In Bed With the Billionaire

by Jackie Ashenden

Gold flames leaped in his gaze, and he reached suddenly for her hand, his fingers closing around her wrist like an iron manacle. “I say when it’s enough, angel. Not you.”

  She didn’t move, and she didn’t look away. “You really want to fight me on this? You know I’ll win.”

  He smiled, the edge of savagery to it that never failed to make her breathless. “Will you, angel? Will you really?” And gently, but very firmly, he brought her hand down and put it behind her, holding it down in the small of her back, forcing her against him.

  She shivered. Fuck, she loved it when he got all Dom on her. But still, she meant what she said. There had been too much death in this whole situation as it was. Did there really need to be any more?

  “Don’t make me say the safe word.”

  “What? You’re really going to safe out on me now?”

  “I mean it, asshole. Too many people have died already and too many people have been hurt. People we know. This won’t help anything. It’s just more fucking violence, and, quite frankly, I’ve had enough of that.”

  His smile faded and a tender look crossed his face, the look he only ever saved for her. “Angel, I’m sorry. But … I have no limits when it comes to protecting you.”

  Her heart tightened. “I know. But, my love, I think on this occasion, you need to have at least one.” Slowly she raised herself on her toes, pressed her mouth to his, and whispered against his lips. “Safe word, Zac. Void.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jericho sat in the darkness and stared at the computer screen in front of him. He’d always been afraid that when the time came to finally press the button on everything he’d built over the past sixteen years, he wouldn’t be able to do it. That he’d want to keep what he’d built. Or maybe even hesitate, have some sliver of regret at taking down the entire framework of his life.

  What life?

  Yeah, well, that was the fucking point, wasn’t it? What he had wasn’t a life. It had never been a life. And even before this, when he was his father’s good little puppet, doing everything the old man said, what he’d had was a part. A role to play.

  Nothing had ever been his. Nothing had ever been his choice. In fact, he could count on one hand the times in his life he’d ever had a choice about what he wanted to do.

  Such as the moment he’d decided that there was only one way he could stop what his father was doing. And right now, the choice to send all the information he had to the authorities.

  And Temple.

  His heart clenched tight at the thought.

  Yes, Temple had been a choice. Right from the moment he’d first seen her twisting around that pole. A choice he’d made for himself, not for any other reason. Because he’d wanted her, the first choice he’d made that wasn’t about fixing his own fucking mistakes. The first choice that had been for himself. And so he’d made her his, the only thing he’d ever had that was his and his alone.

  A choice that had brought both of them nothing but pain.

  I’m scared …

  He closed his eyes, the memory of her face burned forever in his brain. The look in her eyes as he’d pressed her up against the walls of his office. As he’d pushed inside her, felt her body grip him tight. As the pleasure began to overwhelm them both, her golden gaze going molten, burning with desire and need, and yes, fear.

  He knew what she meant. He knew what she was talking about. Because he felt it too, and, yeah, it scared the shit out of him, as well.

  Falling for her wasn’t supposed to be part of the choice he’d made, and yet it had happened all the same. Fuck, if he’d had any choice about that, he’d have made a different one.

  Opening his eyes, he stared at the screen once more. The time up in the corner read 2 A.M.

  She’d be asleep in his bed, at least he hoped she’d be asleep. He hadn’t seen her all day, closeting himself in his office the moment he’d gotten the text from Hunt to say some information had been sent through to him via an anonymous email address that had been re-routed several times.

  The attached files had been heavily encrypted, but another email from another address had sent him a program he could use to decrypt them. And as soon as he had, he’d known that everything he’d been working toward, everything he’d been slowly building for so many years, was finally drawing to a close.

  There were his father’s records—not all of them it was true—but there was enough information in the ones he had, not to mention the intel that Hunt had already sent him, to bring down the entirety of the U.S. trafficking networks.

  There was only one little problem with it, a problem so small it wasn’t even worth worrying about.

  In sending all that information to the authorities, he would also reveal his own involvement. Because he was the one who’d set those records up in the first place.

  It didn’t matter. It didn’t make any difference.

  All it would mean would be the revelation that Theodore Fitzgerald had been part of his father’s empire. And that maybe that was the motivation behind his suicide.

  You’re forgetting Violet.

  Yeah, that would hurt her. That would hurt her a lot. And there would be media interest once all this came out. She would be targeted by the press, no doubt, her father and brother both turning out to be part of a nationwide human trafficking ring.

  It couldn’t be helped. This was the only way to make sure the people involved were brought to justice and that the trafficking rings were smashed the fuck to hell, everyone caught in them freed.

  Violet would cope, she would have to. At least this time she wouldn’t have to do it alone. As much as he didn’t like the prick, she did have Hunt at her side, and he was one bad motherfucker to cross. He would protect her, keep her safe.

  Reaching for his phone, Jericho picked it up and typed out a quick message to Hunt. It would be early morning in New York, but he was sure the guy would see it pretty much immediately.

  When this hits, Violet will become a press magnet. Take her away somewhere safe.

  He waited a moment and sure enough, his phone vibrated a second later with a message from Hunt. What aren’t you telling me?

  Astute prick, wasn’t he?

  What makes you think that? Jericho texted back.

  Because you know I’ve already got Violet covered, Hunt responded.

  Jericho sat back in his chair, the only light in the room the glow from his computer screen and the screen in his hand. Had the guy not seen the records he’d just sent? Had anyone seen them? Maybe they had, maybe that was the real reason Rutherford was after his blood.

  My name is in there, he texted. Long story, but Theo will be implicated when this hits the media. Tell Violet that I’m making it right.

  There was a pause. Then the screen lit up again with Hunt’s answer. Tell her yourself.

  Jericho stared at the screen for a long moment. Then he turned the phone off and put it back on his desk.

  No, he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be telling Violet anything.

  He looked back at his computer screen.

  Sixteen years he’d spent working to become the head of hell, making alliances, uniting various different networks, bringing all the devils together using the promise of money and power, and when that didn’t work, violence. Years gathering the information he needed and secreting away where no one would find it. Information paid for in blood by people who’d died to get it to him.

  He hadn’t known it would take that long when he’d first begun. When he’d first walked into that strip club in Atlanta, just one part of his father’s empire, and asked for a job as a bouncer. His very first step into the world that would bring him to this point.

  He’d thought it would take him a couple of years at most. But it hadn’t been a couple of years. In fact, it hadn’t been until he’d worked there a year that he realized the magnitude of what he’d taken on. And what he would have to do in order to finish it. What it would take from him in the end.

  Too much. It had
taken too much.

  The email glowed on his screen, the first of many he would send over the course of the night and all with attachments, proof of his claims. It wasn’t going to go just to the relevant authorities either, it would also go to the world’s media as a safeguard. Especially because some of those relevant authorities would be implicated too. And he should know; he’d paid some of them himself to turn a blind eye.

  By tomorrow, everyone would know.

  By tomorrow, all of this would be over.

  Who knew, that right at the end, it would be so fucking easy?

  He didn’t want to keep what he’d built, and he felt no regret. All he wanted was for this all to end.

  Without any hesitation he reached out and pressed the button.

  And sent the first email.

  * * *

  Temple woke with a start. The room was in darkness, completely silent, nevertheless she knew something had woken her. An intruder of some kind. Her body coiled into instant readiness, her senses already trying to make sense of the darkness around her.

  A low, sensual laugh came from down the end of the bed. “I should have known I could never surprise you.”

  The shadows resolved themselves into the shape of a man. And there was only one man who had that kind of laugh.

  Theo.

  Slowly she sat up, a strange foreboding clutching deep inside her.

  She’d gone to sleep in his arms after spending most of the previous day alone since he’d been secreted in his office all day doing God alone knew what. Except even though he hadn’t told her, she could guess what he was doing: preparing to take down the empire he’d built.

  Then much later he’d come to her that night, taking her hard and rough and desperate. As if he was trying to escape something. She hadn’t asked him what was wrong, hadn’t pushed him to share. Mostly because some part of her didn’t want to know. Just like it didn’t want to know now.

  She swallowed. “What is it?’

  “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  The expression on his face was impossible to read in the shadows of the room, his voice not giving anything away. But she knew it wasn’t going to be good. That nothing that happened from here on would be good.

  He held out his hand, and the foreboding inside her deepened.

  Don’t go. Don’t go with him.

  “What are you doing, Theo?”

  “You’ll see. Come on, kitten.”

  Refusing would be cowardly, and she wasn’t a coward, so she slid naked from the bed, reaching for the T-shirt of his he’d left on the floor and slipping it over her head. Then she took his hand, his warm fingers closing around hers.

  She should have asked him what he’d been doing all day. She should have tried to find out. But … she was afraid.

  Weren’t you supposed to not be a coward?

  The heavy thing in her chest, the feeling that had frightened her so much at the club, shifted like the earth subsiding after an earthquake. It was a horrible feeling. God, she hated being afraid, hated feeling powerless, but the stone sitting just inside her ribs was making her feel both those things, and she really didn’t know how to deal with it.

  Her heart hammering for no good reason she could see, Temple followed him out of the bedroom and down the hallway to his office.

  The lights were on, glaring in their brightness, hurting her eyes. She blinked as Theo dropped her hand and went around the big dark oak desk, sitting himself in the chair behind it.

  He wore what she was coming to think of as his usual Jericho uniform, dark suit pants and a business shirt with the sleeves rolled up, no tie, and the top few buttons undone. Today his shirt was a pristine white. With his dark suit pants, it made him look ascetic as a monk.

  Except no monk had a face like a fallen angel or green-gold eyes so sharp they could cut you in two. No monk had a mouth that could make you get down on your knees to beg for a taste or a voice that you’d sell your soul to hear.

  Her throat was tight, the feeling something bad was going to happen getting stronger. “What’s happening, Theo?”

  He had that smile on his face, the terrible one that was regret and sadness and understanding all rolled into one. “I think you know.”

  Oh Christ. She struggled to keep her breathing even. “Elijah got you the information you wanted?”

  “He did.” Theo’s gaze dropped briefly to the computer screen in front of him. “I’m just in the middle of sending as many emails as I can to various authorities, plus the world’s media.” He glanced back at her, and amusement entered that terrible smile. “Tomorrow’s going to be one hell of a day for a great many people.”

  She swallowed. “So … you did it.”

  “I did,” he said slowly. “I really did.”

  “This is the end?”

  “Yes.” A small hesitation, his smile turning bittersweet. “In more ways than one.”

  “Theo—”

  “I estimate I have about an hour before people start realizing what’s happening. And then probably my IP address will be traced since I’m not trying to hide it, which means people will be coming here.”

  Her heartbeat was accelerating, and she didn’t know why. “Then … then we should go, we should get out—”

  “Jericho will be found shot dead in his office.”

  The words fell across her, heavy and final, like skyscrapers collapsing.

  She blinked at him, not understanding. “W-what?”

  His smile was fading, the sun disappearing behind a cloud. The sun disappearing forever. “Jericho needs to die, kitten. He can’t survive.”

  “You mean, you need someone to be Jericho so you can get away? That’s what you’re talking about, right?”

  But of course it wasn’t. And she knew that deep in her heart.

  “I mean I need to die, Temple,” he said with such hideous gentleness that she wanted to scream.

  She was already shaking her head. “No. No, Theo. No, you don’t.”

  Yet he only looked at her. “It was always the way it was going to end. It’s the way it has to end.” He shifted, pulling open a drawer in the desk and taking out a gun. A Glock. He put it on the desk and pushed it over toward her. “You have a contract to fulfill, Temple. A revenge to take. Now’s your chance.”

  The heavy feeling in her chest began to seep down through her, spreading everywhere, turning her to stone. There was a roaring in her ears, and she couldn’t seem to breathe.

  His green eyes held hers, unflinching. “I think I can guess what Zac promised you. Not just money right?” Without taking his eyes off her, he reached for the manila folder that also was resting on the desk top and pushed that next to the gun. “I did some searching yesterday. Inside the folder is everything I could find about Thalia, including her address. She’s living in Minnesota. Shouldn’t be too hard to get there.”

  Her lungs felt like they were encased in concrete, her throat so tight it was like she was being strangled.

  “I don’t want you to give me anything, Temple,” Theo went on softly. “You can take Thalia’s address right now and leave. But … I’d like your face to be the last thing I see.”

  As if someone had punched her straight in the center of her chest, air suddenly filled her lungs, sharp as an electric shock, making her take a harsh, rushing breath.

  I’d like your face to be the last thing I see …

  “No.” The word was explosive, echoing around the room. And she was walking, striding up to the desk, propelled by that terrible, infinite heaviness that was weighing her down, that filled her so she could barely speak. She slapped her hands down hard on the dark oak surface. “No. You’re not … You’re not fucking dying. Where the hell did you get that idea from?”

  He didn’t look away, and the expression on his face held all the fierce, determined will that she knew was part of him. The will that had kept him going for sixteen years. “Do you know what Hunt sent me? Records from my father’s compute
r that somehow Eva managed to decrypt. Emails, spreadsheets, names. It’s all there. Everything, including my name.”

  A sliver of ice slid down her spine. “What do you mean including your name?”

  “My name is there in those files because I was the one who set up those records in the first place.”

  “But—”

  “I told you I helped him,” he went on remorselessly. “I told you I was part of turning his business into such a fucking success. I helped him build the fucking thing, make it better, more profitable, and those records were part of it.”

  Her voice seized. She couldn’t speak.

  “What I’m saying,” he said, gentling his voice. “Is that even if I live through this, my options are limited. I could reveal my identity, turn myself in, go to jail. Or I could risk one of my former ‘colleagues’ hunting me down and taking their revenge.” He paused again. “Or you could pick up that gun and … set me free.”

  She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear the expression in his eyes, so she looked down at the gun sitting on the desk between them, dull silver and lethally gleaming. The outlines of it were blurring slightly, and her cheeks felt wet.

  Fuck, was she crying?

  She blinked hard, but the blurriness didn’t go away and neither did the tears.

  Set me free.

  “No,” she said hoarsely. “No. That’s not what … I can’t … No.”

  “Yes.” His voice was so soft, so terrible in its certainty. “I’m tired. I’m just … so fucking tired. It’s been sixteen years, and I can’t do it anymore. I want it to end, I want it to be over.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, and that was weird because she thought she’d cried all the tears she had after Thalia had gone. But no, apparently there were more. A lot more.

  She didn’t want to look at his face because she knew what she’d see there. The weariness that went deeper than merely physical. An exhaustion that went soul-deep.

  You knew what it meant the first time you saw it. You just didn’t want to think about it.

  Because if she’d thought about it, she’d have to wonder why it bothered her so much. Why it made grief choke her. Why it scared her when nothing else did.