Found (Bad Boys with Billions Book 2)

by Laura Marie Altom

  Did Liam suspect anything yet?

  “How are you?” my mother asked once she’d finished fussing with the tea. “I mean, how are you really? And where have you been to get so tan?”

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” I didn’t believe it myself. Our time in the Seychelles felt like a beautiful, impossible dream.

  Mom sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.” She sipped her tea. “You did it all the time at the clinic—accused Daddy and me of horrible things . . .” Her gaze drifted off with her words, and she dried the corners of her shining eyes with the white paper napkin she’d just unrolled.

  “That’s because you did do very bad things.” I squared my shoulders, determined to say my piece before leaving. We might never be as close as we once were, but at the very least, she needed to know I was sane. “When I needed you most, you left me in that awful place.” The psychiatric wing I was stored in after the rape and mutilation and losing my baby had been nothing like the posh clinic. It had been cold and sterile and filled with inhuman moans and screams and dark, penetrating stares from people who’d lost their way. “I was so scared, and you just left me. You believed Blaine over me, but he lied. He’s a monster. From the first day of our honeymoon, he was never the same as when we were dating. He had me under his spell, too, but then he broke it. He was so controlling—always telling me what to do. What to wear. Who to see and where to go. I was living a nightmare, yet every time I tried talking to you about it, you brushed me off, told me I must be imagining things—that Blaine would never hurt me.”

  “Ella . . .” Mom meticulously folded and refolded her napkin. “Please, stop. You’re making me uncomfortable. Blaine’s a wonderful man. He bought your father and me a Cadillac for our anniversary.”

  “Yes, he did,” my father echoed. “It has all the bells and whistles, too.”

  Lips pressed tight to keep from making a scene, I asked, “How much longer till Blaine gets here? Dad, I imagine it took you so long to park the car because you were on the phone with him?”

  He reddened. “It shouldn’t be but a few more minutes. He was already on the highway. He’s excited to see you—has real high hopes for your future.”

  Right.

  And so we sat, carefully avoiding making eye contact.

  The waiter brought Cheddar Bay Biscuits. Dad downed three in rapid-fire.

  I don’t even remember having ordered.

  “You look thin,” Mom noted. “Eat. Now that you’re back, we need to work on getting meat on your bones.”

  “I’m not back.”

  “If you’re not ready to stay home, then where are you going?” Her voice hit a shrill note. “You can’t run away again. My heart can’t take it. You’re clearly unwell, and—”

  “Oh my God, would you stop!” It might have been childish, but I pressed my hands over my ears, refusing to ingest any more of her crazy. “There’s nothing wrong with me except that my parents are delusional. I’d hoped this meeting could be different, better, but . . .” I flopped my hands atop the table. Why bother explaining? No matter what I said, she wasn’t listening. Blaine bought her a Caddie. What had I ever given aside from unconditional love?

  There was so much I’d wanted to share with both of them. If our relationship had been back to normal, I might have gushed about my amazing new life with Liam, and how as soon as I got my divorce, we would be married. Liam needed a mom, and had mine regained her sanity, she might have filled that role. He needed a father, too. But apparently, all my dad was good for was wolfing down biscuits.

  “Here he is!” Mom pointed as Blaine strode through the door.

  His barrel chest struck me as broader, his ever-ready smile faker.

  Bile rose in my throat and terror turned my tongue to sand. How had I ever thought myself brave enough to face him head-on? My mind’s eye envisioned Liam, reminding me that he was the reason I now sat in this booth. I had to stay strong and focus on the only thing that mattered—obtaining my freedom.

  Blaine had nearly made it to our table when two men dressed in suits and dark aviator glasses approached him. They exchanged brief words, then Blaine smiled and waved in our direction before striding toward the foyer.

  “Wonder what that was about?” Dad asked.

  I wished I knew.

  Liam

  Judging by the last ten minutes’ radio chatter, I was late to the party.

  Didn’t matter.

  My guys were on it. Blaine had been unprepared for my Alpha team having been inside. Poor S.O.B. When I entered Red Lobster’s john, he didn’t look happy to see me. All of his men had been outside, on their phones texting their girlfriends or playing Candy Crush. Which was why the bastard was now exactly where I wanted him.

  Emboldened by the fact that I had three hulks on my team who all sported automatic weapons with silencers, and if those failed, could probably kill him with some bare-handed special-ops shit, I didn’t hesitate to shove him hard into the nearest wall. “If you fucking so much as breathe Ella’s name again, I’ll kill you.”

  “Such brave talk. What happens when you’re not surrounded by hired thugs?”

  I punched him so hard my guy Bryce had to get him a paper towel to wipe up his probably broken nose.

  “You’re deranged,” Blaine boasted. “When I finish with you, you won’t see sunlight without bars for fifty years.”

  “Interesting you should bring that up,” I said. “Since we were first acquainted at my beach house, I’ve had the opportunity to look into your holdings. Wonder if the IRS has ever stopped to compare your lifestyle to what’s on paper? Take, for instance, the hundred-and-twenty large you blew excavating the lower floor of your house. What do you have down there, Blaine? Just a washer and dryer? Workout equipment? The guy I sent in the other night— remember? When you were officiating that swanky country club wedding? Well, he said that after he worked his way through your impressive lock collection, he discovered that lo and behold, you have cameras down there. Lots.” I opened my phone, flipping through shot after shot of what looked like a goddamned film studio warehouse.

  He paled.

  “Gotta say, everyone I’ve talked to has been impressed with what you’ve managed to accomplish on your state salary. You are a real master with finances. It pains me to admit it, but your creativity puts me to shame.” I punched him again. “That was for Ella. Did you film her the night you showed off your knife skills? Did you know she remembers that you did? Even better, I’ve got a whole floor of worker bees back in Palo Alto who are dedicated to connecting dots. How much did you make off of her pain, you sick bastard? How can you live with yourself, knowing you fucking filmed a man raping your wife? How many other mutilated women would I be able to find through connecting even more dots?”

  “You’re bluffing. Every word’s pure conjecture. There’s no crime in enjoying a photography hobby.”

  I punched him again and again until Blaine sunk to his knees and my guys were pulling me back.

  The bastard pissed himself and only had one eye open.

  I courteously knelt, so that even with only one good eye, he was sure to get my message. “If you don’t have those fucking divorce papers signed, sealed and delivered to my office first thing in the morning, those dots I connect are gonna lead straight to you, my friend. If there’s one thing constituents love, it’s dirty laundry. Can you imagine the scandal if Foley’s favorite judge turns out to be a world-renowned producer of seriously twisted—maybe even snuff— porn?”

  “Fuck you!” He spat blood. “You’re gonna pay for what you’ve done. My deputies will arrest you the second you step outside this building, and then I’ll still get Ella.”

  Since my fists apparently hadn’t talked enough, I kicked him, too. “Even you wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull a stunt like that. If you try the slightest repercussion against me or one of my men, I’m gonna work double time to take you down. As satisfying as it would be to kill your sorry ass, it’
d be a whole lot sweeter to see that sterling reputation you’re so proud of dragged through the fucking mud.”

  I kicked him once more for good measure.

  Washed my hands, dried them, then straightened my tie.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” I said to my team. “Excellent work. Get that piece of shit cleaned up and out of here. Let’s be ready to roll in five.”

  I exited the restroom to encounter a line of men waiting to get in.

  The hostess, who’d been richly rewarded to place a Cleaning-in-Progress placard in front of the door, stepped forward. “Excuse me, but are you Liam Stone?”

  “I wish.” I shook my head, then applied my thickest backwoods accent. “I’ve heard he’s one rich sumbitch.”

  Having spotted Ella sitting in a booth with the man and woman I assumed to be her parents, I strode in that direction. I experienced a flash of regret for the way our initial meeting might have been under different—better—circumstances. Given my current dour frame of mind concerning them and their daughter, the best I could summon by way of social niceties was to hold out my hand to their wide-eyed daughter. “Ella, let’s go.”

  Ella

  Liam helped me slide out of the booth, but the moment I tried standing, my knees buckled.

  Of course, he caught me. But then I refused to let go.

  “I’m s-so sorry,” I said on a sob. “I was so stupid.”

  “Not gonna argue that,” he said into my ear, before pushing me a socially acceptable distance from him. “But keep it together. Don’t cause a scene.”

  “Are you Liam?” my mother asked.

  “Never heard of him.” Before she processed his comment, he led me out of the dim restaurant and into the light.

  Our rental had been parked beneath the restaurant’s portico with the engine running. A hulk of a man stood watch, as if daring anyone to so much as glance in our direction.

  Because Liam had told me to, I kept my cool until he helped me into the vehicle’s passenger side, then leaned in deep to fasten my seat belt. My body’s reaction to his achingly familiar citrus-and-leather scent was primal. I wanted him inside me for the sole purpose of proving we were both still alive.

  He climbed in, shut the door, then gunned the vehicle from the lot.

  He remained silent through two stoplights, a lane change and the left turn needed to merge onto the I-40 entrance ramp. The longer the quiet grew like a brick wall between us, the more my stomach churned.

  Finally, after zigzagging past two semis and an RV, he punched the accelerator past ninety, then smacked the heel of his hand against the wheel. “What the hell?” he thundered. “This morning, I begged you to stay. What would have happened if I hadn’t hired people to watch over you?”

  I could be dead.

  “I love you, Ell. Do you have any idea how fucking crazy you made me when I heard you were gone? Even worse—my visit with Blaine had been planned down to the last detail. When I learned that not only was he not coming, but he was meeting you instead? I fucking lost it. Just like that”—he snapped his fingers in my face—“he could have had you all over again. Thank God I’m a believer in redundancies or we could have both been toast.” He rubbed his forehead, pushing the car’s speed ever higher. “All of this—the guards, the constant running. It’s for you, Ell. The only thing I asked of you was simple—stay. Why didn’t you trust me to handle Blaine on my own?”

  There was nothing I could say beyond that I was sorry, so I just hung my head and took his scolding. I had it coming. I was ashamed. And so very, very grateful that we were both okay.

  Once again, he slammed his palm’s heel hard enough against the wheel that I jumped. “I was so fucking afraid I’d lost you.”

  “I felt the same about you this morning!” I didn’t mean to shout, but he had to know I’d been hurting, too. “I know this doesn’t excuse my actions, but this was my mess and I wanted to clean it up. I couldn’t stomach the thought of you meeting Blaine on your own and running the risk of getting hurt. I thought that if I could get my parents to see reason, they might help me deal with Blaine, and then we could all be a family—like what Natalie and Owen have. Only, even better, you know? I wanted to erase my past and make everything nice. But instead, I only made it worse. I’m sorry.”

  “What’s the story with Blaine’s parents? Do they buy into his bullshit, too?”

  “He grew up in foster care—never even knew his parents. Can you believe he’s a Boy

  Scout leader?”

  “Christ . . .”

  “I really am sorry.”

  He stared into my eyes forever, then took his foot off the gas, kissing me so hard my tears flowed into my mouth and I wouldn’t have been surprised if when I next looked in the mirror, my lips had claiming bruises.

  “It’s over,” he finally said.

  “No. Not until Blaine grants me a divorce.”

  “He will.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I just am.”

  His answer wasn’t anywhere near good enough, but it was all I had. “I saw Blaine enter the restaurant. Two suits approached him and said something, and then he moved out of my view. Did you have anything to do with that?”

  “No. I’m back in California being a good boy, remember?” The set of his jaw emanated danger. Of course, he was lying. But why?

  “Why are you acting like this?”

  Instead of opening up so we could have the heart-to-heart we needed, he only hardened his expression while he focused on driving.

  “I said I was sorry. Are you going to stay mad at me forever?”

  He laughed. “I wish what I felt was as simple as being mad. If I hadn’t hired my own army, do you know how differently this might have turned out? I could be in jail. You could be back at the clinic, Blaine’s home or worse.”

  “I get all of that, but what do you want me to do? What don’t you understand about the fact that I was genuinely scared for you? I did what I did because the thought of you getting hurt for me was unacceptable. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I can’t imagine what you said to Blaine that made him back down, but if that’s the case—thank you.”

  He pulled into the lot of the private airport we’d flown into.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Home.”

  Just like that? We’d come to Tennessee with a specific goal, but it hadn’t been achieved—at least as far as I knew. Liam parked and turned off the engine. Black SUVs pulled in next to us on both sides. I put my hand on his forearm. “Please, Liam. Tell me everything you and Blaine talked about. For my own peace of mind, I need to know why you now feel this crisis is over.”

  After placing the heels of his hands over his eyes, he groaned. “Why can’t you trust me? Why can’t you take a deep breath and surrender, knowing I one hundred percent will always have your back?” Eyes open, his emerald gaze locked with mine, changing me in a heartbeat on a fundamental level. After leaving Blaine, I’d vowed to myself to never again depend on another man. But Liam wasn’t just another man. I wanted to blindly trust, but I also needed him not to feel it was okay to keep secrets.

  “This isn’t about me not trusting you,” I said, “but me needing to understand the reason why I should now all of a sudden feel okay.”

  “Christ . . . I don’t want to tell you. I want to protect you . . .”

  “But?”

  He unbuckled his seat belt and angled on the seat to face me and take my hands. “While you were in the clinic, Garrett and I pored over all things Blaine. His finances, his daily habits, the floor plan of his house. We found discrepancies. More cash than he should have on his judge’s salary. I had surveillance on him, and he’d vanish for hours without leaving his home. I got a guy inside and found a relatively new basement filled with high-dollar movie-making equipment. There were cameras and—”

  “He filmed me . . .” I held my trembling hands over my mouth. Everything was suddenly so clear. Just like I’d wanted to protect Liam this mo
rning, he’d wanted to protect me then and now. If I’d trusted—believed—him, I wouldn’t now be wondering if in some far-off, seedy corner of the world, some sick pervert was getting his rocks off on my pain. “For profit.”

  “We think. I mean, honestly? It makes sense. When I broached the topic with Blaine, the wind gushed from his sails. He doesn’t know what we have—hell, we don’t yet know exactly what we have, but we will. He can’t hide behind his dummy IP addresses forever.”

  “The rape . . . He could have actually arranged it. Got off on it. He’s sicker than I ever could have imagined.”

  “See why I wanted to keep this from you?”

  I nodded, then crushed him in a hug. “Thank you. You’re right—this was hard to hear and is going to take a while to fully digest, but it gave me a huge piece to my puzzle.” I’d needed that—to stand a chance at healing. But would it be enough?

  Liam

  The next morning, being back in my office felt surreal.

  Our flight home had been uneventful. Ella and I slept in the aft compartment while the security team camped in the main cabin.

  Now, aside from the fact that my right knuckles hurt like hell from punching Blaine’s ugly-ass face, the whole ordeal might never have happened. Only it had. And it played in my mind on a constant loop.

  When I’d gotten the news that Ella had gone rogue, it devastated me. The fact that it was pushing ten a.m. and there was still no sign of Blaine’s share of the divorce papers had me reaching for my TUMS.

  To a certain extent, I had been bluffing. Right now, I had nothing to pin on him that wasn’t circumstantial. But given enough manpower and the amount of funding I was willing to blow on the project, it was only a matter of time before he was done. He knew it and I knew it, which was why he’d peed himself and I was able to put down my antacids.

  I didn’t need them.

  I might not know how or when, but Blaine would eventually end up hanging from his own rope.

  I’d given Ella an office down the hall from mine, where she planned to work on her college degree. Until she officially enrolled, I had her running final-round consumer testing on apps close to hitting the market. We’d mutually decided that for the time being, at least until after the divorce, it would be best if she left her job in Yvonne’s shop.