A Billionaire's Game (Ellsworth Brothers #2)

by Cece Baker

  Glancing around the room Jill found her purse and jacket. She strode quietly to the door of the suite.

  As she reached for the door handle she paused and turned. “Tell me one thing, Drake. What consequences are going to come and slap you in the ass? I’ve counseled enough people who are broke to know that there are always consequences.” Then she paused again. “Are you going to be safe? I mean, people know who you are and where to find you.”

  Drake laughed at the question, tossed back another finger of whiskey and turned to face Jill. Smiling, he replied, “Babe, I don’t use my real name.”

  Disgusted, Jill opened the door and walked out. Slowly the door closed by itself with a muffled click. Angrily, Drake picked up his glass and threw it with such force that the crystal shattered on impact.

  CHAPTER 14

  Jill awoke with a start Saturday morning. She’d tossed and turned all night long after she’d returned home. Why hadn’t she listened to Thea? Why hadn’t she paid attention to all those red flags—the expensive clothes, catered room service meals, the hotel, for god’s sake. The guy lived in a hotel.

  She threw the covers back, climbed out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The black circles under her eyes were prominent. She looked as tired as she felt. She splashed cold water on her face and sputtered, looking back at her reflection. “I have to apologize to Thea,” she said as if speaking to her conscience. Defeated, she wiped her face dry and went to make some strong coffee.

  Warm mug in hand, Jill tucked one leg under her butt and sat on her couch. She scrolled to her recent calls and realized that Thea’s number, which normally sat atop her list of recently called numbers was near the bottom of the screen. Sighing, she mustered her courage and pressed her friend’s name.

  The phone rang only once before she heard Thea’s hesitant greeting. “Hello?”

  “Hi. Thee. It’s me. It’s Jill.”

  “I know,” came the soft reply. “Are you okay?”

  With a big sigh and a sarcastic laugh, Jill replied, “Honestly? No.”

  “Jill,” Thea began, but Jill interrupted.

  “You were right and I was wrong,” she blurted. “And, I need to apologize. I’m so sorry, Thea. I should have listened to you and your advice, but I didn’t. I was stubborn and bitchy, and I’m so sorry.”

  “Jill. Stop. It’s okay. I forgive you. And, I’m asking again, are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “No. I’m absolutely not okay. I have some stuff I need to talk to you about. Can we get together, maybe today or tomorrow?”

  “I would love that. I’ve missed you, girl.”

  “Me too.”

  “The usual spot?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll be there to pick you up in an hour.”

  “Thanks. Thea…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  “I know,” Thea replied and ended the call.

  Jill felt a little better after a shower and another cup of coffee. She walked outside to wait for her friend. Soon she saw the ancient Honda pull up to the curb. Bending over, Jill looked in the window and smiled at her friend. She opened the door and climbed in.

  “Landen still lets you drive this old thing?”

  “Landen doesn’t get to tell me what I drive,” Thea said, pride in her voice. “Ready to roll?” Thea asked, and Jill nodded. No words were necessary. Thea looked over her left shoulder to check for traffic and pulled away from the curb. As they approached their favorite coffee shop, Thea’s phone began to play Barry White’s “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love Babe.” Jill rolled her eyes.

  “Let me guess, it’s Landen?”

  “Yes. He keeps programming my ring tone, and I keep changing it. It’s sort of this phone war thing we have going on,” Thea said with a laugh, climbing out of the sedan. “Hey, handsome,” she said saucily. Jill stood on the sidewalk waiting for her friend to join her. Thea stopped just as she was stepping up onto the curb, and her face paled and her smile disappeared. “He’s what?” was all Jill heard. “Okay. Where is he? On my way. I’ll meet you there. Love you,” and Thea hung up the phone.

  “Get in the car, Jills. We have to get to the hospital right away.”

  Hearing the panic in Thea’s voice, Jill offered to drive. “No, I’m good. Let’s go.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Westin.” said Thea, starting the car.

  “Westin?”

  “Yes, he’s at Hennepin County Medical Center, and that’s all anyone knows.”

  “Oh, god, Thea. I’m so sorry. I hope he’s okay.”

  With that Thea pulled back into traffic and sped quickly to the hospital.

  With a swoosh, the emergency room doors opened automatically, and immediately Thea saw her husband talking to someone in a white lab coat. She approached and put her hand on her husband’s back. Instinctively, Landen wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder.

  “Thanks, doctor. You’ll let me know when we can see him?”

  With a nod of assent the doctor walked away. Thea placed her other hand on Landen’s abdomen and looked into his eyes, usually a clear blue, but now a deep, stormy color. “We don’t know much other than West is in bad shape. Someone found him lying in a back alley, unconscious.”

  At this information, both Thea and Jill gasped audibly. “Oh my god! Was he mugged?”

  “No one knows anything at this point. The doctors are just focusing on caring for Westin. He’s got head trauma and possibly a concussion; broken ribs; a broken leg; and they suspect internal bleeding. They’re taking him in to do an MRI right now.”

  “I’m so sorry, Landen,” Jill said. “Please let me know what I can do to help. Do you need me to call anyone or get you anything? Are you hungry?”

  “I’m just glad you’re here with Thea, Jill. We’ve missed you.” Landen leaned over and gave his wife’s best friend a kiss on the cheek.

  “Have you spoken to your dad or mom?” Thea asked.

  “I talked to Dad. He and Mom are on their way. There’s no way Mom is waiting at home to hear what is happening to her baby boy,” Landen said. “Dad tried to talk her into waiting at home so she’d be more comfortable, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “That sounds like Caroline. Take charge and get ‘er done,” Thea said with obvious admiration in her voice.

  “Who’s taking care of Caroline these days? Are you still doing that?” Jill inquired.

  “No,” replied Thea. “I helped them find another health care worker to replace me. But I go over and visit a couple times a week since my new patient only requires part-time care.” Thea was a home health care worker by profession. She worked one-on-one with her clients, allowing them to remain in their own home.

  The group of three turned their heads at the same time as they heard loud voices. Landen turned and saw his parents. He walked quickly toward them. He leaned down to quickly kiss his mom on the cheek and hold her hand.

  “Dad,” Landen said, raising his voice.

  “Just a minute, son.”

  “Dad. Will you please tone it down.”

  Turning to look at his eldest son condescendingly, he spoke again. “I want to know what is happening to my son. Do you mind stepping away.”

  At this, a security guard approached. “Is there a problem here?”

  “William!” Caroline snapped. “Enough. If everyone would be quiet, this kind person will tell us what we need to know.”

  At that, silence fell over the entire group., as matriarch of the clan, Caroline Ellsworth was used to brokering arguments between the four men in her life. She commanded a presence in a room despite her physical limitations brought on by her long-term battle with MS.

  Quietly, she asked the woman behind the registration desk how they could find out information on the condition of their son, Westin Ellsworth.

  Clearing her throat the woman responded directly to Caroline. “If you would please take a seat in the waiting a
rea, I would happy to find someone who can update you on your son’s condition.”

  “Thank you, miss. I would appreciate any help you can offer. Come William, we’re going over here.” She turned her power wheelchair on a dime and sped away swiftly.

  Thea and Jill greeted her warmly and reassuringly. “Caroline,” Thea began, “we don’t know much other than he’s in surgery to stop internal bleeding. He was hurt badly, but he’s young and strong so that is something that is in his favor.”

  “Right,” Caroline responded quietly, tears filling her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what age your children are, you know, they are always your children.”

  William and Landen approached the women, but the tension between the two was palpable. Landen finally broke the awkward silence by asking, “Were you able to get ahold of Drake?”

  “No. I left messages but haven’t heard anything,” William Ellsworth replied curtly.

  The group finally settled into seats, but they were far from relaxed. Landen sat, elbows braced on his knees, his head bowed. William tapped his finger idly on the arm of the chair. The women continued to reassure Caroline and calm her fears.

  After what seemed like hours, a person clad in green scrubs from head to toe and a mask dangling from around her neck approached the clan.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth?” she asked.

  In unison, Caroline and William said, “That’s us.” Landen rose from his seated position.

  They were temporarily distracted when another person burst through the ER doors at a full-out run. Spotting Landen, Drake ran to greet his family.

  “I got Dad’s message. What the hell is going on? What’s wrong with West? Was there a car accident?” Drake paused to catch his breath.

  “Hello, Drake,” William said dryly. “This person was about to give us an update on your brother’s condition.” Caroline reached out her hand to Drake, and he walked to his mom and held her hand tightly. As he looked at his brother and sister-in-law, he also noticed that Jill was there. He did a chin lift indicating he saw her.

  “Your son is very lucky to be alive,” the O.R. nurse began, and there was a collective gasp from the group. “He’s been hurt badly. His internal injuries are substantial, his kidneys in particular. There are several broken ribs, one of which punctured his left lung.”

  Caroline cried out and put her hand over her mouth, tears filling her eyes.

  “His left leg is broken, as is his right ankle and left arm. There is severe trauma to his head and face as well. He’s holding his own in surgery as we attempt to repair the internal damage, but I won’t lie to you. His condition is very grave. I need to go back in the O.R., but I’ll be back in about an hour or two with another update. In the meantime I suggest you take it easy and rest, get some food, that sort of thing.”

  In shock they watched as the nurse went back through the automatic doors that led to the emergency surgical wing.

  Drake was the first to speak up, “Holy shit. How the hell did this happen?”

  Landen replied, “We don’t know. A trucker saw him lying on the ground over by the train depot in Northeast Minneapolis. We have no idea what he would be doing in such an isolated area. The police think it was an attack, and it wasn’t random.”

  Drake’s face paled. He glanced up and saw Jill’s eyes on him. He felt like she could see right through him. “Fuck,” he said under his breath, then turned and briskly walked toward the exit.

  “Figures,” commented Landen. “Things get tough, and Drake runs away.”

  “Babe,” Thea said, “We don’t know that. Maybe he’s just upset.” She put her arms around her husband and held him to her tightly.

  “I’m going to go find him and see if I can figure out what’s going on,” said Jill as she headed toward the exit.

  ~

  The air was cool outside. Jill shivered and wrapped her sweater around her torso tightly. She saw Drake standing off to the side a few feet away, his hands in his hair, his eyes focused skyward.

  In a soft voice Jill called to him, but he didn’t respond. “Drake,” she called again, and this time he turned to look at her. There were tears in his eyes.

  “Babe. I’m so sorry, I know Westin is your brother and you’re shocked, but your family really needs your support right now. Let’s go back inside.”

  Drake shook his head, not understanding her words.

  “Drake? What’s going on?” Jill didn’t understand Drake’s reaction to Westin’s attack.

  Drake bent at the waist and emptied the contents of his stomach on the grass.

  “Drake!” Jill said as she rushed toward him. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She put her hand on his back softly. “Baby. It’s going to be okay. Westin is strong.”

  “You don’t get it,” he said, wiping his mouth.

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘You don’t get it.’” Drake was practically shouting.

  “Don’t get what? Baby?”

  “It’s all my fault. These are the consequences.”

  “Consequences? What are you talking about?” Jill paused, a questioning look in her eyes.

  “I’m the reason Westin is in that operating room. It was no accident that he was hurt.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Jill!” Drake looked her directly in the eyes and lowered his voice. “I told you. When I play cards I don’t use my real name.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “I use Westin’s name.”

  Jill was silent. “You use Westin’s name?” she asked, still not understanding the implications of what Drake had confessed.

  Then it came to her. She turned to look up at him, horror in her eyes. “That is the reason you make everyone call you ‘Mr. Ellsworth,’ isn’t it? You don’t want them to call you ‘Westin’ in front of anyone who knows that’s not who you really are. Drake! How could you do that? He’s… he’s your brother!” She was shouting now. Passersby were glancing their way. “What kind of person are you that you would hide behind your younger brother as protection, so you don’t have to deal with the fallout from your bad decisions and lack of judgment?”

  Quieting her voice she began again. “I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but you have to make this right. You have to tell them the truth.” Pointing toward the building she continued. “They have to know the reason why the man, the son, and the brother they love is lying in an operating room fighting for his life.”

  With that she turned and walked back through the grass into the hospital.

  CHAPTER 15

  Drake put his glass down on the bar with a loud thwack and motioned to the bartender for a refill. He watched as the golden amber liquid was poured then stared into the drink as if he’d find answers at the bottom. Twisting on his bar stool he leaned in to the woman sitting next to him. “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you,” his words slurring. “You got any cigarettes? I really need a smoke.”

  The brunette glanced his way, looked down her nose and replied, “Sorry, I don’t. You can’t smoke in here anyway,” and she returned to her companion.

  “Who makes rules like that?” Drake said to no one in particular, his voice raised. “I mean, really. When you need to have a drink, chances are pretty close to a hundred,” he hiccupped, “…percent that you need a smoke to go with it.”

  No one was paying any attention to him. He grabbed his whiskey and ambled over to a table where four women were seated. “Ladies. How are we this lovely evening?” They smiled warily at him. He took a slug from his glass. He cleared his throat and in a stern voice imitating a newscaster he posed the question to the group. “Miss, what is your feeling on the laws that restrict us, the free public,” gesturing with his hands in a wide arc to indicate everyone in the bar, “we, the free public from having a smoke in such an establishment?”

  The women giggled nervously. Finally the blonde sitting across the table from him spoke up. “Cigarettes will kill you. Why would you want to knowingly breat
he that air?”

  Pointing a finger in her direction he stumbled backwards and said, “Aha! You have not hurt someone that you care about. Clearly.” He tipped the glass back and drank the rest of the whiskey in one gulp. In an effort to remain upright, he grabbed the shoulder of a man sitting on a barstool just behind him.

  “Hey, buddy!” the man said, sitting up straight. “Hands off, asshole.”

  Slurring once again, Drake apologized and slammed the glass down on the bar and reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a black credit card and handed it to the bartender. “Sir, please put this man’s drinks on my tab,” he said, patting the man on the back.

  The bartender took the card, nodded his head and went to the register to settle Drake’s bill. A minute passed and the bartender approached Drake. “Hey, buddy, your card has been declined. It’s no good.”

  Under his breath Drake muttered “Fuck.” Reaching back into his wallet he searched for cash. He pulled out a hundred dollar bill and handed it to the bartender. “Keep the change Mr. Bar Keep. For your trouble.” With a mock salute to the patrons, Drake stumbled out of the bar and onto the sidewalk.

  With his index finger and thumb he formed a circle and put his fingers in his mouth, flat on his tongue. Out came a piercing whistle. Instantly a cab screeched to a halt in front of him.

  Drake opened the car door clumsily and flopped down on the seat, his legs still sticking out of the door as the cab began to pull away from the curb. His hand finally found the door handle and pulled the car door closed; a corner of his jacket stuck in the door and flapped in the wind outside of the vehicle. Wearily, Drake leaned his head against the car window.