Billionaire's Trust (Standalone Book) (Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)

by Davis, Alexa

  What I did know was that I was now hooked on Brooke Raines and I needed to see her again. I just didn't know how I was going to convince her to see me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Brooke

  The next morning, I woke up with Dax on my mind. I'd dreamed about him all night, but it wasn't a good dream, it was one in which he was chasing me around the city calling my name. I tried not to hear him, but I couldn't help it. He was loud and there was an ache in his voice that always caused me to turn around and look. I woke up feeling exhausted.

  As I brewed a pot of strong coffee, the phone rang. I picked it up and saw that it was my dad, so I answered. "Hey, Dad, what's up?"

  "Morning, Brookie. How you doing?" he said in the cheerful tone of someone who was already fully caffeinated.

  "I'm tired, but okay," I said as I tried to unsuccessfully stifle a yawn.

  "What were you doing last night?" my father asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

  "Nothing illegal or immoral, I assure you," I laughed. "I was just out late and had strange dreams."

  "I hope that they're not related," my dad said.

  "Eh, not really," I replied as I pulled a mug from the cabinet and filled it with the dark hot brew. I sipped and then pulled back and blew on the cup hoping to cool it down enough to drink it. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Dad, what do you know about the Apex Club over on 6th and Harlem?"

  "Not much other than the local gossip," he said. "Why, what's up?"

  "I'm just curious," I said. "Jordie and Roger put the guy who owns it on a list of potential new clients and I'm trying to figure out why."

  "Oh, that?" my dad said. "That's probably because his lawyer was recently fished out of the drink."

  "No, I know that," I said. "I'm trying to figure out why a guy like that wouldn't have a huge firm behind him. Why would he be in need of a new lawyer? Who was Lydia Banks anyway?"

  "Why do you suddenly want to know all of this, kiddo?" my dad asked in a concerned voice.

  "I'm supposed to meet with him and convince him that he should hire our firm to represent him, but I can't get a handle on how best to do that when I don't know his history," I conveniently left out the fact that I'd been on a date with the guy the night before and that I found myself fantasizing about doing some very intimate things with him in the privacy of my own home. My dad didn't need to know everything.

  "I don't know what his story is, kiddo," my dad said. "I know the rumors, but you know how much stock I put in rumors."

  "What are the rumors?" I asked.

  "The usual, you know, illegal gambling, drugs and prostitution happening in and out of the club," my dad rattled off the list of standard accusations that every club owner in LA seemed to have hanging over their head. Most were at least partially true, but to what extent was anyone's guess. Unless the owners were arrested, the accusations were deemed unfounded by the paper, so my dad took everything with a grain of salt. His motto was: Give me evidence of the proof and I'll believe you.

  "Oh, okay, got it," I said. "Will you let me know if you hear anything about the Banks case?"

  "If there's any evidence of the proof," Dad said. I laughed out loud as he reminded me that I was due at the house for dinner over the weekend and that my mother was anxiously awaiting notice as to when she could deliver my individually prepared and wrapped meals.

  "Tell her she can drop by any time she likes," I said. "But it'll probably be easier to find me at the office. I'm headed over there as soon as I mainline this coffee."

  "Ah, you're truly your father's daughter," Dad laughed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Dax

  The next morning, I woke up and lay in bed debating whether or not I was going to call Brooke and find out why she'd bolted. Part of me was pissed as hell that she'd left me standing in the door of a well-known restaurant with all those people looking on and wondering what I'd done. The other part of me was worried about what had happened and I wanted to find out if she was okay. The part that was pissed and embarrassed was winning, until after I took a hot shower and got dressed.

  Once I had a hot cup of coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other, I felt a little differently. I switched on the news and saw a reporter standing in front of the club holding a microphone with a caption that read: Club's Lawyer Dies Under Suspicious Circumstances.

  "Well, duh, lady," I said to the television as I turned up the volume and listened to the reporter.

  "Last night, sources close to the investigation into the murder of LA lawyer, Lydia Banks, said that police were closing the circle of suspicion and were looking at Banks’ client list for potential suspects. The murder appears to be an execution and the body thrown into the Marina del Rey Yacht dock as a means of disposing of it. Police are now looking at those who own boats that were docked at Marian del Rey and will be pulling those people in for questioning this later this week. One of those under suspicion is the owner of this club, Dax Malone. Malone was not only a client of Banks’, but he also owns a boat that has been docked at Marina del Rey for the past several years. Sources close to Malone say that there's no way he could have killed Banks, but police are exploring all possible avenues. Live from the front of Malone's club, Apex, this is Action News Reporter, Karen Findlay."

  "Dammit!" I yelled into the empty living room just as my phone started buzzing. I looked down and saw half a dozen calls coming in, I took the one from Riza knowing that it would be the one with the most information. "What's up?"

  "Boss, we have trouble," she said. "Beck's gone missing and so has the boat. And there are a hoard of reporters and photographers here in front of the club."

  "Yeah, I just saw the news," I said as I ran a hand through my hair and tried to think about what to do next. "How long has Beck been missing?"

  "No idea," she replied. "I lost track of him around midnight last night when I had to come back to the club and deal with a couple of wise guys who thought they were going to pull a heist."

  "What the fuck?" I shouted into the phone.

  "Oh please, they were flat out amateurs who had no clue what they were doing," she said. "I taught them a lesson that they won't soon forget and will spread out into the idiot community. There will be no more heists."

  "Tell me you did not attract police attention," I demanded.

  "Nope, no cops, just my own form of justice applied where needed," she said.

  "Who was it?"

  "North side boys who got a little too big for their damn britches," she replied.

  "You sure the lesson was learned?"

  "Abso-fuckin-lutely, boss," she said and I could hear her smiling on the other end. I knew that if Riza taught a lesson in justice, then there would be no further incidents from that crew. She'd learned her methods while in Iraq with the Marines. That was some hardcore shit.

  "Now what are we going to do about Beck?" I asked.

  "I'm gonna head over to the Marina and see if I can locate him with the GPS," she said. "I'll have him back in the club by lunchtime."

  "I'd rather have him in rehab," I muttered.

  "Can't do it unless he wants it, boss," she said. "Any other way and it won't stick."

  "I know, I know," I said. "Just find him, Ri. I don't like having him on the loose while the cops are out there looking to pin Lydia's murder on someone. He's too easy a target for them."

  "Gotcha, boss, I'm on it," she said and then disconnected.

  I sat on the couch staring at my phone until I decided that the part of me that wanted to know what had happened last night was stronger than the part that was pissed. I pulled up Brooke's number and pushed the dial button.

  "Hi, Dax," she said when she answered the phone.

  "Good morning, Brooke," I said. "How are you this morning?"

  "Embarrassed. Ashamed. Mortified," she said. "You name it – I probably feel it."

  "Okay, so I'll bite," I said preparing to jump in. "What the hell happened last nig
ht?"

  "Oh man, that's a loaded question," she sighed.

  "Would you care to answer it or should I just write this off as the most extreme way a woman has said no to me ever?" I asked. I could feel the irritation rising in my chest, but I knew better than to go gangster on Brooke.

  "I'm not sure I can ever apologize enough or sufficiently explain what happened last night," she said hesitantly.

  "Try," I said. "I'll listen, and I won't lose my cool. I promise."

  "It's pretty complicated. Can we meet for a drink later? It'll be easier to explain in person," she said.

  "Only if you swear that it's not going to end the same way it did last night," I said.

  "I do solemnly swear," she said and I could hear the trace of a giggle in her voice. "I will not run off like Cinderella when the clock struck midnight."

  "You didn't even leave me a shoe," I said poking a little fun at her.

  "Well, it's the digital age, you've got my phone number," she laughed. "A shoe seemed kind of old fashioned and needlessly wasteful."

  I burst out laughing and said, "Very well, then we'll meet later."

  "How about we meet at Dooley's around seven?" she suggested.

  "That should work," I replied. "I'll see you then."

  "I'll look forward to it," she said before disconnecting.

  I sat staring at my phone wondering how one woman could create so much inner turmoil and desire. I didn't want to answer that question so I turned my attention to how I was going to deal with the inventory problem at the club.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Brooke

  "Good morning, Alma," I said as I walked through the door. "How are you this fine morning?"

  "Good morning, Miss Raines," Alma said peering at me from behind her round lenses. "I'm well, and today's weather forecast appears to support your assessment of what type of morning it is."

  "Very well, thank you for that information, Alma," I smiled. "Are Jordie and Roger in yet?"

  "The gentlemen are in the conference room and have been there all night, I believe," she said in a voice that was very obviously disapproving.

  "Are they doing something they shouldn't be doing?" I asked.

  "Miss Raines, I was hired to be a secretary and a receptionist for this firm," she replied. Her lips were set in a grim line across the lower half of her face as she murmured, "I was not hired to mind grown up children who still need a mother."

  "I see," I nodded. "I'm sorry that you've been subjected to the boys' bad behavior, Alma. I'll go see what I can do to get them to change their ways and act a little more like adults."

  She nodded as she turned back to the letter she had been typing when I entered and I listened as her fingers flew across the keyboard transforming our words into something presentable. I didn't want to lose Alma over a misunderstanding, so I walked straight to the conference room where I found a scene that caused me to drop my bags and stand staring at the mess.

  "What in the hell have you two done?" I asked as I looked at the walls of the conference room now papered in post-it notes. It looked like a windstorm had set down in a paper factory and left a wild random flurry of multi-colored snow covering every square inch of the room.

  "We've been trying to hash out a way to make the finances work until you land Malone," Roger said in a tired voice. Jordie nodded in agreement as he rested his chin on his hand and almost nodded off. "We got worried that we were going to lose it all if we didn't come up with a backup plan, but I think we figure it out."

  "What in the hell did you two do in here?" I repeated. "And what did you take in order to stay up all night and do this?"

  "What are you talking about Brooke?" Jordie asked.

  "You know full well what I'm talking about," I said in a disapproving voice. "You two bought something to help you push through the night and work. I know it, you know it, we all know it. So cut the crap and just admit it."

  "Fine, whatever, we took some uppers we bought from one of the corner boys," Roger said throwing up his hands like a kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "What the hell? We've all done it, Brooke. I don't know why you're getting all high and mighty on us."

  "Maybe because when I came in this morning our receptionist said she had been hired as a professional office worker, not a babysitter for adult children," I said. "But then maybe it's also because you guys know better! We're a law firm not a frat house, dammit!"

  "Sorry, Brooke," Jordie yawned. "We were just trying to make it all work."

  "I know you guys mean well, but you're going to sink us if you don't get your shit together and get out there and help me drum up some clients!" I yelled. "I'm out trying to convince Malone to hire us as his next legal counsel and you guys are in here popping uppers and wallpapering the conference room with post-its!"

  "Sorry, Brooke," Roger echoed Jordie. "We only wanted to help."

  "If you two lunkheads want to help, you need to get your asses over to the courthouse and figure out who doesn't have representation in their bail hearing, and then offer to represent them," I said. "You guys are so much smarter than this. Stop acting like first-year law students and start acting like professionals who know what they're doing!"

  "You guys are both off today," I said. "Clean this mess up and then go home and get some rest. Come back tomorrow and we'll work out a plan for how you can actually help."

  "Okay," Jordie yawned. "We'll clean this up."

  "Jesus, you two," I said shaking my head as I picked up my things and walked into my office where I sunk down in my chair and hoped that tonight's meeting with Dax would offer the solution to our problems.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Dax

  When I arrived at my office later that morning, I could tell from the moment I set foot in the club that it would be a long day. Kesha caught my attention and said she needed to talk with me as soon as possible. I told her to wait while I dropped my things off and checked the office.

  Upstairs, I found Riza pacing the floor. This was not a good sign.

  "What's up?" I asked as I tried not to let the dread take over.

  "Fucking Beck!" she shouted. "That little bastard is going to fuck us all!"

  "Hey, hey, hey," I said holding up a hand while I walked over and firmly shut the door. It was unlike Riza to get worked up about anything. In fact, she was the person I counted on to always maintain her calm, cool demeanor. Seeing her like this unsettled me. "Chill out and tell me what happened."

  "Your little brother is going to fuck up everything, Dax," she said as she clenched her fists at her sides. "He took the damn boat out and tried to make a drug run from Tijuana to the Marina dock. But he's too fucking stupid to pull shit like that off. He got caught by the Coasties, and now he's in their jail waiting for a hearing."

  "So, he fucked up, that's small potatoes compared to what he could have done," I said secretly relieved to learn that Beck wasn't dead.

  "You really don't get it do you?" she asked searching my face for a sign that I understood what she was talking about. "You don't get that your brother is knowledgeable enough to sink our entire operation by opening his junkie mouth and singing to the Feds, do you?"

  "He's a junkie, who's gonna believe him?" I shrugged.

  "Jesus, you are blind as fuck when it comes to that boy," she spat. "I've got an inside informant over there at the Coast Guard and he said that Beck offered to give them all the information they wanted on his brother's club if they'd trade him a fix."

  "And they took the whacked out ramblings of a junkie as gospel truth?" I asked. "They're stupider than I thought."

  "Dax, stop cutting Beck slack," she said as she put her palms flat on the edge of my desk and looked straight into my eyes. "He's going to ruin all of our hard work and our future. He's in bed with the North side guys and they're using him to try and break you down."

  "So, what do you suggest I do, Riza?" I said as I looked at her. There was fury in my eyes because I had a feelin
g that I knew what she was going to say but I wanted to hear her say it before I said anything.

  "You know what I say," she shrugged. "When there's a weak link, you cut it loose and save the rest of the chain."

  "You're saying I should off my own brother," I said.

  "I'm just saying that you have to decide what's most important, the organization and its future or the junkie who is going to bring it all crashing down around our heads unless he's stopped," she said as she stood up and put her hands on her hips. "I'm just saying, you're gonna have to make a decision, Dax. Sooner or later, you're gonna have to choose."

  "Fine, when I get to that bridge, I'll cross it," I said in an irritated voice. I was tired of discussing this with her and it was obvious that we weren't going to agree on how to handle the situation. "Riza, for now, we're going to let Beck sit in jail. I'm going to find him a lawyer to be at his bail hearing and then we'll figure out what to do next, okay?"

  "You're so fucked," she said as she turned and stormed out of the room.

  A few minutes later, Kesha appeared at the door asking, "Is now a good time to talk, boss?"

  "Yeah, come on in, K," I said waving her in. "Let's talk about this inventory situation."

  "Boss, it's getting weirder by the day," she said shaking her head. "Yesterday, I found more crates that we hadn't ordered down in the storage area, and when I opened them they were full of product. But it's not our product."

  "How do you know?" I asked. "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely sure," she said. "Come downstairs and I'll show you."

  I followed Kesha to the basement storage area where we kept the liquor. We had a second storage area where we kept the product, as we called it. Kesha was right, there was something really off about this product. It definitely wasn't ours. The crates were poorly constructed and the product was stored in Ziplock bags, some of which were only half filled. This was a lazy, half-assed job done by hacks, but how had it wound up in our storage area?