“Put me out? Why, all the other wives are green with envy. I expect them to start barging in any second. They’ve invited themselves to a potluck, late-night dinner. They all want to meet Isabella’s millionaire.
My net worth is closer to a billion. However, today I’d give it all away to keep Izzy and her family safe.
My love seems contented as she sits back in her chair, closes her eyes, and smiles. Is this where she’d rather be? In Minnesota?
My heart heavy, I put my arm over her shoulder. “Do you like it here?”
Her brows shoot up. “Of course, why?”
Shit.
She pushes on the corners of my frown with two fingers. “Hey, I didn’t say I wanted to live here. You’re my home, now.”
My eyes actually water and I have to clear my throat. What the hell just happened? It’s probably lack of sleep and all that hugging. It can fuck with your head.
Before I can respond and tell her what that means to me, the doorbell rings.
Me and some male family members help Lois pull out three card tables and place two wood inserts into the kitchen table. After, we gather chairs and benches from all over the house. A few folding ones are carried in by more as they enter the front door.
“Are the little ones all tucked in?” Worried about Izzy’s niece, I catch Josh’s ear as the women shoo us out of the kitchen.
“Like you suggested, they’re having a bible school sleep-over. Your man Slate has them well-guarded. He called in some favors as well. Those guys looked more than capable.”
“If he vouches for them, you can be sure they are… By the way? I could use a weapon.”
“You know how to use one?” Josh’s eyes narrow as he studies me like a lawman.
“College marksman, four years in a row.”
Nodding, he unlocks a gun rack and hands me a Winchester rifle with a box of bullets. I make sure it’s loaded with the safety on and keep it close by.
“Thanks.”
Soon, we’re all seated with Isabella at my right and she says grace. “Thank you, God, for this food, my family, my friends, and my love. Keep us safe and send Xavier Cross out of your heavenly grace and straight to he–”
“-Isabella!”
“Heck.” She snorts out a small giggle. “Sorry, Mom.”
After that, everyone talks and eats at once and I’m a bit at a loss to keep up. My life is full of well-mannered board members, CEO’s, and investors. This? This is a three-ring circus.
Finally, everyone departs with a couple men promising to keep guard outside. I check in with Slate and he assures me the kids couldn’t be safer. Why then, do I feel so damned uncomfortable?
I join Josh for a while outside and come in the house around midnight.
“Anything?” Isabella searches my face and I shake my head, no.
Lois stands from where she was quietly watching television. “Alright, you two. You’re going to get some sleep. No arguments. We got this.”
She leads us down a long hall and into a room with an antique sleigh-bed and thick, warm, hand-sewn quilts.
“I can’t possibly. I’m too wound up.” Isabella looks to me to defend her cause but I won’t. The poor girl hasn’t slept well in days.
“Clean towels are in the bathroom, across the hall. Holler if you need anything else.” She yawns. “I’m turning in, too.”
I hold up my rifle. “We can close our eyes for a minute, okay?”
Lois, turns on a heel and shuts the door firmly.
Alone for the first time since leaving the airport, I find my lover’s lips and gaze into her eyes. They’re red from lack of sleep and lined with dark circles. I fold down the quilt, sit her down on the bed, and stand in front of her patting my thigh. Up comes one foot, I unlace a sneaker, then the other. Heaving out a heavy sigh, I sit with my back on the headboard, pull her head onto my lap, and turn off the light.
Her hand finds mine and grasps it. “Do you think he’ll come?”
“I don’t know. But if he does, we’re ready.”
“I love you, Gray.”
My hand squeezes hers back. “Love you, too, babe.”
Soon, she’s breathing regular while I stare into the dark, listening, waiting, watching.
In the middle of the night, George shouts, a gun fires, and a door slams.
“Stay put.” I slip out from under her and grab the rifle, praying I won’t have to use it. If I do, I pray my aim is good.
“Is it him?” Isabella is on my heels in seconds.
“For fuck’s sake, Izzy. Get your aunt and lock yourselves in the bedroom.”
“Don’t worry about me. I got this covered.” Lois is in the living room standing with a shotgun aimed out the bay window.
The upper floor covered, I creep down the stairs to the front door and open it a crack, rifle pointing.
Suddenly, a red laser dot appears on Isabella’s chest.
“Down.” I throw her to the landing, cover her body with mine, and glass shards explode.
Fuck.
Josh shouts, “Police. Put the gun down, son.”
A shotgun makes a gaping hole in the wood overhead and Isabella shrieks.
“You guys okay in there?” Josh is closer, now, his voice coming from the front yard.
“Yeah. Just a few cuts, nothing serious.” Realizing I have my full weight on Isabella I roll off.
Her eyes are wide as she points to the glass pieces sticking out of my arms. “You’re bleeding.”
“Looks worse than it is. Stay low. Okay?”
She nods and finally obeys.
“Dammit!” Another ear-splitting blast shatters the sliding glass door behind where Lois was pointing and something or someone thumps on the main floor.
I hold my breath and fear the worst until she says, “God damn it, George, I broke our back door but I got one, honey.”
“Okay sweetheart, sit tight. We may have another.” Her husband’s voice is muffled, sounding like he walked outback.
After I feel enough time has passed, I rise to my feet with my hand on Isabella’s head and peer out the five-inch shotgun hole. When my eyes adjust to the dark, I see movement, and for a moment, the front seat of a car is lit up.
I don’t fucking believe it. Xavier is parked in the street, just sitting there. And he’s unarmed. Otherwise, I’d kill him.
I take aim at the tires, fire once, and just miss. Before I can adjust for the next shot, he guns the engine and roars off into the distance.
“Josh? George? That was him!” I run out the door and into the front yard but the car is long gone.
Josh jumps in his cruiser, sirens blazing, and there’s nothing more I can do, other than wait.
“God dammit!” I climb back up the steps and pull a worried Isabella into my arms.
Hours later, the uncles board up the house, Lois brags how she shot an intruder full of buckshot, and I mainline coffee.
Every shard hurts like hell as Izzy picks glass out of my arm with tweezers.
“I fucked up. Xavier is still out there, somewhere.” The light is best in the upstairs bathroom for her ministrations where I sit on the john.
“Uh huh.” She pulls an especially large sliver from my back, and I suck in my breath.
“Mother fucker.”
“Sorry.”
“No problem. I need to ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“Is there some reason, other than getting back at me that Xavier might want to blackmail you?”
“What do you mean?”
“The only thing that motivates him is money, and lots of it. He’s taking a lot of risk for little gain.”
“I got about three hundred dollars in my savings… ” She laughs a bit too nervously and suddenly it dawns on me what it might be.
“The Houston Project. The government gave you an assignment, didn’t they?”
She nods, her lips locked tight.
“They told you not to tell anyone?”
&nb
sp; She shrugs.
Fucking Government.
“God damn it Isabella. What’re you working on?”
“Just some code.”
I stand, pace and throw my hands up in the air and bandages go flying. “Just some code. Look at this place. For Christ’s sake, your aunt just shot someone. You could’ve been killed!”
“I’m pretty sure that project has nothing to do with this.”
Damn, the woman is so naïve, it kills me. I roll my eyes, and call for her uncle, “George? We need to talk.”
Chapter 15
Grayson
It takes hours to clean up the broken window and answer questions posed by the State Police. Now, it’s morning and her whole clan has gathered at the house where me and Isabella were supposed to get a good night’s sleep.
“Got it.” With exacto-knife, magnifying glass, and tweezers, I remove the GPS, no bigger than a tick.
Then, add a cartoon band-aid, kiss it, and check in with Slate who says the kids have all gone home.
It’s about sunrise when Lois pops some corn muffins out of the oven and says, “I still don’t understand.”
Her husband pats her mitted hand and places a checkered cloth at the bottom of a basket. “You remember how Izzy was? How she broke into that bank as a kid? It took all we could do to keep her locked up. The Feds wanted her real, real bad back then.”
Isabella’s mouth drops open as she stares at the group sitting at the table. “You guys never told me that.”
Josh throws his coat into a bedroom and returns to the boarded-up kitchen. “At the time, we didn’t dare. There were some real heavy-duty spooks sniffing around, wanting to take you off to Washington DC. None of us liked the smell of them so we made sure judge Ellis locked you up.”
“I thought… I thought you all gave up on me.” Big tears roll down her cheeks and it dawns on me that I still don’t know this young woman at all. She can brave through being shot at but cries to learn that her family always has had her back.
Josh’s cell phone rings and he curses. “They lost Cross near the border.”
“Are you fuc… Are you serious?” At my feeble attempt, Izzy’s mom nods at me with encouragement and I continue. “How the heck did Xavier get away?”
Josh scratches his beard, shaking his head, dark circles under his eyes. “The State Police thinks he got into Canada with a fake passport. They’re checking but still nothing. However, if he tries to get back into the US, we’ll get him.”
“Something doesn’t jive.”
Isabella swallows back some muffin with coffee. “I remember that first night. He said he wanted to come home.”
“What else did he say?”
“Nothing.” But she’s thinking something. I can tell by the way her eyes dart and her heel jiggles nervously, making her knee jump up and down.
I grab her hand, pull her out of her chair, and say to all, “Excuse us for a few. We need some air.”
Chairs scrape, people give their goodbyes, and of course, there’s more hugging. By the time we find our coats under the pile on our bed, only Lois and George remain.
“We’ll be right back.” I stop just outside the house and kiss Izzy. “I never want you to be in danger again. Scared the shit out of me.”
“Me too.” She touches a scratch near my eye, then her arms are around me, her head on my chest.
“Tell me what you were thinking in the kitchen, luv.”
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Don’t get pissed.”
“I’ll get damned pissed if I feel like getting pissed. We’ve been harassed, shot at, and the children in your family endangered. I need to know if there’s something, you’re not telling me.”
Her lower lip quivers as she toes a pebble on the street. “Those Houston boys were pretty serious about security. They said if I shared anything, they could put me in jail, seize my assets, even yours.”
The fact that someone else threatened her, supposedly the good guys, makes my blood boil even more than before. “The Houston Project? Is that what this is about?”
“Well, when you asked, that was the only other thing I could think of.”
We start walking again, then stop at the yellow blinking light and cross the empty street.
We window shop at the Dollar store for a few minutes, while I think. “I read the statement of work. It said you were staff augmentation.”
“That’s true but the other night, before our shower? I wanted to finish up the job and I figured out what they’re doing. It’s hard to explain but basically, they’re working on an anti-virus program.”
“What’s so special about that?” We start down the sidewalk and pass a Seven-Eleven and a gas station,
“It’s got some souped-up artificial intelligence and if I suspect a security breach, I’m supposed to call this number here.”
She hands me her cell phone, I press the number, and an automated voice plays, “Press 1 for pin reset, otherwise stay on the line and someone will help you.”
I’m put on hold and moments later an annoyed, sleepy male voice answers. “Yeah?”
“Patten here, of Patten Securities.”
Rustling happens in the background and the tone changes. “Yes, Mr. Patten. How can I help you?”
“We believe there may be a breach with the Houston Project.”
“Please, hang up and say no more.”
“Wait, we’re heading back to New York.”
“Understood.”
The phone line goes dead and Izzy touches my hand, “What did he say?”
“Just that he’ll contact us. Ready to go home?”
“Oh my God, yes. But… do you think my family will be safe?”
“Seriously?” I look at her like she’s lost a few marbles.
She grins. “They might be just a little over the top.”
“I’ll call Slate.”
“Wait, before we head home, there’s one more thing I have to do.”
My brows raise and I figure she needs some more Mom-time but instead she shocks me. “I need to talk to my cousin, Mike.”
I nod. After all that went down, she finally gets that her family won’t abandon her, no matter what.
I guess that means she’s ready.
Chapter 16
Isabella
Grayson holds my hand while the sun warms me through the front window. I’ve been sitting in Uncle George’s truck with my hand resting on the door handle for at least five minutes.
He leans over, cups my face, and kisses me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” For the hundredth time I envision what is going to happen when I walk into Mike’s trailer.
What if he denies everything?
“You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll come in with you.” Grayson latches his gaze onto mine and I breathe in the strength he offers.
“I got this. It can’t be worse than getting shot at.” I snort out a laugh as I push down on the lever, jump off the truck, and walk up the stone path.
Mike answers almost immediately when I knock, looking way too old for a guy only six years older than me. He’s got a military cut, weather-worn skin, and deep creases beside his eyes.
“Hey Bella, you look great.” He tries to take me into a hug but I pull away, sweat rolling down my sides.
“I, uh, we need to talk.”
“Yeah, sure.” The inside of his trailer is military neat with nothing personal anywhere, not even poster art. He moves the partially folded laundry off the kitchen table and lifts a pot of coffee.
“Want some?”
“Ah, yeah. Milk, cream if you have it.” My fingernails bite into my palms as my heart thumps out of control.
Mike places a thick white and blue mug on the table in front of me, then sits at the sixties, Formica-topped table. “Before you say anything, I want to tell you how really sorry I am.”
Wow.
My voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why i
n God’s name did you do it?”
“I was really messed up back then.”
“But I was only, like what? Ten?” Tears roll down my cheeks as I think of the betrayal, the childhood lost, the years of holding onto this horrible secret.
“I know, I know. But don’t you remember? You looked a lot older.”
I squeak out, “That makes it right?”
With elbows on the table, he buries his face in his hands. “No, no. You asked me why and I’m trying to explain, not excuse it. Shit. This is hard for me, too.”
He looks up, his eyes full of pain. “I was only twelve when I babysat you. Just two years older than you. I thought you were my girlfriend.”
Whoa. Stop. No. Oh fuck.
“Remember, Bella? I was big for my age and, hell, not all too bright and… there were drugs. My therapist said they did something to my inhibitions. I must’ve left you hundreds of messages but you refused to answer. Shit. I know I probably messed up your life and you got no reason to forgive me but I really, really am sorry.”
A crack appears in my pent-up anger allowing long-forgotten memories to flood into my brain. “My God, you were only a couple years older than me? I had no idea. Then, after that, you moved away…”
Oh fuck. He was young, much younger than I recalled. Somehow, I needed him to be older to make me feel less guilty, less complicit.
I’m sobbing as I walk over and hug him and we just bawl like that for a long time. It doesn’t change the fact that I was abused as a kid but just knowing the how and why of it gives me closure.
“Never think this is your fault, Isabella. It was all me.”
“All this time… I was so angry and now I’m just so damn sad. Our parents should have been watching us better.”
I want so badly to stay angry but it’s time to let go and be free. I stand and wave out the front door and Grayson waves back. “My fiancé is probably worried.”
Mike gives a weak wave, as well. “Does he know?”
I nod.
“Who else have you told?” Standing behind me, Mike’s voice is tense, maybe even angry but mine is even more so when I answer.
“No more secrets. That’s my deal. We’re going to let people know.” I turn to him and bravely stare until his gaze drops to the floor.
The CEO's Lucky Charm: A Billionaire Novella (Players Book 6) Page 8
