Bad Boy Holiday (Bad Boy Inc. Book 6)

by Eve Langlais

  He reeled, ears ringing.

  Then someone was swinging at him and yelling, “There’s someone in the kitchen!”

  He’d lost the element of surprise. He hooked his fist and thrust upward, catching the guy in the gut. He kept pummeling the fellow until he slumped to the floor. Matt recognized him. It was the one he’d called Snauzer.

  Click. A muzzle prodded the back of his head, and he raised his hands.

  “Yeah, you better keep those where I can see them. Let’s go, asshole.” Bucky prodded him in the direction of the kitchen and the other guests. Given the muzzle on his head never wavered, Mathias chose to bide his time in the interest of avoiding spillage of his brains on the wide-plank oak floors.

  The many lit candles gave light and shadow to the room. The Boss half turned to face him.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “That’s the dude who had the fight with his girlfriend,” Fatass remarked. “The curvy chick in the snowman dress.”

  “Where is your ho?” Bucky asked.

  “We had a fight. She left. Guess I won’t be getting shit for Christmas,” Mathias lied.

  The Boss didn’t buy it. “Bullshit. All the cars are still here.”

  “Should I go looking for her?” Bucky appeared a little too eager.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her!” Roarke yelled, as he surged to his feet. His leg was bleeding, soaking his flashy sequined pants. Not the worse wound. He’d live if he got medical attention, but he didn’t imagine Blake would be too happy about it.

  No need to guess who shot him, given Bucky yelled, “You want another? Keep running your mouth and I’ll fucking shoot you in the head this time, old man.”

  A haggard-looking Roarke growled but sat back down, and Mathias joined him on the hearth. As The Boss argued with his crew, Mathias managed a quiet, “She’s hiding upstairs.”

  “You should have stayed with her. I had this,” the older guy said.

  Mathias eyed the bleeding leg. “I can see that. What did I miss?”

  “The incompetent idiots thought they could wave some guns around and intimidate everyone into giving them money.”

  “It appears to not be working.”

  Roarke smirked. “They might have drugged us, but we’re not fucking amateurs. Ariel activated a signal disruptor before they took her phone.”

  “Why not take them out?”

  “Because I’m seeing double for one. The fuckers drugged the punch.”

  “Not everyone was drinking.”

  “Too many sober civilians.”

  They could scrub a lot from the public records, but eyewitness accounts? More problematic.

  “Nobody knows me,” he remarked quietly.

  “No, but you’re useless sitting here with me. So much for your marksman skills.”

  “I let Joleen have the gun,” he grumbled.

  “You only brought one gun?” Roarke asked.

  “It’s more than you bothered to bring.”

  “It didn’t go with the outfit,” admitted the older man. “Might have been hard to explain to my girlfriend. She’s got a thing for the king and has been groping me all night.”

  The problem with dating non-mercenaries was they tended to freak out and ask things like, “Why do you own a gun? Have you ever killed someone? Why is your home booby-trapped?”

  “Is anyone armed?”

  “I’ve got a small knife strapped to my ankle, and I’m sure a few others have stuff on them, but we have to be cautious. Civilians are watching,” Roarke reminded. Some of the wealthy guests might be taken aback to see people they knew taking out criminals.

  “They’re getting pissy,” Mathias observed as The Boss screamed, “Transfer the fucking money now!”

  “I can’t,” blubbered the man who’d offered to pay. “It’s not working.”

  “You’re fucking lying.” The gun lifted and aimed for the fellow’s head.

  Hugo stepped in. “It’s not his fault. Our phones aren’t connecting.”

  It was Fatass—who probably spent a lot of time gaming online when not holding people hostage—who said, “Fancy place like this has gotta have internet. Get him to use his home computer.”

  Hugo shrugged. “Actually, I don’t have anything set up yet. Just moved in and all.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ. You’re a fucking billionaire. I thought you assholes were connected to the net twenty-four fucking seven,” The Boss ranted.

  “Maybe someone could give him a hotspot?” a sniffling blonde suggested.

  She and a few others looked genuinely terrified. He could almost make a game of guessing who was a merc versus a civvie.

  “Don’t be stupid. No one has any service,” said a brunette, who looked more excited than properly scared.

  “There’s such a thing as a satellite phone, you know,” argued the blonde with mascara streaks funneling down her cheeks.

  “Would you shut the fuck up?” The Boss was losing his patience, and Bucky grinned as he swung the muzzle of his gun back and forth, itching for a reason to use it.

  Pshhhhh. There was a loud sizzle, and then billowing smoke steamed out from behind the fire screen as more water landed on the live fire.

  “What the fuck now?” screamed The Boss before hacking.

  Mathias shut his stinging eyes against the smoke. Heard the yelling, the coughing.

  In the commotion that followed, Matt lunged toward the last place he’d recalled seeing Snauzer and a gun fired. Since he didn’t feel any pain, it didn’t appear to be aimed at him.

  “Hugo!” Ariel screamed, identifying the victim.

  It subdued the still drugged crowd, just like the gun pointed at his face had Matt lacing fingers over his head again and marching to join the rest of them. He sat on the sooty hearth as The Boss screamed that someone had to be on the roof. Bucky went upstairs to check, and Matt went cold. Surely Blake had hidden herself?

  A hacking cough drew his attention to the dirty hearth. Someone had poured water down the chimney. He wanted to say Joleen did it as part of her diversion, but what if she hadn’t?

  What if… He glanced at the stairs then back at the fireplace, noticing the odd lump lying in it. Roarke sat nearby, putting pressure on his leg.

  “Cover me,” Matt whispered, having a sudden curiosity.

  Roarke didn’t question; he just began making a scene, bellowing about how he couldn’t feel his leg. And he needed help. And whiskey. Maybe a joint.

  It drew attention to the wounded man as Mathias leaned to grab the sodden lump in the hearth. The fabric tore the moment he tugged, but it held long enough to reveal the present inside the sack.

  “Someone shut him the fuck up!” The Boss bellowed.

  “Maybe we should shoot him?” A dubious suggestion by Snauzer.

  “Go ahead.”

  “You go ahead. You said this would be a simple robbery.”

  “Did you think the guns were just for show?” was The Boss’ sarcastic reply.

  As they argued, Mathias tucked the gun into the back of his pants. Then he lunged forward and slapped Roarke, exclaiming, “Get a grip!”

  That quieted the older man, who glared.

  “About fucking time,” The Boss said. “Couldn’t hear myself think.”

  “Because you were acting so intelligent before,” someone muttered.

  “Who said that?” The Boss glared at everyone suspiciously before snorting in disgust. “I’ve fucking had it. No more dicking around. Since the signal is shit in the mountains, let’s take a few of them to town. Grab Laurentian’s wife and those two.” He pointed to some guests.

  Mathias could have sworn he heard a scream from upstairs. He’d run out of time. “Hey, asshole, I think we’re all tired of listening to your useless lips flapping.” As he stepped past Ariel, he nudged her and dropped a knitting needle into her lap.

  “Sit down—” The Boss opened his yap, and Mathias shut it.

  Bang!

  He immediately
ducked and whirled, aiming for Snauzer next, but the man moved, and his shot missed. His second one didn’t, and another attacker went down. As for Fatass? He blubbered on the floor. Ariel stood over him with the knitting needle, the end of it bloody.

  The blonde was in absolute hysterics. The brunette gaped, mouth and eyes wide open. While Roarke bellowed, “Blake!”

  As if Mathias needed a reminder there was still at least one invader in the house.

  He bolted for the stairs and took them two at a time as he pounded to the second floor then down the hall to the master bedroom. He halted upon seeing Blake through the window, outside on the balcony, held in a chokehold by the same asshole who’d taken Mathias prisoner.

  Bucky was about to regret the choices he’d made in life.

  “Drop it!” Bucky screamed. “Or I will blow her brains out.”

  Mathias set the gun down in plain sight before he entered the room, hands raised. “Let her go. You’ve lost.”

  “Not while I have a hostage, I haven’t. Rich mother fuckers. I thought Barry was nuts when he suggested coming after a bunch of you bastards, but look at this place. This bedroom is probably worth more than I make in a year.”

  “Not a reason to steal it.”

  “It’s redistributing. It’s not fair you fuckers get all the nice shit and the breaks.”

  “Breaks?” He snorted, taking a single step. “I was in the foster care system. I worked my ass off for the things I have. And so did those people downstairs.”

  Blake’s eyes were shiny with fear, but she kept her gaze on him. His Blake, who—given the snow clinging to her and the rawness of her skin—was the stupid, brave soul up on the rooftop.

  “I’m tired of working. My bosses always end up being assholes.”

  “Says the guy holding a woman hostage. Big man, eh?” Mathias taunted.

  “I should have shot you earlier.” Bucky shoved Blake to the side, and she stumbled, hitting the ground with her knees as the gun in asshole’s other hand aimed at Mathias.

  This would hurt if he didn’t move fast. A slight twitch gave him all the warning he needed to duck the bullet that sailed overhead.

  Blake screamed, “No!” and then lunged, shoving the guy hard enough he toppled over the balcony railing, his scream cut short when he landed.

  A half-second later, Mathias had her in his arms. “Fuck me, are you okay?” he asked before grabbing her by the cheeks to give her a hot kiss.

  She trembled in his arms. “Yes. No. I’m going to have some scrapes and bruises.”

  “You were the one who dropped that stuff down the chimney,” he stated.

  She nodded.

  He glanced up and inwardly shuddered. That would have been a nasty fall if she’d slipped. “You saved us,” he told her, knowing she needed something to bolster her. He could see how fragile she was now. Close to coming apart.

  “My dad?”

  “Is injured but I suspect he’ll recover. Hugo, though, might be a tad more serious.”

  “And the bad guys?”

  He shook his head.

  “They’re all dead,” she whispered, her gaze going to the railing. He brought it back to focus on him.

  “Don’t you dare feel bad about what you had to do.”

  She pressed her face to his chest. “I couldn’t let him shoot you. Couldn’t.”

  She shook in his arms as he carried her back inside the bedroom, only to see Roarke leaning in the doorway, a gun loosely held in his hand, a belt strapped tight above the wound on his leg.

  “Blake.” The man sounded broken.

  With a cry, Blake swung out of Mathias’s arms and ran to her father. “Daddy! Are you okay?”

  “’Tis but a flesh wound.” Roarke kept his tone light.

  Blake burst into tears.

  Father and daughter hugged, but over her head, Roarke said, “You need to get out of here.”

  “Still trying to get rid of me?” Mathias said with a sneer. “Why don’t we ask Blake what she wants?”

  “I want him to stay, Daddy,” she sniffled.

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. The cops are on their way.”

  No need to say more.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

  Mathias could see the torn expression on Roarke’s face. Then the resignation. “I’m gonna see if that bathroom has any gauze for my leg.” A not so subtle attempt to leave them alone.

  Roarke limped off, and Blake hugged herself. “I guess this is goodbye.”

  “I don’t want to leave,” he said as he crossed the room in long strides and pulled her into his arms.

  She sighed against him. “And I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “Not much of a choice. I killed at least three men downstairs, and if anyone asks, I tossed the guy off the balcony, too.”

  “I am not going to let you take the blame. I did it. I’ll tell the police it was self-defense.”

  “Don’t do that. What if you get a dick DA?”

  “I have to. You don’t understand. I’m a terrible liar.”

  Was she seriously going to argue? He imagined he could hear the sirens. He had to leave now while he could. But what of Blake? There was so much left to say.

  Only one thing left for him to do.

  Winters the Iceman had to hurry on his way, before the cops could come, and ruin his fun, he kidnapped Blake and ran away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Come on, it's lovely weather for a car ride and kidnapping by you.

  Blake could have protested when Matt tossed her over her shoulder. At the very least she could have yelled for her father. Instead, as Matt jogged down the steps, she tried to quell her shaking.

  She’d killed a man.

  To save another.

  No one she cared about had died today. And Mathias was abducting her she realized as he hit the main floor.

  It was Joleen who said, “Hey, what are you doing with Blake?”

  “Making sure she doesn’t have to lie. I hear she sucks at it.”

  “Good plan,” was Joleen’s helpful reply.

  As for the rest, they seemed more interested in discussing the brazenness of today’s thieves as Matt strutted out the door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he tossed her into his car.

  “Somewhere that isn’t here.” The tires spun as he sped away.

  “Are you making me a felon fleeing the cops?” she asked as he turned off onto a side road before the distant flashing lights could pass them.

  “I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

  “My dad needs me.”

  “I need you, too.”

  “Why? Do you still have a use for me?” She hadn’t quite forgotten the revelations of earlier. What he’d done to save them didn’t fix everything.

  He slammed on the brakes, jolting them both, and for a moment, as he gripped the wheel so hard, she wondered if he’d bend it.

  Slowly, he took a breath and said, “Honestly? I didn’t need you to accomplish my mission.”

  “How else would you have met Hugo?”

  He snorted. “Would you like me to count the ways? I could have found out when his private jet was arriving and met him at the airport. Knocked on his door and handed it over. Broken into his house and left it on his pillow.”

  “So why seduce me?”

  “Because I couldn’t help myself.” The man looking at her with emotion was anything but cold. That name, Iceman, didn’t describe the person she’d come to know.

  “And now that your mission is done?”

  “I still want you.”

  “What makes you think I feel the same?”

  “Tell me you don’t and I’ll leave you alone. Right now.”

  She glanced around. “In the middle of nowhere?”

  “You know what I mean. If you don’t want to see me again, then I’ll leave for good and never bother you again.”

  “What if I don’t want that?” She picked at a loose thread on her ruined dre
ss. “I like you, Matt. A lot.”

  “I’m a killer, Blake.”

  “So’s my dad.” She shrugged. “If I can love him, then…” She caught herself and blushed hard before stammering, “I’m not saying I love you. It’s too soon. I—”

  He leaned over the console to kiss her. “Shut up.”

  “But…”

  “Seriously, Blake. We don’t need to say anything more right now other than let’s give this thing a chance.”

  “So I shouldn’t say that I’m feeling very warm and fuzzy toward you right now? And horny. How fast can you make it to town?”

  “Not as fast as I’d like, given where your hand is sitting,” he growled, putting the car into gear.

  “You might want to stay parked for a few more minutes,” she purred as she unzipped his pants.

  “Here?”

  “Got a problem with steaming the windows in your rental?”

  “No.”

  His voice didn’t sound steady as she grabbed his cock in her hands and squeezed him tight. The hard flesh throbbed in her grip, the tip pearling. She undid her seatbelt and leaned over, lapping at the salty drop, hearing him suck in a breath.

  When she peeked at him, it was to see him staring at her, groaning as she bathed the head of his dick with her tongue. Then, with one hand pumping him, she took him into her mouth and sucked.

  He groaned. “Fuck, yes.”

  She worked his cock, pumping it, sucking it, making it hard and ready. She explored every intimate inch of it, using her tongue to trace the pulsing veins, her lips to tease the soft skin of the head. Only when he panted and appeared as if he’d explode did she finally hike up her dress and straddle him.

  “Yes,” he hissed.

  She bounced on his dick, feeling the steering wheel at her back, his hands on her waist, her head pressing against the roof of the car. It wasn’t easy to move, but he helped, thrusting up into her, finding her sweet spot. Hitting it over and over again.

  As she gasped, he completely took over, his grip on her rocking her on his shaft, driving himself deep. She gasped in pleasure as her clit rubbed against him. Her pussy quivered. Clenching. Her orgasm built inside.

  Faster, he slid her back and forth, increasing the friction. Bringing her to the edge.