Kingdom Fall: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (Kingdom Come Book 2)

by Terri E. Laine

  “I’m still trying to figure out how I ended up with Batman.”

  That brought a smile to his face. “I’m not as cool as that. I don’t have all the gadgets.”

  “What do you call this?” I spread my arms because the boat was impressive.

  “Borrowed. It was better if we blended in.”

  “Blended in? I’ve never been on a speedboat like this.”

  “Actually, it’s considered a sports yacht.”

  “Of course it is,” I said dryly.

  “There are three staterooms with attached baths below deck.”

  “The boat has everything, why are we here?”

  “It’s safe.” He held out a hand, and I took it. The man had a way of making me feel exactly that—safe.

  We exited the boat, and with rock walls all around us, I didn’t see anywhere we could go. But after the moving wall, I waited for something else to appear to be what it wasn’t.

  “Up here,” he said.

  I followed him up a path made of smooth stone. There was a rope attached to the wall, which we gripped. The climb was steep, but not too bad. At the top, a tunnel led us into a tropical oasis. It was as if we’d entered another world.

  We stepped out of the tunnel onto an outdoor patio. Feet away to the left, a wall of windows gave a view into a home of some sort built onto the side of the rocky hill. In the low light, I saw hints of a kitchen and a living area with a large sofa. However, the view dead ahead caught my attention. I walked past an impressive lap pool to the edge of the cliff. The moon had risen, and the calm water below shimmered.

  I took a chance and looked down but saw nothing but rocks. I took a step back—right into the solid chest of my savior. I turned, and he seemed to catch me as if I might fall.

  “This is nothing short of amazing. How did you find this place?” I asked.

  “Friends.”

  I eyed him. “Is this some kind of ‘if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you’ situation?”

  The sexy smirk was back in full force. “Something like that.” He paused, and in that second, I waited for him to dip his head and kiss me. Instead, he said, “Let me show you around.”

  “Where are we, by the way?” I asked as we walked back to the patio.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Technically, it’s labeled an uninhabitable island.”

  We stopped short of entering the house built on the side of a mountain.

  “You’re not going to tell me the island’s name, are you?” I asked.

  “It’s not my secret to share.”

  “Is that why we entered under cover of darkness?”

  “Yes and no,” he said. “We needed to be midway to high tide in order to enter the cove. Too high or too low and it would have been impossible to get in.”

  So that had been the reason he’d kept checking his watch.

  “Are we going in or what?” I teased. “I need to call my brother.”

  He lifted his finger. “First, let me show you the outside.”

  I had a feeling it was a distraction tactic, but I allowed it.

  “See the windows? In order to keep this place a well-guarded secret, when we enter and turn on the lights, a few things will happen.” He pointed at the door. “Lights will come on at a very low level. Storm shutters will cover the windows before the lights fully come on. If the lights were on and this door handle turned, the light would immediately go off.”

  “Very high tech.”

  “It serves a dual purpose. Any illumination at night would give away the hideaway’s location. Second, if for any reason someone finds the place, the darkness will provide cover.”

  “Are you some sort of spy?”

  He laughed and opened the door. I saw the movement of the shutters more than heard it. Someone had spent a lot of money designing this place. Once the shutters clicked into place, overhead lights brightened the area.

  No expense had been spared in the homey environment. Though the house wasn’t cluttered, it wasn’t the minimalistic style of Striker’s Soho condo either. A comfy sofa, a low bookshelf filled with books and other odds and ends. There were little sculptures and other things on the side tables and coffee table books on their namesake.

  The kitchen we passed on the left was done in a dark gray, with brown cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and marble countertops. If I thought he knew, I might have asked for the decorator’s number.

  “Back here is the bedroom.”

  I noticed he hadn’t said bedrooms plural. I followed up a slight incline to an open doorway on the right. When we stepped in, lights flooded the room. The same gray and warm browns made up the floor, furniture, and walls. Directly inside the doorway and to the left was another door. Inside was a large bathroom with a short window at the top and covered by the shutters. A large floating tub was underneath the window. There was also an enormous two-person shower, a double sink vanity, and a toilet.

  We ended the tour back in the bedroom.

  “You can have the bed,” he said.

  I sighed. “I know I gave the no touching rule, but there’s no reason we can’t be adults and share a bed.”

  “The bed is yours. I’ll go get our bags.”

  “What about my brother?” I asked to his retreating form.

  He disappeared from the room, leaving me to worry about everything from my brother to our safety, though I’d forgotten all about the bags. I’d been in such a state of awe, the only thing I’d noticed the entire time, outside of the scenery, was the man.

  How could anyone blame me for being starry-eyed for the guy who’d ridden in like a knight in shiny black armor and saved me from my captors? As much shit as I’d given him over the last few months, no one would have expected him to lift a finger for me.

  I went into the bathroom to start a bath. The soaking tub was calling my name. My chaotic thoughts needed soothing. When I walked back in the room, my bag was on the bed. The man moved like a ghost. We needed to talk, but I didn’t yet know what to say.

  After a relaxing bath, my stomach growled from the smells wafting down the hall. With little in the way of wardrobe selection, I left the bedroom in a T-shirt and bikini bottoms.

  I almost tripped when I saw the candlelight flickering on the table in the kitchen area where Striker sat. The closer I got I could see a steaming plate in front of him, and one waiting for me. I resumed my pace, making my way over.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, gesturing at the candles and admiring the steak and mashed potatoes.

  “We’ve got to eat.”

  “And the candles?” I couldn’t read him as firelight danced in his eyes. I sat.

  “I can blow them out and turn on the lights, if you’d prefer.”

  “No,” I said, not wanting to discourage this romantic side. “You are full of surprises. From breakfast to dinner.”

  “Not much to it. A pretty simple meal.”

  “That from a man who’s a jack-of-all-trades. The only way I’d get a meal like this is if I ordered takeout,” I admitted.

  “Lucky for you I’m here then, because there’s not a restaurant for miles. And delivery’s not an option.”

  “What else can you cook?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Whatever, as long as there’s a YouTube video.”

  “So if we were married, I wouldn’t have to cook?”

  “We are married,” he said, not sounding happy about it.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. Are you going to let me talk to my brother?”

  “Eat first.”

  I pushed the plate away a bit. “Why are you avoiding the topic? Do you know something I don’t?”

  “He’s fine,” he said.

  “You should know me better by now. Fine is not enough. I want to talk to him.”

  “So, you’ll ruin a perfectly good steak that won’t taste as good cold or reheated?”

  “I feel like you’re trying to distract me.”

  “I’d like to eat, and nothing
’s going to change in the next ten minutes,” he said, his knife and fork frozen as he waited to cut into the steak.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He put down his utensils and steepled his hands. “Fine. You want to do this now?” I nodded. “I got word when we landed that Matt got out,” he said.

  “And?”

  “And he went back undercover.”

  “What?” I shouted, pushing back my chair.

  “He said he had to complete the mission. He was too close to getting whatever he needed to bring down the cartel.”

  I got to my feet and paced while muttering to myself. Striker went to a side cabinet in the living room, which appeared to hold replicas of technology from the past as decorations. But I was wrong. He switched on an old-time radio and tuned it.

  “This is Striker, do you copy?”

  “I’m here.”

  When I heard Griffin’s voice, I wondered how high tech the radio was. I didn’t think CB radio frequencies could travel that far. But what did I know?

  Striker handed me a mic that looked like what cops used in their cars to talk to their base command. He silently indicated which button I had to push to be heard.

  “Griffin?” I said.

  “Lizzy, are you okay?”

  It was such a relief to hear his voice. “Yes, I am. I should thank you for everything. Though whoever you hired to pack for me should be fired.”

  He laughed. “Not a lot of time. But you should thank your boyfriend—or should I say husband—not me.”

  What he said, threw me off. I looked around and found I was alone. Striker was gone. “He’s not…” I trailed off because who was I fooling by denying our marriage. “What do you mean, this was…” I paused again. Even though he’d identified himself on the radio as Striker, it sounded weird calling him that to Griffin. “How was this Connor’s plan?”

  “Your boy has skills, I have to say. I’m suitably impressed. He’s not the whiny rich boy I thought him to be.”

  “He didn’t correct me,” I said.

  “What?” Griffin asked.

  “Nothing.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud anyway. I felt like a total ass. Striker hadn’t corrected me when I’d given all the credit to Griffin. Then again, I’d told Striker I couldn’t trust a word out of his mouth. So why would he have? “Where’s my brother?” I asked instead.

  “Sorry, darling. Your brother is just as stubborn as you are. He said if he didn’t go back in, they would figure out he was undercover and things could get worse for you and your family because they’d dig deeper to find out exactly who he was.”

  That sounded like my jackass brother. If he died, I would kill him again.

  We ended the call and I went looking for Striker outside. I found him on a sculpted stone lounger with his empty plate and a beer bottle to the side, his eyes closed.

  “Umm…”

  His beautiful blues opened though they were shrouded in darkness. “Yes?”

  “I’m not sure what to call you. Striker, Connor King, Mr. Black.”

  “They’re all me.”

  “What do you prefer?”

  “Call me whatever you want, Elizabeth.”

  That felt like a slap, and I stepped back. “Well, thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For saving me when you didn’t have to. Cooking. Being you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “I do. And I am. Thankful, that is. And I hate to ask for another favor, but I need to let Anderson know I won’t be in for a few days.” I had no idea how long we’d be here.

  “Taken care of before we left. He’s aware you and I are going on an impromptu vacation.”

  “Is that what this is?” That wasn’t really the question I wanted to ask.

  “It isn’t really a honeymoon, is it?”

  Icicles could have formed from his words for all the frostiness he sent my way.

  “Thank you for that too,” I said, because it was true. “It worked, by the way. The press never reported anything about me. I guess it helped that someone more relevant than me made the headlines that week. It turned out to be a good week. I also got notice from my gallery’s landlord that they would be doing work on the front of the building. I have free rent until it’s done, because of all the scaffolding.”

  The moon, round and full, made it easy to see no surprise register on his gorgeous face.

  “You knew,” I said, putting it together. “Tell me you’re not my landlord?”

  “Actually, I owned the building long before I knew you. Real estate is a passion of mine.”

  “And you did this—” I would have finished with “after I told you to get out of my life,” but he cut me off.

  “As a wedding present.”

  “But it was a fake wedding,” I said, sounding meek and on the verge of tears. How could I have misjudged this man so thoroughly?

  “Something you might have learned about me is that I would rather help someone out of a bad situation than live a day in luxury. Money means nothing. And I know that’s easy for me to say, but none of us chooses the cards we’re dealt.”

  “Connor,” I said—maybe for the first time.

  “I think there were enough revelations today, don’t you think? I’m tired.”

  “You can have the bed.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll probably go sleep on the boat.”

  Wow. He wanted to be that far away from me?

  I gave him some space but took his empty bottle before I left. I cleaned up the kitchen, as it was the least I could do. When I ducked my head out the door to ask if he needed anything else, he was gone.

  I went into the bedroom and got under the sheets. It took some time to find sleep, and only a few hours later, I was awakened by the sounds of heavy breathing—not the sexual kind. I followed the noise to the living room. As the sounds changed to whimpers or a struggle of some sort, I picked up an egg-like sculpture and approached the glass.

  Outside, in the hammock, Connor tossed and turned with flaying arms. I went out to him, touched his shoulder, and got the fright of my life.

  Nine

  Past

  With every punch, I thought about my calls to home. I’d explained what had happened to me, but it hadn’t changed a thing. My parents believed the school and Mr. Payne over me. Nothing I said or did had gotten me a ticket out of this school. Mom warned me to be a good boy, and Dad told me things would get better. I’d make friends.

  I hadn’t. Instead, I spent most nights trying not to fall asleep so I wouldn’t end up here in the fighting ring. Tonight, I’d failed because napping in class wasn’t a substitute for sleeping and only got me in more trouble. Staying up for days on end wasn’t possible either.

  Tonight was different. For the first time, I had a good shot at winning. The thought about what I would do as a victor cost me a blow to the head that had me seeing stars. The ugly smile on one of my tormentor’s faces surrounding the ring spurred me on.

  I only had to throw two more punches before the boy, slighter than me, fell. He curled into a ball to stop me from hitting him again.

  The cheers started. “Pussy. Pussy. Pussy.”

  Mr. Payne’s declaration of “Finish him,” stopped any further chanting.

  I looked at the rubber things the boys our age were to use on losers—since we weren’t yet capable of doing without, like the older boys. All I saw there was pain. When I looked back at the loser, fear filled his eyes. I couldn’t be that kind of winner.

  I shook my head, unsure what would happen next. No one before me—that I’d seen—had refused. Ruin—his nickname—grinned as he stepped into the ring. In seconds, I was face-first in the dirt.

  Before the worst of it began, I mouthed sorry to the other boy. I thought his name was Lonnie. But he was quieter than me. Either he hadn’t heard me over the chanting, which had begun again, or he was busy trying to find that place inside himself to hide fro
m what was happening.

  I didn’t wait to find out and hid in my inner spot. The place where I wasn’t in the ring but back home in my room, with cars and planes. Anywhere was better than here.

  The next day in the halls, I passed the group of older boys who liked to cause pain. They laughed and made kissing noises at me.

  “There’s Jamie, the pussy.”

  Everyone laughed, most not knowing what that word really meant. I hadn’t. My parents didn’t, or they didn’t care.

  My name is James, I said in my head. Not paying attention to my surroundings made things worse because Mr. Payne was suddenly there.

  “There are ways this can stop, Jamie.”

  “My name is James.” There, I’d said it.

  “But everyone calls you Jamie, and doesn’t it fit?”

  “I have to go,” I said.

  He caught my arm, holding it hard enough to hurt. “I can make this stop if you do something for me.”

  There was nothing I would do for him expect stomp on his foot, which I did. When he let go, I ran.

  “You will pay,” he said, and I did.

  When I felt a hand on my shoulder as I lay in bed, I fought until I heard my name. But not my name.

  “Striker.”

  I opened my eyes.

  Ten

  Connor

  Blinking off the remnants of sleep, I felt the arm I held and let go. Lizzy pulled back and rubbed the spot where my hand had been.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, rolling out of the hammock to get to my feet. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.” Yet she still rubbed at the area I’d gripped.

  “It was a bad dream.” That wasn’t a lie. Memories showing up while sleeping were still considered dreams.

  “A really bad one.”

  I nodded, hating that I hadn’t gone to the boat like I’d said. My foolish need to be close to her in order to protect her had cost us both.

  It had been a few years since the past had haunted me the way it did now. And I should have stayed far away from her to keep it from hurting her.

  “You should go get some sleep,” I said.