Millionaire Hero (Freeman Brothers Book 4)

by Natasha L. Black

  11

  Bryn

  There were many ways I enjoyed waking up in the morning. The smell of fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen. The smell of bacon getting crispy and amazing in a skillet. Birds singing. Waves crashing. Music.

  A sudden surge of nausea was not one of them. There wasn’t really ever a time when I enjoyed the feeling of impending sickness but getting thrashed out of sleep by it was definitely the worst. And that was exactly how Monday started for me. I was sleeping peacefully, having a perfectly nice dream, when my stomach rolled over and the feeling that I was about to empty everything inside me rushed up.

  It startled me awake, and I tumbled out of bed. Rushing for the bathroom, I was never happier about the attached bath in my bedroom.

  The rippling in my stomach I had been feeling on and off for a few days came to full fruition for the next half an hour. I stayed on the cold tile floor of my bathroom for another twenty minutes just to make sure it was all over, then dragged myself up. Leaning on the sink, I filled my palm with water, tipped it into my mouth, and swished it around. I spit it out and rinsed a couple more times.

  The cool water perked me up just enough that I could get out of the bathroom and back into my bedroom. I flopped facedown in my bed and lay there for another fifteen minutes trying to convince myself I felt better. When that didn’t happen, I made the executive decision I was going to take ahalf-day from work. This was not the kind of mindset I wanted to be in while I was trying to manage complicated coding.

  Turning the notifications on my phone off, I pulled the covers up over my head and went back to sleep. As it turned out, this also wasn’t the kind of mindset I needed to turn the notifications off. Instead, I managed to turn them on even louder. Which resulted in my phone screaming at me and jostling me out of sleep for the second unpleasant time that day.

  Not wanting to open my eyes, I felt around on my bed until I found my phone. I peeked at the screen and noticed it was almost noon. Just prying my eyelids up that tiny amount let a new wave of nausea roll over me, and I squeezed them down again. The phone could scream all it wanted. I wasn’t going to talk to anybody until it didn’t feel like I was on a ship tossing around in an angry storm.

  Finally, it felt like I had control over my stomach, and I was able to open my eyes all the way without needing to rush back into the bathroom. It was enough to let me check my phone. I had a text from Nick asking for another meeting. It seemed like we had the same conversation over and over. I wished he would come up with something more creative to say, though I wasn’t really sure what. It wasn’t like he was asking me out or trying to win me over. He was being professional and finding time to talk about the situation at hand.

  The thought of going to his office was out of the question. Considering a visit to the bar was even worse. As much as I wanted to know how the circumstances were unfolding and if anything new had happened, I had no interest in putting on real clothes or seeing a bunch of people.

  I responded to the message explaining I was feeling ill and wasn’t going to be able to leave the house. The original plan was just to ask for a meeting in the coming days. But apparently my fingers were taking full advantage of my brain not working at peak functioning. They typed out my address and invited Nick over.

  He messaged back that he would be over at two. That gave me enough time to slide into a bath and try not to slip beneath the surface and drown. When I managed to get out of the bathtub alive, I got dressed in a fresh set of yoga pants and a tank top, threw a lightweight cardigan over it, and went into the kitchen to make tea.

  The smell of the tea didn’t make my stomach completely protest, and I realized it was actually rumbling just slightly. Because there was always the possibility that the rumble was just another wave of sickness getting ready to wash over me, I had to be cautious.

  Dry toast. That was what I needed. I piled a few slices up on a plate and put them on a tray along with the teapot and two cups. I managed to get them all the way into the living room and set it down on the coffee table with slightly shaking hands.

  Curling up on the couch, I sipped a cup of my favorite peppermint tea. It went down smooth and settled my stomach. Partway through my second cup, I picked up a slice of toast and started nibbling. I was gradually working my way around the crust when I heard a knock on the front door. I tossed my partial piece of toast onto the plate, set my cup down, and reluctantly went to the front door.

  Fortunately, I got to the door without any more uprisings from my stomach. I unlocked it and looked out at Nick. His expression didn’t seem particularly happy. That didn’t make me feel too optimistic. I gestured for him to follow me inside and made my way back to the couch.

  “Hold on,” I said. “I want to be sitting for this.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, closing the door behind him and following me into the living room.

  I got to the couch and curled back up into my favorite corner. Tugging the blanket folded across the back and down over me, I reached for my toast and tea.

  “You don’t look like you come bearing good news. I’m already feeling pretty terrible. I’d rather get let down while I’m sitting,” I said. “Tea?”

  “Sure. That sounds good,” he said.

  I gestured to the pot and cup on the tray. “Help yourself. It’s peppermint. There’s some honey if you want it sweeter.”

  “Thanks,” he said, pouring himself a cup and sitting down on the other end of the couch. He took a sip of the tea, then stared down into the cup and nodded like it was a completely new experience for him and he was trying to decide if he liked it or not. “Well, I wish I could tell you that you were wrong.”

  I let out a sigh and dropped my head back against the couch.

  I took down the last of my tea like a shot and looked squarely into his face. “Alright. Go ahead.”

  “I met with Clint, who is Gabe’s friend,” Nick said.

  “The police officer,” I said, nodding.

  “Yes. He talked over the whole situation with some of the guys at the station. It turns out, the investor didn’t actually do anything illegal as far as they can tell. He’s really bad at his job, but not a criminal. So, that angle isn’t going to work for you. What he did say is that Justin did still steal from you. He took that money out of your account without your permission, which means he committed larceny. If you have any way you can prove that he took that money, then they’re able to arrest him and you can go through the legal channels,” Nick said.

  “And if I can’t prove it?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I don’t think there’s any way I can prove it. The records show the money was taken out. But it doesn’t show who did it. And even if it did show that Justin took it out, obviously he had something that convinced the bank he had the right to do it. I can’t prove he actually stole the money from me. I really wish I could, but I can’t think of anything.”

  I wasn’t surprised by the news. From the very beginning, I knew it was a long shot to actually have anything happen to Justin. But I had gotten hopeful. I was expecting Nick to apologize for not being able to help me anymore and leave. Instead, he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file. He held it out to me.

  “Here,” he said.

  “What’s that?” I asked without taking the file.

  “Since I couldn’t get your money back for you, I wanted to try something else. I plotted out how long it would take me to help you get it back for yourself. It’s essentially the same thing Justin was trying to do, just I’m actually going to do it correctly. This file has my predictions and my plan. Go over it. If you think you want to do this, let me know. I won’t charge you. Not a cent,” he said.

  I took the file from him, stunned. I was still staring at it when he got up, told me he hoped I felt better, and left. The file stayed sitting on the table for another few hours, untouched as I tried to process what was happening. Right before bedtime, I opened it and loo
ked through the papers inside. As soon as I did, I knew I would be working with him.

  12

  Nick

  I should have done more. I didn’t know what it was, but I really felt like I should have done more. As soon as Bryn messaged me back and said she wasn’t feeling well, I should have thought of some way to try to make her feel better. At least gone by the deli and gotten her some chicken soup or something.

  Of course, she said she was feeling sick to her stomach, so maybe getting soup wasn’t the best option. But I could have done better than just showing up at her house ready to break the bad news to her. Maybe I could still do something. When I left her, she was staring at the file containing the plan I had for investing her money. She’d been like that for a while and I didn’t think she even noticed that I was leaving.

  It was entirely possible I could go back and bring her something.

  Of course, that was yesterday. So, by now she probably had come to her senses and figured out I left. Which also meant she had gone through the file. Only, I hadn’t heard from her. I had no idea what she thought about my proposition. It seemed like a fantastic idea at the time when I put it together. After all, speaking with Clint and Gabe, I was pretty well resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to get her money back through Justin.

  I knew he had done something wrong. He had obviously broken laws and should be held accountable. He’d stolen a tremendous amount of money from her and lost it all. He deserved to be arrested, brought up on charges, and tossed behind bars for a good while. I would have said he deserved everything he had coming to him, except that it seemed he didn’t actually have anything coming to him.

  It wasn’t something I wanted to admit, and definitely not something I would say anywhere near Bryn, but he had been smart. This wasn’t something he just did on a whim. He had been planning it, possibly for a really long time. When he decided it was time to take all the money out of her account, he did it in a way that couldn’t be traced back to him. He knew he didn’t have authorization to take the money and that it would be seen as theft if she detected it. So, he made sure no one figured it out.

  Like she said, he really thought he would be able to get away with that. In his grand scheme, he would funnel all the money out of her bank account and hand it over to an investor who would be able to quickly multiply the amount. From there, he could just put Bryn’s money back into her account and the profits into his. As far as he was concerned, there was no harm no foul. She would never find out what he did, never get a chance to be hurt or offended, and he would have plenty of money to play with.

  And if it had worked, he wouldn’t have stopped. If he had managed to pull it off and get all that money back in, he would have just done it again. It would have happened over and over until he either got tired of it or made a mistake.

  It turned out he made the mistake before he even got the chance to try it again.

  But that still left Bryn in the dust. He had taken everything from her, and while I didn’t have any responsibility in that, I felt compelled to make things right for her. I put together a plan that showed her it was possible for her to resurrect her account using effective investing strategies. It was perfect.

  At least, it seemed perfect until I was sitting in my office realizing I’d showed up at her house while she was sick, didn’t bring her anything to try to make her feel better, dashed her hopes, and left her with an investment plan she didn’t ask for. It wasn’t perfect. It was presumptuous.

  Well, shit.

  I was trying to balance writing up a report to send to a client and contemplating how I was going to fix the mess with Bryn when Gabe popped his head into the office.

  “Hey,” I said, looking up at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Somebody wanted to say hi,” he said.

  He stepped further into the doorframe and guided his wife into view.

  “Cynthia!” I said happily, standing up and coming around the desk as they came into the office. “What are you doing here?”

  She still had a cast on her arm, her entire left side was all black and blue, and she was limping, but at least she was up and about. I gave her a very careful hug, and she smiled at me.

  “I couldn’t stay cooped up in that house for another minute,” she said. “I needed to get out and see the world again.”

  “Gabe wasn’t taking care of you right? You just give me the word,” I said, and she laughed.

  “Thank you, Nick,” she said. “Gabe did a great job taking care of me. A little bit too good a job sometimes. He didn’t want me to do anything, even when the doctor said I could start doing more. Finally, today my mom came over to spend some time with the baby, and I told Gabe I was breaking out. Either he could come with me, or I was going to figure out how to do it on my own.”

  I laughed. “That a girl. how are you feeling?”

  “Still pretty awful,” she admitted. “But it’s getting better.”

  “That’s good to hear. Do you guys have plans for lunch?”

  Gabe and Cynthia exchanged glances, then took their heads.

  “No,” Gabe said. “We just came by here for a quick visit.”

  “And I’m sure it had absolutely nothing to do with you wanting to know what’s going on with the situation with Bryn?” I asked.

  Gabe pretended like he had no idea what I was talking about. “Oh, is that still going on?”

  I shook my head and scoffed. “Let me get this file sent, and we’ll go grab something to eat.”

  “Do you mind if we just order something in?” Cynthia asked. “I got some really unpleasant looks when we were walking in here, and I’m pretty sure a woman called the police on Gabe.”

  I laughed. “No problem. What sounds good to you?”

  We dug through my desk drawer full of menus from takeout places around the area and settled on Thai.

  The food came relatively quickly considering the sheer volume we ordered. We went back into the breakroom to eat it at one of the large tables.

  We had just started dishing out the food onto our plates when Bryn showed up at the door.

  “Hi, Bryn,” I said, shocked to see her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I had no idea you were eating lunch. Your receptionist told me I could find you back here. I don’t mean to interrupt. Just give me a call later.”

  Cynthia shook her head and waved her in. “No, don’t be silly. Come on in. Join us. As you can see, there is more than enough food to go around.”

  “Are you sure?” Bryn asked.

  “Absolutely,” Gabe said.

  She thought for a few seconds, then cautiously reached out and served herself tiny amounts of a few of the simplest options. We ate and chatted for a while, and then Cynthia’s phone alarm went off. She adjusted herself carefully in her chair so she could get her phone out of her pocket.

  “Oh,” she said. “It’s time for me to take my medicine.”

  “We’re going to have to go,” Gabe said. “As soon as she takes her medicine, it makes her tired. We need to get home so she can rest.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks for coming by. It was really good to see you.”

  I gave her another careful hug, then gave one to Gabe. They promised to visit again soon, and I set a time to check in with Gabe about his clients. They walked out, and I turned back around to Bryn. She was busying herself boxing up the leftovers and moving them into the refrigerator.

  “Thank you for lunch,” she said. “It was delicious.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Are you feeling better?” I asked.

  “Some. Not a hundred percent.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  I stopped and looked at her, not entirely sure where the conversation was going.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “I’ll work with you. After you left, I went over all the papers, and I’m really interested in what you are thinking.”

&nbs
p; “I’m so glad to hear that,” I said.

  “It’s not going to be immediate. Getting the seed money to start off the new investments is going to take me a little bit of time. But I will accept a few extra orders to make the money,” Bryn said.

  “That’s fantastic. There’s no rush. You just let me know when you’re ready and we’ll get started. Now, you’re okay with the estimate I gave?” I asked.

  “Yes. That all looks good.”

  “Great. I look forward to getting started,” I said.

  “Thank you for doing this. It’s really going above and beyond,” she said.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I said, trying to minimize the significance so she didn’t feel guilty for the work I put into it.

  “It is, though,” she said. “At least, it is to me. And I don’t feel right with you not accepting any payment. We should—”

  “No,” I said, holding up a hand to stop her. “I’m not going to talk about it. You aren’t paying me for this. I want to do it for you. Okay?”

  She finally nodded. “Alright.”

  “Good.”

  I walked her to the door and thanked her for coming in. She looked exhausted as she left, but I didn’t say anything. Hopefully we could get started soon and the stress would be gone.

  13

  Bryn

  Nope. There was no getting used to it. No matter how many mornings I woke up feeling sick as a dog and wanted to do nothing but wallow in bed, it was still horrible. There was some r elief in that the worst of the sickness seemed to fade by the midmorning or afternoon and I was able to be functional again. That gave me enough time to eat something and shove some work into the few hours before the exhaustion struck.

  Then I passed out, slept like a rock, and started it all over again the next day. All in all, it sucked. By the fourth morning straight of it happening without any relief, I knew I couldn’t just keep on going like this. Wishing it would go away and thinking I could drown it by guzzling as much water and tea as I could hold wasn’t working out for me. What also wasn’t working out was ramping up on my workload.