Jane Harvey-Berrick Saving The Billionaire

by Harvey-Berrick, Jane

  I’ve never heard Howard so succinct.

  “Data loss?”

  “Negative, boss. All maintained by the back-up protocols. You have twenty-four-seven at the offsite data storage facility. I already called them—they’re good. Mr. Mason is sending a bunch of guys to make sure their safety hasn’t been compromised.”

  The boss takes a breath and Mrs. Anderson holds his hand tightly.

  “Good. Thank you, Howard.”

  “Dev,” Maria whispers. “Was it an accident?”

  He hesitates, then forces a smile.

  “Probably just a faulty wire.”

  Howard opens his mouth to argue, then catches the boss’s eye, shoves his hands in his pockets and starts to whistle.

  This is one lie I can forgive.

  I text Rachel to tell her we’re all okay—I don’t have time to call right now.

  Mason has a team on site, working with the fire investigation department. When they finally leave, I organize a clean-up crew. I’m bone weary with hours of work ahead of me, but I do the one thing that will soothe me.

  The phone rings.

  “Justin! Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice!”

  Her words wash over me, easing the tension. I have someone to go home to—that feels damn good. I’m supposed to be the one who keeps Rachel safe, but she saves me every day.

  BACK AT WOLF Point later that evening, the boss calls an emergency security meeting. I’m waiting at the elevator for Mason to arrive.

  “How was the honeymoon, Trainer?” he smirks.

  If anyone else asks me that I might have to start taking meditation lessons, either that or just beat the crap out of them. Decisions, decisions.

  “The boss’s honeymoon.”

  Mason laughs.

  Bastard.

  “Fair enough. Was he happy with the safe room?”

  I have to admit Mason’s team did an A-1 job on the new safe room installed at Wolf Point: steel door with strike-plate screws to resist battering; reinforced ceiling; generator and separate ventilation system; comms with CB radio, separate landline and cellular phone; CCTV into the house; firearms; flashlights; blankets; blow-up mattress; gasmasks; chemical pisser. Bastard even programmed my computer to let me know when the supply of bottled water and dried foods should be replaced each month. It would take a crack team at least four hours to break inside.

  I really hope Anderson doesn’t lose the key. Kidding—I have the entry code, so does Mason.

  “Yeah, he was happy with it, as happy as he gets.”

  Mason raises his eyebrows.

  “I use the term loosely. Go on in. I already got rid of the last body.”

  “You’re a funny guy, Trainer.”

  I know. I think I’m getting laugh lines.

  Once we reach the boss’s office, it’s all business.

  “Mason, thoughts?”

  “It’s arson.”

  “Fuck!” The boss speaks for all of us.

  “Whoever did this was clever,” Mason continues, “but my guess is that the aim was to let you know that there are vulnerabilities rather than do damage. Someone is sending you a message.”

  Anderson turns to me.

  “Trainer? Do you concur?”

  “Yes, sir. My recommendation is that we review your list of known enemies. But I think we can assume that our friendly local blackmailer is responsible.”

  And I’ll be finding out who was sitting down on the job when said arsonist got in to the building and into the server room.

  He sighs.

  “I know.”

  “We’d have to include all the recent redundancies,” Mason adds, dotting all the i’s and crossing the t’s.

  Anderson nods at the computer screen.

  “And Frederick Landon,” I say quietly.

  Anderson turns his cold eyes on me.

  “Yes, add him to the list,” he says finally. Thank fuck.

  We agree to increase the security at DMA Tower and upgrade the remote server from ‘always-invoked’ to ‘evaluatable’ on the MILS system. Personal security for all the Andersons is increased. That isn’t going to go down well. I hope Lance Banner has his Kevlar on hand because Abigail Anderson is going to kick the shit out of him when she finds out that being a college sophomore now comes with very fucking close personal security and that he’s her new best friend.

  I take a deep breath and bring up a tricky topic.

  “Sir, are you going to alert Mrs. Anderson to the increased security she’ll be subject to?”

  I can see him wincing, but he’s adamant.

  “She doesn’t need to have that additional concern.”

  I think he’s wrong, but I’ve raised the matter and now I have to let it drop.

  “Here’s what we know,” says Mason, flicking through his specialist team’s preliminary investigation report. “A maintenance guy showed up two days ago. It was a new man, but from our regular contractor. He had the firm’s van and valid ID. Security had no reason not to let him in. Turns out it he’d only recently joined the company but it was with false papers and ID. He was maneuvered into a position of trust. We’re squeezing the head of HR now to find out how. This was planned. Calculated.”

  I’ll add finding a new maintenance contractor to my to-do list.

  “And?”

  “What worries me is that he could have done a lot more damage with the access that he had. So the question is, what else does he have planned?”

  “No, Mason. The question is, who is the fucker and where can I find him?”

  “We’re working on it.”

  At 2AM, the meeting draws to an end. We’ve got a lot of shit to shovel tomorrow.

  Three days later…

  I HAVE A meeting with the boss and Mason to get an update on security issues and the ongoing investigation into the fire at DMA Tower.

  When I get the heads up from Evans telling me that Mason is on the way up, I stick my head inside Anderson’s study.

  “Sir, Mason has arrived.”

  “Send him in.”

  He seems in a good mood—no twitching eyes, no drumming fingers, no ass tightly sealed like a walrus in winter. Yup, marriage seems to suit him. Well, Maria seems to suit him, but the fun hasn’t started yet.

  I meet Mason at the elevator and he looks like he’s waiting for a salute. Dream on, buddy. You’re not my C.O. anymore. The only person I salute these days is Rachel. Fuck, she looks hot when she wears my old dog tags and nothing else.

  Mason updates us on the sit-rep. Security has been tightened again at DMA Tower and the off-site server location; extra units have been put on all the Alvarez men, and the Andersons, even Abigail—no matter how hard she squealed. Shit, she’ll probably have Lance singing show tunes to ‘cheer him up’ or something.

  The boss even has somebody watching Dolores. She’s been seen with Maria several times, so could be a potential target.

  That’s the thing about knowing a billionaire, suddenly you’re in the frame, under the sniper’s sites. Doesn’t matter how nice you are, or how good you are, or how innocent you are—all those dollar bills have a cost.

  Mason doesn’t have a whole lot to report. Howard is isolating the CCTV footage from DMA Tower in the two weeks prior to the arson event. He promised Mason he’d have the results later on this evening. Or, to be more exact, he said,

  “Mason, dude! Stress less, man.”

  Sometimes it’s hard to believe the guy’s IQ is 191.

  So Anderson pedaled across to his parents, and I have the afternoon off. Yeah, this afternoon I’m going to get off.

  Rachel

  I NEVER THOUGHT I’d fall in love again.

  Brian was my childhood sweetheart and although we weren’t blessed with children, we had a wonderful marriage for 12 happy years. His death devastated me. I never thought I could even love another man. I didn’t want anyone else. As time passed, I immersed myself in work and spent as much time with Allison’s family as I could. Those gir
ls mean the world to me.

  But there were times when I had to step back because I’m not their mother, Allison is, and I was just their favorite (only) aunt. At times I was lonely, and there’s only so much work you can do to fill the gap inside yourself.

  When I met Justin, I would never have dreamed—not in a million years—that he’d be interested in me. I was surprised, shocked even, when I realized that he was. I was flattered. But then the terrible, gnawing guilt began. Moving on from Brian was painful. I felt like I was being unfaithful even thinking about being with another man.

  But Justin was so patient with me. I think he understood—I know he understood how hard it was for me.

  And he’s everything any woman could want in a man. He’s kind and good and sweet, a wonderful and thoughtful lover, a beautiful father to his daughter, loyal to a fault, and a hard worker.

  And he loves me. He loves me. With all my insecurities, with all my baggage, with every wrinkle and fear and imperfection. Every day he surprises me. Every day he makes me feel loved.

  I’d like to think that I’ve gotten over the fact that he wears a gun to work. But yes, it bothers me. I suppose that’s my upbringing, but I see the good in him, too. And despite what he thinks about himself, he is good.

  And did I mention hot? Even Allison has to admit that. I spent quite a lot of time with my sister while Justin was away. And even though she’ll never see eye to eye with him, she agrees that he is a fine figure of a man.

  And the conversation went something like this:

  “So, you’re really going to marry Justin, huh, sis?”

  “Yes, I am. Now Mr. Anderson’s wedding is over, we’ll have more time to plan.”

  “Are you sure about this? After Brian … you said yourself, you aren’t happy that Justin’s work can be dangerous. I know the sex is good, but…”

  “Allison! I’m not discussing my love life with you!”

  “No? Well, have another shot of tequila. God, this stuff is disgusting. I think it’s the bottle Justin gave to Bill. I found it in the garage. He thinks I don’t know about it.”

  There’s a brief silence. I really wish my sister liked Justin, but I’ve given up hoping for that.

  “Look, Rachel, I’m your sister and I love you. I just want you to be happy, but…”

  “Allison … Justin is it for me. We love each other and we’re going to get married. No, I’m not happy that he carries a sidearm as part of his employment, but I’ve decided that life is too short to wait for perfection. Because in every other way, Justin is wonderful.”

  “He swears too much.”

  “I know.”

  “He thinks I’m a bitch.”

  “I know.”

  “He does have a great ass.”

  I can’t help laughing.

  “I know.”

  She sighs.

  “I loved Brian, we all did. He’d been part of the family pretty much our whole lives. We all lost someone we cared about, but you lost your husband and your best friend. I’ve seen how hard it’s been for you. You’re amazing, the strongest person I know, but you haven’t been happy.”

  She holds my hand, squeezing tightly as tears glaze my eyes.

  “But since you’ve met Justin, I’ve seen you smile again, laugh again. If he makes you happy, that’s all I care about and I’ll always support you. I love you, sis.”

  And that was how we left it.

  When Mr. and Mrs. Anderson leave for their lunch, Justin prowls into the staff quarters.

  “Miss me, baby?”

  He undresses me with his eyes and a devilish smile crosses his face.

  Chapter 28

  The Bride of Frankenstein

  ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER dollar—or a billion, depending on which end of the food chain you’re at.

  It’s been busy since the fire with all of Mason’s team working overtime. I’m halfway to DMA Tower to pick up Mr. and Mrs. Anderson when Mason calls me with an update.

  “The perp has been identified. His name is Wyatt Kranz.”

  “Should that name mean something to me?”

  “Yes and no. He’s a paid up member of an S&M club right here in New York. His membership was paid for by Frederick Landon.”

  “Holy crap, the boss won’t like that. Do you have an address on Kranz?”

  “Yes, but he hasn’t been there in over a month.”

  Fuck.

  I have to sit on that intel until I can speak to the boss in private. Maybe there should be no secrets between a husband and wife, but that’s not my call—if Anderson wants to tell Maria, that’s up to him.

  Unfortunately, he doesn’t follow his usual habit of going straight to his home office. Instead, he shows every intention of having a quiet, work-free evening with Maria.

  “Sir?”

  “What is it, Trainer?”

  “I have information … from Mason.”

  Maria looks from me to Anderson, then frowns. For a moment, I think she’ll insist on coming with us to hear the news, but she changes her mind.

  Anderson isn’t happy—the swearing clues me in on that. He’s even less happy when I told him that Kranz is missing. He hasn’t been seen at his apartment since a week before the fire at DMA Tower. You do the math.

  The boss knows the club where Kranz was a member, but hasn’t been there in seven years, which is way before Kranz joined. When I tell him about the connection to Landon, he grows silent and dismisses me immediately.

  But Maria is waiting outside the office. I doubt she heard anything since the door was closed, but she knows that she’s being excluded from something important.

  “Hi, Trainer,” mutters Maria, as she stalks past me.

  She looks as happy as a pig at a barbecue.

  “Mrs. Anderson,” I reply, doing my best to blend into the scenery.

  “Maria?” the boss calls out.

  “Do you have something to tell me?” she asks, her voice deliberately sweet.

  “No.”

  “What’s going on, Dev?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” he answers.

  I cringe at the look on Maria’s face then skulk out of her eyeline.

  Anderson follows, utterly bewildered. Guess he didn’t study Women 101 at that private college of his, a course also known as What to do, when you don’t know what to do: clueless (for beginners).

  Rachel is in their living room, so that should keep the carnage to a minimum, although Maria has a look in her eye that tells me Anderson is about to get his ass handed to him. Could be interesting.

  I take the long way around to my office, avoiding the warzone that is more usually called the living room. My office in the staff wing is far enough away so that I can’t overhear them; near enough to get there quickly if weapons are involved.

  Three seconds later, Rachel follows.

  “I thought I’d come hide with you.”

  “I’m not hiding, I made a tactical withdrawal. There’s a difference.”

  She raises an eyebrow and shakes her head.

  “What on earth is all that about? The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife!”

  I wince. No weapons, please.

  But the boss’s bellow from the main room lets us know he’s still alive. The beast wants feeding.

  I kiss Rachel’s hair lightly, really wanting to do so much more, and my arms drop away, reluctance in every nerve ending.

  As we’re eating our supper, a shrimp salad that could make a man sell his soul—if I hadn’t already given it to Rachel—I raise a thorny issue.

  “So, I was thinking…”

  “Did it tire you out, Justin?”

  “Careful, or I might have to show you how not tired I am, just to prove a point.”

  “And that would be a problem because?”

  This woman will be the death of me.

  I can’t help grinning.

  “Nope, no problem. Looking forward to it, in fact.”

  She smiles. />
  “I’m sorry, I interrupted you … you were claiming to have been thinking…”

  And for a moment I’ve lost my train of thought.

  “Um … yeah! I was thinking about our wedding.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “Well, we said we’d talk about it once the Andersons were back from their honeymoon.”

  Rachel looks flustered.

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Okay, you’re freaking me out, baby.”

  She sighs.

  “Sorry, it’s just … I want to be married to you, Justin, I do. I just don’t want to get married. All the fuss. As long as we do it quietly—just you and me at a Courthouse. Is that alright?”

  “Whatever you want, baby. I just want it to happen. And soon.”

  “So you wouldn’t mind if it was small? Just Allison and the family? Who would you invite?”

  “Lilly.”

  Rachel smiles.

  “Of course! Who did you have in mind for a Best Man?”

  “That’d be me, baby.”

  She snorts with laughter.

  “Modesty becomes you.”

  “You know it!”

  “Seriously? One of your military friends?”

  “That okay?”

  “Of course not. But no firearms at the reception.”

  I think she’s teasing but the only guys I’d invite love their weapons more than they love, um, their weapons.

  “So, who do you have in mind? Who else do you want to invite?”

  “Paul Malone, guy I did basic training with. And Cyclops, um, Jase Henbrey, guy from the Unit.”

  “Is that all?”

  I’d ask Jim Rayment, but I’m pretty sure he’s got a long-term contract in Kuwait.

  “Yup. That’s my guest list. And, ah, I kind of already told Lilly that she could be the flower girl.”

  Rachel beams.

  “That sounds pefect!” She pauses. “What about Mr. and Mrs. Anderson?”

  “Fuck, Rachel! They’re our employers, not our friends.”