Plain Jane and the Billionaire (Plain Jane Series)

by Tmonique Stephens

  “Two.” Harden sobered. “I owe you, and I pay my debts.”

  Julius knew exactly what Harden was and wasn’t saying. He didn’t need further explanation on the topic. However… “You hired the bodyguard.”

  “I did.”

  “Female bodyguard?” Julius didn’t know her capabilities, but call him sexist, it didn’t seem feasible.

  “For the club. Not personally. I have special requirements that hiring outside of my circle doesn’t allow,” he said darkly. “Her and her colleagues come from an agency that has exclusive clientele. I simply wrote the check.”

  “Why not use Emmet?” Why settle for less when they were friends with the best.

  Harden scowled. “Because you don’t hire an assassin to babysit. Besides, he’s dealing with an internal situation and is off the grid indefinitely.”

  That was interesting information. Whatever the situation was, if it was bad enough to draw Emmet’s attention and pull him out of circulation, whoever caused the situation wouldn’t be above ground for long.

  “I saw her there, inside the club, before the shooting.”

  Harden’s brows shot up. “You saw Calista? That means she wanted to be seen. She’s good at hiding in plain sight. People tend to overlook her.”

  Why? He wanted to know. “She’s your employee? Who was she guarding?”

  “No one in particular and she’s freelance. Short-term hire. After you got shot, her employment changed to you. Her team has been guarding you ever since.”

  Fine. “I’ll pay you back.” After the hospital stint and he got his wallet back.

  Harden waved him away. “I know you can afford it but let me. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Yes, yes, it is.”

  Harden came to the side of the bed and patted his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch. Just know you’re safe and everything is taken care of. Rest and take the pain meds when you need it, man. You’re not gonna fall again… and if you do, I’ll be there to kick your fucking ass.”

  That’s how to deliver a pep talk. Nothing else was needed to be said. And it wasn’t because he took two bullets for the head of the New York syndicate and Harden owed him, big time. Anytime, anywhere, whatever he needed done, Harden had no choice but to pony up. No favor was too big or too inconvenient. Regardless of the bullet holes, Harden would be there for any of them, as would Julius. What was a little blood and body parts between best friends. Nothing at all.

  Harden took off and the bodyguard returned. She walked across the hospital room with a no-nonsense strut and took her seat. He studied her, couldn’t help it. She had to know yet ignored him in favor of the magazine in her hands.

  He was weary. Bone-tired. Yet, he had to ask. “Why the scrubs if you’re my bodyguard?”

  “Adversaries tend to ignore the obvious. I’m simply a nurse. Non-threatening. Easily dismissed.” Her focus remained on the magazine.

  Easily dismissed, huh. He didn’t buy it but didn’t have the strength to argue the point. Nothing about her was dismissible and he’d just met her. He trusted Harden, that didn’t mean he didn’t have questions. Call him gun shy after losing part of a lung. “How do you know Harden Gage?”

  She looked up, her gaze cool and impersonal. “I don’t. He’s my employer.”

  Decent answer. “What company do you work for?”

  “I freelance. My partners and I, Scotts and Rhodes.” She pointed and he spotted a guy in a suit standing outside the room, and another one dressed in a janitor’s uniform pushing a mop.

  Clever. And evasive. “Does he do windows?”

  “Only yours.” She crossed her legs.

  “How long have you been a bodyguard?” He wheezed, suddenly exhausted.

  She closed the magazine and leveled those hazel eyes on him. “Long enough to know when an opponent is beaten. Get some sleep.”

  “How long?” he insisted.

  “Ten years, give or take,” she answered.

  He didn’t believe her. “Did you start at eleven? Twelve?” He didn’t call her a liar, but she couldn’t be more than twenty-two.

  “That’s a roundabout way of asking a lady for her age. I’m thirty, by the way.”

  Thirty! He eyed her brazenly. Shit. Thirty looked good on her.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, her tone dry.

  He wasn’t trying to hide it. She was a beautiful woman. Not in the average, pretty girl way. There was something about her that captured his attention and wouldn’t let it go. It had to be some sort of savior syndrome. She had saved his life. Now he owed her, and the attraction factored into the syndrome. Bullshit. He was attracted to her before he took two bullets for Harden. “What am I thinking?”

  “Black don’t crack.” She smirked.

  And he smirked right back at her. “That’s not what I’m thinking.” He yawned and settled deeper into the bed. “I’m thinking I need to expand my roster.”

  Her brow furrowed and her hand settled on her hip. “Excuse me? Your roster… Of women?”

  He nodded, punch-drunk on pain meds. “I’m tired of the twenty-something-year-olds. No challenge.”

  “And that’s how you see women? As a challenge?”

  “Nope. Too easy. Too much Instagram. Not enough substance.”

  “Raise your standards, then.” She scoffed as if she’d asked him to climb Everest.

  “My standards are sky-high and not the issue.”

  “Of course, they are. That’s why you’re thirty and single. Yeah, you had an ex-girlfriend stop by to hold your hand. Though, if needed, would she shove a bedpan under your ass for you to take a dump? That’s real love.”

  How did this conversation suddenly get so deep and focused on his romantic choices? He yawned, long and hard, his jaw stretched wide enough for the joints to ache. “That was harsh, though accurate.”

  What the fuck? Was there a truth serum mixed with the pain meds?

  He wanted to keep the conversation going, but what energy he had was suddenly gone. Calista rose and came to his bedside. He noted her full, soft lips without a hint of lipstick, adding to their allure.

  He blinked, his lids crashing heavily from exhaustion. He fought it, wanting to hold out and study his bodyguard a bit longer.

  “You’re like a kid fighting their bedtime,” she murmured.

  He should take offense but found himself agreeing, though his childhood ended the day he gained a stepmother and lost a father. Being flat on his back, at the mercy of doctors, nurses, the limitations of his own body, was a betrayal to the person he’d become. A person who shaped the world around him to suit his needs. A person who overcame every obstacle placed in his way instead of succumbing to every temptation unique to his lifestyle. This he couldn’t fight, though he put up a good fight as he slid into unconsciousness.

  At the last moment before darkness took him, the warmth of her hand on his forearm seeped into his skin. Her touch, combined with her words, “Don’t worry. I got you,” followed him to the void.

  Chapter 4

  “They just took his tube out. Let him rest.”

  “The tube was removed hours ago. This is an investigation and you will not stand in my way.”

  Voices. Angry and escalating, a baritone competing with a husky contralto, dragged Julius from the sweet haven of unconsciousness. Instead of swimming through pea soup that numbed his senses, he floated in a turbulent sea of agony. Chest, side, head, throat, all of him hurt. The type of pain that seared into the memory and with each breath flared anew.

  “I’m not trying to get in your way, but clearly Mr. Morgan is not up to taking questions. Look at the man.”

  “Don’t care what he looks like. All I need is for him to make a statement.”

  “I’ll call you when he wakes up.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Calista Coleman.”

  “And who exactly are you?”

  Everyone shut the fuck up! Julius tried to say. What came out was a low
groan and finally he had silence. Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and he waited for the fog blurring his vision to lift and the world to come into sharp relief.

  His gaze landed on the woman first. It’s her, he realized, the woman in the ambulance and in the club. From the neck up, she was the same. Cinnamon skin, sharp jaw, full lips, hard hazel eyes. She was tall, like he remembered, but instead of her black suit, she was dressed in a colorful scrub top and white scrub pants that hid her figure.

  “Mr. Morgan?” She approached the bed. “Do you need help?” She didn’t wait for an answer before pressing the call button. “He may be awake, but he’s still out of it. Answering questions right now is impossible.”

  “When did you get a medical license? You’re his nurse. Not the doctor. Now shut up and get out.”

  A slight turn of Julius’ head brought the man in focus. Cheap suit with a badge clipped to his waist. Mid-thirties by the weathered texture of his face. He was old enough to know that was not how one spoke to a lady. And the man standing silently next to him should’ve had the balls to tell him so. “Your name?” Julius croaked, his throat so dry he’d swear he’d swallowed the Sahara.

  “Federal Agent Leo Franks, Mr. Morgan. This is my partner, Don Evans. We need to ask you questions about the shooting.” Authoritative. He was used to being obeyed and the badge gave him that expectation.

  “Not without my attorney. Now leave.”

  The agent’s face flushed beet red. “Don’t you want to know who did this to you?”

  Yes. But that info wouldn’t come from the police. “I asked you to leave, nicely.” He wouldn’t do so again.

  “You took a bullet for Harden Gage, the head of the New York syndicate. Someone wants him dead and you got in the way. You’re his friend. They could come back to finish you off to get to him. You need to talk to us, Mr. Morgan. We can protect you,” Agent Evans spoke.

  “You must not have seen the cover of Forbes. I don’t need the FBI to protect me from anyone,” he croaked like an adolescent boy because his voice had given out.

  “I hope you don’t regret this with your life. Money can’t save you from a determined gunman.”

  Wrong. Enough money can save you from anything.

  “He asked you to leave.” Calista stepped between Julius and the agents.

  “Either you work with the FBI or you’re working against us,” Agent Franks stated.

  “Is that a threat?” Calista’s words echoed Julius’ thoughts.

  “It was a threat,” Julius replied to Calista, but his gaze locked onto the agents. “You want to investigate me, go ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide.” His business was clean, squeaky. “Now. Get. Out.”

  Disgusted, the agents made a sharp pivot, had to wait for the glass door to swoosh open, and left. Julius’ gaze returned to Calista. She defended him when she had no reason to. He opened his mouth to thank her, however, the door swooshed open again and in walked Dr. Frye and another nurse.

  “Mr. Morgan, how do you feel?” the doctor asked.

  “Like shit.” His fucking throat hurt. “Water.”

  The nurse rushed away and returned with a paper cup and straw, all under the watchful eyes of Calista. Water never tasted so sweet. He drained the cup and almost begged for more, but from that simple act, he was out of breath.

  The doctor pressed a stethoscope to his chest. “Take it slow.”

  Julius remembered the damage the doctor had listed: kidney gone, shoulder banged up, lung fucked up, and nothing else. “How long of a recovery am I looking at?” he demanded.

  “Well, you lost the upper lobe of your right lung, but it shouldn’t compromise your quality of life. Same goes for your kidney. You lost a lot of blood and it was touch and go. In a few weeks, your breathing should stabilize and with exercise, you won’t miss the portion of lung we removed. We’ll keep track of your urine output for a few days, then we’ll remove the catheter and get you peeing on your own.”

  Julius’ gaze dropped to his right arm in a sling, a tube coming out the right side of his chest, and another bandage low on his side. “That’s a lot to digest.”

  Dr. Frye nodded. “It is. Just know, in time, you should make a complete recovery. You’re healthy and young enough for a good outcome.”

  Julius would take the doctor’s word. He didn’t have much choice. “When can I go home?”

  “Well, we don’t want to rush this.”

  That wasn’t a good enough answer. “Let me make this clear. I want to go home and you will make it happen.”

  The doctor drew himself up, prepared to argue his point. A point Julius had no interest hearing.

  “Excuse me, Dr. Frye, but Mr. Morgan’s assistant took the liberty of purchasing all the medical equipment he will need to make a full recovery. Everything is in the process of being set up in his home where he will have around the clock care, along with a private duty nurse and his private physician. Any medical tests can be performed on an outpatient basis, and if any emergencies arise we have a private ambulance service on standby.”

  Mouth puckered in a frown, Dr. Frye nodded once and punched the tablet in his hand. “I’ll need a list of all the equipment purchased and I want to run a few tests before he leaves, and I want to speak to his private physician.”

  “Of course, doctor. I will get that to you immediately.”

  Expertly, she deferred to the physician, placating him while Julius silently observed until they were alone.

  Calista rounded on him, her face stern, brooking no argument. “Don’t combust, okay,” she said before he got a single word out. “The changes Meckler approved are superficial, in place to make certain you have everything you need in case there is an emergency.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off and continued. “You’re going to ask how I knew you were going to check out of here. I’d be a fool to think anything else. Why would you want to stay when you’re upright and breathing well enough?”

  She was right about it all, except for one thing. His dick worked as far as the pissing part went, but he wouldn’t completely breathe a sigh of relief until he stroked one out or had a volunteer to help with the process. Watching Calista, he knew exactly who he wanted the volunteer to be.

  “No one worth ten billion dollars would willingly spend another night on a hard hospital mattress when they could spend the night in their bed. So, I and your assistant took the liberty of setting things up. We lined up the private duty nurse, and your doctor has agreed to make house calls, for an exorbitant fee, but you can afford it.”

  Again, he couldn’t fault her logic because she wasn’t wrong. Nothing could keep him here any longer. He did have one comment, though.

  “I don’t have a private doctor.” Healthy people didn’t need one, and he had been healthy his entire life.

  “Well, you do now. Some time ago, you gave Meckler power of attorney in case anything happened to you, and getting shot counts as something happening to you. He hired a doctor on your behalf and authorized the release of your medical records to him.”

  He had signed a limited power of attorney to Meckler two years ago during his reckless period of skydiving, climbing the Matterhorn, and shark diving. “You initiated this?”

  She shrugged and seemed to weigh the truth versus telling him a white lie. “I suggested it to Meckler, who agreed.”

  Julius studied her with new eyes. Either, she was incredibly perceptive, or she knew him on a level that shouldn’t be possible given the short amount of time she’d been his bodyguard.

  “You may be tempted to fire me because of my presumption, but I had your best interest in mind.” Her features neutral, she folded her arms and waited for his reaction. She gave nothing away while Julius allowed himself to smile. His respect for her continued to grow.

  “Is Meckler on his way?”

  “He’ll be here soon,” she said, which was no answer at all but it was better than nothing.

  Chapter 5

  “So, I can leave now?” Julius d
emanded of Dr. Frye. Enough was enough. He was done being poked and prodded. He was done being sick. Done with the hospital. Done with nurses and doctors.

  Twenty-four hours lying on his back on a hard mattress would drive anyone insane, especially when every breath, piss, and fart was monitored. Every time he moved an alarm went off. But he had Calista. Her presence alone kept him sane. Plus, they had a lot in common. Little things like they loved baseball, Yankees; football, the Giants; and they weren’t fans of basketball. They disagreed over politics and didn’t come to blows. They loved action movies and sci-fi, both were Trekkies and loved a good mystery. Neither had many friends. He had five and she had one, her cousin, which was sad. She claimed she was too busy with her mother and her job, but he didn’t buy that. Everyone needed someone and she wasn’t the exception.

  Day two they moved him out of the ICU to a VIP room, which only made the hospital marginally better. The chest tube came out. Then the catheter out of his dick. Ignoring the pain, he got out of bed and used the bathroom all on his own, like a big boy. That accomplished, he wanted to go home, but all they told him was to calm down, relax, and just a few more tests.

  Yeah, right. Relax? Impossible on a bed that could double as a marble slab. Though it wasn’t all bad. Relaxing kept Calista by his side. Night and day. The hospital staff brought in a recliner with blankets and a pillow for her. Rhodes and Scotts switched out with a different pair of bodyguards. Not Calista. She remained. Rhodes brought her clothes. Julius listened to her shower in his bathroom, listened to the change in the water pattern as it struck her body.

  How big were her breasts? Would they fit in his palms or overflow? He had big hands. At first, he had wondered how rounded her curves were. How soft. After she practically picked him up and helped him to bed, he’d answered that question. She wasn’t soft. Oh, she had curves, rounded breasts and hips, a very nice dip to her waist that his hand had settled in. But that’s where her softness ended. The rest of her was toned, corded muscle. Serena Williams entered his mind, and while he’d never been attracted to that particular athlete, his cock was stone imagining Calista gliding her hands over her soapy, wet skin.