Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  Dropping into a chair, he muttered, “Damn it.”

  He started to stand up. His arms itched to wrap around her, hold her. That scared look was one he’d promised he’d never see in her eyes again.

  Let her have some time.

  Narrowing his eyes, he said flatly, “Isn’t that some strange advice coming from you, Sis?”

  Carly laughed. Maybe. She’s not going to do what you want.

  Pulling the cell phone from his pocket, he tapped it idly on his leg, glancing around the room. He couldn’t see Carly anywhere so he resigned himself to talking to thin air for the hundredth time. “She will. I’m not giving her a choice.”

  She’s not as weak-willed as she used to be. She’ll fight you. And you shouldn’t try to make her, sweetie. She’s got a right to stand and fight on her own terms.

  “She’s got a right to live without being afraid of him,” Joel growled.

  Then don’t bully her—let her stand on her own two feet. If she chooses to leave, so be it. But let her choose.

  He shook his head. “She stays safe. And safe is away from him.”

  With that, he lifted the phone and started to punch in numbers. They were running out of time anyway.

  Ten minutes later, he verified that Grainger was still allegedly catatonic.

  It didn’t appear to be a line the feds were buying. Joel hadn’t spent the past twenty years just burying landmines under Grainger’s feet. He’d also been building a network of information and informants, all of them people who had hated Grainger as much as Joel did.

  Once he’d made sure that Grainger was still in Maine, he headed outside.

  Emory was out there, sitting in a swing, staring up at the sky. “I told you I wanted to be alone,” she said in a level tone.

  Joel arched a brow. Damn. She’d gone and grown some teeth. “I know,” he replied neutrally. “I wanted to let you know I have to make some calls. Do some stuff. I’ll be back tonight.”

  “No.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Excuse me?”

  She turned her head and met his gaze. “No,” she repeated coolly. “I need some time to think.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  She snorted. “My ass. I know you. If it wasn’t safe, you wouldn’t be leaving. You apparently know everything that’s going on with him, so I assume he’s still in the hospital…or someplace where’s he’s being watched. Although I’m kind of curious as to why they haven’t locked his ass up. But that’s not the point. I need some time to think, Joel. Come back in the morning.”

  “Are you going to be here?” he asked, his voice low and gritty. He had this gut-deep fear that she’d panic and take off.

  A smile curled her lips upward. “This is my home, Joel. It’s the first thing that’s been mine in forever. I’m not leaving.”

  Closing the distance between them, he lowered his head to hers and covered her mouth with his. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Turning away, he said silently, You will have to leave for a while, baby. But you’ll come back, I promise.

  * * *

  Vincent stared at the man in front of him with narrowed eyes, watching as he closed the door gently behind him.

  “Hey, boss,” Carter said, a smug little smile on his face.

  Vincent just stared slackly at him.

  Carter smiled. “It’s okay. You can talk to me. Your babysitters are taking a nap. Permanently.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Vincent straightened up just a little in the hospital bed.

  With a grin, Carter moved closer. “That’s more like it. Don’t worry. I’ve got a cousin working the desk here. And I know the feds aren’t due in for a while yet, but we got to get you out of here.”

  Finally, Vincent asked in a soft voice, “We?”

  Carter beamed at Vincent, “Yeah, we. I knew you weren’t in no vegetative state. Smart move, though. Real smart. Come on, we don’t have much time. How much can you move?”

  Suspicious, Vincent stared at Carter. “What are you doing here?”

  Carter grinned. “Been waiting for you. I told you…my cousin Rachel.”

  Vincent was too fucking tired to argue, or debate, or worry about the good fortune that had landed one of his men right where he needed him. Normally, he would have been a little more suspicious, but right now…right now, he needed to get out of there.

  As Carter came around, he said, “How many people are available? I need to find an old friend.”

  Carter paused, smiling. He lifted a yellow legal-sized envelope. “If it’s Lockhart, that’s already done.”

  Chapter Eight

  Kneeling in the dirt, she felt the summer sun shining warm on her face, and smiled as she ran her hands over the blooming bushes of flowers, stripping away some of the branches.

  A shadow fell across her hands and a rose appeared in her line of vision.

  Instinctively, she breathed in the sweet scent and then she lifted her head, squinting up at Joel. He squatted down in front of her, twirling the rose between his fingers. “You grow nice flowers.”

  Emory tried to force herself to scowl, even though all she wanted to do was throw herself at him.

  She’d dreamed of him last night. Ached for him until she finally fell asleep, hours past midnight. Then the dreams had come, black, ugly ones, full of pain and torment. They’d had her struggling, shivering and shaking, tossing in her sheets, until they finally woke her, screaming.

  Joel could have kept those ugly dreams away. Just one touch of his hand made her feel cleaner, stronger.

  But right now, she wanted to lash out at him. There was a fury in her gut and it was centered on him.

  Damn it, why in the hell was she so mad at him?

  Slowly, she reached out, closing her fingers around the fragile stem, twirling it as she slid him a look from under her lashes. “Gee, thanks. I couldn’t have grown a prettier one myself.”

  He just shrugged. His eyes ran over the backyard and she had the oddest feeling that he was aware of every little thing around them, from the way the breeze drifted across, to the new bushes she had planted. There was an odd, tense set to his shoulders, and his mouth was rather grim.

  “You look pretty serious for a man stealing flowers,” she mused.

  A slow smile creased his face. “Sorry.” His lids drooped, and he suddenly looked sleepy. Sleepy and hungry. “I missed you last night.”

  Emory licked her lips, sniffing the rose before glancing up at him. “I missed you, too.” Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, she murmured, “I didn’t sleep well…bad dreams, half the night. The other half of the night, I couldn’t sleep for wanting you too much.”

  Joel groaned. Then his hands were on her and Emory gasped, then started to giggle as her dirty hands left damp stains on the white button-down shirt he wore. “I’m getting you dirty,” she whispered.

  His arms closed around her, snuggling her against him. “Don’t care. Damn it, I don’t feel complete without you against me.”

  His gruff voice sent a shiver down her spine. One hand slid up to cup her nape, his mouth brushing against her earlobe.

  He sighed, and his body seemed to shudder with it, then he pulled back. Narrowing her eyes, she demanded, “Now what?”

  His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing over the curve of her lower lip. “I need to talk to you…”

  Her brows lowered over her eyes and she poked out her lip. “Damn it, don’t you think we had enough serious talks yesterday?”

  Joel sighed softly, dropping his forehead until it pressed against hers. “No, sweetie. There’s not as much time as I thought.”

  That sent a frisson a fear racing through her. Slipping away from him, she wrapped her arms around herself, staring out at the lush green lawn, the bright bursts of flowers planted here and there. “What is it, Joel?”

  “Grainger’s missing.”

  Her hands fell limply to her lap and all the strength left her body. Her breath escaped her in a rush and she
tried to breathe around the knot that had suddenly formed in her chest. “Missing?”

  His eyes went flat and grim. “Since early this morning. Last seen about six hours ago. The two guards stationed outside his room are dead, shot in the head. He had outside help. I’m taking you away—”

  “Like hell.”

  Terror swarmed up, threatening to close her throat, but damn it, that bastard wasn’t doing this to her again.

  He’d already ruined her life once.

  Joel caught her face in his hand, lifting her chin and leaning down until the tip of his nose touched hers. “I am taking you away. I’ve got safe places all over this damn country and I’ll put you in one of them—hell, I’ll hand you over to the feds if I have to. You’ll keep that fine ass of yours safe.”

  She swallowed and it was close to painful. Blood rushed in her ears as she jerked away.

  “I am not leaving my home! How in the hell can he find me, anyway?”

  “I did, smartass. Why couldn’t he?” Joel demanded.

  Hands clenched into fists at her sides, she glared at him. Fury and fear danced an ugly tango inside her, turning her insides into a mess. Lowering her voice, she repeated harshly, “I am not leaving.”

  His hand closed around her arm and she turned around swinging. Her hand just barely clipped him on the chin. He caught that hand—but she swung at him again with the other.

  Joel caught it, too, and before she realized it, he had swung her around, and braced her back against an oak. Sunlight fell across his face in dappled slices, highlighting his eyes, the curve of his mouth, the line of his jaw. Struggling against him, she demanded, “Let me go! Don’t you understand? He’s already controlled too much of my life. I won’t let him do it again!”

  “I won’t risk you, Tracy. Damn it, I have to keep you safe.”

  “Emory!” she screamed at him, struggling against his hold. “It’s Emory!”

  He dropped her hands, but before she could go back to shoving at him, he jerked her against him, his hands closing around her upper arms. “Stop. Emory, listen to me. Damn it, I can’t stand the thought of you being near him.”

  “Do you think I want to?” Unaware of the tears that filled her eyes, she shoved against him but he wouldn’t let her go. “The thought makes me sick. But I promised myself I’d never let anybody make me that afraid again. And I won’t. Damn it, I won’t. You can’t make me.”

  “Tra…” his voice trailed off as he stared down at her. Closing his eyes, he said, “You don’t understand what you’re asking.

  Her hair fell over her shoulder as she stared up at him. Slowly, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “Maybe you don’t either. I found something, Joel. Something I didn’t have before. Self-respect. And if you try to make me leave, I lose that.”

  “He’s lost most of his power base—they are in jail, some of them are dead. And a lot of the money is frozen by the government. Aleisha did tell me some of that. He’s lost a lot of his power—including the power he held over me. I won’t let him take that back just because he used to terrorize me. I can’t.”

  Joel stared down at her, his face as hard as stone. “What kind of man would it make me, letting you so close to the bastard who beat and raped you?”

  She smiled then. “You act like I don’t have a clue what you’re planning.”

  He arched a brow.

  “You want him here. If he doesn’t know where I am…or where you are…you’re going to let him know. You want him here—because you want him dead. You plan on killing him.”

  Leaning forward, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. “I know you, Joel. Better than you think. Now tell me…am I wrong?”

  Chapter Nine

  Stupid…

  Joel told himself that for the hundredth time as he watched Tracy settle down at her computer.

  Then he told himself, Emory. Hell, even after he had loaded that son of a bitch full of lead, she wouldn’t go back to Tracy.

  Tracy was dead. She wanted Tracy dead.

  Maybe it was easier for her. Made it easier to handle what had happened to her.

  “You writing?” he asked neutrally.

  She cast him a look over her shoulder. “Is there anything you don’t know about my life?” she asked, her tone amused.

  Damn it, why didn’t she look more worried. Joel was terrified. He’d called two people. He didn’t trust anybody, but there were two guys who had reason to hate Vincent and he wanted more eyes on this house.

  But it would take them a few hours to get here.

  And she was sitting there, working, as though there was nothing wrong.

  “Carter Manning is missing.”

  He watched her spine stiffen. Manning was one of Grainger’s favorite bastards—Joel had no doubt that Manning had witnessed some of the humiliations Grainger had dealt his wife.

  As Emory slowly spun in her chair to face him, he saw nothing but blankness in her eyes. “Is that supposed to make me want to run away screaming in terror?”

  Guilt riddled him but he shoved it down. Harshly, he snapped, “If you’re smart, it would.”

  “Carter is a puppet, Joel. Nothing more. Cut his strings and he’s useless.”

  “His puppet master has been lying comatose the past three years.”

  An amused smile curved her lips. With a shrug, she just said, “Somebody was filling Vincent’s shoes. Not of all his companies collapsed. I’ve kept an eye on the business world. Somebody who knows those businesses has been running them. That’s who has been pulling Carter’s strings.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Joel said, “You always let on like you didn’t know a damned thing about his business life.”

  She shrugged. “His business life—I didn’t. Him, I knew plenty. I know the companies he owned. I don’t know what kind of laws he broke, although I can probably imagine.” With a smirk, she added, “Every one imaginable.”

  “And then some.” Joel rubbed a hand over his eyes. “You aren’t going to leave, are you?”

  “Nope.” With that, she spun around and faced her keyboard.

  Staring at the long, mink brown hair cascading down her back, he blew out a tired breath.

  They were coming here. Joel knew that as well as he knew his own reflection. They were coming here, coming after Tracy—but the plan had been for her to leave.

  And now because he hadn’t planned on this streak of courageousness, she was going to be here.

  I’ll keep her safe, he promised himself, unconsciously echoing his promise to Carly. Closing his eyes, he muttered, “It will be over soon. No matter what.”

  It didn’t matter what it took. His life, his death. His everything, so long as Grainger died, and Emory was safe.

  That sounds so final…

  Jerking his head up, he saw the faint white outline of his sister’s form, hovering in the air near Emory. Clenching his jaw, he stalked out of the room, onto the porch where he braced his hands on the railing. “Damn it, don’t do that.”

  Carly laughed. What…don’t talk to you when your girlfriend is around?

  He glared at her, glanced through the window to see Emory’s head lowered over a book. Jerking his head back to Carly, he just stood there with a brow lifted, waiting to hear what she had to say.

  My…you usually aren’t so patient, baby brother.

  Joel sneered automatically. Damn it, he’d been after a killer for more than twenty years, if that wasn’t patience, what was?

  There was a soft sighing sound, one that drifted through the air and seemed to chill everything around them. Joel felt the goose bumps break out over his skin, and when he breathed out, his breath formed a foggy little cloud. You aren’t going to die, Joel.

  Joel shrugged. The thought had occurred to him, more than once, that one day, Vincent Grainger would kill him. He’d never really cared before, so long as he took the bastard with him, but Tracy had changed things. Emory had changed them even more. It was as though there were t
wo women living inside that skin—soft, sweet Tracy who he had fought to protect, and Emory, the woman who’d been strong enough to run, strong enough to build a life of her own. He loved them both. And so long as his woman was fine, he could handle what came.

  Don’t think like that. You want a life with her…reach for it.

  Joel turned away, sighing. “She deserves better, Carly. Damn it, I’ve got almost as much blood on my hands as Grainger.”

  The air around him chilled even more and Joel winced as Carly’s angry voice seemed to cut right through him, like a frigid wind. Don’t! The blood of murderers. Damn you, your soul isn’t as stained as you think. I know how many lives you took. I’ve been with you since the beginning. You killed the ones who killed me. And you’ve killed bastards who put drugs in the hands of babies, men who rape children. The lives you’ve taken saved the lives of countless others. Stop blaming yourself for that. Let it go.

  Live for yourself. For once…you deserve to have something in life that you want…not just revenge.

  “Revenge is all I ever needed.”

  Until her…look at her, Marc…Joel, look at her and tell me that you don’t want to be with her as you both turn old and gray. That you don’t want to see her belly get big with a baby…that you don’t want to lie beside her every night for the next hundred years. Can you tell me that?

  Slowly, he turned and stared through the window at Emory, watching as she reached up and pressed a hand against her eyes, watching the way her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath. “A hundred years isn’t enough,” he said thickly, feeling the foreign sting of tears in his eyes.

  Then stop preparing yourself to die. You’ve been mentally doing just that for years… stop it. Prepare yourself to live…and you will.

  Turning away from the woman he loved, he stared out into the night.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  In a soft husky voice, Carly murmured, It is. Just reach for what you want…stop searching for what you’ve always searched for. Revenge isn’t the most important thing anymore. Taking care of her is. Isn’t now more important than the past?