Holidays are Hell Devil May Care Read online

  Holidays Are Hell: Devil May Care

  Sam Cheever

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2013 Sam Cheever

  BIN: 06190-01988

  Formats Available:

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  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  315 N. Centre St.

  Martinsburg, WV 25404

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Katriena Knights

  Cover Artist: Reneé George

  Table of Contents

  Holidays are Hell: Devil May Care

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Sam Cheever

  Adult Sexual Content

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  Holidays are Hell: Devil May Care

  Sam Cheever

  When your name is Valentine, February’s pretty much gonna suck.

  Valentine Smith H-A-T-E-S the month of February. The constant jokes about her name and comparisons to the chubby guy with arrows are enough to make her want to run and hide for the entire month.

  But, this Valentine’s Day, the ultimate joke is about to be played on poor Valentine. She’s supposed to choke on a chocolate heart and die. You’d think that would be bad enough. But when she misses her chance to die, she finds herself running from an overly ambitious angel and a sexier-than-hell devil named Abbadon. In the race between good and evil it’s no contest. Hell has sexy green eyes, lots of yummy muscles, and a truly decadent pair of lips to ease her pain!

  Chapter One

  “Valentine Marie Smith, you come out of there!”

  “I’m not coming out until the holiday from Hell is over!”

  Another round of pounding on her locked door had Valentine covering her head with a pillow. “Go away!”

  “Honey, it’s just a party with friends. I promise you’ll have fun.”

  Valentine snorted into her pillowcase. “Fun is not a word I ever associate with Valentine’s Day.” She cringed when her roommate screamed in frustration.

  “Okay. Have it your way. Stay here all alone in your pajamas and pout.”

  “I will. Thanks. Have fun.”

  “I refuse to have fun without you.”

  Valentine smiled. She knew better. Her beautiful, lighthearted roomie would be in her element at the Valentine’s party. Surrounded by doting men and women who wanted to be her friend in the hope that some of her perfection would rub off on them, Aimee would have enough fun for both of them.

  Still, as Valentine lay there on her bed and listened to the sound of Aimee leaving the apartment, she couldn’t help feeling a little sad. Part of her -- a tiny part -- wished she could go to the party and have fun too. But the stupid holiday was the bane of her existence, and she’d sworn off all celebration of it.

  She refused to buy or accept cards or gifts, and she’d turned down all invitations. She’d even said no to a date with a cute guy she met the previous week at her favorite club. She was determined not to contribute to the stupidity that was Valentine’s Day.

  Still, as the apartment throbbed with silence, the window glass crackling as an evening chill replaced an unseasonable warmth, she couldn’t help feeling a little lonely.

  Restless and bored, Valentine got out of bed and headed into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. Her stomach rumbled as she opened the refrigerator door and looked inside. It was filled with food, but it might as well have been empty. Aimee was a health nut and only bought stuff that was good for them.

  Valentine was in the mood for comfort food. Which for her meant junk food. Fifteen minutes later, she had to settle for a bowl of sugary cereal that Aimee hadn’t been able to talk her out of buying. She headed back to her room with the cereal, intending to send some emails and then settle into bed to watch a movie.

  Setting her cereal bowl on the nightstand, Valentine carried her laptop to the bed and climbed under the covers. She clicked the television on and spent the next half hour visiting her favorite online spots and responding to emails from family and friends.

  A chat message popped up and Valentine grinned. Artcritic1 had taken the bait.

  Good evening, StolenHeart.

  Hello, critic. Have you given any thought to my proposition?

  I have. I’d like to discuss it over dinner tonight.

  Valentine frowned. She really didn’t want to go out. But she’d been trying to cultivate that particular client for months. She stared at the blinking cursor on the screen, unsure how to respond.

  StolenHeart?

  Sighing, Valentine made the only decision she could. Where and when?

  Nourrir le Cœur, eight o’clock.

  Valentine glanced at the clock. She had an hour to shower, dress, and catch a ride across town. It would be a stretch, but for the chance to steal the famed Walk Along the Seine, she’d manage it. She typed I’ll be wearing a red dress and shut down her computer, heading for the shower.

  * * *

  Abbadon crossed his arms and glared at the assembly. He’d never heard of such a thing. “This is bullshit, chief. Can’t we do something to stop them?”

  The scaly red devil sitting at the front of the hall shook his horned head, his clawed hand tightening visibly on his pitchfork. “We’ve tried, guide. But ever since Damian’s naughty vixen chose Hell over the pearly palace, they’ve been on the warpath. They’re determined to grab our supplicants before we do.”

  “But what good will it do them? A damned soul is a damned soul.”

  The judge curled a scaly, red lip. “New regs. They’ve put an escape clause into their application. Any naughty soul who qualifies for the upper levels of Hell can be given probationary status in Heaven for a term of twenty years. They figure by that time they’ll either have recruited the lost soul or we’ll have lost them in our system. Our record-keeping sucks compared to theirs. They can afford the best software. There’s just no money in being bad anymore.” He shook his massive head. “Either way, we lose a soul and their numbers improve.”

  Abbadon glanced at the large screen playing behind the assembly. A woman with long, straight black hair that hung like a silk curtain over her pale arms was climbing into a taxi. She wore a tight, red dress cut in an oriental style, with a high neckline and cap sleeves. With long, toned limbs, a pert behind, and bright blue eyes overscored by a straight fringe of silky bangs, she was exo
tic and stunning. “That her?” She carried a long, black coat over her arm and appeared to be in a hurry.

  The chief judge nodded without turning. “Yes. She’ll arrive at the restaurant in twenty minutes. She’ll be late and hurrying. You need to arrive first and get rid of the man she’s meeting.”

  Abbadon frowned, his stomach twisting with doubt. “I don’t like it, sir. It feels way too much like we’re tampering with that woman’s fate.”

  The chief judge slammed his pitchfork into the ground and glared down at Abbadon. “Just do what you’re told, guide. It’s not your place to question the assembly.”

  Abbadon tightened his jaw against an angry retort, his fists clenching at his sides. “As you wish.”

  “Here, try to get her to sign this. Once she signs it, she’s ours.”

  Abbadon inhaled a cloud of smoke and glared down at the nasty creature holding a scroll toward him. The small, round man wore wire-rimmed glasses and stood in a haze of smoke that rose from the cigarette dangling between his lips. Worm was the clerk for the assembly vault and a really reprehensible human being. “You don’t seriously expect me to hand the woman a scroll covered in micro-script written in blood, do you?”

  Worm grinned around the cigarette. “You don’t seriously expect me to answer that, do you?”

  Abbadon longed to yank that cigarette out of Worm’s nasty mouth and shove it up his ass. Instead he grabbed the scroll. “Fuck you, Worm.”

  The round-faced clerk shook his head. “I must be the most delectable morsel. You guys are always propositioning me.”

  The chief judge looked down at his supplicant tablet, waving a red-clawed hand dismissively. “Get a move on, PD Abbadon. The woman will be arriving at the restaurant shortly.”

  Feeling the weight of his job as he rarely did, Abbadon turned on his heel and stalked from the assembly vault. He headed for the nearest portal to Earth. At least if he got his hands on her before the men in white did, he could protect her.

  If necessary he’d keep her from choking to death until a better time. It was the least he could do, given that she’d unwittingly become a pawn in a battle between Heaven and Hell.

  * * *

  “Please hurry. I’m late.” Valentine sat back and watched the buildings on either side of the taxi flash by. She twined her hands nervously, a habit she’d had since she was a child and had been unable to break. She’d worked long and hard to reel in Artcritic1, and she didn’t want to lose him because of something as stupid as being late to their meeting.

  Glancing at her diamond watchband for the tenth time in as many seconds, Valentine squirmed in her seat. “Take the next turn.”

  The cabbie glared at her in the rearview mirror but managed to resist commenting. She knew she was being anal. Of course he knew where he was going. But she couldn’t help herself. She’d been a control freak all her life. She wasn’t about to stop now. Not when it had served her so well over the years.

  She finally saw the lighted sign of the restaurant up ahead. Gathering her purse and gloves off the seat, she pulled a bill out of her wallet and handed it to the cabbie. “Thanks.”

  She was climbing out of the cab before it rocked completely to a stop. When she stepped down onto the curb her heel slipped, pitching her forward. Valentine gave an alarmed squeal.

  A hard pair of hands grabbed her arms, banding them in delicious heat. The hands tugged her upright, and she stumbled into a body as firm and warm as the hands. A deep, soft voice rumbled next to her ear. “You okay?”

  She turned her head and saw a broad shoulder covered in a charcoal gray tweed sport coat. “I… yes.” She tried to pull away. “I’m fine. Thank you for helping me avert that nose dive.”

  He released her and she turned, pulling a surprised gasp of air into her lungs as she got a good look at him.

  He was gorgeous.

  The man had to be over seven feet tall, and he was built like a mountain. He had deep-set, bright green eyes with lashes that curled softly at the tips. His hair hung in glossy waves to below his chin, and he’d tucked it behind his ears. His face was square, with strong, masculine features and a sensual mouth. His prominent chin had a sexy little indentation in the center.

  Yummy.

  Momentarily forgetting her meeting with Artcritic1, Valentine smiled and offered him her hand. “I’m Valentine.”

  As soon as she told him her name she instinctively cringed. But her yummy hero didn’t react to her name at all. Instead he bent over her hand and kissed it with old-world charm. “Abbadon. But my friends call me Don.”

  She took note of the slight accent. “English?”

  “Australian, actually.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you. I…” She suddenly remembered her meeting. “Yikes! I’m sorry. I’m late for a meeting.” She turned around and started toward the restaurant.

  Don fell into step beside her. “I’m afraid I’m late for my meeting as well.”

  A delicious thought occurred as Don pulled the restaurant door open for her. Was it possible? “You’re…” She stepped inside. “You’re not by any chance Artcritic1?” She pulled her coat off as they entered the pleasantly warm restaurant. Red and white lights twinkled from the beams overhead, and heart-shaped balloons floated everywhere.

  Don helped her off with her coat and smiled. “Red dress. Wonderful!” He extended a very large hand. “Let me introduce myself again. I’m Artcritic1, and you must be StolenHeart?”

  Chapter Two

  Valentine couldn’t believe her luck. Not only had she landed her long-awaited meeting with Artcritic1, but he was everything she’d hoped he’d be and more. “Good heavens. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, finally. Shall we sit down?”

  Don gave his name to the hostess, and she led them to a quiet booth at the back of the restaurant. Don was apparently not only gorgeous, he was also smart. He’d chosen a restaurant elegant enough to encourage a respect for privacy, yet noisy enough to ensure it.

  Valentine slid into the booth and accepted her menu, thanking the hostess before opening it. “I’m starved. I hope you don’t mind if we order before we talk business.”

  “Not at all. I’m feeling surprisingly hungry myself.”

  She blinked in surprise at his response. He hadn’t opened his menu. In fact, she didn’t think he’d even looked at it. His sexy green gaze was fixed on her with stark appreciation.

  She looked at him over the menu. “Have you been here before?”

  “No. But I’m looking forward to the experience.”

  Somehow she didn’t think he was referring to the food. She felt the warm rush of blood to her face and gave an embarrassed little laugh before burying her face in her menu. The waiter showed up, and Don ordered them wine.

  They discussed the menu options for a few minutes as they ate a dense, crusty bread and sipped their wine. Valentine enjoyed his warm, easy conversation so much there were long moments when she forgot she was there on business. But once they’d finished their meals, she realized she needed to broach the subject of their meeting. “So, have you decided you’d like me to acquire that item we discussed?”

  Don opened his mouth to respond but stopped as his gaze seemed to catch on something -- or someone -- across the room. Valentine followed his line of sight and saw a handsome, brown-haired man walking toward them. Don dropped his napkin onto the tabletop and stood up. “Excuse me, Val. I need to talk to someone.”

  She nodded as he turned away, watching him stride across the room with uncommon grace. His charcoal-gray slacks hugged his long, muscular legs and delicious ass perfectly. He’d taken his coat off sometime during their meal and rolled up the sleeves on his crisp, white shirt. The shirt fit him snugly, highlighting rather than obscuring his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and muscular arms. Heat coiled in her belly and lower, creating a pool of need between her thighs. He was so far above the men she usually met -- so superior in every way -- that Valentine thought she’d even give up the opportunity to st
eal the expensive and famous painting for him if it meant they could be together.

  She blinked. Holy shit! Where had that come from?

  Don walked up to the man in the white suit and grabbed his arm. His stance was hostile and, though he had his back to her, she could tell by the way his hand fisted at his sides that he was angry. The man in white jerked his arm away and stood there listening with a slight frown on his face. Every once in a while his gaze would slide past Don to her.

  Could they be talking about her? Fear twisted her stomach. What if they were cops? Suddenly, Valentine was certain she was about to be arrested. She grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder.

  “Compliments of the restaurant, Miss. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  Valentine jumped. She hadn’t heard the waitress returning. The woman settled a small plate on the table. It contained two chocolate hearts in red foil. “Thank you.” By the time she returned her gaze to Don, he was striding back and the man in white was nowhere to be seen. She snatched her coat off the seat.

  Don stopped beside the table, frowning. “Leaving so soon?”

  She started to scoot out of the booth, grabbing for a chocolate on her way out. Her hand closed on air and she blinked down. The plate was across the table, a good two feet from where she’d last seen it. “I’m sorry. I have to go. It was fun.”

  Don threw a hundred-dollar bill onto the table and grabbed his coat. “I’ll walk you out.”

  She frowned. “No, I --”

  “It’s no trouble, really.” He put his hand on the small of her back and started propelling her toward the door.

  Across the room, she saw the man in white waiting beside the door. She panicked. “You know what? I need to visit the ladies’. Thanks so much for dinner. I’ll be in touch.” Valentine all but ran toward the back of the restaurant. She dived into the ladies’ restroom and stopped, panting from stress. After a moment, she laughed at herself. She was being silly. Too many suspense novels and movie thrillers had her seeing plots and bad guys where there were none. She went over to the sink and washed her hands, looking into the mirror as she dried them. She looked pale in the harsh lighting, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She really needed to get some rest.