Billionaire Decoded

by Nella Tyler

  The thought left him feeling depressed. He wouldn't be able to move on, not really, not with Alyson in the picture. She would drive away any woman he was interested in. Just because Heather had held her ground the first time she butted heads with Alyson didn't mean that she would be willing to put up with her crap indefinitely. Who would? He knew that if she weren’t a half-partner in the business, he would've kicked her to the curb a long time ago. And then there was the baby.

  He pushed his thoughts away from Alyson and back to his Bolivian issues. Had they been involved in following him or Heather up here? He contemplated the thought, tried to figure out a reason for it, and then decided it couldn't be them. They had no interest in him, other than to make sure he keeps his end of the deal. He had agreed to that. That wasn't to say that other contacts didn't have an interest in putting a stop to his activities. He had business dealings with people from around the world: Southeast Asia, the Middle East, and a few in Africa. He also had dealings with numerous contacts in Western European countries.

  He sighed heavily. Was it time to get out? Was it time to reinvent himself? When he first started trading and selling secrets, he thought he had been doing what was right. Now, he wasn't so sure. Why the sudden change of heart?

  He knew why. Heather. While Alyson had egged him on and encouraged him to get involved in such activities, he knew that Heather didn't approve.

  He thought a moment. Why the hell did he care what Heather thought? He still didn’t know her very well. But he cared about her, about her opinion of him. He had been telling her the truth when he told her that he didn't care to indulge in one-night stands. If he were thinking of getting involved with someone, he would take that connection seriously. He had slept with dozens of women, but that was in the past. Before Alyson. Besides, as the years passed and things got so complicated, he had less time for indulging in sexual encounters than he had enjoyed when he was a SEAL.

  Now, unfortunately, he was suspicious of everybody. He trusted no one. Did he trust Heather? He hoped to God he could because he had divulged his secret to her. Or one of them, at least. As he neared the airfield, he realized that he shouldn’t have told her. That had been unfair. But there was something about her that compelled him to try, for once, to be honest. Then again, he hadn't been completely honest, had he? He hadn't told her about the baby. He hadn't told her how threatening Alyson could be when crossed or how dangerous.

  The truth was he didn't want to drag Heather into his messes. He didn't want to see her disappear. He didn’t want to see the disappointment on her face, to watch her turning her back on him. He felt drawn to her in a way that was not just sexual, but intellectual and mental.

  He couldn't understand it, but wasn't about to waste time trying to figure it out. Was there really such a thing as a soul mate? It sounded corny even as he thought it. The same went for the phrase falling in love at first sight. But he had to admit that the moment he laid eyes on Heather, he'd wanted her. Not just sexually. No doubt she was incredibly attractive, but attractive women had come and gone through his life in the past and none of them, not even Alyson, had the effect on him that Heather did. It went deeper than the physical. She touched his core, his soul. He made a face. More corny thoughts.

  He drove onto the airfield; carefully checking in his rearview and side view mirrors to make sure no one was following him. He walked casually up to the rental desk to return his car and then carefully checked the few people seated inside the main terminal waiting for their flights. Nothing suspicious.

  Still, he had a niggling feeling that he was being watched. Who it was that was doing the watching and why, he wasn't sure, but he didn't like it. He pulled out his cell phone and speed dialed.

  "Are we ready?"

  "Yes, sir," came the reply.

  He walked outside of the airport terminal and made his way to the private hangars. It was quiet and he was the only one walking around out here. About one hundred yards away, past two private corporate Leer jets, he saw the helicopter emblazoned with his logo. What he needed to do was get back to his office and try to coordinate with his security team to figure out who in the hell was behind this latest unpleasant episode in his life. The problem was there were at least half a dozen contacts that he could think of just off the top of his head that would benefit if something happened to him.

  But why drag Heather into it? That's what he didn't understand. She was a relatively minor cog in the workings of his business. She wasn't at all involved in any of his less-than-legal business dealings. So, who would want to target her? Of course, his mind instantly veered back to Alyson, but he doubted that she would waste her energy on Heather, either.

  He climbed into the helicopter, put on his headset, and gestured for the pilot to take off whenever he was ready. In a matter of minutes, the helicopter was airborne and heading back south to Boston. Brecken knew that he could go around and around trying to figure out how he or Heather had been followed, but decided that he couldn't do anything about it until he got back to his office, anyway.

  He closed his eyes with a sigh. He felt so tired. And why shouldn't he be? His spur of the moment trip up to New Hampshire had been decided without a good night's sleep the night before, and last night he had laid awake beside Heather for most of the night, just relishing the scent of her hair, the feel of her body next to his, remembering over and over again how wonderful their love making session had been. He had been aroused most of the night, and just before dawn had quietly left the bedroom and stepped into the bathroom to take care of his horny dick on his own.

  He had returned to the room just as dawn began to brighten the eastern sky, enjoying just watching her sleep before he had moved to stand by the window. He didn't know how long the man had been standing out there, but as the sun rose and separated shadows from trees, shrubs, and telephone poles, he had seen him. The sight of him had gotten his heart rate going. Heather had seen the same man following her. He was tall and wore a dark suit. It had taken all of his self-control not to race downstairs and confront him. He had learned that lesson a long time ago. Often, patience was the key to reaching his goals. The end game. His impetuous days were over, or so he liked to think.

  Once again, his thoughts veered to Alyson. She had come close to ruining him. Not financially, but in the way he thought about things. The way he acted. To say that Alyson had taught him a lesson was an understatement. The thought that somebody could alter his personality, his behaviors, and his attitudes so completely was staggering.

  Come to think of it, though, wasn't he feeling much the same way about Heather? Just a little while ago, he had wondered whether it was time to move on and that was something he wouldn't have contemplated before he met her. He hadn’t been interested in looking for another woman, another affair, or another relationship. He shook his head. What the hell was going on? He wasn't old enough to be hit with a midlife crisis. First Alyson and now Heather, but at two different emotional spectrums. Since when did a woman, any woman, have that much influence over him?

  By the time the helicopter landed on the top of his building and he made his way down to his office, he had developed quite a foul mood. He had to think about his next actions. He had to concentrate and focus. Someone was sending him a message. The tall man that had been following Heather was meant to serve as a message. But what was the message? Someone had called Heather, given her the warning about working for a traitor. Someone had doctored the photograph to show Heather with a broken arm, her eyes crossed out. What did it all mean? Why focus on her?

  The only possibility that he could think of that would make anyone focus on Heather was his own attraction to her. Maybe someone thought he was sharing secrets with her. Secrets that they didn’t want to get out. But who would know about his clandestine activities? Alyson? His security team? Why would Alyson bother? She could just drive Heather out of the office like she had his past two relatively recent female employees. Still, what she would she have to gain from it? Alyson
made no bones about threatening him in public, verbally, and with text messages. Why go to all this trouble to ward him off? To ward Heather off?

  That was the bottom line. What would Alyson have to gain? The truth was, nothing. Why should she care about an employee in the billing department? Heather didn't have access to his other set of books – the set of books that he alone controlled. Alyson hadn't even had access to that other set of books. Or his hidden computer files. They were hidden deep in disguised packets in his computer, accessible only by a retina scan. So what in the hell would Alyson have to gain?

  He finally came to one conclusion. Alyson didn't need a reason for anything she did. Still, this latest series of events, coupled with the situation down in Bolivia, had Brecken worried. As far as he knew, Alyson was no longer aware of exactly with whom he did business. Then again, she could pretty much finagle information out of anybody. All she had to do was flash a tit, lick her lips, or rub up against you, and you were pretty much at her mercy.

  Was she going behind his back? Was she following him and making contacts of her own? Alyson might be crazy but she wasn’t stupid. She had been involved with his nefarious business dealings with certain clients from the get go. If she was really pissed at him, why didn’t she just blab to the authorities? He knew why, because she was still involved, in some capacity.

  Shit.

  That wasn’t good. When they were together, he had been able to rein in Alyson’s impetuosity, to a degree. Operating on her own there was no telling how much damage she could do.

  Would she really go that far to destroy him? He didn't think her behavior was aimed at destruction, but rather capitulation. She wanted him back. He didn't think she wanted him dead. After all, her insistence that she was carrying his baby and that he would be a father to that baby, didn't imply that she was threatening his life. Still, she could make him miserable. She could bring him to his knees in other ways. Ways that he didn't care to contemplate.

  Like it or not, Alyson was not to be underestimated. He decided that tonight he would call her and ask her directly whether she was having Heather, or him, followed. If she was, he had no doubt that she would gloat about it. She might even try to lie and imply that she wasn’t involved, but he would know. He always knew when Alyson was lying. She could wear a mask and he would still know.

  His phone dinged. A text message. With a sigh, and just hoping that it wasn't Alyson, he pulled it from his pocket.

  I know what's happening. I can help you.

  He frowned. It wasn't from Alyson. He didn't recognize the number from which the text message had been sent. Very few people had his private number and he knew theirs. He returned a text message of his own.

  Who the hell is this?

  A minute later he received a reply.

  An old friend. Hoo-yah

  Brecken smiled. Now, he knew. Daniel Briggs. One of his former SEAL buddies, someone hadn't seen in years. He smiled, but then his smile faded. How in the hell had Briggs gotten his number? What was he referring to? Another text message arrived.

  Set the time and the place.

  Brecken sighed. He was tired. What was Briggs implying? What was he referring to? Bolivia? Nigeria? Singapore? Brecken had his fingers stirring a number of pots. Which exact pot was Briggs talking about? He supposed he wouldn't know until he set up a meeting and talked to his old friend. Maybe it was a good idea to meet.

  Copley Square. Tonight. Eight o'clock.

  He didn't receive an answering text, but didn't really expect to. While he was certainly pleased to hear from any of his old Navy SEAL buddies, he had to wonder at the timing. Coincidence? Or something more? He had known Briggs for ten years. He had been a good soldier. A smart soldier. Not long after Brecken left the SEALs, Briggs had, as well. The last thing he knew, Briggs was working oil rigs down in Texas. He had heard through the grape vine that Briggs occasionally took jobs as a bodyguard, but certainly nothing black ops, as far as he was aware of. Then again, he hadn't heard from him in the last couple of years.

  So why now? Brecken didn't believe in coincidences. Briggs had intimated that he knew about his troubles. Which troubles? He had more than enough to go around. He didn't talk about his business dealings with many people, and there were only a very few people that knew about even some of his dealings. Himself and the person involved at the other end. They were either secret keepers or the secret revealers.

  What the hell could Briggs be referring to? He knew he wouldn't be able to determine that until he met with him, so he spent the rest of his afternoon and early evening catching up on work that always needed to be done. Most of what he dealt with over the hours involved his legitimate business, the computer programming side. Nevertheless, despite his attempts to focus and concentrate, his thoughts continued to spin. Alyson. Heather. Briggs. The tall man that had been following Heather, or following him, through Heather. The more his mind went around and around, the more frustrated he became. So annoying.

  *

  At seven-thirty, Brecken put his work away. He hadn't been able to concentrate very much and would have to look over everything in the morning to make sure he hadn't made any mistakes. He couldn't afford to make mistakes in any aspect of his dealings, even the legitimate ones. He prepared to leave the building and meet Briggs. The Square wasn't too far from his office building, so decided that he would walk. His driver was on twenty-four hour standby, and he would give him a call to pick him up from the Square and take him home after he met with his old buddy.

  As he left the building, he carefully watched bystanders and passersbys. He didn't see the tall man who had been taking pictures of Heather. When he thought of Heather, his first thought was of her lovely body. His dick began to tighten. He pushed those images away. His second thought why she hadn't called him, especially after their abrupt departure from the countryside this morning.

  Still, he didn't want to give anyone listening an indication that she meant anything to him, especially if he was being watched, so he decided he would just have to be patient and wait for her to contact him. He knew his security guards. They wouldn’t call unless something was wrong. He knew that if they needed something, or if something had happened, they would contact him. Otherwise, there was no point.

  By the time he got to the Square, it was full dark. Once again, he carefully checked the area. He didn't see anyone suspicious looking. There was an elderly couple, walking hand in hand, and talking quietly with each other. He stared at them for several moments, envious. Would he ever find a partner like that? A partner to grow old with? A partner that he could trust implicitly?

  He made a face and shook his head. What the hell was the matter with him? He was turning into a pantywaist. He sat down on a wrought iron and wooden slatted bench a short distance away from one of the antique lamps that still graced the Square. About fifteen feet away was a fountain, maybe six or seven feet across made of cement, with a figure of some old Norse or Greek god, he wasn't sure. A stream of water dribbled out of the figure’s mouth, bubbling softly as it dribbled down the statue’s naked figure, its privates hidden discreetly behind some leaves.

  He frowned, not liking the way the water disguised the ambient sounds around him. He should move, but he didn’t. More than likely, Briggs was out there somewhere, watching to make sure no one was around. If he suddenly changed position, Briggs might get suspicious, think that someone was watching him. He would leave. And Brecken needed Briggs to show up. His curiosity was getting the best of him.

  He needed to know what Briggs was talking about. His old friend was gifted in many ways, and not just because of his Navy SEAL background. Like Brecken, Briggs had been raised by a wealthy family. Unfortunately, that family had cut him out of their life when he turned to the military as a career rather than the family business. It was a silly reason as far as Brecken was concerned, to cut a child out of the family over such a stupid reason, but there you have it. At any rate, Briggs had started over, made a new life for himself
in the Navy.

  Briggs was, or had been at least, one of those people that always landed on his feet. No matter what knocked him down in life, he always managed to escape unscathed, maybe a little battered and bruised, but certainly not cowed. That was what Brecken had liked so much about his old friend. Nothing could keep him down.

  He glanced at his watch. Five minutes to eight. He tried to appear relaxed, just another guy resting on a bench, passing the time. Suddenly, a shadow separated itself from the darkness nearby and in sat down on the bench beside Brecken. Brecken glanced at the man, grinned, and extended his hand.

  "Long time no see," Briggs said, returning the grin and clasping Brecken's hand tightly.

  Brecken was surprised at the emotion that surged through him. He hadn't seen any of his old buddies in quite some time. Seeing Briggs reminded him of the unique camaraderie, the sense of belonging and acceptance he had felt as a SEAL. The special relationship combat veterans shared. There was a bond among brothers in arms that was like no other. His team had lived together, endured together, fought together, and suffered together. There was not much that could break such a bond besides time and distance.

  "How you been doing, Briggs?" Brecken smiled.

  To his surprise, Briggs scooted a little bit closer to him on the park bench. Then, still smiling, he broke the handclasp and leaned forward. He began to chuckle as he pulled something from his pocket. In the next instant, Brecken felt something hard pressed against his rib cage. He frowned.

  "Get up slowly, Brecken, and don't try anything funny."

  He stared at Briggs. Was this some kind of a stupid joke? "What the hell, Briggs?"

  "Do it, Brecken."

  Brecken stood, his mind racing. What the hell was going on? He tried to maintain a sense of calm as Briggs gestured toward a dark sedan that pulled up and parked at the curb about fifty yards away. "What's going on, Briggs?"