “I don’t exactly need a parent in the stands when I’m standing on the pitcher’s mound these days.”

  I clenched my jaw because I knew what he was talking about.

  He turned to the walkway, starting up toward the house.

  “He was there.”

  Adam tensed.

  I followed him and moved to stand in front of him. “Twelve years ago, you threw the final pitch your senior year. You struck the guy out and won the game. Your father was there. Your mother saw him. They didn’t speak. But he was there too. He went to as many games as he could, and he also went to your high school graduation.”

  “That’s a bunch of bull–”

  “I was there.” Jutting my chin up, I glared at him. “James Clarion pretty much rescued me off the streets, adopted me when I was nine. And from the time I was ten up until you left for the Navy, if you were playing a game and he was home, then he was there. And he took me with him. I didn’t know, not at first. It wasn’t until I was thirteen or fourteen that I realized he wasn’t just going because he loved sports. We lived an hour and a half away, damn it. I could never get his attention like you did. I even thought maybe he was a creeper or something. But I’d known creepers. He wasn’t like that.”

  The anger drained out of me, and I turned away, moving over to the porch and dropping down on the front step to sit. Elbows braced on my knees, I stared at him.

  “He just wants a chance. Why can’t you give him that?”

  “Why is he sending you to ask for him?”

  “Because that’s what I do. I’m his right hand.” Offering a weak smile, I shrugged. “He’ll be here to ask you sooner or later himself. But he’s…”

  I hesitated, knowing I couldn’t say anything else. I’d already crossed too many lines by taking him to see Elise.

  The tears came on me hard and fast, unexpected. Pressing my fingers to my eyes, I willed them back.

  I refused to cry.

  Not here.

  Not with him.

  Sucking in an unsteady breath, I waited until my breath was calmer.

  When the porch shifted next to me, I didn’t dare open my eyes. When the heat of him seemed to scald me through my clothes, I didn’t dare look. But then his hand slid up my back.

  “Hey…”

  I shivered under that gentle, soothing touch.

  It was supposed to be soothing.

  It wasn’t.

  He did it again, and I had to swallow back a moan.

  Get it together, O. It’s the physical stimuli, nothing more.

  Physical stimuli…that was all. From a man who would have made the Roman gods of old weep with envy – or come after him out of pure spite. Hard, sexy, muscled…intense eyes that could make a woman feel like she was the only woman, a mouth that made her want to be the only woman, and a body that made her about ready to do anything if he just pulled her up against it.

  But it was just physical stimuli.

  I s
pent most of my time invested in the boss and taking care of him and Elise lately. And when I wasn’t taking care of them, or whatever else needed to be done with the company, I took care of me, but that usually involved sleeping, reading, or indulging in a little bit of shopping or traveling.

  There were very, very few indulgences with guys, especially lately.

  And here Adam was. The boy. The man. He was hot and sexy and…

  “Look at me, O.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, the words coming out far too unsteady.

  Son of a bitch, I didn’t sound like I was about ready to cry either.

  When his hand slid into my hair, I caught my breath.

  “O?”

  “Please stop, Adam.”

  The hand slid higher, curving around my neck and the heat of him was like a furnace, melting away tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying while filling me with an entirely different sort of tension altogether. “I think you might just be the devil, O. I can’t figure out what to make of you.”

  I eased forward, preparing myself to get up and walk away.

  But just as I went to rise, he tugged.

  Caught off balance, I toppled backward, and he took advantage. I ended up half spilled across his chest, and he went with the movement, going partly to his back, bracing his weight on one elbow, steadying me with a hand on my hip. “Easy there, O.” His gaze studied my face, lingering on my mouth.

  I sucked in a breath, and despite the gut instinct that was telling me to get some distance between us – fast – I licked my lips instead.

  That dark brown gaze tracked the movement, and it was almost like he’d kissed me, because I felt the heat of his eyes, almost like he was touching me.

  Then he was, that hand on my hip sliding up…the tip of his finger sliding over the lower curve of my lip. I parted my mouth, telling myself I needed to be smart.

  But I was always smart.

  I braced a hand on his shoulder, my fingers involuntarily curling into the heavy pad of muscle as we gazed at each other.

  “This would be a lot easier if you’d just cry it out, whatever it is that’s bothering you. I’ve got a rule about tears and women. I don’t take advantage.” His voice was a low, rough rumble.