Fascination: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #9): A Friends to Lovers Romance

by Ainsley St Claire

  We drive out of the alley and are thrown hard as we take a tight turn at high speed. We’re hit by a car in the right quarter panel but keep driving. More gunshots hit the vehicle from behind. Hard turns jostle us as we’re rocked back and forth. Tires squeal and the streetlamp reflections flicker as we race down the street. I hear sirens in the distance and have never been so grateful for them. They’re close, but I can’t make out what the guys up front are saying.

  Angela is quiet now, and I’m scared for her. “Angela?”

  “I’m here. I’m okay. Scared shitless, but I’m fine.” She starts speaking in Spanish, and my guess is she’s cursing at the shooters.

  Jim’s man continues taking hard turns, and without looking out, I have no idea where we are.

  We hit a big bump, and the tires squeal on what sounds like a concrete floor. The fluorescent light bathes us as we enter an underground parking garage and then come to a screeching halt.

  The doors of the Suburban are ripped open. “Is everyone okay?” Jim asks

  Jack announces, “I think so. I was grazed in the shoulder and am bleeding like a stuck pig, but it’s superficial.”

  “You’ll just use the scar to pick up chicks.” One of the men snickers. Knowing they can joke right now gives me great relief.

  As Jim helps me out of the vehicle, I see my pant leg is covered in blood. CeCe sees it at the same time I do and screams, “Mason was hit!”

  It begins to burn as the adrenaline wears off. My legs are weak beneath me, and two men grab me under the shoulders before I collapse. They assist me inside as I say, “I’m fine. Really.” They lead me to a room as Jim calls someone, and then a man appears with a large black bag.

  “Make sure CeCe is fine,” I call out.

  With a pair of scissors, the man destroys my pants in a matter of seconds. “A bullet grazed Jack, too,” he announces, then says to me, “It’s going to hurt for a while, but you’re going to be fine.”

  “What the hell happened?” Jim demands.

  “We got them dropped off, and someone must’ve been at the park or across the street. They showered the house with bullets, and a second man at the end of the alley greeted us with rapid gunfire as we fled,” Jack shares.

  “I saw the Suburban. It took quite a few shots,” Jim observes.

  “Make sure you thank Chevrolet for the bulletproofing. We’d have been toast otherwise.” I watch Jack rub his temples.

  “I’ve let the police know you’re here when they’re ready,” Jim tells me.

  CeCe nods a little too quickly. I reach for her hand, and she squeezes it tight.

  “We’re okay,” I assure her. “Angela’s okay, too.”

  “I’ve never been that scared in my life,” CeCe admits.

  Chapter twenty-five

  CeCe

  “Who would hate one of us so much that they’d send a hit squad after us?” My voice breaks. I’m trying so hard not to cry or hyperventilate.

  Mason puts his arm around me, and I feel enormously better. “I have no idea.”

  Detective Lenning is shown into the media room where we’re sitting wrapped together in a blanket. The adrenaline has worn off, and we’re both exhausted. “Ms. Arnault. Mr. Sullivan.” He nods as he sits across from us on a deep black leather couch. “Tell me what you can recall.”

  Mason walks him through leaving Dillon and Emerson’s house and coming home. “I heard glass break, and then the house alarm started going off.”

  “How did you get out?” Detective Lenning asks.

  “Jack Reece and the rest of the team came in and pushed us to the floor. We crawled into the garage, and CeCe went in the back of the Suburban first, followed by me.”

  “Do you remember when Jack was shot?” Detective Lenning asked.

  It all happened so quickly that I’m struggling to recall the sequence of events. “It was before we went down on our knees, I think.”

  Mason shakes his head. “I didn’t even notice. I was so worried about Caroline and Angela being hurt.”

  “Who do you think did this?” he asks.

  Mason stands, and I can tell his leg is bothering him, but he won’t admit it. “We were just thinking about that, and we have no idea.”

  With my elbows on my knees, I hold my head. I’m so tired that I struggle to follow the questions. Everything comes crashing down on me. It’s too much. My business imploding, SHN’s problems, Annabelle’s arrest, Mason… I just don’t know how much more I can take.

  Detective Lenning looks at us carefully. “You both look exhausted. Our team has the street blocked off and the press pushed back. We don’t know if this is related to your outside issues, but you won’t be able to return to the house tonight.”

  Misty nuzzles Mason as he says, “That’s fine. We can go to my place.” He strokes Misty’s fur, and I swear if she could talk, she’d tell us she was ready to go home.

  “They’ll be staying here,” Jim cuts in. “We haven’t secured Mason’s home. We have several bedrooms here, and they’ll have protection.”

  I don’t want to fight with Jim, but I can tell Mason is ready to refuse. I put my hand on Mason’s arm. “We’ll stay here.”

  Detective Lenning is led out of the room, and Jim turns to me. “We’ve received calls from your business partners. They know you’re fine.”

  “I don’t have my cell phone,” I state.

  “Neither do I,” Mason says. “I hit the floor and left it behind.”

  “We’ll see if we can get those along with a change of clothes,” Jim replies.

  “Are we still going to see Cora in the morning?” I ask.

  “That’s not a problem as long as you have our escorts,” Jim says as he leads us to an elevator.

  The elevator ascends, and I’m stunned when we exit and look around. “Do you all live here?”

  “No, just me,” Jim shares.

  It’s a giant loft with windows from floor to ceiling. “You’re allowing us to stay in your home?”

  “Yes, I have a guest room.” He looks at Mason, and as if Jim can read his mind, he says, “Don’t worry, it would take a Howitzer to break through the glass.”

  “You’re very kind, Jim.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  He disappears for a few minutes and comes back with two T-shirts and an unopened package of boxer shorts. “Here, this might work to sleep in.”

  Mason accepts them. “Thanks, man.”

  We change clothes and crawl into bed, and before my head hits the pillow, I’m out.

  “Ces, it’s after eight. Do you want to get up?” Mason asks, waving a cup of coffee under my nose.

  “No, I want to sleep for a week,” I answer into my pillow.

  The coffee smells so good, the scent helping my brain’s synapses to connect. As I sit up, I slowly remember where I am and how I got here and why we’re here. I accept the coffee he’s offered and take a few sips before I can say much. “Thank you. How are you feeling this morning?”

  Mason winces. “I’m fine. They ruined my favorite pants, though.”

  “All of your pants are khaki. You have a favorite pair?”

  “Of course. They were the pants I was wearing when you told me you loved me.”

  “I thought you were naked when I did that.”

  “We were in your kitchen, and I was wearing them that morning.”

  “I’m impressed.” And I really am. I wasn’t testing him, but to know that our declarations are etched in his memory, and he even remembers what he was wearing, makes me feel ten feet tall. “I need to brush my teeth, and then I’m going to attack you.”

  “Angela went over this morning with Jim’s team and brought you several outfits.”

  “That’s good news. I can’t see Jack going through my unmentionables and being comfortable.”

  He smiles. “And I’d want to knock his lights out.” He leans in and kisses me on the forehead. “Though, despite his injury, he’d put me down before I could touc
h him.”

  “As long as you realize that.” I giggle. Then everything hits me again. I have a big day ahead of me. “I need a shower.”

  I work my way into the bathroom and start the water, turning it up high. My shower does little to relax me, however; the muscles in my shoulders are still tense, and the more I think about today, the more overwhelmed I feel. Jim doesn’t have much for me to do anything with my hair, but at least I have clean hair.

  I walk out towel-drying it and smell bacon and crepes. Now I know why Angela wanted to get back in the house. She wanted her crepe pan. “Angela, you’re amazing.”

  “You have a big day ahead of you, and I knew you needed a good breakfast.”

  I give her a big hug before taking a seat at the table. “You’re amazing. How are you feeling this morning?”

  “I’ll admit I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “I’m truly sorry you’ve been dropped into this madness.”

  “All that matters is that we’re all okay,” she says with so much assurance that I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince me or herself.

  “I’ve spoken with all the partners. They blew up our phones last night with voice and text messages,” Mason softly says from behind me.

  “Thanks for doing that.”

  “We’re to call them after we meet this morning with the FBI.”

  My stomach sours. I’m dreading this morning.

  Mason looks at me. “It’s going to be okay. Today’s the day you’re going to take back your company.”

  “You’re right,” I say with more enthusiasm than I actually have. “Are Jim and his team ready?”

  “They’re waiting for us.”

  With both hands, I push myself up from the table. “Let’s get this over with.”

  I probably look more confident than I feel. But it helps to have four members of Jim’s team, Marci, and Mason all walking in with me.

  When the receptionist hands me back my ID, she says, “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

  “You’re very kind. Thank you. I’m glad, too.” I wink at her.

  “You know where you’re going?” she says to Marci.

  Marci nods. “We’re all set. I brought you one of these.” She hands the receptionist a sandwich. “It’s a little early, but I really appreciate your turning me on to the best Philly cheesesteak in the city. You were spot on with Jake’s on Buchannan’s.”

  Her eyes grow large as she reaches for a foot-long sandwich. “Girl, you know it!” She peeks inside and takes a big whiff. “How were you able to get a hot sandwich so early?”

  “I called and begged. Then I asked my assistant to get it and meet us here with it. They were very kind to have it ready for me.”

  As we exit the elevator, Cora is standing there with a look of relief. “I’m so glad you both are okay. When I saw the news, I immediately called Detective Lenning. He told me you were fine, but I’m glad to see it with my own eyes.”

  “Thanks for moving our meeting back a bit.” Mason says.

  “Not a problem in the least,” Cora says over her shoulder as she leads us to a small conference room. “We’ve never met in here, but this room houses your case.”

  “Cora, thank you. I’m very excited and anxious to hear what you’ve learned.”

  The table only seats six people, but we all manage to squeeze into the tight space.

  Cora starts the meeting off. “Thank you for coming in this morning. We know you had a rough night.” She grimaces. “Three weeks ago, we placed trackers on five of your employees’ cell phones and company computers. We tracked every word said and every keystroke, and we’ve been successful at eliminating two people.”

  She walks to the wall. “Jordan, as the project manager, adores you. She’s had three job offers from Cosmetics, Inc., each one getting progressively more aggressive, but she’s claimed her allegiance to you and to Metro Composition.”

  A wave of relief floods me. “I knew it couldn’t be her. She had a lot riding on the fall line.”

  “We’re confident to eliminate her,” Cora replies. Then she moves to Christy. “You were absolutely correct, she is extremely loyal to you. Other members of the staff have attempted to engage her in gossip, but she’s said nothing to anyone.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve known her since my mom started the company when I was in sixth grade. She wants to retire soon.”

  Despite Jordan and Christy being eliminated, I can’t help but be disappointed that after all this time, we still have three people left.

  Cora hands me a three-inch binder. I open it up and see emails from the three remaining suspects from my team. They’ve removed all the identifying markers. “These are all the email and text messages the other three have traded. The yellow sticky notes are questionable, and we’d like your eyes to review them. We’ve also included a large MP3 file that we’d like you to listen to of some dubious voice mails.”

  I feel positively overwhelmed. I don’t know where to start or how to go through it. Not only do I feel it’s a violation of their privacy, but I also don’t know that I want to know who hates me that much.

  “Right now we’re asking you to be patient. We know this is taking longer than you wanted and we’d hoped, but we feel confident that we’re almost there. We’re chasing down some leads, and we believe we’re going to be able to eliminate one or maybe two more within the next twenty-four hours, but we need your help.”

  “Whatever I can do. I’m ready to put this behind me,” I reply.

  Marci pats me on the arm and smiles. “It’s going to be okay. We see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

  Chapter twenty-six

  Mason

  We finish with the update on Metro. I know CeCe must be disappointed that they could only eliminate two of the five, but I also know that if they hadn’t eliminated Christy, that would have been really devastating to her. She trusts Christy with everything, and a violation like that would’ve put her in a black hole that would be difficult to pull her out of.

  “What’s your plan?” Cora asks me.

  “My plan?”

  “I’m curious to know what you’re planning on doing once all of this is settled.”

  “Good question. We try not to dwell on this because it seems to extend our timeline when we do. Dillon and I were talking about it. We’re hoping this gets settled through the courts, and everything else that comes up by the time we retire.”

  Her mouth quirks at the corners. “It’s good to know you can retire early.”

  “I don’t think this is going to be quick.” I hope I’m wrong, but I’d rather be cautiously optimistic.

  She throws her head back and laughs loudly. “You never know.”

  It’s then I realize she hasn’t led us back to the elevator but to a large conference room featuring SHN’s case. She waves to the empty seats and waits for us to take our seats. As we sit, we’re joined by the team working on our case. Sitting on the edge of my chair, I’m anxious for what I suspect will be an interesting briefing.

  Tina, one of Cora’s analysts, turns to me and says, “We’ve been unsuccessful in locating Adam Reeves to date, though we do believe he’s here in the Bay Area.”

  “Do you think he might’ve been behind the shooting last night?” I ask.

  “We do,” Cora says. “Jim Adelson’s team was able to capture the gentleman at the end of the alley, and the police questioned him throughout the night. He’s admitted to working with the Robin Hood Party.”

  I sit back and sigh loudly, showing my discontent that Adam hasn’t been found. My mind spins. First he tried to kidnap CeCe, and then he shot up her house. He needs to be caught. He’s escalating, and we need to locate him before he hurts someone.

  “Well, at least we have some answers from last night.” CeCe bounces a pen on the tabletop. “How are you going to locate Adam?”

  “He has no digital footprint at this point, so we’re going through all of his known assoc
iates. We’re pulling up his family members, trying to figure out how he’s surviving.”

  “Bitcoin, I’d assume,” I halfheartedly joke.

  “We’ve watched some of the bigger Bitcoin trading, and it isn’t him. That doesn’t mean he isn’t using it to survive,” one of Cora’s team members says.

  “How would you be able to see a transaction between two private individuals?” I question.

  “It’s not as hard as you’d think. Through software, we can navigate a cryptocurrency's blockchain, which will tell us all the details we need to know, just like how we track large cash transactions. It’s actually easier than cash because they have to use a blockchain to move it around. Bitcoins are extremely difficult to actually hold—not impossible, of course, but still extremely difficult.”

  Good to know. I’m not sure I needed all that information, or that I understand it, but it’s good to know they’ve gotten that taken care of.

  “I assume he’s using a fake identity,” CeCe mutters.

  “It’s certainly quite possible. He’s a hacker, and he would know how to navigate the dark web to purchase good fake identities and bounce between multiple people‘s Social Security numbers and fake credit cards,” she concedes.

  “And how many people a year have their identity stolen?” I ask snarkily.

  “Nine million,” one of Cora’s team volunteers.

  “Can you share with us what you’re doing to find him? What’s Annabelle saying?” I ask.

  “She isn’t talking, but we can’t find any connection between them, and we don’t see any proof that they’re working together.” Cora holds out a hand to stop me from speaking. “That doesn’t mean it’s not there, it’s just not obvious yet.”

  “Have you officially ruled her out?” I ask.

  “No, but we’ve found a few conflicts which are pointing to them not working together.”