Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  Nothing.

  A whole shitload of nothing.

  Which meant I couldn't hide behind a car or even a fucking trashcan unless I made it down to the Exotic Ladies' Club. And I couldn't go inside any buildings without either breaking in...or going to the Exotic Ladies' Club.

  All of that meant that once I ran, I had to go in the opposite direction because there was no way Julius would ever think I'd do something as stupid as not go for the easiest place to hide.

  Suddenly, rapid-fire gunshots cut through the night, and I stopped thinking. As Julius and the shooter turned toward the sounds, I jumped up and ran. Pain laced through my side, and fresh blood soaked into my shirt. I pressed my hand to my side as I tried to gain traction on the pavement that was slick with my blood. I didn't look back, didn't second-guess my choice.

  I just ran.

  I was a few feet down the sidewalk when I heard a shout behind me. Shit. I didn't even slow down. I wasn't that stupid.

  A sharp crack filled the air and then a chip of brick nicked my cheek as a bullet hit the building I passed.

  Shit!

  I rubbed the back of my hand across my forehead as blood dripped down into my eye, but I didn't slow down. I could hear people running after me, but no more gunshots. Contrary to what action films and cop shows would have people believe, shooting a gun at a moving target while running wasn't exactly easy.

  I cut a sharp turn left, nearly lost my balance, stumbled a couple steps, then kept going. The alley was nearly black, but I knew it well enough to know where it led. I'd grown up on these streets, spent years moving through them, running from bullies, or running after someone myself.

  Twenty-five feet to the fence, then through the cut in the links that had never been repaired. Another twenty-five feet and I came out the other side. I went right, made it a few yards down the sidewalk...and slipped on a patch of ice.

  I twisted as I fell, let my hip take the brunt of it. I put my hand down, leaving a bloody print as I pushed myself up. The adrenaline that had been fueling me was starting to ebb, and I knew I had to get someplace safe soon.

  My entire left side felt like it was on fire, and each step was excruciating, but I kept running. It wasn't just my life I was running for. I was running for my mother, for Bryne, for a life I hadn't even realized I wanted until now.

  I turned down another alley, ducked through a side door that hadn't been latched in about fifteen years, cut through the abandoned storehouse, and came out behind the local hardware store. A couple more feet and I ducked into yet another alley, finally allowing myself to stop.

  I leaned against the wall, each breath an agony. I couldn't hear anyone pursuing me anymore, but that didn't mean I was safe.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent off a text to my mother. She needed to get somewhere safe until I figured out what had actually happened, and what I was going to do about it. I couldn't get her involved in the middle of this.

  As soon as I sent it, I closed my eyes to keep my head from swimming. I couldn't stay out here, and I couldn't go home. I knew my mom would do as I asked, but I still didn't want to lead Julius or anyone else back there. Normally, if I needed some place to crash, I would've gone to Force. He was in Booker's gang but was a decent guy. More or less. But I couldn't trust anyone right now.

  And that's when I realized I did have one place I could be safe. One person I could trust.

  Chapter Two

  Bryne

  I could still feel that last kiss.

  Right after he left, I stripped my bed, put everything into the washer, then taken a long, hot shower. I let the expensive shower head send water pounding down into my muscles, hoping it'd help me relax. By the time I got out, switched the laundry into the dryer, and made up my bed again, I was fully awake and not really relaxed at all.

  Sex with Dax had made me feel all limp and boneless, but between that goodbye kiss, and the feeling I had that he wasn't being entirely honest with me, tension had returned almost immediately, and I hadn't been able to get rid of it.

  So now, a little more than an hour after Dax left, I was in my robe, lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Even though I'd washed off the scent of him, put fresh sheets and blankets on the bed, I could still feel Dax all around me. Feel the weight of his body on mine, feel him inside me, taking me, and making me his.

  And I was. His. I'd gone into whatever this was with my eyes open, knowing that he didn't want a relationship. I hadn't wanted one at the time either. I wasn't even sure I wanted one now. What I did know I wanted was him. I didn't want to feel anyone else's lips on mine or know what it was like to have someone else in my bed. He was the only man I'd ever had sex with, and right now, he was the only one I wanted. I didn't know what that meant for the future, but for right now, it meant I couldn't sleep.

  Even if I could've slept, I probably would've dreamed about him. I was the kind of person who, if my blanket fell off in the middle of the night, I'd dream about snow. Which meant the aches in my body would most likely translate into a sex dream with Dax Prevot in a starring role.

  I sighed and ran my hand over my face. I shouldn't be getting any ideas about things going anywhere with Dax. His mom had seemed nice when I met her, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. My mom's father had been a shit parent, abandoning one kid for another, but my uncle, Gavin Manning, would be a wonderful father.

  There was still a chance Dax could rise to the potential I knew lived inside him, that he could be the sort of man I could have a future with. I knew there were things he wasn't telling me, and that those things could probably destroy him if he didn't stop. But I didn't know how to make him stop, how to make him choose the better life.

  Choose me.

  “Dammit, Dax,” I muttered. “Where are you and what the hell are you doing?”

  The biggest problem with not knowing what he was hiding wasn't the fact that he felt like he needed to keep things from me, but rather that my imagination wasn't doing me any favors. All sorts of crazy thoughts were racing through my head, all the possible explanations of where he was and what he was doing. No matter how crazy they were.

  Like that Dax had to go help Georgie bury a body.

  Or that he was secretly married and had to go home to his gorgeous model wife and their seven beautiful children.

  Or he was a drug dealer and had to go make sure things were running smoothly on his turf.

  Sometimes they were new, wild fantasies that had nothing funny about them at all. Sometimes they were things that made me cringe because I knew they were entirely possible. Sometimes they were the same one over and over again.

  No matter what they were, they kept me from being able to go back to sleep, so when my phone started ringing, I was awake enough to be able to roll over and see it was Dax.

  Shit.

  I was not in the right mindset to talk to him, not right now. I was too conflicted. And I still felt him too much. He made it hard for me to think on the best of days.

  But if he was calling this early, after he'd only seen me ninety minutes ago, there had to be a good reason. For all he knew, I was sleeping.

  Unless he wanted to remind me of the statement he made right before he left – that nobody except him got to see me naked. The reminder made me warm all over. And that was what made me pick up the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Bryne?”

  I sat up straight, every cell in my body on alert. He'd only said my name, but my gut said that something was wrong.

  “Are you okay?”

  I heard a sound that I supposed could've been a laugh, but there was so much pain in it that it made my stomach twist.

  “Dax?”

  “I'm here.”

  Fear was starting to creep in with cold fingers. I wasn't panicking, but if I didn't get answers soon, I was pretty sure that would change.

  “Come downstairs.”

  I climbed out of bed before I fully thought it through. Something h
ad to be wrong. He could've told the doorman I was expecting him, and they would've buzzed me to ask if he could come up.

  “Where are you?” I asked as I tightened the belt on my robe.

  “Parking garage.”

  “I'm on my way.” I hung up the phone and grabbed a pair of shoes.

  The place where I was staying wasn't mine, but my uncle and his wife had told me to consider it my home. It hadn't mattered to Gavin that he'd had no clue I existed until I showed up at his club a few weeks ago. I was family, and not simply because we shared blood.

  I absolutely loved Gavin and Carrie, but at the moment, I was glad they were visiting Carrie's friend, Krissy, in LA. Somehow, I didn't think they'd approve of me walking down to the parking garage at four o'clock in the morning to sneak one of their employees into the loft without going through the front door.

  Gavin would've lectured me that the entire purpose of living in a secure building with a doorman was to ensure that no one got in who wasn't supposed to, but leaving Dax out in the cold wasn't an option. If he'd snuck into the parking garage and called me rather than simply going to the front door, it meant that he had a good reason for it. And while I knew he was hiding things from me, I trusted that he wouldn't have chosen this option unless he had a very good reason.

  The building was quiet, or at least as quiet as things ever got in New York City. Most people who'd gone out to enjoy their Friday night had come in already, and people who had to get up early on Saturday weren't up yet. That was good since I was halfway to the garage when I realized I was only wearing my robe and a pair of shoes. Not that my robe didn't cover all the essentials, but if I'd thought about it, I probably would've put on actual clothes before leaving the loft.

  The moment I opened the door into the garage, however, I forgot about everything but him.

  And then he stepped out of the shadows.

  “Dax!”

  I ran to him as he slumped against the wall. He was covered in blood. A gash on his forehead was crusted with dried blood, and I hoped that was the source of everything on his face. I knew it wasn't the reason his shirt and part of his jeans were soaked. The hand on his side told me there was something worse than a minor scrape underneath.

  “Bryne.” His voice was even weaker than it had been on the phone and I wondered just how much blood he'd lost.

  I wrapped my arm around his waist, and he hung his arm around my shoulders. Despite the difference in our heights, he leaned on me and we made our way back to the door. I punched in the code, then we began our slow walk up the stairs. I'd taken the elevator most of the way down, but I wasn't going to risk that now. There was a chance someone might see us here, but it would've been a bigger risk to take the elevators.

  I wanted to ask him what happened, but more than that, I wanted to yell at him for getting himself hurt. I didn't know what he'd been out doing, but there was no way in hell he'd just happened into a dangerous situation. I wasn't naive. Whatever he'd left the loft to go do had resulted in this.

  I didn't say anything though. I needed to get him cleaned up and take a look at his injuries. The head, I was pretty sure I could just bandage, but I was worried that whatever had happened to his side would be beyond my medical capabilities. He hadn't gone to a hospital – yet another reason why I knew this wasn’t due to some innocent stroll through the city. If it had been an accident or a mugging or something like that, he would've just gone to the hospital himself. Or he would've gone home to his mother. He wouldn't have come here.

  The hallway was still empty when I pushed open the door, and it was a good thing too. Dax was managing to stay on his feet, but he leaned on me more heavily with each floor, and I was starting to feel it. He was lean, but it was all muscle, and if he passed out, I'd never be able to carry him myself.

  “Not too much farther,” I said between clenched teeth.

  “I'm fine.” His voice was faint. “Worry about yourself.”

  “Want me to leave your ass right here?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  I got the chuckle I'd been aiming for, and the annoyance gave me a bit more strength, which was probably what he'd been trying to do. When we reached the door, I had a moment of blind panic where I thought I'd locked myself out, but then remembered that I'd stuffed a key in my pocket as I ran out. It was a bit of a struggle, keeping Dax upright while I fished out the key, but I didn't want to lean him against the wall. His clothes had soaked up the blood well enough that he hadn't left a trail down the hall, but the last thing either of us needed was a smear of blood right next to the door.

  Even without knowing the details, I knew someone would be looking for Dax soon. Either the cops...or someone much worse.

  Chapter Three

  Dax

  Gavin Manning had gotten tangled up in some shady shit a few years ago, and the man had more money than I could imagine, both of which meant that the building he lived in had great security. Without someone inside to provide access, there wasn't really a way for anyone to get inside. Sneaking into the parking garage hadn't been easy, but I knew that would be as far as I could get on my own.

  Even though I hated the idea of getting this innocent girl involved, the loft was the safest place I could think of. Booker already knew about Bryne, and if he'd been involved in Julius shooting me, that meant they might come after her anyway. I didn't have to worry too much about her while she was here, but I knew that if something happened to me before I could warn her, one of the guys – or Cleo for that matter – could grab Bryne on the way to rehearsal on Monday. She told me she planned on staying inside all weekend, but no way in hell would I risk it.

  Better if I took care of a few things at once. I wouldn't pass out in some alley and bleed to death, and I could warn her to stay inside. My life didn't mean that much to me in itself, but I knew I had to stay alive to protect the people I cared about.

  By the time we reached the loft, everything was going gray, and I barely had enough strength to put one foot in front of the other. Somehow, I managed to make it a few more yards and slump onto the toilet seat before I lost consciousness.

  I wasn't sure how long I was out, only that there was darkness, and then I felt something cold and wet on my face. Pain followed. Every inch of me hurt, but the water on my face helped.

  Then I heard a woman say my name and remembered why I had to wake up.

  Bryne.

  I had to keep her safe. I needed her to patch me up, give me some painkillers, then let me sleep a couple hours so I could think clearly. After that, I could make sure she and my mom weren't touched by the shit I'd gotten myself into.

  “Dax, please wake up. I don't know what to do.”

  It was the desperation and concern in her voice that gave me the strength to force my eyes open.

  Fuck, that stung.

  I'd forgotten about the cut on my forehead, and opening my eyes pulled at it. It didn't start bleeding again, so I guessed that was a good thing.

  “Dax?”

  “Hey.” I tried for a smile but was pretty sure that it came out as a grimace. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “Don't think I'm not pissed at you,” she said, eyes flashing. “But we're going to get you taken care of first...then I'm going to ream your ass.”

  I straightened as best I could, sucking in a breath as fire burned through my side. “Thought I was the one who was supposed to do the ass reaming eventually?”

  The flush that stained her cheeks wasn't all anger, and a moment of warmth curled inside me, disappearing as I remembered the danger I'd put her in. I couldn't be thinking about sex with Bryne. Not when there were other things I needed to deal with first.

  “I wiped off some of the blood, but I wasn't sure what I should do next.” She glared down at me. “Somehow, I don't think my basic first aid classes at the Y covered this.”

  I looked around and remembered that I was in a bathroom. Not the one connected to Bryne's room, or the master bath, but a smaller one without a showe
r or bath. We should still have everything we needed in here.

  “Soap and water,” I said. “Antibacterial soap if you have it. The cut on my head needs to be washed out pretty good. There's gonna be plenty of dirt in it.”

  “Because you hit your face on a pile of dirt?” Her question was clipped as she started opening drawers and cabinets.

  “Pavement, actually.” The edges of my vision were starting to blur again, so I shifted, swallowing a groan as pain shot through my side. It made everything sharper, but, damn, it hurt.

  “Shouldn't I use peroxide or alcohol or something like that?”

  I started to shake my head, then thought better of it. “No, that can actually damage tissue.”

  Her eyebrows shot up before she could hide her surprise.

  “Not as dumb as you thought, huh?” I joked.

  Her expression changed into something I couldn't quite read. “I don't think you're dumb.” Her voice was soft. “But you sure do some pretty fucking stupid things.”

  I didn't respond to that. It was the truth. Instead, I stuck with telling her what she needed to do. “Cool water. Once it's clean, bandage and some antibiotic ointment if you have any.”

  She nodded but didn't say anything else until she was standing in front of me and starting to clean my forehead.

  “Why this one first? Your side's worse.”

  “It is,” I admitted. “But I wasn't sure how you'd handle blood. Figured we should test your doctoring skills on a simple cut first.”

  “And if you bleed to death in the meantime?”

  “It's not bleeding that bad.” I didn't add that I'd already lost enough blood to be light-headed. I didn't need her panicking. She might have been tough, but this was a whole other side of things.

  “This one's not as bad as I thought,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on what she was doing.

  “Head wounds tend to bleed a lot. Most of the time they look worse than they are.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “And what about wounds in the side?”