Taken: Saved by the Billionaire Bad Boy

by Audrey Alexander

  Taken

  Saved by the Billionaire Bad Boy

  Audrey Alexander

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  29. Three Months Later

  Chapter One

  Franklin

  I’d never been attracted to the glamorous lifestyle that the men in my family liked to lead, but I was getting increasingly pissed off about the aura of shit my life had taken on in the past year. Except for the brief respite when I’d worked for Jace Holt, all I knew now were hard hotel mattresses, moldy showers that ran hot one minute and then cold the next, and a dark cloud of loneliness that followed me wherever I went. I’d forgotten what it felt like to call a place home. That’s what happens to a man on the run. The only thing that starts to feel familiar is the road.

  That and the haze of alcohol-induced sleep. No matter how small and how remote the place, I could always find one local bar full to the brim every night with men like me. Lonely bastards whose life had slipped away from them, searching for some kind of escape. Sometimes there were women, too, but they were a rare sight, and usually not the kind of girls I like to get involved with.

  It had been too damn long since I’d had a woman in my arms.

  Sighing, I flicked my fingers at the bartender. He strode over to me and lifted his eyebrows, thick and bushy like his beard. “Another one?”

  I gave a nod and waited while he poured another shot of whiskey. It was my drink of choice. The cheap kind burned my throat, like what they had here, but that was how I liked it. There wasn’t much these days to remind me I was alive, and while the booze numbed my brain, it made my body buzz with an electricity I rarely felt anymore.

  “Here you go, man.” The bartender slid the drink across the stained oak surface. “Listen, where you from? I’ve never seen you around these parts before.”

  I tried to remember where I was this time. Somewhere deep in the South. Mississippi or Tennessee, maybe. Someplace called Carlsville.

  “I’m from a lot of places,” I said, tipping the whiskey down my throat. It was harsh, trailing fire down into my belly. My skin began to buzz, the way it did after I’d had a few shots. It reminded me of my old life, the one I’d been chased out of, and the way I used to have a drink or two before a big assignment in order to calm my nerves. “I’m from nowhere.”

  The bartender barked out a laugh. “I see. Well, you sure as hell don’t sound like you’re from here.”

  No, that much was true. I was letting myself get too lax if I wanted to slide around unnoticed. I put on my best Southern drawl and slid the empty shot glass across the bar. “Well, ya’ll don’t seem too busy. How about another drink?”

  The bartender blanched at the sudden change in my voice, and I had to stop the smirk from cresting my lips. I still had it. After all this time, my accent skills were still on point. I needed to remember that if I wanted to blend in. If someone came behind me, looking for a scowling tattooed guy from the northeast, I didn’t want to make it easy for them to sniff out my trail.

  I already stood out without bringing attention to the fact I was an outsider. At six foot four, I towered over most people. And when I wore t-shirts, my intricate tattoo sleeves caught most people’s eyes. Add in a northern accent in these very southern states, and I stuck out like a very sore thumb.

  The bartender poured the shot and handed it over before moving down the bar to a shouty old man who was sloshing a pint of beer. The gray-haired hunched figure was alone, just shouting to himself about crooked politicians and global warming. That could be me in forty more years of this lonely rambling lifestyle. Sighing, I swirled the shot glass and watched the dark liquid spin. It looked like a whirlpool, the kind that would pull everything down into its depths. That was what my life felt like right now, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  I didn’t yet know how I could change the course my life had gone. It had been taken from me, and I had no idea how to get it back.

  As I took the last shot of whiskey, the front door of the bar slammed open, letting in a gust of wind from the storm raging on outside. Hurricane Lucy had trampled the Eastern seaboard, and while Tennessee was landlocked, it was still getting leftovers from the storm’s wrath.

  I twisted my head over my shoulder to check out the newest arrival. It was something I always did. I hated having someone at my back I couldn’t see. My glance caught on a thin yet curvy female figure, a shivering girl with wet hair clinging to her stark white face. She trembled as she glanced around the bar and hugged her arms around her body. She wasn’t wearing a coat, which struck me as odd on such a cold and rainy night, but it wasn’t any of my damn business.

  I’d learned not to talk to girls in bars like this. They were almost always someone’s wife or girlfriend, and while I could take almost anyone in a fight, I didn’t like leaving behind a mess.

  “Help.” Her voice shook as she choked out the words. “Someone please help me. I need somewhere to hide. Please.”

  No one else in the bar seemed to see or hear the woman. Frowning, I hopped off the barstool and turned toward her. When she saw my movement, her eyes lit up. But then she took in my massive frame, my tattoos, and the light in her eyes dimmed just a bit.

  “Naw, man,” the bartender said from behind me in a low whisper. “You don’t want to get involved in this.”

  The girl’s eyes turned up to my face, and my breath shuddered in my lungs. Even though she looked like a drowned rat, I hadn’t seen a woman this gorgeous in a long-ass time. Her eyes were a deep green, like the color of grass on a warm summer’s day, and her flushed cheeks accentuated her heart-shaped face. My eyes moved down despite my internal command to stop them, casting a furtive glance at the way her wet shirt clung to her breasts. I could see her nipples erect and hard underneath the thin material, and I felt a twitch in my pants, a reaction I hadn’t had in a very long time.

  “You need some kind of help?” I asked, stepping forward before I could fully think things through.

  She flinched, but she didn’t take a step back. Eyes gazing up at me, she looked so innocent and scared, and my gut clenched tight. This girl was in trouble, and I already knew I’d do whatever it took to get her out of it. The loneliness and aimlessness I’d felt for far too long flittered away with just that one look at her eyes. I had a mission.

  And deep down I knew, getting involved in this whole thing, whatever it was, would probably come back to bite me in the ass.

  Chapter Two

  Rosie

  Whoever this guy was, he was big. He looked a lot like the kind of guy I tried as hard as hell to stay away from. Which meant he was as tall, as tattooed, and as muscled as Scooter. And the last thing I wanted right now was another Scooter Stone in my life.

  I eyed up the guy that towered over me before seeing Jimmy pop his head out from behind the bar. Shit. I hadn’t known he was working tonight. Knowing him, he’d call Scooter and let the whole gang know I’d come run
ning in here from the rain.

  “I’m telling you, man,” Jimmy said again to the hunk of a man standing before me. “You should just sit right back down. I’ll give you another whiskey, this one on the house. How does that sound? Look, I’m pouring it now.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” the guy finally said, his voice rumbling in his chest. I took a deep breath at his words. He didn’t sound like he was from anywhere near here. His accent was pretty plain with a hint of Brooklyn or someplace like that. Most people in Carlsville had a drawling Southern twang that was impossible to miss. And if this guy wasn’t from here…he was probably the best person to get me out of this mess. He wouldn’t know or care what I’d done to Scooter.

  I glanced over my shoulder and swallowed. They’d be out there looking for me. I only had so much time before they reached the bar. “Some guys are after me. They’re out there looking, and it won’t take them long to get here.”

  The guy frowned. “Why are they after you?”

  Jimmy crossed his arms over his chest, but I tried to ignore him. Of course he’d be on Scooter’s side. They’d grown up in the same year at school, from elementary to middle school to high school. They were permanent fixtures in this town, and they were loyal to a fault. That’s why I’d had to get the hell out of this place, and why I never should have come back. At least not on my own.

  Shouts sounded from outside the door, and my heart seized in my chest. I whirled around, my eyes searching for anywhere to hide in this godforsaken hole in the wall. Bear’s Bar & Grill was an old familiar haunt from high school, but it no longer felt so welcoming. The jukebox squatted in the corner, menacing and cold. The rows and rows of spirits stared at me from the dark shadows behind the bar. And Jimmy just scowled at me. I was the traitor. The girl who had turned her back on them all, on this place, on everything I knew and loved.

  But I’d had a damn good reason.

  The tattooed muscle guy waved his hand at me and half-turned to Jimmy. “Is there a back door to this place?”

  Jimmy frowned and kept his stance firm and strong. My heart sunk. He wasn’t going to help. After everything I’d done, this was Carlsville’s way of getting back at me. No one who’d been around any amount of time would dare reach out a hand to stop Scooter Stone from coming after me.

  “Jimmy, please,” I said, rushing over to the bar. My hands shook as I palmed the scratched top where I’d taken drink after drink over the years. “He’ll beat the shit out of me. Worse, maybe. If not him, one of the other guys will. They want to get rid of me once and for all.”

  Jimmy’s face went pale, and he closed his eyes. “Fuck, Rosie. Okay fine, but don’t you dare tell them I helped you.”

  Jimmy jerked his thumb toward a door leading into the back while his eyes stayed glued to the front of the bar. Any minute now, Scooter and his boys would come bursting in here. And I’d be shit out of luck, no matter what anyone did. “Go through there. Door’s down the hall and to the left. Make sure no one sees you when you leave.”

  “Come on,” the tattoo guy said, grabbing my arm with one hand while he tipped back a shot of whiskey with the other. For a moment, I thought about wriggling out of his grasp. I’d gotten the help I’d come for. I had a way to slither out into the darkness before the guys figured out where I’d gone. But I knew I might need more help before the night was over. And while this tank of a man was a little bit intimidating, I could sure as hell use someone like that right now.

  The guy kicked open the door and pulled me inside just as the front of the bar exploded into noise. Shouts echoed through the thin door, and the sound of breaking glass rattled my nerves even more. Panting, I glanced up at this strange man who’d decided to help me. His face was a mask of calm, his lips thin, his body straight and tall.

  “Where the hell is she, Jimmy? I know she came this way,” a voice yelled. One I’d have recognized anywhere. It was Scooter. Even though it had been three months since I’d heard his familiar deep drawl, it felt like it had been only yesterday. A small part of my heart squeezed, and I had to close my eyes to block out the memories begging to pour into my mind.

  A heavy hand fell onto my shoulder, and I flinched, the reality of the present crashing down around me. Tattoo guy jerked his head toward the back door, and I gave a nod, following him toward the safety of the night.

  When we cracked open the door, a gust of wind sent slanted rain onto our heads. Frowning, he wrapped his strong arm around my shaking shoulders and pulled me into the storm. My shoes sloshed as we ran through puddles, ducking into the shadows at the back of Bear’s Bar before rounding the side of the building with slow and quiet steps.

  There were pickup trucks everywhere, and several of Scooter’s guys still stood under the overhanging roof out front, pacing in the mud and scowling into the rain. They were looking for me, and chills ran along my skin at how close I was to getting caught. All they had to do was look this way, and they would probably see us skulking around in the dark.

  Tattoo guy edged back from the corner and pointed at the building next door, a small, dingy motel that only serviced ten rooms, whose usual clientele were truck drivers in need of a bed. These were the only two businesses for a couple of miles, situated right off the interstate exit. My mom’s house was in a small neighborhood half a mile away, but that’s where I’d just come from, and I knew right now I couldn’t go back.

  This guy must be staying in that motel, I realized. That’s why he was in the bar in the first place. I shook my head, but he either couldn’t see my reaction through the rain or he didn’t give a damn what I wanted to do. With his arm still tight around my shoulders, he led me further into the shadows, away from Scooter and his guys, and toward his motel room.

  My heart thumped hard as I took another glance up at his face. Either this was the best idea in the world or the worst.

  Chapter Three

  Franklin

  Years of trained instinct took over. I dodged through the shadows with the girl close to my side, my ears tuned into every sound behind us. At any moment, the leader of this gang would realize she had escaped out the back. We needed to be out of their line of sight before that happened, and my motel room was the only place nearby for us to hide.

  If they knew she’d run this way, they would certainly check the motel for any sign of her. Because as far as I’d been able to tell, there wasn’t anywhere else she could hide on this long stretch of empty road. If that bartender snitched, they’d know she left with some outsider. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out where she’d gone.

  When I got her inside the motel, I sat her down on the twin bed covered in a seventies-style bedspread, brown and puke yellow swirls faded from years of use. She shivered and hugged her arms tight to her chest, and I disappeared into the bathroom to find a clean towel. My mind whirred the entire time. We had to get her out of here. Where to? Hell if I knew. First, I needed to have a better idea of what we were facing. Who were these guys? What did they want? What kind of skills and weapons did they have? My mind ticked through the essential questions that had been drilled in my head over the years of training, a logical checklist that drowned out any panic.

  After I draped the towel across her shoulders, I turned the heat up a few more notches. The poor girl still shivered like she was stuck in a freezer. Leaning against the wall, I crossed my arms and waited, but the tempo of my heart didn’t slow. I forced myself not to pull back the thin gauzy curtain and peek outside. As long as I was calm, maybe she would be, too.

  After several moments, I finally had to speak up. “Who the hell was that guy?”

  “Scooter is my ex-husband,” she whispered, staring hard at the stained carpet.

  “Your ex-hus—? Shit.” Frowning, I dragged my hand down my face. That wasn’t at all what I had expected. “Then, who were those guys with him, and why are they chasing you?”

  Finally, she looked up at me and met my eyes. They were glazed over by a film of water, as if she was on the verg
e of tears. Double shit. I couldn’t handle a woman in tears. It made it impossible to think straight.

  “It’s a very long story,” she said quietly. “What’s your name?”

  Frowning, I scratched at my face. Out of all the questions she could have asked, she’d gone for one of the hardest. My name had gone through half a dozen iterations over the years, and I wasn’t entirely sure how long I’d be keeping my most recent one, but it seemed like the best option to go with for now.

  “Franklin,” I said. “And you?”

  “Rosie Smith,” she said. “Thanks for what you did back there, Franklin. As soon as they’ve left the bar, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as that, Rosie.”

  The name felt nice on my tongue, and it fit the girl who sat before me. It was sweet and soft with a hint of innocence to it. I found my eyes wandering down her neck. She had a perfect set of curves underneath her wet clothes, and my entire body yearned to wrap my arms around her to stop the shivering she still couldn’t shake.

  Dammit, I thought to myself. Don’t let your mind go there. Not now.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked, voice hitching and eyes wide.

  Triple shit. This girl was in way over her head if she didn’t realize they weren’t going to go away that easy.

  “How sure are you that the bartender—Jimmy was it?”

  She nodded. “Jimmy Marlow. We went to high school together.”

  Right. That was interesting, though I shouldn’t have been too surprised. This was some local issue, something that must go back for years. Maybe it wasn’t as serious as it looked after all. Ex-husbands, high school friends. Compared to what I’d dealt with in my past, this would be a walk in the park.

  “What’s the likelihood that Jimmy Marlow will tell your ex-husband you went out the back door with a man who doesn’t live around here?”