This is the fucking life.
No more worries or stress. No hiding in condos. Just endless sun and heat, and the freedom to take advantage as much as I wanted.
And enough money to do it for the rest of my life.
The ocean breeze rustled my long, red tresses. With one more look over the harbor, I turned back to my current book. Long sips of the mojito worked with the canopy overhead to keep me cool and content.
A figure out of the corner of my eye blotted out the sun for a moment before sitting across the table.
I stuck my finger in the book to mark my spot, annoyance at the interruption giving my voice an extra push. “Excuse me, this is a private table.”
The man was in shadow, but his clothing gave away his gender. I couldn’t make out his face because of the blinding sun lighting the Riva behind him.
Maybe he doesn’t speak English.
I searched for the little Croatian I’d picked up, but couldn’t put together the words I needed to convey my meaning.
“Hello? Please leave, this is my table.” I made a shooing motion with my hands.
The man leaned forward until his features became visible.
It can’t be…
“What, no room for an old friend, Addison?”
The book fell from nerveless fingers and hit the ground in a sad clump of paper.
“James. You should be in prison. How did you find me?”
I craned my neck around. If he’d come with friends to take me out, they could be all around me. I tensed up, ready to run away at the first hint of danger.
“Relax, Addison. I’m not here to get revenge.”
His voice was as easy as it ever was, but that never meant anything with James. Every part of him was under perfect control—his expression, his voice, the content of his speech—all to portray the image he wanted.
“How can I trust you?”
His chuckle rumbled across the table. “Trust me? Did I ever stab you in the back, Addison?”
I winced. “I regretted it as soon as I made the call, James. It looked like you were ready to set up house with Kat, and then what use would you have for me? I didn’t want to be a loose end for you to tie off.”
“Loose end? We were friends. I would have even called you my best friend.” The disappointment in his tone was heavy, amplified by the control he exerted over his voice. “That’s why I won’t screw you over like you did me, even though I easily could.”
I swallowed hard. “Why are you here, then?”
He grinned, the white teeth catching some of the abundant sunlight and glimmering. “While you have a nice gig here, it’s only a matter of time before you get bored out of your mind. And I know you can hack and program from anywhere, but what’s the point if there’s no real purpose behind it?”
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable that he could read my mind so well. Lazing in the sun was great, but even after just a month my overactive mind was going a little crazy from the lack of challenge. “So, what? You want me to help you out again? Reunite the team?”
James shook his head. “Not exactly. Kat and I got married a few days ago—this is actually the first stop on our honeymoon. You should be flattered that I chose Split mostly because you’re here. I just stepped out of the apartment to stock up on more wine. I’m out of the game for good, now.”
“What, then? Did you show up to rub it in my face that you can get shoved into a pit of manure and climb out without a single piece of shit on you?”
He stood and placed a business card on the table in front of me. “Not exactly—although the look on your face when I sat down was delightful. No, a friend asked for the smartest hacker I knew. I’m not sure what he’s after, but I know you’ll like him. If you get bored and are looking for the experience of a lifetime, this is the one.”
The card was jet black. Completely. I picked it up and flipped it over, finding the other side the same inky shade. There was no text on either surface.
“What kind of joke is this?”
I looked up to find myself alone once more at the table.
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Included in this copy of Steal is the Devereux novella Capturing Liberty. If you have not read it yet, continue on for the full novella.
Capturing Liberty
About the Author
Acknowledgements
CAPTURING LIBERTY
A DEVEREUX NOVELLA
D.G. WHISKEY
COPYRIGHT © 2015 D.G. WHISKEY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
DESCRIPTION
Stephen Devereux has just moved to New York City and flexes the power of his wealth by saving model/waitress Liberty from a Wall Street asshole.
Their whirlwind romance sweeps Liberty along but she refuses to give up her independence and goals as she fights to make it as a model. When a modeling gig goes wrong, Liberty has to fight for freedom and to be reunited with the man she's come to love.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
STEAL: A BAD BOY ROMANCE
CAPTURING LIBERTY
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
“Be a good girl and get us another round of scotch, will you doll?”
The man’s voice was superior, patronizing, and he had a smug grin on his face. Either of those I could have put up with, but I drew the line when paired with his hand sliding down my back to squeeze my ass in the tight black dress all waitresses had to wear at Dorgo’s.
I slapped his hand away. “Please don’t touch me.”
The slack-jawed look on his face and low whistles from the other men at the table lit a fierce satisfaction within me. It didn’t last long.
“Did you fucking hit my hand?” He stood up from his chair. He wasn’t a tall man, but I wasn’t a tall woman and the flush in his face signaled that this was a man given to outbursts of anger.
“You’ve been making inappropriate remarks and advances for the past several hours. They aren’t welcome, and I want you to stop.”
His nostrils flared. He might have been handsome, but his actions over the course of my shift and his state of inebriation filled me with disgust and distaste.
“I’m paying over fifty bucks a drink. If I want to put my hand on your ass, then I’ll put my hand on your ass,” he said. He grabbed my arm and yanked me toward him, gripping my ass in his other hand so hard it hurt.
“Get off me!” I struggled against him, but he was too strong. It was hard to look around the bar with my motion restricted, and I saw none of the other servers. The group had snagged one of the more secluded tables in the classy Wall Street cocktail bar. Situations like this didn’t happen at Dorgo’s.
The man pulled me even harder against him. “I’ll do whatever I want. Hell, if I wanted to take you home tonight then you’ll come with me, and like it.”
“Paul, let her go, man.” The other men at the table looked uncomfortable, but weren’t in any hurry to get up from their seats and help me.
“Don’t be such a fucking
pussy, Grant. We own this town and we can do what we want.” The aggressor turned back and stared at me. “I want to teach her a lesson for being a frigid bitch.”
Words stuck in my throat. I should have been screaming, or calling for help, or struggling with all my might, but shock paralyzed me and I watched the scene unfold like a big screen movie. Somehow I was detached from it all, unable to believe it was happening.
A hand reached past me to shove hard against Paul’s chest at the same time another wrapped around my waist to wrench me from his arms. Paul stumbled back a few paces and almost fell, catching himself on his chair at the last moment.
For the second time in as many minutes a male body held me tight, but the hand on me was gentle and he smelled nice. When I looked up, I saw a chiseled face and high cheekbones under a set of dark green eyes that stared at the man who’d been assaulting me.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Paul shouted, having regained his feet.
The man who shoved him looked down at me, his eyes softening from their deadly glare when our gazes met. “Are you okay?” he asked, ignoring the belligerent man a few paces away.
“I’m not hurt,” I said. “Thank you.”
He withdrew his arm once I’d regained my balance, leaving me to stand on my own. His chin jutted out as he turned back to Paul. “Why the hell would you do that to a woman only talking to you because of her job and clearly wants nothing to do with you?”
Paul took a step forward in what he must have intended to be a threatening gesture. My savior didn’t appear too concerned—he was taller and better built than the drunk asshole, and Paul had to focus to even put his feet forward in the right order.
“I can do whatever I want here,” Paul said. “Do you know who I am? I fucking run this town, you piece of shit. I’m worth four hundred million dollars and run one of the biggest hedge funds on the planet. You’ll pay for laying a hand on me, you and that fucking bitch.”
I shivered. The perk of working at Dorgo’s was all the rich bankers and hedge fund managers who came to talk shop and tipped well. The downside was coming into contact with megalomaniac jackasses who thought they could get away with anything because they were rich.
Problem was, they were right.
Other patrons of the bar had taken notice of the altercation—every table in the exclusive section of the bar featured all eyes toward the spectacle. I couldn’t blame them—I had seen nothing like it in the few months I’d worked there.
“You’ll want to watch who you run your mouth off to. One of these days it’ll get you into trouble. It might even be today.” The self-assured tone of the man at my side forced me to give him another look.
There wasn’t anything in particular that stood out about him other than his aristocratic features. His face could have been carved by a Roman sculptor. A well-tailored suit showed off his athletic form, but every man in the establishment wore similar clothing. His age wasn’t clear, but he couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five to Paul’s early forties.
“Are you threatening me, boy?” Paul asked. “I can ruin you quicker than you could imagine. I have more powerful friends than you even know exist. You better get out of my sight and be happy I’m letting you off that easy.”
I looked back toward the bar and caught John’s eyes. The supervisor also worked the bar during the week, and the flood of customers had died down enough for him to notice the tense atmosphere in our direction. I waved to get his attention and gestured to come over.
“How much did you say you were worth again—four hundred million dollars? I’ll tell you what, here’s what we’ll do.” The man at my side reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. “How about we each cut the deck, and the person who loses has to pay the other four hundred million dollars.”
Stunned silence met his words. Is he serious?
A tidal wave of whispers ran through the onlookers. John had reached the group just as the man proposed the wager, and his jaw dropped so low it looked like he had dislocated it.
“Cut for four hundred million dollars?” Paul’s face whitened. “There’s no way you have that kind of money. What do you think I am, a fool? If I win you’ll just run away and I’ll never see a dime.”
“If you agree, then we’ll find a third party we both trust to escrow. With the number of wealthy bankers in this bar, it shouldn’t be difficult.”
Paul stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
The sound of shuffling cards was his only response. His opponent’s face was granite, giving nothing away.
Gears turned in Paul’s head, thoughts flitting behind his eyes. Greed, and fear. The chance to double his fortune, or walk away with nothing. He hadn’t gotten where he was without an appetite for gambling.
“Fuck you,” he finally said. “This is madness. Who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Stephen Devereux. If you aren’t willing to man up, then get the fuck out of here and let us enjoy our night.”
Paul’s friends had enough. What began as an interesting diversion for them turned into a serious clash. Grant tugged on Paul’s arm, “Let’s go, there’s no point hanging around here any longer.”
With no choice, Paul let himself be ushered out of the bar by his group. His stare never left Stephen—it promised pain for the humiliation he’d suffered in front of so many of his peers and the city’s wealthy elite. Then his eyes locked on me for the last few seconds before he exited the lounge area and I couldn’t help but shiver. I’d never seen such hatred before.
“Are you sure you’re all right? What’s your name?” Stephen asked me, his hand on my elbow.
John raised an eyebrow at me in question, and I nodded. He went back to the bar.
“I’m much better now, thank you so much,” I said. “I’m Liberty. I don’t know where you came from, but that was amazing the way you stared him down like that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, as though he’d done nothing more than hold a door open. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Help? That was incredible! At least let me get you a drink on the house.”
I led Stephen to the bar and told John to treat him to the very best for as long as he wanted to stay.
“Are you here with friends or colleagues?”
He shook his head. “No, I heard this was an interesting gathering place for the wealthy bankers, so I thought I would check it out. I’m new in town, still trying to get my bearings.”
Stephen intrigued me and I felt grateful, but I also had a job I was on the clock for. Losing tips from Paul’s table would hurt, but even worse was them not paying their tab before they left. It would have to come out of my pocket, but I’d rather pay it than have that cancerous tumor sitting in my section for the rest of my shift.
There was another hour left before I could go home, and by the time I’d closed out my tables I’d gotten enough tips to break even on the night after paying for the drinks at Paul’s table. When I checked in with John, he waved off the payment.
“It’s already paid for, Liberty. The same guy who saved you felt responsible for that table and he offered to pay it off, plus tip. I wouldn’t have made you pay for it anyway, considering the circumstances.”
I’d been so grateful for Stephen’s help, but now I was just embarrassed. There was no sign of him at the bar. It would have been nice to thank him again and say goodbye. “He paid for the whole thing? I can’t believe I got him involved in that mess. That Paul character looked like he will do everything in his power to get revenge for the way Stephen showed him up.”
John shrugged. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer, Liberty, I tried. I got the feeling he would leave a few hundred dollar bills lying around if I refused to take his money. I wouldn’t worry about Paul, I’ve seen him around a few times and he’s a big tool when he’s drinking but he’ll come to his senses in the morning. It’s not like he’ll pursue a personal vendetta for an altercation at a bar.”
<
br /> Based on his vitriolic stare as he left, I disagreed but didn’t bother taking the conversation any further. I wanted to go home and get to sleep.
I’d almost gotten to the door when a familiar hand on my side turned me. Stephen stood there, his height making me feel tiny but not in a threatened way.
“Leaving now?” he asked. His voice was pleasantly low, and smooth as silk. Much different than it had been while confronting Paul.
“Yes, shift’s over,” I said, smiling. “Thanks again for earlier, I should see if I can get a bat light installed in case I ever need you again.”
He laughed. “That would be something. Would you mind if I walk you home tonight? I don’t know if that asshole would try to do anything to you after leaving the bar, but I’d never forgive myself if he did something and I wasn’t there to prevent it.”
Walk me home? Stephen was tall, good looking and well-off. And that voice! Could I refuse the offer? The thought of Paul waiting out there had crossed my mind, and Stephen made me feel safe.
“I’d like that.”
We left the building and strolled along Wall Street, taking the right along William. The sky was dark and a few faint rumbles rolled across the city.
“How far away do you live?” he asked. “Do you walk or should we take an Uber?”
“It’s a little far, but not too bad. We’ll be fine.” I looked at him sideways, trying to get a fix on him. “You said you’re new in town?”
“Oh yes, just got in a week or two ago. I’ve been to New York before, but only for the occasional weekend here and there, not to live.”
“Do you mind if I ask what you do?” It wasn’t often I met someone willing to throw away four hundred million dollars to prove a point.
He took longer to respond than I expected. “I’m trying to figure that part out. I went to school to be a surgeon, and I enjoyed medical school and learning so much about the human body. Surgeons work a ton of hours, though, and once the money is taken out of the equation it’s no longer as appealing a proposition. New York seemed like the perfect place for reflection and finding myself, so here I am.”
Steal: A Bad Boy Romance Page 15