MILLIONS
Dollar Series #5
by
New York Times Bestseller
Pepper Winters
Millions (Dollar Series #5)
Copyright © 2017 Pepper Winters
Published by Pepper Winters
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Published: Pepper Winters 2017: [email protected]
Cover Design: by Kellie at Book Cover by Design & Ari @ Cover it! Designs
Editing by: Editing 4 Indies (Jenny Sims)
Contents
OTHER WORK BY PEPPER WINTERS
Millions Blurb
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
EPILOGUE
Elder
Pimlico
Elder
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Pimlico
Elder
FINAL EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PLAYLIST
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER WORK BY PEPPER WINTERS
OTHER WORK BY PEPPER WINTERS
Pepper Winters is a multiple New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today International Bestseller.
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Millions Blurb
“Love had been given and taken and now...it had been stolen. No one steals from a thief—especially from me—and I will defend what’s mine until my dying breath. It’s not a question of what I’m willing to sacrifice but who to deserve her...”
Once upon a time, I stupidly believed if I could make Elder fall for me, everything would be perfect.
Now, I’m missing, and he’s hunting, and everything is far from our happily ever after.
He gave me his heart, and I gave him my promise, but true love isn’t sacred to others.
War is coming, disaster is brewing, and I’m not going down without a fight.
Elder is mine.
I am his.
And no one can keep us apart.
Prologue
______________________________
Selix
LIFE WASN’T KIND to anyone.
Some days it pretended to be kind, granting gifts and favours, delivering dreams and fancy, but the next, it snatched it all away.
That was reality.
I knew that. Elder knew that.
We both saw the world for its truth, cutting through its many lies. I think that was why I hated him when we first met on the streets of New York. He carried the same toil. The same bitterness. The same heavy shame I did—shame we’d converted into hate and temper.
We’d scrapped over territory and possessions, and sometimes, we fought just because we were tired of being hurt by a universe that’d utterly forsaken us.
They said the human race was inherently designed to hate similarities in others. If someone had the same temper as you, instead of recognising that fact, you just hated them. Same legs as you, you’d say they were too short; same nose as you, you’d fixate on how out of proportion it was. Not because you hated that person but because, in some unspoken part of your soul, you hated yourself.
Our fatal flaw was to pick on ourselves. To tear ourselves apart by tearing others apart who remind you of you.
Strange but so fucking true.
Elder reminded me of me, so I despised him.
I reminded him of him, so he abhorred me.
Together
, we beat the shit out of each other, and in a way, we beat the shit out of ourselves until one day...that self-loathing we didn’t acknowledge just gave up, and we accepted what we hated most about ourselves was also the part we needed the most to survive.
After that epiphany, a friendship-truce was formed—or something akin to friendship anyway. We stopped trying to kill each other. We switched from enemies to grudging acquaintances and slowly to confidants.
Up until tonight, I still saw myself in Elder. I saw my past in his eyes and my heartbreak in his own. But as I’d stood in the shadows and watched him dance with Pimlico at Hawksridge Hall, I finally had to concede that he’d evolved.
He was no longer like me, and I didn’t despise anything about him because nothing left of him mirrored my own. He’d started his journey of redemption and acceptance. Finally trading tragedy for true fucking love.
He’d left me behind by finding something he could never buy or steal. I was happy for him but also blisteringly jealous.
Jealous he’d found what I’d lost so many years ago.
Jealous he had a lifetime of fuck-ups and fix-ups to look forward to with the one person who would become his best-friend and partner.
I was out of the job.
I was no longer his mirror, bouncing his mistakes back at him.
I was alone again and quickly drowning beneath everything I’d ignored for far too long.
Grateful for the empty car, I huffed at the whiff of sex and champagne still lingering from dropping Pimlico and Elder off. Only a few seconds had gone by since they’d climbed out and scaled the gangway, their bodies entwined and hearts sickly besotted, but time had an odd way of making it seem as though I’d been alone forever.
In a way, I had.
I’d been lost for decades, and now that they were disgustingly consumed with the other, I had no one to obliterate the memories gleefully descending.
Tomorrow, I’d get the lowdown from Prest on what exactly had changed. How he said fuck it to a life of misery and threw in everything he had left to the girl he’d rescued. But tonight, I had every intention of being on my own—just the way it should be.
Driving the car down the wharf, I caught another glimpse of Pim and Elder laughing on the deck as they stumbled toward his quarters like lovesick idiots.
I bet a fucking seagull could crap on them, and they wouldn’t notice.
Fools.
Rolling my eyes, I pressed on the accelerator, speeding down the impressive length of the Phantom to put the car away. The side already yawned wide, and I turned onto the heavy-duty ramp, delicately easing the vehicle into the belly of the vessel.
The familiar switch from land to sea never failed to make my heart beat faster. Unlike Elder—who I swore was part fish—I didn’t like the ocean. I didn’t like the feeling of instability beneath my feet. I preferred the firmness of dirt and rigidity of steel.
But on that fateful night when he’d stolen a winning lottery ticket and I’d somehow convinced him to borrow it—if not outright claim it—he’d invited me to explore a new opportunity: remain homeless by choice, punishing myself with a life of emptiness after having so much, or stand beside him and fight in a war that wasn’t my own.
Some men might’ve said no—especially when he’d mentioned a faction out for his blood and almost certain injury when they found him. But why hold the illusion of a life when really...it was just a big fucking sham?
I had no values left. No honour. No one to fight for. Nowhere to be.
I was alone and figured I might as well be alone with him.
Parking in the designated bay, I turned off the engine and hauled my ass from the car. Pressing a button on the wall, automatic chocks rose from the floor, wedging around all four wheels to prevent it from slopping around in a storm.
Placing the key in the cabinet with its neatly organised hooks for all sorts of toys on board, I raked both hands through my hair and sighed.
My job as a chauffeur is complete.
Not that Elder ever asked me to do such tasks. I just found memories couldn’t find me as easily when I put other’s needs above my own and only thought of what I could do for them rather than myself.
A piece of hay fluttered from my hair, reminding me what I got up to while Elder did unspeakable things to Pim.
I didn’t know the woman’s name. I hadn’t seen her face. All I remembered was she wore a mask that looked like a spider’s web with morning dew twinkling on silver thread. Her dress kept up the illusion with silver panels and iridescent beads.
It wasn’t often I craved companionship, but after a dance or two, she’d offered to give me a tour—even though she didn’t know the place any better than I did.
We’d ended up in the stables, fucking like rabbits while a horse watched from the next stall. We didn’t undress; we didn’t ask to see each other again. We both knew we were using the other for mindless company and parted with a grateful kiss, happy in the knowledge we’d eased some of the mutual pain in each other.
I should climb into the elevator and head to my quarters. I should wash off stable sex and sleep so I was ready to kick Prest’s ass in the morning.
However, I wasn’t ready to be captive to the ocean just yet.
I wanted land beneath my toes for a little longer. I wanted to be free and not trapped inside when the clawing of my past found me and made me wish I’d died the same night as my future bride.
Stepping toward the open garage door, I pressed the button to close and lock it behind me, then traded yacht for wharf.
Stars glittered above. Clear nights like these made me crave a cigarette. I’d broken the habit years ago—partly through choice but mostly through lack of funds. I knew it was better to be smoke free, but tonight I craved the tingly taste and sickly rush of nicotine.
With no drink to keep me occupied and no one to distract me, I prowled the wharf, spying a few empty crates piled high as a house against a warehouse.
Perfect.
I could climb on top and be unseen, free to study the Phantom with her pretty lit windows and suffocate beneath my thoughts instead of burying them deep down tight.
Kicking off my dress shoes, I allowed some of my past from street living to ease into my bones as I launched myself up the crates. It only took a few seconds and a few precisely placed jumps to scale the crates and end skyward.
My heart rate didn’t change as I reached the top and sat heavily.
The Phantom was indeed pretty from this angle, swooping up like a dark sea goddess ready to decimate any who tried to destroy her. The world settled, the night quietened, my breathing was the only thing disturbing ultimate peace.
And that was where she found me.
As she always did.
The woman I loved and the unplanned pregnancy that killed her. I let the past take me; I allowed the merciless hate for the unborn baby who’d stolen her from me to drag me deep, and didn’t hear the arrival of war.
Down and down I fell, cringing against the last moments of blood and heartbreak. Wincing against the burn of tears and lamenting all over again at how I could give my very soul to someone, yet remain living when they left this earth with it.
I didn’t indulge in my pain often. I hated self-pity and despised self-blame.
But tonight, after watching true love happen for a man I dared call a friend, I was fucking gutted—reminding me all over again of what I’d lost and he’d gained and just how different we truly were now.
No longer the same.
My ears filled with ghost-voices and ethereal-shouts. Of my begs for the doctors to do something. Of my threats when they failed. Of my curses when I was left with nothing.
So obsessed with my agonising memory box of torture, I missed the first gunfire.
And the second.
The ra-ta-ta-tat of bullets morphed with the slap of gentle currents and crack of rigging as boats rocked on water.
My fingers grew slippery with past-shed blood. My mouth wid
e with historical-silent screams. My lungs empty for air, desperate to die to find her and stubborn enough to continue breathing despite the daily agony.
I lost track of time as I embraced the ghost of the woman I missed with every-fucking-thing.
But then another shot.
This one unmasked by tide or yacht.
Boom.
The sound reverberated around the bay, echoing in clock towers and throughout ship masts.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
My eyes snapped open.
What the—
A scream.
A shout.
A splash.
Shit, they’ve found us.
Launching from my spot on the crates, I vaulted down to the wharf and ran. My socked feet were silent as I slithered into the darkness and flew toward the front of the ship. A small boat motor cranked, growling and shredding the night sky with rancid petrol fumes.
French mutterings interspersed with the engine as someone fed it and speed hurtled it forward. I caught a flash of a sparrow painted on the hood and a red and blue bundled figure sprawled in the back.
Pimlico?
Fuck, it can’t be...
I’d only sat for a few minutes. They’d been safe. They’d been obliviously, disgustingly in love—
They were ambushed.
Fuck!
The speed boat opened up, skipping faster over black tides. There was nothing I could do. No way I could swim after it, and no harpoon I could use to shoot it.
I was helpless as white water sloshed around the wharf as I took off at a dead sprint.
They had Pimlico, but where was Prest?
Tearing back the way I’d come, I gasped for oxygen as I spat profanities at how long this damn yacht was. Why the hell did I close the garage?
Finally reaching the gangway, I snatched the railing and snapped myself into a sharp turn, digging my toes into the rungs, shooting upward to the deck.
My skin turned icy with dread.
No noise.
No staff.
No life.
Where the fuck is everyone?
Snagging a gun tucked into one of the many hidey-holes around the deck, I charged toward Prest’s room.
Cocking the weapon, I wrapped my finger around the trigger. Ready.
His doors were wide. Blood smeared the polished deck. Corpses littered his quarters.
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