Bad Boy of Wall Street: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Samantha Westlake

  Hook stood off to one side and slightly behind Rob, a big, lumpy, looming shape. Up close, I could see that he hadn't managed to get away from the Cartmann mansion unscathed. He had a dark bruise over one eye, and had wrapped a strip of torn cloth around the knuckles of his right hand, where he'd punched at me and instead hit the frying pan. He glowered at me, and I sensed that he hadn't yet forgiven me for those injuries.

  "Well, she showed up," Hook remarked, the fake jolliness of his voice not matched by his pissed expression. He took a step forward, and I realized that he held a heavy length of dark metal in his hands. A crowbar, I realized after a second. He hefted it, not pointing it directly at me but leaving me with no doubt that he could inflict plenty of damage with it if he decided to do so. "Now, where's the flash drive?"

  My hand reached into my purse, fumbling for the little metal stick. "What's going on? I don't understand who you are, or what you're doing here." I didn't need to fake the quiver of fear in my voice.

  Hook shrugged. "I'm what happens when someone decides to fuck with the wrong people. Frankly, I don't care if you're involved or not, as long as you give me what I'm after."

  "But I don't even know what you're after," I pushed, hoping that he'd be willing to talk, maybe long enough for me to come up with some sort of plan. "I thought that this whole thing was about insider trading."

  "Yeah, that's bullshit." Hook snorted, shaking his head. "It's theft, plain and simple. Someone - maybe your little boy toy here-" he let go of the crowbar with one hand and patted Rob's shoulder, "-or maybe his boss, I don't care, decided that they weren't happy just trading my clients' money, and decided to start skimming off some for themselves. But my clients, see, they don't like when someone takes their shit."

  He gave Rob's shoulder one last squeeze, and then stuck his thumb at his own chest. "So they send me to go get their money back, and to make sure that everyone involved learns not to fuck around with them."

  "Who are your clients?" I asked, feeling mesmerized by Hook's words, like a mouse staring up into the face of the snake about to devour it.

  Hook just smiled, and tapped one nostril, making a sniffing sound. It took me a moment to make the connection, but I gasped as it clicked.

  Drug lords! Hook was here because Chad Cartmann stole money from drug dealers!

  "Anyway, the flash drive." Hook held out his free hand towards me, tightening his grip on the crowbar in his other hand to make it clear how he'd punish me if I didn't hand it over. "Your boy here already told me that it's got the way to access my stolen money, and he's going to get that money back for me. So if you want him to keep all his fingers and toes, you better make that thing appear right away."

  I flicked my eyes over to Rob, wondering what he was talking about. The flash drive held the key to getting back the money that Chad had stolen from Hook's drug dealer clients? That didn't make any sense. Unless Rob had been lying to me this whole time, he didn't even know that this story wasn't about insider trading at all, that it was about stolen money!

  But when I looked over at Rob, the man widened his eyes and gave me a slight, barely perceptible nod. He must have quickly worked it out when Hook started demanding that he give back the money, I realized. In order to buy himself time, he'd promised Hook that he could get the stolen money back - but only if he had the flash drive with the contents of Chad's computer.

  But what would he do now? I reached into my purse for the flash drive, finding it after a few seconds of fumbling around and pulling it out so that Hook could see.

  "Good." The man took another step forward, his eyes glittering in the dim light. I moved to the side, not wanting him standing so close to me, but he kept on creeping in closer.

  Finally, he'd gotten close enough to me to reach out and snatch the flash drive from my fingers. "Now, we're going to need to do something with you," Hook went on, smiling down at me as he closed his big fist around the USB device. It was not a very nice looking smile, and it sent a chill running down my spine.

  "But I did what you asked," I protested. "Can't I go?"

  Hook shook his head. "I need my money back, and you should have seen your boyfriend spill the beans. He dumped out all his secrets as soon as I threatened to hurt you. So I think I need to keep you around a bit longer."

  I looked over at Rob, who made an effort to shrug. The gesture didn't exactly work, not with his chest and arms both bound to the chair, but I got the meaning from him. I smiled back at him, warmed by the fact that he'd give up all this information to keep me safe - although I still worried that we'd end up just dying together when Hook realized that Rob really didn't have access to the stolen money.

  Or did he?

  Hook stepped forward and gave me a shove, before I could move back and keep my distance from him again. With a cry of surprise, I sat down hard on the couch behind me, staring up at this big bear of a man with a crowbar in his arms.

  "Hang out there for a minute," Hook suggested, still wearing a grin that didn't reach his cold eyes.

  With me shoved down and out of the way, he turned back to Rob. "Now, where's a laptop that you can use to get me my money?"

  "Study," Rob answered immediately, nodding with his head in the direction of the closed study door.

  Hook nodded, but he pointed back at me. "Don't even think of trying anything," he warned me. "If I come out and you're not exactly where I left you, I'll be angry. And you really, really won't enjoy it."

  I swallowed as he stomped off to the study. I didn't want to see what Hook would do when he got angry.

  As soon as he went around the corner, I turned to Rob, praying that he'd have a plan. "You do have a way to get that money back, don't you?" I asked, hearing the note of desperation in my voice but unable to keep it down.

  My heart sank, however, at the expression on his face. "I just told him that I could to buy time," he confessed. "I was hoping that you would have a plan."

  "Oh. I hoped that you had one."

  Rob shook his head. "Nothing. I'm so sorry that I dragged you into this, April. I should never have gotten you involved. You should run for it. Get out of here while you can."

  For a moment, I almost wanted to laugh, at how crazy this whole situation was. A couple weeks ago, I never would have imagined that I'd be in a hostage situation, about to be killed by a crowbar-wielding maniac who wanted to reclaim money stolen from his drug dealer clients.

  "No, I'm not leaving," I said finally, although my knees were knocking together. "Not if it means leaving you here to get killed. Maybe we can overpower him, of trick him into letting us go?"

  "It's taken most of my inspiration just to keep him from chopping off my fingers to try and get his money back," Rob answered, but he trailed off before he could say anything else, as Hook came back into the room, Rob's laptop looking tiny in his big hand.

  "Here," he said, dropping the computer down into Rob's lap. "Now, get me my goddamn money."

  "Uh," Rob said, gesturing with his hands, showing how they were still strapped to the arms of the chair and how he couldn't reach the laptop sitting on top of his knees.

  Hook sighed, rolling his eyes. "Goddamn, everything always has to be more complicated than it should be. Really ought to just retire and get out of this business." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a big knife, flicking it open one-handed to reveal a wicked looking, three inch blade.

  "You could just quit now, while you're here?" I suggested desperately, but Hook just pointed the knife at me.

  "Nah. Shut up," he suggested. He turned back to Rob and dragged the knife through the duct tape, cutting free the man's arms. "Now, get to work, and don't even think of pulling any funny shit." He glanced over at me. "Or else it'll be your girlfriend who starts losing fingers. You need yours for typing, but she doesn't need hers."

  I felt the blood draining from my face at the idea of this man slicing off a finger of mine with that big knife. For a moment, I felt a little unsteady, and I dropped back down onto the c
ouch. Hook watched for a moment, making sure that I wasn't a threat, and then turned back to Rob as the man opened up the laptop computer and slipped the little flash drive into the side port.

  I couldn't see the screen of the laptop from this angle, and I feared that Teddy's computer program might not even be accessible. Rob, however, started clicking, scrolling through various screens or files or something.

  Or at least, I hoped that he was managing to do something.

  After a couple of minutes, I saw Rob start, sitting up a little straighter as his eyes widened. "Oh my god," he said softly.

  "You got my money?" Hook asked hopefully. The assassin had been pacing in slow circles around Rob, occasionally bouncing the crowbar off his hand with the dull sound of iron smacking flesh. He stopped every now and then to peer over Rob's shoulder, but it was clear that the computer's display meant nothing to him.

  "No, but I found the program," Rob answered. "God, he really was doing it! This whole time, Chad was breaking into my computer! He falsified my trades and set me up to take the fall for it!"

  I sat up on the couch. That was it! That was the evidence that we needed to prove Rob's innocence!

  Hook, however, didn't care about this. "Big deal," he countered. "Where's my money?"

  "Well, I'm still looking-" Rob started, but Hook shook his head, and his hand shot out, locking onto my wrist. He yanked me up from the couch, ignoring my little cry of pain as he dragged me over to stand in front of Rob.

  "I am out of patience," Hook hissed, standing beside me as he grabbed my hand and held it up. He tossed the crowbar down onto the ground and, with his free hand, whipped out that knife that he'd used earlier to cut Rob free from his bindings. "Get me my money in the next ten seconds, or else your girl here starts losing fingers!"

  Oh god. He was really going to do it. "Please, please no," I prayed, but Hook didn't even blink at my cries.

  "Ten. Nine. Eight..."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  *

  Oh my god. This was it. I was about to have my fingers cut off by a deranged psychopath who thought that Rob had access to his boss's money. This was really going to happen. I was probably going to end up dying in the next hour or so.

  And I couldn't think of a single way to get out of it.

  I tried to struggle against Hook, pulling against him, but I might as well have been fighting a statue. Hook's fingers didn't even budge from where they wrapped around my wrist. He glanced over at me, and then brought the blade over towards my neck. "Hold still, or I'll cut a lot more than your fingers," he warned in a conversational tone, and I froze as I felt that cold metal bump against my neck.

  Once I'd stopped fighting against him, Hook looked back down at Rob. "You've pretty much used up your ten seconds," he said. "Now, this is what happens when you fuck around and promise things that you can't deliver."

  Oh god. I couldn't bear to watch. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to not faint as I waited to feel the burn of metal cutting into my skin.

  From behind me, I heard a soft click, like a knob turning. It didn't matter, though. Please, please don't let it hurt as bad as I think, I prayed. Maybe I would just go into shock and not feel anything.

  For just a moment, I felt the touch of cold steel against the webbing between my thumb and my index finger.

  BOOM!

  A loud bang roared out from behind me, making my ears ring. The feeling of metal against my skin vanished as Hook let go of my wrist, and I opened my eyes in surprise and confusion.

  Hook had staggered several steps forward, and his eyes were wide with shock and surprise! His teeth were bared from either pain or anger, and the knife had tumbled out of his hands, landing on the ground!

  "What the-" he managed, before another loud boom deafened me.

  Something flew across the room and slammed into Hook's chest, knocking him backward! He landed flat on his back on the living room floor, his shirt torn and shredded. Unable to hear, barely able to think, I turned in confusion to see what had just saved me.

  I couldn't believe my eyes. There, in the doorway to her house, stood Diana! The little old lady wore a grim expression - and her gnarled, arthritic hands were wrapped around that double-barreled shotgun that she used as a walking stick, both barrels smoking as they pointed towards Hook!

  "Don't you dare," Diana hissed as she stepped forward to stand over Hook, her face transformed into a mask of furious, righteous anger. "Don't you dare think of laying a hand on my son!"

  On the floor, Hook groaned, but didn't make any effort to move. He was alive, at least - not that I particularly cared about whether he lived or died right now.

  "Oh my god." The words came from Rob, still sitting duct-taped to the chair and staring, wide-eyed, at his grandmother. "Granny?"

  Diana, meanwhile, took a step forward, and then poked me with the shotgun's barrel. "Dear, would you mind going and picking up that crowbar?" she asked me, sounding weirdly polite for having just shot a man. "It always takes me a few minutes to remember how to reload this."

  "Uh, yeah," I said, my brain still sputtering and failing to put any coherent thoughts together. I walked over and picked up the crowbar from where Hook had dropped it, wrapping both hands around it and telling myself that, if the hitman moved, I'd hit him in the head like a batter swinging at a baseball.

  "Granny!" Rob yelled out again. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Why, saving your life, I do believe," Diana answered, giving Rob a sweet little grandmotherly smile. "Dear me, what have you gotten yourself into?"

  "It wasn't my fault-" Rob stopped abruptly as he caught himself. "Granny, you always told me that thing wasn't loaded!"

  "Well, it was just loaded with rock salt," Diana answered, as if this was perfectly acceptable for an old lady to tote around. "Stings like the dickens, but it's not fatal. Ah, there we go!" The gun popped open at the breech, and Diana dumped the two empty shotgun shells out onto her floor. "Now, I think I've got some more in my purse..."

  Still strapped to the chair, Rob bit his lip, looking as if he couldn't decide whether to start laughing or angrily yelling at his grandmother. I quickly ducked forward and picked up Hook's dropped knife from the ground, and went over to start cutting Rob free.

  The duct tape was sticky and clung to the blade, but Hook had kept his weapon sharp, and I managed to saw through the bindings to free one of Rob's arms. Before I could start on the other, however, he reached over and took the knife from me. "Go watch over him, make sure that he doesn't try to get away."

  I nodded and approached Hook, who was now groaning, but still laying out on the floor. I prodded him with the crowbar, and he groaned again, but he didn't appear to be ready to get up and try and fight his way out of here.

  As I looked down at the big man, still needing to tell myself that he wasn't about to come lunging up and attack me again, Rob kept on sawing away at the duct tape that held him too the chair. He straightened back up after cutting his legs free just as Diana closed the shotgun again with a loud click as the weapon cocked.

  "Let me at him again!" she called out, and once again, I heard that iron ring of command in her voice. For that moment that she burst in through the door, firing both barrels of the gun into Hook, she hadn't seemed at all like the kind-hearted little old lady I'd come to know over the last week or two.

  Instead, she'd appeared like an avenging angel, unstoppable and terrifying. Now, as she hoisted the shotgun in her hands and took a threatening step forward towards Hook, I saw glimpses of that battle angel appear again.

  Rob pulled himself free of the chair, groaning as he peeled the last pieces of tape off from where they still clung to his chest, arms, and legs. "Ooh," he hissed as he tore one strip free of his arm, taking a fair amount of arm hair off along with it. "That stings."

  "What do we do now?" I asked, still standing over Hook and holding the crowbar tightly in both hands.

  Instead of answering me, Rob advanced, slipping one foot under
Hook and rolling him over. The hitman's eyes were open, although they squeezed shut into winces of pain as he landed on his salt-lacerated back.

  "That duct tape rolled off somewhere," Rob said to me, although his eyes remained on Hook. "Find it, and we'll tie him up. That should hold him until the police get here."

  Hook, thankfully, didn't put up any more trouble. Maybe it was getting beat by us again, or just the fact that his downfall had come at the hands of an eighty-something year old woman wielding an ancient double-barreled shotgun, but the fight had fled him. He let us manhandle him onto the couch and bind his arms with duct tape.

  The dispatcher on the other end of the 911 call at first didn't seem to believe me when I insisted that there was an assassin in the house, but we'd knocked him out and tied him up. She eventually agreed to dispatch a couple of police cars, although I suspected that she might be telling the officers that there was a chance that they'd just encounter a crazy woman, rather than an actual criminal.

  Ten minutes later, flashing lights and sirens showed up outside of Diana's cottage, and a couple of uniformed cops came in and joined the crowd growing inside Rob's grandmother's little living room. We'd definitely need to clean the carpet, I thought blankly as I looked around at the new arrivals. All of these strangers marching in were tracking mud and dirt everywhere, right down into the fibers.

  A long series of questions and sitting around came next. The police officers needed to speak with each of us individually, and they insisted on taking Diana's shotgun away with them, despite her cries of how she needed it, and she was just a poor old woman all alone, with no way to defend herself. Diana made a valiant effort to argue for her gun to remain with her, until the police officer she was arguing with finally lost his patience and threatened to bring her down to the station, as well.