Big Bad Billionaires

by Naughty Aphrodite

  “You can say that I’ll be spending a lot more time in St. Augustine from now on,” he said mischievously.

  “And why is that?” she asked. She knew what she wanted the answer to be and dreaded it at the same time. His blue eyes looked into hers with all the sincerity she had seen on the first night she met him. He lifted one hand to push a stray hand of hair behind her ear.

  “Because I’m in love with a woman who lives here,” he said gently. Leah felt her heart speed up while a wide grin spread across her face.

  “Well then,” she said. “For the record, that woman loves you too.”

  As he leaned in to kiss her again, Leah couldn’t help but feel that the record had never been so satisfying.

  THE END

  Rags To Riches

  Chapter 1

  Wandering down a dark back alley, Steve pulled his hoodie up over his head and hunched over, trying to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible. Camden, New Jersey at night is not the kind of place you want to hang around for too long, or even that much in the day time either. The crime rate is high and there isn’t a day that goes by without somebody getting mugged, stabbed or shot.

  It had been another long hard day, but Steve was feeling lucky. The construction work he’d been doing over the past week had meant that he’d gotten a hot meal every night and not knowing when the opportunity would arise again he’d been frugal and managed to keep some aside each day so that he would hopefully have enough to eat next week as well.

  He was making his way back to the abandoned warehouse where he slept. The still warm fall nights were drawing to a close and the icy chill of winter was in the air meaning the night time temperatures plummeted. Having been on the streets since he was 16, Steve had become an expert at finding areas to sleep that were secluded and safe. He’d only let one other person know about the entrance to the warehouse, his friend Rosie. She’d been one of the first people he’d met when he’d arrived in Camden and found himself with no job and no place to stay. She’d taken him under her wing and shown him how to construct a fairly warm and stable shelter from cardboard and old blankets, and she’d introduced him to some of the more trustworthy members of the homeless community and pointed out the ones who were trouble.

  Now, though, Rosie was in her 70s and relying on Steve more and more for support. Not that Steven minded. It was the least he could do after all the help she’d given him over the years. He felt in his pocket for the candy bars he’d bought for her, they were her favorite and it always made him smile to see her eat them with barely contained glee, even if she always moaned afterward that they were a lot smaller than they used to be.

  Heading deeper into the alley Steve kept close to the wall and in the shadows as much as possible. He could hear voices now so he tried to keep his steps soft and quiet. Seeing movement just ahead of him he crouched down behind a garbage can to try and assess the situation. He could just make out a small gang of three, no, four people standing around a dark shape on the ground. The shape moved and Steve realized it was another person.

  “No, please!”

  Steve froze at the sound of fear in the man’s voice. Damn, this wasn’t good. He couldn’t turn back now as they’d probably hear him. He had no choice but to stay put and hope they didn’t notice him.

  Trying to regulate his breathing and keep himself calm he watched the scene in front of him play out like something from a movie.

  “We warned you what would happen...”

  Despite Steve straining to try and hear what was being said he couldn’t quite make out the rest of the conversation. Suddenly there was a scuffle followed by a loud bang.

  Shit! They’d shot him.

  Panic flooded through Steve and it took all the strength he had to not cry out in fear. He whipped his head back so that he was fully hidden and tried to flatten himself against the trash can, almost willing himself inside it where he’d be safer. His breathing seemed extraordinarily loud to him and he was sure that the gang would be able to hear it and come looking for him to eliminate any witnesses to their attack. Overcome by fear and not knowing what else to do, he found himself silently praying to a God that he’d thought he’d given up on a long time ago.

  As if in answer to his prayers a loud car startled the gang and he heard them yell out to each other before they started running. The panic in him built as he realized that they were running in his direction, but they passed straight by him without even noticing. Still, Steve didn’t move until the heavy sound of footsteps had disappeared completely. When he was sure that the gang had gone he cautiously pushed himself up and made his way over to the dark figure slumped against the wall.

  “Hello?” he whispered. “Sir…Can you hear me?”

  A faint gurgling sound was all Steve could hear but he felt a rush of relief that the man was still alive. He knelt down next to him trying to see as much as he could in the faint glow of the nearby street lamp. The man’s face was deathly pale and a slick layer of sweat covered his face. Moving his glance further down his body, he saw the man was holding his stomach.

  “Have you been shot? Can I see where? I might be able to help you.” He carefully pulled aside the man’s suit jacket and sucked in his breath. What was obviously once a pristine white shirt was now soaked through with blood.

  Fuck, they’d got him in the gut. This wasn’t looking good. Trying to find a way to help stop the bleeding, Steve reached up for the scarf wound tightly around his neck. He felt a moment of concern at how dirty it was but he didn’t have anything else to use, the hospital could worry about the chances of infection later - assuming the man made it that long.

  “I’m just going to put some pressure on the wound, okay? It should help stop the bleeding.

  Rolling up the scarf so that it was as thick as possible, he pressed down hard on the man’s stomach, hoping that it would work. He’d never had to deal with a gunshot wound before, but living on the streets came with its own dangers and without the benefits of health insurance you soon had to learn the best ways of managing a bleeding and various other injuries.

  He’d once gotten into a fight with a man who had tried to mug Rosie as they were walking down an alley very much similar to this one. He’d ended up with a pretty nasty stab wound, but, luckily, a doctor had been passing at the time and had looked after him. He’d even taken him to his surgery so that he could stitch him up, free of charge. Steve always tried to remember that there were good people in the world who were willing to help others out and ask for nothing in return. Just as he was trying to do now.

  “What’s your name, son?” The stranger’s voice was quiet and shaking. Looking down into his eyes Steve knew that he wasn’t going to make it to the hospital.

  “It’s Steve, sir.”

  “Steve, thank you. You didn’t have to stop to help me.” The man paused, coughing slightly but determined to get his words out. “I want you to have something.”

  He winced in pain as he fumbled around in his trouser pocket. Not wanting him to suffer any more than he already was, Steve gently placed a hand on his shoulder to try and stop him.

  “It’s ok, I don’t need anything.”

  The man reached up and took Steve’s hand, placing a cold metal object into his palm before closing it. The effort it had taken him was too much and his arm fell back to his side.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, and then he was gone.

  Steve sat back on his haunches in shock. What was he supposed to do now? Should he call for an ambulance? The sudden blast of a police siren answered the question for him. No way did he want to get caught here by the police, they’d see a dark silhouette standing over the body and automatically assume he was the one who shot him. Taking one last, regretful look at the man, Steve got up and ran away.

  ***

  Steve didn’t stop running until he was inside the warehouse where he collapsed on his makeshift bed. Panting from exhaustion he waited for the room to stop spinning and his breath to come
back before he sat up again and held his head in his hands. He’d seen a lot of awful things living on the streets but he’d somehow managed to avoid scenes like the one he’d witnessed tonight. He’d been lucky enough to have never had to hold a man while he bled out before.

  As the adrenaline subsided, the enormity of what had just happened hit Steve and he was surprised to find huge sobs wracking his body and tears streaming down his face.

  He’d just seen a man shot and killed.

  What the hell was he supposed to do now? How could he carry on as normal? Smile as Rosie ate her candy bars, walk to the construction site in the morning in the hope that there was some work for him, visit the shelter for a shower and a fresh set of clothes? All of these routine things somehow seemed alien to him now.

  He looked down at his hands that were dark and streaked with the stranger’s blood. The sight of it made Steve feel sick and he quickly started to fumble around his shelter until he found the bottle of water that he was looking for. It was supposed to be for drinking only, but he still had enough money to buy a couple more bottles and this was an emergency, so he unscrewed the top and poured it over his hands, scrubbing them with the corner of his blanket at the same time. He’d have to try and find a way of arranging the blanket so that the blood that now stained it didn’t show. He didn’t want Rosie to ask questions or worry about him. The process of cleaning his hands calmed Steve and he poured some water over his head to wash away the tears and sweat that streaked his dirt covered face. He lay back onto his bed and stared up at the high concrete ceiling of the warehouse, replaying the scene over and over again before he eventually fell into a sleep that was plagued with gunshots and the feeling of cold metal against his hand.

  ***

  When he awoke the next morning he looked over to Rosie’s bed to see her sleeping soundly. Even though he didn’t feel like he’d rested at all, he hadn’t heard her come in. It was his routine to check where she was every morning. He wouldn’t be able to relax all day if he didn’t know that she was safe at the warehouse or with her friends in the shelter where she spent most of her time now. At her age, the streets were too dangerous and the sidewalks too hard for her. He softly walked over to her and watched her sleeping. Her wrinkled face seemed somehow smoother when she slept, but he missed seeing the mischievous glint in her eye that had never waned despite having been homeless for most of her life.

  Not wanting to wake her, Steve quietly gathered up his things and made his way back out on to the street. Finally out in the sunshine, he reached into his pocket to examine the item the man had been so keen to pass to him last night. He was surprised to find it was a key.

  A key for what? He turned it over in his hand and found that it was engraved with an address for a private bank that was located in a far more upmarket area than this one. Steve wasn’t sure what to do. Should he visit the bank and see what the key opened? What if it turned out to be something bad, like drugs? Well, if that was the case he could just lock it back up and forget all about it. He may be homeless but he wasn’t about to get into something as stupid as drug dealing. But he had to admit to being curious, and he knew that if he didn’t at least find out what the key was for it would always be there at the back of his mind.

  Knowing that there was no way they’d even let him in the bank looking like he did, Steve first stopped off at the local homeless center. He always felt humbled by sight of so many homeless people gathered together. They’d originally come from all walks of life. He knew of several that had been very rich and had suddenly lost everything. Others – like himself – had left home as teens and had struggled ever since. He spotted a few that were obviously quite new, judging by the look of horror and confusion on their faces.

  He smiled as he greeted Edward, the shelter leader, and then made his way over to the showers. Showering was one of his favorite things to do and he always tried to take his time and enjoy it, although it was difficult in a municipal shower area where there was always somebody else waiting. Stepping under the hot water and washing away all the grime and dirt of the past few days he instantly felt better. It was almost as if he was also getting rid of everything that had happened last night. He knew that it would take more than a shower to get over it fully, but this was definitely helping.

  After drying and wrapping a towel around his slim waist, he went over to the rags full of donated clothes to see if there was anything in his size that would be suitable to wear to a bank. Luckily somebody had given away a plain navy suit. Picking out a grayish shirt and a pair of only slightly scuffed black shoes to go with it, Steve quickly changed and checked himself in the mirror. His black hair was still slightly too long and unkempt, but at least he was clean shaven. Plus, he liked to think that his hair gave him an air of somebody who was important but also laid back. Hopefully, it was enough to get in the bank and find out what the key opened.

  Chapter 2

  The walk to the bank seemed to take forever and Steve really hoped that his suit didn’t look too crumpled by the end of it. He could have got the bus over but he didn’t really want to spend any more money than he had to. Instead, he intended to save it so that he and Rosie could get something to eat. Standing outside the large stone building, he craned his neck to look up at its uppermost windows while he worked up the courage to go inside. He wasn’t sure what he was so worried about. It wasn’t as if they’d instantly be able to tell that he was here for something that technically didn’t belong to him - would they?

  Chiding himself for his lack of confidence, Steve took a deep, relaxing breath, straightened his shoulders and casually walked into the bank like he had just as much right to be there as everybody else. He made his way over to the nearest free clerk.

  “Hi, Ma’am, I wonder if you could help me?”

  So far it had been a fairly uneventful morning and the clerk was already thinking about her early finish at 4pm. So she was pleased when she looked up to see such a strikingly handsome man standing in front of her. Tall and slim, his skin was a warm brown with a slightly golden undertone that the bank lighting highlighted. Seeing him smiling at her with a glint in his hazel eyes suddenly made the bank seem like a much better place to be and she couldn’t help smiling back at him.

  “I’ll certainly try my best for you, sir. What is it that you need?”

  The man put a key down on the counter in front of her. “My father recently passed away and he left me this key. I have to admit, I haven’t a clue what it’s for, but I’m assuming it’s some kind of safety deposit box.”

  Strictly speaking, it wasn’t the bank’s policy to hand a safety deposit box over to just anybody, but situations like this were quite common and it normally meant that the deceased had something they didn’t want their partner to see. It seemed a shame that this poor, bereaved man was most likely about to find out that his father wasn’t exactly the man he thought he was. She just hoped it wasn’t like the situation last month where a young woman had come in with the key to her father’s box and hoping that it contained a large amount of money, only to find it contained the details of a second family that he’d been keeping secret.

  “Of course, sir.” She nodded over to her right, indicating to another member of staff. “If you just follow Jerome, he’ll take you over to our viewing room. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “No that’s all. Thank you...” he paused as he glanced down at her badge to read her name, “Ruth. Thank you for your time.”

  Sighing with disappointment that he hadn’t asked her on a date, Ruth took comfort in the view of his bum walking away.

  Alone in a room full of safety deposit boxes, Steve couldn’t believe how easy it had been. He’d been so nervous talking to the bank clerk, but it seemed that they were used to people turning up with random keys and he hadn’t needed to worry. Now, though, as he sat on a hard wooden bench with the box next to him, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to open it. His mind flew back to the sight of the man slu
mped against the wall.

  What had he done to incur the wrath of a gang like that? It couldn’t have been anything good. Steve really hoped that he didn’t find anything too awful like a murder weapon. How would he explain that one to the cops? That was assuming he had the courage to go to the police.

  He liked to think that he did but, deep down, he wasn’t so sure. He’d seen enough of his friends accused of crimes they hadn’t committed simply because they were homeless and therefore the police automatically assumed they were criminals as well. Maybe if it was a weapon he could try and solve the mystery himself. People hardly ever noticed homeless people, so that could actually work in his favor. He could just imagine himself following the trail of clues like a detective off the TV. Yeah, he’d like that.

  His hands trembling slightly, Steve placed the key into the lock and turned it. It stuck slightly, but he gave it a quick jiggle and felt it release. He paused for a second, resting his hands on the cool metal lid. This could potentially change his life, although for better or worse remained to be seen.

  After building it up so much in his head, it came as something of a disappointment to Steve when he lifted the lid to reveal a black plastic bag. He quickly looked inside the bag and found three packages, each wrapped in plastic and secured with duct tape. It didn’t appear to be a murder weapon so there went the detective idea. But it was hard to tell exactly what it was without opening the bags, which he didn’t really feel comfortable doing here. After all, anybody could walk in at any minute. No, he’d feel safer if he went back to the warehouse. Rosie would have left by now and made her way to the shelter. He knew that he should probably tell her everything that had happened but he wanted to keep her safe. If there was any chance of the gang that killed the stranger finding out about him or the key, he didn’t want Rosie being caught up in it and getting injured - or worse.