Elaine Overton - His Holiday Bride

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To the light of my life,

My son

Acknowledgments

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

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

First, to the creator of all, my Father, my Savior, my Comforter…thank you.

Second, to my editor, Demetria Lucas. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to work on this project, and be a part of this terrific series.

Finally, to the wonderful authors who worked with me on this project, Brenda Jackson, Jacquelin Thomas and Gwynne Forster. Thank you, ladies, for your help in understanding how the pieces fit together, and for your willingness to share what you know.

“I’m not really sure what you expect me to do, Luther. I mean…how old is this girl?” Paul Gutierrez spoke into the wireless headset even while continuing to type away on the laptop braced against the steering wheel, and monitoring the activity of those leaving the back entrance of the posh L.A. nightclub across the street.

“Twenty-one.” His friend, and former Navy SEAL commander, Luther Biggens, practically groaned on the other end of the phone line, already sensing defeat.

“Twenty-one? She’s a legal adult. If she wants to be with this basketball player there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Try explaining that to her sisters.”

“Listen, man, I really wish I could help you—” Paul suddenly snapped to attention when the person he’d been looking for peeked his head around the door.

Paul sat completely still while he watched a member of his personal protection team, Barnett Roberts, look up and down the alleyway before stepping out.

Like most of the members of his personal security force Barney was a large, muscular man. His smoothly shaven head and creamy chocolate skin made his age indeterminable at a glance. He was a former Army Special Forces soldier, and had been with G-Force Security for almost two years, which was why Paul had resisted believing the signs that led him to the most obvious conclusion.

Luther continued to plead his case. “All I’m asking is that you check out the situation. This guy is no good. If anything happens to this girl…”

“I understand.” Paul watched the scene unfolding across the street with narrowed eyes. Barney was now signaling to someone at the other end of the alley. “Tell you what, I’ll find her and make sure she’s okay. Beyond that, there’s not a lot I can do if she doesn’t want to leave.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate this.”

“No thanks necessary. We’re brothers.” Paul spoke of the emotional bond between men-in-arms, not the genetic one, but he knew Luther would understand. There was a time he would’ve thought Barney understood, but not anymore.

As a van began to slowly pull toward Barney, Paul sat up in the bucket seat of the nondescript vehicle he often used for surveillance and gently placed his laptop on the passenger seat. “Luther, I gotta go.” He never took his eyes off his employee.

“All right. Just give me a call as soon as you find her.”

“I will.” Paul pressed the end button on his cell phone, unlocked the car door and slowly began to get out. The van came to a stop several feet from the back door of the club, and a small-framed, young white male stepped out. He exchanged a few words to Barney before reaching into the side of the van.

For all the high-tech, million-dollar equipment he used in his line of work as a security consultant, Paul felt few things served him better than the fleet of Motor City subcompact cars his company routinely used. So common and ordinary, no one ever noticed people getting in and out of them. It was this blandness that allowed him to cross the alley in plain sight of both men without drawing their attention.

It wasn’t until he’d almost reached them that they spotted him. He watched Barney’s eyes widen in surprise as the other man turned from the van holding a small video camera.

“B-boss, what are you doing here?” Barney managed to stutter out. The sweat was already beginning to form on his forehead.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Paul’s deep baritone voice was intimidating under usual circumstances, but with the hint of menace lacing each word there was no mistaking the hidden threat. “Aren’t you supposed to be inside watching Lacy Hill?”

The man with the camera looked from his informant to Paul and correctly surmised the situation.

He extended his hand with a bright smile. “You must be Paul Gutierrez, the mastermind behind G-Force Security Systems. Tom Stringer, National Examiner. What an honor to meet you, sir.”

Paul had also taken inventory and fully understood the situation. He’d come here tonight based on a suspicion that had just been proven true. He glanced at the extended hand before turning his complete attention back to his employee. “What are you doing out here in the alley with a reporter when you’re supposed to be inside looking after our client?”

“Um, I can explain everything.” Barney’s eyes darted in every direction like a cornered animal.

Just then the back door to the club opened, and rising pop star Lacy Hill spilled through the door surrounded by an entourage of colorful bodies. The top of the petite singer’s curly brunette head was barely visible amongst the barrage of people whom she insisted be allowed to follow her everywhere. As a precaution, Paul had had each of the flunkies thoroughly investigated and was satisfied that beyond suffocating her no one in the group posed a serious threat. A black-clad bodyguard closed in the small gaggle of people on three sides. Barney made up the fourth man of the detail.

The three large men were each looking around their positions for overzealous fanatics and ruthless paparazzi. None commented on the fourth member of their team and their boss standing off to the side.

Paul, who believed in complete honesty amongst his team members, had already explained the situation with Barney, and what he planned to do about it.

The crowd moved along like a giant, nosy beast pushing at a snail’s pace with each vying for Lacy’s attention.

Apparently Tom Stringer wasn’t about to let this opportunity get away. He lifted his camera for some exclusive closeups of Lacy Hill. His eyes glistened greedily as he no doubt heard the chiming of a cash register.

Suddenly, Paul collared him and held him in a vise grip. “Not so fast,” he growled, holding the reporter slightly off the ground.

Two limousines stopped in front of Lacy and her group. The drivers hurried around and opened the doors. The dozen or so people tried to push their way into the car with Lacy, but the ones who couldn’t get in rushed back to the second car so as not to be left behind.