The Billionaire's Assistant: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Box Set

by Sarah J. Brooks

  “Amen,” one of my workers said.

  “Saved my life. Saved my girl’s life. God bless him. But that’s not why we’re here. What happened today should NOT have happened. You well know that Bob Jackson, my brother, is not privy to the special information that we have. So seeing that an assassin was sent to a private room that only my own men knew of, to see my father …”

  I gave them the glower. “Which one of you sold me out?”

  “Wasn’t me, boss,” said one.

  “Damn sure wasn’t me,” said another.

  “Well, it was somebody. Somebody on the inside is trying to kill me. And as soon as I find out who that yellow-bellied salad tosser is, I’m going to take care of him. And if you know, my loyal men, know of anything … you share it with me first. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The boys didn’t seem to be shaken. They were with me one hundred percent, meaning the rat wasn’t one of them or one of them bastards was method acting like Clint Eastwood. Wouldn’t see him coming … may not ever catch him before it’s too late.

  Yeah well … there’s that and then there’s instinct. And my instinct told me who it was that betrayed me.

  You know the word “family” is used so heartlessly nowadays. Bob is family, my father is flesh, and my cousins are relations. But the men who share my workload, who suffer through blood, sweat, and tears for our company, they are just as much family as the rest. A lot of people talk about the blood oath of the Italians or the Irish up north. But there’s one fatal flaw in their operation. They trust each other’s ethnicity. They trust each other according to the color of their dicks. Not this family. Our family is made up of good old-fashioned Southerners by any other name.

  The big boys are in Biloxi, Mississippi, but we have branches in Alabama, and yours truly, the Lone Star State. Now it’s the opinion of some of the boys in Biloxi that Dixie is all about white people and white superiority. But that’s not the way I see things. The entire basis of our organization is that we are not related by blood or race but on our loyalty to each other—to the common good.

  We have blacks, Hispanics, white boys, Asians and Russians and Arabs all over the south contributing to our cause—namely the preservation of law, order, and justice. We protect the little people from big business, from the rich and corrupt. And all this social progress is largely because of the contributions of one Raymond Jackson. The only racist redneck in the south who would make a statement like “I want a Negro in charge because he’s got something to prove … you white boys are too fat and complacent!”

  We grew out of the Appalachian states, starting small by paying back favors in blood to corrupt politicians, rapists who beat the law, and gang members that had no honor and gunned down babies and mothers alike. We grew in number because we chose the rural side, where most law enforcement didn’t bother to visit because only rednecks and yokels lived that far out in the middle of nowhere.

  Before long, the cops were unable to track our movements, especially the newbies they sent to investigate us. All the best cops ended up in the city side, leaving old fatties like Sheriff Jarvis to stop on by and pretend like he was onto us. But that damned fool was so tired of life he practically gave me free reign to do as I pleased, so as long as we didn’t kill anybody who’s clean.

  But who’s going to miss a rapist, who’s going to shed a tear over some millionaire oil tycoon who mysteriously loses a car? Who’s going to snitch on a poor lost teen who just wants some pot or ecstasy to get a good night’s sleep?

  Our business isn’t illegal. Our business is what we call Vigilante Justice. We restore the balance of power to the people. We remove the shackles of a corrupt police state. And yes, naturally, we have been oppressed by the powers that be that stubbornly associate all protesting movements with racist anarchists. Which explains why I am forced to operate family business under the guise of Antique Restoration. But the way we see it, I AM restoring an old-fashioned society of law, order, and minding one’s own business – in spite of the oligarchy that suppresses the common man.

  Because the Jackson father and son have the most money of the operation in Texas, our hierarchy is informally recognized as top of the food chain. But with Dad being bedridden and on his last legs, a new generation is rising. And when that happens, all hell is sure to break loose. In the meantime, trust and honor among thieves is the only currency that matters.

  “What’s the one thing I ask from you, Jesse?” I said to a young guy who was shaking in his boots.

  “Thou shalt not snitch to the cops,” he said nervously. “I swear it wasn’t me!”

  “Oh, I know it’s not you, white bread. But I can tell you’re scared because you think since you’re the new guy, you’re going to be the first one I knock off just by timetables, right?”

  “Sir please, I-I-I-”

  “Hold on there, boy. Here’s the deal. I’m not going to hurt you. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are the last man to join us and so that puts you in the slot of prime suspect number one. So I’m appointing you project manager of this rat situation. I want your young, paranoid, angry youth working for me on my side. You interview every last one of these good men, and you determine for me who was the rat.”

  “Y-Yes, sir.”

  “You like solving mysteries, right Jesse?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, then I want you to be a regular Angela Lansbury sleuthing motherfucker, you understand me? Murder She Wrote that sumbitch and bring him to me alive. If you don’t get me answers, you inherit all that grief, understood?”

  “I won’t let you down, sir. I’ll find out the leak. I bet my life on it.”

  “Good boy. Let all you boys know our policy. You snitch on us; you conspire against us, then the Ghost of Dixie, with all its evil, and all its racist slave-owners and blasphemers against Christ, it will rain vengeance upon you.”

  “Yes sir!” they all said in unison, red in their eyes, each one of them ready to beat the traitor six feet under. And at least one them shivering like a dog in secret, knowing his trail was warm, and he was about to be discovered. In fact, I saw that one of them clearly had guilt written all over his face. Just as I expected.

  I began counting mountains of cold hard and unmarked cash after a successful run in Athens, Texas. Just as I was finishing up processing the money, I felt an urge to call my sweetheart and discuss the more docile side of humanity.

  “How’s my angel tonight?”

  “Hey babe,” Alicia said merrily. “Still working?”

  “Yeah, got a big job coming up.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “Big old nineteen-seventy-two Chevy Impala. The guy who owns it is a real peach.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet. It must be nice to work a job where you can always give something back to the community.”

  “Damn straight it does,” I said as I nodded to the boys who were following Jesse outside for an intense interrogation. Jesse was all business, looking like a skinny little shark of a man and ready to whip those big old burly men into shape. Beat the honesty out of them, Jesse!

  “But I tell you one thing sugar-butt. It’s getting harder and harder to trust a man these days. In the old days, you know, you could always tell who a man is by the look in his eyes. Nowadays, everybody’s screwing everybody. Everybody’s looking out for number one.”

  “I know. It’s that way in real estate too!”

  “You don’t say!” I quickly put the phone on mute as I exited the warehouse and walked outside to see and hear Jesse getting pummeled like a pinata by the angry boys. Something beautiful about that ... about some undercover private investigator being beaten and kicked by a group of whites, blacks, Latinos, and an American-Indian all united under the Jackson family name. That’s what you call racial harmony.

  “It was him, boss,” said Beau. The men all quickly figured out that Jesse was the rat since he was so stupid he was revealing too much information abo
ut what he knew while “interrogating” my most loyal men. “He knew shit he shouldn’t have known, just like you figured.

  “Wait! Wait!” he pleaded, his sorry little face almost kicked into a bloody pulp.

  “You think I’m stupid, Jesse? Did you really think it would be that easy to crack the fine pillars of family unity that we follow under my daddy’s name? You’re the only man I told where I was going last night, short of Alicia and Bobby. And while it’s possible it was my own flesh and blood brother, or the sexy, jean-clad woman of my dreams that screwed me over … let’s be honest and just say we all know it was you.”

  I un-muted the phone and put my dear Alicia on hold. I gave Jesse a look of warning.

  “Just a moment, honey pie, I got to take this call. Now you wait on the line like a good girl, okay?”

  “Okay, boss,” she said with a flirty giggle.

  I smiled and put her on hold. I turned my war face to Jesse and stared him down, wondering if I should tear his heart out and eat it in front of him, the two-bit traitor. And to think we shared a love of moonshine. All fake, all fabricated friendship, that lying prick.

  “I’m sorry … please don’t kill me! I was paid! I was paid …”

  “By who?”

  “The Tailor Brothers!” he said fast and desperate, knowing he hadn’t one inch of hair to negotiate with me.

  “What the fuck do those incestuous dillholes want with my organization?”

  “Word is … Dixie East wants to combine with Central. They figure if you’re taken out of the picture … when Daddy Jackson dies … they have the most money … they can overpower the other bosses, you know, more leverage.”

  “You don’t say. That’s not a bad strategy. But sending a retard like you to do a snoop job is not the best reactionary move, is it?”

  “No, sir! I promise … I’m yours. I promise I’ll be faithful to your team only. Please don’t kill me!”

  “Well, that’s a good heapin’ helpin’ of beggar’s pie you’re serving there,” I said with a big grin. “The truth is, Jesse, I could kill you right now. I could have one of these boys, these faithful boys been working for me over ten years; I could have one of these guys bludgeon your head with a tire iron.”

  “No, no, no!”

  “But here’s what I’m thinking. Maybe I’ve already put the fear of God into you.”

  “Yeah, yeah!”

  “Maybe from now on, you’re going to be loyal to ME. You’ll tell me their secrets.”

  “I will!”

  “But wait a sec now,” I said in stress. “There’s not really any insurance policy that says you won’t stab me in the back again, now is there?”

  “I won’t!”

  “Oh wait … I got an idea,” I said with a wink. “Will you be a good sport and keep quiet while I make a phone call?”

  I smiled at Jesse, who was damn near close to pissing his pants. I flipped over to Alicia who was still waiting patiently on hold.

  “Hey, baby girl, how are you?”

  “Fiiiine. Bored. And horny.”

  “You don’t say? How horny are you?””

  I quickly put the phone on mute while Alicia mumbled sweet nothings in my ear. “Don’t none of you sons of bitches laugh at that!”

  The boys cackled and catcalled while I grinned like a clown. “She ain’t for sale, bubba! Eyes off the merchandise.”

  Poor Jesse was eying me like I was a coyote licking my lips ready to bite his face, and I damn well might have been. I winked at Jesse while I readied my finger.

  “Okay, baby, I got another call. You want to wait on the line, or you want me to call you back?”

  “I’ll wait, baby,” Alicia said. “I’ll wait all night for you.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  I put the phone on hold and loaded the texting program. By now, Marcus was in position and ready. I texted him, waited, and he texted me back as loyal as a dog, that rascal.

  “All right Jesse. I want you to take a look at this.”

  “FUCK!” Jesse screamed, noticing on my phone Marcus had just texted us a picture of his dear old grandmother Bessie, sound asleep in granny panties and a nightgown from the Al Capone era. His eyes went wild, and he started shaking like a Mexican jumping bean, realizing one of my boys had infiltrated his sacred home away from home.

  “Now here’s what I’m thinking, traitorous buddy. If I let you go tonight so you can play the rat for me … and you stab me in the back AGAIN? Well, I figure I’m just going to have to take your disloyalty out on Grandma. And Auntie Mildred. And cousin Jake. You know, your whole damned family.”

  “Shittttt,” he sobbed, pissing his pants, sending me backwards since I didn’t want the stench of a coward on my suit! “Don’t … don’t do that please!”

  “There’s the proof. We’re watching you. We’re always watching you. Because when you start whistling Dixie … you do it for life. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I-I-I promise I’ll report back to you. Just you …”

  “Go. Get out of here. You report back to those boys and give me some good secrets.”

  The boys eyed the traitor in contempt as he ran off like a scalded animal, thankful to be alive and so chivalrous to think of his granny first before his own selfish pleasures.

  “Dammit, David,” said Ralph, one of my biggest and most trusted go-to guys who was making his objections clear. Not that I run an autocracy … I’m opened to criticism and discussion, so as long as the boys respect the hierarchy. Because without a social order of things we are truly animals, aren’t we?

  “You got something to say or you just PMS-ing, boy?”

  “You’re too kind for your own good, David. You well know your old man would have killed that no-good snitch on the spot. I can’t believe you let him go.”

  “Well … maybe I am too kind, Ralph. But that’s why one remembers the true purpose of our family. To resist government oppression of the poverty-stricken and the needy. If we get just as strict and heartless as big government, what lick of good are we?”

  “From your lips to God’s ears. I just hope that kid doesn’t stab us in the back again.”

  “You let me worry about that. Don’t ever assume your old boss is as senile as his old man. Everything that happens in the real world happens first in my head.” I smiled and tapped my phone on my forehead. “You understand now?”

  “I trust you, buddy. It’s in God’s hands and yours, that’s how I figure it.”

  “Good way to look at it.”

  I dismissed my men and made sure I had complete privacy before making my final phone call for the night. I made sure Alicia was still on the other line and then speed-dialed out to my boss.

  “Yeah … it was Jesse,” I said quietly. What do you think? All right, keep you posted.” I hung up. Then it was time to switch over to Alicia and have some great phone sex right before I took the long road home.

  “Sorry for the wait. You all warmed up and horny for me, babe?”

  “All I do is wait for you, Mister Jackson,” she said in that sultry voice, like a siren, like an angel or a succubus that no red-blooded American could ever resist.

  “Oh baby, you’re imploding me from the inside. Tell me what you’re wearing,” I said, making sure the doors were sealed and windows were up … don’t want no perv outside stealing glimpses of my private romantic life. Alicia is a classy woman, and she knows she’s faithful to her man.

  “Tell me real slow. I want details. And I only want you to come…when I tell you to come. Understand?”

  “You’re sooo demanding, Dave.”

  “Some have said,” I said with a surreptitious giggle. “I do tend to get what I want, don’t I?”

  ***

  Chapter 7

  “Accounting Errors and Other Strange Observations”

  Her again. Call it Fate, or God himself taunting me, but everywhere I seemed to go as of late, Alicia Johnson is waiting for me. Always looking beautiful, always so temp
ting. Not with her smile but with her eyes. Maybe a woman like that can’t help it to look so alluring, so sensual.

  And why not? Among powerful men, that’s probably the Ace she needs to stay alive, gambling with card sharks.

  “Alicia,” I said with a firm nod. She was stuck in the waiting room of David’s office, looking around impatiently, probably being held hostage while David “takes care of business.” Poor kid. If only she knew what kind of business he was in.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said with a catty glance.

  “So much animosity,” I said with a quiet chortle. “Is that any way to talk to a man who saved your life?”

  “Well …you did that. So I guess we’re even then, huh?”

  “Even?”

  “YES,” she said with a head bob. “You called me a whore.”

  I laughed aloud, playing her game. “I don’t quite remember the conversation going like that … but if that’s the way I made you feel …” I smiled. “I apologize. It wasn’t my place to judge you or David’s relationship.”

  “That’s right,” she said, a little surprised I let her off the hook so easily. “And yes … I do … I do appreciate you saving my life, Robert.”

  “It’s just a man’s duty when in the line of fire. I’m sure David would have done the same.”

  “Yes … I know he would have.”

  Damn her eyes. I made contact with her for just a moment, and I lost my train of thought. Wearing a dark dress, looking positively gorgeous and her eyes, so familiar, so inviting. I did have to remind myself that Alicia was happily taken. And a gentleman never reaches into another man’s cookie jar … especially among his own kin. It’s the most disgraceful kind of shame.

  “Honestly, Bob,” she said, smiling with those puffy cheeks and giving me another distraction. “How did you learn to fight like that? Was it really … you know?”

  “What do I know?”

  “Well … I shouldn’t be gossiping. But Dave said you learned in Japan … or China. You know, somewhere East.”

  I chuckled at the thought.