Plain Jane and the Billionaire (Plain Jane Series)

by Tmonique Stephens

  “Move!” Scotts ordered from a defensive position inside the elevator, his gun firing methodically.

  Angrily, she knocked Julius’ hands away.

  A yelp, a scream, a shouted curse, derailed her telling him to keep his fucking hands to himself. Calista lurched to a crouch, forced Julius in front of her and shoved him toward the stairs. Security office. She had to get to the weapons cache. No footsteps and the silence behind them meant two things: the gunmen were in the elevator and Scotts was dead—her heart fisted—Or there was another way to the upper deck.

  Shit! Why didn’t she take a full tour? Fuck! Even if she had, her thoughts were too scattered to remember the layout. Now she regretted seeing the rear of the two hitmen. They would’ve come in handy right about now.

  Calista rounded a curve on the stairs—and into the crosshairs of a semi-automatic. Thank God, it was Sunny. Crouched on the stairs, he glanced behind them and let the nozzle dip.

  “Found them,” he murmured.

  That’s when she remembered the Bluetooth and the radio in her pocket. The Bluetooth went back in her ear, the radio she flipped on.

  “I was in the security office with Edwards after Scotts left to see what was up with you. I saw the bastards approach us.” Sunny’s face was a case study in controlled fury. He rose from his crouched position and that’s when she saw the second rifle slung across his body. He came down the stairs carefully, his gaze trained behind them as he handed over the spare.

  She passed Julius her Sig plus an extra clip, and handled the semi-automatic. “What about Scotts?” she asked.

  “Don’t know.” Sunny’s clipped voice didn’t give away his concern, but it was there in the depth of his eyes. Gunfire sounded above them. “The secondary staircase. They must’ve found it and met Edwards,” Sunny spat.

  “They’re above us,” she stated, assessing their situation and determining a strategy.

  “Yes!” Julius whispered furiously. “On the same floor with Joshua and Erica.”

  Julius started up the stairs, but Calista held him back and pressed her Bluetooth. “Edwards. Is the guest level clear?”

  “Thank you for turning on your fucking radio!” he hissed, and she didn’t blame him. “That level’s clear.” The sound of gunfire echoed through the Bluetooth and the hull, then the Bluetooth went quiet.

  A silent prayer for Edwards to be okay, then the three of them headed to the next level where the guest suites were located. Joshua’s room was stern with access to an outdoor lounge, while Erica’s room was forward with a small balcony. The bodies of two crewmen lay midway in the hallway. One in front of Joshua’s open cabin door.

  “I was wrong. So, fucking wrong,” Julius mumbled, clearly in shock. “I thought this was about Harden. This is about me. Who did I piss off this much to want me dead?”

  There was only one person Calista could think of but now wasn’t the time. “Sunny. Check the forward cabin for Erica Bryn. If they’re topside, we’re going down to one of the boats and getting the hell off the Titanic.” Sunny took off down the hallway, following orders.

  “If you think I’m leaving Joshua—” Julius headed for the stairs.

  She knew he was going to say that, though she had to try. “Not leave him but get you to safety. Then go back for him.” She wasn’t lying. She had every intention of getting Julius of the yacht and going back for Joshua. So much for not being his bodyguard. After the first bullet, she was all in, bodyguard mode in full effect.

  “Erica Bryn’s gone.” Sunny came sprinting down the hallway. “No sign of a struggle.”

  Damn it! She could be anywhere or she could be dead. The last thing she wanted was to find her body.

  Her Bluetooth crackled to life and Edwards’ whispered words came through. “Security room and bridge are locked and secured. Boat’s returning to dock. Authorities are on the way.”

  Calista looked up at the camera in the center of the hallway. “How many and where are they now?”

  “Two were killed by the tender. But one more boarded when you got Julius out of there. Scotts injured and in the elevator.”

  He’s alive and that’s all that counted. “Where’s he hit?”

  “Thigh. Don’t know how bad. He can’t walk but he’s not out of the game. He’ll kill anything that comes his way.”

  Scotts would go down fighting, as would they all. “Where are they now?”

  “Top deck with Joshua. And Erica Bryn. She was at the main bar, by the pool. They hunted her down, her and Joshua. I heard them talking. The fools.”

  Calista quickly relayed the info to Julius. “Lynda,” Julius growled, and followed with a vicious, “Fuck! It had to be her at the club. Her in Vegas.” His lips peeled back in a snarl. “I was stupid and blind. It was never about Harden. It was always me.”

  She squeezed his arm to keep him focused. “Lynda showed up an hour ago on the dock demanding Joshua leave with her. He chose not to. He chose to stay because you gave him a place to stay.” The snarl left his lips replaced by grim determination. “Let’s get your brother and my—Miss Bryn back. Alive.”

  Muscle flexing in his jaw, Julius nodded once. That’s when she heard the helicopter. Rescue? She hoped.

  Julius halted, his head cocked to the side, listening. “That’s not Meckler and Newsome. They’re stuck in transit.”

  They had to get moving and moving now. “Edwards, the helicopter isn’t friendly.”

  “No shit,” echoed in her ear.

  “We’re heading your way. Security office is the best place to be. We can hunker down and defend the bridge until we dock.”

  “Hurry because I can’t wait. I have to even the playing field before it’s too late,” he said.

  Shit! She couldn’t be mad when she’d do the same thing.

  “You’re on the starboard, right side of the boat.” Edwards came through again.

  Silently she thanked him for saying right side.

  “Port side is clear all the way up to the bridge. Starboard has one man guarding it. They know where you are.” The sound of a helicopter got louder. “Gotta go and wreak havoc.” The Bluetooth went quiet. Edwards was gone.

  Calista checked her ammo. Julius and Sunny did the same. She had a full clip and Sunny handed her another one. “We can’t let Joshua and Erica get on that chopper.”

  “Lynda won’t hurt Joshua. She didn’t go through all this trouble to kill him,” Julius said.

  “Too bad she didn’t factor in a stray bullet.” Calista shook her head at Lynda’s selfish, obsessive stupidity. “You can’t say the same for Erica. Who knows what she has planned for her?” Calista had no idea what Edwards had planned, but it had better be good.

  “We need to back him up. Sunny, port staircase. Wait for Edwards’ signal.” Sunny took off.

  “What’s Edwards’ signal?” Julius demanded.

  “Don’t know, but it won’t be silent. When gunfire erupts, stay here.” She ordered Julius.

  “No. Fucking. Way.” Teeth bared, he growled.

  She knew that would be his answer. “Protect my rear.”

  “My pleasure.” Was that a sultry edge to his voice, or her imagination? Either way, it was out of place in the current situation and unwanted. Do not get flirty after kissing my sister! Just don’t. The thought made her nauseous. Poised to tell him exactly that, between one blink and the next, the rat-tat-tat of automatic weapons filled the air.

  Calista stormed up the stairs, counting on the distraction to keep her from getting her head blown off. She got lucky. The gunman with his AK47 faced the opposite direction. He fired across the boat at Edwards or Sunny. Two bullets between the shoulder blades ended the threat. She stepped over the body and into a wind tunnel as Julius upgraded his weapon and snatched the AK-47 off the deck.

  Gunfire came from the front of the yacht, some of it directed at a hovering helicopter. In the distance another helicopter approached. Friendly? Or Foe? They had no cover, but neither did the gunmen. A three-
pronged attack, her, Edwards, and Sunny. She rushed forward.

  A quick dart down the length of the boat brought them to a short staircase leading to the bridge deck. They burst into a corridor between the security office and the bridge. Shell casings littered the floor. Both doors were locked and pockmarked with dents. “Bulletproof, huh?”

  “You don’t buy a sixty-million-dollar boat and skimp on the details,” Julius said darkly.

  The door opened and the captain appeared in the entrance. “Mr. Morgan. Thank God, you’re alive. Come in! Come in! The police are on their way.” He ushered Julius inside. Calista closed the door behind him and headed for the helipad.

  She paused where the wall curved and the open deck in front of the helipad began. Two men, crouched low, weapons pointed outward, guarded the helipad. Two more held Joshua and Erica captive. Erica on her knees, her hair fisted, body torqued at a vicious angle. She’d changed into a red bikini and a pair of sandals. No wonder she was at the pool. Joshua was also on his knees with a 9mm pressed to his temple. The helicopter lowered, closer to landing.

  Where was Edwards and his distraction? The time to act was now. She couldn’t wait any longer, but what to do without putting Joshua and Erica in jeopardy? Familiar footsteps behind her piqued her anger. She wanted him to wait in the bridge where it was safe. Not play weekend Rambo.

  She was about to tell him just that when gunfire had Calista ducking. Took a second for her to realize bullets weren’t ventilating their bodies and the bullets were coming from overhead… and directed at the helicopter.

  Specifically, the tail of the helicopter.

  It had to be Edwards, on top of the bridge, by the antenna. That was his distraction. And it was fucking working. They were shooting at him.

  And she started shooting at them. The two in the front were shredded. The others holding Joshua and Erica used them as shields, which worked until the helicopter went tilt-a-whirl and started smoking from the tail rotor.

  Everyone ducked as it dipped dangerously close to the deck, righted itself until a bullet hit the engine. The helicopter veered away, losing altitude. It crashed into the ocean. No explosion, but fragments peppered the boat. Joshua had enough sense or idiocy to lunge to his feet in the midst of a gunfight and helicopter crash, and slam his knee into the face of the gunman holding him and run. A perfect shot to the throat and the gunman crumpled. Thank you Sunny or Edward. Calista covered Joshua as he ran to the other side of the boat, hopefully to Sunny.

  Erica stayed put, like one of those fainting goats that freeze and tip over when frightened. Tipping over would’ve helped. Tipping over onto the deck would’ve been better than allowing the gunman to drag her backward over the fucking boat.

  She can swim. Calista knew this just like she knew about the pony at Erica’s birthday party and the broken arm she got skiing in Aspen when she was ten. Calista had been low-key stalking Erica Bryn her entire life, secretly jealous over the life she didn’t have. Calista didn’t know if she ever took swimming lessons. But she did know about the snorkeling in the Cayman Islands and the deep-sea diving in Micronesia. Erica knew how to swim.

  If she hadn’t hit her head, and if the boat wasn’t still moving, and if helicopter debris hadn’t been in the way, Erica would’ve been fine. Just fine was Calista’s panicked thoughts as she gripped the railing, searching the water for her sister. She spotted the red bikini and blond hair sinking fast.

  Calista dropped the gun, stripped off her jacket, and what? She didn’t know how to swim. Jumping into the water would make her another body to rescue. But she couldn’t let Erica die. She wouldn’t. Enough people had died today. She wouldn’t lose another one.

  Julius sailed over the railing. Calista watched him dive into the river after Erica.

  “Stop the boat. Stop the damn boat,” Sunny shouted and joined her at the railing. Seconds ticked by and no one came up. No one as the boat sailed past the point where Julius entered the river.

  Oh God! Please, no! Just no!

  “Stop the boat!” she screamed and took off for the tender as a police helicopter circled overhead. It took too long, way too long to get to the bottom of the boat where the tender was located. It took forever, for-fucking-ever for the yacht to stop and for her and Sunny to figure out how to launch the tender. By the time they did, other boats on the waterway pulled them out of the water.

  From a distance she watched Julius give Erica CPR, watched her sister lean to the side and vomit water from her lungs. Watched Erica hug Julius, hold on, cling. They clung to each other as the authorities swarmed the area.

  It was over. She’d done her job, saved the client and his brother, earned her last paycheck. Whatever the hell this was between Julius, Joshua, and Lynda, Julius and her, it was over. And so was she.

  Chapter 43

  The boat docked and police offloaded everyone for interviews. They all had a story to tell. She had no idea what Julius and Joshua would say about Lynda’s involvement. Calista took a guess they’d want to deal with it on their own, in their own way. Discreetly, though she couldn’t see Joshua involved in his mother’s murder, because that’s what it would come down to. Maybe Julius wouldn’t do it. Harden would have no compunction, no hesitation once he discovered it was Lynda who took out a contract on Julius and put him in the crosshairs too.

  Calista hadn’t seen Lynda’s involvement in planning her son’s or her stepson’s murder. Takes a special woman to plan her child’s murder over a few dollars, even if those dollars totaled billions. Some people shouldn’t breed.

  Ten hours later, after walking the authorities through the crime scene, and handing over her bloody clothes in exchange for a paper jumpsuit, she was allowed to leave the dock with her passport, ID, and credits cards. She took that as permission to leave the country and headed for the airport after checking on Scotts. He was lucky. The bullet went clean through missing the bone and major blood vessels.

  She stopped at a clothing store for something presentable, her phone ringing nonstop from the moment she left the dock. She texted Laverne letting her know she was alive and unharmed. Everything else, phone calls and texts, she ignored. She didn’t need to look at the screen to know who was blowing up her phone.

  A first-class ticket purchased with the JMI corporate credit card got her on a plane to Orlando, FL with a three-hour layover to LaGuardia, NYC. In a moment of weakness, she gave in and glanced at her phone. His messages started off full of concern and ended with demands. Demands. Before boarding she was kind enough to put him out of his misery and send a message to her former employer. Three words.

  Go fuck yourself.

  Good enough for her official resignation letter. Eloquent. Simple and to the point. The message conveyed her heartfelt emotions and wished him well in the same breath.

  Then she turned off her phone, per flight regulations. Wouldn’t want the FAA placing her on the No Fly List.

  Fifteen messages waited for her when she landed in Florida. With nothing left to say, she deleted them all. A message to Laverne to let her know she was coming home. Laverne didn’t ask why, just offered to pick her up from the airport. Calista declined, more in the mood to skin something alive than have company, especially after keeping it together for the eighteen-hour journey back home.

  She wanted to strip out of her clothes, boil her skin, then sleep for a year. Make that a day. She had to check on her mother and debate what to tell her about Harvey. Would her mother even understand he was gone? This time permanently. And if she was lucid enough to understand, should Calista break her heart?

  And after all that awesomeness, she had to start job hunting.

  Not a long to-do list, but long enough to exhaust her. One mountain at a time. She climbed out of the cab with the list on her mind and little else. A Mercedes S 560 idled two doors down from her house. The same car she drove Julius to the doctor in.

  Her stomach dropped. She didn’t want a confrontation. That’s why she left. She did her job and lef
t. The client was safe, and she left.

  So why the hell was Julius Morgan climbing out of his car and heading her way. He looked good in a pair of jeans and a black tee that displayed the hard work he put in to regain his health and sculpt his body. She absorbed every detail because it would be the last time she ever saw him.

  Calista opened her door but didn’t go inside. Whatever he’d come all this way to say would happen on her front steps, not in her house. The ignored phone calls and text messages should’ve been a hint. It’s over. Done. Period. The end. Most would be happy to have their ex-lover slink away, never to be heard from again. A clean surgical break. No blood. No body parts.

  “Why did you leave without a single word,” he shouted, approaching fast.

  Because she had more than a single word to say to him. Much more. And none of it mattered. “I had nothing to say. I did my job. You know who has targeted you. Lynda’s going to be arrested. Or not. I don’t know. It’s not my problem anymore. I’ve done my job, put my life on the line and now I’m done. Goodbye, Julius.” She summed up as he halted inches away from her.

  “You left because of Erica.”

  Deny or admit it? Which one did she have enough energy for? None, she decided and spun to enter the house, only to be hauled back by a hand on her arms.

  Voice strained, fingers tightening on her arms, his front pressed to her back, he whispered furiously, “It’s not what you think!”

  She pried his hands off her body and faced him. Oh, he was pissed. His gaze burned into her. “I didn’t know you could read minds?”

  “Not minds. Yours. You saw me holding her. You saw her kiss me. You left before I could explain, then all hell broke loose and we were fighting for our lives.”

  “True enough.” Though she called bullshit on the “she kissed me” part. Erica did not have a gun to his head while forcing him to submit to her lips!

  Deep breath.

  But none of that mattered because she was done. “Who kissed who, I really don’t care. I sent you my resignation—”