Wintertime Bad Boy: A Christmas Suspense Romance (Alphas Unboxed Book 3) Read online

  Wintertime Bad Boy

  Emelia Blair

  Copyright © 2020 by Emelia Blair

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For all the girls that they dream of a bad boy…

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  “Dr. Arnold! Where’s Dr. Arnold?!”

  I step aside as Nurse Annie rushes past me, her brown eyes tight. In the midst of closing the strap of my bag, I watch as she grabs another night nurse by the arm and tersely questions her.

  I cough discreetly and both women turn to look in my direction. “Did you check the medicine supply closet?”

  Dr. Arnold is known for taking long naps in the pharmacy area.

  “I’m going to wring his damn neck one of these days,” Annie curses and then shoots me a distracted smile. “Be careful on your way home, Alex.”

  I nod, tightening my hand around the strap of my bag. Slipping into the locker room, I change out of my nurse’s uniform and then pull on my jacket, making sure I have my scarf and gloves. Running my fingers through my hair, I glance at my reflection in the mirror, a wry smile on my face. It’s really hard to get some color in the winter. My skin is pale, my cheeks flush with the cold. Bright blue eyes that are large on my thin face, often described as doe-like, and short jet-black hair that is sticking up from my head, gives me more of a tomboyish look.

  Maybe I should consider actually going to a salon and not hacking away at my hair with the kitchen scissors. If not for my curvy figure, I would end up being mistaken for a boy, considering how I dress. But if I ever decide to go for feminine attire, I end up looking way younger than I am and constantly being carded at bars is starting to get really damaging to my ego.

  “You off for the night, Alex?” a friendly voice says from behind me, cutting me off my thoughts.

  My lips curve slightly, as I turn my head to look at one of the male nurses. “Aren’t you leaving?”

  Henry William shakes his head, regretfully. “I’m putting in overtime. Mary is due any day so any extra income helps.”

  I smile as I close my locker door. “Let me know if you ever need help with babysitting.”

  He pats my shoulder heavily. “Considering you live down the street, you should be scared.”

  I chuckle and wave at him as I walk out, bidding goodbye to the nurses at the station who are all busy watching Annie scold a yawning Dr. Arnold who is nodding insistently as if he isn’t ignoring everything she’s saying.

  It’s a familiar sight and I can’t help but feel comforted by it.

  Stepping outside the hospital that’s become a second home for me, I shiver at the harsh cold wind that blasts against my face and bitterly wish that just for once, November in New York would not be this awful. The walk to the bus station is long and I’m mentally calculating whether I have the funds to purchase some more clothes. I know there is a flea market setting up in a week’s time, in a neighborhood near here. If I slip out during my break, I might be able to find something decent.

  I wait for nearly half an hour for the bus and then check the schedule in frustration. A curse slips past my lips when I realize that it’s not running tonight.

  “Great,” I mutter to the wind. “Freaking fantastic.”

  Tugging off my gloves, I reach into my bag and take out my purse to see if I have enough for an Uber. I let out a groan when I realize I am broke at the moment. My salary will be deposited into my account by the end of the week and nearly half of it will go to make a payment on my father’s medical bills.

  If Dad were still here, he would grin at me and tell me to buck up and enjoy the walk home considering it’s the only exercise I might be getting. Dear, optimistic Dad. He really didn’t believe that the glass could be anything aside from half-full.

  My smile wanes at the thought and a familiar pain fills me, a staggering sense of loss and grief. I take a deep breath and steady myself, blinking harshly against the tears that are quick to come at the thought of my father. It’s been a few months since he succumbed to the cancer that had been eating away at him for two years and left me all alone, saddled with hospital bills that I never let him know existed.

  I suddenly slap my cheeks, growling. “Snap out of it Alex.”

  What I need is some hot soup and a warm bed. It’s got to be close to midnight by now but I know the small Chinese restaurant around the corner from the neighborhood where my apartment is will still be open. I know the owner so I don’t really have to worry about not having money on hand. I can always pay him back later.

  Cheered by the prospect of hot food waiting for me, my steps quicken. Not even the fact that it’s an hour’s walk to my house, deters me.

  Usually, the streets still have stragglers at this hour, but the forecast warned of snow and a lot of people seemed to have elected to stay indoors, so it’s relatively quiet and empty. I hear a few cars and one passes by me and I give it an envious look.

  Cross Field Hospital is in the city center so I have to walk past clubs and bars that are open all hours of the night and I peek into the inviting warmth, wishing I could just pop in for a drink. Even if I had the money, the very idea of being asked to show my ID and then being interrogated over it, doesn’t appeal to me. Sighing, I hum under my breath, and see a fancy well lit club in the distance. It has a red carpet rolled out, a well dressed bouncer, with an arrogant sneer on his face, and a shiny exterior.

  Gold Prey.

  A weird name for a club but it’s for the elite. Before Dad had gotten sick, I would go party with friends from work and my childhood friend Jen on occasion—we had never managed to get into it. Not even once. A fond smile touches my lips as I recall the memories from just a year ago. It seems like a lifetime ago rather than just one year. But I’ve changed drastically over the course of this year. I don’t think I can ever go back to being that person I used to be, so carefree, living in the moment.

  As I approach the club, I see two men standing at the entrance. One of them has a cigarette stuck between his teeth, his posture lazy as he leans against the wall of the club, listening to whatever the man next to him is saying.

  I blink at the sight of him.

  He’s ridiculously handsome, tanned skin, wild green eyes, thin lips, and a jaw sharp enough to cut granite. His dark hair is gathered into a small ponytail. He’s wearing a black shirt over blue jeans that are strategically ripped.

  I don’t realize that I’m standing and staring at him until his eyes lift from the pavement where he’s been gazing at as he listens to his companion, and I feel the full force of his gaze and my mouth turns dry.

  There is something dark and dangerous lurking in those eyes of his and my pulse skitters, a blend of lust and fear.

  He stares at me and then his lips curve into a smi
rk and my cheeks flush.

  He doesn’t straighten up or approach me, just watches me steadily, a mocking look in his eyes along with an invitation that the me from a year ago might have accepted. But not the current me, who is currently saddled with debt, working crazy hours and cannot afford to make rash decisions.

  When was the last time I had a man in my bed?

  A wistful feeling rises in me as I maintain eye contact with him and I squash it. Even back then I would have felt the danger this man wore like a second skin and I wouldn’t have approached him.

  I’m still frozen in the same place because now I have to walk past him and I really don’t want to do that. The other option is crossing the road and covering the remaining twenty minutes to my house that are left.

  He’s blatantly staring at me now, his eyes laughing at me, as if he can read my thoughts and I purse my lips, feeling a tingle of humiliation.

  Don’t be a coward. Don’t be a coward.

  I cross the road.

  Heat blooms in my cheeks as I feel the disappointment settle in me. I should have lifted my chin and walked past him with my head held high. Instead, I took the coward’s way out. Even from across the road, I feel the man’s eyes burning a hole in me. My core tightens and I frown.

  A breath escapes my lips.

  So the man is insanely attractive. Big deal.

  I mumble to myself, scolding myself for staring at a man in the middle of the night. I blame the exhaustion of the last few nights where I’ve been working back-to-back shifts. I pat my jacket pocket, feeling the can of mace I keep there. It offers me some measure of comfort, knowing that I’m kind of armed.

  I start walking faster, suddenly feeling weary, the image of the man burned behind my eyelids.

  He looked almost exotic. It must be illegal to be that handsome.

  “I need to get laid,” I mutter to myself. “A good fucking and I’ll be fine.”

  But who has the time to go and pick up a stranger in a bar? That sounds like so much work and effort. I think about the bottle of wine in my fridge and my next door neighbor, and for a few seconds, I contemplate seducing him. I know he finds me attractive. It would be so easy.

  It takes me a second to realize my train of thought and I blink, baffled. Did I really just contemplate seducing my neighbor? Ok, he’s cute and a really nice compassionate person but I’m not into Chen. He feels more like a brother to me.

  “Food,” I say, aloud. “I need food and a good movie on my old laptop and I’ll be fine.”

  Maybe if I say that a few more times I might actually start believing it.

  Seeing the familiar park in the distance, my shoulders relax and I can almost taste relaxation. My mouth is watering at the idea of hot food in my empty belly and I let down my guard.

  Suddenly, the cold kiss of a blade’s metal touches the only exposed part of my throat and I freeze. My brain is slow to catch up and it’s only when the man behind me starts speaking in a low growl that fear seeps into my veins. It’s a gut wrenching fear that makes me almost whimper.

  Always be aware of your surroundings, sweetheart. I can hear my dad’s whisper in my head and I suddenly feel so alone and scared that tears creep into my eyes.

  Dad, I whimper in my mind, wanting him, the child in me reaching out for that blanket of safety that no longer existed in this world.

  “Give me everything you have,” I feel the man’s hot breath on the side of my face. I can smell the liquor on his breath and I flinch.

  I try to calm my racing heart, knowing that panicking in this sort of situation will only get me killed. Nobody is going to come to my aid. I’m all I’ve got.

  The thought makes me press my lips together and I give a shaky nod, forcing some level of calm into my voice, not wanting him to panic and stab me. From the way his hands are jittery, I can tell that he’s on some kind of drug as well and that makes him even more unpredictable.

  Even as I say, “Just take the money,” I’m mentally evaluating how fast I can sprint and make it to Chen Li’s restaurant. It’s closer than my apartment. One hand creeps into my jacket pocket, fingering the mace and the other goes into my bag.

  Trying to sound relaxed, I say, “I can’t move with—”

  “Hurry up, bitch!” the man snarls and the hand holding the knife slips and I hiss in pain at the burning sensation from where he’s nicked me. “Give me your money!”

  “Why don’t you give me your money?” comes a coolly amused voice from behind us, the words layered over with a thick foreign accent that my subconscious points out helpfully as being French.

  The man lets out a threatening growl and then he shoves me forward. Detecting the greater threat and despite my best effort, I end up falling on the pavement and I can feel my skin on my knees splitting.

  The blood rushes to my head and I scramble to my feet and I see my attacker facing off against another man who is clearly taller than him and well built. My eyes find the face of my rescuer and I freeze on seeing those wild green eyes again. There’s a cold glint in them, but his lips are curved in a lazy smirk as he watches the armed man approaching him.

  “Be careful,” I cry out in warning. “He has a knife.”

  There’s a flash of amusement in those wild eyes. “Yes, mon chéri. I can tell.”

  Definitely French.

  I pull the mace just as the man lunges at my savior who doesn’t look alarmed in the slightest. It takes me a second to figure out why as he executes a textbook move, as I learned in a self-defense class I took back in college, and grabs the man’s arm, pulling it forward, snatching the knife and then hitting him with his elbow between his shoulder blades, making the mugger crash to the ground with a howl.

  I stare at them and the Frenchman kicks at the man writhing on the ground who scrambles back and then jumps to his feet with an unsteady move and makes a break for it.

  I watch him run, my heart thundering between my ears. “Th-Thank you.”

  He’s staring at me now.

  The full weight of his gaze makes my breath catch and it takes some effort to ground myself. I force myself to study the situation and my hands tighten on the mace. “Why did you follow me?”

  “Why did you run away?” he replies back.

  His hands are in his pocket and he tilts his head, studying me. Under the streetlight, his eyes glitter in a manner that almost looks inhuman. His eyes run over me and I can see the approval in them. Somehow that both offends and excites me. But after a narrow brush with death, I don’t care how attractive he is, he takes one step near me and I’ll mace his eyes off.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He smiles then, and it’s full of teeth and there’s a hunger reflecting in his verdant eyes that makes my insides tighten against my will. “A woman doesn’t give a man that kind of look and then just walks away.”

  “Maybe you’re in need of glasses,” I say tightly.

  His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip and I’m almost hypnotized by the movement. He watches me, not taking a step toward me, readily agreeing. “Maybe I do.”

  We stand there in silence and I don’t know what to do. I’m reluctant to turn my back on him. The memory of the knife pressed against my throat is still fresh and my free hand immediately darts up and I know I’m bleeding even before I touch the wound.

  Those green eyes tighten. “You’re hurt.”

  He moves then and I immediately lift out the mace and point it in his direction. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m grateful that you stepped in and saved me. But I don’t trust you any more than I trust him.”

  He stays still and I don’t understand the delight that fills his eyes. “Are you always this paranoid, mon chéri?”

  “It keeps me alive,” I say bluntly. “Now back away and start walking.”

  If it had been someone else, maybe I wouldn’t have been this harsh but there is something about this man that is putting me on edge and I can’t quite explain it. I s
ee the way his shirt presses against his well-defined muscles, his jacket unzipped, and he exudes danger and sex, and that has me even more wary.

  He chuckles and the throaty sound reaches all the way inside me and twists my inner muscles, and my lips tremble as he reaches into his jacket. “Well, Alexandra, maybe next time we see each other, maybe you’ll be less suspicious of me.”

  I freeze, “How do you—?”

  And then I see him taking out my hospital ID. “You dropped this.”

  A flush crawls over my neck, flooding my cheeks and my hand holding the mace lowers. “Is that why—?”

  He gives me a calm look but I see the laughter dancing in his eyes. “I thought you might want it back.”

  I suddenly feel like a fool. What did I think he was going to do to me?

  Even as my hand falls, he’s suddenly grasping my wrist and before I know what’s happening, I’m being pulled into his arms, his hard body pressing against mine. Bewilderment makes me gape like a fish out of water and I don’t even get the chance to protest when his mouth slams down on mine.

  My mind turns blank at the contact, heat and sizzling electricity coursing between us, making my pussy tighten. His mouth moves skillfully against mine, and he feeds me his tongue and my lips part, helpless against this assault on my senses, my own body betraying me as a soft moan escapes my lips.

  And as soon as the kiss begins, it’s over and I’m stumbling back, dazed, the cold slapping me in the face, forcing awareness into me, the enormity of what has just happened rocks me to the core.

  The Frenchman looks at me with a smirk and then licks his lips, murmuring, “You taste delicious.”

  My breath is coming out in pants and I stare at him, not knowing how to respond. Common sense tells me to hit him or mace him, while another part of me sits up in interest, taken aback by the blinding chemistry.