Ruthless (Fractured Farrells: A Damaged Billionaire Series Book 1)
Page 2
In addition to screwing up his breakfast plans, now he’d spooked Jean. Getting her to listen to the proposal he had for her wouldn’t be easy now, but he’d never planned to approach her at her job anyway. This conversation needed to be somewhere private and uninterrupted. Somewhere she couldn’t get freaked out and run to that mountain of a cook to kick him out.
Not that the formidable army vet could make him move anywhere, but Colin knew that if he knocked out her friend, that would ruin any chance he had of getting her to listen to him.
And this entire plan hinged on Jean doing exactly what he wanted her to do. Which was easier said than done. Based on his experience with Farrells, they never did what they were told. Even if she wasn’t raised with her brothers or father, he had a feeling Jean wouldn’t make things any easier on him.
As the men drove off and Colin determined they weren’t an immediate threat, he hopped back into the driver’s seat of the shiny new rental pickup truck and grabbed his file on Jean. He’d read it at least a dozen times before, but now that he’d seen her in person, he wanted to scan through the pages again.
Jean Hill was born January 3, 1986, which made her younger than all four of her brothers from the Farrell side of the family. Walter had mentioned that he’d met her mother when she was working in Vegas as a bartender during one of the worse moments of his third marriage. Though, from what Colin picked up on, every moment of Walter’s marriages was bad. Mainly from him doing stupid shit like sleeping with bartenders in Vegas.
After getting pregnant, Jean’s mother, Katherine, moved back home to Arkansas, probably to get family to help raise Jean. Except she burned through the payout Walter gave her to keep quiet in record time, and after a series of fights, Katherine was kicked out and Jean was raised by her grandmother until she died ten years ago, leaving Jean back with her deadbeat mother.
Between the shitty school system in Katherine’s hometown and the empty bank accounts of everyone involved, Jean never stood much chance of getting anywhere. So she’d bounced around the small town of Winslow, Arkansas ever since graduating from high school. Worked as a waitress at a few places and even as a receptionist/bookkeeper at a smaller manufacturing company one town over. But when that went out of business, she was right back to waitressing. She’d inherited her grandmother’s trailer that, although being kept up well over the years, was still in need of repairs.
Really, her situation was perfect for him. She was stuck in a hard place and he was going to be her answer. He was going to offer her a solution to all her problems and give her the life of her dreams. She’d be so swept away by this windfall of good luck that she’d never realize he was stealing five hundred million dollars from her.
Jean dropped her purse on the couch and rubbed her tired eyes. It was only two p.m., but already her bed was calling to her. The result of waking up at three in the morning to get to work. The added stress of waiting on pins and needles for an angry call from her boss about the Dickie incident hadn’t helped.
But so far there had been no word. She hoped that meant Dickie’s injured pride had kept him from squealing about what happened to his hand. Not that it was her fault. That stranger was built like a tank. Even if she wanted to stop him, there was nothing she could’ve done. Though, from the angry words Dickie had shouted at her once Stranger left, he put the blame squarely on her shoulders. Asshole.
She hoped his hand hurt like a bitch and he missed work over this. Of course, if he missed work that would give him more time to show up during her shifts and cause trouble.
That bed sounded better and better by the moment. Falling into unconsciousness for a few hours where she wouldn’t have to think of any of her problems. But she needed to get her electric bill paid now that she had enough tips deposited into the bank to cover it and clean up the coffee machine so it would be ready to go when she woke up again. Really, only fifteen minutes until she could sleep. That was doable, even if it did seem way too long for some reason.
Jean pulled out her checkbook to write out the payment for the power. Hopefully she should be safe in the time it took the power company to get the check. She was only three days late this time, so really she should be in the safe zone, but she never knew whether the guy in charge of shutting off the lights was in a bad mood.
But no electricity meant no coffee, and that was a life she didn’t want to think about. The walk to the trailer park’s mailbox could be a pain, but considering the weather was a nice seventy degrees with a cool breeze running through the trees that surrounded the park, she decided to walk it.
She waved at a few of the younger kids out playing as she walked to the front of the park. The older kids should be getting home from school any minute and the park would get much louder, but Jean didn’t mind. She could sleep through anything, and she had so many memories of running around this park.
Most of the kids she’d played with back then had moved on. Either they’d gotten jobs out of state or had babies much too young and started up families of their own. She was supposed to be at that spot now. Married and with a husband with a good job. Maybe even a child or two of her own.
But things just hadn’t panned out the way they were supposed to. She figured she should be happy she hadn’t ended up a single mom like her own mother, but it was hard not to feel lonely. The only family she had only came by when she needed something.
That was half the reason she wanted her own family so bad. So she could correct the mistakes her own mother had made. So she could do it better. Who knew what would’ve happened if Grandma hadn’t stepped up?
Jean dropped the bill in the mailbox and headed back to her trailer. Trailer parks had a bad reputation, and, to be fair, there were a lot of residents in the park who completely lived up to their reputation. But Grandmother had treated their home with the love and respect it deserved, and Jean did her best to keep it up to her standards. The outside was a powder blue that she’d repainted about two years ago, so it still looked fresh and clean.
The windowsills were detailed with planters with some pink annuals that her grandmother favored. Jean had considered switching out the flowers a few times, but switching to something her grandmother might not have approved of seemed too painful.
The door was a bright white, and Jean had switched out the dated, old gold knobs for brushed silver ones to add a touch of modern to it. It also helped that it had allowed her to change the locks after Mark broke it off with her. She hadn’t expected him to break in or anything—he was far too...respectable for that—but it made her feel better to literally lock the door on that part of her life.
Except the peace outside of her home was broken when a pickup she didn’t recognize drove in front and parked. Her heart sunk as the stranger from earlier that morning stepped out and immediately met her eyes.
The sun shone brightly down on him, highlighting the planes and shadows in his face and accentuating his strong cheekbones. Not to mention showing off the muscles hidden by the soft fabric of his shirt. She’d noticed them at the diner—she’d have to be blind not to—but seeing them like this was overwhelming all over again.
But as pretty as he was, she didn’t like strange men showing up at her home. Especially not a strange man who’d assaulted a customer right in front of her eyes a few hours ago.
Jean tensed and wished he wasn’t standing between her and her trailer. Especially considering her handy shotgun was kept loaded and ready to go right next to the door. Girl living alone had to be prepared. She was caught unprepared and cursed herself for it.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she approached.
Stranger walked around until he leaned against the passenger door to his truck and crossed his arms over his chest. “Lookin’ for you. Figured that would be obvious by where I parked.”
Great. A violent smart ass at her front door. Just what this day needed. “And I thought the annoyed expression on my face would make it obvious that you’re not wanted here.”
Unease raced down her spine as she remembered that she’d only gotten home a few minutes ago. Either him getting to her place right now was one hell of a coincidence or he’d been following her. “How did you know I’d be here? Where did you even get my address?”
“I searched you out after I saw this.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
Jean stared warily at his outstretched hand, not sure how close she wanted to get. It was broad daylight and there were plenty of people around, but even so, something held her back. Based off what she’d seen this morning, this wasn’t the kind of guy who let a little thing like witnesses stop him from doing anything.
Stranger must’ve picked up on her wariness. “I won’t bite. Promise.”
Jean didn’t believe him for a minute, but she forced herself to move forward just far enough to snatch the paper from his hand. She turned it over and studied it. He’d handed her a printout of an Internet article about Striker’s Truck Stop. The photo with the write-up showed Striker himself and all the waitresses, smiling as if they enjoyed their jobs. To be fair, some of them did. She was just more negative than most.
Jean looked back up at Stranger. “So you’re pissed about not getting your meat lover’s omelet? Because I don’t think you’re allowed to come back there any time soon.”
The corner of his mouth hooked up. “Yeah. That was probably a mistake.”
“Breaking a guy’s hand is normally a mistake.”
“He deserved it.”
“And it’s your job to give people what they deserve?”
“Only when it’s fun. And, trust me, Jean, that was fun.”
Jean took a nervous gulp as she fought the urge to step back. “But none of this tells me what you’re doing here. Are you worried about me talking to the cops? Because I’m going to tell them what I saw, no more and no less, okay?”
“I’m sure I’ll be long gone before that jackass gets the balls to report me.”
“So you saw an article I was in the background of and came all the way out here to my home in order to...what?”
“Have you ever heard of Walter Farrell?”
“Umm...he’s some rich dude, right? The one who just died?”
“Yep. Made billons in real estate and left his entire fortune to his family.”
She stared at him blankly, trying really hard to follow but she had no idea where he was going with this. “Must be nice to be his family.”
“That’s what I’m here about. Here’s a picture of his family.” He pulled another piece of paper out of his back pocket.
Jean took the picture from him easier this time, less convinced he was about to pounce at any minute. She still believed he was more than dangerous, but if he’d wanted to hurt her, he’d had more than one chance already.
The picture was of five men, one older and the rest younger. They looked to all be related. The older one had white hair, but his distinctive cheekbones and blue eyes matched the four men standing around him. She was willing to bet that the older one, Walter Farrell probably, had dark hair like the other guys when he was younger.
“Okay, I’m starting to get annoyed by this. What’s your point?”
“My point is to look at the guys in that picture compared to you.”
Jean held one picture in each hand to look at herself and the crazy rich guys in the other picture. “Well, I’m looking. Now what?”
“You don’t see the resemblance?”
Jean snorted at the idea, but her smile slowly faded as she studied the pictures again. Now that he mentioned it, there was a bit of the resemblance. More than the dark, verging on black, hair and blue eyes. Something in the bone structures and smiles too... “So I look like a dead billionaire and his sons?”
“The point is that Walter Farrell had a daughter no one knew about. A daughter about your age.”
Jean’s smile got wider as she set the photos down, finally realizing what he was getting at. “You’re kidding. I know I didn’t have a present father but, trust me, if my mother had boned a billionaire, she would’ve milked that for all it was worth.”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re the real deal. The point is that you’re the spitting image of him and his family is looking for the lost heiress.”
Jean rolled her eyes. “Aren’t there little things like DNA tests that need to be taken for these things? Those aren’t exactly easy to fake.”
“No, but it’s easy to bribe the scientists who perform them. I have everything worked out to get this inheritance. All I need is a girl who’s the right age and fits the description.”
Jean crossed her arms as she looked at the handsome, violent, and now confirmed crazy man in front of her. “And what exactly makes you qualified to pull this off over one of the richest people in America? They don’t exactly like to have their money messed with.”
“I worked with Walter Farrell for over ten years. I’m the most qualified person in the world to pull one over on this family. Come back to the city with me, take a few tests that I’m fixing in your favor and then you’ll be set for life.”
She nodded skeptically. “Are you sure you’re not a Nigerian prince? You found a long-lost relative who left me a few million bucks and, for a low fee, you can wire me the money? Yeah, I don’t think so. Take your scams somewhere else, Stranger.”
She started past him toward her trailer and then watched him, looking for any sudden movement. All he had to do was make the slightest move toward her and she’d bolt to her front door. Except he stayed where he was as his eyes followed her every movement. She was on high alert, and the hairs on the back of her neck were raised.
It was impossible to look for threatening movement from this guy. Everything he did seemed threatening. The way he spoke, the way he looked at her: everything about this man had her on edge, and she’d feel so much better once she was safely in her home and away from him.
She finally took a chance and crossed to her front door. Luckily he didn’t follow her. Just looked at her every second of the way as she reached her door.
“Look him up,” said Stranger. “Think about my offer. And I promise this isn’t any Nigerian prince scam. I don’t get a penny until you do. All expenses paid until you get the settlement.”
“And after I get this supposed settlement?”
“Then I get fifty percent.”
Jean had thought that her afternoon nap would’ve been easy considering how tired she’d been when she got home. But after that unsettling meeting with Stranger, she couldn’t seem to stop her thoughts from wandering.
How great would it be to suddenly have a huge inheritance? To be set for life? Stranger hadn’t asked for the pictures back, so she kept on rolling over and looking at the picture of the Farrell family. What a different world they probably lived in. Comfortable in their ivory tower. Not scrounging for tips from assholes like Dickie to keep the lights on.
But if she had accepted Stranger’s crazy offer, these would also be the people she was stealing from. It was easy to think of the rich and powerful as a different breed. Some sort of mustache-twisting villains who deserved to be ripped off and scammed, but Jean knew better. If she tried to claim this inheritance, she’d be the villain in this story.
At least she’d be a villain with electricity.
She chuckled at the thought and grabbed her phone, giving up on the idea of sleeping for a while. She unlocked the screen of the smartphone. It was an indulgence, but considering she didn’t have a television or a computer, it seemed worth it. She looked up Walter Farrell, the same white-haired man from the picture Stranger gave her. Sure enough, the same man showed up on her Internet search.
Now that she was looking for it, she really did see a resemblance. Except Jean had
seen pictures of her real father. He was a younger guy, the same age as her mother. One of Katherine’s on-and-off again boyfriends who had been in and out of jail for the past thirty years due to drug addiction.
No point in even trying to get child support. The guy never held down a job and had never wanted anything to do with her. Jean wondered whether this Walter Farrell would’ve been a better father if Stranger’s crazy story had been true.
It seemed like all the fights between Katherine and Grandma had been about money. Namely, Katherine’s habit of sneaking twenties out of Grandma’s purse. What would their life have been like if all those problems hadn’t existed? If Katherine hadn’t needed to steal and hadn't been kicked out of the house as soon as the courts awarded Grandma custody?
Probably not much different. Jean didn’t think any amount of money in the world would’ve made Katherine a better mother. She tried. She really did attempt to be loving and attentive. But then something would distract her and she’d be gone for weeks or even months.
What could Jean do with all that money? She could actually go to college. Her grades had been good in high school. She’d even gotten into the one school she’d applied to, except, after looking into financial aid programs and any scholarships she could get, she had to admit she couldn’t afford it.
She could major in anything. Her year as a bookkeeper had been her most interesting job yet. Maybe she could get an accounting degree and work for one of those giant companies she saw on the news all the time. The ones running the country, with great benefits.
Or she could do something really out there and do something with animals. Maybe work to help spay and neuter the cats that called the park home.
Jean laughed and rubbed her eyes. She was really too tired and her mind was running wild on her. Another reason she needed to sleep, even if she couldn’t manage to relax. She scrolled through a few more stories before she frowned. Was that...? She zoomed in on a picture and confirmed what she’d first thought. Stranger was in a picture with Walter Farrell.