Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires #1)

by Nora Flite

  Being with Silver was like taking a shot of adrenaline right to the heart.

  I was nearly whistling by the time I was standing in line at the Starbucks right outside the condo. The barista slid me my change, then a grey tray with two paper cups of coffee stuck in it. I hope Silver likes it black. To be safe, I grabbed up a few packets of sugar. Shit, is he a splenda guy, a raw sugar guy, what?

  My phone was buzzing. Sighing, I abandoned my sweetener crisis and used my free hand to dig out my cell. Maybe it's Silver, wondering where I am. My screen blew up with a myriad of texts. I didn't know the number... but reading the first sentence, I realized who they were from.

  Unknown: Alexis, I'm sorry if I upset you. I don't know why you ran yesterday, but I'm sorry.

  Unknown: And I'm sorry to send you this, because it might make it harder.

  Unknown: But I need your help. I still believe you can be the key in this crime.

  Unknown: This is the last thing I'll ask of you.

  Detective Roose. I knew he had my number, but he'd never messaged me like this. The last text was a video. My thumb was pressing down before I even considered what he'd sent to me.

  Instinct can be a real bastard.

  On my screen, a black and white video rolled. I saw people standing around, the angle difficult to read any faces. It had to be security footage, a camera set in a high corner.

  Then I saw myself.

  Crushing the phone, I began to hyperventilate. I looked so young, a sweet and innocent eighteen year old. I was wearing a dress that I didn't recognize, a fluffy thing that made me glow in the video when compared to the rest of the muted world.

  That's a dress I created!

  The last one I'd ever made.

  I was shaking so hard I nearly dropped my phone. My hand twinged; I was close to shutting it off, or throwing it so that it smashed forever.

  No. No, this isn't...

  It can't be.

  I'd never once seen proof of that day five years ago. I'd tried to avoid the news, I never spoke to the police beyond my initial statement, and my therapist never pushed me too hard to discuss it... though I know she'd longed to.

  But now, here it was. Real footage of the moment I'd worked so hard to bury deep in my psyche. Old me—old, confident, bold me.

  As if I could sense myself in the future, the younger me glanced up, grazing over the camera. I saw my smile—and I saw the person approach me from behind as I waited in that bank line.

  Then I remembered everything.

  “Nice outfit,” a voice said.

  Laughing at the compliment, I spun towards the speaker. I was hoping someone would notice my clothing and say something. If I had any hope of getting accepted to a school for clothing design, I had to test the dresses in the wild and see if they stood out.

  It was one of several I'd made to take with me when I left Portland.

  “Thanks,” I started to say. And then I stopped.

  He smiled at me, his eyes glowing. Something was off, it took my brain a second to make sense of the puzzle in front of me. What was wrong with this man's face?

  A mask. He was wearing a mask.

  It was black, hiding everything but the pits of his richly amber eyes and his tense smile through the fabric. His finger came up, motioning for me to be quiet.

  Then I saw the muzzle of the gun.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, training the weapon on me. “I wish there was another way.”

  I wanted to say, “Please.” Or maybe, “Why me?” But I couldn't. I was frozen there as he whipped the gun high, warning everyone to stay back.

  I was dead, I was going to die.

  Fingers dug into my wrist, dragging me towards a wall. “Everyone get on the ground! And you,” he said, pointing at a teller who had dared to lift a phone. “Tell the police I have hostages.” He spoke with a harsh edge, muffled through the mask.

  Huddling on the floor by his feet, I peered up as he started whispering to a different teller. In his fingers, a tiny black square shined. “Plug this into your computer,” he snapped. “Hurry up.”

  “Okay, okay!” The teller fumbled with the thumb drive, but it must have gone in, because the robber nodded.

  His gun clicked, a warning. “Stay there. No one will get hurt if no one moves.” Crouching beside me, he slid out something the size of a cellphone, but it had too many buttons and wires.

  The gun rested in his lap, still in his tight grip, and pointing near my feet.

  I heard my own voice. “Don't do this, don't shoot anyone.”

  He eyed me, then went back to typing. “I won't if you all sit still.”

  “Is it money you want?”

  His laugh was almost... tired. The vibrations of it shook my teeth to their roots. “I want everything.”

  “Here, just take this and leave us all alone.” I dug into my purse, and in hindsight, I was lucky he didn't shoot me, because how could he know if I didn't have a weapon? “It's my bank info,” I said, scribbling on a piece of paper. “My name, my PIN, everything. I've got almost fifty-thousand dollars, take what I have before the cops get here.” I knew if the police arrived, there'd be shots fired for sure.

  People would definitely die.

  He was no longer tapping at his tiny device. Watching me like I was a new species, he eyed the paper, seeming to read it. Then, he stared at me again. “Why would you do this?”

  “It's just money!” My voice came out louder than either of us was ready for; he flinched. “Why should anyone die because of it?”

  “That's a question I've asked before.” He took the paper from me, but just as my heart lifted, he tore it to shreds. “I don't want your money, Alexis Willow.” Hearing my name sent ice shards into my gut. I'd written it down, of course he knew it. “I want someone else's.”

  “I don't understand,” I said weakly.

  “You don't have to.” Then he flipped the device shut, nodding to himself. Rising, he motioned at the teller who hadn't budged. “Give me that back.” Wordlessly, the man handed the black thumb drive over.

  The stranger stood tall, his sunset-orange eyes raking the room, taking in every pale and twisted face. People who had families. People who weren't ready to die.

  I saw him adjust the pistol, checking the clip. This was it, he was probably counting the bullets to see if there were enough for all of us. I was going to be killed.

  And I needed to understand the reason.

  “Why me?”

  The tip of his gun trained my way, the black in his stare matching the gun's metal. “Because I noticed you. That's the only reason.”

  That moment would change my life.

  With a final smile, he shoved me towards the doors, his gun aiming into the air. “Get out of here!” he roared at me—at everyone. “You have two seconds before I start firing on you!”

  We all obeyed, stampeding out the front in a torrent of acidic fear and panic.

  They'd never found him after that.

  But he'd found me.

  - Chapter Nineteen -

  Alexis

  It's funny, in hindsight, how many times I'd run from one man.

  This time was especially funny, because now I was in the middle of LA with no money and no where to go. At least I was wearing shoes this time.

  Ignoring how my chest was ripping open from my pushed-past-the-point-of-useful-lungs, I didn't stop moving until I was several blocks away from the condo.

  Silver... how could he be the one that had held me hostage? How was it possible?

  A mask had hid his face years ago, but my ears knew his voice. And his eyes... I'd spent enough time looking at them longingly. I'd mapped out who he was. I'd finally stopped thinking about him as some stranger I was infatuated with.

  But I'd been wrong about him from the start.

  He was never a stranger.

  Something warm tickled my wrist. Shaking it off, I wiped at the coffee I'd spilled when I'd started sprinting. The paper cups and their littl
e tray were both gone. I must have dropped them.

  The only thing I still held onto was my phone. Dropping into a chair outside of a cafe, I took a huge breath—filled my lungs—then pressed play. And I kept pressing it. I sat there, ignoring every side-glance from the waiters and groggy customers, just rewatching the video until my eyes itched from not blinking.

  All I'd had before was the sanitized version of the robbery from the News channels. As hard as I'd tried to avoid it all, it was impossible. I'd learned the robber had hacked the system from the inside. And my mother, who couldn't shut up about the event, had informed me that he'd not only stolen millions of dollars...

  He'd given it all away.

  Crodan Insurance Company had been the real victim in the attack. But their attempt to recover the money from their clients ended up revealing how they'd been screwing them all over for years.

  Silver had given back what was owed to everyone from their corrupt policies. And I guess that had made it even harder to try and track down who had done the robbery, since the spoils had gone to every corner of the country.

  People called it a Robin Hood act for a reason.

  But what did I care about that? Silver had made me his fucking pawn. The glint of a gun and his smoldering voice had haunted the recesses of my nightmares for five years.

  Silver had ruined my future.

  But he didn't kill me.

  Freezing, I paused the video. My own innocent smile looked back at me.

  I'd never kissed a bullet. The only thing I'd ever kissed... was him.

  Wiping my forehead, I shivered. Everything from my past and my present was getting contorted into a Gordian knot. Silver had threatened me, thrown me into a dark depression, ruined my confidence. He'd also come back into my life and exposed me to a new sense of self worth.

  Which side of him was the real one?

  And what the hell had made him come back to Portland to find me?

  “Are you alright, Miss? Can I get you something?” One of the waiters had finally gotten brave enough to approach me. His tiny beard was slick and black, matching the one side of his hair that still remained.

  Sitting up, I dropped my phone into my purse. The feeling of my wallet bumping my knuckles reminded me of my plight. I have to get home. I couldn't afford tickets out of here with my current funds.

  It was awful, and also funny, when I considered it. Silver had been letting me lead this grand lifestyle with him. With him. On my own I was poor little Alexis Willow.

  I smiled half-way at the waiter and said, “I'm fine. Really.”

  He didn't believe me, his stare tracking over my face. “Okay. Well, I can get you some water if you like.”

  “That'd be great.” My run had dried me out.

  Smiling politely, he looked me over once more, pausing. “Nice earrings, by the way.”

  Automatically, I reached for them. I must have looked silly with my mouth falling open. The earrings. “Hey!” I blurted. “You can help me, actually.”

  Cocking his head, he came a foot closer. “Tell me what I can do.”

  “Is there a pawn shop nearby?”

  - Chapter Twenty -

  Silver

  Where the fuck was she.

  Where the fuck was she.

  WHERE THE FUCK WAS SHE!?

  Stalking through my condo, I yanked on a pair of jeans with one hand. The other was busy hitting speed dial on her number for the tenth time. She wasn't picking up, but worse than that?

  I had no clue where she could be.

  Everything still smelled like her. Waking up to that scent while I twisted in her leftover warmth in the blankets had been exquisite.

  Finding her side of the bed empty was torture.

  “Pick up!” I growled at my cellphone, instantly tapping the call button again after it hit her voicemail. Had something happened to her? Why else was she not here?

  There was a beep, then a mechanical voice telling me that, “The number you have reached...”

  I slammed the phone onto my bed. I was lucky it didn't shatter, but fuck it, I could have bought a new one. I could buy anything.

  Except for her.

  She was gone.

  Throwing the curtains open, I lit up the room. Alexis wasn't here, but still I looked. I had to be sure, I was praying I'd somehow missed her.

  But I never miss anything.

  Gripping my skull, I turned in place. What the hell happened? The night had ended perfectly—my cock buried up to its base in her sweet cunt, her mouth bruised from my kisses.

  Relax. Maybe she went out to get coffee. I eyeballed the condo with a new purpose. Yes, her sweater is gone. So are her shoes. She'd walked out of here, that was clear. Was I over reacting?

  No.

  Pet's gone. I can't touch her.

  I can't kiss her or feel her or SEE her.

  I was reacting exactly like I should be.

  Tugging on a shirt and my jacket, I stormed out the front door. Unless I was crazy, even the elevator smelled like her.

  Pushing out into the open air, I scanned both ways while standing on the sidewalk. The Starbucks called to me, the air bitter with roasted beans. If she'd gone to get coffee, it would have been here.

  Before I even got through the doors, something caught my eye. There was a greyish item on the ground, a puddle shining as it absorbed into the street. With my heart racing, I knelt by the mess. One paper cup was still in the tray, the other was open on its side.

  I wasn't a bloodhound, but unquestionably, this was a sign.

  My legs cut over the ground and into the shop. The woman behind the counter saw me coming, her eyes widening like I was death on a damn pale horse.

  Maybe I was.

  It depended on what she was about to tell me.

  “I'm looking for someone,” I said, cutting to the chase. “About your height, sharp green eyes, long dark hair. Probably wearing a pink sweatshirt.”

  She balked, chewing her bottom lip. “Oh, uh. Was it one of those “I heart” or “I love” or something LA shirts?”

  Choking on bile, I crushed my nails into my palms. “What happened to her?”

  She darted a look around, as if I was about to announce I was pranking her and this was a TV show. But my intensity was nothing to laugh at. “I don't really know, honestly. She was here maybe fifteen minutes ago, maybe half an hour? She ordered some drinks, then she just ran off. She looked really scared, man.”

  Scared.

  My head was swimming, tipping like I could reveal the answer if I just swung my brain around hard enough. “What way did she go?”

  “Up ninth,” she said. I was already moving, so her next words were louder. “Should I call the cops? Was she like, your girlfriend or something?”

  Yes. I thought, but I didn't speak.

  I needed all my energy to run.

  - Chapter Twenty-one -

  Alexis

  Rubbing the inside of my ear, I worked my jaw. I wasn't much of a flier, yet I'd been on two different planes in just two days. While it was exciting to be in the sky, I could live without the crunching crackle of my ears popping.

  I could have also gone for the roomier seats of a certain fancy jet. Being squished against the window wasn't as glamorous as the recliners had been. But so what? I asked myself grimly. I'd ride a rabid donkey before I'd sit next to him ever again.

  Hours after learning that Silver was the man from my past, I was still just as angry. My phone battery had died from how many times I'd replayed the video during the flight. That was for the best, since I wasn't doing a good job controlling the compulsive need to torture myself.

  However, the downside was that—since I'd been forced to fly with multiple layovers—I had nothing to take my mind off of things. Each flight, I'd sit and browse the same magazine the airline stuck in the back-seat fold. In each airport, I'd wander around aimlessly, wishing I had a charger for my phone.

  When we finally touched down in Portland, it was dark outsi
de.

  Climbing into a taxi, I slumped in the backseat and, except when the driver asked where I lived, didn't speak the whole ride. It should have felt good to be home. It only made me feel worse.

  I was weary, my joints ached. This was supposed to be my second day kicking around LA. Instead I was here, dragging myself up my cracked walkway, past the rotting stench of the dumpster. When I came close enough to set my automatic porch light off, I saw something crumpled on the ground.

  It was a half-eaten dead mouse.

  Swallowing down a wave of nausea, I peeled my purse open. Lifting the keys high, I struggled with the door. I started to shove on it, baffled when the knob didn't move. My door was as solid as a wall.

  What the fuck? Blinking, I turned the keys in my hand. I didn't recognize them at all—and then I did. Silver had handed me copies of his, I'd completely forgotten.

  Shaking my head to clear the webbing, I finally found my keys and let myself inside. Carelessly, I dropped my purse on the floor. The pink sweater soon followed, landing somewhere—I wasn't really watching.

  Plugging my phone into my charger beside the kitchen table, I filled a tea kettle with water. I was setting it on the stove, the blue flames clicking on, when I heard the first 'beep.' On autopilot, I lifted my phone.

  Twenty-two missed calls.

  All from Silver.

  Running my thumb over the edge of the device, I hesitated. Don't talk to him. Don't even read his messages.

  What could he say that could change how much I hated him?

  Nothing.

  Not a word.

  Yet still, I opened the texts.

  Silver: Talk to me, please.

  Silver: Where are you?

  Silver: Tell me you're okay.

  Silver: Pet, answer me.

  Silver: Did something happen?

  Silver: Did I happen?

  Silver: If someone hurt you, I'll kill them.

  Tensing up, I read that last text again. The one who hurt me was you, I thought. Reading his words sent shame tumbling into my wall of betrayal. I should have told him I flew home. What if he thinks I'm in LA and something happened to me?

  He must be so worried, so lost and confused. It wasn't my problem, but...