Summer Escape: A Bad Boy Billionaire and Virgin Romance (Summer of Love Book 2)

by Liz K. Lorde

  “I see you brought company!” Benny says happily, inclining his head in her direction.

  “Nicolette,” Lawson announces simply, receiving a grin from her as he pulls her tighter against him.

  “Nice to meet you,” Benny chimes, throwing in a wink for good measure.

  “Likewise,” she purrs.

  “Alright,” Lawson says, projecting more than is strictly necessary, “pleasantries out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Benny says, taking a step closer, “what can we do for you on this fine night?”

  Lawson smirks, opening his mouth to reply. Whatever he means to say is quickly lost, though, drowned beneath the sound of squealing tires.

  “What the fuck?” I ask aloud, though I’m sure no one can hear me.

  I turn just in time to spy the black SUV tearing towards us. “Fuck, get down!” I yell, frantically looking around for cover. Unfortunately for us, there’s precious little of it nearby.

  Lawson grabs for Nicolette, pulling her roughly behind a nearby garbage can just as the SUV swings around. I spot the barrels poking through the window the same moment that the familiar sound of gunfire tears through the air.

  My feet are moving of their own accord, propelling me towards a nearby crate. Even in my surprise, though, I can see it’s a long shot.

  “Benny!” I yell, turning quickly to find him.

  My eyes land on him the exact moment that the first bullet hits. I seem to process it in slow motion, the blood exploding from his back, the way he seems to cave in on himself the moment of impact.

  “Benny!”

  I start towards him, feeling a bullet whiz dangerously near my shoulder. It misses, somehow, but Benny isn’t so lucky. The next three take him high in the chest, more blood splattering around him as they land.

  I know the moment it happens that he’s dead. I know it even before he fully crumples to the ground.

  Giving up on my rescue mission, I turn back towards the crate, feeling another bullet narrowly miss me as I launch myself towards it.

  Almost there.

  You know, it’s surprisingly true what they say about being shot. The bluntness of it all, the shock.

  I always kind of doubted it before, but even knowing my current predicament, I still wonder at the heavy force that seems to slam into me the moment before I reach cover. I have just enough time to wonder how someone’s managed to punch me in the middle of a gunfight before the cold weight of reality settles on me.

  With it, the awareness of blood already pouring down my back.

  I manage to reach the crate, collapsing behind it as wood fragments explode around me. As soon as I get to relative safety, the real pain sets in.

  Like magic, the blunt ache is suddenly replaced with a searing sharpness. Like a hot poker set deep into the flesh of my back. My vision blurs at the edges, darkness pressing in on the world around me.

  I try to block it out, try to force my mind to focus on surviving. If I can manage that, there will be time enough to pass out later. Sometimes, though, thought alone can’t overcome.

  I feel myself leaning, my body suddenly heavy, my eyelids seemingly attached to weights.

  Again, I hear the squeal of tires, muffled voices that seem to recede by the second. I know this means something—something important, even—but my curiosity is quickly being overwhelmed by my complete and utter exhaustion.

  “Benny?” I hear myself ask.

  And then there’s nothing.

  Chapter 14

  Kristen

  I groan into the empty room, throwing the remote onto the cushions beside me as I stare unseeingly at the television.

  This is bullshit.

  Watch Netflix? Really?

  After the day I’ve just had, this guy actually expects me to sit on my ass and watch TV like nothing happened? Like I’m not currently holed up in his apartment, suddenly having become one of his possessions?

  I think fucking not.

  It’s been hours since Leo left, and I’ve yet to hear a word from him. Nothing. Just radio silence and way too much Netflix.

  I think it’s safe to say that I’ve officially lost my patience.

  The really shitty thing is that I actually tried. I stayed put; I didn’t cause any trouble…and look at the thanks I get.

  Left alone to rot in his stupid apartment while he’s off doing who knows what.

  All I need are three screaming kids and a box of Bonbons to complete the image of neglected spouse.

  Well, fuck that.

  I don’t know who Leo thinks he’s dealing with here, but I’m sure excited to prove him wrong.

  I don’t have to stay.

  I don’t have to obey him.

  He may have bought my freedom, but at the end of the day, I belong to no one. Least of all the guy who kidnapped me to begin with.

  Feeling suddenly decided, I stand, not bothering to shut the TV off as I hightail it out of the room.

  I really can just go. It’s not as if there’s anyone here to stop me.

  If Leo wanted to keep me here, he really should have stuck around. How long did he actually expect me to stay based on his instruction alone?

  Maybe he was counting on my being too afraid to leave. I can’t help but smile at the thought.

  I would have expected him to know better after tonight, but who knows. Some people are just slow learners.

  If that’s the case here, then I think he could use a lesson.

  I know that he found me once, but that doesn’t mean he will a second time. When he grabbed me at the party, he had the distinct advantage of my complete unawareness. That, unfortunately for him, isn’t the kind of thing that’s going to happen more than once.

  If he wants to track me down again, he’s gonna have his work cut out for him.

  All I need now is a getaway vehicle—and I’ve got a feeling there just might be one around here somewhere.

  I make a beeline for Leo’s bedroom, storming in through the door. I know men like him.

  Well, actually, I don’t, but I know men in general, and any man with the kind of money he threw around tonight definitely owns more than one vehicle.

  I just have to find the keys.

  I tear into his room, searching drawers, checking shelves, I even go so far as to look in the closet before moving on to the next. Systematically, I go through the entire house, searching desperately for a mode of transportation and snatching up any useful supplies along the way.

  I grab some clothes from his room, some toiletries from the bathroom, but it’s the kitchen where I really hit pay dirt.

  I stock a bag full of goodies, not knowing exactly where I want to go when I hit the road but knowing that straight home is probably not an option.

  He’d be expecting that from me.

  No, I think I might need to evade for a while before I try anything as obvious as that.

  I’m just leaving the kitchen, passing through the doorway in fact, when the unbelievably obvious occurs to me.

  I stop in my tracks, swiveling to look at the wall nearest the stove.

  Sure enough, there they are.

  A whole ring of keys, hanging invitingly from its own tiny hook.

  Jackpot.

  I grab for the glistening embodiments of my freedom, tapping my chin idly as I try to discern which does what.

  Of course, I couldn’t be lucky enough to get kidnapped by the labeling sort of criminal, but this is probably easy enough to solve.

  Keys in hand, I head for the door, feeling more assured in my decision with every step.

  So what if this guy saved me? He also technically endangered me to begin with. I mean, he roofied me, for fuck’s sake!

  I don’t owe him a damn thing, least of all my time.

  Though, after his reaction to what happened between us earlier, I’m not sure my time is really what he’s after.

  I push the thoughts from my mind, not liking the way his earlier beha
vior disappoints me.

  There’s no point in dwelling on it.

  After tonight, I won’t ever have to see him again.

  I raise my chin, walking down the hall with determination. I’ll get the car, figure out a place for tonight, and go from there.

  Simple enough.

  I’m almost to the front door when an idea suddenly occurs to me.

  Slowing, I glance down at my own hand, staring fixedly at the loop of keys clenched within it.

  There’s just one last thing I’d like to do before I leave.

  I turn back around, giggling quietly as I head back for Leo’s oh-so-top-secret-door.

  If he didn’t want me going in there, he really shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.

  Now that he’s made it a mystery, though, I just can’t help myself.

  Honestly, how could he even expect me to?

  I stop just short of the door, dropping my bags to the floor as I start to flip through the various keys.

  Some are clearly too large, such as the couple that seem they’d fit cars, while another two or three are obviously too small.

  Which leaves just two more.

  I try the first, managing to slip it half way into the lock before it sticks.

  Not that one then.

  I smile mischievously down at the remaining key.

  “Here we go,” I say aloud, reaching down to slide it into the lock.

  Of course it’s at this exact moment that the front door slams open.

  I hesitate, frustration tearing through me at the interruption.

  I really wanted to see what he was hiding in here. Not to mention, I also very much wanted to escape.

  “Kristen?”

  It’s definitely Leo, I’m sure of it, but his voice is odd, strained.

  I consider making a run for it or maybe even hiding so he’ll think I already did. If he leaves to look for me, I can definitely make a clean break.

  “Kristen?” he calls again.

  This time, I’m sure of it. Something’s wrong.

  My feet are moving before I’ve even come to a decision, carrying me quickly down the hall and towards the sound of his voice.

  The moment I set eyes on him, my breath catches in my throat.

  “Oh my god, Leo!”

  His shirt is stained with blood, his skin ashen even in the dim lighting. He stumbles slightly as he walks toward me.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, rushing forward.

  “Fine. Yeah I’m—I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Fuck, don’t start,” he says, actually laughing a little.

  “What happened?” I demand, finally closing the distance to stand before him.

  “Don’t—don’t worry—” he begins, swaying as he tries to force the words from his lips.

  “Leo?”

  I actually see his eyes roll into his head as he takes one last, shaky step forward.

  The next moment, his legs seem to give out entirely, his body slumping quickly towards me.

  I barely manage to catch him in time.

  Chapter 15

  Leo

  I’ve already lost a lot of blood, and if I’m going to make it through this, then we need to act fast.

  With Kristen’s help, I’m able to make it over the couch to sit down. Every step is a struggle—my body telling me to just collapse here and now—but I will my way forward.

  “Goddammit, Leo! What happened?”

  Her panic is starting to take over, which is dangerous for me. This isn’t her world, and I totally understand where she’s coming from, but I need her focused—my life depends on it right now.

  “Kristen, focus. I need you to focus. Now, we need to check out the bullet wound, okay?”

  I keep my voice level and calm as my eyes never falter from hers…even though the blood loss makes me want to close them and sleep.

  Together, the two of us peel off my jacket and shirt. Her touch is light and gentle, but I can see her eyes linger on my chest and the groves of my stomach as we removed my bloodied shirt.

  “Okay, is there an exit wound?”

  “A…a what?”

  I wince and groan in pain as I lean forward so that she can get a view of my back.

  “Is there an exit wound on the back of my shoulder?” I ask again.

  She shakes her head frantically. “No.”

  Fuck. This is going to be worse than I thought.

  A hissing groan slips past my clenched teeth as I sit back. And when I look up at Kristen, I can see her shaking.

  This isn’t how I had expected—or wanted—the night to go with her.

  Well, getting shot is never how I want a night to go.

  “Kristen, I need you to go into the bathroom and grab the red medical bag under the sink. It’s hard to miss.”

  Kristen nods and starts to go grab the bag but stops and suddenly turns to me.

  “Wait, why aren’t we taking you to the hospital? You just got shot! You need to see a doctor.”

  Her fear and panic are gripping tighter and asserting more control over her. They drip from her every word.

  “I don’t have time to explain why I don’t have time to explain. Kristen, please…go get the bag,” I tell her firmly but calmly.

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  She runs out of the room to fetch the bag, and I let out a loud groan that I had been holding in.

  My attention turns down to the wound in my shoulder, and I mutter a few curse words under my breath—mostly because to say them out loud would take too much energy.

  As much I would love to be able to go to a hospital to get this looked at, I can’t. Hospitals ask far too many questions…and so do cops.

  Lawson’s got a private surgeon on-call: a doctor who did work for the Cubans down in Miami before Lawson got his hands on him. But even using the guy right now may not be safe either.

  No, the only person I can trust right now—believe it or not—is Kristen, of all people. She’s the only person on the outside who I know has absolutely no involvement in what’s going on.

  For better or for worse, she’s all I’ve got right now.

  Kristen returns with the bag and sets it down on the table with her shaking hands.

  I feel guilty, even more than before, about all of this. This isn’t her world…her life. It’s mine, and I dragged her into the hell that it is.

  “Wha…what now?”

  “Now, now you’re going to pour us both a drink. If you’re going to do this, you need some steady hands,” I answer with a soft chuckle.

  “Me? I’m not qualified to fish a bullet out of you,” she exclaims with tremendous panic.

  “Kristen, it’s going to be okay. I’m going to talk you through it. But first, get us a drink of bourbon, okay?”

  She nods understandingly and goes over to the mini-bar, but instead of pouring us each a couple of drinks, she opens the bottle of and takes a long swill of it.

  “Fuck, I needed that,” she says, relieved.

  I start to laugh, but it sends a jolt of pain through my shoulder that quickly has me wincing instead.

  She rushes to my side, worry and concern radiating from her eyes. It’s touching, and I’m not entirely sure I’m worthy of it.

  I take the bottle from her hand and take a long drink from it myself. I can always trust Jim Bean to help burn away the pain—no matter the sort. Next, I take the bottle and pour the dark amber liquid over my wound.

  It stings like a son of a bitch and forces me to hiss in pain.

  Kristen takes the bottle from me and sets it down on the table. “Okay, so what do we do?”

  “Alright, you’re going to open that bag and take a pair of hooked pliers and a scalpel. You’re going to make a small cut in the wound so that you can slide the pliers in and pull out the bullet.”

  “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I can’t do that.”

  Kristen grabs the bourbon and takes another drink, but her hands are st
ill shaking uncontrollably.

  While the booze has helped me, it certainly hasn’t had the same effect on her.

  “Please, Leo. Can’t we—”

  That’s about all I let her get out before I grab her by the back of the head and pull her in for a forceful kiss. Kristen’s surprised at first, but she quickly embraces the kiss and returns the gesture.

  Almost immediately, I feel a sense of calm wash over her. Her hands steady themselves as her fingers graves along my bare chest.

  When our lips part, Kristen lets loose a heavy sigh.

  “Now, grab the scalpel and pliers,” I tell her coolly.

  Kristen goes to work right away at removing the bullet from my shoulder. The kiss—much to my surprise—continues to work its magic as her hands remain steady through the whole process.

  Her cuts are clean, and she’s able to remove the bullet—which, any deeper, would have nicked an artery and made me bleed out faster. And for a woman who’s never stitched someone up before, her work is clean and tight. From experience, I know that the scar will hardly be noticeable, thanks to her.

  She finishes putting the bandage over the wound, and I lean back into my couch. No sooner do I relax does Kristen begin shaking once more. The calmness that enveloped her long enough to stitch me up has long worn off.

  The leggy blonde sits beside me and curls up around me. I wrap my arm, my good one, around her and pull her in tightly to me. We’re both exhausted right now, as the adrenaline is starting to wear off, but having her so close to me has my body feeling as though it’s on fire.

  Kristen stares up at me, looking like she’s on the verge of tears.

  “What happened tonight, Leo?”

  I want to tell her the truth, but for her safety, I can’t. I refuse to let her get sucked into this shitshow of a world I live. She deserves better than that.

  And I will keep her safe from it at all costs…even if it means my life.

  I don’t answer her question, and instead, I lean down and kiss her soft, supple lips as if there were no tomorrow for us. Because, ultimately, it’s a very real possibility.

  Her body twists as she re-positions herself to deepen the kiss between us. Kristen’s hands pull me in closer to her, as if she can’t bear to have our bodies apart, and I willingly go along with it.