Retaliation: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Landish,Lauren

  “I know. But I still want to make the call.”

  I nod. “Before or after dinner?”

  “Let's do it now,” Melissa says, jumping a little as lightning rips the sky. “Before I get scared of the storm and lose my nerve. I'll help you make the cornbread after, that'll help.”

  I go and get my phone, setting it on the coffee table. Andrea's cell phone number is already programmed in, so I just need to dial. “You know, this might not work. The info the private eye got us is at least two months old. A lot of people trying to stay hidden would change their number in that amount of time.”

  “Still, it's worth a try,” Melissa says hopefully. “For me, Carson?”

  I nod, and hit the dial button. “You want speaker?”

  Melissa shakes her head, just in time for the phone to be picked up. “Hello?”

  “Hello,” I say, amazed at how sultry the voice on the other end of the line is. There's Southern girl talk, and then there's Southern girl talk, and this woman... she's able to talk Southern. “Ah, my name's Carson Sands. Is this Andrea DeLaCoeur?”

  “Why, no it isn't,” the woman on the other end answers, and my heart falls, only to be picked up a minute later. “You've reached her place though. May I ask why you're callin', Mr. Sands?”

  “Well, this is going to be hard to believe... ah... what's your name?”

  “Mercy. My name's Mercy, Mr. Sands. May I call you Carson?”

  With a silken voice like this, she could call me anything, and I'd probably say okay. Jesus, it's been too long since I've been with a woman. “Yes, Mercy, that'd be fine. Anyway, Andrea and I... well, this is going to sound strange, but I swear on a stack of Bibles that it's true. Andrea and I are... kinda siblings. She's kind of my sister.”

  “I see. Hold on just a moment, Mr. Sands.”

  The phone goes on hold, and Melissa gives me a hopeful look. “I think I ran into her friend. She's getting Andrea now, maybe.”

  Melissa smiles and gives me a thumbs up, and I reach out, taking her hand in mine. We sit there for nearly a minute, but I'm getting nervous, and I take the phone away from my ear to see if we've been cut off or something. Just then, the phone comes off hold, and another voice takes over. It's suspicious, but still stirs something deep inside me that Mercy's voice didn't. The dark part of me that I don't let anyone else see.

  “This is Andrea. Who the hell are you?”

  Chapter 3

  Andrea

  When Katrina holds the phone out to me, I see that it's on hold, and I set it down on the table, giving her an incredulous look. “You're shitting me.”

  “No shit,” Katrina says, looking over at Jackson. “You know anything about this?”

  “Nope, but I wouldn't be surprised. Peter was a randy bastard,” Jackson replies with a grimace. “Andi, you and I both know he went through girlfriends like Kleenex. He wasn't careful once, so there's no denying he'd probably do it again.”

  “True,” I admit. Watching Peter flaunt his girlfriends around the house was nearly as painful to me as it probably was to Margaret. Even if I hated the bitch, I have to feel sorry for her about that. “But... what do you think he means 'kind of' my brother? Or I guess our brother?”

  Jackson shrugs. “No clue. I don't even know who Carson Sands is. Nathan, any help?”

  Nathan shakes his head slowly. “No, I don't know the name Sands. But I joined the family after you were born, Jackson. This could be from a previous affair.”

  “Will you just take the call and we can all find out?” Katrina asks, getting to the point. “This guy's been on hold for a minute now. Hell, put it on speaker if you want.”

  Good idea. I set my phone down on the table and hold up a finger to everyone else. “Quiet. I want him to think I'm alone in the room,” I say, hitting the hold button and then the speakerphone button. “This is Andrea. Who the hell are you?”

  I don't mean to come off as bitchy, but when some stranger calls up saying they might be your “kind of” brother, I think I can be forgiven for being a little snarky. I give credit to the guy on the other end though, he plays it pretty cool.

  “Andrea? My name is Carson Sands. Ah... I know you might be a bit sensitive about this, but you are Andrea DeLaCoeur, right?” I take it back, he's more than cool. He's calm and collected, and there's something in his voice that I like. Still, I'm not ready to give up my inner bitch on just a fleeting feeling from a sexy voice.

  “Yes, I am. Now, my friend says you claim to be my 'kinda sorta' brother. I have a brother, and his name is Jackson. You're not Jackson. So you've got about ten seconds to tell me what the hell's going on before I hang up.”

  Katrina's looking a bit surprised, and I realize this is the first time she's seen me in full-on bitch mode. Jackson's used to it, since I used to be this way with him nearly all the time when I wasn't being sarcastic instead. Nathan, well, I assume Nathan's seen me the same way. But Katrina met me as an adult only after I started to feel some closeness for Jackson, and we'd started to build a better relationship. I've never been in full bitch mode with Katrina either, even when we were kids and played together sometimes. She's never gotten on my bad side.

  Carson, on the other hand, again takes it in stride and answers. Judging by that voice, he's obviously smart and well-educated, although there's a hint of country boy to him that just adds to the sexiness. “I'm not related by blood to you. I was adopted by the Sands family when I was six months old, after both of my parents were killed in a car crash. However, all I know is being a Sands. It's my sister, Melissa, who is your half-sister. And your brother Jackson as well. I'd try to contact him, but since Peter's arrest, he's disappeared.”

  “He has his reasons,” I reply, not wanting to give anything away. “If you're looking for a slice of the estate, I don't think there's any left. At least, none that isn't under federal warrant right now.”

  “No, not at all, Miss Andrea,” Carson says, and in the way he says it, I can't help but finally thaw a little bit. The mix of culture and country in his voice is interesting, and he's certainly not trying to blatantly bullshit me. I've been around con men all my life. I can detect that very quickly. “My sister and I have our own means. Have you heard of the MCS Galleries?”

  MCS. Of course I have, just about everyone in town knows about MCS. At least, everyone who has an appreciation for fine art and at least twenty-five thousand to drop on that appreciation, which until a year ago I could do. “Yes, Mr. Sands. Let me guess, the S stands for Sands?”

  “Yes, Melissa and Carson Sands Galleries. I only say this because I want you to be totally reassured. I want nothing to do with the DeLaCoeur money. I'm calling on behalf of my sister.”

  “How so?” I ask, leaning in. A cultured country boy calling on behalf of his sister? This sounds good.

  “Melissa and you share something in common, Miss Andrea. I don't want to be too shocking, but in trying to help her find out more about her roots, I hired a private investigator for Melissa. He found your backstory as well, what happened to your mother. Melissa's mother Janice... my mother, really... the same thing happened to her. After rejection by Peter, our mother... I'm sorry, but Melissa's here with me, and I'd rather not say it.”

  Whatever or whoever Carson Sands is, I can read it in his voice, he loves this Melissa. I've never heard such commitment and strength in a man's voice before, and a tiny part of me wishes I had a guy that would talk about me that way. “Okay, Carson. I understand. How can I help your sister?”

  “Melissa was older than you were when our mother... sorry, when she passed away. Still, Melissa's had some troubles with it, and we're hoping that, well...” Carson says, then pauses, talking inaudibly with someone on the other end who I assume is Melissa. “Melissa's hoping to just talk to you. She's hoping that maybe there could be a way for her to find some closure. With Peter getting out of jail, she's having an especially difficult time, and we both were hoping that you might find some time in your busy schedule to just come out
to our place. Melissa's a bit of a shut-in, and there would already be so much stress from meeting someone new, so it'd be great if you could make it out here.”

  “Where's 'out here'? I see you've got a New Orleans number, but that could be a cell phone in Florida for all I know.”

  Carson hums, then comes back, a smile in his voice. “It's nowhere near that bad, Miss Andrea. We live in Paradis. It's a little spot in St. Charles Parish, just west of New Orleans. You know it?”

  “I've probably been through it once or twice,” I acknowledge. The outskirts of New Orleans are not areas I've been to a lot, other than my old home on the DeLaCoeur plantation. New Orleans itself has always had plenty to occupy me most of the time. Still, you get to know the area. “On the way to Houma, right?”

  “Yes, along Highway 90. Actually, our home is just off of the Old Spanish Trail that parallels the highway. Can I text you the address? It's easy to find that way.”

  I think quickly. Carson's story sounds believable, and I think from his voice he isn't lying to me. “Just a moment, let me check my schedule,” I say, hitting the mute button on my phone. I look at Katrina. “Guys?”

  “He sounds like he's telling the truth,” Katrina says, then looks over at Nathan. “Your opinion, Nathan?”

  “Trust, but verify. Richard Nixon,” Nathan says with a wink. “He says he knows you are busy. He probably knows that you are a graduate student as well. Today is Wednesday. What about Saturday? That gives me some time to check this story out, and fits with your class schedule, right?”

  I nod, and unmute the phone. “Okay Carson, what about Saturday morning? I've got a pretty busy schedule until then. And would you mind if I brought my brother along? Assuming I can track him down, that is.”

  Jackson looks surprised, but nods in agreement, flashing me a thumbs up sign. Carson, on his end, sounds happy. “Andrea, if you can do that, it would be tremendously helpful. Okay, I'll text you our address right now, and you can send me a time to expect you. Thank you so much.”

  “Thank you, Carson. Good evening.”

  “Good evening, Andrea.”

  Carson hangs up, and about thirty seconds later, I get a text message from Carson's number with a street address and maps link, along with a quick note that merely says Thanks again.

  I set my phone aside for the moment and look around the room at my family. “Well?”

  Jackson speaks up first, his normal playfulness replaced with the maturity that I've seen grow in him since Katrina came back into our lives. “Trust, but verify. Sounds like good advice. Not that Carson didn't sound sincere, but you never know. Nathan, you said that Peter is out for blood. What exactly did he say? You never really told us.”

  “I only wanted to have to tell it one time,” Nathan says in a low voice. On the couch, baby Andrea stirs, rolling and fussing a bit. Nathan is immediately on the defensive, checking on her with his eyes before continuing. It's cute, although I'm not sure that word really applies to the former Green Beret's scarred face. It's too bad he's never had kids, he'd make a great father. “Is she okay?”

  Jackson unwraps Andrea from her bundle and checks, sniffing carefully. “Nope. Wet. That's okay, I can change her in about three seconds. Bag's downstairs though.”

  “I'll get it,” Katrina says, getting up from her seat at the table. “You two need to hear this more than I do. I know Peter's out for my head, but that's nothing new. Details about how he wants to do it are pretty minor, and I can get those quickly enough later.”

  Katrina dashes out of my apartment and comes back less than two minutes later, a black duffle bag slung over her shoulder. “Doubles as a gym bag when we need to,” she explains as she scoops Andrea up when I give it a look. “Uh, where's your bedroom?”

  “Two feet to the right of where Nathan's sitting,” I say, pointing at the hideaway bed. “Couch is the best spot for her right now. Don't sweat it if it gets a bit of pee on it, it's old.”

  Katrina nods gratefully and takes the bag over, where I watch as she and Jackson work in almost perfect sync in cleaning and rediapering Andrea before buttoning her back up. “Mind if I breastfeed her?”

  “Not at all. I've seen breasts before, normally mine, but hey, we're adults,” I say, Katrina smirking at the little joke in there.

  “Glad to see you're not so rattled as to lose your ability to be a wiseass,” Katrina says as she lifts her top and gives Andrea her left breast. “I missed that.”

  “You have it all the time online,” I remind her, “but real life is better. So Nathan, you think you can check these guys out?”

  “Of course,” Nathan says. “In the meantime, may I recommend something? Carson said that his mother's name was Janice. Why not do a search for Janice Sands and suicide or mysterious death? I am sure that with all the computer skills in this room you can find something.”

  Computer skills is an understatement, but he's not really referring to me. In my past life I focused mostly on trying to break into Peter's home computer and using whatever opportunities laziness or an open desktop would get me, but Katrina's a top-flight hacker. Find something? She can probably find out the name of Janice Sands' former first grade teacher, plus her social security number if you give her enough time.

  Jackson isn't a hacker, but he's got a good head on his shoulders, now that he's actually using it for more than partying. He nods at Nathan's suggestion. “That's a good idea. And now, the details on what Peter told you, Nathan?”

  Nathan nods, then takes a deep breath. “He first contacted me about a month ago, soon after I got back in the area. After Peter contacted me I went upstate and talked with him. He has lost most of his business contacts, but he has a few that are still loyal. Perhaps most disturbingly are the Russian mob. Those guys do not care one whit about Peter's money, but he helped them get into New Orleans, and they repay loyalty with loyalty.”

  “What did these contacts tell him?” I ask, and Nathan shrugs.

  “Thankfully, not as much as I feared. Peter pieced some things together and figured out that you are still alive, Katrina, and that you and Jackson are together. He also figured out that Andrea, you were the one to clear out his personal safe along with his account in the Bahamas. He does not know how much you three worked together, but he still wants all of you dead.”

  “And he didn't suspect you?” Jackson asks, surprised. “How?”

  “When I told him about you watching Katrina die in Miami, he thought that I had been with you the entire time. He never knew I had gone to Savannah instead while you and Katrina were in Miami tracking down Samuel and Theresa Grammercy. Since I told him I hightailed it out of Miami after that, he never quite put it all together. When he questioned me about it some more, I told him that I had split up from Jackson to try and canvass the city. I let him draw his own conclusions. Thanks to the twenty misguided, but loyal years I spent by his side, he thinks I am still with him.”

  Jackson hums thoughtfully, while Katrina finishes nursing her daughter and tugs her top down, holding the sleeping baby. I'm struck by how strangely normal this all feels, especially considering what we're talking about. I walk over and sit down in front of everyone on the floor, leveling my gaze on Nathan. “So what exactly have you been up to the past year, anyhow? You said you were balancing some debts. Want to give any details?”

  Nathan considers for a moment, then shakes his head. “No. It is not that I don't think you deserve the story, but this is not the time. Just believe me when I say that I will protect you and your family with my life if need be. I hope it does not come to that, but I will do it if need be.”

  I glance at Katrina, who nods. “I trust him, Andrea. A little, at least.”

  I relax some, and give them a smile. Katrina is very careful with her trust, and if she says she still trusts Nathan, I guess I do, too. “So Nathan, I know you whooped up on Jackson. Have you and Katrina had a chance to have a throwdown yet?”

  Nathan glances at Katrina, and both of them smile. It's
not a friendly smile, but it's not a hateful one either. It's two warriors, both confident in their skills, anticipating a new challenge. “Not yet. I'm looking forward to it, though.”

  “Me too.”

  Jackson groans and shakes his head. “I'm not. Too many injuries.”

  Chapter 4

  Carson

  After holding Melissa through the night, dozing on and off in between her nightmares, I'm way too tired to go into the city today. I decide to just call the gallery manager instead. The morning sunlight is streaming warm and beautiful into our kitchen, and Melissa's showering while I dial.

  “MCS Galleries, how can we help you?” my manager Robert greets in his perfectly polite voice. He's been with me since I first opened MCS six years ago, and he's been a model employee. He joined me after working as a customer service rep at a call center near Baton Rouge. Robert has the best customer service I could ask for. When I was barely nineteen years old, he took a risk and joined me in opening an art gallery, a business that usually has old farts running things. But more importantly, he's given me a great right-hand man on the business side. He's a chameleon, really. He can be snobby and pretentious when he's dealing with society types, or he can be casual and down-to-earth, which helps put our new money clients at ease. I'm glad I have him working for me.

  “Hey Robert, it's Carson.”

  “Oh, hi Mr. Sands,” Robert says. That's his one quirk, and in all this time I haven't been able to get him to stop. I hate being called Mr. Sands. I'm Carson, always Carson. Nobody should call me Mr. Sands until I'm at least forty. “Is everything okay?”