The Barrington Billionaires Collection 1

by Danielle Stewart

  As Maggie stretched under Libby’s booth for a runaway cup, four tiny bruises peeked out from under the sleeve of her cotton uniform shirt. Most people would think those were too small to be anything of consequence. But Libby knew what it looked like two or three days after someone pressed their fingers so hard into your arm that it made marks. The spacing, the size, told her exactly what she’d been wondering since she first saw Maggie.

  “Excuse me,” Libby said, clearing her throat nervously. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” Maggie answered brightly.

  “I heard you two talking and—” Libby lowered her voice and leaned in, “I’m wondering if you need any help.”

  “I, um . . .” Maggie twisted her gentle face up in confusion and then lit with understanding. “Oh, you mean are we hiring? I think we might be. I can get you an application.”

  “No,” Libby said shaking off that idea. She pulled sunglasses from her face and whispered again. “I’m wondering if you need any help with your boyfriend. Do you feel unsafe or scared? I can help you if you are. No one should be putting their hands on you.” Libby gestured at the now covered spot where she’d seen the finger-sized bruises.

  “Excuse me?” Maggie asked, instinctively covering her arm. “That’s none of your business. Corey would never—I mean, you misunderstood our conversation. I’m completely fine.”

  “It’s all right if you aren’t. I understand how embarrassing it is; how you want to keep the truth from your friends so they don’t think less of you. But in the end your friends are the only ones who can really help you.”

  “Listen,” Maggie said gently, “my shift is over. Latanya will take over your table if you need anything. I appreciate your concern, but really, I’m fine.”

  Maggie walked away briskly, pulled her apron off, and sped through the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

  Libby jumped when her phone began to skip across the table, vibrating with a string of text messages. It was Corey. He was talking about the play he’d scored tickets to that night. He wanted to take her because she was always so brilliant about modern theater, and he loved hearing her opinions. She wondered for a moment where he would tell Maggie he was. What lie he would spin. And if she challenged him, what he would do to her.

  She texted back a quick note. That sounds great. Pick me up at nine? She’d need to get home, change, and get her head together. Every stray thought she’d been having, every mixed-up feeling, now attached itself to the next, until it all became crystal clear. She knew what to do, when to do it, and how. Now she just had to be sure she had the courage.

  Chapter 25

  James considered lots of options for hurting Corey and permanently removing him from Libby’s life. The most rewarding would have been putting his fist through the guy’s face. But a man in his position had to be more tactful. He was at the helm of West Oil, doing everything he could to clean up its image. Getting tossed in jail on assault charges would bring him unwanted attention. And there were worse ways to hurt a man than mere physical pain.

  What he couldn’t decide was what to do about Libby. He’d considered driving to her house and telling her what he planned. Maybe she just needed to be snapped out of this. If he could talk to her, reason with her, then all of this garbage with Corey would go away. But no, the right thing to do was take him out of the equation first.

  Over the next few hours he dug into every aspect of Corey’s life. “Is this everything?” he asked Kent, West Oil’s security director.

  “Yep,” he shot back through his gap-toothed smile. He’d been with the company for fifteen years, coming straight out of the military and trying to adjust to civilian life again. He’d been well connected with police and federal agencies and had even gotten James out of some trouble when he was young. When there was information to be dug up, Kent had the right shovel. “He’s pretty squeaky clean. Ivy League education. Good family. Good job.”

  “No trouble at all with domestic violence?” James scanned the papers in front of him, looking for red flags he could exploit.

  “Nope. Now that doesn’t mean he’s never had accusations against him, but his father seems pretty well connected and could likely quiet something if needed.” Kent plopped down on the chair across from James and made himself comfortable. “What’s his deal?”

  James looked up and considered how much he should share. Kent was trusted and loyal to the company. “He likes to rough up his girlfriends and right now one of his girlfriends is someone I care about. I want to get a picture of what I’m dealing with before I dismantle his life brick by brick. Which I fully intend to do. But it helps to know if he’s some idiot who just gets his kick this way or a psychopath who I better bury deep so he can’t come back on me down the road.

  “If he’s stayed under the radar this long, he’s probably a charismatic guy who has a connected family that keeps him out of trouble. The law firm he works for is one of the biggest in the state. I can tell you there is no way they would tolerate even a rumor that he was abusing someone. Maybe threaten that? It might be enough.”

  “I want him in jail,” James said flatly, surprising even himself with the revelation. “What I’d really like is to stomp on him until I see what his guts look like, but I’ll settle for jail.”

  “In order to do that you’d need to prove a crime was committed, have witnesses willing to testify, and evidence to support that. Is your friend willing to testify against him?”

  “I don’t know. We’re not talking right now.”

  “But you know he’s abusing her?”

  “No,” James admitted. “I know he did abuse her when they dated years ago.”

  Kent drew in a deep breath. “Guys who beat on girls are some of my least favorite criminals. I’ve knocked plenty of them around in my day. But I think you’re going to have to give this some more thought. You aren’t in a position right now to be exposed for attacking someone, physically or otherwise. That kind of attention could hurt West Oil, and this is not the time for such a risk.”

  “Any suggestion then?” James asked, thinking of Libby and what a terrible situation she might be in right this moment.

  “I’d go the work angle. Find a way, through all your contacts, to leak a rumor that he’s a violent guy with a history of covered-up domestic abuse. Say that you’ve heard it’s on the verge of surfacing and people should steer clear of him . . . and maybe even the whole firm. That’ll at least get their ears perked up and have him on the defensive.”

  “And if he takes that anger out on my friend?” James asked, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly. “I don’t want to put her in more danger.”

  “I don’t have that answer,” Kent admitted. “What I do know is your gut is telling you to go drive this guy’s head through a wall. But I’m telling you it’s a bad idea. These dudes are slimy, and they find a way to slither out of anything.”

  “Thanks, Kent,” James said, standing and extending his hand for a shake, his way of ending this meeting. It had run its course. James could appreciate the advice, but it didn’t mean he intended to take it. He certainly hadn’t taken the physical violence option off the table. He hadn’t taken anything off the table yet.

  What he had to know was where Corey was right now, if Libby was with him, and if she was all right. Now that he had this file, he could find out. Trace and track him, then decide what to do.

  Chapter 26

  When Corey’s car pulled up in front of Libby’s house, she didn’t give him time to get out and ring the doorbell. She was hopping down the stairs before he could even get his car door open. “Ready?” she asked, with a nervous jitter in her voice.

  “Oh, yeah, I was going to be a gentleman and come up to the door and get you properly.” He was slumping back into the driver seat just as she settled into the passenger seat.

  “It’s no problem,” she said, waving him off dismissively. “I’m excited to get to this show. It’s getting great reviews.”

>   “I was thinking,” he said as he slipped his hand over hers. Their physical contact over the last week had been little to none. She’d been keeping him at a distance, but slowly he’d started ignoring those boundaries. “Things are going so well. Maybe we should just stay here tonight instead of seeing the show.”

  A wave of panic rushed over her. “I want to see the show,” she said assertively. When she read the twitch of his unsatisfied eyelids, she corrected herself. “But we could come back here after. Or go to your place.”

  “Not my place,” he said quickly, and she knew why. Maggie would likely be moving boxes in tonight. “You sure you want to see the show?” he asked, calming and flashing puppy dog eyes at her. Corey was a well-practiced manipulator. He was still on thin ice with her, still trying to win her back. He would try to take a gentler hand, use kinder words, put on a better act. Every now and then she’d see him slip into an old habit then quickly correct himself.

  “I really want to see it,” she replied with a coy smile. “Please?”

  “All right, how can I say no to that?” He put the car in gear and sped off down the street. A weight lifted off her chest. She needed to see the show. Getting there, to that very public place, was all part of the plan. If he’d had insisted they stay at her house, just the two of them, then nothing would have worked. And she’d have been at his mercy. Something she did not want.

  Pulling into a parking spot in front of the small community theater, Corey hopped out of the car and ran around to open her door. What a gentleman he is. It was almost easy to forget the times he’d shoved her in the car and slammed the door, narrowly missing one of her limbs . . . but she hadn’t forgotten. She never would.

  “Thank you,” she smiled, looping her arm in his. “There’s something I wanted to tell you.” They stepped into the crowded line at the entryway of the theater, and she had to speak up so he could hear her. “I went to see Maggie today.”

  “Maggie?” Corey asked, screwing his face up in shock.

  “Yes,” Libby said confidently as she pulled her arm away. “I sat there for a while just looking at her. Watching her.”

  Corey’s face never changed. It stayed all twisted up and furrowed as if, just like every mother always threatened, it was stuck that way.

  “It’s funny how much of myself I saw in her. The way she apologized to anyone who would listen. The way she raced around trying to make sure no one was waiting for anything. I was wondering if she was like that when you met her or if you’ve crushed her down to that, the way you did with me.”

  “Libby,” he said, finally seeming to grasp reality. “I told you why I wanted to see you again. I’m a different man now. The mistakes you and I made—”

  She cut him off. “I made one mistake. That’s it. I stayed with you when I deserved better. What you did were not mistakes. They were choices.”

  “Fine,” he said, throwing his arms up, a physical explosion that previously would have made Libby duck, but not this time. “Call it whatever you want, but I’m not that guy anymore. You shouldn’t have gone to see Maggie. I told you my relationship with her is casual, and you shouldn’t have interjected yourself like that.”

  “You asked her to move in,” Libby said with a half-smile of sheer triumph. Corey was such a fast talker and so quick-witted that he could confuse people right out of their logic. But not Libby, not tonight.

  “You talked to her?” His face turned blood red. She remembered the precursors to abuse very well, and this was one of them. “You had no right to do that. What did you say to her? What exactly did you say?”

  “Are you worried I’m taking your little play toy away from you? Worried she won’t be there to beat on when you get home?” Libby’s voice was taunting now. The beauty of a public setting. In the past, she’d be forced to eventually be alone with him, so speaking out like this would never be smart. But she didn’t live with him now. She didn’t ever have to see him again. There was something empowering about that.

  “I told you I’ve changed,” he snarled.

  “I saw the bruises,” she whispered coldly. “I saw them.”

  One of his hands came up to her wrist and snagged it abruptly, clenching down. He yanked her in toward him and stared angrily down at her.

  “Hit me,” she begged. “Please, right out here where everyone can see it. I’m sure there are cameras around. Do it. Lose your job. Lose your reputation. Go to jail. I’m begging you. We both know I can take a hit, so it would be completely worth it to me.”

  “You acted like you wanted to get back together,” he hissed, his mouth inches from hers.

  “I’m an actress.” She laughed. The thing about knowing a man’s triggers was that the skill once used to avoid them at all costs could be spun easily to set him off. He hated being laughed at. It was the one thing that always sent him through the roof. If he thought he was the butt of a joke, steam would come shooting out his ears. “I wouldn’t be with you if it meant I could save our entire species from extinction. You are a pathetic, aging, manipulative coward who preys on young women to feed your desperate need to feel superior.” His hand squeezed her wrist so tightly now she could feel the blood being cut off from her fingers. Hit me, she thought over and over again. Hit me right here in public.

  “You stupid bitch,” he barked, and a few heads turned toward them. He yanked her to the back of the line where less people were gathered and hissed into her face. “You have no idea who you are dealing with. Do you think you can even touch me? I am going to destroy you. The things I used to do to you will be nothing compared to what I’ll do now.”

  “You mean the way you used to slam me against the wall or lock me in the bathroom? The way you used to yank handfuls of my hair out because I forgot your coffee in the morning? You tormented me. You made me think I was stupid and useless. The only thing worse than the way you treated me was the way you talked to me. I was practically a child and you wormed your way into my brain and fucked everything up.”

  “I should have thrown you off that balcony when I had the chance.”

  A memory branded into her brain grew hot and red. One night in a hotel after a friend’s wedding, they’d argued about the way she’d been too affectionate to one of his other friends. He shoved her out onto the balcony of the eleventh floor and bent her over the railing, threatening to push her.

  “I should have,” he grunted out. “I don’t know why I was even wasting my time trying to get you back. You weren’t worth it the first time.”

  “Seven broken ribs, a fractured elbow, two cracked teeth, broken toes, and the list goes on and on. You weren’t worth it. And you haven’t changed a bit.” Her voice was loud, pulling many curious onlookers their way. Perfect. “And I’m going to take you down.”

  “Then why the hell are you here fucking with me if you know what I’m capable of?”

  “You may not have changed,” she asserted loudly, “but I sure as hell have. I will press charges for the bruise you’re leaving on me tonight. I will talk to Maggie and get her to press charges too. I’ll talk to every woman you’ve dated until our voices are so loud your family can’t silence us. I’m guessing I’ll hear a lot of the same thing over and over again. You don’t seem to change your tactics.”

  “I will kill you,” he said, raising one hand up to her shoulder, his thumb pressing hard on her neck.

  “Say that a little louder will you?” she asked, raising her purse up slightly. “I’m sure the recorder on my phone picked it up, but I don’t want to take any chances. Death threats play well in court; you know that.”

  He let go of her wrist and grabbed for her purse but she folded her arm quickly, locking it in her elbow. “If you want to make a scene here, I’ll be happy to start screaming.”

  “You don’t want me leaving right now without having what I want. Give me the phone. I won’t let Maggie testify. You want that on your conscience?”

  “Every second I let her stay with you, now that I know for sure
you’re hurting her, is something I’ll have on my conscience. This is over, Corey. You did this to yourself.”

  “Give me the phone,” he demanded, making another lame attempt to snatch the bag without drawing too much attention.

  “Go fuck yourself,” she bit back.

  His eyes glazed over in that way they always did before he lashed out. His mouth pursed so tightly his chin creased.

  Cocking back his fist, his other hand grabbed her throat and he struck. Instantly she saw stars, stumbled backward, and tried to hang on to the purse that held the very important recording, but it slipped from her hands as she hit the ground.

  Although everything went quiet for a moment, sounds quickly began to trickle back into her throbbing eardrums. “Are you all right?” a man asked as he slid down by her side. She blinked, trying to refocus her eyes as someone put a piece of cloth or towel up to her forehead. She could feel the skin was split and knew it must be bleeding. This was perfect.

  Other voices drew her attention as two unidentified blobs scuffled by her feet. Blinking hard again she tried to make out what was happening, but her eyes couldn’t reconnect with her brain yet.

  “I can’t believe he hit you,” one of the men was saying as he put more pressure on the cut on her head.

  “It’s my fault,” she sobbed, putting all her acting lessons into play. “I shouldn’t have made him angry. I know better. I know what happens when you make him angry.”

  “No,” scolded the man, now accompanied by his wife who look equally appalled. “This is not your fault. Has he done this to you before?”

  “If I just do what he says, he wouldn’t have to. He’s a good man. They wouldn’t have hired him at Waverly, Stone, and Mitch if he was bad.”

  “He works with Steven Waverly?” the woman asked, covering her mouth with a well-manicured hand. “Joseph, call Steven this minute. Call the police. What a monster.”