Owen (Undercover Billionaire Book 3)

by Melody Anne

  This moment right here, this moment when they simply held each other as they processed the powerful emotion of what they’d just shared—this was the moment when she’d truly fallen in love with him at the tender age of seventeen.

  The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to hold them back. He was no longer hers—just as she was no longer his. She wouldn’t regret this night. It had been exactly what she’d needed. But it was time to go.

  With reluctance, she lifted her head, not looking Owen in the eyes as she shoved against his chest. He hesitated before pulling back, their bodies separating. Eden felt extreme sadness at the loss.

  She didn’t say a word as she gathered her clothes, then walked naked into his bathroom. She refused to look at her image in the mirror as she dressed. She pressed her forehead against the bathroom door and took a few breaths before walking out. Owen was right where she’d left him. He’d at least put his pants back on. However, his chest was bare, and she wasn’t surprised to feel desire tighten once more in her stomach.

  “I need to go,” she told him, her voice composed. He didn’t say anything, so she finally looked up. His eyes were burning.

  “You’ll be back,” he told her with confidence.

  She feared he was right. Instead of arguing, she turned and walked from his house.

  Chapter Two

  Eden made it home before she remembered she’d put her phone on silent. She decided to check whether her father had left her a message. She was surprised when she saw eight missed calls—all from her dad.

  Panic immediately set in as she backed her car from her driveway and sped toward her father’s place. She didn’t take the time to check the messages. Something had to be wrong for him to call her that many times. And she’d been ignoring him so she could be with Owen.

  She saw the flashing red-and-blue lights before she turned the corner to his driveway. Her panic escalated. She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Slamming her foot on the gas pedal, she drove the last block to his place in about one second. She screeched to a halt, tears welling in her eyes at the sight of an ambulance.

  Jumping from her vehicle, she ran up the walkway and was halted at the doorway by two officers.

  “What’s happening?” she shouted. “Let me inside.”

  “They’re working on him, Eden,” Officer Jenkins said, his voice calm.

  “Why are they working on him? What’s happening?” she asked.

  “The neighbor called it in. She was taking a walk and heard a crash inside the house and knocked, and there wasn’t an answer. The paramedics are here. Let them work,” Jenkins told her.

  “I want to see my dad. Let me in,” she yelled. They didn’t move. “Dad! Dad, I’m here,” she cried. There wasn’t a response. “I’m here,” she said again, her voice choked. “I’m here,” she repeated.

  “Eden . . .” She turned. Owen was there.

  “What?” she practically snarled. “Why are you here?”

  “Eden, come here. I’ll wait with you,” he told her. He held out a hand, standing a few feet back.

  “No!” She took a step away from him. “I was with you. He called and I was with you,” she sobbed. “I ignored his calls when he needed me.”

  “Eden, let’s just wait together. Good people are with him,” Owen told her.

  “No. I should have answered. I should’ve been here,” she sobbed. She turned back to Jenkins. “Please let me see my dad.”

  Jenkins looked as if he was going to cry. “There are several people in there, Eden. Just let them work, please,” he replied.

  Owen’s arm wrapped around her, and she lost the will to fight him. She let him pull her aside, and she crumpled against him. Minutes passed. People moved in and out of the house; medical terms were spoken. But no one told her what was happening. After at least twenty minutes, she turned back to Jenkins, hope in her voice.

  “If they’re working this long, it means he’s okay, right? They wouldn’t still be working if he wasn’t okay.” She was begging him to agree with her.

  “They’re doing all they can,” Jenkins said noncommittally. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

  More time passed. She didn’t hear Owen’s words, didn’t hear anything. She just gazed toward the house, toward the back where she knew they were working on her father. Then one of the paramedics stepped out, his face composed, but she knew . . .

  “Eden . . .” He paused, and she sobbed. “Eden, I’m sorry. We did all we could. He didn’t make it.”

  Eden felt faint as she tried processing those words. She couldn’t speak. She only stared at him. No. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way this was happening.

  “But he’s healthy. He’s okay. He’s always been okay,” she said, pleading with him to be wrong.

  “I’m sorry, Eden. I’m so sorry.”

  Owen tried to hold her, but she pushed him away. She couldn’t stand to be touched right then. She gazed at the house as several men walked from the back of it holding bags and medical equipment. Each person who passed her apologized for her loss, then looked toward the floor while they respectfully left.

  Eden stood there in complete shock. There was ringing in her ears. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

  “The medical examiner will be here shortly; then they’ll take your dad to the funeral home,” Jenkins told her.

  She nodded as if she could understand him. He moved, allowing her to step inside. She finally did so. Jenkins and his partner stood by the door, waiting.

  “Do you want me with you?” Owen asked. His voice sounded as if it was coming to her through a long tunnel. She shook her head. She couldn’t speak.

  She moved through her father’s house. It was where she’d spent most of her childhood. She knew every inch of it. Her dad’s bedroom door was open, a light spilling through it. She stopped a few feet away and stared.

  Her father was in there. She’d never believe he was gone if she didn’t go inside. Her feet felt as if they were encased in cement blocks. But she pushed herself forward. Finally, she made it to the door.

  And there he was.

  A blanket was pulled up to his chin; his eyes were closed. His skin was white.

  He looked as if he were simply sleeping. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe he was just sleeping. Eden moved forward and fell to the floor beside him. She reached out and ran a finger across his cheek.

  His skin was cold. But beyond that she didn’t feel him. He wasn’t sleeping. He was no longer there. Her dad was gone. “Dad?” There was no answer. “Daddy, please.” There was no answer.

  She wasn’t sure how she managed to find the strength to rise to her feet, but she did. She looked at him one final time and walked from the room. That was no longer her father, and she couldn’t stand to be there even one second more.

  She kept on walking right out of the house. And then she ran, her heart broken, her mind desperately wanting to shut down. She ran faster until she tripped and fell, her body crashing hard to the ground.

  She felt no pain.

  In life there were days filled with joy . . . and days filled with sorrow. Never before had Eden been consumed with this much pain. It felt as if the world had stopped.

  Pain.

  Sorrow.

  Unbearable agony.

  That’s what Eden felt. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus, couldn’t see a reason for anything anymore. She wondered if there was a purpose to life, a reason for living.

  Rage overtook her sorrow as she lifted her head and gazed at the sky, gazed at the endless expanse before her. There was nothing there. Nothing! It was just empty space. Sure, clouds could fill it, and birds might soar by. At night, little lights that twinkled were visible to the eyes.

  They called those lights stars. But in her broken mind, did she believe what these people said—that those twinkling lights really were stars? Had anyone touched them? Had anyone verified that they were burning masses resting in an end
less expanse of darkness? No. People were simply supposed to take it on faith that they were stars . . . and that they were beautiful.

  They were to take it on faith that the universe wasn’t out to get them. Maybe life was nothing more than a cosmic joke. Maybe they were all in a glass enclosure where little green men were watching them, laughing at them, looking at them as if they were nothing more important than a terrarium filled with ants. And they were all so stupid; they continued making their trails, thinking about how smart they were as they lugged ten times more weight on their shoulders than they could handle.

  And all the while, they were nothing more than entertainment for something a hell of a lot smarter than they were. Yeah, something in the universe had to be laughing at all of them, but especially at her. The pain was so real she couldn’t fathom any other explanation for what she was feeling.

  “Why him?” she pled, the sound a gut-wrenching cry that felt as if it were coming from the pit of her stomach. Her soul felt as if it were being torn from her. “Why? What did he ever do? He was a good man. Why?”

  She said these same words over and over again. There was no response. No answer. She cradled her head in her hands and sobbed. The sounds coming from her would’ve stopped people in their tracks if they’d heard. They would have thought someone was dying for sure.

  But someone had died. Her father had died. He’d tried calling her, and she’d ignored him because she’d been with Owen. Maybe she could have saved him. If only she’d answered her phone, he might still be alive. But she’d been foolish and selfish. And her father was dead because of it.

  And he’d never come back to her. He couldn’t come back. Fate was a bitch that wouldn’t be messed with. Fate liked to play with her little toys, liked to make them dance before her. And when she grew bored, she cut the silver thread that represented a person’s life.

  “You’ve taken enough from me,” Eden yelled, the words cut off by another sob.

  She stayed where she was for so long her legs went numb. When the sobs finally died within her, she simply collapsed, curling up as those deceptive stars twinkled.

  She drifted in and out of consciousness, not sure when she was awake or wasn’t. But at least there were blessed moments of peace, hallowed moments where for a single second she forgot how truly alone she was.

  Finally, she rose. Her mind was blank as she looked around her, wondering where she should go. She was utterly numb. She prayed she’d stay that way.

  With no clue where she was heading, she began to move.

  “Come find me now,” she said, a humorless laugh escaping. She wasn’t even sure the sound had come from her. “You think you hold my life in your hands. Well, you don’t,” she continued. “Fate. Everyone always said it’s in the hands of fate. Well, screw you!” she screamed. “I create my own fate. You don’t get to plan my life.”

  With that, Eden walked on with no destination in mind. She didn’t care about anything anymore. The one person who’d sworn to never leave her had done just that. He might not have chosen to leave, but he’d indeed left her. And she wasn’t sure she could forgive him for it. She wasn’t sure she could forgive herself. And she certainly wouldn’t rely on fate or what it thought it might have in store for her.

  The funny thing about fate, though, was no matter how much you yelled, no matter what plans you tried to make, she truly was a bitch, and she had her own ways of making things happen . . .

  He chuckled to himself as he slowly sang the nursery rhyme while he lit the first flame.

  “Ring around the rosy,

  A pocketful of posies,

  Ashes, ashes,

  We all fall down!

  “Let’s see you catch me now.” His laughter rang through the woods as the dry brush quickly went up in flames, immediately beginning to lick up the walls of the old barn in beautiful shades of orange and red. There’d be nothing left of their operation. For that matter, there might be nothing left of the entire town.

  It didn’t matter to him. They’d messed in his business, and now they’d all pay . . .

  Chapter Three

  Six Months Later

  How could one action turn into something so deadly? How could a tiny spark become a massive flame? How could a foolish mistake end in death?

  These were questions firefighters asked themselves each time they rushed into deadly firestorms, praying they weren’t too late. These were questions that would never get satisfactory answers.

  Don’t play with fire, or you might get burned.

  Owen Forbes grimaced as this thought flashed through his mind. Raising his gloved hand, he swiped across his cheek, smearing soot and sweat more deeply into his skin, but at least relieving the itch.

  “Break’s over!” someone yelled.

  Looking up, Owen caught the eye of John, a longtime friend and coworker who was currently swinging his ax as he mowed down dry brush, trying to clear a path to gain even a smidgen of control over the massive wildfire they were trying to stop.

  Owen flipped off his friend before getting back to work creating a fire line. Though the hotshots were out in force battling this blaze, Owen wasn’t going to sit back and do nothing as the forests too close to his home burned nearly out of control.

  With the unusually warm Washington summer, the town of Edmonds was on the verge of feeling more heat than it was prepared for. Owen refused to let that happen. A series of fires set throughout the woods surrounding Edmonds, Washington, beginning six months earlier had been obvious arson. This last one had gotten out of control, and they’d yet to get a handle on it . . . or who was causing so much destruction.

  “No, thanks,” John called out with a chuckle. It took a moment for Owen’s tired brain to compute what he was saying. Guess he didn’t like the offer of Owen’s hand gesture.

  Owen sighed, glad for a momentary reprieve when it felt as if the world was coming to an end. Of course, every fire he fought made it feel as if they were in the pits of hell. Even feeling that way, it didn’t matter. He loved his job, loved the thrill of it, and loved the lives he was saving, both human and the creatures that inhabited this world with them.

  The forest he was in was rugged, beautiful, and in serious jeopardy. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation, and no one was shying away. For the past ten years, Owen had been fighting fires. He’d left home needing to be a hero for one person. Then he’d decided that wasn’t enough. He’d become a firefighter at the age of nineteen and hadn’t ever looked back.

  But he was home now, and he had a lot to atone for. He was confident he could do just that, but confidence could only take a person so far. He needed a damn miracle to pay for his sins, and he wasn’t thinking about the blaze at the moment of that thought.

  A fire was like a woman. It was mysterious, had no logical explanation for the path it took, and consumed you from the outside in. Sometimes a splash of cold water was necessary to douse the flames, and at other times, a damn ocean wasn’t enough to fix the problem. But eventually, the fire would be soothed, would be extinguished. That’s where the similarities ended.

  A woman wasn’t something to be toyed with, wasn’t something to be extinguished. A woman was to be cherished, and when a man was foolish enough to forget that lesson for even a moment, the fire in her might be quenched for good—and there was nothing that would bring the blaze back into her eyes.

  Owen hoped like hell he hadn’t permanently put out the blaze with the love of his life. She hadn’t been too thrilled by his return to town. It was a good thing he was as confident as he was, because when he wanted something, he didn’t give up, no matter how futile the situation might seem.

  Inhaling a deep breath, Owen felt faint. He’d just sucked in something, but it certainly wasn’t fresh air. Throwing down his ax, he picked up his water bottle and took a long swig. That’s when he looked around and saw how bad the situation had become.

  A fire could turn on you in seconds, and it appeared luck wasn’t going to be with him on
this day. This blaze was pissed off, and she was coming for him and the other men. She wanted to embrace them, and it wasn’t a warm hug they’d get, but a fiery burn they wouldn’t recover from.

  “John, we’re getting boxed in,” Owen called.

  John looked up from what he was doing, his body going still. They’d both been lost in their thoughts, which was a foolish rookie mistake they shouldn’t be making.

  “What the fu—” John’s words were cut off when Trevor screamed. Both men turned in the newbie’s direction.

  “Let’s go,” Owen cried as he and John raced downhill toward the twenty-two-year-old kid whose coat was on fire. In a panic, the kid waved his arm, making the blaze travel across his back. He spun in a circle.

  “Stop,” John yelled as they quickly approached. They pushed the kid to the ground, rolling him in the hot dirt. The fire was still coming for them. A spark must have landed on Trevor, and just that quickly he’d caught fire.

  Part of the flesh of his face was deeply burned, and he was moaning, only half-conscious, his uniform smoldering, his flesh scorched too badly for him to remain awake. Only blackness could extinguish the pain he must be feeling.

  “We need to get him help now,” Owen shouted. The roar of the blaze was deafening. They’d gotten themselves trapped on this mountain, and if they didn’t get out now, none of them were going to see their families again.

  Sweat poured off Owen, but he ignored the heat. He’d take a hot sauna of steam any day over the scorching flames of the fire. He and John each wrapped an arm around Trevor’s still body and ran for their lives.

  They’d all get out together, or they’d go up in flames as one. There was no other choice.

  Chapter Four

  Eden sighed as she sat in traffic, looking out at the scenic view of the Olympic Mountains. She’d been born and raised in Edmonds, Washington, and she loved the town, loved every square mile of the place. It was nestled in the foothills of the Cascade Range with a spectacular view of Puget Sound. Seattle was close, but there was still a small-town feel to the place.