Un-Kidnap Me: Billionaire Alpha Age Gap Romance (DOM for Hire Book 1)

by Hazel Parker

  But perhaps because they thought we were on the plane, no one was following us. And as I pulled into the hidden garage and shut it, I was able to breathe for a moment. I thought we were safe.

  The moment of relief, though, was mostly meaningless, forgotten beneath the anger and frustration that started to boil over. Why the fuck had Snake killed one of my men? That was not part of our engagement. I had specifically avoided killing his men on his boat, knowing full well that to do so would lead to something like this.

  And now, he’d done that.

  To be honest, it almost felt like a mistake. Snake was a whacko and batshit crazy, but he wasn’t a sociopath. He enjoyed our terms of engagement, and I think the fact that we didn’t try and murder each other ensured that the game could go on.

  But gunfire? Exploding airplanes? What in the actual fuck was all of this?

  “Scott?”

  I looked over to Kaylie. A few weeks ago, she was just a young girl, the daughter of a TV star trying to make her way in the world. And now, apparently, she was worth so much that Snake was willing to violate all of the unspoken rules we had for each other and wreak havoc upon everything.

  If you asked me how I felt about her? There was no amount that I could say she was worth.

  But right now, it was hard to feel anything other than unbridled anger at it all. At her, at the job, at her mother, at Snake, and, most of all?

  At myself.

  Chapter 16: Kaylie

  This is all my damn fault.

  I felt like if I had just exercised an ounce of precaution, I wouldn’t have what felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders. If I hadn’t posted my location on social media, like my parents and others had always warned me about…if I hadn’t tried to make myself a big deal in the first place on social media…if I had just listened to my gut and laid low while my mother tried to become the next big TV hotshot…

  No one would be dead. There would be no eight-figure payout for my head. Scott wouldn’t have to deal with all of this. I would be home safe, either with my friends or with my mother, but I would be safe.

  And now…

  I didn’t want to even think about all the shit I was putting everyone through. Pretty much all of the people who had my best interests at heart were suffering right now, and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do. Scott looked rattled unlike anything I’d seen from him. My mother was probably freaking out, wondering when she’d get word from Scott I was safe. My friends probably thought I was dead.

  Oh, fuck.

  I needed the chance to talk to my mother. I needed to let her know that I was still alive. The news of an airplane exploding on the Cayman Islands would probably make news somewhere, especially if news media back home were covering my absence—which, unfortunately, seemed like a given.

  “Hey, Scott?”

  But Scott wasn’t looking at me. He wasn’t even facing my general direction. He was leaning against the door to the interior of the bunker, his back to me. He was breathing heavily, probably not crying but looking utterly frazzled and damaged.

  “Scott?”

  He still didn’t say anything to me.

  “Scott, can I talk to—”

  “No, Kaylie, you fucking can’t,” he snapped.

  “Scott?”

  He groaned. He then turned very slowly to me, breathing deep, trying to calm himself. He didn’t seem to be succeeding in that regard.

  He was, honestly, scary. And I didn’t mean in the arousing, “he’s so dangerous, it’s hot,” scary. I meant his look, his eyes, his face genuinely scared me. He looked like he was going to slap me if I did something wrong, and it wasn’t going to be the kind of slap to encourage me to do more.

  “I need space,” he said. “I can’t deal with you right now. I know, I have to, I should, it’s the mission, but don’t you dare fucking bother me right now.”

  He bit his lip, looking like he wanted to say more, but nothing more came out. He shook his head, cursed under his breath—though not quietly enough for me not to hear him—and opened the door to the bunker. He left it open for me, and I followed, though he did not wait for me to keep up.

  I followed him at a distance, not trying to keep it a secret—it wasn’t like it was a surprise that I was here—but also trying to respect his space. He had folded his arms and I could hear him talking to himself, though I could not quite pick up on what he was saying. He went to a private room and shut the door, but it did not slam all the way shut. I went up to the open crack and peered in.

  “Liam,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his body facing away from me. “I told you I’d never put you in a spot where you’d get killed. I told you I’d make sure everything was lined up. But…”

  He didn’t finish his words. A long, awkward silence followed, making me wonder if I had exposed myself. But Scott just sighed, put his head in his hands, and said nothing.

  Scott never cried. I didn’t think he was capable of showing that much emotion. But I also had not expected him to show this level of emotion, either. It was far beyond anything I could have expected; I thought he was only capable of anger, dominance, and some stoicism. Not…not grief.

  Scott wasn’t supposed to be someone that I saw as having multiple dimensions. Sure, the sex was great, but that just made him two-dimensional. He was supposed to be the stoic, blunt, straightforward rescuer, and then he became slightly more complex as a hard lover.

  I did not expect this third dimension of being human.

  “Time to break one out for you, Liam,” he said.

  I’d gotten myself so far in my head that I’d almost forgotten entirely he was mourning the moment. I took a step back from the door as he rose from the bed.

  “You always loved whiskey, my friend.”

  I felt like I needed to go back to the bed and just know my place. It was like I’d stumbled into a funeral that the family had closed off to the public. Just what the hell was I even doing here?

  “You know, Liam, when we first met, I thought you were the world’s biggest shithead.”

  I’m learning about Scott.

  About the guy I care about.

  “I thought it was going to be a hell of a time working with you,” he said, his words paused only by him taking a sip of the whiskey. “And then we actually got into a real brawl. Shit, those were the fucking days, huh? But we got through it, man. We got through it. And now…”

  He sighed and punched what sounded like his bed.

  “Motherfucking Snake,” he said. “For all the shit we’ve evaded and survived, who would have fucking thought it would be Snake? And in a goddamn plane, trying to rescue me and her…you never even got to meet this one.”

  I felt my stomach clench in nervous anticipation.

  “She’s unlike the rest, Liam,” he said. “Sassy and fiery. You know how it is. Most of the clients we rescue are too hysterical to do anything. But not this one. Kaylie Charleston is her name. She’s…different.”

  He chuckled.

  “Not that I’d ever fucking tell you, asshole. But I’m sure somewhere, you’re looking at me, shaking your head, laughing your ass off at my inability to keep my dick in my pants when I finally came across a sexy lady like this.”

  Even though I’d never seen Scott so crushed, I hadn’t felt so elated and joyful as that moment. The way I felt about Scott…was how he felt about me?

  I couldn’t admit to him I’d heard him say those things, though. He’d know I was eavesdropping, and nothing killed desire faster than a lack of trust or security. I would have to find a way to elicit those words, knowing how I felt about him.

  But boy.

  “She’s something else, Liam,” he said. “I don’t know what the hell’s going to happen now. But fuck, man. She’s…she’s different.”

  A long enough pause came that I felt like I had overstayed my welcome. Even though Scott gave no indication that he’d heard me and was setting me up, the last thing I wanted to do was risk being c
aught now. It almost felt like a karma thing, like I’d heard enough but anything more was seriously tempting fate.

  I tip-toed back to my bed and sat down, but I was not tired. I was exhausted, sure, but that wasn’t the same as needing to sleep. I just…

  Really, I just wanted to go outside. I wanted to see the stars, sip a cocktail, recline in a hammock, and not have to deal with any of this. I wanted to spot the Big and Little Dipper, I wanted to feel warm sand under my toes, I wanted to feel the cool ocean breeze…and I wanted to do it without wondering if doing so would get both me and Scott killed.

  I wanted to do all of that with Scott. To feel his burly arms around me. To have him tell me what to do…to push back on him and taunt and tease him…to have him push through all of it and just take me and tell me what to do…to be under his spell…

  But no.

  Fucking Snake and whoever he was with would not allow that.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, looking around at the bunker. There wasn’t really much to see. Besides Scott’s room and my spot, there was another room that looked like a war room of sorts; I could see maps and drawings from where I sat. That was also where a lot of the books had come from.

  I probably should have just stuck to myself. But if ever there was a time I was going to learn more about Scott and his…whatever he was with, this was it. And if he found me and had to punish me? Spank me? Slap me around a bit?

  I mean, there were worse things to have to deal with.

  I walked slowly to the door, making sure to give myself an out to the bed if Scott came out. But he never did, and I poked open the door all the way and walked inside.

  “Fuck!”

  Scott’s scream froze me, followed by the sound of glass shattering down the hall. Had he seen me walk in? If he’d broken a glass bottle to come and threaten me, that wasn’t some display of dominance. That was just straight danger.

  But nothing followed. No footsteps. No shouting my name. No warning me that he was pissed.

  If I had to guess, it sounded like Scott had gotten so drunk that he’d thrown a bottle against the wall in anger. Which, if that was the case, meant distance was the best strategy at this point.

  I continued into the room and looked around. There was a map of the globe on the wall, with little pins put into too many places for me to count. They touched every continent except Antarctica and were everywhere from northern Canada to Sahara Africa.

  There was a listing of codenames on the wall, ranging from “Black Eagle” to “Land Shark” to “Silent Grenade.” There was no other context, nothing that I could compare the codenames to.

  And then I saw a piece of paper with handwriting on it, pinned to the wall closest to me when I entered. If Scott opened the door, I could hide behind it. Not that that would be much of a strategy, but it might be something.

  I looked at the paper. It listed locations as well as call signs.

  “GT 3. 131.3. Barb 2. 101.7. CI 4. 100.9.”

  Cayman Islands. Didn’t Scott say something earlier about safehouse four being compromised?

  I continued reading through the list. Some of the abbreviations did not make sense. But there was one I saw that did.

  “Main. ME, US.”

  Main. Maine, United States.

  That’s where Scott’s headquarters are. Probably where he lives.

  It was probably a terrible sign that I was already thinking about how that wasn’t that far of a trip from New York City. What the hell was I doing? It wasn’t like we’d had any talk about the future. How could we when the present was so perilous?

  And to think, I was still in a relationship. I hadn’t technically broken up with Cameron, although in my defense, what was I supposed to do, send smoke signals to the sky to tell him that we were over? While the thought did make me smirk, that wasn’t going to happen.

  I left the list behind. I’d pushed my luck here enough; I suppose that if I really got what I had wanted, I would have found a diary or journal or something, but that was expecting too much. Scott wrote things down for mission purposes, not to get his emotions out. He was a professional, not a pussy.

  I walked back to the door and opened it. I walked out and—

  “Kaylie.”

  Shit!

  I jumped and turned. Scott was leaning against the wall, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

  “I thought you broke your glass?”

  “I gots a few, few, a few,” he said, slurring his words. He’s hammered as hell. “Kaylie, dear, you lookin’ mighty, mighty…heh, mighty fine.”

  “Scott, are you OK?”

  “OK?” he said sarcastically. “My only friend in the world got blown up. How, how the…how the fuck could I feel OK?”

  He tried to walk to me. He could still move, but walking was a generous interpretation for how he moved.

  “But you, you sexy little bitch,” he said. “Come to papa and make Daddy happy.”

  “Scott…”

  He was handsome. The sex earlier was among the best I’d ever had. And I did want him.

  But not like this.

  Not in a literal hot mess like this. Not when he was so drunk there was a real question of if he’d throw up in the middle of sex. And it hadn’t been that long since he’d given his eulogy. The alcohol probably hadn’t kicked in fully yet.

  “Call me Daddy…Kaylie!” he said with a laugh.

  He pulled me in for a kiss. I took him in for it, but his mouth tasted like whiskey to a terrible, almost unbearable degree.

  “OK, Scott, let’s sit down,” I said, taking his hand. “You’re going through a lot right now. Let’s just take it easy and chill, OK?”

  “I…” Scott said. He didn’t look angry, but he looked confused, like he didn’t understand the value in doing such a thing. “But you and I…”

  “Yes, it’s very hot,” I said, which was true—just not as much right now.

  “You make me wanna fuckin’ retire, baby.”

  What?

  “I just wanna go home and chill,” he said. “I’m, I’m, oh, damn, I’m so over it.”

  He’s just drunk.

  “I just wanna fuck your pretty little pussy, have some drinks on my porch. This shit is, this shit is too—”

  His feet gave out from under him as he slipped on something. And when he hit the floor, he didn’t catch himself. His face hit the floor.

  “Holy shit, Scott!”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

  But when I rolled him over, he wasn’t fine. He had a bloody nose, and his forehead was bleeding. I told him to stay where he was as I hurried over to the bathroom, grabbed whatever I could, and put some paper towels up against him. I was sure that he had medical equipment somewhere—it wouldn’t have been a bunker otherwise—but I had no idea where to turn, nor did I have any experience in applying it.

  “Ah, shit,” Scott said, sounding more disappointed than in pain. “You…you a real good girl, Kaylie. Lucky me, I get to rescue your ass.”

  “Shh,” I said, trying to get him to just settle in for the night. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  I tried to get him to stand up, but he either refused to move or didn’t have any interest in doing so.

  “Scott!”

  “What?” he said as if he wasn’t doing anything.

  I had to make a point.

  “Take the bed,” I said.

  I got him up enough to shove him on the bed. Once he was there, he just started chuckling, but he didn’t move.

  “You’re good, Kaylie Charleston,” he said. “I don’t, I don’t get clients like you. Gonna be a damn shame when you’re gone. Then I’ll have to, uhh, have to face no Liam.”

  I bit my lip. It was one of the most honest things I’d heard from Scott.

  “Just get some rest,” I said, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek.

  I ignored the rest of his gibberish as I thought about taking a spot in his actual bed. But right now, Scott didn’t need female company,
and he didn’t need me thinking I’d gone to his bed so he could take me in the morning. He just needed space.

  And I just needed…

  I didn’t know. Home. Less guilt. Less wondering if this was all my fault or not.

  I did take a pillow and blanket from his bed, but otherwise, I slept on the floor. I wrapped myself up in his blanket, closed my eyes, and hoped like hell that whatever happened next, it wouldn’t get anyone killed.

  I’d been responsible for enough tragedy already.

  Chapter 17: Scott

  Oh, shit.

  I feel like shit. Drank way too much.

  And Liam’s dead.

  It took all of five seconds upon waking up to remember why I’d drank myself into oblivion last night. It had taken no time at all to feel the pain of the hangover—

  No, not all of that was a hangover. Some of it felt too acute and too precise, like how my nose felt like someone had sucker-punched it last night. Had Kaylie…

  Where the fuck was…

  Wait.

  Why was she on the ground?

  Why was I in her guest bed?

  What the fuck did I do to myself last night? Jesus Christ. I never get like this.

  Maybe I caused her to punch me in my drunken foolishness.

  I put my hand to my nose. It wasn’t broken, but there was crusted blood there. I felt all around my face; my forehead was swollen and also had the remains of blood on it. The rest of my face felt fine, though. My hands also had some scrapes on them.

  It was pretty obvious I’d tripped and fallen, making an absolute fool of myself. It was embarrassing and unbecoming of me as a professional agent. Liam was gone. I had acted a fool.

  I couldn’t do anything about the past. But I sure as shit could make sure that whatever I did going forward didn’t make me act like such a fucking pussy. I had to act like a professional.

  And the first thing that meant was getting myself away from the temptation that was Kaylie Charleston.

  Lying on the ground, she looked so beautiful. Even though my blanket—which begged more questions—was wrapped around her from the shoulders down, her face looked so perfect. I wanted to unwrap her like a present, wake her up, and then take her. That would have made a lot of things better.