Billionaires and Bad Boys: The Complete 7-Book Box Set

by Nikki Chase

  I deserve that punishment, at least.

  “I don’t want to bring up bad memories for you, Ali, because this has something to do with your parents,” Zeke says.

  “Please tell me.”

  “Okay. Well, the guy who killed your parents and…took you? He went after your dad’s people, including Trevor Whitley. Trevor’s guys were trying to track down that guy, while he was trying to do the same to them.”

  “Walter,” I say.

  “Yeah.”

  It has been a while since I uttered that name. Ever since he died and his operation was shut down, I’ve been trying to distance myself from anything that could remind me of him.

  But my sins will follow me anywhere.

  I might as well confess. Maybe the Catholics are right. Maybe absolution starts with a confession.

  “Zeke,” I say quietly. “Was Trevor Whitley working from the base in Redford?”

  “Yeah,” Zeke answers. There’s a little surprise in his voice. Soon, there could be some anger, too.

  “I was the one who told Walter about that place,” I say.

  I turn to look at Zeke, studying his expression, waiting to see the shock and horror on his face, expecting hate and fury from him.

  “I thought that could’ve been the case,” Zeke says, to my utter disbelief.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you… You don’t hate me?”

  Zeke frowns and glances at me before turning his attention back to the road. “Why should I hate you?”

  Isn’t it obvious?

  “I was the one who got him killed, Trevor Whitley and the rest of the men,” I say, spelling it out for him. Maybe there’s some misunderstanding here.

  “You didn’t get them killed, Ali. Walter was the one who killed them. It’s not your fault.”

  “But if I didn’t tell him, then maybe Trevor Whitley would’ve been able to find Walter first and win.”

  “Right,” Zeke admits. Maybe he gets it now. Maybe he’s starting to hate me now. He asks, “And when you were Walter’s captive, wasn’t that what you were hoping would happen? For your dad’s men to come rescue you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Exactly. So you obviously didn’t do it on purpose. You wanted them to succeed. Walter must’ve cornered you into giving out the information.”

  Memories flash in my mind, of Walter asking me, over and over again, if I had any information.

  He didn’t threaten to hurt me—he never harmed me physically, because it would make him look bad, like he couldn’t control his woman.

  So instead, he told me he’d “gift” one of the younger girls to his men, as a reward for keeping all the prisoners in line.

  “I could’ve tried harder,” I say softly.

  “I know we haven’t talked about your time in captivity. I thought you’d probably want to forget about it and leave it in the past. But since you’re bringing it up now and you seem to have some misconceptions about how people perceive it… Ali, none of it was your fault.”

  “It was my family’s fault for dragging all those people into danger, and it was my fault for putting them in a direct line of fire,” I say stubbornly as we drive into the basement parking lot of the apartment.

  “No. Hold on,” Zeke says as he backs the car into its usual parking space.

  My mind races with a million thoughts as I wait for Zeke. I’ve been living with this guilt for the longest time.

  My dad was not innocent; he ran his own illegal operation. But everyone who worked for him was there out of their own volition.

  I don’t know the specifics of what he did because I was still so young when he died—I know he used violence too, but only against other people doing the same kind of shady business that he did. There was nothing my dad hated more than people who took advantage of the weak—people like Walter.

  So he discreetly tried to sabotage Walter’s business, which involved bringing people into the country illegally and forcing them to work at his farm for no pay.

  Walter wasn’t happy when he found out about my dad’s interference, so he killed my parents and kidnapped me.

  I was terrified. I kept wondering why they were keeping me alive, after killing my whole family. My mind came up with all kinds of sordid scenarios—rape, torture, slavery… The list went on.

  As it turned out, Walter kept me around as a symbol of his victory. In the eyes of his associates, I was his girlfriend.

  In reality, he was distant and cruel toward me, but he never had any interest in touching me sexually, or offering me to his men, or putting me to work at his farm. I was a prized trophy and he didn’t want to get a scratch on me.

  Thanks to my position as the boss’ girlfriend, I could move relatively freely. I couldn’t leave the compound any time I wanted, but I could chat with anyone on the inside.

  So I started chatting to Walter’s men, trying to find someone who still had a heart. And I found that in Seth.

  With Seth’s help, I escaped Walter’s farm and together we helped other people get away. Things blew up when Seth finally attacked the farm and killed Walter.

  Up until a few months ago, when I moved to the city, I’d been helping Seth fight Walter and men like him.

  I’ve been feeling guilty about washing my hands off this, when Seth continues his fight. There’s always more I could do to make up for all my sins.

  And now Zeke is telling me none if it was my fault?

  Zeke finally stops the car and turns to look at me. There’s no hatred in his eyes—not even anger. Just kindness.

  “Ali, listen to me,” he says, taking my hands in his. “You were a victim of your circumstances. You got caught in this mess, but none of it was your fault. You understand that?”

  “But if it wasn’t for me, Trevor Whitley would’ve been alive,” I protest. “Him and maybe many other men who were with him.”

  “But you didn’t have a choice.”

  “How could you say that, when I’m responsible for so many deaths?”

  “Did you personally point a gun at them and pull the trigger?” Zeke asks, staring at me with his piercing eyes.

  “No,” I admit.

  “Exactly. It’s not your fault, Ali,” he says sincerely. “Please believe me when I say that nobody blames you for any of it.”

  “Does Joanne know?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  I grow quiet. I don’t know how she could be aware of my culpability in her husband’s death and not hate me. I mean, the way she just welcomed me like family…

  “And she doesn’t hate me?” I ask, my voice breaking mid-sentence.

  “Nobody blames you, Ali,” Zeke says reassuringly.

  “And you… You don’t hate me?”

  “Ali, I…” Zeke takes a deep breath, then says, “I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, as many times as it takes. I love you.”

  My eyes well up, and tears stream down my cheeks. Nothing will stop them now.

  “I love you, too,” I blurt out, finally saying out loud the words I’ve only ever uttered in my heart so far.

  “Oh, Ali,” Zeke says gently as he takes me into his arms. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe, warm, and completely accepted.

  Zeke

  “To be honest, I’ve been feeling guilty, too,” I admit.

  Sitting here in the dark, with Ali in my arms, it seems safe to finally say the words out loud.

  “Why?” Ali’s head shifts against my shoulder as she looks up at me.

  I continue to stare out the big glass window. This is my favorite spot to think when I need solitude. And now I’m sharing this couch with Ali, but somehow it feels just as private.

  “Ali, I thought you were dead,” I say after a long silence, my voice shaking with emotion.

  Even at the time when I really believed she was no longer on this Earth, I never actually said those words. I grieved on my own, hating myself for never making things right with h
er.

  “That would be a reasonable conclusion,” she says, to my surprise. “I was caught by a guy who killed my parents and those loyal to them. It’s only natural that you’d think that. Why would you feel bad about that?”

  “I should’ve tried to find you. I should’ve been the one to rescue you,” I say quietly, still unable to meet her beautiful eyes.

  “But you didn’t even know if I was alive.”

  “Yeah. Exactly. And I just assumed you weren’t.”

  “There was nothing you could’ve done,” she says.

  “But there was. Trevor and the other guys were working on finding you. I helped with their expenses, but I could’ve been more involved.”

  “You helped them?”

  “Yeah. With your parents gone, there was nobody left to pay those guys. As loyal as they were to your parents, they had their own families to feed, and they had to choose between starvation and abandoning their quest for revenge. So I helped them.”

  “Thank you for doing that,” Ali says with the kind of sincerity that cuts into my flesh.

  “It was nothing, Ali. Your family treated the staff amazingly well, and the guys felt like they had to repay your family for that kindness. I believed in what they were doing, and I had the money.” Things are starting to feel a little too heavy, so I add, “Think of it as, like, a Kickstarter donation.”

  Ali giggles softly. “Still, you didn’t have to do that, and you did it anyway.”

  “I could’ve been more involved.”

  “And then what?” Ali asks, challenging me. “You could’ve been killed, just like Trevor Whitley. You wouldn’t be here for me, and I need you now.”

  “You do?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” Ali says as she wraps her arms around me tighter. “Of course I do.”

  It’s strange, getting used to Ali being so affectionate with me. She has always been kind and sweet, but it feels different now.

  It’s like she has been holding back all this love within her, and now that she has told me how she feels about me, she’s letting it loose.

  It’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

  “You’re right, Ali. All that matters is we’re here now.” I turn toward her and kiss the top of her head. Her dark hair still smells like a field of wildflowers, even though it’s already late at night.

  “Yeah.” Ali looks up and gazes at me.

  There are specks of light in her beautiful eyes, the glassy surface reflecting the neon signs from the skyscrapers outside.

  And there’s something else, too. Something that makes me feel sad and happy at the same time—happy that we’ve found ourselves in each other’s arms again after all these years, and sad that we’ve wasted all that time.

  We could’ve been together. I could’ve protected her, and she could’ve loved me like this, the entire time.

  But we’re here now. We’re alive, and we’re together. We should make the most of it.

  I take her face in my hands, putting my palms over her ears and hair. I want her to only see me, to only hear me, to only feel me.

  I’ve waited long enough, and now she’s mine. All mine.

  She closes her eyes, waiting.

  I’ve been a fool to let her wait for me for as long as she has. And I’m not going to wait any longer to claim those lips, or the rest of her.

  This time might be all we have, and I’m not wasting any more of it.

  Still, there’s no need to rush. I graze my lips against hers as I close my eyes. I want to shut out the world and feel only her.

  She parts her lips for me—pliant, eager, hungry. I sweep inside with my tongue, and she kisses me back with just as much force. She’s impatient. She wants me, and I shouldn’t keep her waiting a second more. Fuck taking it slow.

  I kiss her with bruising force, ravaging her mouth. Her breathing gets more ragged, more labored. Our lips and tongues swirl together, and soon we’re both panting, our arms wrapped around each other.

  When I pull back, she’s breathing heavily, her eyes half-lidded and full of lust. Her lips are wet and flushed red. They look as good as they taste. I can’t wait to make her lower lips just as wet and ready for me.

  I lay her down. As I kiss her neck, I can smell both the leather of the couch and the remaining whiff of hospital smell on her clothes. Good thing they’re coming off.

  I start to unbutton her flimsy pink blouse from the top. “Fuck,” I curse. “How are there so many fucking buttons?”

  Ali starts to look down and giggle, but I cut that short with a firm bite on the graceful column of her neck. She plops her head back down on the couch, her wavy hair fanning out around her. A moan escapes from between her lips. The soft sound sends my blood rushing to my cock.

  With half of the buttons undone, I can just catch a glimpse of her black lacy bra underneath. With haste, I pull the blouse up. She lifts her body up off the couch to let me yank it off.

  I take the opportunity to slip my hand under her back to unhook her bra clasp and take that off as well. That’s one sexy bra, but I don’t care about the wrapping when the present inside is so much more enticing.

  Ali grabs at my shirt, and I pull it all the way off. I love knowing that she wants to see me as much as I want to see her.

  I lean down take one nipple into my mouth, as my hands fumble with the fly of her jeans. I love how skinny jeans show me every curve of Ali’s thighs and legs, but they suck when the time comes to take them off.

  I slip my hand down the front of Ali’s jeans and find her pussy. I can feel how wet she is, even over her panties. She parts her legs further for me. Dirty girl—just the way I like her.

  Ali has prominent lips, and I can feel them with my fingers. I can tell exactly what to do and where. She so sensitive she starts moaning and pushing her hips forward, as soon as my fingers lightly brush over her pussy lips.

  I look up at her, even as my lips and tongue play with her nipple.

  Her face is scrunched up with lust. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and her eyebrows are pulled together. She holds on to my arms, moaning and grabbing tighter whenever I do something that feels good.

  I love how easy it is to read her and give her what she wants. But I can do even better once those damn skinny jeans come off.

  I shift up over Ali’s body, letting go of her nipple and leaning down to lightly nibble on her neck. My cock is straining the front of my jeans. I press the hard bulge against Ali’s pussy. Even through our layers of clothes, she moans and pulls me tighter.

  “You want my cock inside you?” I ask, whispering in her ear in the dark.

  “Yeah,” Ali answers, half-moaning.

  “Then you have to do something for me,” I say.

  Ali opens her eyes and looks up at me, her pupils dark and fogged up with desire. Her tits are crushed against my chest, and I can feel her hard nipples on my skin.

  “Take off your jeans for me,” I order, my voice coming out harsher and more insistent than I intended.

  My cock is pulsing and throbbing almost painfully, now that it’s rubbing against Ali. What I want is so close and it only makes me want it more.

  Ali takes her hands off my arms and the next thing I know, she’s stroking me over my jeans, making me groan.

  “You’re going to have to get off me first,” she says softly, teasing me with her raspy voice.

  Reluctantly, I give her just enough space to wiggle out of her skinny jeans. The way her hips move is hypnotizing. It makes me want to part those thighs and plunge my cock deep inside her. I’m having very conflicting feelings for skinny jeans right now.

  When she’s completely naked, Ali looks up, straight into my eyes. This is a woman who’s comfortable in her own skin. Gone is the nervous, clueless virgin girl. Now, Ali knows exactly what I’m going to do to her, and she craves it.

  I love this new Ali. Yet the way she’s staring at me now makes me want to put her in her place, so I can have my way with her. I want to wipe that smile off her face
and replace it with an open mouth that’s screaming out my name. There’s nobody else on this floor, but I hope our neighbors upstairs and downstairs can hear her.

  “Get on your hands and knees,” I order as I unzip my jeans and pull out my hard cock.

  Ali’s gaze follows my hands. She watches with fascination as I grab my shaft and shuttle my fist up and down its length. The obvious lust in her eyes make me smile to myself. Still, she’s not listening to me.

  “Did you hear me?” I ask threateningly, making her gaze fly up to meet mine. Smirking, I say, “My eyes are up here.”

  Ali smiles and says, “But your cock is right there.”

  “You want it?”

  She nods, biting her lower lip as her gaze falls back onto my rock-hard cock.

  “Then get on your hands and knees like I told you to,” I say, in a low voice that should tell her I mean business.

  Ali tears her gaze off me and flips onto her stomach. Drawing her knees up on the leather, she shows me her curvy ass.

  Without giving her any warning, I give her a smack on her ass cheek. She cries out as I watch her flesh bounce. A dark print of my palm appears on her skin.

  “That’s for not doing what I told you to, right away,” I say. I gently rub her ass, knowing how sensitive it must be after that spank.

  Ali mewls as my fingers travel down to her pussy, which is soaking wet and almost dripping onto the couch.

  I spank her one more time. Smack!

  “And that’s because your ass is just begging to be spanked.” Her skin is hot and red where I spanked her, and she’s moaning as I rub her sensitive ass cheeks.

  I slide my hand down to her wet pussy as I take off my jeans. My cock is hard as stone and I want to bury myself inside her so bad, but that honey between her legs is calling out to me.

  With all our clothes lying on the rug, I part Ali’s cheeks and take her pussy into my mouth. She whimpers as I lick up her wet folds and tongue her opening. She tastes sweet and creamy. I circle her clit, but stop short of directly stimulating it.

  “Zeke…” Ali moans as I flatten my tongue against her pussy lips.