Bad Boy Holiday (Bad Boy Inc. Book 6)

by Eve Langlais

  Why? Had her father been talking to Joleen? Did Daddy know she and Matt were seeing each other? He better not because that would mean he was watching her too closely again. She’d snapped when she discovered his surveillance during college. He’d claimed it was for her own good. They’d compromised with her agreeing to a state-of-the-art security system.

  She was being paranoid. If her father thought for a moment she was involved with a client, he would have shown up at her apartment, baseball bat in hand.

  She’d invited him, and Matt had immediately said yes. The fact her father told her to do it after the fact meant it wouldn’t look odd. Them showing up in matching outfits? People were bound to notice.

  Let them. She wasn’t ashamed of being a woman. Of having needs. She could do worse than have people judging her for sleeping with a hot guy.

  As Matt looped the tie to perfection, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. This whirlwind past few days had been perfect.

  She leaned up and kissed him. Soft and sweet.

  Turning hot and passionate.

  “Maybe we should forget the party,” she murmured.

  “Won’t your father notice?”

  She wrinkled her nose as her ardor cooled. “Yes, and that probably isn’t a good thing.”

  The last time she’d not checked in when expected, her father had shown up at her shortly lived yoga class. She only needed to land on her chin once to realize it wasn’t for her, and given her daddy was partially to blame, she refused to talk to him for a whole week after.

  Helping her into her coat, Matt asked, “So where are we going? Restaurant? Bar? Boss’s living room?”

  She’d only been told the actual location that morning. The company had changed the venue a few times, along with the date. The owner of this BBI office—which had franchises all over the world—took paranoia to a new level. Then again, given what BBI was involved in, not really a surprise. Worldwide luxury realty was the cover for Bad Boy Inc., an agency of mercenaries that committed crimes for money. Although, it should be noted, they did have some lines they wouldn’t cross. Killing wasn’t one of them. But children were off the list. Bad Boy operated in shadows where concealment was key. They couldn’t afford to be outed, not with the enemies they’d made over the years.

  “We’re going to the Grizzly Lake Chalet.” There was a certain irony in the fact the Christmas party was being held in the same house where she and Matt first made out.

  He arched a brow. “A sale property being used for your office party?”

  “Sold property,” she corrected. “The deal was completed yesterday morning.”

  “And as a thank-you, the seller offered it up to celebrate?

  “Actually, the new buyer did. He insisted on a quick possession.”

  “Money talks,” he murmured. “Nice of the new owner to throw your company a Christmas party as a thank-you.”

  “Not that strange. He and his wife are friends with quite a few of us in the BBI family.”

  Ariel—formerly known as Meredith, code name Cougar Mom—was a woman with fiery red locks and a tendency of mothering Blake. Ariel had dated her father for a bit after a project they worked on. She also more recently had been in town setting up the interior decorating office on the first floor of their building while her husband got the newest BBI office up and running.

  “And who is this mysterious host?”

  No point in hiding it anymore. “Hugo Laurentian.”

  He whistled. “I’ve heard of him. Reclusive billionaire.”

  “But nice guy. He and my dad have been friends for a long time.” She used to call him uncle when she was younger.

  “We should get going.” He offered his arm, and she tucked her hand in it.

  The moment felt like one of those holiday specials. It just lacked the music and the perfect kiss in light falling snow under mistletoe.

  In her case, she could probably expect the disaster that made the heroine cry.

  While she’d offered to drive, he’d stated it was his turn and promised to not have a single drink so she could enjoy herself.

  He’d rented a sedan, the front leather seats wide and the leg room plenty. Nicely scented. Clean. The leather warm on her butt. Light jazz playing.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “It’s nicer than my apartment. I could live in here comfortably.” She stroked the buttery seat covering.

  “I know something else you can pet.”

  Crude, but she laughed. He knew how to amuse her. She was going to miss him when he left.

  “What’s the sad face for?” He always seemed to be paying attention to her. More than anyone ever had. Unless her father counted.

  “Nothing.”

  “Blake.” His voice had a warning tone.

  So she said the one thing guaranteed to shut him up. The thing that sent men packing. “I know I said no strings and all, but…” She bit her lip. “I hate that you have to go. I’m going to miss you.”

  A silence followed her words before his low reply. “To my surprise, I’m going to miss you as well. Enough that I am thinking of extending my trip.”

  “Really?” She turned a startled gaze on him.

  His lips crooked. “Being with you is more enjoyable than I would have imagined. You don’t bore me.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  A short-barked laugh emerged from him. “It’s not an insult but a huge compliment. I’m not a people person.”

  “Says the man who charmed my panties off almost the first day.”

  “When I’m around you, I’m a different kind of man.”

  “As opposed to…”

  “Anyone who truly knows me wouldn’t call me nice or charming.”

  “What do they call you then?”

  “Death.”

  “What?” she said, startled at his muttered reply.

  “People who know me would say I’m ruthless. I don’t let anything get in my way.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Not everyone is happy with the end result.”

  “You can’t please everyone. Only do your best.”

  He coughed.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, but we got off topic. You were saying you didn’t want me to go.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Meaning I’ll miss you.” But she refused to beg. She had to have some limits with this man.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready to let you go.”

  “Oh.” The statement pleased her. “Things have really changed since we first met.”

  “No kidding.” His hand slid down to the hem of her dress and began dragging it up her thigh.

  “I guess it’s a good thing that, instead of wanting to smack you, I want to sleep with you.” She boldly put her hand over his groin. Already hard. For her.

  “As if we sleep,” he said on a snicker.

  “Good point. I doubt the neighbors are either given the screaming.” She squeezed.

  He growled. “Don’t make me pull this car over and see if those panties really do have snowmen.”

  “Wanna see?” She pulled her dress up and showed him. He took his gaze off the road, and the car swerved.

  “Fuck. Put that away. We can’t.”

  “Why not?” she said, grabbing his hand and wantonly placing it where she wanted him to touch her.

  “Because I doubt you want to walk into your office party looking as if you’ve just been royally fucked.”

  She sighed. “Good point. I guess, worst case, I could just go the bathroom and take care of myself.”

  “You are an evil woman, Blake Jenners. So very, very evil.”

  She laughed, whereas he made a noise that only made her feel more womanly and powerful. He loved her curves. He seemed to also enjoy her mind. She blossomed in his presence, and he wanted to stick around to spend more time with her.

  Merry Christmas to me.

  She felt blessed as they parked alongside the other cars, lux
ury vehicles for the most part. The BBI office party would draw a crowd from near and far. Why rent a mundane sedan when they could have something posh? BBI dealt in luxury, and it never hurt to play that part.

  The house was lit up. Clear Christmas lights rimmed the roof line and wrapped around the posts holding up the portico. The windows blinked with more Christmas cheer. Even the trees lining the drive were draped in merry apparel.

  The only thing out of place? An inflatable snowman that had fallen over in front of a Santa. Given the stiff breeze, they appeared to be doing a sexual act.

  She snickered.

  Whereas Matt grumbled, “Not funny.” He was so unamused he stalked over and righted the snowman then punched Santa in the gut.

  Which only made her laugh harder. As he came back toward her, she couldn’t help but exclaim, “What did Santa ever do to you?”

  “I’m not a fan,” he said, sliding his arm around her.

  “I think you have a thing for snowmen.”

  “Can you blame me given you’re wearing that dress? I can’t wait to see those panties again.”

  Those panties might not survive if they got any wetter. She appreciated his firm grip as they traversed the drive, slippery in spots as a light snow covered the land.

  Funny how she never fell when she was with him.

  “Think your ass mark is still on the window?” he asked as they hit the first step.

  “Matt!” she squeaked, her foot slipping.

  His arm tightened. “Gotcha.”

  She smiled. Nice to know she could trust him to not let her down.

  As they approached the front door, everything was the same, even the welcome mat. Hugo had bought the chalet fully furnished. Even insisted on keeping the decorations. It made using it as a vacation property simpler. As to how Ariel managed to cook on short notice?

  She didn’t. The party was being catered. To the side of the house, Blake noticed two vans with matching company logos parked close to the side door kitchen entrance.

  Before she could knock, the door swung open, and a glossy-eyed Joleen beamed at her. “About time you showed. Everyone is here already, getting their merry on.”

  The party appeared to be in full swing. Christmas music played from embedded speakers. Staff in elf costumes served, handling the large trays with an ease she’d never manage. People milled about in the great room, voices rising in a cacophony of sound. Just about everyone had a drink in hand.

  “Give me your coat.” Joleen waggled her fingers.

  After she’d shed her outerwear and boots, Matt kept her steady as she slipped on her shoes. He then handed over his own overcoat and removed the snow rubbers from his loafers.

  Joleen waggled a glass in front of her. “Try the eggnog. It is freaking good. And the food!” Her workmate kissed the tips of her fingers.

  “How many nogs have you had?” Blake asked as Joleen weaved in place.

  “Just two plus this one. Why?” She blinked a few more times than necessary.

  Blake frowned. She’d steer clear of it given it appeared to be a little more alcohol laden than she enjoyed.

  With Matt’s fingers lightly touching her back, they entered the great room. Given it was evening, the Christmas tree was lit, the recessed lighting in the room soft. The windows reflected the room and the twenty or so people milling. Many of them familiar faces, such as Kayla, recovered from her attack. Nestor, the other guard Kayla swapped shifts with. But she also saw a few clients in the crowd. Wealthy people who kept the legit side of BBI flush with cash.

  The drink trays circulated—eggnog, wine, frothy-looking ice shots. While they both took a glass, she noticed Matt set his down right away, keeping his word about not drinking. She had only a tiny sip. Creamy and delicious. Didn’t taste spiked. Maybe Joleen had added a little something.

  More than a few people in attendance had made an effort to add a holiday theme to their outfit. Meredith stood by the fireplace—oops, she had to think of her as Ariel now. She wore a snowflake dress of light blue edged in lace. Her contribution to the ugly Christmas outfit. She carried it off with elegance, as did her husband in his matching light blue suit, patterned with silver filigree snowflakes, and a silver tie.

  “There’s Hugo and his wife, Ariel,” she said, pointing. Since the eggnog tasted fine, she drank another mouthful.

  “About time you showed up,” boomed her father as he approached them from behind.

  They pivoted to say hello. Her lips widened in a smile as she beheld her father in full Santa gear—if the jolly red fellow had a fetish for Elvis. Right down to the red suede shoes.

  “When did you get that?” she asked. “It is atrocious and amazing.”

  Only he didn’t return her smile. He wasn’t looking at her at all. Rather his gaze narrowed in on Matt. “What the fuck are you doing here?” growled her dad.

  “You told me to invite him,” she said in confusion, putting down her glass.

  “This is your Arbuckle?” her father huffed, whipping to glance at her for a second.

  “Yes. Why are you so mad? You told me to bring him to the party.”

  “I told you to bring a client with you, not this imposter.” Her father glared at Matt.

  “Are you still going on about that?” drawled a voice she knew but with a tone and expression she didn’t recognize. Matt appeared carved of uncompromising stone. No hint of the lover or the charming man she’d gotten to know.

  Blake peeked at her still scowling father. “You two know each other.” Stated, not asked.

  “In a sense. We met on a job.” Matt’s voice held cold amusement.

  “Met? You stole that commission from me.”

  “Not my fault you were too slow.”

  “I set up that entire deal, and you swooped in and stole it out from under me.” Her dad snorted. “What are you doing with my daughter?”

  “He’s looking for a house,” she said, stepping in, worry nagging at her. Was this about a real estate deal gone bad? It seemed a little extreme, but the alternative just couldn’t be possible.

  “Like fuck he’s here house shopping,” snapped her father. “Exactly what are you up to, Winters?”

  Winters? She glanced at her lover.

  His expression remained flat. “Working. What about you? Don’t tell me you left the business to sell houses.”

  Her father arched a brow. “A man has to make a living somehow. Especially when he has a family.”

  The facts kept colliding. Her head spun as she did her best to ignore what it meant. It helped that Hugo and Ariel wandered close.

  “Hello, I don’t think we’ve met.” Hugo held out his hand. “Hugo Laurentian.”

  For a moment, Matt glanced at her, his expression frozen then grim as he turned to greet their host. “Hello, I’m Mathias Winters.”

  Wait, what? She blinked.

  Someone muttered, “Holy shit. I thought I recognized him from that job in Panama. It’s the Iceman.”

  “Mr. Winters. I’ve heard of you. Why are you here?” Hugo asked.

  “I was asked to hand deliver a present to you.”

  Her father, Blake Sr., blustered, “Since when are you an errand boy?”

  “When the price is right.” Matt’s hand dropped to his pocket, and she could tell the BBI folk from the clients brought to wine and dazzle. The BBI people slid hands into jackets, the ladies tensed, no one relaxed when Matt held out a box that he pulled from his pocket.

  On a positive note, no one shot him. Not in front of outsiders. They wouldn’t act unless the threat was clearly visible.

  Hugo didn’t accept it. He eyed Matt-Arbuckle-Winters. “I don’t accept gifts from strangers.”

  “Then don’t. I was told to deliver it.”

  “And Hugo has refused. Leave or I’ll make you leave,” threatened her father.

  “How long are you going to hold a grudge about what happened in the past?” Matt asked, his tone an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I took out your target.�
��

  “You didn’t just take him out. You destroyed all the evidence we needed to shut down his operation,” Blake Sr. railed.

  “Wait a second, you’re that Winters? The one he’s always complaining about?” Joleen chuckled, but her amusement died as she glanced at Blake, the woman betrayed.

  The truth slapped her hard as she finally put all the pieces together. Matt was a mercenary for hire like her father. She glanced at the present he still held. “You used me to get close to Hugo.”

  He didn’t need to say a word. She saw it in his face.

  She slapped him before stalking away.

  Chapter Eleven

  He led her to the attic he found and took her by a rack. He might have fucked her hard again, if someone hadn’t bloody attacked.

  The look of betrayal on Blake’s face just about killed Mathias. He’d never meant to hurt her. Never meant to fall for her. Definitely never expected she’d find out the truth in such a brutal fashion.

  It didn’t help that her daddy—a man Mathias knew as Roarke—smirked. If Mathias weren’t convinced he’d wind up Swiss-cheesed, he’d have punched him. Then again, he couldn’t exactly blame Roarke. Matt had been sleeping with his daughter.

  “Who gave you the package?”

  The question distracted him from the fleeing Blake. He turned to see Hugo’s wife eying him, a wine glass held between two fingers. She seemed familiar, and drunk. She swayed in her high heels.

  “Have we met?”

  She smiled. “I’m flattered you remember. It’s been awhile.”

  The moment she confirmed, he remembered. “What was it, ten years ago? With that guy in Colombia.” The one who died in a freak accident before Mathias could kill him.

  “Martinez learned the hard way to respect broken glass. It can be so dangerous.” She waggled hers, but it didn’t slosh, the wine in the bottom less than a mouthful.

  He realized the circle around them had widened, with some people ushered to other parts of the room, separating the innocent sheep from the wolves, drinks and food being shoved at them.

  “Let’s cut the bullshit. I’m not here to cause trouble,” Mathias said, spreading his hands.