by Steve Richer
SUMMARY
Who frames you for murder when you have no enemies?
Billionaire playboy Lawson Winslow gets a bizarre text message as he walks into the annual family Christmas ball: “I’ll kill her for you.” He thinks it’s a prank but soon after the body of a woman is found upstairs.
Evidence puts Lawson at the scene of the crime. There’s a witness. And when the killer calls again, he wants Lawson to play a dangerous game of dares. If he doesn’t, incriminating phone records will be sent to the NYPD.
He’s ill-equipped to deal with this. He’s irresponsible, he’s never had to work a day in his life, but now he needs to prove his innocence and he doesn’t even know how.
After Lawson hires the disgraced but gorgeous federal agent Bailey Holloway to help him out of this mess, they will both need to navigate treacherous secrets before the blackmailer destroys his life and his family forever.
I’ll Kill Her for You
By Steve Richer
Copyright © 2016 Steve Richer
The cover art for this book makes use of licensed stock photography. All photography is for illustrative purposes only and all persons depicted are models.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Also by Steve Richer
The President Killed His Wife (Rogan Bricks 1)
Counterblow (Rogan Bricks 2)
Terror Bounty
The Kennedy Secret
The Gilded Treachery
Never Bloodless
The Atomic Eagle
Sigma Division
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Chapter 1
The phone buzzed and Lawson pulled it out of his pocket. It was a text message: Who do you want me to kill? I’ll kill her for you.
“What the hell?” he whispered at the message which came from an unknown number.
He texted back: Wrong number, pal.
This had to be some sort of joke, right? Yeah, it had to be. Somebody with a sick sense of humor was teasing him for some reason. He was thinking about this as he heard a chorus of voices directed at him.
“Lawson! Look over here, Lawson!”
“Over here, over here!”
Pretending to be annoyed, the young man turned toward the cameras. Lawson found that faking not to like being photographed made him seem adorable. He’d never told anyone but he actually enjoyed it.
“Give me a smile, look this way!”
With a deep sigh, he opened his trench coat slightly and gave a faint grin toward the first paparazzo. Then he turned thirty degrees and repeated the pose.
He waited a few seconds, flashes and clicks enveloping him, and finally turned another thirty degrees. A movie star friend had taught him the procedure. It was to ensure that all the photographers got what they needed, that they got all the angles.
Lawson was about to move on when he pursed his lips and squinted, giving the goofy model look known as Blue Steel from the Ben Stiller movie Zoolander. As expected, the dozen photographers got the joke and started laughing.
“All right, guys,” Lawson said as he waved. “Annoy somebody else now.”
He headed toward the elevators and he was impressed with what his mother had accomplished. This was one of the most prestigious residential buildings in New York City, a place that routinely turned down tenant applications from pop stars and famous politicians. And yet they had allowed her to take over the lobby with this glitzy parade.
Not only that, there were even backdrops with advertising from the sponsors. Dom Pérignon, Lexus, and of course the Winslow Care Foundation which was what the party was all about in the first place. Lawson really wondered how his mom had pulled it off. Even he thought it was tacky.
He rode up as he thought about the weird message from before. What kind of twisted individual found that this was funny? He had recently turned thirty, none of his friends were this juvenile. He eventually dismissed it all when the elevator doors opened.
There was a party in full swing at his parents’ triplex penthouse. There was live music, hundreds of guests chattering, and waiters roaming with trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne.
“Sir?” He found a young woman in a black and white uniform looking at him expectantly. “Your coat?”
“Sure.”
Lawson removed his coat and handed it to her while she gave him a ticket. It felt weird to check his coat in the home where he’d grown up.
“Oh good, just in time to save me!” He turned and spotted a raven-haired, clean-cut man coming toward him. He was holding a glass of champagne which was almost empty. “Fashionably late as usual.”
“I like to think of it as fashionable, period. How’s it going, man?”
John Tilley had been his best friend since college and he was happy to see him here. It would make this unfortunate event more bearable. They bro-hugged.
“You know, the usual, hobnobbing with the rich and famous,” John said dismissively.
“Right. Knowing you, you’re trolling for clients.”
“Hey, Lawson. It’s called having a business sense. I can’t help it, I’m a lawyer. It’s what I do.”
“You would’ve been one hell of an ambulance chaser.”
They laughed together and both snapped up a glass of champagne from a passing waitress. John was a corporate lawyer at one of the big Wall Street firms. There was no ambulance chasing in his job description, but he was on the fast track for a partnership and odds of getting it improved exponentially when you brought in new clients.
Nevertheless, he was a good guy. Lawson had met him at Harvard and they had become fast friends after a prank gone wrong which had landed them on academic probation for their second semester. The dean’s tomato garden had made a full recovery.
“So where is she?” John asked.
“Where is who?”
“Dude, you know what I’m talking about.”
“No, my psychic abilities haven’t kicked in yet,” Lawson replied, swallowing most of his champagne.
“Where’s your date? Don’t try to make me believe that you came here stag.”
At that, Lawson winced. “It was a tough call but I decided that no woman should ever be forced to suffer through one of my family’s parties.”
John squinted and shook his head. “Bullshit, I know you too well.”
“All right, I may have an angel waiting on the sidelines. But later, not here.”
“An angel?”
“Yeah, that’s her job description. She’s a Victoria’s Secret model.” John rolled his eyes as if he shouldn’t have been surprised. “She’s got a shoot at the Rockefeller Center tonight and I said I’d call after if I wasn’t in a foul mood.”
“Lawson, can we trade lives? Seriously, is there a voodoo spell, some sort of body swap we can do as if we’re in a Disney movie from the ‘80s? You know me, I’m not the jealous type, but a Victoria’s Secret model? Oh God…”
“Funny, that’s what she was screaming last night.”
They both started laughing and it was louder than the quiet chuckles around them which earned them a few odd looks. Lawson didn’t care.
In fact, he had stopped caring about what people thought of him years ago. By the time he was thirteen, he knew that he wasn’t like most people and as such, no matter how much effort he put into acting like ot
hers, it would never be enough.
He was an heir to the Winslow family fortune, after all. The company was one of the largest and most powerful on the planet, their wealth among the most impressive ever seen. Because of that, everywhere he went there was media attention. When it wasn’t paparazzi looking to make a quick buck, it was some social group or another protesting against the family’s interests.
In the beginning, Lawson hadn’t quite understood why people paid them so much attention. It wasn’t until he was older that he learned the family company was in every sphere of the world economy: banking, media, energy, agriculture, defense. Apparently, some people took offense.
Now he couldn’t care less. It wasn’t like he was involved with the company anyway. He was happy simply to be left alone and get his monthly checks. Since the fortune had been built over a hundred years ago, money had piled on exponentially and trusts were established for the heirs.
When he turned eighteen, Lawson received an allowance of $500,000 a year and it increased to a full million when he graduated university. There was a clause which would give him $10 million a year if he completed a graduate program so even though he had no intention of ever working for the family, Lawson got his MBA.
And now, only a few short weeks after turning thirty, Lawson had gotten a cool billion. It was all his and he could do anything he wanted with it. As a result, these days Lawson’s life philosophy was simple: take the money and stay away from the family business. He’d had one serious girlfriend before, Kelsey, but she had left him. That was fine, he decided. Living without having to care for anyone or anything was glorious.
He drained his champagne, grabbed another glass, and spent a few more moments with John catching up with him. They didn’t see each other as much as they used to since Lawson lived mostly in Los Angeles now but it was great anyway, just like old times.
“Oh shit.”
“What?” John said, his eyes scanning the crowd frantically.
“Bogey, two o’clock.”
It wasn’t really a bogey and it wasn’t at two o’clock either – it was just a remnant from when they used to riff off Top Gun at Harvard. No, the person coming toward them was probably the man Lawson wanted to see the least tonight. It was his brother, Noel.
“Well look who decided to show up! Late, of course.”
“Hello, Noel. I can see you’re as pleasant as usual.”
The older sibling lifted his head haughtily as if he was a pufferfish about to attack. This was par for the course, Lawson knew. His brother never took affront well.
“You’ll make this visit brief, I hope, Lawson.”
“Obviously, I’m only here for the free crab cakes and to ruin your birthday party.”
It wasn’t his birthday yet – he’d been born on Christmas Day, hence the name – but their mother always combined the annual foundation fundraiser with Noel’s birthday party.
“Have you thought ahead of time how you’ll embarrass the family tonight, Lawson? Singing with the band? Drinking yourself under the table in front of everyone?”
“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed, brother.”
“When are you going to learn that you’re not welcome here?”
Lawson blinked though he wasn’t surprised. He knew he was the black sheep in the family, two steps away from being a full-blown embarrassment. Noel was the most vocal in the family about this. Then again, it was hard to compare to him.
At thirty-two, he was a senior vice president at the company and he’d gotten there on merit too, not just because of his name. So anyone who wasn’t little Mr. Perfect like him was inadequate.
“Save it, okay? I came here to be polite, for that family unity bullshit you guys love so much.” His phone buzzed and he’d never been so happy to be interrupted. “If you will please excuse me, probably somebody else needs to be embarrassed.”
Lawson stepped away from John and his brother as he produced his phone. It was another text message.
Good choice, I’ll kill her for you.
Chapter 2
The message came from the same unknown user as before. What was this shit? Fuming, Lawson wrote back a message.
Stop texting me. I don’t know you, don’t know what you’re talking about. You have the wrong guy.
Jesus Christ, what a sick bastard! His idea of pranks ten, fifteen years ago had been to spray paint vegetables or arrange them in an R-rated pattern, it had never been about death threats or whatever the hell this was. He wasn’t much of a pearl clutcher but this morbid sense of humor was anything but funny.
He hoped his message would put a stop to this joker but on the other hand he didn’t know much about technology. Since the user was unknown, he didn’t even know if he would even receive his reply.
He was about to walk back to John who was politely conversing with Noel when the phone rang. It wasn’t just the buzzing of a text message, this time it was a call.
Lawson froze. What if it was the guy again wanting to talk for real? It made him angry at first but then realized it would be for the best. He could tell him to take his phone and shove it deep up his ass.
Warming up to the idea, he glanced at the screen. It was the office.
“Hey, Midori! You’ll never believe how happy I am to speak to you right now.”
“We have a problem,” she said.
“That’s your go-to greeting, isn’t it?”
“This is serious, Lawson. We have a big goddamn problem. Financing is coming apart.”
“Lawson!” a man exclaimed as he headed toward him. “How are you, buddy?”
“I’ll call you right back,” Lawson spoke into the phone before hanging up and turning to the newcomer. “Hey Fred. Long time no see.”
Fred Keeling was one of those people your parents unleash on you and you’re stuck with them until the day you die.
They had grown up together, forced into the same social circles by virtue of birth, enrolled into Harvard concurrently, but they had never been friends even though Fred swore they were. Lawson knew what a real friend was because of John, and Fred was nothing more than an acquaintance.
“So good to see you! What brings you to New York? You’ve had enough of the West Coast sunshine?”
They shook hands and Lawson wondered if it would be bad form to walk away instantly. He considered doing it but balked at giving his brother more ammunition against him.
“Oh you know, just being supportive of the family foundation. Speaking of which, I hope you prepared a generous check.”
“I did, I did. Probably not as huge as yours though, I’m a pauper next to you.”
“Spare me the horseshit, Fred. You hedge fund guys have the rest of us over a barrel.”
Fred rolled his eyes with false modesty. Lawson knew that he was making as much money annually as he was. The difference was that Fred’s family fortune was only in the neighborhood of $100 million and that was a huge chip on his shoulder. That was why he was in a hurry to level up to billionaire’s row, and if the rumors were to be believed, he wasn’t above using any of Wall Street’s dirty tricks to get there.
Still, that was typical behavior. Lawson had been around wealthy people enough to know that. In some way, that was why he had chosen not to follow down this path.
“How’s the movie business?” Fred asked. “Are you going to finally produce something people will see?”
“It’s doing great. As a matter of fact, I have a deal in the works right now that I have to get back to. It was nice seeing you again.”
“Sure, sure.”
Lawson walked away from him and called California. His assistant – more of a business partner, really – answered on the first ring.
“Midori, me again. What’s going on?”
“We have a problem,” she said, her voice hard as steel.
“You said that already. You want to elaborate?”
“The Saudis are backing out. I just got off the phone with their lawyer.”
&nb
sp; “Is there a reason why? We had this locked down. With this financing we were getting distribution at Warner, it’s a done deal. Why are they backing out? We start shooting in two weeks, for chrissakes.”
“I don’t know, Lawson. It was more like an announcement, not a conversation.”
“And just before Christmas?” he practically shouted into the phone, drawing stares. “Oh I know what’s going on. They’re trying to negotiate. They want to squeeze an extra ten percent out of me. Those magnificent fuckers, I have to hand it to them.”
For most of his life, Lawson had been carefree and had done everything in his power to remain so. But as pressure for him to do something with his life mounted, he’d exiled himself to LA and decided to become a movie producer.
In reality, he didn’t really have a passion for cinema. Aside from the odd summer blockbuster, he didn’t watch many movies either. Yet, being a producer with a genuine office and business card was the perfect hunting license to sleep with models and movie stars.
He got invited to the best parties, managed to hang out with some of the most famous people on earth. It gave him access to the most exclusive venues in the world and as a result women were essentially throwing themselves at him.
The lifestyle was perfect for him. He had Midori running the office along with a receptionist, he threw half a million dollars a year into the company to buy some scripts and appear legit, and in return he got to have fun without doing any work.
Hell, he had even started making a profit in the last two years by matching some of the scripts he’d bought with some movie stars he was acquainted with and selling the package wholesale to studios.
He had to admit that it was rewarding. It astounded him too. He had always considered himself above being a businessman. But it was sort of thrilling to know that he had made a deal that people appreciated.
So he had pushed on, putting together a few more packages like the first one. Six months ago, he had read one of the screenplays his company had bought and had found it good enough that he wanted to try his hand at actually producing it. Granted, he wouldn’t be hands-on because he had no idea how to do it, but he wanted to carry this project to term.