Big Bad John (Bigger in Texas Series) (25 page)

Georgia groaned. “Oh, give me strength. I thought you and I both agreed we’d stop rescuing broken men.”

She came closer, surveying the damage as Roux finally stopped barking, dancing around the prone figure with her tail wagging furiously.

She frowned. “Yeah, yeah I see him. Settle down, Roux.”

A man. A man beside a very fancy snowmobile that was currently on its side, looking too expensive to have been so horribly abused. Strapped to it—seeming very out of place atop the shiny monstrosity—was the ugliest, strangest looking little fir tree Georgia had ever seen. Intact enough, despite its tumble. The man, however, might be another story. He wasn’t moving.

He was facing away from her on his side, covered head to toe in snow gear. Georgia knelt down and rolled him carefully onto his back, making sure as she did that she didn’t jar him. “Buddy? Can you hear me? This might not be the best place ever to take a nap.”

She was about to take her glove off to feel for a pulse, wondering if she would be able to feel anything at all when he groaned. “Oh thank goodness.” Georgia smiled up at Roux in relief. “He’s alive.”

He made another grunting noise and she looked down quickly, seeing his eyes open just long enough for her to admire their light green color before they closed again. She dragged the ski mask up to reveal his face, and noticed the gash across his temple as well as the bruise forming along the square line of his jaw. Did he have a concussion? “Hey guy, open those pretty eyes again. Come on now, we need to get you out of the snow.”

He didn’t move and Georgia looked him up and down. He was huge. At least six feet tall, with the shoulders of a line backer. Maybe he was wearing an oversized snowsuit, but somehow she doubted it. Why? Because she knew what she’d have to do if he didn’t wake up.

It was just how she was raised.

“Tree.”

Georgia had just covered his face back up and lifted him by the fabric around his shoulders to drag him to her car when she heard him speak. She dropped him in surprise and his breath rushed out in a loud huff. “Oh, damn I’m sorry. What did you say?”

He didn’t respond, but she’d realized what he’d said. She started dragging him again, muttering to a smiling, panting Roux all the while. “If he thinks I’m going to carry him
and
his sad Charlie Brown tree all the way back to the car, well, he can just think again. You
had
to go sniff him out, didn’t you? In this weather, after the day we’ve had, you had to find the only man in the state of Colorado who apparently doesn’t know how to drive a snowmobile.”

Thankfully his slick , colorful snowsuit made his transfer easier than it should have been. The man was well over two hundred pounds of pure heavy. Solid muscle, Georgia was willing to bet. Perfect muscle to go with his Photoshop face. And apart from his bruises, it
was
perfect. A thing of beauty. But she knew handsome didn’t necessarily equal smart. Any man joyriding on a death machine in this mess couldn’t be all that clever to begin with.

The tree. He’d mentioned the tree. Why? Maybe he had a little daughter he wanted to surprise, and no money for anything better. But then the snowmobile wouldn’t make any sense.

She bit her lip. Maybe he was going to propose to his girlfriend, and this was part of some special mountain people ritual. First retrieve a scraggly tree, then the fur of the elusive Sasquatch, and
then
a ring.

Her vivid imagination kept her occupied and her griping down to a minimum until she got him to the SUV.  “Now I just have to get you inside.”

Getting him into the passenger seat was difficult. She was glad he wasn’t awake, and that no one was around to witness all the tugging and pushing and embarrassing groping she had to do to get any leverage. Or the fact that she might have given him an extra bruise or two in the process. Honestly, she could hardly believe she’d done it at all. 

She was gasping for air by the time she was done, but at least the activity had warmed her a bit. She’d just leaned her forehead against his shoulder when he moaned again. Damn.

“We need to get you some help. Let me just lower the carjack—“

“Tree,” he mumbled. “Have to get the tree.”

Really? The man must have knocked whatever brains he had loose in his fall. She knew it. “I just saved your life. You can get another tree, guy. A
better
tree. I’ll buy you one myself, with all the trimmings.”

He tried to shake his head, inhaled sharply, and passed out. The rise and fall of his chest told her he was still breathing, but Connie was the nurse, not her. She had no idea how badly he was hurt. All she knew was that if he died and she hadn’t granted his last request, she’d probably spend eternity simmering in her own guilt.

Georgia hopped up and down on each leg for warmth, breathing into her cupped hands. She was a sucker. “Fine. Fine. I’ll get the tree. Roux, get back in the car so you can get warm while you watch him. And if I freeze to death, you have my permission to bite him. Hard.”

Once she had man and dog snug and safe inside the vehicle, she followed the path his body had made in the snow, untied the tiny tree from the snowmobile and grabbed the keys from the machine, though she doubted someone would make the effort to steal it in this weather. She headed back as quickly as her heavy limbs would allow, feeling the strangest desire to lay down in the whiteness. To make an angel while she still had the chance. To take a nap.

Why was she so tired?

The tree in her arms mocked her. All of a sudden it seemed symbolic of her fruitless quest for a happy holiday. It looked nearly as forlorn and alone as she felt. As hopelessly stubborn.

Stupid tree.

There would be a kind of poetry in it. Dying in the snow with a forlorn tree in her hand. The obituary would bring a tear to the eye. Her publisher would make sure of it.

Roux raced to her side, nudging her with the weight of her body, pushing Georgia forward.  “I told you to stay in the car. How did you open the door? You should be guarding your new boyfriend, girl. I’ll get there as fast as I can.” Breathing was starting to hurt. “What do you say to staying home next year? Sure it’s muggy and boring, but excitement is overrated. Maybe we can rent a snow machine and those little spray cans of snow for the windows. All the fun, none of the cold. Sounds like a plan to me.”

Roux whined. It sounded vaguely like the honking of a horn.

Georgia closed her eyes and saw nothing but the same bright white as when her lids were lifted. She’d only been in it for a few hours, but she was already beginning to hate the snow.

Adamant honking mixed with barking rang in her ears and made her force her eyes open again.  Maybe the tow truck driver had finally arrived. Surely he would help get snowmobile guy to safety. As for Georgia, as soon as she could feel her toes again she was hopping the next boat to Cozumel in honor of Connie, and following through on her promise to give up once and for all on Christmas. She’d pick another holiday to obsess over.

Maybe Groundhog Day.

Available Now!

By R.G. Alexander

Blinded to the Present...Avoiding the Future...Running from the Past

The Smutketeers Present: A Kinky Christmas Carol!

The Knight Family is a wealthy, powerful Chicago clan that knows everything there is to know about making money—but they have plenty to learn about love. In this three series novella—Eden Bradley's
Getting Scrooged
, Robin L Rotham's
Not So Tiny Tim
and R.G. Alexander's
Marley in Chains
—you’ll meet Holly Knight, her nephew Tim, and her cousin Marley Knight-Williams as they face their ghosts, fulfill their fantasies and finally discover the magic of Christmas.

Marley in Chains

Chapter One

“I don’t care how many messages you’ve taken or from whom—Saint Nick himself could be on line two—under no circumstances are you to bother her today.”

Marley inhaled deeply and focused on slowing her breathing as she adjusted her Bluetooth and kept pace on the treadmill. “Douglas, don’t be a drama queen.
One
day. Ms. Knight needs her rest and the only thing I’m allowing on her schedule is the merger negotiation this evening at Tru. Just make sure she has her preferred table,
and
the chef knows we would consider it a personal favor if he skipped his usual visit. The man would hover all night otherwise. A thank-you card and one of your special goody baskets should soothe his pride.”

She paused to listen to the secretary’s rapid rambling, struggling to concentrate and keep up her fast jog at the same time. “She
has
the file. She’s had it for days. There’s no need for you to join them for the dinner.”

Marley chuckled breathlessly as suspicion surfaced. “Douglas, you
dog
, I’m on to you. You just want a peek at the infamous Ebenezer Hall, don’t you?” His denial was lacking its usual indignation. “Uh huh, thought so. Well, tough, buddy. Now stop driving me crazy and bring this month’s invitations. You remember…the actual reason I called you? Leave the box with the new doorman. His name is Frost. And stop worrying, the boss has things well in hand.”

She hoped. She also hoped Holly wasn’t writing a “Dear Marley” termination notice after last night’s margarita incident. Nepotism wouldn’t save her if she ruined this meeting. She was about to say goodbye when Douglas spoke again. “
What
? Yes, I know hitting on you is pointless, dear. I’m running, not flirting. And I expect those invites before lunch.
Goodbye, Douglas
.”

Marley Knight-Williams
was
running. Had been for the past hour, as if her life depended on it. Sweat dripped down her temples and brought a glimmering sheen to her strong, bare arms. Her long curls—swinging from the sloppy ponytail she’d confined them in— were damp with it as she picked up her pace, her sneakered feet pounding out a rhythm meant to cleanse her of the wicked demon alcohol.

That wasn’t the only thing she was running from.

She shouldn’t have taken Holly to that restaurant last night. It had been an impulse. A reaction to a momentary expression of sadness on her cousin’s face. One Marley had recognized. In that moment she forgot that she was Holly Knight’s super assistant and remembered that they were friends. Family. Remembered it was the Christmas season, almost Holly’s fortieth birthday, and how rough this particular holiday had always been in general. For both of them.

But that place. Why had she decided to take her there, when there were so many other restaurants, so many other bars she knew of where no one would recognize Holly Knight, the current head of
the
Chicago Knights and their vast financial empire? Where her cousin could relax and finally let her hair down. Could just be herself.

Marley ran faster, her thighs burning as she increased her speed and incline. It had been more than the thought of Cadillac margaritas that had drawn her back. She’d known it the instant she’d stepped inside. The memories in that tiny, darkened Mexican dive were like old ghosts shoved in a corner booth, waiting patiently for their check. Waiting for her, right where she’d left them.

Seventeen years and nothing had changed. Not even—she’d realized when she drunkenly wobbled to the restroom to freshen up—the carved initials on the small table in the corner.
CMJ
.

She remembered when the three of them had done that. Hidden their handiwork behind menus as they laughingly huddled together, knowing their friend Marco’s father would have made them spend the night washing dishes if they’d been caught. It was stupid and they’d been so young. In it together. Marley and her boys forever.

But forever had ended abruptly. Painfully. And she’d tried not to look back since.

She blew out a frustrated breath and pushed the stop button, jumping off her machine and reaching for her water bottle. She drank until the bottle caved in, knowing she would need a few more before the hangover headache went completely away, and headed for the shower in her master bathroom.

She slipped off her sneakers and socks before stepping on the plush bedroom carpet, her toes sinking into the cool, luxurious material. “The little things,” she sighed. Her stepfather used to say that. “Notice the little things.” Sometimes they were all that kept you going. Kept you hanging on when life got rough.

She rolled her eyes at her maudlin thoughts as she looked around her decadent bedroom suite. Life was
not
that rough. It hadn’t been for a long time.

Holly had given her this place four years ago, when she’d agreed to take the job. The assistant position that had been created for her—though her cousin already had a small army of a staff—not to mention Douglas. He was Holly’s efficient and brilliant, if high maintenance, secretary, and he’d been miffed when she was hired. But she’d quickly found his Achilles heel and won him over. Chocolate truffles and flattery went a long way with the man. All of them now answered to her. And
none
of them got this piece of prime real estate in Dickens Towers. The place that had everything for people who expected everything. It had its own restaurant, its own dry-cleaning, even the equivalent of a corner store and a florist. If you wanted to, you never had to leave the building. One of the more decadent properties in Chicago, and she got to live here as a perk of her job.