Dirty Rich Secrets Part Three

by Lisa Renee Jones

Ashley’s hand comes down on mine, and I cut my stare to look at her. “Trust. I trust you. Trust me and trust them.”

  I stare at her, those beautiful plump pink lips, her high cheeks. Her piercing green eyes. I love this woman. I will not let her end up dead. I will not let my life destroy her life. I cut my stare and look at Blake. “There’s only one thing keeping me from going to that house and killing Mick and everyone there. He’s the traitor to his country. I am not going to run my entire life because he set me up, and he did. I have no doubt. I need proof that I don’t have.” I grimace. “Fuck it. I’m going to kill them all. Then they can’t kill Ashley. I need the address.”

  “You think you can kill them all alone?” Savage asks. “Really, man?”

  “I know I can,” I say. “Which you should consider the next time you piss me the fuck off, which is pretty much every time you open your damn mouth.”

  “I’m not giving you shit this time,” Savage says. “I’m making sure, you’re sure.”

  “You have no idea what I can do or have done.”

  Ashley catches my arm. “You’re not going alone, and you’re not going to just kill them all to protect me. I want our freedom. Our freedom, Aaron. That’s what we both want.”

  “You love her,” Smith says. “I hate you, man, but I see that. I see that you love her. So give her what she deserves. A real life. Not a life on the run because it’s clear to me that she’s going to run with you.”

  “Give me a few days,” Blake adds. “I’ll find the proof that you were set up.”

  “No,” I say. “He’ll get away, and I’m not letting that happen. I’ll make him confess.”

  “You killed his family,” Smith bites out. “And now you’re just going to make him confess? You think that’s how this works?”

  “I will forever regret the mistakes I made that killed his family, but that man is not a good man. He needs to die.”

  “That’s not the answer,” Smith counters. “You’re forgetting that he might be an asshole, but he’s an asshole who loved his family, or he wouldn’t have come at you for killing them. He’s not going to give up the information that saves you, even if he’s about to die for it.”

  “That’s wrong,” I say, at the same moment as Blake, which has my gaze colliding with his, my brow arching.

  “It’s about who bests who to him,” Blake says. “I get it. I’ve studied him in the past twenty-four hours. He didn’t care about his family. He cares about you winning and him losing.” He eyes Smith. “You’re a good man. Mick isn’t you.” He eyes Aaron. “Give me three days. If he moves even slightly, I’ll go with you and help you kill them all.”

  “I’m in,” Savage says. “I’ll kill those motherfuckers for you if you want.”

  “He doesn’t expect me now, tonight,” I counter. “Now is the time.” I eye Blake. “You know I’m right.”

  Blake leans forward. “I would if you didn’t have me. I’m that good. Give me the seventy-two hours.”

  “Twenty-four. No more. Tomorrow night Mick dies.” I catch Ashley’s hand. “Because if I don’t kill him, he kills her. And that’s not happening.”

  Blake grimaces. “Fine. Twenty-four hours. I’m good for the challenge.”

  Savage flips open a pizza box. “Let’s celebrate by eating this, mofos.”

  “Yes,” Ashley says. “Let’s eat.” She steps between me and the island, her hands settling on my chest. “And then let’s take our life back. Together.”

  She is brave and beautiful and the only thing left in my life that matters. I cup her head and kiss her before I say, “Together,” and it’s a promise. That’s how this ends. With us both alive and together.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ashley….

  Relief comes fast and hard after Aaron agrees to give Blake twenty-four hours to find the answers we need to end this, with us free from the charges against Aaron by the CIA. Not long later, we’re sitting around the island, all of us eating pizza, and I’m listening as Aaron debates different ways he was framed with Blake, Savage, and to my surprise, even Smith. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Aaron with other people in a casual setting, I realize. Not that you can call this casual. We’re debating when and how to kill Mick and his men, before Mick and his men kill us.

  What I realize, as we interact, is that Aaron doesn’t have this in his life. When he told me he was a loner, that he was alone, he meant it quite literally.

  “Have you ever met someone and just said, he has to die?” Savage asks the group. “Like that fucker is such a little bitch he has to die.”

  Aaron tilts back a beer. “That’s why guys like me exist.”

  “To kill people, assholes like the ones Savage gets irritated at?” Smith challenges.

  “Smith,” I warn, and quickly grab Aaron’s hand, silently pleading for him to let this go.

  “Now who’s being a little bitch?” Savage accuses. “Smith the bitch.”

  “Savage,” Blake warns. “Don’t—”

  “Right,” Smith says. “I’m the little bitch. You going to kill me, Aaron?” Smith draws his weapon and points it at Aaron.”

  “Smith!” I scream, pushing off the stool, but before I can move toward Smith to shut this down, Aaron’s on his feet, and he’s shoving me behind him, stepping toward Smith.

  “Aaron,” I call out, certain he’s going to draw his weapon, too, but Savage grabs me and pulls me around and away from the standoff. I’m then firmly handed off to Blake like I’m some sort of stuffed animal being used for a game of hot potato. “Let me go,” I say, shoving at Blake’s chest. “Let me go.”

  “Easy, sweetheart,” he says, his voice tight, commanding. “I need you to trust me and step back. Let me handle this.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Smith,” Aaron says, and his voice is so damn low and tight, lethal to the point that I twist in Blake’s arms, and he lets me. We both turn to face the rest of the table, and I, for one, can feel the thunder of anger beating at the room.

  Aaron is standing in front of Smith, and Savage is now facing them both, but he isn’t moving. And it’s easy to see why. Smith’s gun is shoved at Aaron’s chest, but it’s clear that Aaron is the one who walked up on him. He’s daring him to shoot him. Savage is hovering in their profile. The air pops and cracks with hyped-up energy.

  Blake steps to my side. “Smith,” he warns, his voice low, tight. “Don’t do something stupid, man. This isn’t you. This isn’t even close to you.”

  “I hate this bastard,” Smith says. “He’s not what he pretends to be.”

  “Then hate him,” Savage says. “But not like this. Bitches gotta brawl. Drop the gun, Smith. You want a piece of Aaron, do it without the gun. You got a better chance.”

  “You do get that I have the fucking gun, right, Savage?”

  “He knows I can take it,” Aaron says, and then I yelp as he does. Aaron takes the damn gun and hands it to Savage and then pins Smith in a stare. “I didn’t kill you because I don’t kill misplaced assholes like yourself. I kill monsters and scum.”

  He made taking Smith’s gun look easy. He made Smith look bad. I feel for Smith, but God, why did he have to pull his gun? I know he’s worried about me. I need to talk to him. I need to make him see that I’m okay. I need to thank him for worrying. But I need him to stop coming at Aaron, too. I hold my breath for what comes next, for how Smith will respond to this. Beside me, Blake leans on the island, toward the exchange, his body in confrontation mode, his gaze colliding with Savage’s, a silent exchange between them as Smith keeps pushing, his eyes locked on Aaron. “I could have shot you,” he says. “You know that, right?”

  “But you didn’t,” Aaron says. “You blinked, and you blinked because you’re not the guy who kills people just because they pissed you off. What you can’t seem to understand is that I’m not either or you’d already be dead. I kill scum. I kill people who need to die.”

  “You don’t get to make that judgment,” Smith snaps. “You aren
’t God.”

  “Your problem with me isn’t just about Ashley then. You don’t like my career choice.”

  “You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies,” he repeats.

  “Tell that to the CIA who sent me to kill every one of the people I killed,” Aaron says. “Tell that to the innocent people who every scumbag I killed hurt.”

  “How many?” Smith demands.

  “It doesn’t matter how many,” I shout out, my heart racing all over again. “Don’t answer, Aaron. It doesn’t matter.”

  Aaron never looks away from Smith. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he says. “You want her to see me as one of the monsters I kill. She’s right. The number doesn’t matter. I killed Mick’s family. They weren’t scum. I proved that I’m human and capable of mistakes. I hope for your sake, man, you never live that kind of mistake, because you’ll learn what I learned. It haunts you. And I also hope that you don’t have someone like you telling your woman you’re a monster when she’s the only one keeping you sane.” His voice lowers, but somehow, it’s harder, darker. Sharper. “We don’t have a problem over the gun and this bullshit you just pulled, but she’s not for you. You forget that, and we have a problem.” He turns away and faces Blake. “Where are we right now?”

  “In the respect zone,” Blake says. “And that’s not an easy place to get with me.”

  Aaron gives a nod and looks at me. “More pizza?”

  “No,” I whisper. “I think I’m done with pizza, and for the record, men and their cock fights. I’m really done with men and their cock fights.”

  Savage gives me a wink. “Boys will be boys, babe. You just have to go with the flow.”

  Aaron closes the space between me and him and offers me his hand. It’s a question. Am I with him?

  I don’t even hesitate. I feel this man’s pain, and he does feel pain. Smith doesn’t see that. Most people won’t see that but I do. I see him, the real him. The man who gave up everything to take down a cartel leader. A man who became what he is today because of that one sacrifice that became a lifetime of sacrifice and service. I believe in who and what he is, and why he does what he does. He’s right. Smith isn’t for me. Smith doesn’t understand. Smith is perhaps better than me and Aaron together, because I can do what Aaron can do: justify why his existence, his skills are necessary. Smith and I are not alike, but Aaron and I are, which may or may not be good, but it feels right. We feel right. This man is a part of me, and I no longer have to live without him. My hands settle on his palm and his eyes narrow, going from warm to hot instantly. They promise passion. They promise intensity. They promise forever. But what he says is simple. “Let’s go get that shower and some rest.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Let’s do those things.”

  We start walking, and Smith calls out, “If you hurt her, next time, I won’t let you take the gun. I’ll shoot you.”

  Aaron halts, and I want to tug him forward, but it’s too late. He turns and eyes Smith. “If I hurt her, I’ll let you shoot me.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ashley…

  The minute we’re back in our room, Aaron pulls me around, his hand settling on my neck, under my hair. “That game he’s playing is getting old. I’m losing patience.”

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “The last fucking thing I want is for you to talk to that man.”

  “I’m the one he needs to hear it from. I’ll handle him.”

  “He might be the better man, but I won’t apologize for taking you from him or for claiming you.”

  “You didn’t take me from him. I was never his. You know that. I was yours the minute I met you.”

  “He’s the better man. The life he can give you—”

  “I’m not like him. I’m like you. I like that gun you put in my hand. I like the high of this life, even when it scares me. And you know it or you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

  I think he’ll argue, that he’ll deny what I’ve said, but he surprises me by saying, “I do know.” And just that fast, his mouth is on mine and we’re kissing, touching, fucking. When we’re finally naked, it’s with his gun on the bed next to us, and it turns me on. I’m done denying that fact. The dark, dangerous side of Aaron turns me on.

  “He doesn’t see it,” he says, much later, when we stand under the hot spray of a shower together. “He doesn’t see what I see in you.”

  I don’t ask who “he” is. He means Smith. “I was a secretary he was protecting, not a—whatever I am now.”

  He cups my face and looks at me. “A badass. You’re a badass.”

  I laugh. “You’re the badass.” I smile. “But maybe I’m a badass in training.”

  We laugh, and it’s one of those moments I missed with him: the way we laugh together. The way we get each other. The way we can crawl into an experience together and just get lost there. I want to get lost with this man for the rest of my life. I just want us to do it willingly, not because we have to. I want the risks we take together, and apart, to be choices, not a forced response to a machine trying to run us over.

  When we finally lay down in bed, with him on his back and me curled to his side, darkness engulfs us, but we don’t sleep. I can almost feel the ticking of a bomb about to explode. Tomorrow is not going to be just another day. I feel it, and I believe Aaron does, too. Tomorrow is either the end or the beginning of the rest of our lives.

  ***

  I wake to sunshine trying to burn my eyeballs from my head and to an empty bed. Aaron is missing, and that’s enough to set my heart racing and have me scooting to the edge of the bed. My gaze lands on the nightstand where there rests a slender Ruger and a note. I grab the note: I’m downstairs, baby, but shoot Smith on sight. I laugh and stand up, realizing then that I’m naked. Aaron’s shirt is on the floor, so I grab it, pull it on and hurry to the door. Peeking outside, I find the hall empty, and I step outside to the railing. I immediately spy Aaron sitting at the island with Savage, Blake and another man I don’t know, all deep in some sort of easy debate. There’s no tension, and I can feel the way Aaron has relaxed into the relationship with Walker Security. From last night to now is night and day. This pleases me and not just because we need help. I don’t think Aaron has many people in his life he can call a friend, and I sense that underneath all this bristling, he and Savage could be friends. Even more so, he and Blake could be friends. I want this for Aaron. I want him to feel that he’s not an outsider to the rest of the world. He’s not alone.

  I re-enter the bedroom and snag up my clothes, wishing for something fresh to put on, and then it hits me that Aaron had on black jeans and a black tee that are not the same clothes he had on last night. Obviously, someone lent him clothes. I walk into the bathroom, and there sits a pile of clothes for me. I grab the note on top that reads: From Blake’s wife. Pleased, I look through my options and the best bet for a fit seems to be a black jean skirt and a black lace blouse. There are matching black sneakers that, after a quick inspection, happen to be my size. There’s even a flat iron and makeup.

  Eager to dress, I quickly shower, dress, and apply said makeup. Once my hair is dried and flat ironed, I’m feeling fresh and more like myself. There’s a small purse in the stack of items, just the right size for a gun, which I don’t believe to be an accident. I walk into the bedroom, check the ammunition in the Ruger, and then load it in my new purse. I exit the bedroom and find the men still in the same spots, still debating whatever they’re debating, but now, they all have coffee cups. I decide not to bother them. I have a mission anyway. I walk to the shooting range.

  Once there, I open the door and enter. I do a scan, put on a pair of safety glasses, grab a stock of ammunition, and head into an actual safety booth that Savage has here in the apartment. Once I’m there, sealed inside, I do what I know I can do. I unload my gun, and I do it with accuracy and skill. I do so because Aaron made me practice. I do so because I wanted to practice. I do so because the gun feels right in my hand. I re
load, and I repeat. I reload, and I repeat until I feel, rather than hear, someone behind me. It’s not Aaron. I know this, too. I pull off my safety glasses and turn to find Smith standing outside the booth. He’s a good-looking man, tall, well-built, sandy brown hair, defined cheekbones, easy on the eyes in all ways. I’d thought, at one point, he might be for me. Or I’d wanted to believe that, but I’d never really believed that at all.

  I exit the booth and join him on the other side. “You’re good,” he says. “He taught you?”

  “Yes. He taught me. I told you that.”

  “And you want to live a life where you need those skills?”

  “If I were with you, Smith, would you want me to know how to protect myself?”

  His lips thin. “Yes.”

  “Could your job put me in danger?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “There is no but. Please. Accept him. And honestly, Aaron needs friends. He has none. He was betrayed by the only people he trusted. He gave up his life to take down a kingpin. Who does that? That’s how he got here. That’s how he became this.”

  “You really believe in him?”

  “I do, and I’m a good judge of character. I chose you as a friend, remember?”

  The door opens behind him, and Aaron walks in. Smith’s expression tightens, and I

  know he knows it’s him. He inhales and gives me a tiny nod before he turns to face Aaron. And then to my surprise, he offers him his hand. “Truce.”

  Aaron looks at me and then him. “She’s not—”

  “She’s my friend,” Smith says. “And perhaps you can be, too. Truce,” he repeats.

  Aaron studies him, hard and long, and then offers Smith his hand. “Truce,” he says. “But if you—”

  “Forget my place, you’ll beat my ass,” Smith says. “Got it. And if you hurt her—”

  “You’ll shoot me. Got it.”

  And then to my surprise, we all laugh. It feels like a sign. We’re going to be okay. We’re going to get to the other side of this war to peace. I’m not, however, unrealistic. Someone, probably a lot of someone’s, will have to die before that happens.