Lost (Bad Boys with Billions Book 1)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “I-I’m already married!” She’d grown hysterical. “B-Blaine promised he’d kill me before he’d ever let me go.”

  Need more?! Keep reading for an excerpt of Found!

  Liam

  New Year’s Eve

  From our vantage high atop the secluded lookout point, all of San Francisco glittered at Ella’s feet. I’d draped her in damn near a million bucks’ worth of sapphires and diamonds. The size of the engagement ring I’d slipped on her finger was obscene. None of that meant shit compared to the price I’d paid in giving her my heart. She claimed to love me, but how could she have let me propose, only to announce she’s already married to another man?

  Her words had pierced me.

  They’d hit with shocking clarity, driving me to my knees.

  The year after Mom’s murder—I refused to call her death a suicide, considering my father might as well have crammed those pills in her mouth—a tornado skipped through our town with the capricious whim of a child’s pull-string top. I remember waking the morning after the storm to sadly find our home still in place—even though the living had stopped long before, when Mom’s dead eyes no longer held desperation, but quiet satisfaction. Finally, after years of my father’s abuse, she’d been freed. But I was still there. Barely twelve. Riding my bike with my best friend, Owen, between fallen limbs that transformed our usually quiet street into a slalom. We traveled miles, following the twister’s path through muggy May heat that promised more storms. The wreckage was the housing equivalent of a battlefield, leaving paralyzed stares and buildings with missing limbs. Doc Hallburn’s red Caddy tottered like an upside-down turtle in Carl Mack Jr.’s pond. A gator sidled alongside it, although, to be fair, in hindsight, it might’ve been an old log. Missy, from fourth-period English, stood outside in her nightgown and pink cowboy boots, softly crying while volunteer firemen shimmied a limp noodle of the man who used to be her father out from beneath their fallen magnolia. I first wondered why he’d been out in the yard during the storm. I then envied Missy for having her dad die instead of her mom. We stopped at the end of that block for Owen to catch his breath and eat a Snickers. I rested alongside a telephone pole, leaning against it, breathing in the acrid creosote. I looked up to see a rain-dimpled photocopied picture of Jingles—a lost basset hound. Right above that, just past the duct tape holding the sign in place, had been single piece of straw—maybe even a weed? I didn’t know or care.

  All I remembered now, with clarity so striking that I still saw steam rising from the blacktop and smelled the cloying sweetness of row upon row of Opal Tinctor’s smashed peach preserves rotting in the sun, was the way that lone piece of straw had held the power to pierce that telephone pole.

  Like a bullet, it had stabbed clear through.

  Right now, with cold, damp earth seeping through my pants, dragging me back to the childhood I’d never wanted, that straw was no longer sticking out of a pole, but my heart.

  How had I not seen this coming?

  On some level, I’d known Ella—my Ella—still legally wore another man’s vows. I’d almost questioned her about the way she’d referred to him as her husband in the present tense. Instead, I’d followed my cock instead of logic. Rather than having her background checked nine ways to Sunday, I’d mooned over her with enough theatrics for her to have been some unobtainable, movie-star crush. Stupid. I’d known what we’d shared was too good to last.

  “Liam?” she asked. Her voice sounded far away, as if the moments between my proposal and her proclamation had twisted time and the very earth beneath us until we now occupied our own islands, separated by shark-infested waters and vast, rolling banks of acrid fog.

  I hated her.

  I loved her.

  “Liam, you’re bleeding.”

  I’d clenched her ring so hard that I’d cut my palm. Blood trailed down my wrists and over the stupid sapphire cuff links I’d bought on a whim when selecting her jewelry because they’d matched her blueberry eyes. Blood stained my starched white shirt.

  Kneeling alongside me, she coaxed open my fist, taking the biting bauble. She tucked it into my shirt’s chest pocket before removing my tux coat from her shoulders to wrap one sleeve around my hand. She bundled the rest, wrapping and tucking until it became a black hornet’s nest growing off of my appendage.

  “Instead of the party,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “let’s have your driver take us to the beach house. It’s been such a busy day—busy week,” she tacked on a chatty titter, “wouldn’t it be nice to ring in the new year on our own? We can make popcorn and watch a movie— anything you want. Oh—and we need to stop off for ice cream. We can’t have a party without ice cream.”

  Was she even listening to herself? Why wouldn’t she stop this incessant babble?

  “If you think about it, we have so much to be thankful for, and I really deep-down believe this year’s going to be great. You’ll keep growing your empire, and I’m going to start those online classes.”

  “Stop.”

  “You don’t want ice cream?”

  I don’t want you. Your complications. Your fucked-up past.

  Only, that would be a lie, because even though I knew she was bad for me—like popping an Ambien, then downing a few fingers of scotch—even if I washed my hands of her tonight, come morning, she’d still be in my head.

  I didn’t want to just marry her, I wanted to possess her.

  “Liam, please . . . talk to me.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to say? I don’t commit. You know that. So when I gave you my ring, it kind of meant something. Where do you get off, keeping a bombshell like this? If I hadn’t been dim-witted enough to propose, would you have ever told me?”

  “Yes—no . . . maybe.”

  “Maybe?” At that, I had to laugh. “Christ, I’ve gotta get out of here. Away from you.”

  “No, Liam, you don’t. Nothing has to change. I’ll wear your ring. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’ve got the perfect solution. Don’t marry Ella, but Julie Smith. She’s single and ready to mingle.” Her forced cheer turned my stomach. “Perfect, right? We kill Ella. Blaine never has to know. With all your money, you could actually do that, right? Fake Ella’s death?”

  “Yeah . . . That’s not gonna work.” My legs cramped, so I awkwardly stood, turning away from her, because even though her so-called solution was so ludicrous I couldn’t bear seeing her hopeful expression, a part of me wanted to agree. She’d gazed at me all wide-eyed and eager—like my kitten anticipating a treat. As if somewhere in the time since refusing my proposal and now, she’d developed a split personality and didn’t remember the terror she’d shown moments ago. I was beyond pissed to even be in this situation—not only at her for not telling me sooner, but at myself for not having asked. This whole issue was stupid. But not impossible. “Look . . .” I forced a deep breath. “First thing in the morning, I’m going to get Garrett on this. He’ll file the necessary documents and get the ball rolling. But now . . .” I shook my head. I didn’t want to leave her, but in the same respect, I didn’t trust myself to be with her and keep my hands off her. I needed space to process what just happened. How what was supposed to have been the best night of my life—our lives—had disintegrated into a nightmare. “Just like that? You’re breaking your promise?” I arched my head back and sighed.

  “Funny, how when you said you’d never leave me, I trusted you. Now, I know you’re no different from anyone else I’ve ever loved.”

  She started walking, tottering on the packed dirt road, and I let her.

  I literally felt frozen. What had she expected? How was I supposed to react upon learning she was still married to a guy twisted enough to have carved a message on her tits? He was fucked. I was fucked. Hell, we were all fucked.

  Her crystal-coated gown caught the moonlight.

  When she tripped, she fell like a lightning bug stripped of her wings.

  I could no more leave her sitting alone and crying in th
e dirt than I could pretend I’d soon forget her. How could I, when she’d become part of me?

  I jogged her way, kneeling alongside her. “I’m sorry. But finding out you’re still legally tied to a monster? It’s not okay.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know, but realistically, what did you think would happen? Where did you think we were headed?”

  “I don’t know—I just thought we were together. Why can’t we be a couple without marriage? Why is it even a big deal? You said you don’t commit.”

  True. Which was exactly why this was a huge deal—because she’d turned me upside down and inside out and I couldn’t stand it. She’d emotionally stripped me naked and raw and here I was, left struggling to find my way—only, she was my way. My everything.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop. I know you didn’t plan this.” Honestly, I’d never even planned on proposing. But then I’d also never seen myself developing an obsession, and, like it or not, that’s what Ella had become. “Not gonna lie—this situation sucks, but it is what it is. Garrett will handle it.” I took her hands, drawing her to her feet. “How’s the ankle?”

  “Good,” she said with a grim-faced nod.

  “Need me to carry you?”

  “I . . . can—walk.” Her words tumbled haphazard like falling leaves. I wasn’t convinced, so I called the driver.

  In the moments before the limo returned, I took her left hand, drawing down her glove. When it was off, I shoved it in my pants pocket. I unwrapped my jacket from my palm to find my cut had stopped bleeding. I tucked the jacket under my arm, then put Ell’s ring where it belonged. “Here’s how this is going down. We’re going to continue as if this talk never happened. We’re going to enjoy our night—our engagement—and in the morning, Garrett will make your ugly marriage go away.”

  The limo approached, washing us in the headlights’ harsh glare.

  The driver should have found us in an embrace. Instead, Ell and I stood like strangers. After slipping my ring on her finger, I couldn’t even bring myself to hold her hand. None of this was her fault, so why couldn’t I let it go? Why did my body feel heavy with the sensation of having been duped?

  I helped her into the car.

  Seated alongside her, I texted Carol to meet us at the suite I’d reserved at The Fairmont with a fresh tux for me and dress for Ella. Then I sat back and brooded.

  We sat a couple of feet apart.

  I wanted her on my lap.

  She stared straight ahead, twisting my ring as if it were a prayer bead. The set of her mouth was grim.

  I asked, “What’re you thinking?” She shook her head.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I can’t.” As if proving her point, she refused to even look my way.

  “Seriously?” I sighed.

  Twist, twist, twist she went with my ring.

  “Why are you pissed at me? What the hell did I do—other than try to give you a happy ending?”

  “God—how can you not get it?” She covered her face with her hands. “You don’t know my husband—what he’s capable of doing. You say you want to give me a happy ending as if Garrett has a magic wand, but it won’t be that simple. When Blaine said he’d kill me before letting me go, he meant it.”

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “Look, I get that this guy hurt you. I understand you’re afraid of rocking his boat, but babe,” I grasped her wrists, pulling her hands from her face to take them in mine, “I promise you—promise—that in me, this guy has more than met his match. No matter what, I’ll protect you.”

  She shook her head. Streetlights reflected in the silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “You think I can’t protect you?” The mere thought hurt deep in my soul. A woman needed to feel protected. I wanted to save Ella from her husband the way I hadn’t been able to save my mom.

  “You don’t know him. He carved a note into my skin. He’s sick—sick in a way I don’t think you can even comprehend.”

  Oh—I knew sickness. I’d lived with it. My dad was—still is—a sick fuck. But she was right in the fact that I’d never done direct battle with someone not right in the head. So what? Did that mean I couldn’t take him on? Not a chance. Once I got through with him, the guy would fold like a cheap camp chair.

  “I’m not only afraid of him hurting me, but you.”

  “Never going to happen.” I cupped her cheeks, brushing her tears with my thumbs. “Trust me, a few months from now, your marriage will be nothing more than a bad dream.”

  “I-I want to believe you. But—and please don’t be offended—your way of dealing with problems is to throw money at them until they go away. Blaine has lots of cash. How do you fight a guy who’s immune to your most powerful weapon?” Good question. But I’d figure it out.

  For Terry. I love you. Thanks for tagging along on this crazy ride!

  Lost

  Found

  Need

  Want

  Photo: Brenda Horan

  LAURA MARIE ALTOM is the author of more than seventy books in three different genres. Now that her kids are grown, Laura spends her days writing and chasing after a menagerie of pets: a mini long-haired dachshund named Coco, a Yorkie named Chewie, a mutt named Yeti, and Domino—a black-and-white stealth cat she rarely sees. She’s happily married to her college sweetheart (go, Hogs!), and when night falls, Laura steals a few romantic moments for herself with her own hunky cover stud.

  www.lauramariealtom.com

  Lost is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 Control by Laura Marie Altom

  Copyright © 2020 Lost Second Edition by Laura Marie Altom

  Excerpt from Possess by Laura Marie Altom copyright © 2014 by Laura Marie Altom

  Excerpt from Found by Laura Marie Altom copyright © 2020 by Laura Marie Altom

  All rights reserved.

  Second Printing Published in the United States by Fulton Court Press.

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming books Found by Laura Marie Altom. This excerpt have been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming editions.

  www.lauramariealtom.com