Heart Thief (Black Market Billionaire Book 1)

by Skylar Sweeney

  “Lucky for you, Mason likes bad boys,” Valentine spoke up in a much-too-peppy voice. “At least according to her search history and the romance books she reads. Last week she bought one where the motorcycle gang leader kidnaps a Denny’s waitress and makes her his sex slave. They end up getting married at the end, but she still wears a collar and a buttplug at the wedding.”

  “That’s a romance novel?” I said, staring at him in disbelief. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty certain I saw that in a porno once. Minus the wedding.”

  Val make a clucking sound. “Plagiarism. It’s everywhere.”

  “Also, the fact that she hates me definitely doesn’t help this ridiculous plan,” I pointed out with a sigh.

  “Yes, she hates you. Nearly as much as she wants you,” Conner said, a knowing smirk on his face. “Take it from someone who does this professionally: Over the years, her obsession with you has definitely tipped from true hate to a twisted sort of infatuation. She doesn’t want to want you, but she does. If you push her, she’ll give in and spread her legs.”

  “She has a boyfriend,” I protested.

  “But he treats her like shit,” Val said with a bright smile. “Everyone says women hate that.”

  My eyes narrowed. Since when did Psycho Val notice what was or wasn’t considered good treatment of his fellow human beings? He used to crucify people for cussing him out online. “This has nothing to do with the security breaches at all, does it? You bastards are still trying to get me to ask her out! I told you, I’m not in love with her!”

  “Of course it’s about the security breaches. We just think she’s more likely to open up to you if you have a sexual relationship with her,” Sonny claimed, making me want to strangle him for being a lying SOB.

  “Don’t you think if we’re going for a relationship con then Conner or even Jones should do it?” I said. “Someone who is good with chicks? You all know I suck with women.”

  “No, it needs to be you. Strong emotions make people do and say things they don’t mean to, and if there is one thing Mason has for you, it’s very strong feelings,” Sonny put in seriously. “With anyone else, she may be able to keep her cool. With you, she will definitely break. And when she does, we’ll have a chance of actually figuring out who’s behind this mess with the lab.”

  “Or we could always skip the long con,” Jones said helpfully, “and just take her to Level Nine and break her legs. That makes you feel strong emotions.” There was a short silence before he added, “That was a joke, guys.”

  “Bullshit,” Conner muttered, and Val nodded his agreement.

  “You totally meant it, Mr. Jones.”

  “Okay, okay, how does this sound?” I said, well aware that I would lose this fight in the end and a little worried that Jones might go ahead and take her to the Interrogation Floor just to spite me. “I’ll give it a try. When I fail at wooing her, which I know that I will, because I am cursed when it comes to women… Then we’ll talk about her legs.”

  I glanced down at my smartwatch, flipping it to the locator showing where Mason’s phone GPS currently was. “In the meantime, I’m going to go keep an eye on our lady friend, and try to find out who the hell has pulled her into our world. This bastard didn’t know what he was getting into when he decided to fuck with my best frenemy.”

  - mason -

  I giggled, leaning against Christy as we stumbled away from our third bar of the night, heels in our purses and hair pulled up in messy buns. There was no day like Monday to go barhopping, that was for sure. While the manflesh hadn’t been top notch so far, the deals on booze were fantastic, and we didn’t have to mess with the crowds.

  “Look, that one has three dollar margaritas!” Christy screeched, pointing to a bar across the street and jumping up and down, as if either one of us needed another drop of alcohol tonight.

  “You’re kidding me!” I shouted, clapping my hands together. “That’s almost as awesome as my new job!”

  Christy let out a loud snort. “I still can’t believe you interviewed with Rex of all people and came out without handcuffs!”

  “Is she kinky or something?”

  I jerked, looking around for the source of that very rude comment. It didn’t take long considering how big the source of the comment was. In fact, if he hadn’t looked absolutely nothing like him, I’d have thought he was Rex—that’s how big this guy was. Only this guy was way fatter and had much lighter hair, green eyes, and a way bigger nose. Oh yeah, and a British accent. Craziness.

  “That was really rude,” I informed him primly, and he nodded.

  “Yes, us Brits are like that.”

  “You’re really tall,” Christy informed him, and I nodded my agreement.

  “Yeah, and you look crazy like my boss. Except that you look nothing like him at all. But if you did look more like him, you would look exactly like him.” I paused. “Did that make sense?”

  “None at all,” he said. “But that’s alright. You ladies seem a bit tipsy. Been to a few pubs already tonight, have we?”

  “Aye, matey,” Christy said, sounding more like a pirate than a Brit. “We’re headed to another now. Three dollar margaritas!”

  “Sounds like a winner to me. Can I join ya?”

  I punched him lightly in the arm. “Sure thing! You can be our new bar buddy. What’s your name?”

  He flashed a smile that looked way like Rex’s. God, I really needed to stop thinking about that man! And drinking.

  “The name’s William Windsor. How about you?”

  “I’m Mason Dansley, and my friend’s Christy Phillips.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mason, Christy,” William said, moving off toward the three dollar margarita bar. “You ladies celebrating something tonight?”

  “Mason managed to get a job without getting arrested for murder!” Christy said brightly as we entered the bar, which was decorated like the lovechild of a gas station on the Mexican border and an 80s karaoke club.

  I sighed dramatically as the three of us settled onto stools at the bar, which looked like it was topped with bathroom tiles. “I dunno why everybody seems to think I’d get arrested if I shot him. I could handle a drive by or something!”

  Christy blew a raspberry. “Puh-lease. You wouldn’t even know where to get a gun.”

  “Uh, yeah, I would,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s called Texas. Duh.”

  “The lady has a point,” William said with a nod. “No license needed there. Well, to carry concealed. But as long as you keep it hanging free out o’ your trousers, all’s good in the Lone Star State.”

  We stared at him for a long moment, then Christy burst out laughing, and I joined her in giggles.

  “That sounded kind of dirty, Willy,” I said, waving my arms madly at the bartender, who seemed to be very busy fixing drinks for his Sims on his smartphone right now. “Hey, can we get some margaritas over here?!”

  “I’ll be right there,” the bartender muttered, not even looking up from his Sims bar.

  I rolled my eyes, turning back to Christy. “You remember that bachelorette party we went to in Dallas?”

  She nodded, laughing again. “Yeah, for your cousin. You won’t believe what happened there, Willy.”

  “What’s that?” he said, raising his eyebrow.

  I snickered. “We were at this male stripper club, right? For ladies—no men allowed to watch. There are plenty of those in the gay district. This one was for us.”

  William nodded. “Only seems fair.”

  “Yeah, so this woman with crazy 80s hair pulled out her gun and turned it on this woman who was sleeping with—get this—her husband and her pastor. At the same time! Then it turned out that, like, half the women in the club had a concealed carry license, and they all pull out their guns.”

  “But what I still can’t believe,” Christy added, “is where the stripper on stage pulled his from.”

  I clapped my hands together, laughing shrilly. “He pulled his piece right out of
his thong!”

  “Wow,” William said, shaking his head in a way that sort of made it look like his hair wobbled. Did he have a toupee? It was a good one.

  “Your fake hair is way better than Donald Trump’s,” I said, giving him a big smile. “You must have paid good money for it.”

  “Mason,” Christy hissed, “you’re not supposed to point out men’s toupees. They don’t like that.”

  “It’s okay,” William said. “I appreciate the compliment.”

  “BARTENDER!” I shouted, scowling when I realized that Sims server was gone. “We need some drinks! I’m starting to sober up, and that’s not cool!”

  I jumped as, out of nowhere, a man seemed to appear behind the bar, slamming his gigantic hands down on the tile. My eyes widened as I looked up and up and up. He was even taller than Rex and Willy, who both were something like 6’9”. His head was shaved, and he was wearing a skin tight black tank top that showed off his bulging arms and tattoos of things like tanks and machine guns on his biceps.

  “There’s this lady at my new office who I think you would like,” I informed him cheerfully. “Her name’s Mrs. Cho, and she likes shopping for rifles.”

  “What can I get you?” he said in a flat tone, glaring down at us.

  “Margaritas!” Christy sang out, and I nodded rapidly.

  “Yup, me too! What about you, Willy?”

  “Yes, Willy,” Tattoo ‘Tender said dryly, raising an eyebrow at our new friend. “What about you?”

  “Call me Willy again, and I will break your nose, mate,” William said, making me squeak. “I was talking to him, not you, sweetie,” he said, patting me on the head. I smiled. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m bartending, obviously. A man has to have something to put on his tax returns.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked, frowning. “I’m trying to think about you in my head, but I don’t have a name for you, and the one I came up with was weird.”

  “Call me Kansas,” Tattoo ‘Tender replied, which wasn’t much better than what I’d come up with.

  “Oh, so this is coincidence?” William said, and I frowned, looking back and forth between the two men. Did they know each other? Kansas was way hotter than Willy, mostly ‘cause Willy was really fat, so they probably weren’t dating each other.

  “It happens,” Kansas said, and Willy laughed.

  “So you following them around Brooklyn for the past two hours. That was coincidence, too?”

  “Shit,” Kansas muttered, his giant shoulders slumping. “I don’t suppose you’d just give a good ‘cheerio, mate’ and walk away, huh, Majesty?”

  “Sorry, Kansas, but I have my eye on the lady.”

  I smiled brightly as William stood up and… pulled a handful of short knives out of his pocket?

  Christy screeched as one went flying through the air—apparently they had no handles because they were made to throw—and Kansas ducked to the side, leaving the knife embedded in the wall like a damn dart.

  William didn’t hesitate to throw again, and Kansas flipped himself over the bar, landing next to the other man, body in a loose fighting stance.

  “Didn’t take you for a knife type, Maj,” Kansas said as Christy and I stumbled back, trying to get away from the utter insanity that had just erupted. “Thought it a bit bloody for your prison bitch ass, flower boy.”

  William shrugged. “Long range weapons—looks more like catsup from far away, y’know?”

  “Hey, where’d your accent go?” I shrieked, well aware that I was drawing attention I did not want to myself with the exclamation, but too drunk to stop myself.

  “Shut up, Mason,” William snapped, suddenly sounding remarkably like Rex. And looking a lot like him too as the button down shirt he was wearing was ripped off, revealing a strap on belly he dumped to the ground before falling into his own fighting stance.

  I blinked, staring with my mouth hanging open as Rex-with-a-large-nose-and-toupee swung at Kansas, jabbing him in the neck with the tip of his hand multiple times in a row.

  “Maybe we should get out of here,” Christy said, her eyes enormous, and I nodded. Of course, that would be easier to do if the two Hagrid-sized men weren’t currently fighting right in front of the door.

  Kansas did some sort of roundhouse kick, slamming Rex hard in the face. I screamed and clutched my own jaw in sympathy pain, but Rex didn’t even blink, apparently not giving a damn that he’d just received a steel-toed combat boot to the teeth.

  “I don’t know what you and your weird little group of crime spree retirees want with the women, but you’re not laying a finger on them, Majesty,” Kansas growled as Rex wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him into a choke hold.

  Rex’s choke hold tightened, then loosened again as a suspicious look came over his face.

  “Repeat,” he snapped in a military sounding voice, and Kansas’s eyes rolled up, an equally suspicious look in his own eyes.

  “I said, I don’t know what you want with the women, but you’re not touching them.”

  Rex growled, hold loosening a little more. “You’re bodyguarding?”

  “Long distance protective duty. Covert,” Kansas said shortly.

  “Me too,” Rex said, and Kansas snorted.

  “Bullshit. You don’t work. You’ve got plenty of cash without taking Family jobs.”

  “This is for my own benefit. Look into it. The redhead and I have a history. She works for me now.” He tightened his grip around Kansas’ neck again, making the other man choke. “I’m going to release you, but if you fucking come after me, this won’t end nicely.”

  “Understood,” he choked out, and Rex released him, backing away as fast as possible.

  Kansas did the same, stumbling to the opposite side of the bar, leaving the men as far apart as possible with us in between.

  Not a very comforting realization. In fact, it kind of sounded like the beginning of a porno.

  “What the fuck is going on?!” I shrieked, really sick of being the clueless drunk girl. It was amazing how sobering watching two huge men beat the shit out of each other could be.

  Rex gave me a guilty looking smile. “Hey, Mason, how’s it going?”

  “How’s it going, he says!” I shouted, narrowing my eyes at him. “It would be a lot better if my archenemy wasn’t dressing up like a fat, British guy in a toupee so that he could follow me to bars and watch me get wasted!”

  Rex grimaced, and I noticed that Kansas looked like he was trying not to laugh.

  “That wasn’t actually the reason I was following you. I told you I thought you might be in danger. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “So your solution was to dress up as Willy and come drink margaritas with me?”

  Rex shrugged. “I was trying to be nice.” He nodded toward the other man. “Kansas there has a hardcore rep.”

  “Right, and what the hell are you here for, Kansas?” I demanded, glaring at the other man, who just shrugged.

  "Are you named after the state or the band?" Christy asked, which I thought was a perfectly fair question, but both men ignored.

  “He’s a guy who does work for guys like me,” Rex said with a shrug. “He helps out criminals who need enemies kidnapped and stuff like that. But he does bodyguard work, too, and apparently that’s what he was hired for, not for hurting you.” He glanced over at Kansas, scowling. “The question is, who the fuck thought Mason would need protecting?”

  Kansas smirked. “You know I don’t give up my clients, so unless you have a month or two for interrogation…”

  Rex frowned, eyes narrowing. “You’d be amazing how much time I’m able to find when it comes to Mason’s safety.”

  The other man stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “You’d owe me a favor. And I want payment for the rest of this job. It was supposed to go all week.”

  “Deal,” Rex replied, and Kansas reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card. It was blue, with only an image of what
looked like the cartoon lamp from Disney’s Aladdin and a large 3 printed behind it.

  “That’s all I have on the client. Payment went directly into my bank account. This was left in the PO Box I use for work, along with printed instructions to follow Mason Dansley, keep her safe, and remain totally covert.” He paused, glancing over at us. “He also mentioned that she’s not the brightest flare in the pack and that I shouldn’t have any trouble going undercover around her, so I assume he’s had contact with her.”

  “Hey,” I said, glaring at him. “I’m plenty smart!”

  Kansas snorted. “Your own boyfriend was undercover as a British prince at your girl’s night out.”

  Christy giggled, and I scowled. “He is not my boyfriend! And is that who William Windsor is? I thought I recognized the name.”

  Rex snorted. “Thanks, Kansas. I owe you one. Job’s over. Get gone, and let it be known that the girl is mine, and anyone who wants to keep their balls will stay away from jobs that have anything to do with her.”

  Kansas shrugged. “Whatever, rich boy. I’m out of here. I want payment in 24 or I’m coming after my cash.”

  “You’ll get your money,” Rex snapped, and Kansas nodded, looking satisfied as he headed toward the door.

  I sat down hard on one of the barstools, shaking my head in disbelief. “Where the hell did you meet that guy?”

  Rex laughed, shaking his head as he went behind the bar—I suddenly realized the whole place was entirely empty of people—and grabbed a bottle of tequila, along with lime juice and liqueur. “You meet a lot of people in prison,” he said vaguely as he began to mix a margarita.

  “I didn’t know you could fight like that,” I said, and Rex shrugged.

  “I boxed and wrestled in school. Plus the guy who landscaped our home was a professional fighter when he was younger, and he taught me a lot of tricks.”

  “Like knife throwing?” I said, and he nodded.

  “Actually, yeah. He also taught me how to prune roses well enough to make it to our county-wide competition.”

  “Impressive,” Christy said, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Whatever,” I replied, standing up and grabbing my purse. “This is insane. I’m going home.”