Ruthless (Fractured Farrells: A Damaged Billionaire Series Book 1)

by Mallory Crowe

  Jean wouldn’t be happy to see him, but she’d get over it. She needed him, no matter what she thought. At least until this blew over. He got into a cab and took out his phone, calling the only person he knew who might figure out who wanted her dead.

  Colin had been so convinced it was one of the brothers. Even if all the pieces didn’t fit into place, the family was just so damaged, the idea of them killing one another for no good reason didn’t surprise him at all.

  Smith answered on the second ring. “Where the hell have you been? Didn’t you get my emails?”

  Colin was quiet for a moment as his words sunk in. “Emails? If you find something, you call me, Smith, do you understand? Everything is high priority!” The cab driver gave Colin an angry look and Colin just glared at him.

  “Wow...sorry, man. I just wanted you to know that I was able to figure out the name of the guy from yesterday. The one who got hit by the car.”

  “You ID’d him? How?”

  “Let’s just say that a few HIPPA laws were broken. I got his name from the medical file at the hospital. You mentioned his family was threatened, so I was able to track down that he has a mother and sister in Arkansas. That must be who he meant, since he’s never been married, no kids and his father’s been in prison since the eighties, serving a life sentence for a murder charge.”

  “You said Arkansas? Where in Arkansas?”

  “Brentwood.”

  That town was right down the highway from where Jean had been born and raised. So if this thug was connected to Jean’s hometown, that meant whoever hired him probably was too. Except no one knew who Jean was. No one except her mother, who didn’t have any money. If anything, her mother was in debt to...

  The realization hit him like a punch to the face. Eric Nasser. Katherine owed him thousands of dollars. It would probably be easy for Eric to get her to spill about her daughter’s true paternity. From there, Eric did what he had to do to make sure Katherine inherited all that money. He’d either straight up take it from Katherine or wait for her to gamble it all away to him anyway.

  Either way, getting Jean out of the way would be the most profitable move he ever made. And now Jean was going to be in his town all alone.

  Colin hung up on Smith as he leaned forward. “I need to get to the airport now.”

  Jean fell into her bed, completely defeated. After the airport, the flight, and then having to get a cab to drive her from the airport to her trailer, she was completely drained. Every second since she left, she kept on replaying the past few days in her mind. Every lie, subtle and outright, that Colin had told her. Every single time she’d convinced herself it was okay to get close. That maybe even if he was an ass, he was her ass and she was okay with that.

  How many other women had told themselves the same thing? Thinking the guy would be different with them. She hadn’t even been that stupid with Mark. Sure, he’d been a jerk, but she knew he’d be a jerk to her. She’d just assumed that she could change to tolerate him.

  Colin had been...different.

  Jean pushed her head into her pillow as the sobs shuddered through her. She hated crying. She’d always prided herself on how she hardly ever would cry, but it seemed as if these tears wouldn’t stop. Not any cute little tears creeping out the corner of an eye. Body wrenching, ugly sobs that would leave her sore for a week. By some stroke of luck, there had been an empty row on the plane home, so she’d been able to wallow in her self-pity mostly alone, but now there was no one around. No reason to keep herself together.

  So she let herself cry. Every kiss, every smile, every laugh...they all played in a superfast unending loop in her mind, each one more painful than the last.

  A pounding on her door made her put an early stop to her own personal pity party. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Luckily she’d never had a chance to put any makeup on, so at least she knew there wasn’t mascara streaked across her cheeks, but the redness and puffiness were unconcealable at this point.

  But she didn’t care. So what if whoever was trying to get her attention at this time of night knew she was having a shitty day? It wasn’t as if she could be any more embarrassed than she already was.

  She couldn’t say she was surprised when she opened her door and saw her mother, but at this point, the president himself could be standing in front of her and she wouldn’t care.

  “I’m not in the mood,” she warned Katherine even as she stepped away from the entrance to fall onto the couch and hug a pillow to her middle.

  Katherine stepped inside slowly. Hesitantly. Which made Jean immediately aware that she was feeling guilty for something.

  “Anything you want to tell me, Mom?” Hell, might at least give the woman one last chance to come clean. She even wore her guilty mother clothes. Katherine seemed to have two types of outfits: Her normal, show as much skin as possible so every eye will be on her outfits. And then there was her guilt-ridden, cover every inch of skin until Jean will think I’m sincere looks.

  Katherine wrapped her arms around herself, and Jean had to admit that she felt bad for the woman. This wasn’t an easy admission and it wasn’t on her terms. Not bad enough to let this go, though. “Why don’t you start by telling me about my real father?”

  Katherine nodded as she sat next to Jean on the couch. “Walter was...a mistake. I was impressed with his money and he did have a certain charisma. And when you came along, I knew he’d never be a true father.”

  “So you didn’t even try to get child support?” Guilt washed over Katherine’s face and Jean suddenly remembered who she was talking to. Katherine always needed money and would get it any way possible. “You did get money from him, didn’t you?”

  “He gave us some. Not nearly as much as he could’ve, but he gave me a one-time payment.”

  “Gave us? Did Grandma ever see any of this?” Jean knew she should be angry. Screaming, pacing, furious. But she just stared at her mother dispassionately. Trying to convince herself that she expected any better from the woman who was supposed to love her unconditionally.

  “I gave Momma some.”

  But not all. The words were unspoken but painfully obvious. “So when you went to New York to try to get more from Walter, he sent Colin to tell you off.”

  “I don’t know what you know about that man, but he’s the scariest person I’ve ever seen in my life, Jean.”

  “Yeah, yeah, he’s an ass. I get it.” One more person who didn’t tell her who she truly was. Jean held the pillow tighter to her stomach. Half of her wanted to go back to bed, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Maybe it was a good thing Katherine was there. Some sort of strange distraction. “How did you know I was even here?” Jean hadn’t told anyone she was on her way back and she’d gone straight from the airport here. Sure, her neighbors probably noticed a cab pulling in at ten at night, but they weren’t the type to call and report her actions to her mother.

  “I was at Ron’s when Stan came running in to tell Eric you were here.”

  Jean stiffened. “Why the hell does Eric care if I’m back in town?”

  Katherine shrugged, obviously not too concerned. “I don’t know. People like you. Striker has been complaining all week about his best waitress leaving him high and dry. Everyone’s happy you’re back. I’m happy you’re back.” Katherine set a hand on Jean’s leg and gave a gentle squeeze.

  “But Eric shouldn’t care about me being back.” Jean rubbed at her eyes as she tried to force her mind to make some sort of sense through the strange haze she was in. Did that mean Eric had people watching her trailer?

  Katherine stood, pulling Jean from her thoughts. “I need to leave. I picked up a few late-night cleaning shifts with Molly’s company and she told me I couldn’t be late again.”

  Jean nodded, happy that her mother was working while still disturbed by the idea of Eric watching her. “Okay. We’ll talk more about the whole Walter...thing later.”

  “I’m glad you’re back, sweetie.” Katherine crossed to the door
and left.

  Jean stayed on the couch as she heard Katherine’s old Ford start up and drive off. It wasn’t until a good thirty seconds later that she was able to get up and grab her phone. The battery had died during the flight, even in airplane mode, because she’d been too distracted the night before to charge the thing.

  It took a minute for the newly plugged in phone to get enough charge to start. She tapped her thumb on the table as she waited. If Eric was watching her, that meant he wanted something from her. She’d already given him a bunch of money... The only reason he’d still be paying attention was because he wanted more. Except Katherine wasn’t exactly subtle when she needed something.

  The whole thing was just...uncomfortable. As much as she wanted to stay as far from Colin as possible, she’d assumed that the dangers of the city would stay in the city. But what if the trouble wasn’t from New York? What if it had followed her there?

  Her phone came back on and every notification possible went off. Colin, Nathan, Robert: they’d all been calling, texting, and there were voicemails galore. Before Jean could even figure out who to call first, her phone rang in her hand.

  Colin. She wished she could say it was easy, but for a few rings she really thought about not answering. Her life could be on the line, but her pride was just so damn hurt that she wanted to curl into a ball and never deal with this again.

  But logic won out as she clicked the connect button. “Hello?” she croaked into the phone, her voice sore from all the crying.

  “Jean! God, I’ve been calling you all day. Where are you? Eric Nasser is the one who’s after you. You need to stay put. I’m leaving the airport right now. I’m coming to you.”

  Jean turned to look at her door. Colin was here? Coming here now? “I know about Eric. I mean, I didn’t know, but something was up. He had someone watching my trailer and I guess they ran off to let him know I’m here. He knows where I am, Colin.”

  Colin cursed on the other end of the line. “Stay there,” he warned. “Get away from the windows. I want you to grab your shotgun and make sure you’re in a section of the trailer you can defend. Back to a wall so you can shoot anyone coming after you. Is there a trailer or crawlspace hatch you can use if you need to?”

  She scanned her home, trying to see it from a tactical perspective instead of the safe haven it had always been. “Um...I can get to the roof from the bedroom.”

  “Go there. Make sure you have your shotgun and extra shells. Put your back to the wall and just wait.”

  She started to unplug her phone and then realized it still only had one percent charge. She unplugged the charger and quickly did what Colin said, grabbing her gun and extra ammunition. She ran into her bedroom and slid into the back corner. Her back was to the wall, and the only way in was through the bedroom door in front of her.

  Jean looked for an outlet to plug her phone in, but there was nothing on this side of the room. The other end of the bed, the one with all the outlets, was blocked by a bunch of dressers so she wouldn’t have a clear view of the door. “My phone is about to die.” Panic crept in. No. Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. All she had to do was hang tight until Colin got there. For all she knew, Eric wasn’t even planning on paying her a visit any time soon. This was all one big overreaction.

  “I’m almost there.” Colin’s voice was the cool, calm tone she wanted to hear. “Just relax and wait for me. If anyone corners you, fire as many times as you can, reload, fire twice and then make a run for the exit. I’ll be there—”

  He cut off as the phone powered down and became completely useless to her. Hell, maybe she could just throw it at someone who broke in. She let out a bitter laugh at the silly thought even as she set the phone down so she could grip the gun tightly, resting the butt against her shoulder as she waited for Colin.

  Probably would be a good idea to avoid shooting him, though. As angry as she was, she wasn’t to the point of filling him up with buckshot. After a few minutes, the gun felt heavier and some of the tension had eased from her body. Maybe this really was an overreaction. Colin would be here any minute, and then he could deal with this. He could deal with this while sleeping on the couch.

  Actually, she could probably climb over the bed to plug in her phone. Then she could know when—

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

  Jean was immediately back into position, the gun firmly against her shoulder. Her mother didn’t knock like that. And Colin...somehow she figured he’d be more likely to bust down the door. Or at least call her name so she’d know it was him.

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

  Each of the loud bangs caused a tremor of fear to race through her.

  She repeated the steps Colin had given her: shoot everything, reload, shoot a little, get the hell out. She repeated it three more times and reached out to grab her extra shotgun shells so they’d be ready to go.

  The trailer shuddered as the sound of wood and plastic breaking echoed through the quiet building. Shit. They were inside.

  Jean tried to keep the gun steadily aimed at the door but knew she shook too much. That was the good thing about buckshot. Your aim didn’t have to be exact to hit something.

  “Jean?” called a masculine voice. She tried to place it. She knew she’d heard it before. “Jean, we need to talk. Come out here.”

  Stan. One of Eric’s men. She was going to shoot Stan. Damn. She’d never shot anyone before. What if she hesitated too long? What if she killed him? Maybe she should hide in her closet and hope that he was too stoned to look for her well.

  His footsteps creaked through the trailer, and she heard another set too. Two strange men in her home. Looking for her.

  No hiding today. Shoot everything. Reload. Shoot half. Run. She could do this.

  The door to her bathroom opened and shut. Which meant her bedroom was next. “Jean?” said Stan from her doorway.

  As confident as she’d been, she did hesitate when she saw the dark form silhouetted against the entry to her bedroom. She knew this guy. She’d gone to school with him. But then the light hit his cold eyes and she didn’t hesitate anymore. She pulled the trigger. After she fired once, Stan leaped back and away from the door, but she didn’t waver from her instructions.

  Her Remington 870 held five shells, and she cocked back the rack, fired, cocked back the rack, fired and did it two more times until it was empty. Now with her adrenaline flowing and nerves at an all-time high, she reloaded the gun faster than she ever had in her life, sliding the five shells in place and cracking the shotgun back into firing position. The moment she started to hear movement again, she fired off two rounds before she jumped to action.

  Holding the gun firmly in one hand, she climbed on the bed and used the tip of the gun to open the ceiling hatch. She was able to grab onto the sides of the hatch after she threw the shotgun on the roof and used the headboard to give her leverage to climb up.

  She heard movement behind her but didn’t stop to look. As soon as she was on the roof, she let a moment of terror take over. What did she do now? She didn’t have her keys with her, and she didn’t know where to run. Eric had half the people in town in his back pocket. There was no one she could trust.

  But before she went anywhere, she needed to get off this damn trailer. There was a ladder on the side, but she’d have to walk across the entire roof to make it, and by then all the guys would know exactly where she was. Instead, Jean took her chances and lay down on the roof. She let herself slide off slowly, feet first. Once she had to use both hands to keep herself from falling, she let the shotgun drop, wincing as she heard it hit the dirt. Luckily it didn’t go off, and she let out a sigh of relief, but there was no time to savor any of these victories.

  She needed to put as much distance between these guys and her as possible. She slid until her fingertips held her on the roof and there was only a five-foot drop between her and the ground. Taking a breath, she let go, softly landing on her feet.

  Okay. And now she could run. She r
eached down to grab her shotgun when thick arms grabbed her from behind. She immediately started to scream, but her mouth was covered until all she could do was struggle and flail in her attacker’s arms. She kept on trying to scream as she kicked and thrashed her head back and forth until she realized the guy was trying to talk to her.

  Not just any guy. Colin. The fight left her body in one big whoosh as she relaxed against him, never expecting to feel so happy to have his arms around her again.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly into her ear. “I’ve got you. It’s all going to be okay.”

  She was still trying to catch her breath as her heart pounded against her ribs. “Colin,” she breathed.

  He reached down to grab the shotgun and took her hand in his. “Come on.”

  She didn’t even think about questioning his order. Her feet automatically followed as he led her to some shiny black sedan. Probably a rental, but she couldn’t tell the make or model with the way her mind was working.

  He opened the driver’s side door and ushered her in. “Here are the keys.” He set the keys in her hand. “I’ll be right back. If you see any sign of trouble, take off. If you think you’re in danger at all, take off. Keep these doors locked to everyone except me, got it?”

  She nodded, trying to figure out what was going on. “You’re not coming with me?”

  He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right back. I just need to take care of something.” He pushed the door shut and walked back to her trailer.

  Jean set the keys into the ignition and waited. She tried to hear something, anything to give her some idea of what was happening, but wasn’t about to try to roll down her windows. How could the night go from the banging of shotguns and the rapid pounding of her heart to the silence of sitting in a brand new car?

  She held the steering wheel tightly, her hands at the ten and two position, hoping that if she gripped it tight enough the shaking would stop.