Crazy Nights
Danielle Stewart
Contents
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
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Synopsis
Emmitt Kalling isn’t satisfied unless he’s smashing something. It can be a punching bag at the gym or some jerk’s face at the bar. He’s not picky. Since arriving home from his last deployment, he’s itching for some action. But he only finds the same problems he faced before he enlisted.
Evie Pike has been exiled from her budding acting career with few future prospects. On a journey to find her purpose, she discovers her path is only paved with disappointment and the coffee she keeps spilling on her bosses. Feeling painfully unqualified for almost everything, she realizes a chance to hop a plane with Emmitt is like a ripcord on a parachute; she’d better pull it before it’s too late.
She’s desperate to connect. He’s a master at no strings attached. Their attraction is magnetic, but their opinions are polarizing. Will their sizzling chemistry be enough?
Chapter 1
Emmitt Kalling bounced a quarter off the bar into an empty shot glass, welcoming the familiar sound as it popped in and clanked around until it finally fell flat at the bottom. Flat at the bottom, exactly where he always seemed to end up. But that was where he felt most comfortable. He sought it out. There was no risk of falling too far when you were already as low as it gets.
A couple months in Texas and he’d already managed to find the shittiest bar with crooked stools and watered-down drinks. The dimmed lights and clouds of smoke gave anonymity. The static through the speakers drowned out the chatter and complaints from the other drunks. It was flawed in the most perfect way, terrible, but reliably so.
In the military he’d honed plenty of useful skills, but what no one ever told Emmitt was how much waiting around he’d have to do. He was an expert at passing time in unpleasant places. He still laughed now when he thought back to who he had been before he enlisted. Everything had seemed crystal clear. Divided perfectly into buckets of right and wrong. But a handful of deployments later had changed him and his views. Up was down, black was white, and people were just objects standing in his path as he tried to get to the next distraction. His options for diversions were limitless, considering the wealth his family had and the trust fund he’d been given. That meant he could drink until the voices in his head stopped buzzing. Work out until his muscles quaked with exhaustion. And distract himself with a string of women who he could easily dodge the following day. If he lived his life fast enough, nothing, not even his haunted memories, could catch him.
While there were nightmares, there were no regrets in his life. That was by design. A credo he lived by. If you did something, it’s because at the time you believed it was the best thing for you. You thought it over. You chose it. Just because you got older and wiser didn’t mean you had the luxury of complaining about your fuck-ups. Own them. He’d given that speech to many people who had the misfortune of taking the bar stool next to him. But none of them stayed long. People didn’t want that level of truth, and it was all Emmitt was capable of delivering.
“Another?” the set of boobs pretending to be a decent bartender asked as she pulled the shot glass away, fished out the quarter, and threw it in her tip jar.
“Nope,” Emmitt replied gruffly as he pushed his broken bar stool back and tossed a few more dollars down for boobs the bartender to pick up. It wouldn’t be long before someone announced last call and the lights came on and the whole goddamn world would be too bright to face. He’d leave now. Another of his lessons to live by, get out before shit got real.
“Have a good—” someone called out behind him but the words got cut short by the slamming of the bar door as he walked out into the street.
The ringing of his phone jolted him for a moment; sudden sounds always put him in a heightened state of readiness. A gift the military had given him. Shot nerves.
As he glanced at his blurry phone screen he made out the number was blocked. To most people it would mean they’d send the call straight to voicemail. But in Emmitt’s line of business, security of any and all sorts, he knew a blocked number could mean a job. A tip. A lead.
“Emmitt Kalling,” he answered brashly, never wanting to sound too welcoming. He was selective in which projects he took on. Money meant nothing to him. He had plenty of it at his fingertips. The job had to have some kind of adrenaline-fueled rush in it or he wasn’t interested.
“Hello Emmitt. My name is Dax Marshall. I know it’s late but the guy who gave me your number said you keep odd hours. He thought I’d be better off calling you now than during the day.”
“Who gave you my number?” Emmitt asked, not recognizing the name of the caller. Though in truth he was drunk enough to have probably met the guy yesterday and not remembered.
“Listen, I’m in need of your services, are you available or not?” Dax inquired coolly, sounding ready to hang up if the answer was no.
“Depends,” Emmitt replied as he strode down the dark street toward his dive of a motel room. He might just be the only rich bastard who’d rather stay in a grungy dank place with a lumpy bed and a dirty carpet than the luxury suites his brother Mathew always frequented. “Is it worth my time? I’m not in the mood to play babysitter to someone. If you’re looking for a personal bodyguard, it’s a no.”
“Luckily I was already warned how personable you are so I won’t hold it against you. Apparently your skills are worth it. I can’t promise the job will be exciting, but it pays well. The Barringtons take care of their employees.”
“The Barringtons?” Emmitt asked, remembering his brother’s interest in the family. Though he only half listened when Mathew droned on about business, he was certain the name Barrington had popped up and with some sort of complaint about not being able to get a meeting with them. “Asher Barrington?” Emmitt probed.
“You know Asher?” Dax asked tentatively.
“I know the name. But that’s enough; you’ve piqued my interest. What’s the job?” Emmitt kicked at a few stones as he stumbled closer to the motel.
“Lance Barrington is actually in need of your services. He’s had an odd
visitor, a breach really, at his office recently, and it’s sparked some concern.”
“What line of business are we talking? Oil? Something with Middle Eastern ties? I’ve got plenty of experience with—”
Dax cut him off. “He’s an architect.”
&n
bsp; “Not a notoriously dangerous field,” Emmitt chuckled. “What kind of unwelcomed guest did you say he had? Was she selling cookies because if that’s the case, get a few boxes of thin mints and send her on her way. Crisis averted.”
Dax ignored the joke and moved on. “Lance keeps his hands clean. I don’t know him to have any enemies. With that said, a woman pretending to be his temporary secretary came in and left a strange business card. All black with white lettering. Just a phone number. She seemed to be talking in code or something. I didn’t get the full story but it was enough to raise some flags.”
Emmitt had a pretty good idea who the woman might be. There weren’t many big players in that area and knowing it was a woman really narrowed it down. But it was the trademark card that told him what he needed to know. “I’m in. Text me the address, and I’ll fly in and meet Lance tomorrow. We can talk money and details then. If that card belongs to who I think it does, your guy might not be the dull architect with clean hands like you thought. This woman doesn’t bother with boring people.”
“The last thing the Barringtons need is excitement. They make plenty of their own. You can touch base with Lance tomorrow and hopefully put this to bed quickly.”
“And Asher?” Emmitt asked, knowing his brother would not care about any interactions with Lance, the architect, but would be thoroughly invested in hearing about face time with Asher.
“What about him?” Dax cut back, starting to sound annoyed.
“He’s got a reputation that leads me to believe I’d want to meet him. Set that up for me,” Emmitt asserted confidently.
Dax laughed loudly. “If you actually knew his reputation you’d understand that is never going to happen. If Asher has a need to see you, he will. Otherwise consider yourself nonessential because you won’t cross paths. Anyone who chases him usually ends up tired and empty-handed.”
“He’ll see me,” Emmitt replied conceitedly. “I have a habit of becoming sought after.” Like the arrogant bullheaded guy he was, Emmitt hung up the phone abruptly and tucked it into his pocket. He turned toward the bar, considering a few more drinks to celebrate leaving Texas and heading back home to Boston. Instead he dragged himself back in the direction of the dark motel and started planning his attack on the mini bar.
He hadn’t wanted to come to Texas in the first place. Mathew had bailed on him back in Boston by leaving suddenly to chase after James West and partner with him on his family’s oil business. Although Mathew promised he wouldn’t be there long, something had come up. A woman. Mathew had fallen in love. She suddenly needed protection, and that was Emmitt’s Achilles heel. It took him down every time. Mathew called, asking for help, and Emmitt delivered. But that job was done. His brother and Jessica were all good now. Better than good. They were inseparable and happy, and it made Emmitt want to toss them both off a bridge. Not a high bridge. Not something where the fall would kill them but something just big enough to ruin their perfect little day. He smiled at the image.
The idea of a happy couple made Emmitt glance down at this phone and pull up his text messages. Evie, the girl he’d pretended to be guarding, while actually watching over Jessica, had sent him a few messages he couldn’t bring himself to delete. It wasn’t like him to be sentimental or hold on to anything, but for some reason she stuck with him. It was how she’d conducted herself that he found most compelling.
She’d traded her big acting debut for loyalty. She stood up for Jessica against a dickhead of a director who went on to trash both their careers. It made Emmitt’s blood boil to think about that asshole and what he did to Evie. The girl had done what she thought was right but now couldn’t seem to catch a break. He scrolled though the messages again.
Evie: Sorry about the car. I’ll have it cleaned. I suck at everything.
He chuckled a little at the memory of her dumping a full bag of Chinese food into the back seat of his rental car. She’d been running errands for West Oil since she got fired from the movie set, and she was absolutely awful at it. He conjured up the image of her tiptoeing into the office he’d taken over in the West Oil building and hiding behind her fingers while she told him about accidently knocking over the projector in the middle of a board meeting. She flushed every shade of pink and all it did was make him want to pick her up and lay her on his desk. He wanted to know if that flush covered every inch of her.
But in an effort to keep things from being too messy, he’d left her alone. Texas was a temporary stop for him, and Evie didn’t seem like a temporary kind of girl. She wasn’t remotely prepared for a man like him. Emmitt wasn’t known for doing the right thing by people, but Evie seemed so close to falling apart, so down on her luck, he couldn’t think about being the one to finally break her.
Chapter 2
“I’m taking the jet,” a brash voice called in a near shout, sending Evie jumping and spilling the tray of coffee cups across the long boardroom table.
“Shit,” she yelped, using her bare hands to try to sweep the puddle of iced coffee away from a stack of papers. Mathew shot to his feet and pulled the documents away, then lightly tapped Evie’s arm.
“It’s fine, we’ll have the cleaning crew come up. It’s no big deal,” he assured her, but Evie wasn’t convinced.
“But your coffee is . . .” she gasped, stepping away while still staring at the mess. “It’s basically the only thing I was qualified for and now I’d say we can rule this out too.”
“It’s not your fault,” James West chimed in uncharacteristically, offering forgiveness. “Emmitt had to come in here yelling like he owns the place. Otherwise you wouldn’t have spilled them.”
“First off, Evie doesn’t seem to need a reason to spill things. I assumed it was a hobby of hers. Second, I’m taking the jet,” Emmitt repeated, seeming completely unfazed by the mess or Evie’s brightly burning cheeks.
“I heard you the first time,” James answered flatly. Evie had finally begun to get a handle on each person’s role in this weird saga she’d stepped into. James West was now the CEO of West Oil, since his father had suffered a stroke. The company had been the source of much controversy, but James was working to right the ship. Mathew was his business partner, his best friend, and as far as Evie could tell, his polar opposite. They argued about almost everything, but somehow they seemed to keep things afloat. They disagreed but seemed to care about each other in some odd way. The same could not be said for Mathew’s brother, Emmitt.
To date, she hadn’t heard him agree with anyone on anything. What she had seen was Emmitt and James nearly come to blows twice in the last two months. Mathew was always standing between them, seeming to try to balance loyalty to his brother and to his best friend. And they all ended up losing in one way or another in the end.
“Mathew,” Emmitt boomed, “the jet.” He directed his attention solely to his brother now and turned his back on James.
“For what?” Mathew asked, flipping the coffee cups right side up again. Evie felt the urge to hide, the energy in the room vibrating to a dangerous crescendo. She backed up a few steps but Emmitt’s large frame was blocking the door. There was no exit that didn’t involve her shoving him aside. If that was even possible. His broad shoulders took up most of the doorframe and his tree-trunk legs were planted firmly on the ground.
“I’m going back to Boston. I have a job up there. Have the jet ready.” His eyes never flinched, and his words never softened. If Evie or anyone else in the room was waiting around for a please or thank you, she had a feeling they’d better not hold their breath.
“And my jet is yours to borrow like it’s a toy or something?” James chuckled humorously. “You can ask nicely.”
“You can go fu—”
“Can you watch your language for hell’s sake?” Mathew asked, kicking his chin over at Evie. “You two are unbelievable. I’m sick of breaking up your fights.”
“I’m sure her delicate little ears have heard worse.” The stare that accompanied Emmitt’s words set Evie’s
skin tingling. He was the most intense man she’d ever met. The brief time he’d spent as her bodyguard on the movie set before she’d been fired was still blazed in her mind. The problem was he was as brash as he was gorgeous and that was saying something, because the man was stunning.
“Are you going to ask nicely?” James egged on again with a devilish grin.
“Dunno,” Emmitt said unemotionally as though this were a poker game and he was holding a full house. “I can always call the Barringtons and tell them I don’t want the job. Then it wouldn’t matter what time I got back to Boston.”
Evie knew the name. The sought-after CEO of a company James and Mathew were working hard to align with. When she wasn’t spilling coffee on people or forgetting to give them messages, she was sitting around overhearing business conversations, and she knew Emmitt was making an important play.
“What are you talking about?” Mathew cut in before James could counter with anything. “You have a job working for Asher Barrington?”
“Lance,” Emmitt said with a nonchalant shrug. “One of the brothers. I don’t know any details yet so don’t bother asking me. Still want to be a dick about the jet?”
“Why you?” James asked, standing abruptly and rounding the table. “Why did they call you?”
“Because I’m the best at what I do.”
“Your reputation precedes you,” James agreed, “But not in a good way.”
“That’s your perception, but if you knew anything about what I do you’d be offering me buckets of money to stay here.”
“Like that job in Knoxville?” James asked, and Evie again felt the urge to run out the door. Instead she pushed herself to the wall and braced for the fireworks to come.
“Every time,” Emmitt complained with a shake of his head. “You bring that up every single time. I get it, it’s a filthy job. But someone has to get shit done. I happen to be the one to get my hands dirty and then you criticize.”
Crazy Nights (The Barrington Billionaires Book 3) Page 1