DASH: A Secret Billionaire Romance

by Lucy Lambert

  Sleep smoothed all the worries and concerns from her face, leaving behind the beauty that I took a few minutes to admire.

  We were both still naked beneath the sheet, and I became aware of that when her bare hip brushed against mine. She was warm, her skin soft and smooth. The sheet molded to the twin swells of her breasts, which rose and fell steadily with her breaths.

  I became so fascinated by her body that I didn’t notice the change in her breathing.

  “A picture will last longer,” she said.

  I rolled onto my side and propped my elbow on my pillow and my chin on my hand. My stubble, longer now, prickled at my palm.

  “Do you have a camera? And besides, a picture pales in comparison to the real thing.” I put my hand on the sheet covering her stomach. Her breath caught at my touch in a way that sent thrums of longing down the lowest part of my stomach.

  “You’re so quick with words,” she said.

  “You’re not so slow, yourself.”

  I let my hand slide down a little farther, exploring, wishing that the sheet might disappear.

  “I remember more about you now. More about back then,” she said. Then she grabbed my hand and pulled it back up to the spot where it started on her stomach.

  That only inflamed me further, but I tried putting my passion aside for the moment.

  “Me too,” I said. Where is this going?

  I found out.

  She also rolled onto her side, mirroring me with her cheek pressed into one supporting hand. The movement pulled the sheet away from her body provocatively, exposing more of her delicious self.

  “What I want to know is,” she started, her eyes fixing on mine, “Who are you now, Dash?”

  The billion dollar question.

  A joke was my first instinct. Humor covered up so much with so little effort.

  But the joke died on my lips. I could see it in her eyes: nothing would do but the truth. The real truth. The truth that sent me running from New York in search of… I don’t know what, but I suspected that it waited for me here in Pleasant.

  I swallowed against sudden tightness in my throat. It didn’t help, since that tightness pervaded my entire body.

  I took a deep breath and then sighed it out. Ellie didn’t say anything, perhaps guessing that if she did I might find some excuse to not carry through with the telling.

  Another deep breath. This time no sigh. No, I needed that one for words.

  “My name really is Dash. Dashiell, actually. My mom liked old detective novels, I guess. My full name is Dashiell Beaumont. Up until about seven months ago I ran a conglomerate called Beaumont Industries. A business that made a business of owning other businesses, basically. Of course, back then I shaved more often and kept my hair much, much shorter. I had an image to maintain as CEO…”

  I left out the part about Beaumont Industries’ most recent stock evaluation, which placed the company’s worth in terms of billions of dollars and millions of shares.

  Her eyes widened in sudden realization. Her hand shot out and grabbed mine, squeezing. Her palm was warm and soft. “The news! My God, everyone thinks you were kidnapped! The FBI is looking for you!”

  “I didn’t exactly leave under the best of circumstances. I just took some cash I had on hand, hopped on an old bike I’d been restoring, and left it all behind,” I grinned an unhappy grin, “Every now and then I did catch some news. The company’s valuation actually went up. The celebrity effect, I guess. Everyone wants a piece of the action.”

  It wasn’t enough for Ellie. She looked curious. And concerned. No one had looked at me with such sincere concern in… I couldn’t remember the last time.

  “But why, Dash? I don’t understand.”

  I took another breath. This time when I let it out my body shuddered a little. When Ellie noticed she squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.

  “My mother. She passed. We’d been supposed to get together for a few months, but I kept putting it off. I always had some good reason. A business acquisition, a shareholder meeting, something like that, and she always accepted it.

  “But the real reason was that I couldn’t bring myself to see her anymore. She reminded me too much of where I came from and who I used to be, and I didn’t want to remember. So I shut her out. I think that she knew, but she never said anything. And then she got sick and she never said anything to me about that, either. Though I think she tried.” I thought about all the calls from her that I ignored.

  My breath ran out around there. It felt like my stomach wanted to do a complete 360 inside of me. My arms and legs tingled, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  I hadn’t shared this story with anyone, not even really myself.

  Ellie waited. She could sense that I needed to finish. She looked so lovely, with her hair spilling over her shoulders. In the early morning light her eyes glinted, deep and somehow both soft and incredibly sharp all at once.

  “I got the news and something broke inside me. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror anymore. I hated what I had become. What I’d turned myself into. I felt loss and lost, if that makes any sense. Then the only thing I was sure about, was that I needed to find myself again…”

  Ellie broke in, “So that’s when you got some money, got on your bike, and rode away from your life.”

  I nodded.

  “And you didn't tell anyone because you didn’t want anyone to know where you were.”

  I nodded again, even though they weren’t questions but statements.

  “Are you going to tell anyone?” I asked. She could. I wasn’t sure of the exact amount, but I knew that the FBI now offered a reward somewhere over $500,000 for information leading to my whereabouts.

  Ellie didn’t hesitate. “No. Not unless you want me to.”

  I needed her again. Badly. This time, when I pulled at the sheet she didn’t stop me. I held her body hard against mine, my lips fitting to hers.

  I rolled on top of her, breathing in the smell of her while her body writhed and arched beneath mine.

  “Dash…” she said, her voice husky with desire.

  Chapter 16

  ELLIE

  I woke up when someone knocked on the door.

  Knocked wasn’t the right word. Banged. It sounded like whoever waited on my porch wanted to slam their fist on through.

  Dash jerked awake beside me. We’d slept with him on his back and me snuggled in against him, and I felt his chest and arm go rigid beneath me.

  The way the sun slanted in between the drapes, catching motes of dust in its brightness, told me we slept through the night until early morning. My alarm clock hadn’t gone off yet.

  “Bobby?” Dash said.

  “Could be,” I replied, sitting up. My hair fell down in front of my face, and when I touched my head I groaned. A glance in the mirror by the dresser confirmed my theory: it looked like I’d been up all night and that I’d had either a really great time or a really bad one.

  No time to fix it, either. I pushed up off the bed and staggered.

  “You okay?” Dash said.

  “Wobbly legs. Those are your fault.”

  “I’m not sorry,” he said. Even though I stood with my back to him I knew that he had a big grin on his face.

  Especially since I was naked. My mind went immediately to wondering how many awful little pressure lines I had on my backside from sleeping on the wrinkled sheets.

  Another rapid fire series of knocks blasted through the house. Dash reached down and grabbed his jeans. The steel end of the belt, hanging loose in its loops, clicked and rattled. “Maybe they’ll go away.”

  I snorted and shook my head. “Not in this town. The truck’s in the driveway. Truck’s here, then I’m here.”

  I dressed quickly. Jeans and a plain ivory blouse. I looked longingly at the brush on my dresser, wishing for a few minutes so that I might pull it through the bird’s nest on my head.

  More knocks. These ones set my teeth on edge. No time fo
r hair brushing.

  Dash stood as well, his jeans on but still unbuttoned. He bent over to grab his shirt and I swallowed heavily at the lithe way his body moved.

  “I’m going to kill whoever’s at the door,” I said. This wasn’t the way I wanted to wake up. Then I looked at Dash and saw he meant to come with me, “And you stay here. You’ve caused enough trouble already.”

  He pulled his shirt on, covering that lovely body, and shrugged. I took some comfort in the fact that his hair was in disarray, too. Though I had to admit it was in a sexy, inviting way.

  I made my way downstairs and reached the door just as the person on the other side started in again. I yanked the door open.

  “Sheriff? Why are you trying to batter my door down? And if that’s the case, I want to see a warrant.”

  He grinned like it was a joke. Like he’d bother with a warrant, I thought. I knew Sheriff Robert fancied himself something of a frontiersman, where the law was harsh and justice swift.

  The law being his to decide and interpret, of course. He was usually okay so long as you didn't get on his bad side. Like by beating up his son and his son’s friends.

  Or for dating that son and then, instead of marrying him, breaking the whole thing up, I thought.

  Robert Sr. rested his hands on his gun belt and cocked his head to the side, considering. I could see the reflection of my wonky hair in his aviator glasses.

  “Just come to see if that biker vagrant’s showed up at your door yet. I still have some questions for him,” he said.

  “No…” I started.

  “Vagrant is a bit harsh. I prefer vagabond. It’s more romantic,” Dash said from behind me.

  I cringed. What the hell are you doing? I thought. I hadn’t heard him come down the stairs. But I felt him then, standing behind me.

  Sheriff Robert looked up at him, his eyes inscrutable behind those glasses.

  My heart started pounding. My hand, still on the knob, tightened against the warming brass. Damn it, Dash, you don’t know who you’re dealing with!

  Then, right after that, and neither does the sheriff.

  “You familiar with ‘assault and battery,’ mister vagabond?”

  Dash leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. “You mean that thing your son and his friends were fixing to do to Ellie?”

  Robert bristled and I braced myself. He barely tolerated me speaking back to him. Dash was an outsider, a stranger.

  “That’s not the way I hear it told,” Robert said.

  “Maybe you should get your ears checked, then.”

  Robert gripped the butt of his pistol harder. His lips tightened, and creases appeared on his forehead below the brim of his hat.

  “You listen to me-” he started.

  Dash stepped past me out onto the porch so that he stood toe-to-toe with the sheriff. Robert’s fingers went white around the pistol’s grip and he even started taking an involuntary step back before steadying himself.

  Cold, sharp blades started roving up and down my back. My empty stomach stirred and whirled. What are you doing?

  I started to step out as well, but Dash held up a hand to stop me. He didn’t look away from the shorter man.

  “No, you listen to me,” Dash said, “You know damn well what kind of man your son is. He got what was coming, and you know that, too. You stir things up with Ellie and me because of this and not only are you not getting re-elected, but you’ll also never want to show your face around town again.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Robert drew himself up to his full height, which still came up short compared to Dash. The sheriff’s face took on a deep red flush and the big veins in his neck stood out.

  “Promising, actually,” Dash said, unfazed.

  Is that what he was like back in New York being that big time CEO? I wondered. I didn’t think it possible to intimidate Sheriff Robert, but it happened right in front of my eyes.

  Who are you, Dash? He was a man stuck between identities.

  I wanted him to stop before he gave himself away.

  “Who are you?” The sheriff said.

  “Trouble for you, if you’re not careful,” Dash replied.

  The two men then stood there in silence, weighing each other’s resolve.

  Robert broke first.

  “And I’ll be the same for you. You better watch yourself around here, boy.”

  Dash didn’t reply. Instead, he turned his back on the sheriff and came back inside, ushering me in as he went. He closed the door on Robert, who stood there fuming.

  We went partway down the hall before I could contain myself no longer and I rounded on him. I beat my fists against his chest.

  “What the hell was that? You want to get yourself arrested?”

  Dash caught my wrists in his hands and then pulled me against him, pinning my arms between us. He was warm and solid and I tried not to think about either of those facts.

  “He’s not going to arrest me. He has no idea what to make of me.”

  “That was a mistake. Maybe a big one,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Dash admitted, “You let these guys walk all over you and it has to stop if you want to move on from all of this.”

  “Big words coming from a man on the run from himself,” I said before I could stop myself.

  He let me go and I stepped away from his warmth.

  “And besides,” I said, “I never asked for your help with any of this.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he replied, “And you’re right. I’m trouble for you here. I can’t stay, not with you, at least. Because the sheriff’s going to find an excuse sometime. I’ll let you know when I find a place.”

  I started back towards him, “Hey, I didn’t say you should leave…”

  He hooked his fingers down into the waistband of my jeans and hauled me against him again. He looked me hard in the eyes.

  “No you didn’t, but I need to. I’ll let you know when I’ve found another place.”

  I thought he might kiss me again, but he didn’t. He let go of me and checked out the window to see if the sheriff had left. Then he went out and wheeled his bike around from the back.

  The engine roared to life and I watched him ride away down the road.

  I shouldn’t have let him go, I thought.

  I went out onto the porch and sat on the swing. Its springs creaked while I used my heels to rock back and forth gently.

  I shouldn’t have let him.

  Chapter 17

  DASH

  I didn’t look back. If I looked back, I might turn back.

  Might? Will, more like it.

  I couldn’t leave Pleasant. Not yet. I was discovering too much about myself and my past, and for the first time in ages it felt like I could begin fitting the puzzle pieces of my life together.

  For the first time since I’d left New York, I didn’t want to run anymore.

  But I also couldn’t stay with Ellie. Especially after losing my cool with the sheriff. I knew his sort. I knew now he’d be looking for any excuse to get back at me.

  And he seemed the type who would have no compunctions about getting back at me through Ellie.

  At that moment, I thought the best way to protect her was to leave her.

  I twisted the throttle harder. The bike roared beneath me. The rumble of its exhaust echoed through this haggard shell of a town.

  I gave it enough throttle until the wind whipped around me, my heart racing along with the engine.

  I gave it up when I thought of how stupid it would be for the sheriff or a deputy to bust me for speeding.

  The wind died around me and my shirt ruffled as it settled down on my shoulders. I felt naked not wearing my riding clothes, but I hadn’t wanted to take the time to pull it all on back at Ellie’s.

  Without really knowing where I was going, I made my way downtown. A vague idea flitted through my mind about renting a place.

  The knowledge of my rapidly dwindling cash reserves also did some flitting.r />
  It was kind of funny. I had access to bank accounts with disgusting balances in them, but as soon as I touched one, the FBI and anyone else looking would know right where I was.

  That couldn’t happen. Not yet, not until I found what I wanted to find.

  Whatever that is.

  That, and rental places usually wanted pesky things like ID, credit checks, references. And rent and damage deposits and all sorts of stuff like that.

  Maybe I should just go back to Ellie’s.

  The downtown was just about as empty as the day Ellie and I got in that tussle by the laundromat. Stores with soaped windows and peeling, broken signs glared blindly out at the street. A few, like the laundromat, remained struggling, their backs waiting for that final straw.

  And then there was the bar.

  Every small town had a few dives. It was a given, like lines on the road or property taxes. And Pleasant proved no different.

  Pleasant’s dive was called, strangely enough, And You? The words appeared on a swinging sign over the door. The obligatory neon tube signs spelling out Coors and Bud Light adorned their usual places in the windows.

  It was a two-story place, crumbling brick on the outside, detached from the rest of the building facades along the street.

  An old red Ram truck, brown rust spots on the quarter panels above the back wheels, sat alone in the lot.

  I parked beside it and went inside the oddly-named bar.

  It also conformed to expectations. Dark mostly, dim lights suspended from the ceiling above a few tables and booths. There were a couple pool tables. Some moldy-oldie spewed fuzzily from a jukebox in the corner.

  I took a seat on one of the stools by the bar, taking a cursory glance at the beer taps and then at the liquor displayed along the back wall. The mirror behind those bottles needed a good wiping.

  I took off my helmet and set it down on the bar.

  “Help you?”

  An enormous man reared up from behind the bar, where I guess he’d been kneeling to change out a beer keg or some such when I came in.

  He was both tall and wide, and he looked like one of those men who used to be a bodybuilder but let it all go soft some years ago. Tattoos crawled up and down his arms, and a bushy beard, more gray than black, hid his bull neck. He wore an aged leather vest open over a t-shirt with a picture of an old Harley on it.