Savage Prince_An Anti-Heroes Collection Novel

by Meghan March

  But what if I just went one more time.

  One. More. Time.

  The words punch through my brain like a chant from a million fans packed into a massive arena.

  Screw it. I toss the yoga pants onto my bed and head back into the kitchen to find my phone, which, after girls’ night, has a bunch of new numbers.

  Do I feel good about asking one of them for help this early in the possible friendship? Not really, but I’m desperate.

  I pull up Yve Titan’s contact and tap to open a new message.

  Temperance: Is your lingerie store open tonight?

  Her reply comes as soon as I make it back to my bedroom.

  Yve: I’m here right now. You need something?

  Temperance: You work Saturday nights?

  Yve: Man’s out of town. Might as well make bank. Come spend some money. I’ll hook you up with some goodies.

  Temperance: On my way.

  Yve replies with an emoji of a woman in a red dress.

  I guess I could wear red again tonight . . .

  Pretty Kitty, which is located right next to Dirty Dog, has the cutest magenta storefront that I’ve never noticed before.

  Yve greets me with a smile and a quick hug as soon as I step inside. “You made it!”

  “I’m probably making a terrible decision.”

  Her eyes widen. “Those are usually the best kind. You want to tell me about it?”

  “Remember when I mentioned that club?”

  She chokes on a laugh. “Like I could forget? I’m ready to send you back loaded down with business cards so I can get some more traffic through my doors.”

  “And here I was going to ask you to tell me not to go back.”

  Her brows dive together. “Now, why in the world would I do that?”

  “Because, I . . . I shouldn’t be showing up for some booty call with a guy whose name I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. Lord, I shouldn’t even be telling you this. You’re going to think I’m a whore, and I’ve only met you once.”

  “First,” she says as she crosses her arms over her adorable teal dress, “I don’t go around slut-shaming anyone. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want, and the only way I’d judge you for it—and by judge, I mean murder you—is if you came sniffing around my man. Or any of my girls’ men. We clear on that?”

  All I can manage is a jerky nod. “Of course.”

  “Good. Then let’s talk about the rest of your asinine statement next.”

  “Asinine? Really?”

  “You did say I was going to think you’re a whore, did you not?”

  Again, my response is a nod.

  “What do you have against booty calls?”

  “It just seems so . . . impersonal. Doesn’t it?”

  “You looking to marry this guy?”

  I rear back. “Lord, no.”

  “Then why does it have to be personal? You’re a single woman, old enough to think for herself. Why do you feel like you need to justify this to anyone? You want to get laid, go get laid. You don’t need to be thinking about china patterns when you do it.”

  She’s right, but I’ve still got hang-ups. “I don’t even know his name.”

  “Then why don’t you call Ari and have her work her little hacker-girl magic and find it? Then you can surprise the shit out of him when you scream it when you come.”

  After what I saw today, I’m even more curious who the hell my stranger is.

  Yve clearly doesn’t need me to reply, because she’s already decided what path I’m taking tonight.

  “Call Ari right now and have her come meet you here. Tell her I’ve got something that’ll blow Hennessy’s mind, but she’s gotta bring her computer with her and come without him. I’m picking out some drop-dead sexy lingerie for you in the meantime.”

  Yve sweeps off and heads for a rack of gorgeous bras and underwear.

  “I was thinking red.”

  She spins and shoots me a gorgeous smile. “Of course you were, girl. I got you.”

  I pull up my emails and look to see if the auctioneer has responded.

  Bingo. He has.

  Nunya Holdings. It sounds exotic. Maybe he’s in some kind of international business?

  Yeah, because that’s surely what kind of business leads to the weird handoff I saw this morning.

  Yve’s right; it’s time to get some answers. I swipe through my contacts to find Ariel, and I hit Call.

  “Please tell me you have that company name,” Ariel says. “I’ve been dying to start digging so we can figure out who your mystery man is. It literally kept me up last night, which actually resulted in three rounds of . . . never mind. You got a name?” She barely breathes from the moment she answers the phone because she’s so busy talking.

  “Yes. Yes, I do. Nunya Holdings.”

  She bursts out laughing. “Nunya? Like none of your business?”

  “What? You’ve heard of it?”

  Her laughter intensifies. “Dude. Wow. Okay, let’s back up. Have you ever asked a question someone didn’t want to answer?”

  “Of course,” I reply, but I’m not following where her logic is headed. Maybe because she’s a genius and I’m definitely not?

  “Has anyone ever replied nunya? As in none of your business?”

  The pieces click together, and I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. “Are you telling me that company name is a joke?”

  Her laughter cuts off. “I’d say it was named by someone who has an interesting sense of humor.”

  “Tell her to come down. I’ve got goodies for her,” Yve says as she returns to my side, carrying a few different sets of red lingerie.

  “Was that Yve?” Ariel asks.

  “I’m at Pretty Kitty. She wants you to come down.”

  “And bring your computer,” Yve adds.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t lead with that. I’ll be on my way in ten. Be warned, I’m on day-four hair. It’s ninety percent dry shampoo at this point, and I’m not even going to apologize for it.”

  Ariel is certainly one of a kind, I think as I say, “Got it.”

  When I hang up, Yve holds up her handfuls of hangers. “Let’s get you in the fitting room. I can’t wait to see you in these so you can blow this guy’s mind.”

  I follow her to one of the pale pink doors in the back of the shop that surround a cute little boudoir area, and wait outside while she hangs up her selections.

  “If something doesn’t fit, let me know. Holler when you’re ready.”

  When I step into the dressing room, my mind is only half on the lingerie, and the other half is firmly on the ridiculous company name.

  None of your business. Really?

  Does that mean my stranger is a con man, or he just has a sense of humor?

  As I slip on a gorgeous red lace bra that reveals more than it conceals, I can’t figure out an answer.

  When Ariel arrives, I’m just slipping back into my street clothes and have selected my armor for tonight.

  “Rhett tried to come with, until I told him that I wouldn’t buy anything unless it was going to be a surprise, and then he conceded. I swear, even the strongest man can be brought low with the right lingerie.”

  Yve gives her a quick hug. “Damn right. Now, did you bring that fancy computer of yours along with your big brain so we can figure out Temperance’s mystery?”

  Ariel raises her arm and points to her large purse. “I barely leave home without it. But first, tell me you have something in lavender. I don’t know why I’m obsessed with that idea, but I have a feeling it’s a good one.”

  “I’ll give you lavender as soon as you figure out who Mr. Sex Club is.”

  “I see. That’s my carrot.” Ariel glances around. “Now, where are the whips?”

  Yve winks. “In the back corner. Get to work.”

  Ariel blushes. “On it.”

  She leaves Yve and me behind to make herself at home on the stool behind the checkout counter. A
s soon as she has a laptop in front of her, it’s like watching her morph into a different person.

  “You sweep this place for bugs? I’m assuming Titan would, but we can never be too careful.”

  Yve’s brow arches. “Just do your thing and let me worry about this place.”

  “You wouldn’t be so cavalier if you were the one risking federal prison to find this stuff.”

  “Oh my God,” I blurt out. “Are you serious? If that’s the case, then don’t—”

  Ariel cracks her knuckles with a grin. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to get caught.”

  Then she goes to work. It takes her less than sixty seconds to start spouting off information.

  “Nunya Holdings is a domestic corporation, but the only shareholder listed is another company.”

  “It’s a front?”

  She shrugs without looking up. “Not necessarily. It could be part of an overall entity structure. I have plenty of companies that only have another company as a member.”

  It’s so strange to think that this little redheaded spitfire is the CEO of a huge conglomeration of companies.

  “Did you know I’m a billionaire today? Bitcoin for the win!” Ariel says, totally offhand, and goes back to typing.

  Yve looks from Ariel to me and laughs. “That girl is nuts.”

  I’m not sure if I should agree with her or not.

  Within minutes, Ariel is three layers deep into the corporate structure when creases appear between her swooped eyebrows. “They’re actually really damn good at this stuff. Everything goes back to a generic registered-agent company and their database is encrypted, so it’ll take me a bit longer to find some answers there.”

  “So you can’t—”

  “Never say can’t. I just need to look somewhere else. Somewhere you don’t need to know exists.”

  Yve’s arms are crossed over her chest again. “You’re doing that dark-web shit, aren’t you?”

  Ariel looks up with a scowl. “Shhh. No need to invite bad mojo by talking about the thing we don’t speak about.”

  My gaze ping-pongs back and forth between them as they talk about the dark web, which, incidentally, I actually thought was some fake thing they only talk about in movies. Apparently, I’m more sheltered than I thought, because it’s real.

  “Dark web is harder to trace. There are a lot of bad people with great skill sets that make it really hard for anyone to find anything, let alone find the thing they’re actually looking for. But you’re in luck, because I’m better than all of them.”

  Ariel’s confidence is somehow comforting, and Yve pulls light purple lingerie from her racks as Ariel keeps working.

  “This is weird,” the hacker murmurs.

  “What’s weird?” I take a step closer, attempting to look at her over the screen covering her face.

  “The structure of companies doesn’t bring up anything on the dark web.”

  “Why is that weird?” My question is genuine because I feel truly naive about this stuff.

  “Because even normal companies usually have their company information available for sale by someone who stole it. Nunya and its family of companies are a dead end.”

  “So, what does that mean?”

  Ariel finally looks up and meets my gaze. “Someone works really hard or pays a lot of money for these companies not to exist on the dark web.”

  “So?”

  “So, that’s something most companies would never even think about doing. Which means . . .”

  “What?” My anticipation is skyrocketing.

  “It means that whoever runs those companies is actively working on keeping them off here. Invisible. That’s not normal, by the way. Most people don’t even know how to access the dark web. But these people are not only on it, they’re experts.”

  A feeling of unease creeps over me. “So you’re saying he’s a criminal?”

  She shrugs. “I have no idea, but he definitely knows someone who has skills or the insight to tell him to do this.”

  She types furiously on the keyboard while I try to decide what to make of that information.

  “Wait, wait a minute. I found something. Whoa. Real-time shit. Hold on to your panties, girls.” Her fingers fly.

  “What?”

  “I’ve got a payment trail that leads from someone who’s sloppy. Well, sloppier than your guy. A bank in Mauritius just transferred money to one of the shell companies linked to Nunya. It just happened, which means Nunya hasn’t had time to erase the evidence yet.”

  “Where the hell is Mauritius?” Yve asks before I can voice the question.

  “Island off the coast of Madagascar. It’s a tax haven. Lots of companies are incorporated there for tax and privacy purposes. This payment just happened. Wow. Whatever this company does, they must do it well, because they just got five hundred grand.”

  “A half-million dollars? For what?”

  Ariel shakes her head. “No way to know, but generally, you see the biggest payments for drugs, hits, information, and human trafficking.”

  “Okay, those all sound really bad.”

  Ariel keeps typing at lightning speed. “Of course they’re bad. Otherwise, they’d be using PayPal. Whoa, yep. There it goes. If I hadn’t been on here and digging, I never would’ve seen it. Holy shit. I think they know I found it.”

  Her fingers burst into even faster action. “Fuck. They’ve might’ve found me. I gotta wrap this up. Shit. Not good.”

  Yve and I share a concerned look. “Shut it down!”

  Ari shakes her head. “Can’t. Gotta cover my tracks.”

  I’ve never seen anyone work as quickly or in a more focused fashion than Ariel does in the next few minutes.

  “Suck on that, dickhole.” She sounds triumphant when she closes her laptop with a decisive click.

  “What just happened?” I ask her.

  “You asked for help . . . I helped. And now the trails are cleared and they can’t trace my searches back to me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She flips her hair and rolls her eyes. “Didn’t I mention that I’m the best?”

  Yve giggles. “If you don’t remember, she’ll tell you again. I swear, I’ve never met anyone more impressed with her own computer skills than this one.”

  “It’s well deserved. It’s not like I’m bragging. I’m just that good. Now, where’s my lavender lingerie? I’ve got a man to seduce. He doesn’t know I’m a billionaire yet. Hopefully, he doesn’t mind.”

  Chapter 30

  Temperance

  When I pull up at the club, I’m more certain than ever that I’m making the right decision, if only for one reason—I need answers.

  Who the hell he is. What he does. Why he was in my neighborhood. If and how he’s connected to Mount. If he truly bought my artwork, and what he did with it.

  Finally, I want to know if I have to decide to never see him again because he’s involved with something awful and horrible, and my life isn’t going down the criminal path. Except, of course, guilt by association with my boss and her husband . . . and whatever the hell my brother is doing.

  Nothing’s black and white.

  With my mask tied on and a vintage black dress from Dirty Dog covering my new hot-red bra and panties, I climb up the stairs behind the masked man to whom I gave my card. He hands it back to me as soon as he opens the front door for me.

  Tonight, it’s louder inside. More chatter is coming from upstairs, like the guests aren’t afraid of being overheard. That’s new and different.

  What isn’t new and different? The fact that Magnolia is just inside the foyer and her eyes lock on me.

  “I wondered if you’d show tonight. He didn’t think you would.”

  There’s no question about who he is.

  “Where is he?” I ask.

  Something flashes over her face before I can read it. “Come on up with me.”

  Magnolia leads me up to the second floor, to the door where the light spills out from u
nderneath along with the strains of jazz. The only time I’ve been inside that room is when she took me on a tour, but I know it’s the public area of the club.

  As soon as she opens the door and my gaze sweeps the room, I know he’s not here.

  “Is he late?”

  Magnolia leads me to the bar. “You need a drink, I think. You look like you’ve had a long day.”

  I reach out to put a hand on her arm. “Don’t bullshit me, Mags. Is he late or not coming?”

  “What makes you think he’s not coming?”

  “I just need a straight answer. If he’s not here, then I wasted my trip and I have the answer I needed—that I should’ve followed my first instincts and never come back.”

  “Don’t be so hasty now, girl. Maybe there are forces at work here that you can’t understand.” When she glances over her shoulder, I pin her gaze with my own.

  “Is he here or not?”

  She shakes her head. “No. He’s not. Something came up. He called and asked if I’d give you his regrets. He’ll be in touch.”

  What could have come up? Is he okay? Did something happen with the guy at the café? Did it have something to do with the five hundred grand someone paid him that Ariel tracked on the dark web?

  A dozen possibilities pop into my brain, and I have no idea what’s right or wrong. None of them are good possibilities.

  “I have to go,” I tell Magnolia. “This was a mistake.”

  I turn on my heel and head for the door. However, instead of executing a graceful exit, I run smack into the chest of a man—and it’s not the man I want to see. It’s another stranger, and this one I don’t care to know.

  “Who is this delightful little creature, Magnolia? And where have you been hiding her? You afraid of some competition?” His voice is smooth and cultured, and immediately puts me on edge with its smug, condescending tone.

  “She’s just leaving,” Magnolia tells him, her voice coming from right behind me.