In Bed With the Billionaire

by Jackie Ashenden

  He certainly shouldn’t tell her the truth.

  But maybe one of those faint lines in the wet sand was deeper than he thought, because he found he just couldn’t do either of those things.

  “I’m going to destroy it,” he said hoarsely. “That’s what I’m doing. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past sixteen years. I built it up so I could pull it down. Every last bit of it.”

  She blinked, a crease deepening between her brows. “Destroy it? Destroy what?”

  He shouldn’t tell her. He really shouldn’t. It would put everything he’d worked for under threat. And yet he couldn’t let what she’d told him, the vulnerability she’d revealed, mean nothing.

  “Jericho’s empire.” The words were surprisingly easy to say, as if they’d been waiting in his mouth all this time. “I’m going to destroy Jericho’s empire.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As the black sedan drew up to the curb, Temple glanced out of the window at the packed Manhattan sidewalk, people rushing to and fro. The street a mass of parked cars and vans, taxis, and other traffic sounding their horns. People were shouting, and across the street, on the steps of the entrance to Bryant Park, a guy was holding up a sign and ranting about the end of the world.

  Typical New York in other words.

  She felt like it had been years since she’d been here, instead of only a couple of weeks. But then a lot had changed.

  Including you?

  She ignored that thought, the seat dipping as the man beside her leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Just park here. Do we have confirmation he’s inside?”

  “Gimme a minute, boss.”

  No, she hadn’t changed. Why would she? She was just the same.

  You’re not. Not after what he told you.

  Her throat tightened.

  She’d suspected something big was going on with him, she just hadn’t suspected the extent of it. The explanation he’d given her was bare bones, basically that he’d faked his own death then infiltrated one of the trafficking rings. Had risen up through the ranks to become Jericho, the spider at the center of the web. And all with the express intention of destroying that web.

  He hadn’t told her what was driving him, hadn’t told her how he was going to do it, but right at the moment, the fact that this was what he’d been doing all this time, the facade he’d been building for himself, was a little much to take in.

  She hadn’t been wrong when she’d suspected he was like her. That he had a mission he was on, a vitally important mission, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him. She just hadn’t guessed at how big, how wide, and how deep that mission went.

  He wanted to take down the whole fucking thing, not just a network here and there, not the odd crime organization being brought to justice, but everything and everyone. He wanted to obliterate the whole thing.

  It either made him mad or it made him a fucking genius.

  A tortured genius.

  He hadn’t mentioned what he’d had to do in order to infiltrate the network to the extent that he had. But she could guess. It made her wonder what kind of man he’d been when he’d first made the decision to walk the path he had, and how different he was now.

  Theo died a long time ago.

  The tight feeling in her throat tightened even more.

  Jesus. She had the feeling that the man who sat beside her now bore no resemblance to the man he once must have been, and no wonder. He must have had to sacrifice everything he was in order to become who he was now. How had he managed to even survive it?

  You know how.

  Anger. Pain. Those were the things that drove people to do things they’d never imagine they’d ever do. That pushed people beyond their own boundaries. At least those were the things that pushed her. Was it the same for him too? Was it anger and pain or something else?

  Unable to help herself, she flicked a glance at him.

  He was sitting back on the black leather of the seat, talking to someone on his phone. He hadn’t wanted to bring her, but she’d told him she was coming whether he wanted her to or not. She still didn’t know why.

  The look on his beautiful face was impenetrable, the black of his tailored business shirt and suit pants only highlighting the brilliant gold of his hair. He looked like some dark angel come back from hell.

  Something had motivated him to do this. Something had forced him hard along the path. And it had to have been pretty fucking powerful given everything he’d sacrificed to do it.

  An odd mix of emotions churned in her gut, so tangled she couldn’t even begin to figure them all out, just like she couldn’t figure out what she thought about his confession.

  One thing was clear though. He wasn’t who he said he was. He wasn’t the enemy.

  “I’ve told Dmitri to leave Violet alone,” he said as he ended his call, putting his phone into the pocket of his black suit jacket. “But to keep a watch on her.”

  A thread of relief wound through Temple’s gut. “What were you going to do to her anyway?” He’d never explained back in the house.

  “I was going to use her to ensure Hunt’s cooperation. At least, that was the plan.”

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re here then? What this meeting is all about?”

  He glanced at her, wariness flickering in his eyes, and hell, she got it. He’d been keeping this secret a long time and old habits died hard. If she got it in pieces, she got it in pieces.

  After a moment, he met the driver’s gaze in the rear-view mirror, and, without a word, the man got out.

  “Hunt is losing control of the various operations here,” Jericho said as the driver shut the door behind him. “And I can’t let that happen. It’s taken me years just to get the Europeans on board and if they find out that the markets here are at risk, they’re going to get cold feet. They’ll pull out of the alliances I’ve managed to build, and I can’t let them.”

  “Why not? Why do you need them?”

  “Because when I take down the whole operation, I want them all to go with it. And for that to happen, the end needs to be sudden and unexpected, leaving them with no time to protect themselves.” He ran a restless hand through his hair. “But if Hunt can’t stay in control of the networks here, they’ll lose confidence, maybe pull out altogether. And I can’t let that happen, not quite yet. I need to take charge before he fucks the whole thing up completely.”

  “So is that why you’re here? In the States? To take control of—” She stopped suddenly, as if she remembered something. “This is your father’s empire isn’t it?”

  The restlessness in him stilled, the look on his face hardening. But all he said was “Yes.”

  She studied him. She was getting closer, wasn’t she? Getting more personal, and he didn’t like it. Like her, he was used to protecting himself, keeping people out, not letting them in.

  It still terrified her in a way she wasn’t completely ready to admit that she’d told him all about her father. He hadn’t spoken of it since, and she was glad. She didn’t want to talk anymore about it. Didn’t want to disturb the tight little knot of shame that lurked deep inside her.

  God … did he have something similar inside him too? Was that why he kept her at a distance?

  “That’s why you’re doing it, isn’t it?” She let her gaze rove over his face, noting the tension in his muscles. He hadn’t moved his position, as if frozen into place. “It’s because of your father. Because of who he was.”

  “It doesn’t matter why.” There was a hard edge to his voice. A warning. “The only important thing is that at the end, the whole fucking thing is destroyed.”

  Maybe the whys didn’t matter. Maybe it was only the action that counted. But she wanted to know anyway. It made her feel less …

  Alone?

  Yeah, and what was wrong with that? They were so similar in so many ways, and that gave her comfort. She’d been alone a long time, so why shouldn’t she feel kinship with another person?

&nb
sp; With the man you were sent to kill? Who hurt Thalia? Sure, he’s not who you thought he was, but he still let something happen to her. She still disappeared into the network he created.

  Temple shoved the thought away. “No,” she said instead. “I suppose it doesn’t matter why in the greater scheme of things. But … right now, it matters to me.”

  He stared back at her, sun in his hair, shadows in his eyes. All black and gold, darkness and light, a visual representation of the man himself. There was nothing easy about him, nothing simple. Nothing black and white.

  If he’d been a villain through and through, it would have been so much easier. But he wasn’t a villain. He was a hero. A stained and blackened hero.

  At least his goal is a selfless one. Unlike yours.

  Her chest tightened. Another fucking thought that wouldn’t shut up. What the hell was wrong with her head?

  “It shouldn’t matter to you.” The hard edge in his tone had melted away, leaving only the black velvet of his voice. Soft and rough and gentle. “Don’t forget what I am, kitten. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “What you are? You’re a man on a mission, just like I am.”

  “I’ve done things—”

  “I’ve done things too. You know that.”

  He let out a long breath. “Why do you want to know? What possible difference could it make?”

  She had nothing to offer him but the truth. “Because it makes me feel less alone. Like I’m not the only one who has a journey to make.”

  Something crossed his face, a flash of that infinite weariness. “Temple…” He reached out a hand, gently brushed her cheek. “I’m not a man you want to get close to.”

  “I don’t want to get close to you. Maybe all I want is to understand.”

  His finger lingered on her cheekbone, his gaze moving over her as if he was memorizing her. “My father was a monster. And I … just want to make it right.”

  It was something. But it wasn’t the whole story, she was sure of it. “It’s more than that, though, isn’t it? He did something to you, didn’t he?”

  Jericho’s hand dropped from her cheek, though the warmth of his touch lingered. “Yeah, he did something. He made me into a monster too.” His mouth curved into that sad smile, the one that made her ache deep inside. “That’s why I have to follow this all the way to the end, that’s why I have to succeed. Because if I don’t, everything I’ve done will have all been for nothing.”

  The ache in her chest deepened. She’d taken lives. She’d killed people. Using the only skills she’d developed so she could earn money, so she could find Thalia. Take her revenge. But if she failed …

  You’d be a murderer for nothing, just like him.

  She couldn’t bear the look in his eyes, couldn’t deal with the sharp sadness that pierced her, so she glanced down at her folded hands instead. “So that’s it? You’re going to take control of this operation and then shut it down with all the rest? What’s Hunt going to think of that?”

  There was a brief silence.

  “Hunt will resist,” he said at last. “He doesn’t know what I’m planning, obviously.”

  “You should tell him.”

  Jericho gave a short laugh. “You really think that’s a good idea? He hates my guts.”

  She glanced at him. “Logically, you should have killed him and taken control yourself.”

  “Yeah, I should have.” This time there was no sadness in his smile, but something else. Warmth. “But someone made me believe that wasn’t the right thing to do.”

  She frowned. “What? Who?”

  “You.” For a second, the smile even touched his eyes, making the gold in them glow. “Violet is in love with this prick. Which means I can’t touch him, at least not without hurting her. And leaves me with only one option. I’m going to need to work with him to secure the networks so we can end it.”

  She was conscious of something shifting inside her, a subtle tremor like a small earthquake. She didn’t know quite what it meant, so she ignored it. “But … if Hunt hates your guts, how are you going to get him to do that?”

  His smile faded, and for some reason it felt as if the sunlight in the car had lost its warmth. “Well, that was where using Violet was going to come in. She’s important to him, so I was going to take her, make him think she was in danger, ensure his cooperation that way.”

  “And if you’re not going to do that now?”

  “Then we’ll have to think of something else.”

  She didn’t quite understand why she reached out, put her hand over his where it sat loosely on his thigh. Maybe it was only to feel the deep warmth of his skin against hers. Maybe it was something more. “Perhaps I can help.”

  He glanced down where their hands rested, his brow furrowing. But he didn’t pull away. “How?”

  An idea had begun to take shape. It was probably stupid and maybe it wouldn’t work, but if it could help him, then she had to try.

  What? You’re fucking helping him now?

  He wanted to take down the trafficking networks that had destroyed so many lives. Why wouldn’t she want to help? Of course, he could be lying just to lull her into a false sense of security, but she didn’t think so. He was telling the truth. The look in his eyes when he’d told her had been so raw there hadn’t been any room for doubt.

  What about Thalia? You have your own mission to accomplish.

  A filament of ice wound through her, pulling tight. She’d gotten so caught up in his confession and what that meant, she’d nearly forgotten the main reason she was here in the first place. Yes, those other women mattered, of course they did, and taking down the network was obviously important. But Thalia … If her sister was lost then everything, all the money she’d stolen, all the lives she’d taken, all the lines she’d crossed, would have been for nothing.

  Temple kept her hand on his. “I could be your collateral.”

  His dark gold brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

  “Give me to him as surety for your good behavior. A gesture of trust.”

  A fleeting expression crossed his face, so fast she couldn’t decipher it. But she thought it looked like anger. “And why would he accept that?” His voice was level, betraying nothing.

  She held his gaze. “He would if he thought I meant something to you. If he loves Violet, he’ll understand what kind of gesture you’re making.”

  Jericho’s gaze lowered once more to her hand where it rested on his. There was no expression at all on his face now. “You’re mine, kitten. And I don’t give up what’s mine.”

  A thrill shot down her spine, hot and raw, and she had to take a silent breath to get her heartbeat back under control again. Those words … Why did she like them so much? Why did she like feeling as if she was his?

  “I’ll be safe.” Slowly she interlaced her fingers with his. “You know I can look after myself.”

  Still he didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze on their linked fingers. “And what do you want in return?”

  The question hurt for some obscure reason. Almost as if she wanted him to believe that she’d offered to help because she cared. Because she wanted to do something for him, without strings, without wanting anything in return.

  But of course she couldn’t.

  Finding her sister was more important than anything.

  “I want you to tell me what happened to Thalia. I want to know where my sister is.”

  * * *

  He didn’t blame her for pushing. In her place he would have done the same. After all, if there was one thing he’d learned in the past sixteen years, it was that nothing was ever given for free in this world.

  So why do you want her to give you this now?

  No, it was better that she didn’t give him anything. She’d given too much away already.

  He pulled his hand away from hers. “If I give you that information now, there’s nothing stopping you from killing me right here.”

  Her gaze flicke
red. “I’ll … at least wait until after this is all over. How’s that?”

  “Is that a promise? Perhaps you’ll take this opportunity to escape.”

  “I could have escaped days ago. But I didn’t.”

  “Because you wanted the information. If I give it to you, there’s nothing to hold you here.”

  Again, that flicker in her eyes as if she was uncertain. Strange when determination had always radiated so strongly from her. “What about if I gave you my word?”

  “Maybe I should give you a contract instead. Isn’t that what assassins usually respect?” It was an asshole thing to say and he wasn’t quite sure why he’d said it. But he knew he’d hurt her in some way when color rose in her cheeks.

  “Theo—”

  “No. What did I tell you about that fucking name?” He pulled out his phone. Fuck, it was after nine already. Hunt would be there waiting. Which meant he had to deal with this fast.

  He was going to have to give her the information. There simply wasn’t another option that didn’t involve some kind of coercion. Hunt felt something for Violet, of that he was certain, and the guy would take Temple if he knew she was important to him. He couldn’t think of another way to get the man’s trust.

  Scrolling through some icons on the screen, Jericho called up the document he’d downloaded into his online storage account before Temple had found him in his office that morning. Taken from information stored around seven years earlier.

  Records of a “shipment” of “choice stock,” taken from New York and shipped to Germany. There were no names, because their names weren’t important, but there were pictures. And one of those pictures was of a freckled, red-haired girl with hazel eyes. There was no mistaking the resemblance. It was Temple’s sister.

  He’d never forgotten that girl. He’d just taken over as Jericho and not wanting to make too many changes too quickly, he’d had to keep up that old bastard’s Saturday habit of choosing a girl for the night from the best of the “shipment.” She’d been among the girls paraded in front of him, and he’d found he couldn’t look away from her.