In Bed With the Billionaire

by Jackie Ashenden

  Promise me, Theo.

  “Yes,” Jericho said. “One more thing. I have to get to New York.”

  MacDonald frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I have a promise I need to keep.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Temple pulled over to the curb and killed the engine. Across the street stood a small white house with a big yard. A boy of what looked to be around five was in the yard along with a dark-haired man. The kid wore a fielder’s glove and was dancing around and leaping as the man threw him a baseball, which he missed, laughing and running after it, the man calling encouragement after him.

  Nervousness churned in Temple’s gut and she checked the address again. This was the number Theo had given as being Thalia’s house. Except what the hell the man and the kid were doing here, God only knew.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t head in straight a way. Waiting a bit longer might be better.

  Coward.

  Yeah, Jesus. Hadn’t this moment been the one she’d been dreaming of for seven years? The moment that had driven everything she’d done. The moment when she’d see Thalia again.

  She swallowed, staring out the window at the man and the boy in the yard. It might not be Thalia’s house, though. Maybe she’d moved on and someone else had moved in. There was a chance Theo’s information might be wrong, after all.

  Her fingers curled on the steering wheel. Fuck, okay, so sitting here and going over all the likely scenarios was stupid. She should get up and say hi to the man in the yard. Ask him if someone called Thalia lived here. Easy.

  She’d almost got herself to the point of loosening her grip on the steering wheel and opening the door, when suddenly a figure stepped through the front door of the house. A woman. She held a couple of beer bottles in her hands, going down the front steps and over to where the man stood, holding a bottle out to him.

  The rain had cleared an hour or so back, the setting sun throwing red and orange rays over the house and the yard. Picking up the bright copper gleam in the woman’s dark hair.

  Temple’s heart went still.

  Thalia.

  The man called something to the kid, turning to take the beer and smiling. Then he slid an arm around Thalia’s waist and brought her up close for a kiss.

  And the scene reset itself.

  The kid had red hair, virtually blazing like a bonfire. The same color as Temple’s. And she caught a glimpse of his face as he raced triumphantly over to Thalia, clutching the baseball. He looked like her. He looked like her sister.

  Thalia laughed and gave the boy a big hug.

  And Temple’s heart began to beat again, heavy and slow.

  Thalia had a son. And a husband. Thalia had a life.

  The scene through the window blurred. Fucking tears. Seven years and she hadn’t cried, not once. Now she couldn’t seem to turn the tears off.

  Thalia put down her son and leaned her head on the man’s shoulder, and they both watched as the little boy tossed the ball in the air, his hand outstretched to catch it.

  You can’t do this.

  Temple raised a hand, wiped at the tears on her cheeks, her plans shattering into a million tiny little jagged pieces. Because of course in all her imaginings of this moment, Thalia had been alone. Yet now she wasn’t, and that changed everything.

  Her sister had found something after the hell she’d been through with their father, after all the years of protecting Temple. She’d found a family of her own. She’d found some happiness. How could Temple disturb that? And she would disturb it. Coming back and bringing back with her all those memories, bringing back all that darkness.

  And what would she even say if Thalia asked her what she’d been doing? That she’d killed people for money? That she’d spent years in the world of sex trafficking trying to find out where Thalia had gone? That she’d spent the past couple of weeks with the man who’d bought her?

  Temple closed her eyes, a thick bubble of grief expanding in her chest.

  Thalia had been freed not long after she’d gone missing and yet she’d stayed missing. She hadn’t returned to her old neighborhood, and Temple knew because she’d hung around it even after she’d killed their father. Just in case. Just in case Thalia came back. Just in case Thalia tried to find her. But she hadn’t. And that only meant one thing.

  Thalia didn’t want to be found.

  And who could blame her?

  Tears dripped down Temple’s face and onto her hands that were clasped hard in her lap. Well, she sure as shit couldn’t. If she was Thalia, she’d have run and never looked back. Leaving the past behind her. Leaving all the horror.

  And who was Temple to bring it all back?

  She opened her eyes, staring at the figures of the family out in the yard.

  All she’d ever wanted to know was that her sister was alive and now she had that confirmation. And more than that, not only was her sister alive, but she was happy. She had a family. People who loved her. She had a place.

  And there was no room there for Temple. A hit woman who could kill a man with her bare hands. Who had blood on those same hands, so much blood. No, she couldn’t bring that blood into her sister’s house. There was no place for her there.

  She’d always had hope, that was all she’d ever had to hold onto. But now it felt like the last little piece of it was slipping inexorably out of her hands.

  Because it’s not only your sister you’ve been looking for. You’ve been looking for forgiveness too.

  Temple didn’t bother to wipe the tears away this time. Because she knew deep down it was true. She’d wanted to tell Thalia she was sorry. That she wasn’t worth the sacrifice Thalia had made to protect her. She never had been. How could she? How could anyone?

  But there would be no chance to apologize. And no chance of forgiveness. Not now.

  So she just sat in the car and watched Thalia and her family play in their yard. And when they went inside as the sun went down, she continued to sit there, watching until the moon rose and the stars came out.

  Only when the last light in the house went off, did she slowly start the car’s engine.

  And drove away.

  * * *

  “I have an update.” Zac stood in front of the fire in the meeting room of the Second Circle, his hands behind his back. “And I thought we needed to all be here for it.”

  “What kind of update?” Gabriel asked, dark eyes narrowing. He was sitting in his usual chair, Honor gathered on his lap. “This week’s been a fucking nightmare because of the Jericho bombshell, and I’ve got a shit load to do.”

  Well, Gabriel wasn’t the only one. The effects of the downfall of the trafficking ring and the discovery of previously respected members of the New York business community being a part of it were still resounding even a week later.

  Luckily, despite everyone in this room having close personal ties to Fitzgerald and the other perpetrators of the ring, none of their names had surfaced in the media. Mostly thanks to Eva and her expert doctoring of Fitzgerald’s files. Which was good since the last thing they all needed was their own experiences dragged through the world’s media.

  “I heard from a source that Jericho was taken into custody last week,” Zac said carefully. He was conscious of Eva sitting in her chair just to his right, her legs drawn up beneath her, sipping ginger tea out of a bone china cup, the little philistine. He’d been trying to get her to like actual tea but she kept refusing to even try it, which meant that one of these days he might have to use it as a punishment.

  Eva was silent at this news, mostly because she already knew it. Just like she knew what he was going to do about it. Which was precisely nothing.

  But it wasn’t only Eva’s use of the safe word that had changed his mind about Jericho, it was also the fact that she was right. This had to come to an end somewhere. All the violence and the revenge and the hurt. It had to stop. And so he was doing his part and letting it go. He didn’t like it, but he was doing it.

  “And you�
��re sure about this source?” Alex murmured from his place on the couch.

  Zac lifted an eyebrow. “Do you really need to ask me that question?”

  “Okay, sure. So he was taken into custody.” Alex gave him a look. “You still want to kill him? Because I guess that’s going to be a bit more difficult.”

  “But not impossible. I have contacts behind bars too.”

  “Of course you do,” Alex muttered.

  “Zac.” Eva’s voice was soft. A warning.

  He glanced at her, meeting her calm gray eyes. “A promise is a promise, angel. I’m not going to hurt him.”

  “Good.” She took another sip of her tea and glared at the rest of them over the rim of her cup. “And no one else is going to either, okay?”

  “Hey, I was on Violet’s side,” Gabriel said. “I never thought that was a good idea.”

  “Especially not seeing as he’s your half-brother,” Honor murmured.

  Gabriel blinked. “What the fuck?”

  “If Violet is your half-sister then logically Jericho is your half-brother,” Zac clarified, amused by the other man’s look of shock. “You both have the same father after all.”

  “Christ, did you never think of that?” Alex was obviously finding this amusing as well. “You’ve got a bigger family than you thought, brother.”

  “Holy shit,” Gabriel muttered.

  Honor patted his hands where they rested on her stomach. “Good job you didn’t kill him then, Gabe.”

  “What does this mean then?” Katya asked slowly. “If he’s in custody, then perhaps this whole … thing is over?”

  A silence fell in the room as the implications began to sink in.

  For two months, untangling the secrets and lies Fitzgerald had woven around their entire group had dominated every moment. But now that was coming to an end.

  Where did that leave them all?

  Zac didn’t need to look at Eva to know, but he did anyway, and found her looking back, a smile playing around her mouth.

  Oh, he knew all right. Yes, he knew.

  “I think it probably does, Katya mine.” Alex slid an arm around her waist, drawing her in close. “Now what the hell are we going to do with our lives? I don’t know about you guys, but I’m planning on going to Vegas. Maybe get smashed and lose a few hundred K on the tables. Then perhaps a quickie wedding at the Elvis chapel.”

  Katya scowled. “And who are you planning on getting married to?”

  He grinned. “A cocktail waitress maybe?”

  “Oh dear,” Honor sighed. “Don’t kill my brother, Katya. I’ve only just got him back.”

  Katya sniffed. “He is just lucky I like Elvis.”

  “Do we know what’s happening to Jericho?” Gabriel asked, staring at Zac and ignoring the banter. “I assume he’s being extradited back to the States?”

  Zac shifted on his feet. Although he’d found out that Jericho was alive, he hadn’t been able to get any other info, a failure that always annoyed him. “My source wasn’t able to pass on any further information, so no, I have no bloody idea.”

  Gabriel’s expression was impossible to read, though Zac knew him well enough by now to know what the other man was thinking. Jericho had been pointed out as being family, and now Gabriel would want to keep tabs on the guy.

  “Violet needs to know,” Honor said. “Especially now that—” She stopped suddenly.

  “Now that she’s what?” Zac stared at her.

  Violet and Elijah were making use of his island, though he hadn’t heard from either of them since they’d arrived there a week ago. He assumed they were okay, but … Had something happened to them?

  “Damn.” Honor looked rueful. “She didn’t want me to say anything.”

  “Anything about what?” Gabriel’s voice was a growl. “I’m her fucking brother.”

  “Half-brother,” Honor amended. “She’s pregnant.”

  “Oh,” Gabriel said. “And the father is—”

  “That prick Elijah, yes.” Honor finished, a smile playing around her mouth.

  There were smiles and a few exclamations, the atmosphere in the room lighter than it had been in months.

  It was good to see it. Made Zac realize just how far he had come, how far they all had come.

  “Then I think Violet should know as soon as possible, shouldn’t she?” Zac reached for his phone and headed toward the doorway, leaving the others to talk while he made the call.

  It wasn’t until he’d stepped into the hallway that his phone began to ring. He frowned, staring at the screen. The call was coming from a number he didn’t recognize, which was always a bad sign.

  “Rutherford,” he answered curtly.

  There was a slight pause and then someone said, “I don’t think I need to tell you who this is.”

  The voice was deep, rich. Male. He’d never heard it before. Nevertheless, he knew who it was. “Jericho.”

  “That name doesn’t belong to me anymore,” the man said. “Jericho is dead.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Straight to the point. I like it.”

  Zac leaned against the wall. “I was just about to call your sister. Tell her you were alive.”

  “Ah. And how did you know that?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Naturally. Will you also tell her you’d kept the contract out on my life?”

  He almost smiled. Damn. He would have enjoyed matching wits with this bastard. Pity he was behind bars. “Isn’t this a terrible waste of your phone call?”

  “You’re assuming I only have one.”

  Zac stilled, staring at the wall opposite. “I heard you were in custody.”

  “Oh yes, about that. I’m not. At least, not anymore.”

  Shock coursed through him, which was a novelty since nothing much shocked him these days. “You’re free?”

  “Not entirely. As free as I’ll ever be, I suppose. But you don’t need to worry. I won’t be bothering your little group of friends anymore.”

  “I suppose you’re not going to tell me how you worked that?”

  “No. That’s on a need-to-know basis and all that shit.”

  “Ah. Okay, then. So there was a reason for this call, I assume?”

  There was a brief silence. Then Jericho said, “I just need you to tell Violet I’m okay. That she doesn’t need to worry about Hunt. I’ve taken care of it. No one’s coming for him.”

  Curiosity and a certain amount of respect turned over inside Zac. “You cut a deal didn’t you?”

  “That’s between me and Hunt. Will you tell Violet what I said?”

  “Yes. Okay.”

  “There’s one more thing.” Another pause, longer this time. “I need to know where Temple is.”

  Zac concentrated on the other man’s voice. There was something in it, something that sounded like … yearning. And he recognized it because he’d felt exactly that same thing for so many years. “I’ve cancelled the contract, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I don’t care about the fucking contract.” A thread of emotion wound through that dark, rich voice. “I just want … I just need…” He stopped. “She probably thinks I’m dead, and I need her to know that I’m not. I need her to know I want to see her.” Emotion soaked through the words, and this time there was no mistaking it. It was yearning.

  “Okay,” Zac said, because he couldn’t, after all this, refuse. “I’ll tell her.”

  “Give her this number. Tell her she can call if she wants. And if she doesn’t … I understand.”

  “You don’t want her number?” Zac asked, curious.

  “No.” Another pause. “This choice has to be hers.”

  Approval shifted inside him, because a man who respected choice was a man who deserved respect in return. Still, the man was also a fucking criminal. “I’m not ever going to approve of your methods, Jericho,” Zac said. “And if you hurt Temple, I’ll—”

  “Temple doesn’t need your prote
ction, Rutherford,” Jericho interrupted, and the thread of emotion was gone, his voice cold. “She can look after herself. Besides, since when did you ever care about whether she was hurt or not?”

  Zac grimaced. That was a fair point. But he remembered the note of grief in Temple’s voice when he’d called her to cancel the contract. She’d felt something for this man. And Zac had suddenly been gripped by protectiveness because he knew what it was like to feel something for someone. And to lose them.

  “She was an employee of mine once,” he said, not prepared to confess anything beyond that. “And I look after what’s mine.”

  “Yeah, well, so do I.” Another pause. “Temple is mine. Understand?”

  Zac recognized that note too. Possession. Again, he approved. “Understood.”

  Jericho didn’t speak again, and there was a click as he ended the call abruptly.

  Zac lowered the phone slowly, debating. His gut told him that Jericho wouldn’t hurt Temple, at least not physically. But that wasn’t what Zac was concerned about. He knew about strong women who hid fragile souls, and Temple was one of those women.

  Yet, she’d asked him to find out if Jericho was still alive. So he would tell her. And not because that bastard had asked for it, but because Temple had.

  However, when he called her, there was no response so he had to leave a message. She could call him back if she wanted to know more. Like Jericho said, that was her choice.

  The next on his list was Violet, but he got no response from her, either. Leaving another message, he then put his phone back in the pocket of his jacket.

  Enough of this shit. He wanted to get back to Eva. He had something important to ask her.

  * * *

  Temple stood on the sidewalk and stared at the entrance to Eva’s building on the opposite side of the street. It was cold, and she was shivering a little, her hands stuffed into the pockets of the black leather jacket she wore.

  She still hadn’t recovered from the message Zac had left on her phone three days earlier. Every time she thought about it, her throat would go tight, and she couldn’t breathe, pain and joy in equal measure making everything inside her clench hard.