Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (49 page)

Chapter 13

Dalton stood in his office, hating himself for several moments, and then he rushed out the door and peered around the corner into the long hallway. He watched Billie stride with her head held high the last few steps and then burst through the door with confidence and anger.

He’d hurt her anyway, no matter how hard he’d tried to keep things simple. Returning to his office, Dalton felt desolate, and that pissed him off. In a rage, he growled and swiped everything off his desk, including the monitor connected to his computer and his crystal paperweight. He took the wooden chair he used for extra guests – which he never had – and smashed it against the wall. It splintered all over the room.

He started to kick the desk, thought better of it as his toe still throbbed, and slammed his fist into it instead. The pain made him howl, and he realized he’d cracked a couple of knuckles. Looking down at his hand, he saw plenty of blood, and the whole thing made him even angrier.

He reached into the closet and pulled out his shirt from last night, the only thing he had to wrap around the wounds, and he tore a couple of strips off, gritting his teeth at how it enhanced the agony already throbbing in his hand. The door to his office flew open, crashing against the wall, and Brock stood there, scowling. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“Nothing,” Dalton growled. But Brock’s eyes landed on the cloth he had yet to wrap and tie, and the bloody knuckles.

“Christ, Dalton, who did you hit?”

“I didn’t hit anyone.” Wincing as he pulled one strip tight, he said, “I hit the desk.”

“Stop. Just stop.” Brock stepped forward and slapped his good hand away from the wounds. “How many are broken?”

“I don’t know. Three, maybe four.” Dalton failed to care. He was too busy kicking himself for making enough noise to call attention to himself. “I can take care of it. Just go.”

“No way, Dalton. Come on, we’re getting this wrapped properly. And cleaning them up first.” Dalton didn’t move, but Brock wasn’t going to leave until he followed. “Don’t test me right now, Dalton. So help me, I’ll break your other hand, and it’ll be more than three or four knuckles.”

With an aggravated sigh, Dalton stomped past Brock, heading to the small triage center they kept for small incidents and emergencies, knowing that was where his boss wanted to take him. He didn’t wait or slow down – Brock would be behind him, keeping a slight distance so he didn’t ignite the nuclear bomb inside Dalton that was just waiting to be triggered. He hadn’t felt like this since he was in detox, and he didn’t like it now. He felt out of control, and he hated not being in complete control of everything in his life.

He was as cooperative for the nurse as he could be, mostly staying limp and letting her manipulate his hand as she needed to wrap it. His anger made him fairly numb, so he didn’t really feel the pain so much as she worked. When it was done, he jumped off the table and started to leave, shouldering past Brock, who stood silently in the doorway through the whole procedure.

“My office, now,” Brock said quietly but with clear command.

Dalton scoffed. “Don’t bother. I quit.” He was done with Vegas, done with the Cobras, done with women for a while. He needed a nice, long vacation by himself. He would get on his bike and ride until he got far enough away to feel like he’d shed every bit of frustration and pressure he’d built recently.

“Fine. You quit. You still have to come to my office.”

Brock wasn’t going to let it go, and with a snarl, Dalton pivoted on his heel, turning away from the front door of the hotel and toward the casino. His head was filled with white noise that was giving him a migraine, and it was so loud he couldn’t hear the cacophony of the machines and screams of winning or losing as he passed through. He barely hesitated at the door to the offices, not caring if his slammed right through it and knocked it off its hinges.

He was already in Brock’s office, waiting and growing impatient, when his friend and boss finally arrived. Worse, Tanya walked in behind him. Dalton groaned. “Seriously? This is not an intervention because I won’t allow it. I’m not in that kind of trouble, and I don’t need anyone’s help. I just want to go home.”

“You’re right,” Brock said with a nod. “But someone’s going to have to take over the coordination of this fashion event, and Tanya needs you to give her the details before you go so she can head up the team.”

Dalton glanced back and forth between them, certain this was a joke. But Tanya smiled and said, “I’m sure it’s all in a file somewhere, but if you can give me a quick rundown, it’ll make it easier to read through the notes and figure out who’s who and what’s what.”

“You can’t be serious,” Dalton said, directing his comment to Brock.

“Why not? You said you quit, and obviously, you’re injured and not in the best state of mind. I assume you want to keep your distance from specific individuals involved in the event, so I’m concerned about your mental health. I think it’s probably in everyone’s best interest if you at least take a leave of absence. I refuse to accept your resignation under the circumstances, but if you take the leave, clear your head, and still want to quit, we’ll discuss it.”

Dalton laughed and shook his head. “Okay, Brock, I’ll play your little game. I’ll take Tanya to my office, give her the file, and explain the setup. The whole event is planned out so well it’ll practically run itself anyway. And then, I’m packing up my personal things from my office and getting the hell out of here.” He turned to his boss’s old lady. “You coming?”

She nodded and followed him out of Brock’s office. He had a hard time believing it was this easy, and he was skeptical about the whole thing. In fact, Dalton was pretty sure he would get to his office, and Tanya would read him the riot act and try to talk some sense into him. She was going to fail miserably. He had already come to his senses, which is what had prompted the outburst in the first place.

But as it turned out, all Tanya did was ask a question here and there during his explanation of the file to clarify something and make notes. And when Dalton was finished, she said, “Okay. I guess I better hurry up and change. The fireworks start soon. Take care of yourself, Dalton. I’d really like it if you came back. I think quitting would be a mistake.”

She walked out, and Dalton knew she was right. He shouldn’t quit. He just needed the distance from Billie. When she was gone, and he’d been able to push her out of his mind, he’d be better off coming back to work, where he’d have plenty of distractions to keep his thoughts straight.

He’d intended to pack up his things, but he decided against it. He simply grabbed his vest and jacket, changed into his boots, favoring his injured hand, and left. Once he had his bike, he’d go home, shower again, and head to the clubhouse to get rip roaring drunk.

Chapter 14

When Tanya showed up in Dalton’s place, Billie knew instantly why. Of course, Tanya told her he’d injured himself, and while Billie figured that was probably true, she also assumed it was related to their fight. For some reason, she kept hoping he would come back, change his mind, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She knew better; Dalton was the worst kind of stubborn and would never admit he was wrong.

Still, when it came time for her showcase, she held out hope that he would come for it. But as she scanned the crowd from backstage, she didn’t see him. Disappointment flooded her, but she focused on the show. This was the most important moment of her career so far, and it had to go off without a hitch.

At first, things were a little frantic as one of the models broke the heel off her shoe just before going on stage. But one of her costume assistants had another pair on her in seconds, and the catastrophe was avoided. She glanced out after the girl, making sure she hadn’t twisted her ankle so she’d end up biting it on the runway.

And she saw him.

He was hiding in a shadow off to the left, but he was there, watching the show. She sighed in relief. Maybe he refused to accept that they needed to be together, but at least he was loyal. And this showed that he cared. If she played her cards right, Billie thought she might even be able to corner him and apologize for her anger. She was over that. She just wanted to try one more time to convince him to give her a chance.

But the roar of cheers and applause at the end of the show kept her on stage for quite some time, taking a bow and waving to the crowd. It felt amazing to be in the spotlight and revered in such a way as reporters snapped photo after photo, but eventually, she ducked out. And, of course, it had given Dalton plenty of time to duck out.

The festivities were scheduled to last far into the night, but Billie didn’t feel like talking to a bunch of admirers tonight. She was beside herself with excitement over her reception, but she wasn’t in the mood to celebrate publicly. She wanted to pull her crew aside tomorrow before they left and open a bottle of champagne while she thanked them all for making this possible.

Catching sight of Tanya, Billie gently excused herself from a couple of the people trying to talk to her and went over to the woman. She liked Tanya a lot, and she knew that she could ask Tanya just about anything and get what she wanted.

“Congratulations! You are a huge hit!” Tanya said, hugging her with an ear to ear grin. “How do you feel?”

“Surreal,” Billie laughed. “Listen, Tanya, I know I shouldn’t do this, but I need to ask you a big favor. If you can’t help me, I get it. But I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

She frowned. “What do you need, Billie? I’d be more than happy to help you, if I can.”

With a mischievous grin, Billie asked, “When the room is reset and the food is set up, can you come up to the penthouse to talk?”

Tanya looked at her curiously. “Sure. Give me about fifteen minutes.”

***

As Billie climbed off the back of the motorcycle and Tanya removed her helmet, shaking her hair out, Billie asked, “How long have you been riding?”

“Not that long. I moved here from Texas after I quit my job at the FBI almost a year ago to be with Brock, and I guess I got a bike about four months later.”

Billie was shocked. Apparently, everyone had a secret in their past. “FBI?”

“Yep. I thought it was what I wanted to do with my life, but I was sorely mistaken.” She motioned toward the door. “Well, we’re here. If you want to do this, lead the way. I’ll block the exit behind you.”

Laughing, Billie strode forward and threw open the door to the clubhouse.

She hadn’t needed to work very hard at talking Tanya into bringing her here. In fact, Tanya had taken Billie back to the house she shared with Brock, and they’d both dressed in leather pants, bustier tops, and leather jackets with knee high boots. As it turned out, they were virtually the same size, and Billie felt good standing next to someone who could look that good in these clothes. Tanya was a complete enigma, and she would definitely have to get to know the woman better.

But right now, she had other issues to take care of, and she had at least two dozen pairs of eyes on her. Everyone in the clubhouse seemed to be staring her down, and it took her a minute to spot Dalton among them. He stood on the other side of a pool table, and it made Billie incredibly happy to see that he was nearly drooling.

“Close your mouths, boys,” Tanya called out with an air of authority. “Mind your own business.” Most of them went back to what they’d been doing, though Billie was well aware they were still attuned to her as she strode through the place toward Dalton.

She rounded the table and stepped right up to him, forcing him to acknowledge her. She noted the bandage around his hand and instinctively knew he’d punched something, and that something had won. He swallowed visibly and said, “What are you doing here, Billie?”

“Tracking you down,” she answered simply. “You came to the show.”

He shrugged. “I spent a lot of time putting it together. I wanted to make sure it went down as well as I hoped.”

But Billie shook her head. “You weren’t there every night. Only tonight.” He didn’t say anything, just stood there with a stubborn, defiant expression. Billie sighed. “Just stop, Dalton. This is crazy. You can tell me the time we spent together was a mistake until you take your last breath, and I know you don’t really believe that.”

He rolled his eyes. “What is it you want me to say? That I got nervous because I actually felt something, so I ran? That I tried to stop it from progressing before I got in over my head and just ended up pissing off everyone in the process, including myself? That I’ve spent the last few nights trying to drink myself into oblivion so I wouldn’t think about you and change my mind? Or that I can’t get the sight of you naked beneath me out of my head and the feel of you in my arms off my skin, no matter how hard I scrub?”

He slammed his uninjured hand on the pool table. “Damn it, Billie, I smell you every time your face comes into my head. If I look at another woman now, I compare her to you. You have singlehandedly screwed up everything I loved about my life.”

“You think I feel any better?” she challenged. “I’ve done nothing but search for you every waking moment. I’ve felt guilty ever since I walked away from you, and knowing you were hurt made me worry about you. My show was a huge success, and I didn’t even want to celebrate because all I could think about was being with you and begging you to give it another chance. I’m not going to say you ruined it, but you did take a lot of the joy out of it for me. Do you think that’s fair? And all because you’re too damn proud and stubborn to admit you have feelings for me!”

“So what if I do?” he threw back. They’d gotten loud, and now, everyone in the clubhouse was watching and listening. But Billie didn’t care, and apparently, neither did Dalton. “You’re going back to New York tomorrow, and I have no business there. I don’t do long distance, so we might as well just go our separate ways. I was doing just fine with that until you walked in here.”

“And now?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Now, I’m screwed up and confused and angry all over again. I want to put a fist through a wall.”

“It looks like you’ve already done that,” she smirked, and he scowled at her. Closing her eyes, Billie took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “Dalton, I’m falling for you, and I don’t know if you’re that far into it yet, but I know you’re on your way. Say you’ll try to make it work with me, and I’ll cancel my flight home. I’ll have my things delivered here, get an apartment somewhere. And if things don’t work out, I’ll go home. But I don’t think that’s the case. I think we’re meant to be together.”

She read the fear in his eyes in big, block letters, but she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She opened her mouth to say more, but before she could get the words out, he pressed his hands to either side of her face and drew her into a kiss that poured all his fear, longing, and desperation into her. She welcomed it, sending back her need, love, and hope.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes devoured her, but they were alight and dancing. “You are persistent.”

“It usually gets me what I want,” she said, waiting for him to say the words she so badly wanted to hear.

“I would have let you go, if you’d just left,” he growled. “But you didn’t take the exit I gave you. I hope you know you’re stuck with me now.”

Joy spread through Billie like wildfire, and she kissed him again. This time, she broke the kiss and told him, “I’d rather be stuck with you than without you.”

***

THE END