Alpha Bait_BWWM Billionaire Romance Novel

by Jamila Jasper

  "Calm down, Indie," he pleaded, his soft voice growing higher pitched as if he were trying to sooth a bleeding animal.

  "Where's my dog?" I blurted out, heart racing.

  If Donnie hurt Athena to get in here, that would tell me everything I needed to know.

  "Closed her in the bathroom," Donnie replied, "She's friendly."

  Skeptically, I opened my bathroom door and Athena bounded out, rushing up to me and sniffing. I glowered at Donnie, but secretly I was relieved that he wasn't as cold as my brother. Jamal wouldn't have let the dog survive.

  I relaxed and patted Athena on the head.

  I inhaled slowly and then released before I spoke again.

  "Does my brother know that you found me?"

  "Your mother believes that you're dead."

  "Answer my question," I snapped.

  Giving Donnie some trust didn't mean I believed his intentions wholly pure.

  "No, Jamal doesn't know."

  I exhaled a sigh of relief. If Jamal didn't know where I was, there was a chance that I could go deeper underground and expend the remainder of my resources to find a new home outside of the United States entirely.

  There was still hope for an escape.

  Donnie had other plans for me. He told me why he'd come.

  "Something terrible is happening in New York, Indie. You need to come back. You need to put an end to this."

  I snorted, "what the hell could be so bad that you need me to put an end to it?"

  "Your brother's life is in danger."

  I snorted in response.

  "You expect me to care? Jamal tried to sell me. He killed Ames Carmichael. He would sell me out if it would make him a richer man. If someone has decided to kill him, that's not my problem."

  "Would that change if I told you that someone was Richard?"

  I folded my arms and snapped back, "why the hell would I care what Richard Carmichael does?"

  "Don't make me say it," he muttered

  He knew. Donnie had figured out the exact nature of my relationship with Richard Carmichael. I had no idea how long he sat on the information, but the fact I was still alive meant that he didn't tell my brother.

  "I have nothing to do with Richard Carmichael. Don't you get it, Donnie? I'm not the same person that I was. I'm not Indie Holloway. I'm not a part of the family. I'm dead. I'm dead and I'm never coming back to New York"

  "You can't abandon us."

  I snapped, "I'm not the one who abandoned you, Donnie."

  He seemed to get a hold of himself, realizing that if he kept goading me, he would reduce his chances of convincing me to come back to the city with him.

  "If Richard kills Donnie, he will go to jail for the rest of his life. This doesn't have to happen. I've spilled blood, Indie. I've done wrong. The more I think about it the more I realize we need to put an end to this. Richard wants to put an end to it by putting a bullet between your brother's eyes. If he gets that chance, and eventually he will, we will never see an end to all of this fighting. We will ruin everything that our father worked for just because we couldn't be mature enough to stop."

  "Have you tried giving the speech to my brother?" I huffed.

  "You are the only one who can get through to either of them. I spent $5 million tracking you down. That's how hard you were to find. I did it anyway because I know that you are our only hope."

  "You'll have to find another hope."

  I tried to sound cold, but I had to admit even to myself Donnie's words had spoken to me. If Richard was trying to kill my brother, that meant he was back in New York. If he was trying to kill my brother, he already knew that Ames was dead, and he probably believed that I was dead too.

  He, more than anyone was who I owed. I could not allow him to continue believing untruths while I became Patsy. I owed him more. If he was willing to kill for me... I'd have to be willing to die for him.

  "If I come back with you, there's no telling what Jamal will do to me."

  "My loyalties may not have been clear before Indie, but I will not allow your brother to harm you. If you come back with me, I will protect you."

  I considered it.

  "You'll protect me?"

  "Without a doubt," Donnie replied.

  "If I come back, I want to do things my own way."

  Donnie replied, "and you have my word that I will support you.

  I had a decision to make that would change the course not only of my life but of our two families who had been long intertwined in a battle that most of us craved to end. The difficulty would lie in convincing my brother to end it.

  Bed-Stuy

  RICH

  Gail warned her son. I'd expected that after running into her. She couldn't trust me to put an end to the violence that her son had begun and she was correct not to. I'd traced Jamal for a week. Each day, I woke up, read the last messages I'd exchanged with Indie and my heart ached for her. I'd retrieved my brother's fraternity ring and I wore it around my neck. The gold burned a hole in my chest each day that passed without vengeance.

  My aunt Bryn leaked the last bit of information I'd needed to find out Jamal's new location. He'd been foolish, and he hadn't bothered to leave the city, instead opting to hide out in Brooklyn. I suppose the idea of a billionaire hiding in Brooklyn might have seemed foolproof to him. He was the sort of man that required a certain amount of luxury, and even I have to admit, I didn't believe at first that he could handle hiding in a small studio in Bed-Stuy.

  My sources were accurate, I knew that much. Jamal tried to hide, but he would not be able to hide forever. Armageddon would come for him. I would come for him.

  I kept my plans secret, which proved no challenge. Everyone that I would have confided in had been killed by Jamal's hand either directly or indirectly. I remembered so many months ago when I had begged him to put the fighting aside. My brother and I had discussed an end. We'd been willing.

  Perhaps we have been too unrelenting to admit our father's guilt. Perhaps our own egos had gotten in the way of peace. Fighting could only end in death. And there was nothing sweet or romantic about it. Death wasn't a release, but a prison that surrounded me. I couldn't bear to lose anyone else.

  To track Jamal at his new place without detection, I had to behave like someone other than myself. I took the subway for the first time in my life.

  I dressed in simple clothing, picked by my assistant for the sole purpose of allowing me to blend in. There was no Prada, no luxurious wool or cotton, just a pair of denim jeans and a T-shirt. The t-shirt itched.

  I have to admit, it was an outfit combination that I had never worn a day in my life. The clothing felt distinctly comfortable, almost too comfortable.

  Following the lead of everyone around me I loaded up just enough money on my metro card to take me to Brooklyn I got onto the subway and waited. I preferred to stand, and although I did not want to hold on to the greasy metal rails where so many hands had previously passed, I found myself unable to balance on my own.

  I memorized the directions to Jamal's place. I exited the subway and walked a few blocks west before turning north. The building was surprisingly unguarded. Instead of having my usual men work my reconnaissance for me, my assistant had drummed up a few college friends who are more interested in making a few hundred bucks to feed her information for me. It appeared my increased surveillance had gone undetected.

  Or this was a trap.

  Unlike any apartment building in Manhattan, at least one where Jamal would've usually stayed, there was no guard no doorman and no sign of his bodyguard's familiar black sedans on the streets.

  Perhaps Jamal considered himself so well hidden that he didn't need added protection. Perhaps, he was waiting for me to come prepared to kill me before I could get him. But that would've involved lying in wait every day with bated breath hope that I would soon come through. That option didn't feel realistic.

  The tricky part would not be getting into the building, but getting into Jamal's door
specifically. I obtained the access code that would at least get me into the elevator, but I expected his door would be locked.

  I approached Jamal's door, padding down the hallway gently ensuring that my feet made no sound. His door was locked and I had no plan to get in. I had my weapon and I wracked my brain for a way in, wondering why this was the only piece of the job I hadn't planned...

  I had remembered an old trick that one of my shadier friends had shown me at Princeton. Jason Boggart had been kicked out after only eight weeks and had gone on to become one of the top programmers in the world.

  Jason told me, that most locks could actually be picked with a credit card. After a night of drinking, he showed me, picking the lock to my dorm room before my eyes. The trick was a longshot, but worth a try.

  I was still armed so if it didn't work, I'd only have to get noisier. I was determined to finish the job today. Jail or not, killing Jamal would be worth it for what he already cost me.

  And while his mother did not seem to think that he had anything to do with his sister's death, I still couldn't rule that out. My instincts insisted he as involved.

  I pulled out my American Express card and wriggled it between the small gap between the door and the frame. The jostling rattled the door . If Jamal was in there and if he heard me, he made no moves to approach the door. Thankfully, the trick worked swiftly. I made a personal reminder to thank that old bastard if I ever got a chance to see him again.

  The door opened and my hand flew to my weapon. I stepped into the room. . Jamal faced me. He had been sitting in a chair and I could tell from the look on his face that I had taken him by surprise. Surprise quickly faded once he saw what I carried. He'd been expecting a fight.

  He rose to his feet.

  "Put the gun down, Richard."

  I grinned, "I'm not here to do that. I'm here to finish this."

  "Did you not learn from your brother's death what happens to anyone who crosses me?"

  "I'm here to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

  "Nothing you do will be able to stop me or my plans. You could put a bullet in my head and by the end of the year, your company will have turned to dust. I don't need to be alive to do that."

  "This isn't about the company. This is about my brother."

  My revenge was also about his sister. Even then, I couldn't bring myself to admit to him anything that happened between us. It was as if what had happened was a secret that I couldn't bear to share. If I did share how I felt about Indie, I would be exposing too much of myself. No, our relationship belonged in private.

  "Your brother got what he deserved."

  I cocked the gun.

  "You could shoot me, or you could fight like a man."

  He wouldn't taunt me by playing to my ego.

  I kept the gun high. I walked closer to press the barrel into Jamal's forehead. He didn't flinch.

  He taunted me, "go ahead. Do it."

  My finger trembled over the trigger. I gritted my teeth, determined that I would find it within myself to shoot him.

  As I was about to pull the trigger, the door that I shut behind me swung open. Against my will, my head jerked around to see who entered. That moment of distraction had been enough. Jamal hit the gun out of my hand and kicked it across the floor just as his mother entered the room.

  "Put your hands up," her voice boomed throughout the studio apartment with unwavering strength.

  The raspiness that had tinged her voice in her old age did nothing to diminish the terror that could be inflicted by her stern words.

  I put my hands up. Gail Holloway stepped into the room, gun raised.

  "Backs against the wall," she commanded.

  I wasn't so foolish as to defy her. If her progeny were any indication, she'd shoot. I stepped in line with Jamal and placed my back against the wall just as she asked.

  Jamal scowled, "what are you doing, mama?"

  The vitriol in his voice surprised me. It was clear what she was doing. She had trusted us to put an end to the fighting and she had determined to do so herself.

  "If either of you moves, I will shoot."

  Jamal chuckled.

  "You will shoot me?"

  "I will do what I must to end this violence."

  "And what will you do when your breadwinner is 6 feet under? If you shoot me, you'll be betraying your own husband."

  "My husband is dead. And it is my responsibility to put an end to this nonsensical violence while I am still alive. If he wants to stop me, he can rise up from the dead and do it himself."

  "I know you won't shoot me mother," Jamal said.

  He still had not raised his hands in the air. I was too afraid to put mine down. I saw the look in Gail's eyes that I had seen in Indie's once before. She had that fierce determination, that stubbornness that could not be quelled. I would not have tempted her.

  Apparently, Jamal did not know his mother as well as he thought he did.

  "I am going to finish this once and for all," he said.

  He lunged towards the gun which he had kicked far away from me. As soon as he moved, his mother fired. A piercing gunshot rang throughout the building. Jamal let out a scream that sounded like a desert jackal. His mother stared with an unflinching gaze as he clutched his shoulder and fell to his knees.

  "Move one more muscle Jamal and I will finish this."

  Blood gushed from Jamal's wounds. Gail didn't aim to kill, but I would not have taken my chances that if he moved again she wouldn't.

  "You shot me!"

  " Move one more muscle and I’ll do it again, " Gail replied.

  She turned her attention towards me.

  "This is over, Rich. If you're willing to end it, I will."

  "I am willing," I said.

  The presence of a gun did plenty to coerce me, but I couldn't deny I wanted this feud to be over.

  "Can we have a truce?" I asked.

  "I want it in writing. And backed to your family wealth."

  "Done."

  "My son won't be harming anyone else, I can assure you of that."

  I nodded, "Good."

  "Put your hands down."

  I did, and she thrust the gun into her wool peacoat. I lowered my hands, relieved.

  "I'm sorry for all the mess," she said, smoothing her hair.

  "I'm sorry it had to come to this."

  "It's over," she said, "So it doesn't matter what it has come to. We'll put this behind us."

  "I intend to."

  "Will you call an AMBULANCE?!" Jamal whimpered.

  "I will," she replied, "if you keep quiet."

  Gail faced me again.

  "I'm sorry for those you have lost."

  "I could say the same. Your daughter..."

  "I know," she replied, "I miss her. If she's out there somewhere, I hope she comes back."

  Jamal spat, "She isn't. I ID'ed her myself."

  "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?" Gail hissed, reaching again for the gun.

  Jamal flinched and raised his hands in defeat, blood dripping down his palms. His sudden motion caused him to cry out in pain.

  "I'll call an ambulance," Gail sniffed, and she walked outside of the studio, leaving her own son bleeding.

  "I'm sorry, Jamal," I muttered, "But I'm ready to end this."

  "Coward!" Jamal snarled.

  If he said anything afterward, I didn't hear it. I followed Gail out of the apartment, thinking only of Indie, and hoping she'd understand both why I'd tried to kill her brother and why I'd spared him.

  Hospitals

  INDIE

  Donnie drove me to New York. Our drive was quiet. We hadn't much to say between us, and I admit that I was grateful for the silence. I had no desire to converse with Donnie and he had little to say to me.

  "Jamal only does what he thinks is right," Donnie said at one point.

  I glowered at him, and he changed the subject to the latest intrigue in the NBA world -- something I had no interest in. The drive seemed to
stretch out forever and the views of the plains as we crossed into Indiana and then Ohio bled monotonously into each other.

  "How is my mother?" I asked, tiring of the hours of silence that were only punctuated by the occasional song on the radio Donnie was interested in hearing.

  "Aunty Gail?"

  "Yes."

  "She misses you. She doesn't believe you're dead."

  "I'm not."

  "She'll be surprised to see you like this."

  "What, the bald thing?"

  "Yeah."

  I suspected my mother would be content to see me alive and that she wouldn't care much for my hair, or my appearance.

  "I miss her."

  "What you did to her was cruel."

  I glared, "And marrying me off like a bed wench wasn't?"

  "I'm not saying I agree with him," Donnie defended himself.

  "Then stop justifying it. Stop making excuses Donnie. Jamal's ambition ripped our family apart."

  "I know," Donnie mumbled.

  My cousin was a good man. He knew right from wrong. He'd made a mistake and I could sense that even when he wasn't saying anything, he thought about what had happened with Selena Carter and he regretted what he'd done. His eyes carried that permanent tinge of regret behind them.

  "Jamal is lucky what he's done hasn't caught up with him."

  "It might have."

  "What do you mean?"

  "When I left New York, Rich Carmichael was trying to kill him. Maybe by now, he's succeeded."

  A lump formed in my throat at the mention of Richard. I didn't want to believe he could kill my brother.

  "Does everyone know I'm dead?" I asked.

  "Yes."

  My heart thumped in my chest. If Richard believed me dead, and his brother certainly was dead, then he'd have more than enough justification for revenge. I'd never seen him get violent except for the fight in the park, where he'd been more than justified. His willingness to fight wasn't what I questioned.

  "I don't want my brother to die."

  "Neither do I. But a lot of people want him dead."

  "Not just any people. Carmichaels."