Billionaire Bad Boys: A Collection of Contemporary and Paranormal Bad Boys Read online

  Biting off the cap of the syringe, he held it between his teeth. He leered at Marcus, waving the needle.

  Marcus backed toward one of the sofas. He slumped onto the cushion when his knees hit the edge. “What do you want, Doucette?” he said, in a tired voice.

  “I want her, as a hostage.” Dr. Doucette whirled around and pointed the needle at Savannah.

  She nodded at Adam while arching away from Dr. Doucette.

  Adam lunged. He karate chopped the doctor’s wrist, forcing him to release the syringe.

  The hypodermic needle flew from Doucette’s hand, clattering on the floor.

  Adam seized the doctor’s hands and forced them behind his back.

  Dr. Doucette sucked the plastic cap into his mouth. He made choking, strangled noises.

  Savannah scrambled toward the syringe and kicked it across the room. It twirled, skittering under her wet bar.

  Marcus ran for the door.

  Savannah lunged and grabbed him, spun him around and trapped his hands behind his back. “You’d better not try anything,” she hissed into his ear, using Dr. Doucette’s spluttering as cover. “Go sit down. You’re in as deep as we are.”

  Marcus slunk across the room, while Dr. Doucette still choked on the cap of the syringe.

  Adam pounded the doctor’s back, trying to assist him.

  Coughing violently, Dr. Doucette managed to spit out the cap.

  “You almost killed me,” he wheezed, twisting, and squirming in Adam’s strong grip.

  “Anyone who makes a move at her has to answer to me.” The ferocity in his tone made Savannah glad he was on her side.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, cowboy.” Dr. Doucette spit out the words. “You…all of you… must answer to me. I know what you’re up to. She’s not Naeva Weathersby. I checked. Naeva is flitting about France, as we speak.”

  Marcus visibly paled. His hands shook. He eyed the door to the balcony like, if he couldn’t run, he at least wanted to escape and suck down nicotine.

  “I checked when I saw the results of the blood work.” Dr. Doucette sneered. “Although you’re a fairly good likeness. A bit prettier if you ask me.”

  “And lest you think you can simply remove me from the playing field, I’ve put a failsafe plan in place. I’ve left a note for the gal who cleans my office. She’s a friend of mine. We little people have to stick together.” He flashed a narrow-eyed glare at Marcus. “She’s supposed to be in tomorrow to clean my space. Let me go, and I’ll take care of the note. She’ll never see it. If I disappear, the entire club will find out what you’re up to. You’ll be hunted, caught, and put down. That’s what the Diamond Club does to people they don’t like.”

  Savannah shivered. I’m no safer than I was in Iraq.

  “What do you want?” Adam snarled.

  “First, I want you to let go of me.”

  “Not until I know you’re not going to try anything.”

  “My weapon of choice is on the floor under that wet bar.” Dr. Doucette smiled, grimly.

  Gripping the doctor’s wrists in one hand, Adam slid his fingers into one of the doctor’s pockets. Then, he did the same on the other side.

  “He’s clean,” he announced to the room. He released Dr. Doucette from his grip.

  Dr. Doucette yanked his arms away, flicking them in the air in a show of indignation.

  “What do you want?” Adam said.

  Savannah folded her arms across her chest. “Tell us—now.”

  “I know you’re with the feds. You’re probably trying to solve the latest crime the club is up to.” He rubbed his wrists.

  “We’re with a private firm. What do you know about the heist?” Savanna said, stepping closer to the doctor.

  “I’m not saying a word. Not until you grant me immunity and safety,” he answered. He sauntered toward the couch where Marcus sat.

  Marcus rose to his feet as the doctor sat down. “I need to step outside. I’ll leave the door cracked open, so I can hear.”

  He sidled toward the balcony without waiting for permission, his hand already retrieving a pack of smokes from his pocket.

  “Why should we grant you immunity?” Savannah said.

  The scent of cigarette smoke coiled into the room, wafting in from the balcony.

  “Because one word from me and the entire club and its network of affiliates will know what you’re up to. And believe me, the Club takes care of those who betray.” Dr. Doucette put two fingers to his head and pretended to shoot himself.

  Savannah sucked in a breath.

  “I've been trying to break away from these people for twenty years now, but you don't leave the Diamond Club. At least, not alive.” He rose and stepped toward the balcony. His eyes cut over to where Marcus stood smoking. “Your wife was a testament to that.”

  Your wife? What the hell? Savannah flashed a worried gaze at Adam.

  “So, I want to be put in witness protection and, in exchange, I'll keep my mouth shut, not spill your secret to the club, and tell you who's responsible for the hit on your life.”

  Savannah eyed Adam. She lifted one shoulder, letting him make the decision.

  “I need some time,” Adam said. “I need to run it by my superiors.”

  “I’ll give you thirty minutes. If I don’t have the right answer, I’ll make a phone call.” He plucked his phone from his jacket and waved it about. “After that, you’d better disappear, pronto. But you won’t get far, I assure you.”

  A shiver launched up Savannah’s spine. Liam’s brooding face flashed in her mind. The thought of a sudden departure from him made pangs of sorrow lance her chest. More importantly, it was Iraq and the threat of beheading all over again. She wanted to bash her head against the wall and scream.

  “Go make the call,” she said to Adam, her insides in a snarl of emotion.

  He nodded. Reaching inside his jacket, he retrieved a gun and handed it to Savannah. “Watch him.” He inclined his head toward Doucette.

  She took it, grateful to be holding a weapon. She’d missed being armed.

  Adam stepped out.

  Pointing the gun at the doctor, she said, “You’d better not try anything.”

  He jerked, his skin growing the color of clouds. “I won’t, I won’t. I…I’ll…I’ll just chat with Weathersby.” He sidled away from her and propped himself in the doorway to the balcony. He crossed his arms over his chest, casting his gaze between Marcus and Savannah’s gun.

  “It was better in the old days,” he said to Marcus.

  Savannah approached the wet bar near where the doctor stood. She made a pretense of pouring herself some water from a silver pitcher, using her left hand. Positioning herself, so she had a clear view of both the doctor and Marcus, she sipped the water and listened.

  “What was better?” Marcus asked, his cigarette dangling from his mouth. He put his fingers around it and sucked hard before withdrawing it from his lips. He blew out a plume of smoke.

  “The club. Things.” Dr. Doucette stepped outside. “Give me one of those, why don’t you?”

  Marcus bristled, no doubt offended at being asked for something by a staff member. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the pack, extending it toward the doctor.

  “Thanks.” Dr. Doucette pulled a cigarette free and held it between his fingers. “Light it for me, will you?”

  Marcus’s mouth pursed into a knot. “Don’t push it, Tim.”

  “What?” The doctor made a look of innocence. “All I asked for is a light.”

  “Please step outside. I don’t want my apartment to smell like an ashtray,” Savannah said.

  The doctor looked at her like he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh. Sorry,” he said, dropping his assumed air of superiority. He stepped outside, waving the cigarette at Marcus. “Light?”

  Marcus’s lips formed a tight line, like a rubber band stretched to the point of breaking, as he retrieved a gold lighter. He flicked it and held the flame toward Dr. Doucette. Once it was l
it, he stepped back from the doctor. He fished for the pack, removed another cigarette, and lit it off the one he’d almost finished.

  Jesus. Chain smoker galore. Savannah took another sip of her water, eying them both.

  The two men stood smoking in silence.

  Then, Dr. Doucette said, “Your wife took the brunt of the changes. She was one of the first to go, wasn’t she?”

  Marcus grew ramrod straight. “What do you mean, ‘first to go?’”

  “You know. When the club started to fall apart. When it went rogue.” He let out a bitter laugh.

  Marcus lunged toward Dr. Doucette, grabbing the front of his shirt. “She was murdered, you little shit. She got in the way of a heist. Don’t talk about her so lightly.”

  Savannah’s eyebrows shot up. Murdered?

  “Get your hands off me.” Dr. Doucette placed his cigarette in his mouth and pried Marcus’s fingers from his lapel. “I hear you could go to jail if this whole deal you’ve got going falls through.”

  Marcus took one last drag from his smoke and flicked it over the edge of the balcony.

  Savannah hoped it didn’t land on the unsuspecting scalp of a passerby. She shook her head at Marcus’s disregard for the world around him.

  “You’re nothing but dog shit, you know that? Think you’ll be protected by the club? Think again. Who’s going to listen to the likes of you?” Marcus sneered.

  Dr. Doucette stabbed his finger in Marcus’s chest. “You owe me.”

  He took his smoke from his lips and crushed it against the bottom of his shoe.

  Marcus pushed past the doctor and made his way inside.

  “You have no idea how lucky you are to not have been born into this world,” he said to Savannah.

  “I’m starting to see that.” She set down her glass.

  Dr. Doucette entered the room. “Is that why you sent Naeva away?”

  “Absolutely. Do you think I want her to marry that prick, Liam Chartier? Not on your life. Or be involved in the slimy politics of this club? No. She’ll never return if I have my way.”

  He’s not a prick. At least some of the time he’s not. Savannah opened her mouth to say something when Adam burst into the room. She whirled toward him. “What’s the word?”

  “We have a deal,” he said, mid-stride.

  Savannah leaned back against the cabinet, her legs almost giving way. At least her secret was safe, for now. She handed the gun back to Adam.

  Adam strode toward Dr. Doucette, crowding him like a granite wall.

  “Who’s got a hit on her?” he said, looming over him.

  The doctor seemed to shrink inside. “The family who wants your life, dear Naeva—or whatever your name is—is the Abernathy’s. They intend to stop the union between the Weathersby family and the Chartier family at any cost.”

  “Goddamn it.” Marcus practically growled. His body stiffened. “They’re seeking revenge. They lost a daughter, and they want blood.”

  “How did they lose a daughter?” Savannah asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Marcus said, waving his hand over his head.

  “How will offing Naeva exact revenge?”

  “That’s an even longer story. But the short story is, it’s sort of an eye for an eye, and exactly the reason Naeva will never return here.”

  “What do we do now?” She massaged her temples with her fingertips.

  “We carry on, as planned,” Adam said. “I’ll keep you safe. We’ll get some extra security to cover you if we have to.”

  Savannah’s mind raced. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. Now that we know who they are, you can take care of them while I deal with Liam.”

  Adam nodded, then directed his gaze at Marcus and Dr. Doucette. “But you’d better watch yourself…both of you. Don’t imagine you’re out of the woods, either.”

  They both nodded.

  He leaned toward Savannah and whispered in her ear. “You’ve made headway with Liam. Now, you’ve got to reel him in.”

  Her insides sparked with heat. She had every intention of drawing him close—but not in the way she was supposed to.

  She only had to do it without getting killed in the process.

  16

  Savannah slept restlessly in her gargantuan bed at Fleur Rouge, despite the whisper soft bedding and the fragrant smells of flowers all around. At 3am she woke, replaying Dr. Doucette’s warning.

  The Abernathys want you dead. They intend to stop the union between the Weathersby family and the Chartier family at any cost.

  She shook her head. This whole endeavor was fast becoming a nightmare.

  At any cost. I’m to be the one they take out, not Liam. But why me? She’d been in danger before, many times. Hell, every day of my life in Mosul I feared it would be my last. And the brutality that simmered beneath the surface of the Diamond Club seemed equally as sinister and lethal as the in-your-face murders she’d witnessed in Iraq. Only this whole pretense of gaiety, wealth, and “anything goes,” all while covering up theft and murder, sickened her.

  After making herself nauseous with worry, she finally managed to get some more sleep.

  When she awoke for the hundredth time, morning had finally dawned. Swollen clouds marked the sky outside the window, letting her know today would be sultry-hot and humid.

  She yawned and rolled out of bed. She slapped her cheeks to rouse herself. Today would be critical to the mission. Adam would seek out the Abernathy family, while she wooed a billionaire.

  Her chiming doorbell rang, sending its charming melody through the penthouse. She glanced at the clock. 7 am. Too soon for breakfast. Yawning, she retrieved her robe from the corner chair and pulled it tightly around her. She trekked downstairs and put her eye up to the spy hole. Adam.

  She opened the door and smiled at him. He always brought her comfort.

  Dressed in his professional suit, his blond hair pushed back from his freshly shaved face, he bore a grimace instead of a smile. “Good morning.”

  “Morning. Why so grim?”

  “Long night. Lots of conference calls. They’re hustling to get a team in place, for when we need it.”

  “Good. Can I get you some coffee? My breakfast cart hasn’t arrived, but we can call down for some. Or…” She put the back of her hand to her forehead. “I think I can make some,” she intoned in a Southern drawl.

  He chuckled, stepping into the foyer. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”

  She made the call using the wall console, then stepped into the front room and seated herself next to him. Curling her feet underneath her, like a contented cat, she asked, “Do we have any more information about the Abernathys?”

  Adam leaned over his thighs and clasped his hands. Giving her a sidelong glance, he said, “Their blood runs as blue as it gets. They originated in Scotland. Increased in status through inbreeding with the British, their despised enemies. Married wealthy British aristocrats and nobles. Made their fortunes in ruthless business transactions. Came to the United States in the early 1700s. The family consists of financiers and hoodlums. Rough trade disguised as blue-blooded billionaires.” He leaned back into the sofa and rested his arm along the back. “Apparently, they despise both Marcus’s family and the Chartiers. They want the power, that’s for sure. They want both those families out of the way. They’re seeking controlling interest in the Diamond Club.” He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Where’s that coffee?”

  “It should be here any minute,” Savannah said. “Let me check and see if he’s out there.”

  She got up, sauntered to the door, and opened it, right as the elevator doors opened.

  “Morning, Ms. Weathersby,” Fabian, the smartly dressed waiter said, pushing a stainless-steel cart. “I brought your breakfast up early. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” She stepped aside for him to enter.

  “I had something special made for you.” He eyed her up and down. “You’re a twinkling diamond in a sea of s
tones.”

  She smiled. “And you’re a poet, I see. Thank you for the food. And the compliment.”

  He nodded, his gaze glued to her face. “Anytime, miss. If you need anything else, let me know.”

  She extended her hand. “Thank you for your prompt service.”

  He grinned and backed out of the room.

  “Someone’s smitten,” Adam said after he closed the door.

  “I’ve only seen him once,” Savannah said.

  “That’s all it takes, with you.”

  “Tell that to Liam Chartier.” She rolled her eyes, then picked up the silver carafe and poured her and Adam a cup of coffee. She handed Liam his and took a sip of hers. “Mmm. Just what the doctor ordered.” She wrinkled her nose. “But not that doctor. What a strange little man he is. I don’t blame him for his acrimony, however. They treat him worse than a house pet. His resentment must have been building for years.”

  “Don’t go getting all soft-hearted and sentimental, Savannah. He’s a guy who carries around lethal drugs, for Christ’s sake. No doubt he’s done worse than put the unwilling to sleep.” Adam shook his head.

  Savannah rubbed her arms, suddenly pebbled with goosebumps.

  “Back to today.” Adam took another gulp of coffee and set his cup on the stainless-steel table. “Liam called me this morning.”

  A surge of excitement shot through Savannah.

  “Did he? So early? I thought he’d be buried between some woman’s legs.” She sneered.

  “I have no idea where he was calling from, but he said to tell you he’s bringing you a phone today. He apologized for his uncle’s behavior.”

  “He did?” Warmth spread through her chest.

  “Yep. And, you’re to meet him in Queens at Parliament Speedway race track.”

  “A race track?” Her eyebrows lifted.

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Sounds odd, but okay,” she said, a secret thrill rolling through her insides like warm chocolate. “He does seem to enjoy cars.”

  “I’ll arrange for the limo. I’ll accompany you, of course. And then I’ll get out of your hair so you can do your thing.”

  “Sounds good,” Savannah said, lifting a domed cover from a silver tray which rested on the cart. Toasted sourdough bread, wrapped in prosciutto, topped with an egg, and accented with a dill flourish teased her eyes and nose. “Wow. Want one?”