Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  Besides, it was easier to brood over this than my media mis-steps. Or the letter I’d had waiting for me this morning.

  Don’t say you weren’t warned, Cantrell. Now see how she suffers.

  After nearly two months without anything, why in the hell had it come now? Right before we left on her book tour? It was the fifth letter I’d received. She’d just received a fourth. It seemed to echo the sentiment in the one I’d gotten.

  You were warned, Ms. Prince. Sometimes the innocent must suffer the consequences of the guilty.

  Neither Ryan nor the cops’d had any more luck in tracking down the source. I suspected Ryan was now trying to talk them into getting the FBI involved.

  A headache pulsed at the base of my skull and I fought the urge to drag Carly out of the room and up to our bedroom. I’d moved in with her a few weeks back. I still worked my shifts, and nobody seemed to think anything of my relationship with Carly. Well, except Ridley.

  But Ridley was an asshole.

  Correction. Ridley was actually a lot worse than an asshole.

  After Carly publicly sent him away, he’d gotten a lot more subtle with his jabs, and he kept most of them to when the two of us weren’t likely to be overheard, but I knew he was getting into more and more trouble with Ryan and he was being sent out with Carly less and less. Cameo had mentioned a few days earlier that she’d overheard Ryan giving Ridley a warning. Ridley was down to his last chance and that’s all there was to it.

  I didn’t know what he’d done to piss Ryan off, but I found myself wishing he’d do it again. Preferably before we left at the end of the week so he didn’t go with us on tour. I knew that would complicate Ryan’s job a lot, but Ridley pissed me off that much.

  Having Ridley breathing his rage down my neck was only adding to how on edge I was lately. I could hold it together, and being with Carly made it easier in some ways, but in others, it made it harder. Knowing the letter-writer was still out there, knowing that, no matter what I did, I might not be able to protect the most important person in my life...It was a different kind of stress than I’d known before.

  Even Ace had said I’d been a bit on the scary side during training sessions.

  “I was wondering when you’d see that,” Carly said, interrupting my thoughts as she leaned over to study the Top Ten countdown on my screen. “We only made number seven.”

  “Why the hell are we on it at all?” Even as I said it, I wanted to punch myself in the head. Hard.

  Cameo narrowed her eyes at me as I floundered for a way to pull my foot out of my mouth. “Look...um...I just…” I shot Ryan a desperate look.

  “You’re on your own, kid,” he said, shaking his head.

  Carly ignored him. “What’s wrong with us?”

  “It’s not us that I can’t figure out.” I should have kept my damn mouth shut. Now I had to fix it. “It’s me. Why does anybody want me on a list?”

  “Oh, baby,” Carly said, her voice falling to a soft, husky croon.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ridley muttered.

  Cameo gave him a dirty look, and grabbed the remote, turning up the sound on the TV as Carly leaned in to kiss me.

  “You’re on all of my lists,” she said against my mouth. “The best kisser, the best boyfriend, the best...”

  “The best dumbass?” I suggested, trying to lighten the mood. I didn’t mind a little PDA, but sometimes when Carly kissed me, I had a tendency to forget things...like the fact that we had four other people in the room.

  She laughed.

  “...visitations for rock music icon Cindel will be limited to friends and family only...”

  Carly looked up and, immediately, I wrapped an arm around her.

  Ryan had told me last night that Carly was attending a funeral visitation tomorrow. Cindel – just the one name – had been an opening act for Carly’s dad back in the day, and the lady had been one of the few who’d continued to come around and visit Carly after her dad died. She’d probably been the closest thing to a real mom Carly had for a long time. They’d grown apart over the last couple years, but Cindel had been there for Carly when a lot of others hadn’t.

  As an image of the woman from her hey-day splashed across the screen, I pressed a kiss to Carly’s temple. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, her voice sad. “I just wish I’d known she was sick. We hadn’t talked in years, though. I guess there was no way I could have known, but I wish I would have kept in touch better.”

  She kissed my cheek and then pushed up, pacing the wide, open room. Stillness never sat well with Carly. Instead of following her, I stayed where I was.

  The TV continued to play on, the volume too loud, but when Cameo went to change it, Carly said, “Leave it. I need the distraction.”

  “...scandal involving drag racing down a suburban street in Anchorage, Alaska. Keown is on location in Anchorage while filming his upcoming action thriller. It is unknown if he’ll face charges.”

  Carly snorted. “He won’t face charges. Again. He’ll end up dead or killing somebody and then everybody will be oh, how did this happen?”

  The news continued to play, with Carly offering biting commentary from time to time. Dave suggested a BBQ joint for the stop in Memphis. As almost all of us were fairly fond of BBQ, that was a definite yes. Cameo was the only exception, being a vegetarian, and she shrugged.

  “As long as I can get a salad, I’ll tolerate you all imbibing dead pig.”

  “I’m eating cow,” I volunteered.

  “I might try chicken,” Carly offered.

  The discussion moved to Savannah and some sort of pirate house. Carly continued to pace, and I continued to watch her.

  “It looks like the Hershel family will be adding to their family again. This makes number five in just as many years. We have to wonder just how Amber will ever get back in shape to go back to the silver screen...”

  “Yeah, because that is of the utmost importance in life.” Carly stopped in front of the TV, her toes tapping out a beat on the thick carpet.

  The gossip gave way to local news and we waited for her to change the channel, but she just stood there, staring at nothing as one, then two stories went by.

  “In grimmer news, a young minister faces yet another tragedy.”

  I focused on Carly as the group deliberated on stopping at some kind of cemetery in Savannah. A cemetery? Not that I cared. Wherever I was, as long as she was there, would be fine.

  I glanced at the TV as a man’s image came across the screen. He was probably a few years older than me, and he had a tired, worn look to him. He looked like a man who’d seen some hard times, but still had a friendly sort of smile.

  “Pastor Eric Haskell of Monterey, California, lost his wife to breast cancer late last year and now his daughter is missing.”

  Ridley snorted. “Reap what you sow, Reverend.”

  “Hey, you prick–” I snapped.

  But even as I started to say more, the remote hit him square in the forehead.

  The TV abruptly went silent. I glanced at it and saw ‘mute’ in green print flare across the screen before I turned to look at Carly. She was rigid, her entire body shaking as she glared at Ridley.

  “What did you say?”

  He rubbed his head, astonishment written on his face. “What was that for?”

  She pointed a finger at him, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  There was an edge to her voice that I didn’t like. Slowly, I rose. “Carly...”

  She ignored me, turning to look at the TV. The news was still rolling. It looked like the dad was giving an interview now.

  “Sound on,” Carly said.

  Nothing happened. The system was set up to respond to voice as well as the remote, but she’d probably accidentally turned that off when she’d smacked Ridley’s hard skull with the remote.

  Cameo scooped up the remote and held it towards Carly. “Here.”

  Carly’s hands were shaking. I saw the tremo
r as she grabbed the remote. “Ridley,” she said. Her voice was calmer now. Barely. “I’m asking again, what did you say?”

  Ridley opened his mouth, then closed it. The dick finally realized he’d done something wrong, but clearly didn’t know what. Shrugging, he said, “Look, everybody knows those preachers are always crooked–”

  “You think I care about a preacher?”

  Apparently, she was too frustrated to mess with the voice control, because she punched a button on the remote and we all watched as the screen rewound.

  “A kid,” she said, her voice flat as the newscast went in reverse. “This is about a kid who is missing.”

  Instinct had me moving closer. I slid my arm around her waist. “Carly.”

  I didn’t know if she even heard me. Her fingers slipped off the remote and a shudder ran through her.

  Carefully, I tugged it away from her and hit the button until the news began to play at regular speed.

  “Pause it, Bobby. Look at the damn screen and tell me what you see, Ridley,” Carly said, her voice odd. Tight.

  I looked up, stared at the image of the little girl. She had golden blonde hair. Big blue eyes. She looked like a little doll. A solemn-eyed little doll, and like her dad, she looked like a person who’d seen too much.

  “Nine year-old Haley was last seen yesterday morning, riding her bike...” the newscaster said.

  “She’s just a baby,” Cameo said softly.

  I glanced at Ridley, but he was looking outside.

  “Ridley. Carly wanted to know what you saw on the screen,” I said, my voice hard.

  “There were reports of a dark gray late model Dodge Caravan...”

  The voice droned on as Ridley swung his head around, his sullen glare bouncing off me before it landed on the TV. It skipped away, and then returned.

  “If anybody has information that can lead to location of nine-year-old Haley Haskell, please notify the Monterey Police Department or call...”

  Carly jerked away from me and started to walk.

  Ridley took a step as if to go after her.

  Hell no.

  I put myself in front of him, and this time, when he rammed into me, I rammed him back.

  With my fist.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I’m not apologizing.”

  Dave just lifted his eyebrow.

  He’d gotten a promotion a few days after Jake’s fall. He’d been part-time for a while after his daughter had been born, but now he worked a full week. He didn’t live on the estate or work nights, but he’d been the obvious choice for the promotion. The team had teased him about it, called him Ryan, Jr. Which, I guessed, was fitting, since he’d taken Ryan’s former position. Ryan had taken over Jake’s. Not that anybody called Ryan Jake, Jr.

  There would never be another Jake.

  Ryan had kept his old office though, so I was in Jake’s former office, cooling off, or so I was told.

  I was here because Ridley was in Ryan’s office.

  “Is Ridley cooling off too?” I asked mockingly as I studied my knuckles.

  “No.” Dave stretched out his long legs, his hands flat on his belly. “I believe the house staff is assisting–”

  He stopped talking and straightened up, one finger to his right ear. He had his earpiece in. Ryan and Dave wore them almost all the time. The rest of us typically only wore them when we were on the clock, but Ryan was always on the clock and Dave took a radio with him when he went home at night. Me...well, the crew had asked that I always take my earpiece out as soon as I was done.

  I forgot one time during a make-out session...

  Dave flicked a look at me and stood up, turning his back.

  That had my gut drawing tight. Dave clearly didn’t want me to see his face.

  “You’re certain?”

  As their discussion continued, Dave’s side in mostly murmurs and single word replies or terse questions, my unease grew.

  When his phone started to blare a minute later, I grabbed it. He tried to beat me to it, but I was faster. Before he could try to wrestle the phone away, I backed up and answered it.

  “Yeah?”

  “Ah...is this Mr. Bobby?” It was Laureen, the petite, middle-aged woman who ran Carly’s house with an iron fist.

  “Yeah. What’s up, Laureen?”

  “There are police on the phone. They need to speak with you–”

  The door crashed open, drowning out the rest of her words.

  Ryan came striding in and he shoved me back, hard and fast, catching me off-guard. In my momentary surprise, he managed to get the phone from me.

  “Hi, Laureen, it’s Ryan.” He paused a moment to take a step back as I glared at him. “Yes, yes...I know. Tell the investigating officer he’s on his way. They...I know. He’ll be there within a few hours.”

  The first thought I had was that this was just great timing. My PO wanted a surprise visit, right after I finished pounding Ridley’s face through the other side of his skull, or at least, given it my best shot. Then Ryan’s words clicked. Investigating officer?

  Shit.

  “If cops want to talk to me, I have to go in,” I said slowly, straightening away from the desk.

  “You will.” Ryan crossed his arms over his chest.

  That was when I realized he didn’t look quite as GQ as normal. His suit was wrinkled, his hair was messed up and...damn.

  “Man, you got blood on your shirt.”

  It was Ridley’s, I assumed. He hadn’t gotten in a single shot at me.

  “Not enough,” Ryan said, giving me a sharp smile. “Go get packed.”

  “I want to know what’s going on,” I said.

  He sighed. “Look, you will. We’re taking the plane, and I’ll explain on the way. We have to move, though. It’s important, okay?” He moved in and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Bobby, please. Trust me.”

  There were only a few people, less than five in my whole life, who deserved to make that request, but Ryan was one of them.

  “You better make that explanation fast,” I advised.

  * * *

  I didn’t see Carly, not while I was hurriedly throwing jeans, sweaters, and a leather jacket into my duffel bag. I’d have to call her, because I had a feeling she wasn’t coming with me. If she were, she’d have been up here packing too.

  I met Ryan at the front door. “Who’s staying with her?”

  “Dave’s keeping watch.”

  We were out the door in the next few minutes and, far sooner than I liked, we were in the air, Carly’s small private jet speeding through the air, powering us north.

  There were plenty of things I didn’t like, a few things I hated. And even fewer that I was outright afraid of.

  Flying was one of them, especially when it was in something that looked like an oversized child’s toy. Usually, I had Carly to help me through it. Holding my hand, whispering things in my ear to keep me distracted.

  I really didn’t want Ryan to do any of that, so I suffered through it.

  Finally, I managed to convince myself we weren’t going to plunge down to the earth in a fiery burning ball and I unclamped my hands from the armrests. I opened one eye. Then the other.

  Ryan was watching me.

  “Less than fifteen minutes that time. You’re getting better.”

  Hoarsely, I said, “Suck my dick.”

  He didn’t smile. Instead, he reached into the seat next to him and picked up the folder there. He placed it in my lap.

  “You wanted an explanation. Read it.”

  * * *

  I managed to hold it in until we landed and disembarked, but the second my feet were on solid ground, I stumbled a few feet away and went to my knees. There, I puked up everything I’d eaten that day. And then it felt like I puked up everything I’d eaten in the last six months.

  “How?” I asked finally. I spit once, then twice.

  “I don’t know if there’s a simple answer to that,” Ryan said.

  A bott
le of water appeared in front of me. My stomach heaved at the sight of it, but the taste in my mouth was threatening to send me into revolt again, so I took a chance. Slowly, I pushed back onto my heels and accepted the bottle. I rinsed out my mouth, and then spat out the water.

  I hated flying, but I hated throwing up more. I could count the number of times I’d done it on one hand, and two of those had been when I’d had the stomach flu.

  “They’re certain it’s him?” I asked.

  “The guy who wrote the letters?” Ryan clarified and then nodded without even waiting for me to answer. “Pretty certain. There was a letter left at the house. They were keeping it quiet, but they ran it through the databases. The match came in pretty fast. We...” He hesitated.

  I asked the next question I needed an answer to. “How do they know she’s mine?”

  “We’d already done the legwork on that one.”

  We? I looked at the file he was holding now. The file that held a picture of nine year-old Haley Haskell.

  My daughter.

  She hadn’t been born when I’d gone to jail almost ten years ago. Her birthday was in a couple months.

  “Who is we?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.

  “Carly asked me to do it,” he said after a moment.

  I turned away, staring out across the airport. It was small and private, but we weren’t alone. The crew was bustling around, but giving us an illusion of privacy. That wouldn’t last much longer. Already, off in the distance, I could see a couple of cars winding their way toward us. Unmarked cop cars. They practically gave off their own scent.

  “If you were able to find her–”

  “It wasn’t easy.” Ryan cut in.

  I turned to look at him. He was watching the two cars drawing closer and closer to us. “It was a closed proceeding, as you know. It took greasing some palms and digging to get her name.”

  “Why’d you do it?” I demanded, advancing on him. I grabbed him by the front of his shirt as a thought hit me. “Did Ridley know? Was Ridley involved in this?”

  “Easy, Bobby,” Ryan said. He caught my wrists and squeezed. “Calm down. I did it because Carly needed to know.”

  “Why!?”

  “Because she loves you.” His voice was quiet. “She needed to know your daughter was safe.”