Reluctantly Rescued (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 9)

by Ruth Cardello

  “You even called Dax because you thought he could influence me one way or another.”

  “I did.” Connor put an arm around Angelina’s shoulders. “When something is meant to be it doesn’t need help.”

  “Oh, I helped.” Clay started counting off on his fingers. “Who advised you to play hard to get?”

  Angelina laughed up at Connor. “Is that what you were doing?”

  Connor shrugged, but his face was red. “I tried.”

  “Who put you in charge of his Gold Star initiative so you could hire Angelina?” Clay continued.

  “Hey, I’ve busted my ass for the organization,” Connor protested.

  “You absolutely have,” Clay agreed, “but admit that it gave you a way to spend time together.”

  Angelina hugged Connor while smiling at Clay. “However it happened, I’m grateful it did.”

  After giving her a quick kiss on the lips, Connor said, “So am I. The how doesn’t matter.” He turned to Clay and grinned. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me.”

  Clay looked Joanna right in the eye. “I’m sorry, I had a hard time hearing you. What did you say, Connor?”

  Lexi shook her head but she was laughing. “Oh, Clay. Do you know how fun you are to watch in action?”

  “Don’t mess with my game head, Lexi. I’m one for one. I can’t mess this up.”

  “One for one.” Lexi winked at Joanna. “He helped one couple get together. I’d hate to mess with a solid record like that. Joanna you have to give Clay a chance to prove himself.”

  The puppy-dog look Clay gave Joanna was confusing. Why would such a powerful man care about her love life? “This is all a game to you, isn’t it?”

  His smile was easy. “Of course it is, but when I play everyone wins.”

  Joanna looked from Angelina who seemed cautiously optimistic to Aly who appeared skeptical, but that was nothing new. Joanna picked up the white card again and weighed the possibilities. “We’d have to agree to some ground rules.”

  Clay sat back and tapped his fingers on the table. “What do you think, Lexi? Does Cinderella get to set conditions?”

  Laying her hand over her husband’s, Lexi said, “Always.”

  He nodded then turned back to Joanna. “This is already better—Connor fought me all the way. Sweet Joanna, tell me these rules of yours.”

  Joanna’s chin rose. “None of this is ever used to embarrass Bradford.”

  Clay had the grace to look a little chastened. “Agreed.”

  “Also, if it turns out that he and I don’t have a connection—you promise to find him someone who will bring a smile back to his face.”

  The table fell silent for a moment.

  Clay blinked a few times then cleared his throat. “Wow, you got me with that last one. I can do that.”

  “Me too,” Connor said from across the table. “If it doesn’t work out with Bradford, reconsider Dylan. He needs someone like you. He’s putting on a big show here, but he’s missing us and there’s a lot he’s still figuring out.”

  Aly looked around the room as if seeking Dylan out in the crowd. He was once again surrounded by female admirers. She shook her head and looked away. “I’m sure he’ll find a way to ease his pain.”

  Joanna elbowed her. I know you’re scared, Aly, but knock it off.

  Clay waved a hand in the air. “Back to Bradford. We need to find a way for you to spend time together.”

  “That might be harder than you think,” Joanna said. “I asked him if he wanted to get breakfast with me tomorrow and/or go for a walk and he said no to both.” On Clay’s prompting she shared the details of where and when she’d asked him to meet her.

  Clay looked to his wife. “Lexi, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Yep. He’ll definitely be there.” Lexi smiled.

  “So I should plan like he’s meeting me?” Joanna asked.

  “No,” Clay said. “I’ll plan like he’s meeting you. You just show up.”

  Letting Clay get involved was a crazy idea.

  There were so many ways it could go wrong.

  Still, Joanna believed in fate and things working out the way they were supposed to. Maybe all she was meant to do was come into Bradford’s life to remind him that people cared about him. Or maybe they were meant for more.

  Either way, she was drawn to him in a way that could not be ignored. She’d never been afraid to follow her heart and right then it was telling her that Bradford needed her. How? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t walk away.

  “Okay. I’m in.”

  Chapter Five

  A little after three in the morning Bradford woke in a full sweat and sat straight up in his bed. His breathing was ragged, his muscles were shaking. He rubbed his hands over his face and swore.

  He never remembered his dreams, and that was a gift. During the day he normally had tight control over where his thoughts went, but at night his subconscious fed him all kinds of shit that shook him to the core. He often woke with a deep sense of dread and remorse.

  Throwing back the blanket, Bradford flipped on the light and walked his naked ass to his closet. With sleep an impossibility, he donned shorts and a T-shirt and headed out for a run.

  Exercise always cleared his head. He ran until the weight of his dreams fell away. He kept running until the endorphins kicked in and he felt strong enough to fight back his demons.

  He couldn’t outrun images of Joanna or get her invitation out of his head. He knew all the reasons why he shouldn’t meet her that morning, but he wanted to.

  That was the real problem.

  She’s not interested in me.

  She has her sight set on Dylan.

  Seeing her again would be a waste of my time and hers. I’m not looking for friendship from her and she’s not looking for more than that from me.

  So why the fuck can’t I get her out of my head?

  On his way back to his New York apartment, he hit the gym for a heavy workout. She was there in his thoughts regardless of how hard he pushed himself. After they’d spoken, had she returned to the table and asked Dylan to breakfast?

  Had they hooked up?

  Is he fucking her right now?

  He didn’t want to know. Knowledge was power, and normally he made it his business to know everything about everyone—but she was scrambling his brain.

  Beneath the hot spray of the shower he imagined a different ending to his tequila lesson—one that included him kissing the salt off her lips and tasting the mixture of her and the liquor. He hated how easy it was to imagine her hands on him and the sounds she might make as he brought her pleasure.

  With only a towel draped around his waist he paced his apartment. He told himself the only sensible thing to do was to put some distance between Joanna and himself. There was always work for someone like him. Somewhere in the world someone was in peril. The more dangerous the mission, the better.

  He picked up his phone to arrange for just such a job, but instead reread Joanna’s texts to him. He’d outright told her he wouldn’t be at breakfast. Her answer? “That’s okay, I will be.”

  No one was that fucking easygoing.

  She’d said it, but there was zero chance she meant it.

  He imagined her sitting at a table with a swear jar she’d decorated for him—waiting for him. Yeah, like that’s fucking reality.

  He tossed his phone down on his bed and headed into his closet to choose an outfit. He caught a glimpse of himself in a full-length mirror and stopped. Each scar on his chest had a story behind it—some he wasn’t proud of. He shifted in the mirror so he could see the back of his left shoulder that still bore the marks of the chain whipping he’d received when he’d tried to save his sister. He raised a hand and traced the largest scar on his cheek. The slice had been delivered with a broken beer bottle and meant for his neck. The man who’d given it to him was the one who’d initially brought Ella back into the gang.

  His death had been swifter than he de
served.

  Bradford turned away from the mirror. His outer body was impressively damaged, but his insides were a hundred times uglier. Although he’d never hurt an innocent, he’d spent most of his life rescuing them from people who were just as fucked up as he was.

  As he dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he told himself it was better for people like him to stay with their own kind. All he’d do was disappoint Joanna and all she’d do was remind him of everything he wasn’t.

  If she’s stupid enough to sit in a restaurant waiting for someone who said they wouldn’t be there—that’s on her.

  He walked back into his bedroom to retrieve his phone and paused. If she actually did go to breakfast alone, did that mean she’d also take a walk around the pond by herself?

  He didn’t know the area. Were the paths there heavily traveled? Had there been violent incidents in the area recently? I should have researched the place.

  I never fly blind.

  I’m losing my focus.

  He exceeded the speed limit the entire way to the restaurant, another out-of-character act. His work required staying under the radar—invisible. No one did what he did without accumulating enemies.

  Another reason not to get involved with Joanna. For people like him, caring about anyone gave those who would want to hurt him the ability to do so. Been there. Done that. Not signing up for that ride again.

  Her car was there. Was she alone?

  He parked a distance away but didn’t immediately get out.

  If she was with someone, there was no need for her to know he was there. If she was alone, he could keep things casual. I’ll go in, make sure she’s safe, leave.

  He was walking toward the entrance of the restaurant when she came out the door. She looked disappointed, but her head was held high. When he moved her eyes flew to his and the smile that spread across her face knocked his breath clear out of him. He swayed on his feet. Holy shit.

  She was before him in a heartbeat. “You came.”

  He took a deep breath. He wanted to ask her if she was alone. If she wasn’t he wanted to haul her out of there and show her why he was the better choice. But I’m not.

  She dug into her oversized purse and produced a gift-wrapped box. “I brought this for you.”

  He didn’t reach for it. That was too dangerous. Being with her was as jolting as stepping out into bright sunlight after spending a lifetime in darkness. She was too much—too happy, too tempting. He ached in a way that was terrifying . . . and fucking incredible. “I didn’t like the idea of you here alone.”

  She tossed the gift at him.

  He caught it.

  “Open it.”

  “No need.” He shook the box. “It’s loose coins in a glass jar I’ll never use.”

  “I guess it’s not a surprise since I told you what I’d bring you.” Laughter lit her eyes. “I added a few coins because the way you swear I thought you might need some help covering the cost. Isn’t that what friends are for?”

  He leaned down until his mouth hovered over hers. It would have been so easy to give in to the desire pulsing through him. His mind was full of X-rated things friends could do together, but he kept all of those thoughts to himself and straightened. He forced his attention back to the gift in his hand. “I have all—”

  With a wave of her hand she cut him off. “I know. I know. You have all the friends you need. But you’re here, so I know you care.”

  She had him there. “I couldn’t let you walk around in the woods on your own.”

  “Because you care.”

  He wasn’t going there. Instead he shook the box again. “Who even has change anymore?”

  She laughed. “Open the damn gift.”

  He did and pulled out a mason jar with a large white label on one side. He started to read it, a smile spreading across his face as he did. “Swearing fees: Said in pain: 25 cents, Said in anger: $10, Said in ecstasy: no charge.”

  She looked so proud of herself. “I was shooting for cute and a little sexy.”

  She’d hit her mark, too easily for his comfort. He replaced the jar in the box and held it out for her to take back. “I’d give it to Dylan if I were you.”

  “You’re not me.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I always say thank you when someone takes the time to make a gift for me.”

  His hand clenched on the box as he lowered it to his side. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

  She searched his face. “You’re wrong. I don’t play games.” She uncrossed her arms. “I’m not interested in Dylan. He was a fun idea, but he’s not my type.”

  “Don’t.” The words were wrenched out of Bradford.

  She frowned. “I like you. I don’t know if this has the potential to go anywhere, but I’d like to get to know you. Maybe we’ll go for a walk together and discover we have nothing in common and no reason to meet up again. Or maybe we’ll decide different isn’t bad.”

  His chest tightened and anger bubbled within him. “Different.” His laugh held only dark humor. “You have no fucking idea.”

  Without missing a beat, she said, “Ten dollars.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” They stood there looking at each other in a silent standoff.

  His unexplainable anger began to subside. There were two clear paths before him and his response to her soft reprimand would be a step down one or the other. He could hand the jar back to her and tell her he had no intention of changing for anyone. Or . . .

  He dug his wallet out of his back pocket, withdrew a ten-dollar bill and stuffed it through the slit on the top of the jar. There was no triumph in her expression, no sign of gloating. When he looked in her eyes he saw only the friendship she kept offering him.

  She claimed to like him.

  The tone of the gift implied she also found him attractive.

  There probably were instances where differences were good, but this was not one of them. He told himself to walk away, but he couldn’t get himself to.

  Her smile sent a wave of warmth through him. She referenced the building behind her. “There’s an hour wait inside or I’d suggest we get something to eat. Instead, why don’t you put the gift in your car and we can go for that walk?”

  He nodded then started walking with her in the direction of his car. He unlocked the side door, opened it, then after placing the box in the back, he said, “Thank you for the gift.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After closing the door of his car, he turned and discovered her so close to him his breath caught in his throat. She needed to know who she was dealing with. “I’ve done a lot of things in my life I’m not proud of.”

  She held his gaze. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  “Yes, but no one the world isn’t better without.” With a self-deprecating smile, he added, “And I’m seriously trying to cut down.”

  She let out a shaky breath. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

  “I wish I were.” He leaned in. “I’m too far gone, Joanna. You can’t bring someone like me back to where you are.” He straightened. “There’s too much blood on my hands.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist. “How many?”

  She didn’t want to know and he didn’t want to say, so he didn’t.

  After a moment, she said, “Tell me about one. Any one.”

  He shook his head.

  “Not the details,” she pressed, “the reason. One person. One reason.”

  Everything he did was highly classified and even Ian didn’t know all of it. Telling her anything made no sense at all, but he said, “A recent one kidnapped a senator’s daughter. I’m attempting to work with law enforcement more, but some situations are best handled with swift precision. He was a repeat offender. His first victim was taken in Spain. The family paid the ransom but never got the child back. His first kidnapping was practice for the big target—the big payout. He had no intention of releasing the senator’s daughter or negotiating.”<
br />
  “You saved a child,” she said in a low tone.

  “Don’t pretty it up. I’m a cold-blooded killer. No remorse. No mercy. I’m only scared when I enjoy it.”

  She rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms as if fighting off a chill. “Do you? Enjoy it?”

  He looked away. “Sometimes. When I take aim and I can see their victim’s face in my head, when I know exactly what happened to them at the hands of my target. Sometimes it feels good in that moment.” He met her gaze, letting her see the darkness in him. “But every kill is a mark on my soul. There are days when I don’t see the difference between who I am and who I’m sent to take down.”

  She swallowed visibly. “Do you work for the CIA or FBI or any of the alphabets?”

  He almost smiled. She was scared, but wasn’t running. “I’m the one they call when things get—complicated.”

  She nodded slowly. “Ian used to work with you.”

  “Yes, but now he has a desk job.”

  “Did he also—?”

  She didn’t finish the question he wouldn’t have been able to answer anyway. They fell into a long silence. A mother with children came out of the restaurant and went to the car beside Bradford’s. While she was securing a toddler into a car seat, her slightly older child bolted, crashed into Bradford’s legs, and fell backward. He caught the boy before he hit the ground and righted him. “Easy there.”

  The boy’s bottom lip quivered, likely from the scare of almost getting hurt. “You’ve got a big boo boo on your face.”

  The mother sprinted to her son’s side and scooped him up. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Not a problem,” Bradford said. He winked at the woman then touched the scar on his cheek. “Boo boos happen when you’re not careful. You should stay with your mom. Parking lots are dangerous. Cars can’t see little ones.”

  The little boy hugged his mother’s neck and nodded. “Boo boos hurt.”

  “They sure do,” Bradford agreed.

  After the car pulled away, Bradford turned his attention back to Joanna.

  She was looking at him with an expression in her eyes that only made him hate himself more. She stepped closer and laid her hand on his scarred cheek. “I’m so sorry for the things you’ve seen and the things you’ve been asked to do. I can’t imagine the price you pay for the good you’ve done.”