by T. S. Ryder
Ana slid down next to Joseph, squeezing his hand. "I'm already back working with him. Just not as much. But Seth has me doing a bunch of research to use in his arguments against the Shifter Registry. We're hopeful that it's not going to pass. A lot of shifter rights groups have gotten more vocal since the news about Crystal broke. She was adopted by anti-shifter parents and when her husband found out she was a shifter, he accused her of raping him. The poor girl never had a chance."
"Hopefully, it works out in our favor," Joseph agreed. It would be all too easy for anti-shifter groups to point to Crystal and claim that she was proof that they needed a shifter registry, but thankfully Seth had seized it right away and was turning it into a cry for shifter rights. "Using her tragedy as a way to better inform the public was a stroke of genius."
"That’s Seth," Ana replied proudly. "He's a master at this sort of thing."
Joseph glanced at her. His mate. His heart swelled with a happiness he never thought he would ever experience. Maybe he was turning into one of those gooey-eyed men who lived for his mate, but he wouldn't trade it for the bland life he had led before. Ana was everything he could ever want.
"And what about you?" Ana's father looked at Joseph. "When are you going back to work?"
"As soon as this knee's fixed up." Joseph tapped the offending joint. "Cap is pairing me with a new recruit. I'm… hopeful we'll get along."
The new guy reminded him of Buck. He had a lot to learn, though.
"I don't like your line of work." Ana's mother frowned. "I don't know how your poor mother sleeps at night, knowing that you are getting shot at every day."
Joseph laughed. "I rarely get shot at, Mrs. Medina. In fact, most of a detective's work is done behind a desk. The movies make it look a lot more glamorous than it actually is."
"Well, you'll have to tell your parents to come over someday soon, anyway," Ana's mother said. "I'd love to meet them. I know this wonderful lawyer that might be able to help your mother get her medical license back."
Joseph inclined his head towards her. "That would be great. I'm sure they'll love to meet you. But right now, I think we had better get home. This knee needs some rest."
"Of course."
They said their goodbyes, including more hugs than Joseph was entirely comfortable with. Soon, however, they were on their way, Ana driving while he stretched out his leg. She kept giving him glances and smiles that had his heart beating faster.
"Ana, I love you," he blurted.
"I know. I love you, too. But I know what you're up to."
Joseph rose a brow.
She parked the car outside the house and gave him a long, slow kiss. What she meant was all too clear, and Joseph grinned. He had to resist the urge to carry her inside–his knee couldn't take it. Ana broke the kiss and slipped away, her eyes twinkling.
"Come and get me, my wild Bear," she whispered and disappeared into the house.
Joseph grinned and followed his mate.
*****
THE END
The Billionaire Gorilla's Baby
Description
A curvy thief caught red-handed PLUS a hot billionaire who wants to make a deal PLUS a dangerous secret and an attack
Scarlett Brenan does not steal. She's an acquisitionist. Stealing would imply she was taking things that could not be replaced, and that sort of behavior would be extremely ungentlewomanly.
Yes, some still would call it stealing and she does have the moniker of the 'Gentlewoman Thief' in the newspapers, but she would never take anything from someone who didn't already have far more than they needed. Besides, she makes a point of redistributing her acquired wealth, so really she is in charitable work.
Only one person, her mentor, knows of Scarlett's humanitarian efforts… until she is caught by billionaire Maximillian Barnes in his safe.
Scarlett is certain her career is over until the handsome billionaire makes a deal with her. If she'll pretend to be his mysterious fiancée for one year, he'll give her whatever it is she wants and introduce her to his grossly rich friends for her future endeavors.
But what starts as simple play-acting becomes far too real far too quickly… and Scarlett discovers a secret Max has been hiding for years that might just ruin the game.
To make matters worse, somebody else out there knows Scarlett's identity, and that someone wants her dead.
Chapter One
Sounds of piano music and laughter wafted up the grand marble staircase to the fifth room on the right. Inside this particular room, a light breeze blew lace curtains in lazy circles while moonlight drifted through the window, shining directly into the room-sized wall safe. Jeweled necklaces, cufflinks and other trinkets sparkled in the wan light.
Scarlett fixed a silver tiara on her head, admiring the way the pale metal contrasted with her dark hair. It was something she would very much like to take with her. She smiled as she imagined herself in a fancy dress wearing the tiara, like a princess out of a fairy-tale movie. Her fingers ran across necklaces and glittering, delicate rings left on the safe shelves.
Why would a man like Maximillian Barnes have so much women's jewelry? He hadn't been seen photographed with a woman other than his elderly housekeeper in nearly five years, since the tragic death of his parents. Although he claimed to have a fiancée somewhere, the lack of evidence provided by the media indicated that this fiancée was just a fabrication.
Which could only mean that the necklaces and tiaras must have belonged to his mother.
With a sigh, Scarlett set the tiara back on its stand, running her gloved hand over the large center ruby one last time. It was truly a work of art. No, she would leave the tiara. Even though she was certain it was insured for at least its monetary worth, if it belonged to Barnes' mother it would hold sentimental value, and she did not help herself to things that could not be replaced. If she took it, she'd have to destroy it if she meant to sell it, anyway.
What she would take, however, were the stacks of bearer bonds in the safe. There had to be two million dollars' worth there, carelessly stuffed into the corner of the safe. They were hardly sentimental. Given that Barnes pulled in an estimated five billion annually, he wouldn't even miss this two million. He'd have gotten it back by the end of the week. Plenty of people out there deserved it more.
Somebody new took over the piano downstairs, and Scarlett wrinkled her nose at the change of song. They were playing a 'modern' version of Mozart's Piano Sonata Number 3.
Dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. In her opinion, the classics ought to remain classics. This player was destroying all the complexity of the score, simplifying it for the repetitious strain of current pop music. It was enough to drive a gentlewoman to distraction.
And distracted she was.
She didn't hear the approaching footfalls on the carpet in the corridor outside, didn't see the hulking shadow lurking in the door. But he saw her.
When the light flicked on and she turned to see Maximillian Barnes standing in the doorway with a surprised expression on his face, Scarlett was not afraid of being caught. Rather, she was upset with herself. If she was allowing her patrons to walk in on her while she worked, well, she was becoming too cocky. Arrogance was not attractive in a gentlewoman.
And it certainly didn't help her current situation.
"Whoever is butchering Mozart down there ought to be shot," she told the billionaire, emphasizing her southern drawl as she slid her bag, packed with her tools and acquisitions, onto her back. When people heard her accent, they generally thought she was stupid. And when people thought she was stupid, it was easier to get away with things. She kept her tone light and conversational. "I simply can't stay any longer and listen to that travesty. Goodnight to you, sir."
With a smile and a wave, Scarlett darted to the window. She was fast–faster than she looked. Because her figure showed just how much she enjoyed cupcakes and hamburgers, people assumed that she was heavy-footed, slow and clumsy, the stereotypical 'fat girl' who couldn't
possibly do things like scale a two-floor wall or leap between houses. They assumed wrong, though, and that usually worked to her advantage.
Not this time. Barnes, too, was faster than he looked, and just as Scarlet reached the window, his arms wrapped around her waist.
He was stronger than she realized as well–Scarlett's eyes widened as he lifted her bodily from the ground, twirling her away from the window. A hand the size of a dinner plate slapped over her mouth. Barnes carried her back to the safe, depositing her while he ripped her pack off her.
"Sir, I insist that you release me at once!" Scarlet's voice was higher-pitched than normal, even as she tried to calm her pounding heart.
Panicking would only make the situation worse.
"You are an intruder in my house, madam," Barnes replied, with all the courtesy that his English accent demanded. He pulled Scarlett's handcuffs, only to be used in the most desperate of emergencies, from her pack and spun her around. "You have no right to make demands."
Before Scarlett could fight back or even protest, he had slapped a cuff on one wrist, threaded it through a bar that protruded from the wall, and cuffed her other wrist. Scarlett's heart rate spiked; this could spell the end of her career or worse! Too late, she struggled, kicking at Barnes. He merely stepped out of her reach.
It was no secret that another billionaire, Ken Madoc, had been searching for her ever since she entered his house to find two bodies stuffed into his safe. Barnes and Madoc ran in the same circles. If they were friends, it might as well be her body hidden away. She would probably never be found.
Barnes calmly stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth, then removed his tie and gagged her with it. "I'm afraid I have to leave you now and attend to my guests. I will return when I can, and then we can talk."
He closed the safe door, locking her in darkness.
Scarlett twisted against her cuffs, panic threatening to overwhelm her. If he was going to call the police, he would not have gagged her. So either he did know Madoc, or he was going to handle her himself anyway. He probably thought he could get away with it–he was so rich, he probably could.
This is why I hate people who have too much money. They think the world is theirs to command.
She kicked around in the darkness, trying to locate her pack. Her lock-picking gear was inside and, if she could get it, then she could escape before Barnes returned to… what? Give her cement shoes and throw her in the nearest lake? Put a bullet in the back of her head?
All her struggles were in vain. By Scarlett's reckoning, she was in the safe for an hour, no closer to escape than when he had first put her in, when Barnes returned. The sounds of partying below were gone, so Scarlett didn't bother screaming when he removed the gag from her mouth. She stared at him coldly as he picked up her pack and emptied it. At least he had the decency to sort things out into proper piles.
"A newspaper clipping about a school in Queens being closed due to budget cuts?" he said at last. A grin grew on his face as he looked up. "You must be the Gentlewoman Thief."
Scarlett nodded with all the grace she could muster.
"I'm honored, madam." He bowed.
"Thank you."
Barnes began packing her things again. "I must say, I have been a great admirer of your work for some time. I especially enjoyed that letter you wrote to the newspaper over the nickname they gave you."
Even though it was ungentlewomanly to scowl, Scarlett found herself doing just that at the mention of her former nickname. Kitty Cat Burglar. "That 'name' was nothing more than an attempt to both infantilize and sexualize me. It's disgusting."
"As you said in your letter." Barnes' smile widened. "A scolding to the media for the way they portray women, especially young girls, as having worth only because of how sexually desirable they are. It was masterfully written."
"Thank you."
"Brains and beauty. A deadly combination." Barnes' gaze ran down her figure lazily, making her tense. He sensed her discomfort and returned his gaze to her eyes. "I have made you uncomfortable."
"I don't like men ogling me when I'm restrained."
"I apologize. It's just that you're not what I was imagining."
Scarlett resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You were expecting a black spandex catsuit on a woman with no muscle definition but who still manages to have perfect perky breasts?"
Barnes shrugged, completely unabashed. "Regardless of what I imagined, I am pleased to meet you. Am I correct in assuming that if I unlock you, you won't attempt to fight against me?"
"Why would you assume that?"
"Because your profession, your creed if you will, abhors violence. I have no doubt that you would be well able to defend yourself, but as you can see, I am carrying no weapons. I would like to talk with you, madam."
Scarlett stared the man in the eye, trying to gauge his truthfulness. She had, of course, thoroughly researched Barnes before she came, like she always did since that disastrous incident with Madoc. Barnes seemed fairly honorable, for a man with as much wealth as he had. Despite her earlier fears, she didn't think that he was going to harm her. She eyed his massive arms and broad shoulders. She was stronger than she looked, but she would be no match for him in a fight.
After a moment's consideration, she nodded. "We can talk."
Barnes unlocked her cuffs and led her to a lavish study, where he poured her a glass of scotch. There was enough gold on the shelves to fill a hundred thousand teeth.
"How does a girl like you end up as a burglar?"
Scarlett scowled, though she accepted the glass. "That word is hardly appropriate."
Barnes rose a brow.
"If you know so much about me, then you must know my morals," Scarlett said. "I only take what ultimately won't be missed, and I make sure to donate at least seventy percent of my acquisitions to those who truly need it. That's hardly enough to be branded a burglar, like those people who come in with masks and guns and beat up homeowners."
"Stealing is stealing. You may practice it without violence, but it's not a victimless crime."
Scarlet felt herself bristling. "Crime? Do you want to talk about crime? Look around this room, Mr. Barnes. There is enough wealth in this single space for an entire family to leave poverty and send their children to university, so they don't waste away trying to pay their bills or debts in minimum wage jobs. You could stop babies from starving and people from serving jail time for 'stealing' what they need to survive. So tell me, what's the bigger criminal? Me, taking a little here and there from people who won't miss it, or you, stealing possibilities from future generations by hoarding your wealth?"
Barnes took a sip of his scotch, an amused smile on his lips. "Your argument is flawed, but not baseless. I am not going to debate morals with you, though, Miss…?"
"You may call me Scarlett."
"Your last name isn't O'Hara, is it? Because with your southern accent—"
"Brenan. You're going to turn me over to the police, anyway, so there is no point in keeping my name from you." Scarlett sighed as she drank. All the good she was doing, finished. Well, it was her own fault for being so careless. Her mentor would be appalled when he found out.
Barnes chuckled. "I have no intention of calling the police, Scarlett."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I have a proposal to make to you." He settled in a wing-backed leather chair. "You have read about me in the newspapers, yes?"
Scarlett nodded.
"Then you know of my mysterious fiancée that everybody knows about but nobody has seen?" At her second nod, he continued. "There is no fiancée. It was something I made up when I last visited my extended family so they would stop bothering me about when I was going to settle down, and the media has blown it completely out of proportion. I'm tired of all my female friends being targeted."
Scarlett held up her hand. "Please get to the point. What does this have to do with me?"
Barnes' smile widened. "I want you to be my fiancée. Hang off my ar
m for a year, let the media have their storm and then we can quietly part. I'll even introduce you to the old wealth of the country, so you'll have plenty of work to keep you occupied after our charade is done. And as a sign of my thanks, I will donate a million dollars every month to a charity of your choice. At the end of the year, five billion will go wherever you want it."
It was a good offer. Scarlett scowled. Did she want to spend a year pretending she was going to marry the man? Well, it was better than prison. At least this way she could continue to do some good. And she had to admit that he was quite attractive, and she had enjoyed their brief verbal sparring. There were worse choices. Letting out a heavy sigh, she nodded.
"I will be your fiancée for a year," she said reluctantly. "But if you think that includes sex, sir, think again."
It seemed impossible, but Barnes' smile got even bigger. His eyes gleamed, as though she had just offered him an exciting challenge. He held out his hand. "Deal."
Scarlett shook his hand, her heartbeat increasing as she did so. She was not thinking about taking back her no-sex rule as she realized just how large his hands were…
This is going to be a long year.
Chapter Two
Barnes–Max, as he insisted Scarlett call him, given that they were engaged–was generous enough to give her a few days to get to know his friends before he unleashed the media on her. And so the day after she got engaged to a man she didn't know, she found herself in a bridal salon with a bunch of women she didn't know. Apparently, Max's housekeeper, Vanessa, had a granddaughter who was getting married soon. Max was footing the bill for her wedding dress.
The bride had astonishingly bad taste. She wanted lace and ruffles and beading and a train six feet long and a puffy princess skirt and a sexy corset top. Any one of the elements by themselves, or even a few together in moderation, would have been fine. But all together? Scarlett was horrified and it took all her control not to slap some sense into the young woman.
