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

  She picked up a plastic spoon laying on the round table and scooped a mouthful of milk-soaked Honey-Bites into her mouth. While it wasn’t a hand-baked croissant with freshly made jam, it got the job done.

  Behind her rested an uncomfortable yet clean double bed and an old TV. A small white counter with a two-burner cooktop and a coffee maker had been built against the wall. A tiny fridge held the food items she managed to stuff inside. Non-perishables, like boxes of mac-n-cheese, bread, and cereal, lined the end of the counter. A weensy sink allowed her to wash her few dishes.

  Her hair was pulled back from her face in a severe ponytail. She fingered the blue ball cap she’d purchased, which lay on the table near her bowl. Between the thrift store clothes, the oversized rain jacket, the hoodie, the cheap tennis shoes, and the hat, she figured she looked unrecognizable.

  She thought about dyeing her hair, but she liked her long red hair. So, when she went out, she placed her hat over her head, pulled the hoodie up around her face, and got her errands done.

  And, it was no different than her “shop and shoot” forays in Mosul. “Avoid the man with the gun at all costs and get your goddamn errands done.” That’s what she’d told herself in Mosul, and that’s what she told herself here.

  She’d managed to get a couple of nights of good sleep. Bedtime came at 9pm. The neighborhood stayed quiet until 4:30 am when the delivery trucks rumbled down the road. When they woke her up, she simply propped herself up in the bed, flipped on the TV for a while, and zoned out until she could fall asleep again.

  Liam lingered in her thoughts. She couldn’t go an hour without thinking about him. Her foolish heart yearned to be with him. Her mind warned her away from her persistent feelings of longing.

  “I know he felt something for me. Coward. He couldn’t even leave me with an answer to my question.” She shoved the chair back from the table and took two steps toward the sink. She dropped her plastic bowl into the sink, where it clattered against the stainless steel.

  She glanced at the calendar on the wall, reading, Bill’s Insurance for all your insurance needs across a picture of a pony in a field. The month said July. And the day was July 3rd. By night’s end tomorrow, Liam’s family will get their fancy fucking keepsake. Then, if I’m lucky, I’ll have a couple of weeks to figure out what to do with myself, where to go.

  She thought about calling her contact, Hans Whitmore, at the FBI. Liam didn’t deserve to go to jail for something he felt forced into doing. Then again, he could leave. Surely the club reach isn’t worldwide. She sank onto the bed and fell back, making the springs squeak. He thinks he’s an excellent thief. What if he gets caught and there’s no hope of him ever getting away from that awful club?

  Rolling onto her tummy, she reached for her burner phone. She bought it yesterday. Hadn’t used it. But, she had to break it in some time. She dialed Hans Whitmore.

  “This is Whitmore,” he said, once he’d answered.

  “Hans, it’s Savannah Summers.”

  “Summers,” he hissed into the phone, lowering his voice. “You’re persona non-grata around here. Once SLAE canned you, word spread fast.”

  “Let me guess. I’m incompetent at my job?” She gritted her teeth.

  “More or less.”

  “You know that’s bullshit, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. A few of us do. The ones who believe Agent Ryan are on his personal payroll. Why are you calling me? There’s no way I can undo the PR damage that’s already been done. You’ll never get a job in this agency or any of the others. Your reputation has been smeared.”

  “Fuck!” She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, reminding herself this wasn’t what she was calling about. That part of her life was over. “Never mind. I’ll figure something out. But, I might have a way to redeem myself and at least get you a brownie point or two. I heard through the grapevine you’re up for a promotion. This could clinch the deal.”

  He paused. “I don’t know, Savannah.”

  “It’s a big deal, Hans. I’ve got inside intel on a heist the Diamond Club is planning tomorrow.”

  “What did you say?” he nearly shouted.

  She snatched the phone away from her ear. “Keep your voice down, or you’ll alert the whole building. You heard what I said.”

  “Yes, but I don’t believe it. Is that what you were working on with SLAE?”

  “Yep. And when the house I was living in got blown up, including my best friend, SLAE pulled the plug.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about Adam. The news article said it was a kitchen fire that spread through the house. And that he was in there on a social visit.”

  She coughed out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, a kitchen fire that started in my penthouse using explosive materials, like Nano-thermites. That’s utter bullshit. Adam was babysitting the narc who threatened to blow our cover—and did, by the way. The Diamond Club probably covered it up. They’re responsible.”

  He paused for a few more seconds. “Okay. This is so short-notice, I’m not sure I can help you, but I’ll hear you out at least.”

  Relief flooded her. She quickly told him her idea. Together, they formulated a plan that might work.

  At dusk the next day, she left her room, cloaked in her ordinary street-hoodlum disguise. She took the stairs down to the lobby, strode toward a busy main road, and hailed a cab for Times Square. She wore a discrete communication device in her left ear which she’d picked up last night from an associate who worked with Hans. It kept her connected to Hans.

  The plan was for her to convince Liam to go away with her. After an intense argument with Hans, she’d convinced him to let both her and Liam be placed in WITSEC. She told him Liam knew things and could be convinced to give something up in exchange for his protection. They’d be handed over to the United States Marshals Service, and Hans and his team would take down the others who were already in the bank. It seemed like a simple, foolproof plan. All I need to do is convince Liam.

  Times Square was packed with both tourists and locals. The streets were one big teeming throng of chaos like animals let out of the zoo.

  Savannah pushed her way through a crowd and slipped into a hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Aunt May’s. It was her go-to food joint when she hit the city. There, she ordered a fish sandwich. No one made a fish sandwich like Aunt May.

  Inside the restaurant, the cashier kept tilting his head, trying to get a look at her face.

  She tugged her ball cap lower.

  “Funny thing,” he said, handing her some change.

  “What’s that?” she mumbled.

  “If it wasn’t for your getup I’d think you look exactly like that billionaire’s daughter. What was her name?” He snapped his fingers.

  “I don’t know. I’m not from around here.” She hunched her shoulders.

  “Naeva something. That’s it. I saw her picture. Her and that guy, what’s his name?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know. I’m from California,” she lied.

  “Liam! Liam Chartier.” He placed his palms on the counter. “Man, I’d like to have a piece of his pie, you feel me?”

  “Not really, no. I’ll wait over here for my order.”

  “You sure you’re not her? I heard she got shot at, at that charity tennis event. The one they took all the pictures of.” He lowered his head to look beneath her cap.

  “Look. I’m not her. I don’t know who she is. I’ve never heard of Liam Carter or whatever name you just said. All I want to do is get my food and meet my boyfriend to watch the fireworks.”

  He scowled. “Okay, okay, I was only making conversation.”

  She shook her head and slunk away to wait.

  A few minutes later, he called, “Hey, bitch, food’s up.”

  He waved a white paper bag.

  She strode up to the counter and grabbed it from his hand. “You didn’t spit on it, did you?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t carry grudges. Besides, Aunt May would tan my hide if I did anything
like that.”

  She pressed her lips together, turned on her heel, and scurried away.

  “Have a good night!” he called, as the door closed behind her.

  “Asshole,” she muttered, lifting her middle finger in farewell.

  Outside, she scarfed down the sandwich. She’d been so nervous, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “Mmm, this is heaven.”

  The white fish juices squirted from the fried breading in a burst of flavor. It leaked from the home-baked bun, covering her fingers. The bread was slathered with some spicy hot concoction that Aunt May kept secret. The whole thing could knock a Diamond Club chef-prepared gourmet meal out of the running for prize-winning food.

  She finished the meal, then used the wad of napkins from the bag to wipe her face and fingers. After dropping the white paper mess and bag in the trash, she hurried toward the bank. Judging from the dark sky, the fireworks would start soon.

  She stayed to the shadows and sides of buildings, keeping her head down.

  “Summers, this is Whitmore.” His voice in her ear sounded distorted and scratchy.

  “Summers here. Go ahead.” She bent her head low.

  “We have a team in place. Where are you?”

  “Almost to the bank. I’ll let you know when I find Liam.”

  “Roger that. Over.”

  She shoved past a group of teenagers, all pushing one another. She sidled past a family being conned by a guy dressed like a pirate with a real parrot on his shoulder.

  “Get a picture,” the bird squawked. “Get a picture.”

  “Oh, honey, let’s get a snapshot with the kids,” the mom said to her husband.

  Savannah rushed past. When she slipped into the alley next to Swiss-Bank, she came to a dead halt. The black Land Rover was parked in the passageway, like a beaming beacon.

  “He’s driving the same black Range Rover he dropped me off in? This is too easy.” Hoping he hadn’t spotted her, she sauntered down the alley, trying to look like a homeless woman. When she got close enough to peer through the window, she paused.

  He lay back in the seat, hands over his chest, dressed in black everything. His hat was pulled over his eyes. He’s sleeping? Some master thief.

  She rapped on the window.

  He jerked, his arms waving wildly. He wiped his palm across his eyes and blinked, then turned toward her. Rolling down the window a crack, he said, “I don’t have any cash. Get out of here.”

  “Liam, it’s me.” She pulled back her hood and removed her cap.

  “Savannah? Christ, what the fuck are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.” He cast his gaze at the sky.

  “It’s not going to happen, Liam. The heist.”

  He stared at her.

  She could barely make out his shadowed face in the dim alley, but from what she could tell, he looked awful. His eyes were ringed by crater-like circles. His face looked drawn and pale.

  “What do you mean, it’s not going to happen?” He blinked, then swiped his palm across his face. Then, he shook his head as if coming to from a trance.

  “What I said. I called in a favor.”

  “You what?” he snapped. “You turned on me? You’re sending me to prison? I never suspected you, of all people, would to that to me. Not in a million years.”

  “I told you. You don’t have to live this way. I arranged for us to be put in witness protection. You can get away from all this.”

  For a second, his face expressed hope. Then, he grew serious. “We’ll be killed, Savannah. Both of us. Hunted down like dogs and destroyed.”

  “We won’t.” She pressed her palms to the glass. “You have to believe me. I’d never turn you in. Not in a million years.”

  A scratchy voice rumbled from the vehicle. “Black Diamond this is Big Bird. Do you copy, over?”

  Liam picked up a walkie talkie laying on the seat. “This is Black Diamond. What’s your 20?”

  “We’re five minutes out. Over.”

  “Copy that.” Liam glanced at Savannah. He shook his head.

  “Are you ready to receive?” Big Bird said.

  Liam stared at the walkie-talkie. “Ready to receive, over.”

  “Clear.”

  Liam repeated the command. “Clear.” Then, he tossed the device on the seat. “It’s happening whether you, I, or the world wants it or not.”

  “It’s not happening. You’ve got to listen to me. The FBI has this place surrounded.”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Liam slammed his palm against the steering wheel. “Why the fuck did you have to get involved? I told you to go away and make a new life for yourself.”

  She backed away from the vehicle. “I did it for you, Liam. I want you to have a better life.”

  Liam’s gaze lifted toward the sky again. “God fucking dammit, here they come.”

  She glanced up to see a black helicopter descending from the sky like a giant dragonfly. “Look. You don’t have to be with me. I get it. I’m not in your league. I’m nothing. But at least save yourself.”

  He let out a strangled roar. Then, he leaned over, retrieved his wallet from the glove box, grabbed the keys from the ignition, and threw open the door. “This better work or we’re dead.”

  He paused and then retrieved the walkie-talkie before sliding from his seat. His feet landed on the dirty alleyway with determination.

  Excitement filled her veins. “It will work. Follow me.”

  She sprinted down the alley toward the designated meeting place she’d arranged with Hans.

  Liam kept up with her, maintaining an easy lope to remain by her side.

  Liam’s walkie-talkie buzzed. “Black Diamond, Big Bird is landing. Do you copy?”

  “Black Diamond, here. Copy that. Over,” he said, sounding breathless.

  “Birds are on the building. Over.”

  “Copy, that. Over.” He looked at Savannah.

  “This way,” she mouthed, gesturing with her hand.

  Gunshot shattered the air.

  “Abort! Black Diamond, abort.” Big Bird yelled over the walkie-talkie.

  Liam threw open the lid of a dumpster and pitched the walkie talkie in the bin. “Faster!” He extended his hand to her.

  “It’s this way.” Savannah grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the gray van waiting at the end of the alley.

  The back doors of the van flew open.

  Two men dressed in jackets with FBI logos on the front, reached for Liam and Savannah, tugging them into the back of the van.

  Savannah fell onto a metal bench seat lining the van.

  Liam collapsed next to her.

  The yanked the doors shut and the van took off.

  “We made it!” Braced on the metal seat, Savannah allowed herself a small smile, trained at Liam. She let out a deep sigh.

  He frowned, pressing against the wall of the van. “I don’t think so. Clever setup, Agent Summers. Well played.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Right. You know nothing about the gun pointed at my head.”

  She whipped around, confused.

  Hans Whitmore sat in the front seat, holding a gun, aimed at Liam. “Liam Chartier, you’re under arrest in connection with the heist at Swiss-Mark Bank. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”

  Savannah’s mouth gaped as she sat, stunned, staring at Hans.

  “Oh, I understand all right.” Liam cast her a baleful, wounded gaze.

  “With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “What the hell is this, Hans?”

  He turned to her, aiming the gun at her as one of the officers who helped them into the van pulled Liam’s arms back and placed him in handcuffs. “Savannah Summers, you’re under arrest in connection with the heist at Swiss-
Mark Bank. You have the right to remain silent.”

  She tuned out the rest of the Miranda spiel, aghast. She mumbled something when prompted. When her arms were wrenched behind her back and placed in cuffs, she looked at Hans. “What the fucking hell did you do to me?”

  He grinned. “The same thing any agent up for a promotion would do. I got the deal, and I got the girl.”

  Savannah threw her head back against the van. She couldn’t look at Liam. She wouldn’t look at Liam. Her heart had been pulverized, crushed into a million pieces. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She let out a long sigh, resigning herself to her fate. At least I have somewhere to live for the next few years. And my wardrobe choices will be easy—prison orange.

  25

  Nine months after the great emerald heist had been thwarted in New York City, Bella sat at her kitchen table looking out over the bluff in Half Moon Bay, California. She picked up a paintbrush, smeared some Cerulean blue on the sable fibers, and dabbed at her canvas.

  A new hobby, painting soothed her restless mind. And, she was good at it. Recent talks with a local gallery might result in a show of her own, with the promise of more. She’d also taken up horseback riding. She and her husband had purchased a frisky, ornery Appaloosa they named Chance’s Lucky Heartbeat, or Chance, for short. They also bought a roan mare named Flame, which he said reminded him of Bella and her long red hair. They both rode whenever they could.

  In the distance, waves rolled over the shore, with relentless rhythm. Seagulls pinwheeled in the sky. The sun colored the clouds in fiery shades, as it said its goodbyes along the horizon.

  She never tired of the view. Nor did she tire of the man whose footsteps she heard tromping up the back stairs.

  Caine, her husband, opened the back door to the small, enclosed mudroom, and smiled. “Hey, babe, I’m home.”

  “I can see that. You’re home, and I’m happy.” She smiled at him, her heart full of love, joy, and contentment, while jolts of arousal stirred in her core.