Dirty Rich Secrets Part One

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “If this is his place, how do you know he doesn’t know how to get away?”

  “I took precautions,” he assures me and then he’s standing in front of me, cupping my face. “I’m going to make all of this go away.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible,” I say.

  “Watch and see. We’ll finish our talk when I get back.” He releases me and grabs his coat from the hook by the door before he pulls on a scarf and the hood of his jacket. He glances back at me. “Come lock up behind me.”

  “Don’t go. Please.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He opens the door, and in a gust of freezing wind, looks over his shoulder. “Lock up, now,” he orders.

  I rush forward, and it’s too late to stop him. He’s outside, disappearing into a whiteout of snow and wind. I shut the door and lock it, landing against it and praying for his return. I again listen for any sounds that tell me anything. I remind myself that Aaron isn’t Noah. He’s a CIA agent. He’s a killer. Okay, I’m not sure this makes me feel better. What would make me feel better is him inside this cabin right now. And then us leaving. Time ticks by. More time ticks by. I think of my last trip to Colorado, me and Noah as I knew him then. We were actually in Aspen at a fancy house with a mountain view when a snowstorm, not so unlike this one, blasted the area and us.

  The night he proposed, the night hot chocolate became a thing for us—

  I’m comfy in jeans and a navy Aspen T-shirt that matches the one Noah is wearing, that we’d bought while in the cute little downtown area. It’s cozy and perfect, the exact way we’re cozy and perfect. I’ve never been like this with anyone. I’ve never felt this right and good like I’m having a love affair with my best friend.

  “There’s word of a blizzard that’s supposed to hit tomorrow morning,” Noah announces, joining me in the living room that is plush and wonderful, with high-end brown couches made of some sort of velvety material. “You might want to let your boss know we aren’t going anywhere until it ends.”

  “He’s in between trials,” I say, “so he won’t be overly flustered.”

  “What would he do if you just didn’t come back?” he asks as he sits down and offers me one of the two cups in his hands. “Orange brandy hot chocolate.”

  “Oh my gosh,” I say. “It sounds wonderful.”

  “It is,” he says. “Try it.”

  I sip and the warm, wonderful beverage explodes with chocolatey delight in my mouth. “It’s perfection, and as for my boss, we’ve been together for years. It would be like severing one arm. We’re like one body. We’re really good together.”

  He sets his cup down and takes mine to do the same. “We’re really good together.”

  “Yes,” I say. “We are. I really should have you meet Cole. I don’t know how we’ve never made that happen. It’s been months.”

  “We’re really good together,” he repeats.

  “Yes,” I say again, warming all over. “We are.”

  “You’ve changed me.”

  “I have?” I ask curiously. “You don’t seem changed.”

  “I am,” he says. “In ways you don’t understand, but one day, you will. I need to leave the country.”

  I blanch, stunned that we’ve gone from saying how good we are together to this. “What? When? For how long?”

  “An extended period and soon. It’s a company job. They need me there in an urgent way. It was unexpected, but it’s necessary.”

  “Oh,” I say, feeling my breath catch. “So this trip is a goodbye trip.”

  “No. This trip is not a goodbye trip. Woman, I’m not saying goodbye to you ever, unless you make me. Even then, I’d fight to keep you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I murmur.

  He goes down on one knee in front of me and reaches under the couch to produce a blue ring box. “Come to Europe with me. Come everywhere with me for the rest of our lives. Marry me.” He opens the lid to display a stunning, platinum emerald-cut diamond ring. “Marry me. I love you. I love you so damn much.”

  I start to cry. I don’t know why. I just do.

  “You’re crying,” he says. “That can’t be good.”

  “It is,” I say. “It is. I love you so damn much, too. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

  A gunshot jolts me back to the present. A gunshot outside where Aaron is right now. Where the man I still love so damn much is. I don’t know what to do. Do I go help him? How do I do that and not end up dead? If I’m dead, I can’t help him. Oh God, I don’t know what to do.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ashley…

  Silence follows the gunshot, and I’m a wreck. I count the seconds: one, four, twenty, one hundred. I can’t take it. I have to know Aaron’s okay. I turn to open the door at the same moment there’s a knock. “It’s Aaron, baby. Let me inside.”

  I set the gun on the counter to my right and quickly unlock the door only to have him rush inside, snow plastered all over him. He pulls the hood of his coat down and looks at me. “It was a damn bear,” he huffs out, slamming the door behind him and locking it. “Damn thing came at me. I didn’t want to kill it, but fuck, it tried to kill me.”

  “Oh God. I did that. I’m the reason you went out there. I made you kill a bear.”

  “I didn’t kill it,” he says. “I managed to scare it away with the gunfire, which is a miracle.” He shrugs out of his coat. “Bears don’t scare easily. Not big ones like that.” He pulls off a pair of gloves I didn’t even know he’d grabbed when he left. “And you were right. There was something outside the window. A big fucking something.”

  “But you knew it wasn’t a person,” I say. “I should have listened to you. You’re the CIA agent.”

  “I knew nothing of the sort until I went out there.”

  “I could have gotten you killed. I was terrified when I heard that gunshot.”

  He steps to me and rests his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t die easily, baby. Believe me, I don’t. I’m okay. We’re okay. We’re going to get answers from Edward and end this hell.”

  “Are you sure he’s secure?”

  “I drugged him and for a reason. I need sleep, and I need time with the woman I was supposed to call my wife, or she’ll never end up my wife. And don’t reply to that. I made a decision out there in the snow. I’m going to ask again. I’m going to convince you to marry me, even if I have to start all over again.” He kisses my hand. “Hungry?”

  My heart is a little too happy with those words, considering how we got here, and my stomach is a ball of nerves. “How do we eat when we could be attacked at any moment?”

  “We’re not going to be attacked at any moment.”

  “But Edward’s behavior was odd, right?”

  “He clearly has a death wish and is too much of a coward to do it himself.”

  “But he called you in advance. You said he didn’t want to get his head blown off. I know you know that. Don’t coddle me. Don’t lie to me again. Not even to protect me. And clearly, I’m still angry.”

  His hands settle on my waist. “No coddling. No lies. And you have every right to be angry. I don’t have one ounce of understanding as to what the fuck that was that he pulled here tonight. But I promise you, I will when he wakes up.”

  “You can’t make him talk.”

  “I can make him talk.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “He cares about a woman in Mexico.”

  I swallow hard. “You’ll threaten her?”

  “I’ll do what I need to do.”

  “And he’ll believe you’ll hurt her.”

  “Yes. He will.”

  “I thought—”

  “I won’t kill her. That’s not who I am.”

  “But he believes you are?”

  “Because it’s who he is. Baby, I’m a killer, but I’m not that killer. Why don’t we put a frozen pizza in the oven and eat? I know how you love frozen pizza.”

  His understanding of my hate for frozen pizza reminds me of ju
st how well he knows me. He gets me, but do I get him? It’s hard to process how we could be the same two people we were when he’s the person who threatens a life, and others believe he means business. “I don’t think I can eat.”

  “I have peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Hot chocolate? Maybe we can really drink it this time?”

  “Hot chocolate it is,” he says, his voice hitching with worry.

  A few minutes later, we sit down on the couch and stare at the fire, sipping our hot chocolates. Long minutes pass in silence, the kind of silence that’s always been safe with him. He feels safe, and it’s confusing. He sets his mug down and takes mine, turning to face me. “I know you’re scared.”

  He’s right. I am. “I want this storm to be over. I want to leave this cabin.”

  “And we will. As soon as the roads clear.”

  “And go where?”

  “I’ll let you know when I decide.”

  “What about Edward?” I ask. “Are you going to kill him?”

  His jaw tenses. “Do you want that answer?”

  “Yes. No lies.”

  “Then yes, I’m going to kill him.”

  I wait for this to bother me, but I think at this point, I’m numb. I’ve turned off a switch, and I’m in survival mode. I think I won’t know what I really feel until later, perhaps much later. “And then what? We ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after? Is that really possible?”

  “Damn straight we do, and it is.”

  “Like the CIA will let you walk away? They think you’re a criminal.”

  “I’ll prove I’m not, and I’ll resign. I told you. I have cash saved up. I’ll go into private hire work. We can go anywhere you want to go, and you can have your identity back. They took it to hide you from me.”

  “I can be me again?”

  “Yes, baby, you can be you again. I’m going to make that happen.”

  “How will I explain who you are?”

  “The truth. I was CIA, and you couldn’t tell anyone who I was.”

  “It feels too simple.”

  “Simple is safe and good. Always go with simple.”

  “We aren’t simple.”

  He lowers me to the couch and comes down on top of me. “We are as simple as it gets. Two people who love each other.”

  “Yes, but—”

  His mouth closes down on mine, and I forget what I was going to say. There is just his tongue licking against my tongue, and his hand sliding under my backside, caressing it, lifting me. “I really need to feel you close.”

  “We just did that,” I remind him.

  “Six months without you, Ashley. We didn’t do nearly enough.”

  My hand settles on his face. “I hated thinking you were the enemy.”

  “I hated knowing you thought I was the enemy.” And then he’s kissing me again, and his hands and mouth travel to my jaw, my neck, then lower. He pulls my sweater over my head and then he’s kissing my nipples, cupping my breasts. Kissing and licking a path down my body until he’s pressing his mouth to my belly and unzipping my pants. Heat rushes through me with the certainty of what he plans to do, and it’s been so long, so very long.

  I’m right about where his mouth will travel next. He tugs my pants down and drags them, along with my shoes, off of my body. Then his hands are on my ankles, his eyes meeting mine. “I haven’t properly tasted you in six months.”

  My nipples and my sex clench with that bold statement. “There’s a lot we haven’t done in six months.”

  “Too much,” he says, easing my legs apart, settling one on his shoulder while he settles between my thighs and strokes a finger over my clit.

  I suck in air and arch my hips, sensations rolling through me, and his mouth isn’t even on me yet, but it will be, oh God, it will be, and I need this. I need this and him and—he licks me and presses two fingers inside me, a move that ends me in so many ways. There is no thinking, no worrying, no feeling anything but pleasure, only pleasure. So much pleasure. He licks, he strokes, he touches, he caresses. He pumps his fingers in my sex, and I lift into every move, push, and grind. I can’t help it. I can’t help myself with this man. He opens me up in ways no other man has and explores my body. Tears down my walls and inhibitions, and with that, we were always so damn hot together.

  I don’t know where I am right now. I only know where his mouth and fingers touch, and it’s no time before I’m shattering, my body quaking into a crazy, hard release that I feel in every part of me. I collapse into the cushion, and he lowers my leg, sliding up my body to kiss me long and deep before he says, “Taste yourself on my lips. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “Yes. It is.”

  “Let’s go make that pizza and then I’ll eat you again for dessert.”

  I laugh. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

  “We both know that’s not true.” He winks and pulls me into a sitting position, giving me a sideways look. “It’s good to be with you, Ashley.”

  “It’s good to be with you, too.”

  “I never wanted to leave you. You know that, right?”

  I think of the gifts he sent me before I went into hiding. “You sent me flowers.”

  He turns to look at me. “What?”

  “You sent me flowers. I was shocked. You sent me a note. You said it was all lies. You said—”

  “I didn’t send you flowers. I wouldn’t have done anything to make them think they could use you as bait.”

  “But someone did and the note said it was from you.”

  “Someone,” he bites out and then he’s pushing to his feet, his body stiff, ready for attack.

  I grab his hand and stand up. “Wait. What’s happening?”

  “It’s time to wake Edward the fuck up and find out what kind of game he’s been playing with us.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Aaron…

  The flowers say it all.

  Someone wanted her to end up in protective custody. This knowledge has me on my feet and walking toward the kitchen in about three seconds. Edward is somehow behind this. He did this. I know he did, and I want to know why one of the only people I have trusted in years fucked me and my woman over like this.

  “Noah!” Ashley calls from behind me and that name, my real name, the name she knows me as, but I can no longer use, hits ten nerves.

  I lied to her.

  She’s going to struggle to get by that, but I’m going to make it easier. I’m going to get us the answers we need to move on. I enter the kitchen and move the table. “What are you doing?”

  I glance up to find Ashley in the doorway, once again dressed. “Getting answers.”

  “No,” she says, running forward to stand on top of the basement door. “Right now, you’re angry and emotional. That’s not the time to deal with this.”

  Angry and emotional.

  I don’t get angry and emotional, at least not when it comes to business, and Edward was always business. He taught me that. No friends. Only enemies. That’s what being an agent is all about. That’s how you survive. That’s how I make sure Ashley survives. I pull one of my guns and hand it to her, pressing it into her palm. “I’m not going to shut the door. Shoot anyone who comes into the cabin and shout for me.”

  Her eyes go wide. “How would anyone get in here in this storm?”

  I stroke her face. “I’m not emotional or angry, but when I’m down there, and you’re up here, I’m paranoid as fuck. I’ll leave the door open. Stay right here where I can get to you and shout out if you need me.” I move to the stairs. “Don’t come down here.” I don’t give her time to reply. I need those damn answers.

  Two steps down, I pull my other weapon because, yes, Edward is tied up and knocked out, but I take nothing for granted. I reach the basement, scanning the area, the crates to my left and right are filled with an excess of weapons. Edward is as I left him, in a corner on the floor, chained to a bar, his body slouched over. I call upstairs. “As
hley!”

  “Yes? I’m here.”

  Relief washes over me that I didn’t realize how damn much I needed to feel. There is unease in me, a sense of more happening than I know, right here in this moment. “Everything okay up there?”

  “Yes. Everything okay down there?”

  “Yes. Stay at the door, keep the gun ready. Watch your surroundings.”

  “I am. I will.”

  She’s brave. She’s strong. She’s capable of more than she realizes, but I see it. I have always seen that in her. I have always been drawn to that in her. Holstering my weapon, I walk past a row of cabinets and stop at the desk next to them where I pull on the gloves I left there earlier. Next, I open a drawer and pull out a filled syringe that will shoot adrenaline into Edward and wake his ass up. Easing closer to Edward, I nudge him with my foot, but he doesn’t move. I repeat, and fuck, he’s stiff. I kneel down and check for a pulse, grimacing as I do. He’s dead. I turn him over, and the foam at his mouth tells me all I need to know. He drugged himself. I was right. He came here with a death wish. Why the fuck did this man, who was all about control, have a death wish?

  I stand up and scrub my jaw. What did he know that he didn’t want me to know? And why the fuck come here if that were the case? I’d like to think that this is it. That he was our only enemy. That he’s dead, and it’s over, but that doesn’t feel right.

  “Aaron?!”

  “I’m fine, baby,” I call out. “Stay where you are.”

  We’re sitting ducks here, but we can’t leave until this blizzard over. According to the forecasts, that’s another six hours. I scan the basement and then start a second search to backup the one I performed earlier, hoping I’ve missed something, but I haven’t. There’s nothing here that tells me anything helpful. I pull off the gloves and toss them on the ground. I’m burning this place to the ground when I leave. The gloves are irrelevant.

  Ashley waits anxiously for me at the top level. “That was fast. You didn’t wake him up?”

  “He took poison,” I say, taking the gun from her hands and shoving it in my waistband. “He’s dead.” I shut the basement door.

  She gasps and covers her mouth. “Oh my God. You were right. He had a death wish.”