Billionaire's Fake Fiancee

by Eva Luxe

  Slowly, my heart calms down. My entire body is tingling. Ty’s strong arm feels so good lying across my back. I can tell by his breathing that he’s asleep, and it’s not long before I am too.

  Chapter 16 – Tyler

  My head is spinning the entire car ride to Motorcycle Mike’s dive apartment on the other end of town.

  Mind blowing. That’s the only way I can describe last night. I haven’t touched a woman in so long I almost forgot what it was like. I’d broken my vow—the vow to never let a woman into my heart. But when I’m around Jenny, there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Who would have thought the most meaningful, emotionally connective sex I would have in years would be with a stripper? If I told someone, they would probably just laugh, but that’s what happens when you make assumptions about people. I made them about her, and no doubt she made them about me. I’m sure she thought I was a total dick, and I probably was too.

  Last night was more than just sex—although the sex was unbelievable. We’ve both taken a step in a direction we never expected, and I feel like I’ve started something with her. I can’t even believe I’m thinking this. I’m probably being stupid. Either way, I need to get focused. We have a job to do.

  “This is it,” Barry announces, pulling up at a tenement building that looks like a strong breeze would blow it over. It’s been painted so many times it looks like it’s covered in rotted frosting. It’s a sickly lime green color now. The porch is basically rotted out, and someone’s replaced the front steps with a torn up blue milk crate. There are no real curtains, and the first floor windows look as though they’ve been covered up with old t-shirts that have been ripped to make them longer.

  “Nice place,” I say sarcastically. “Heating included?”

  “Ebola included,” Moore scoffs, lighting another cigarette.

  “Those things cause cancer you know,” I advise him.

  “That’s included too.”

  I push my door open and step out of the car into the smell of trash, gasoline and weed. Upon closer inspection, I realize the front lawn is actually stained Astroturf. Some smashed up children’s toys are scattered about. No one says much as we make our way up to the door. Barry knocks loudly three times.

  Nothing.

  “Yo, Mike!” he shouts, banging again, harder this time. The door rattles like it might fall off its hinges. I shoot Moore a look of annoyance and concern.

  “Reliable guy, huh?”

  Moore just shrugs. Barry pounds on the door, “Mike!”

  And not much of a surprise—the latch pops and the door swings open to reveal a filthy living room, almost completely in shadow. Barry marches right in. I hesitate a minute, eying the stained and fraying carpet, then follow.

  “Fucking bum,” Barry says, tearing down the t-shirts that have been tacked up over the windows. Sunlight spills into the room, illuminating the full reality of the mess. Cans of cigarette butts are strewn about and old pizza boxes litter the floor. The couch looks like it spent some time outside under an overpass, and the T.V., from about nineteen eighty-five, is propped up and leaning on some old cardboard boxes.

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “This guy is coming in with us?”

  “We’re getting him cheap,” Barry reminds me. “You can see why.”

  “Yeah, well you get what you pay for.”

  “He’s reliable,” Barry replies. “Just not much for cleanliness.”

  Barry moves past us into a shadowy hall, tearing down any “curtains” as he goes. I step over something that was probably once a ham sandwich. The smell in here is almost unbearable, and I have to breath through my mouth to keep from getting nauseous. We reach a door at the end of the hall and Barry pushes it open.

  “Jesus Buttfucking Christ,” Moore exclaims.

  On the floor before us is a mattress. No bedsprings, no frame, just a mattress, and on it are two naked, sleeping bodies. One is a heavily tattooed girl with an absolutely smokin’ ass, and the other, I must assume, is Motorcycle Mike.

  Barry chuckles and shakes his head, bends right down and brings his lips to Motorcycle Mike’s ear.

  “Wake up!” he shouts. Mike rockets up, spins around and elbows the sleeping girl right in the cheek.

  “Ow!” she shouts, bringing a hand to her face. “What the fuck!?”

  She rolls over and looks at us, not even attempting to cover up her naked body.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  I can hear Moore stifling a laugh beside me.

  “Mike, what the fuck?” Barry says, ignoring the girl. “Are you drunk? High?”

  “Nah, man,” Mike says, revealing a thick Southern drawl. “I was sleeping, what the …. oh hey, Moore.”

  “Hey, Mike.”

  “Who’s this guy?” he says, pointing to me.

  “Ty, Mike. Mike, Ty. He’s our third.”

  “Delighted to meetcha,” he says with a nod. “What are y’all doin’ here?”

  “The job, Mike,” Barry says.

  “Shit. That’s today?”

  “That’s today,” Barry grumbles, shaking his head.

  “Sheeeeit,” Mike says, rubbing his palm over his eyes.

  I’m two seconds from backing out as I look down at the mess in front of me. The girl is pretty hot, and I’m wondering how the hell Mike managed to pull her, let alone get her to sleep in this slum. This is our getaway driver? It’s bad enough I haven’t met him before. I don’t like working with people I don’t know. And this isn’t a great first impression.

  “All right, what time?” Mike asks, like he’s trying to make sure he’s not late for dinner.

  “Soon as you get your ass up,” Moore says angrily.

  “All right, all right, all right,” Mike chuckles, standing. It’s then I realize he’s not wearing anything either.

  “Jesus, Mike!” Barry shouts, turning away.

  “Wassa matter? You boys never seen a pecker before?” He grins like a skull but reaches for a pair of plaid boxers on the floor.

  “They’re just jealous,” the girl chimes in, still lying naked on the bed.

  That explains it, I think. He’s hung like a horse and she’s a size queen.

  “Let’s get it movin’, Mike,” Barry says. “You want some coffee or something?”

  “Yeah, that’d be nice. Got an espresso machine in the kitchen—”

  “We’re not going in your fucking kitchen, Mike,” Moore growls. “Get your ass in some jeans and we’ll get something on the road.”

  “Mike is chugging what’s left of his double espresso as we pull in the lot across the street from the pawn shop.”

  Lou’s Pawn, the sign reads in bright neon in the window above a shiny set of Samurai swords and Nunchucks.

  “This is it, huh?” I say, running my hand over the handle of my Glock Twenty-Two. It’s just for intimidation factor. I’m not shooting anybody. I haven’t killed anyone since the war, and I don’t plan on starting now. It’s not anything someone should have to do.

  “Yup,” Barry says, cocking his pistol. “Here’s how it’s gonna go down. Me and Moore go in and hold up the two in the window. We gotta be quick so they can’t hit the security window. That thing slides up and we’re screwed. Ty, you come in while we hold them down and go straight to the back and get the cash. Toss it in the bag and we’re outta there. Mike, you just be ready to roll.”

  “I’m always ready to roll,” Mike grins.

  “Right, let’s do this,” Moore says, sliding into his ski mask. Barry and I put ours on as well. I cock my gun and step out of the car.

  Guns held down, we march across the street towards the shop. It looks like no one’s inside, which is good. We don’t want any innocent bystanders or witnesses. Barry grabs the door and tears it open. Moore rushes in behind him.

  “Get down!” I hear him shout. “Don’t you fucking touch that button! I’ll blow your head off!”

  I don’t hear anything indicating an alarm or anything, so they must h
ave got the drop on them.

  “Right! Hands in the sky! Get in here!”

  He must be shouting to me. I raise my gun, tear the door open and rush inside. Two men stand behind the counter, hands raised, not looking the least bit afraid.

  Fuck, I think, recognizing the man on the left. Covered in horrible tattoos, with a long thick black beard and countless piercings, is the man known as The Lumberjack. He’s one of Nicky’s men.

  So that’s the owner we’re stealing from. It’s Nicky.

  These idiots. Do they have any idea what will happen if they figure out who we are?

  “Get the cash!” Moore shouts to me. There’s no more time to think. Just have to get the job done. There’s only one other door in the room, so it must be the one. I race over to it and kick it open.

  A bullet tears a hole in the wall behind me. I instantly drop to the floor and roll behind a stack of boxes. Another shot rings out and rips through the box by my head. I peer out quickly and see a man huddled in the back with a revolver aimed right in my direction. He blasts again and I slide back farther to get better cover.

  “The fuck’s going on back there!?” I hear Barry shout from out front.

  “There’s a guy back here with a fucking gun!” I scream back. I could take him out easily, but that’s not the point. I didn’t come here to kill anyone. I didn’t want to be here to begin with. Visions of the war start flooding back to me, and I can feel my heart start to race. The thing about me, the thing that made me a great soldier, is that no matter how hectic shit gets, no matter how much adrenaline courses through my body, no matter how fast my heart races, my hands are always steady. I could swing out from behind this cover and put one right between this guy’s eyes. But I’m not going to.

  “Fuck this,” I mutter to myself as the man takes another shot at me. That’s two he’s got left. If I can get him to shoot those I can rush him while he’s reloading.

  Here goes nothing.

  I dive across the tiny hall into the bathroom. He fires one shot and misses, blasting another hole in the wall.

  One left.

  I peek out and can see him slumped on the floor, gun in his hand, propped between his legs. I slide my gun out around the corner and fire a shot just past his head, and as I suspected, he panics and fires.

  He’s out.

  I hear his gun click as he goes to reload, and I make my dash, leaping out of the bathroom and charging down the hall. I can see his eyes go wide as I slam into him and almost put him through the wall.

  “Ah, fuck!” I scream, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my right hand. I look down to see a nail poking straight through the back side of my hand and out my palm. Someone nailed a sign to the wall and I just slammed right into it.

  The man slumps down at my feet, out cold.

  “You all right back there?” Barry shouts from the front room. “Let’s go!”

  Let’s go, I scoff. I just got a fucking nail through my hand and he’s standing up there just waiting. I look around. Where is the money?

  The back room looks like Nicky’s running a small grocers supply instead of a pawn shop. Boxes of lobster and oysters are stacked beside packs of truffles and caviar. Probably for his house and personal chef. But there’s no signs of money. No safe, no vault, no stacks of cash. Nothing.

  “There’s nothing here!” I shout.

  “What!?” Moore yells back. “Look harder!”

  “I looked, asshole! There’s nothing here!”

  I hear some heated conversation from the front room as they interrogate Nicky’s men. I look down at my hand, at the man slumped down at my feet. This is just going from bad to worse. I rush back into the front room to find Barry with his gun pressed against the Lumberjack’s temple.

  “Where’s the fucking money!?” he screams.

  “I told you,” the Lumberjack replies, perfectly composed. “There were no bets today. There’s no money. Nothing.”

  “You lying sack of shit!”

  “Believe what you want,” he replies calmly. Obviously this man is no stranger to guns. “But you can search the whole place if you want. I promise you there’s nothing here.”

  “Fuck!” Barry screams, shouting and throwing his hands to his sides.

  “Come on, Barry,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Barry turns to me, and I can see the defeat on his face. He must be really hurting for cash. Moore looks like he’s ready to shoot these two right here.

  “Yeah, get the fuck out of here,” the other man says.

  “What’d you say?” Moore says, stepping closer.

  “Relax,” I tell him, but Moore’s hot head has taken over.

  “The fuck did you say?” Moore brings the gun right to the man’s face, and then it happens.

  The man ducks and swings, knocking the gun out of Moore’s hand. It goes off. Barry screams as the bullet impacts his thigh.

  The other man draws a gun and fires.

  Moore goes down as the shot hits him right in the head. He’s dead before he even hits the ground.

  “Moore!” I scream, rushing to his side. Barry unloads at the other men. Moore’s lifeless eyes look up at me.

  “Fuck!” I scream, turning back to the mayhem. The Lumberjack leaps over the counter and catches Barry in the head with a kick, sending him sprawling. I charge him, hitting him in the ribs and driving him back against the wall. He’s strong, and brings an elbow down on my back. I bring my head up and catch him under the chin. His arms flail wildly, grabbing at me, trying to get ahold somehow. I pull back, but during the struggle, he tears my mask off.

  I kick hard and fall back to the floor. When I look up, I see the look of realization on his face.

  “Ty!” he shouts.

  Fuck! I am so fucked.

  A gun goes off behind me and I turn to see Nicky’s other man laid out on the ground beside Moore with Barry standing over him. He swings his sights to my opponent.

  “Back off,” he orders. “Get up, Ty.”

  I scramble to my feet, my hand bloody and throbbing.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Compared to Moore I am.

  “You son of a bitch,” Barry says, stepping closer to the Lumberjack who is sweating and breathing heavily from the floor. “That’s my friend you just killed.”

  “You boys should have known who you were fucking with,” he replies, still not afraid. My mind is racing, trying to think how I’m going to get out of this. If we let him go he’s going to tell Nicky I was involved in this, and Nicky’s going to kill me. He has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to people stealing from him. The last guy who skimmed off the top had his hands cut off before Nicky threw him off a bridge. The cops found him two days later clogging up a storm drain in Eastport.

  “I should blow your fucking brains out,” Barry says, cocking back the hammer on his gun. The Lumberjack simply stares up at him, his ice cold eyes taunting him, daring him to do it.

  “Don’t,” I say softly. “Barry, don’t do it.”

  Barry’s hand is shaking. As much as it would solve my problems if he squeezed the trigger, I just can’t stand to see any more death. I should have never come on this job. I should have told the boys no, but I owed them. And now look what happened.

  “You’re dead,” the Lumberjack tells me from the floor. He knows I’m not going to kill him. I should. I have every reason in the world to, but I have my own reasons why I won’t.

  “We’ll see,” I reply before turning and walking out of the shop.

  Chapter 17 – Jenny

  I can’t believe I fell for it.

  I wake up in my bed alone.

  I should have known better. This is why I don’t see men from the club. This is why I don’t bring men back to my apartment, and this is why I don’t let my kids meet men I’m seeing. Not that I’m seeing Ty anymore—not like I ever was. I gave myself to him last night, and even though it was the most amazing sex of my life, he us
ed me.

  He used me up and tossed me aside. I’ve never been so played before. He had me convinced that he wasn’t just another asshole. I really thought he was different. I should have listened to my life experiences. And I’d broken my rule: you don’t date guys you meet at the club.

  Kristen is going to give me so much shit.

  I leap out of bed and hop in the shower, not even bothering to turn the water on hot. I’m so pissed off that I need the cold water to cool me down. Part of me wants to punish myself for being so stupid. How am I going to explain this to Josh and Ella?

  I focus, trying to calm myself down. This isn’t the end of the world. It’s just trouble with another man. I’ve been through this before. I’ll tell them I was just doing him a favor and nothing more. They won’t be seeing him again. They’ll forget about him, and faster than I will.

  The feel of his hands around my waist … I can’t shake it. I fell asleep so happy, so content, one big mess of happy post-orgasmic bliss, his big strong arms wrapped around me.

  Stop thinking about him!

  I want to scream, but I just clench my fists and pound them against the tiles of the shower. Was I really picturing a future with him? I mean, what did I expect? He obviously has issues too. What was all that business when we drove through town? I tell myself I don’t want to know. I tell myself he’s probably just an overly dramatic asshole—but I don’t believe it.

  I shut the water off and stand there a minute, letting my body drip dry. Finally, I pull my towel from the hook and wrap it around my body, lazily drying my hair. When I get to the kitchen I see Ella at the table, on her phone, stuffing her face with a bagel and cream cheese.

  “Where’s the dude?” she says. My heart sinks.

  “He had to go,” I say. “He was just staying for one night. I owed a friend a favor.”

  “Oh. Okay,” she shrugs. Well that was easier than I thought. We’ll see how Josh takes it. I head to my room and throw on some clothes. The bed’s a mess, and I can still see the impression from Ty’s body on the mattress. Images of last night come flooding back, but I take a deep breath and push them from my mind.