The Wicked Billionaire--A Billionaire SEAL Romance

by Jackie Ashenden

  The lookout he’d spotted earlier had paused to talk to someone, but the guy kept staring in his and Grace’s direction, so he kept moving, walking unhurriedly, like he and Grace were going on an afternoon’s stroll together.

  He’d parked the big black Harley he preferred to ride not far away, letting Grace go as he paused to extract his helmet from his saddlebags. “Put this on,” he instructed, handing it to her.

  She blinked as she took it, glancing down at it, then at him. “What about you?”

  “I only brought one with me.”

  “But—”

  “Put it on, Grace. We need to get the hell out of here.”

  Her jaw tightened, but she did what he said, securing the strap of the fringed black leather purse she carried over one shoulder before jamming the helmet down on her head. Her hair looked incongruous sticking out from beneath the shiny black helmet, long pretty, red-gold strands blowing around in the cold wind as she awkwardly tried to get on the bike. He held out his hand to her automatically to help her, and she took it, equally automatically.

  Once, at a barbecue Griffin had invited him to, Grace had handed him a beer and her fingers had brushed his. The contact hadn’t been intentional, but as soon as he’d touched her skin he’d felt something pass right through him, a fine current like static electricity. He’d found it disturbing then and had made sure to keep his distance from her afterwards.

  He should have remembered. Because as her long fingers closed around his, he felt the same thing happen again, that sharp, electric thrill passing over his skin. It was so unexpected and unwelcome, he almost dropped her hand.

  She didn’t react, still struggling with getting on the bike, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her dress rode up as she tried to settle herself. Her legs were very long and slender, encased in black tights and strange old-fashioned-looking boots. In fact, her whole outfit was pretty strange, with a leather coat and the gold dress she wore underneath it. Thrift-store clothes probably, given the worn look of the coat and slightly frayed hem of the dress.

  Grace either liked shopping at thrift stores, which, given her general Bohemian kind of vibe, was likely, or she didn’t have much money. Or maybe it was both.

  She had her head turned toward him now, her helmet obscuring her expression, and when she pulled her hand out of his he realized he’d been standing there staring at her a touch too long.

  Christ. What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t the time to be standing there, remembering barbecues of yesteryear and pondering her goddamn clothing choices.

  Vaguely annoyed at himself, Lucas tugged his keys from his pocket, then got on the bike himself. “Hold on to me,” he ordered tersely, jamming the key into the ignition and starting the bike. The engine roared into life, adrenaline flooding through him the way it always did whenever he heard the sound.

  Lucas didn’t allow himself many indulgences, it was too dangerous, as he’d learned to his cost. But riding his Harley was one of them. There was something about the speed, about the wind on his face, about the ground passing beneath him, that made him feel as close to free as he ever got.

  Except it wasn’t about freedom now. It was about getting Grace to safety.

  Her hands settled uncertainly on his hips and thank fuck he was wearing leather, because the pressure of her palms had his heart skipping a beat.

  Which never, ever happened. He had perfect physical control over himself. As one of the best snipers in the business, it was vital that he did. He could slow his heart rate down to thirty beats per minute, allowing him to squeeze the trigger in between heartbeats so he could get the perfect shot.

  His heart did not race when he did not want it to and it most certainly never skipped.

  Fuck’s sake. He never let women get to him, not that any woman ever had. When he wanted sex he had it, choosing partners who liked being told what to do and who didn’t mind him being in charge, and who expected nothing from him after it was over.

  Sometimes even when he wanted sex, he denied himself purely to maintain that control. Refusing to let himself be at the mercy of his physical desires. Of any desires, quite frankly. He kept himself cold as ice and that was the way he liked it.

  He didn’t want that ice to be threatened simply because a woman he didn’t even like put her hands on his hips.

  Think of it as a test.

  Actually, yes. That was the perfect way to think about it. The pull he felt around her, the fascination, the strange electricity of her touch, it was all merely a test of his control. Hell, he was good at tests. He tended to pass them all with flying colors and this one would be no different.

  Ignoring the ridiculousness of his heartbeat, Lucas kicked up the bike stand and took off into the traffic, glancing in his wing mirror as he did so to check on the lookout. The guy had his head turned in their direction, watching them, and Lucas could see a frown on his face.

  Good. Now to see if anyone followed them.

  Grace’s grip on him had firmed as he sped through the traffic, her body pressing up against his back as if she was afraid of falling off. The heat of her seeped through his motorcycle leathers, making his earlier vague annoyance gather even tighter. Her long legs were pressed to the outside of his, and if he concentrated hard he could feel another, deeper heat centered against his tailbone. The heat between her thighs—

  Someone pulled out in front of him all of a sudden and he had to swerve to avoid them, cursing under his breath. Jesus, why the hell was he concentrating on the feel of her body when he should be concentrating on whether or not someone was following them?

  As far as tests go, you’re failing this one.

  Fuck.

  Lucas never had to force himself to concentrate on a task. So why the hell he kept getting distracted by Grace sitting behind him was anyone’s guess.

  But getting annoyed wasn’t going to help, so he did what he normally did with all inconvenient emotions. He ignored it as through it weren’t there.

  Instead he went back to the plan he’d been formulating over the past three days of Grace Riley reconnaissance. Since taking out her potential attackers before she even realized she was in danger wasn’t going to happen now, he needed to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere they wouldn’t find her.

  The most obvious place, not to mention the safest, was his own apartment in SoHo, which wasn’t all that far away from the gallery she’d been visiting. Of course she probably wouldn’t want to go there immediately and would probably be very unhappy if he took her there without her permission.

  Still, if that was the safest place … Then again, gaining her trust was going to be important if he was going to protect her adequately, so maybe taking her back to her own apartment and explaining the situation better than he had in the bar was the best scenario.

  Once he’d explained and she understood the reality of what was happening, she’d see the sense in going back to his place. Being at her apartment to start with would have the added bonus of her being able to gather some belongings together to take with her too. Women tended to like having their own stuff around them.

  Satisfied with the plan, Lucas glanced in his wing mirror again, but there didn’t appear to be anyone following them. Not that he expected anyone to. The fact that there was a lookout back near that art gallery told Lucas that whoever was after Grace already knew her movements. Which meant they also probably knew where she lived.

  Going back to her apartment wasn’t perhaps the best idea in that case, but he hadn’t seen any threats in the area while he’d been following her, which meant either they didn’t have someone watching the apartment or they were very, very good at evading Lucas’s notice.

  Whatever, Lucas wasn’t planning on being at her apartment long anyway. They’d go back to his place tonight and he could keep her there until he figured out what he was going to do about the people who were after her. Narrow down which asshole it was in particular for example.

  The traffic from SoHo to th
e East Village was light and it didn’t take them all that long until he was pulling up outside Grace’s apartment building. He parked the bike and got off, reaching out to help her. But she ignored his hand completely, slipping off by herself, then getting rid of the helmet, her hair falling over her face as she did so. Her cheeks were flushed again and she didn’t look at him as she shoved the helmet in his direction, turning toward the front door of the apartment building. She didn’t wait for him either, moving quickly up the front steps and entering the code to get inside.

  He narrowed his gaze after her. What was the problem now? Was she afraid? Because if so, he didn’t blame her. Having arms dealers after you wasn’t exactly a picnic. But it would be fine now he was here. He’d protect her. It was his job after all.

  Keeping hold of the helmet, he strode after her, only just catching the door as she let it swing shut behind her, then following her over to a bank of elevators that looked like they hadn’t been serviced in decades.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as she jabbed the button several times.

  “I’m fine.” She was holding on to the strap of her purse with rather more force than was strictly necessary.

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “Well, obviously not. I’ve just been told that terrorists are after me because my husband was apparently a gunrunner. How fine would you be?”

  “They’re not terrorists and Griffin wasn’t technically a gunrunner. He was—”

  “I’m not interested in the technicalities, Lucas.” She still wasn’t looking at him, her gaze on the numbers above the elevator, currently counting down to the first floor. “All I’m interested in is getting home. Thanks for the ride, but I think I can take it from here.”

  * * *

  She didn’t want to look at him, not even a glimpse. Mainly because her whole body was buzzing with a strange kind of energy and she had no idea how to handle it. She’d thought getting on the back of that bike wouldn’t be a problem. No, she hadn’t particularly wanted to go with him when he’d taken her arm, but the tension that had gathered around him had somehow stolen her resistance. She had no doubt that he’d meant every word he’d said when he’d ordered her to be quiet and do as she was told, making her sense of self-preservation kick in and do exactly that.

  Hell, she’d even kind of liked it as he’d steered her across the street as if he had complete and utter control of the situation and nothing would happen that he didn’t want.

  Normally, she hated it when someone else took charge—certainly Griffin never did—but there was something about Lucas’s seriousness and the way he’d handled her that she’d found … reassuring almost. As if there was no question that she would trust him and that she could, completely.

  Then there had been the bike. She’d never ridden a motorcycle, but she wasn’t opposed to them per se, even though getting on the thing had been awkward as hell. Until he’d reached out and she’d grabbed his hand, and then things had suddenly gotten a whole lot more awkward.

  Because that’s when she’d felt it, that energy. Like a small, localized bolt of lightning had sizzled up her arm the moment his fingers had closed around hers. His hand had felt warm against her skin and the contrast with his icy manner was so extreme that she hadn’t known how to take it.

  And then it had gotten even worse, because then she’d had to hold on to him. She’d had to put her hands on his leather-clad hips and, as he’d taken off into the traffic, she’d had to press herself up against his back purely so she didn’t fall off.

  Then things had gotten really weird. And disturbing. Because in her mind he was cold and she’d expected holding on to him would be like holding on to a marble statue. Hard and stone-cold. Yet it wasn’t.

  He was hot, so freaking hot, all that heat soaking through his motorcycle leathers and into her. He was hard too—that much she had been right about—but it wasn’t an unpleasant hardness at all. There was a solidity to him, a kind of athletic, muscular power that had her palms itching again, to touch him, see if he really was as muscular and solid as he felt.

  The combination made her breath catch, made that energy sing through her. Made her feel restless in a way she hadn’t experienced before. It was profoundly disturbing and she’d wanted to stop the bike and get off it and away from him as quickly as possible.

  But she hadn’t been able to. She was stuck there as they’d raced through the traffic, with her thighs spread on either side of his lean hips, the heat of him pressed right between her legs.

  You know what you’re feeling. Don’t pretend you don’t.

  Grace swallowed and concentrated on the numbers above the elevator and not on the voice in her head. She didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to feel it either, not for a guy like him. He was Griffin’s friend, for God’s sake, and anyway, he wasn’t her type, end of story.

  He didn’t say anything, standing there in his characteristic still way, but she could feel his gaze on her all the same.

  She tried to ignore it, muttering a silent prayer of thanks as the elevator chimed and the doors opened. “Thanks, Lucas,” she said, stepping into the elevator and reaching for the button to close the doors. “Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

  But he clearly wasn’t getting her hint, because instead of turning around and walking away like she hoped, he stepped into the elevator with her, even going so far as to hit the button for her floor.

  Her heartbeat began to race and she felt the strangest urge to bolt from the elevator car and try the stairs instead. Because when those doors closed, she would be trapped in this tiny space with … him.

  Crap.

  “I meant it, you know.” She was annoyed to find that she’d moved to the back of the elevator car as if to put distance between them. “You don’t have to come back to my apartment. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. I’m kind of not up for guests right now.”

  “I understand that.” He made no move to leave, simply standing there as the doors shut. “But what you don’t seem to understand is that your life is under serious threat. Believe me, I have no interest in coming to your apartment right now, but you’re in danger, which means I’m not going anywhere until that danger has been neutralized.”

  The elevator jolted and began to rise, and Grace cursed silently in her head, because it was as bad as she’d thought. He seemed to fill up the entirety of the space with his tall, lean, rangy presence. And now it felt different from before. Now she knew how hot he was underneath all that leather and how hard. How back on his bike, with her hands on his hips and her pressed up against him, he’d felt like a man and not an icy-eyed statue or beautiful avenging angel.

  For the first time too, she was aware of his scent, a fresh, clean kind of smell, with something warm underneath it, like leather or spice. It wasn’t what she expected and she was appalled to find she liked it. Very much.

  The energy moving restlessly around inside her seemed to intensify.

  Grace leaned against the rear of the elevator, trying to look like she wasn’t trying to put as much space between them as she could. “So what? You’re just going to hang around like a bodyguard or something?”

  “Pretty much.” He was holding his helmet in one hand, his long fingers curled around the mouth guard, and she found herself staring at the small, white scars on them and wondering how he’d gotten them.

  Jesus, she was going insane, wasn’t she?

  “What if I don’t want you to?” She couldn’t seem to keep the edge out of her voice. “Don’t I get a say?”

  “No.” The word was flat and very cold, the chill in his gaze as he looked at her almost palpable. “Unless you want to die.”

  “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” She hadn’t meant to say it, but it just came out, and then she wished she hadn’t because it made it sound like she cared what he thought of her and she didn’t. At all.

  His blond brows drew down fractionally as if the question mystified him. “Stupid? No, I
don’t think you’re stupid. What the hell makes you think that?”

  Great. And now she felt stupid too.

  “The way you’re looking at me.” A note of defensiveness had crept into her voice, which was irritating. “And the way you’re talking to me like I’m a kid and ignoring everything I say.”

  The expression on his beautiful face didn’t change. “Don’t take it personally. I treat everyone that way.”

  Was that … a joke? She honestly couldn’t tell.

  “And how’s that working out for you?” she snapped. “I bet you have a lot of friends.”

  “My team has no complaints.”

  “So there’s basically nothing I can say that’s going to get rid of you.”

  His gaze focused on her intently for a second. “I’m here to protect you, Grace. Why would you want to get rid of me?”

  Heat began to rise into her cheeks and she had to glance away from him. That intent look was doing stupid things to her heartbeat that she really didn’t appreciate. How annoying.

  “The people after you are part of a massive arms ring,” he went on in that implacable way he had. Like a glacier moving, slow and cold and indifferent. “They’re not the kind of people you want to get on the wrong side of. Griffin took their money and now they want it back and they will do anything they can to get it. And if that means taking you hostage, then sending pieces of you back to our government in exchange for ransom money, then that’s what they’ll do.”

  The fear that had been sitting in her gut suddenly grew sharp frozen spines, digging into her.

  “Thanks for that little image,” she said, hoping her voice sounded sarcastic and steady and not all thin and weak. “I really needed to hear that.”

  “You did need to hear it.” There was no sympathy at all in the words. “Because if you’re not shit scared you should be.”

  Mercifully, at that moment the elevator chimed and came to a halt, the doors sliding open. Grace made a dash for the exit, only to be stopped in her tracks by Lucas’s powerful arm blocking the doorway.