The Billionaire's Prize: Taken & Tempted: (Book 3 Billionaire Bodyguard Series)

by Kristi Avalon

  Liam scratched his sideburns. “There’s a clue in there. If Uncle Jake got to the motel first he would’ve signed in. So why under the last name Ramos, unless he wanted someone to know who he was dealing with?”

  “That’s what I wondered, too,” Kylie said.

  “I want to know more about the woman in the black Cadillac,” Liam said. “I’ll see if I can get a hold of video footage from surveillance cameras for that day.”

  She shook her head regretfully. “There isn’t any footage. The motel’s cameras were for show, they didn’t work.”

  Liam offered a crooked grin that made his dimples pop. “Maybe you and the cops couldn’t find anything, but I have a buddy who works at an AV company in that part of town.”

  “AV?” she asked, unfamiliar with the term.

  “Audio/Visual. My buddy manages the equipment repair department. He might be persuaded to follow up with the shop owners or nearby businesses for their old footage. I think there’s an AV storage database he can access, too. For the right price.”

  Cade walked to a safe embedded in the wall, dialed four digits then pulled a wad of hundred dollar bills from the contents. He closed the safe, spun the dial. “This is off the books.” He approached Liam and dropped the stack of cash in front of his cousin. “Make it happen.”

  Kylie jumped in her chair, startled by the buzz of her cell phone. She glanced at the caller ID. Dominique. “Excuse me for a minute.”

  She answered the call out in the hallway. “Sorry I didn’t text you sooner. I just arrived in Denver an hour ago, and—”

  “They came here.” Dominique’s voice sounded garbled and strained. “To the apartment. The men threatened me. My daughter was in the next room!”

  Terror stuck her like hot lightning. “Who came, Dominique?”

  “I don’t know! They asked for you. I pretended I didn’t know you, but I live right below you in our duplex. They called me a liar. When I told them you left, they pointed a gun between my eyes and said if I didn’t tell them where you went they’d kill me.” Dominique sobbed.

  Kylie’s voice dropped to a fearful whisper. “Did you tell them I’m in Denver?”

  “I had to,” Dominique wailed. “I’m sorry, Kylie. I had to…my daughter…”

  “Okay. It’s okay.” Her blood turned to ice in her veins. She spoke in controlled tones, but she wanted to sob hysterically, too. “You need to get out of the house. You’re not safe there. Bruno Ramos killed Maria, and I believe he’s after me.”

  “Is that who sent the men to our home? Is he a criminal?”

  “Yes, a very bad one. You can’t go to the motel down the street. It’s too close, and there won’t be enough security.” As her discussion with the Soren men had just proven. “Go to the police, make a statement. Then call Professor Carlton. He used to prosecute men like Bruno Ramos. He’ll know what to do, where to go, so you and Jayda will be safe.”

  Dominique sniffed. “What about you?”

  Kylie glanced through the crack in the partially closed door and saw Slone’s rock solid shoulder in view. “I have a bodyguard. I’m not worried.” She nearly choked on the lie. “Cade makes a lot of money keeping people safe, his company’s reputation is excellent. I couldn’t be in better hands.” I hope.

  “All right, love. Be safe. I’m taking my daughter to the police station now.”

  “I will. Take care, Dominique.”

  She ended the call. Her body shook with live wire tension.

  Fear scorched her insides. As she returned to the conference room, she felt like she was slogging through thick, slow-moving lava.

  The four men in the room stared at her with varying degrees of concern and dread. “Sounds like you just got some bad news,” Liam said, his forehead tight with a frown.

  “Looks like it, too.” Adam pulled out her chair. “Come sit down. Before you pass out.”

  Cade reached for her, stroking his hands up her arms. “What happened?”

  “Several men came to my house searching for me. They threatened my neighbor, my best friend, Dominique. They held a gun to her head. She has a daughter, and…” Her voice cracked.

  Cade’s tone hardened. “Does Dominique know where you are?”

  Tears threatened. She couldn’t speak. Only nod.

  “Damn it,” he cursed under his breath.

  Adam slammed his fist against the table, making her flinch. “So much for the element of surprise. Cade, he’ll track her down. That slaps a target on all of us—”

  “I know that,” Cade snapped. His strong hands kneaded her tense shoulders while he talked. “She’ll be safe at my place. Dozens of cameras. Security guards twenty-four/seven. My own private elevator. Ramos won’t connect her to me, not immediately. That’s our one saving grace right now.”

  “Better be,” Adam muttered. “This just went from bad to shit.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For everything.”

  Cade cupped her chin. “This isn’t your fault.”

  Adam drummed his fingers on the table. “Uh, it kind of is.”

  “Knock it off.” Cade speared Adam with a glare that made his cousin go silent. Then he faced her again. “You’ve been through a lot today. Let’s get you to my place. You can settle in, we’ll order takeout.”

  Realizing Dominique could’ve been killed because of her, she couldn’t even think about eating. “I’m not hungry.”

  “When the adrenaline wears off you will be.” He nodded to the bodyguard, Slone. “I know your shift ends soon. Interested in overtime?”

  “Whatever you need, sir.”

  “Thanks. Knowing you’re there will take the edge off.” Cade wrapped her in his coat once again and kept his arm firmly planted around her waist. The shelter and strength of his tall body at her side eased the trails of fear running through her. “Liam, if you hear from your AV friend, let me know.”

  Liam gave a two finger salute.

  “Adam, if you can follow up on more leads about Ramos’s whereabouts, or further ties to this mystery woman, I’d appreciate it.”

  “You got it, man. Be careful out there.”

  Cade led her back to the elevator. They rode down to the first floor with Slone in tow again. Cade didn’t let go of her. She let herself believe for a second she might be okay.

  Until they exited the building, where a well dressed woman with perfectly coiffed hair stood with a microphone in hand. Surrounded by two cameramen.

  The news trio raced up to them. “Hell, not now.” Cade shoved Kylie behind him and stood like her own personal shield. He addressed the female reporter with steel in his tone. “Miss Rappaport. I thought we rescheduled for tomorrow.”

  Ignoring Cade, she turned to her cameramen. “Are we rolling?” The men nodded. She cleared her throat and pasted an earnest expression onto her face. “Mr. Soren, is it true you’ve recently learned that your father, a well-known bounty hunter, was murdered in Las Vegas five years ago?”

  Cade stiffened. “No comment. If you want to discuss the success of last weekend’s fundraiser, we can do that right now.”

  Blinking at the round lenses of the cameras, Kylie broke into a cold sweat. She flashed back to the weeks following her mother’s gruesome death. The press had hounded her, her sister and her father. Daddy had been the prime suspect, instead of the rich slimy bastard who’d ripped her mother away from their family with the promise of glamour and fame and wealth. She knew who’d killed her mother, and one day she would prove it. But the shock of reliving that dark time in the present moment made her shudder. She gripped the back of Cade’s suit jacket, bunching the expensive fabric between her fingers.

  “Do you believe your father’s death is connected to the recent murder of a motel maid, Maria Sanchez?” Miss Rappaport pressed. “We have it on good authority…”

  Cade murmured over his shoulder to Slone. “Get Kylie out of here. I’ll meet you at my penthouse.”

  A second later Slone whisked her down the sidewa
lk and practically tossed her into the waiting limousine. He slammed the door and pounded on the divider, ordering the driver to leave stat.

  “Damn media,” he muttered.

  Kylie swallowed and glanced out the back window, relieved the press’s focus had remained on Cade. “You’re not a fan either?” she asked.

  “I’d rather shovel camel crap in Afghanistan in a hundred and thirty degrees than face the press.”

  That was an effective analogy. “I respect the profession. I just wish some in the field respected other people’s right to privacy.”

  He huffed a laugh without humor. “Won’t happen in our lifetime. It seems to get worse, more sensational, every day. Real news isn’t interesting, slander sells.”

  “I take it you were on the receiving end of a bad press experience?”

  He stared out the window. “It was a lynch mob.”

  “Did something happen while you were overseas?”

  “Yep.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Let me guess. It’s classified.”

  “Something like that.” He sighed and faced the front of the limo, his stern profile illuminated by passing streetlamps. “I stumbled into this bodyguard gig through an ex-military friend, Logan Stone. He owned the business before the Sorens bought him out. Best decision I ever made. I can use my training, keep people safe, and stay anonymous.”

  The wheels in her mind raced full steam ahead. The detective in her leaped at the chance to learn more about her stoic, quiet defender. To discover what made him tick, why he wanted anonymity, and what had happened to scar him so deeply. Also, she’d like to know what made him suddenly find his voice and open up to her.

  “I saw your reaction,” he said.

  “Pardon?”

  “The fear in your eyes. Not about Ramos but the press bulldozing us. Wanted you to know you’re not alone.”

  His eerie powers of perception stunned her. “I guess with your background and former career, you’re good at reading people.”

  “In Black Ops missions it can be the difference between seeing the next sunrise and seeing the lid of a casket.”

  Intriguing. “Did you retire from the military?”

  “Most don’t retire from Special Forces.” He glanced at her and she saw a whisper of regret in his gray eyes. “You burn out. Then you get a medal, change ranks, and work in a stuffy government office or go into the private sector.”

  “I’m sure you’ve seen unimaginable atrocities.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “I’ve only seen one dead body in person, and I still have nightmares.” The memory at sixteen years old of her mother’s bruised and slashed form on the coroner’s table burned vividly. Daddy had been working at the casino. Mom’s new husband had been conveniently “out of town” on business or something. Lindsey had been too young. So Kylie had identified the body.

  “You’re never the same. But it does get easier,” Slone said.

  No, it didn’t, but she appreciated his attempt to reach out to her on some level. “I look forward to that day.”

  During the rest of the drive to Cade’s home they rode in silence. Within minutes the limo muscled through gridlock traffic and pulled into the portico of a massive high rise. She looked up and couldn’t even see the top of the building. It seemed to reach into the clouds.

  When they entered Slone flashed his ID to the guard at the door, who radioed the front desk to verify that he and Kylie had legitimate cause to be there. Once confirmed, they walked through a second set of doors where a concierge greeted them, dressed in a full suit and tie. He inspected Slone’s license then Kylie’s, typing their information into a computer.

  Awestruck, Kylie peered at the surroundings. Luxury oozed from every corner, understated enough to reek of wealth but without gaudy flourishes. Glass, silver, well-placed mirrors, crown molding and contemporary lines gave the atrium a handsome polish. Three giant chandeliers reflected their glitter onto spotless black marble floors.

  “Miss?”

  Slone nudged her with his elbow.

  “Yes? Oh, thanks.” She took the key card, and an actual key, that the concierge handed her.

  “The private transport to the penthouse level is to the left of the regular elevators,” the concierge said with a pleasant smile.

  Gripping the key, she felt the jagged metal warm in her palm. She followed Slone to a fifth elevator tucked in a room behind the main four.

  “Insert the key and turn it to the left, Kylie,” Slone said.

  She pushed it into the slot beside the elevator panel. Then she hit the circular button.

  How could she feel so numb? So easily guided by a near stranger? She trusted Slone, but with the news about Ramos, Dominique, and the camera crew invading her personal space she felt disoriented, confused, uncertain about everything.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she said when the elevator doors opened. She wanted to go home, curl up in her bed, and escape everything until the nightmare ended. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

  “It’s okay, Kylie. You’re safe. I promise.” Slone’s voice held calm encouragement. “I’ve got your back.”

  With wooden steps, she forced herself to enter the elevator. She scraped her nails nervously along the fabric handle of her laptop case. The doors opened into a large u-shaped hallway with four doors, one at each corner.

  Slone held the elevator to keep it from closing. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Just walk out of the elevator, one foot in front of the other. Good. You’re doing great.”

  An old sense of trauma and bone-deep fatigue engulfed her. Why did she feel like a child? Like someone had to tell her what to do, how to move forward? She’d always been the strong one. “I’m fine,” she insisted.

  Still, Slone cupped her shoulder and guided her to Penthouse B. He slid the keycard in and withdrew it quickly. A green light blinked and the door unlocked. Slone pressed on the handle and they walked inside.

  Slate stone tiled the entryway. The lights came on automatically, a soft glow that brightened steadily to reveal an expanse of hardwood floors the length and width of six bowling lanes. She watched as recessed spotlights flickered on one by one, illuminating Cade’s home, highlighting works of contemporary art, the immaculate space coming into view as gradually as a sunrise.

  “Do lights really come on like that?” she asked.

  “I guess when you’re worth a billion dollars, lights can do whatever you want them to,” Slone replied.

  “You’ve never been in Cade’s home?”

  “Not until today.”

  The automatic lights illuminated Cade’s spacious living room. An expensive art gallery came to mind. All white walls, hardwood floors, the scents of earthy cologne and wealth permeating the space. Everything looked immaculate, not a single fingerprint on the glass top coffee table, its base made from sun-bleached driftwood with unique twists and turns in the wood’s natural formation. Black leather couches framed a lush area rug that looked like soft white sand she longed to sink her toes into.

  The ripple of turquoise water reflecting through a frosted glass door soothed her tension, reminding her of a dreamy escape. Maybe he had a pool?

  Beneath an enormous flat screen television on the living room wall, a fireplace roared to life. An embedded fireplace that turned on when you walked through the door?

  Awestruck, she shook her head. “I didn’t even know these things existed.”

  “Considering this level of luxury, you know Cade can afford to keep you protected, no matter the cost.”

  Hope tugged inside her. She couldn’t believe she stood in the security of a high-rise penthouse in the Rocky Mountains. The view must be incredible from here.

  Suddenly, Slone paused. His arm shot out in front of her. “Did you hear that?”

  Yes… An odd scraping sound echoed down the hallway. A ripple of tension traveled through his extended arm.

  A flash of anxi
ety prickled over her skin followed by a wash of goose bumps. “But there’s no way anyone knows I’m—”

  “Hush,” he hissed.

  Without a sound he unlatched a small cylinder from his belt loop, and pressed it into her palm. “Just in case.”

  Holding it up to the light, she identified a small container of mace. One less item on her to-buy list.

  On silent footsteps Slone edged around the corner, his hand poised over the handle of a gun she hadn’t noticed beneath his leather jacket. The man wasn’t messing around.

  Instead of staying put as his gesture had indicated, she trailed behind him. A swath of light spilled into the hallway from the second door on the left. The one Cade described as the guestroom. My room. She gulped.

  Creeping up to the lit room, Slone slid the gun from his holster. Without warning he slammed the door open.

  “Oh!” A shriek came from inside. “Good God, Slone. You startled me.” The female voice sounded upbeat, welcoming, right at home.

  Wait… was this her home? Could she be Cade’s girlfriend? Or more? Possibly his fiancée?

  As Kylie stepped into the room behind Slone, another prickly flash swept over her. It was absolutely one hundred percent not jealousy. Or disappointment. She was positive.

  Finding a beautiful woman in Cade’s penthouse rifling through the guestroom closet provided one more unexpected event in a day filled with shocking surprises. Kylie’s chest clenched with an achy flutter. She wasn’t sure how many more surprises she could stand.

  Clearly, Slone knew the woman and accepted that she’d be in Cade’s penthouse. He lowered his gun wearing a relieved expression. “Damn, Cade could’ve told me you’d be here.”

  “Kylie?” The petite blonde woman approached her. “We’re very glad you’re here.”

  This girl was so earnest and lovely. Instantly, Kylie felt a crushing sense of guilt for being even the slightest bit attracted to Cade. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

  “Letting you?” She laughed with genuine sweetness. “Cade is happy you’re here. He wants you to be safe under his roof.”

  At the woman’s open-armed acceptance, Kylie’s guilt compounded. “I don’t want to make a rift between you. I hope you know that’s not my intention.”