The Billionaire's Secret Kink 3 (Secret Billionaire Romance)

by Ladew, Lisa

  Table of Contents

  The Billionaire's Secret Kink 3

  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 XX

  The Billionaire's Secret Kink 3

  By Lisa Ladew

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons or organizations, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Copyright © 2015 Lisa Ladew All Rights Reserved

  Book cover by: http://www.stunningbookcovers.com/

  Chapter 1

  Mica and Knox, at Knox's estate

  Knox held his hand out to Mica. She took it and they walked through the large house together. "See, I knew this would be over quickly," Knox said as he reached the massive front door. The doorbell sounded and Mica could see the outline of a man in blue standing on the other side of the door through the tiny, opaque window.

  Knox unlocked the door and swung it open, a smile of greeting on his face.

  It withered and was replaced by a look of confusion. Mica gasped as she saw the cop was pointing a gun at Knox.

  Mica's eyes flew to the cop's face. Too late, she recognized him as Dick Bailey, dressed in a sharp police uniform, his hair and eyebrows neatly and newly trimmed and died brown, his face clean-shaven, a stolen or fake badge shining on his chest.

  Slowly, Knox pulled his hand out of Mica's, his muscles tensing.

  "Don't try it Rosesson, or I'll put a hole in your stomach big enough to watch TV through," Bailey barked. "Put your hands on your head, now!"

  Mica cringed in fear as Knox slowly did what he'd been told.

  ***

  Panic built in Mica's chest, making her feel faint. She clasped her hands together and pinched the sensitive web between her thumb and index finger hard. The world swam back to her. Yes, Dick Bailey still stood in front of her, his gun pointed at Knox's chest.

  If Knox was hurt because of her she thought she might die.

  "Move back," Bailey ordered, his voice rough and grating.

  Knox pushed her behind him, shielding her with his body, and they backed up together. Bailey stepped inside the entryway and swung the door shut, his eyes on Knox the entire time.

  Mica realized Bailey couldn't see her and looked around for a weapon, something she could use or give to Knox. She saw nothing close by. Mica's hands snuck under Knox's sport jacket from behind, feeling for the gun she'd seen there earlier, but it was gone. He must have taken it off. Mica's stomach felt like a small, heavy stone in her mid-section. She knew Bailey had deeper plans than just extortion. She didn't see herself or Knox getting out of the situation alive.

  Bailey stepped to the side of the door and nodded at Knox. "Lock it pretty boy, use the special locks. We don't need company."

  Knox stepped forward and did as Bailey asked, leaving Mica desperately alone for a moment.

  Bailey nodded as Knox slid the bolt home. "Now do that bar there but don't touch those call buttons. Don't even think about it."

  Slowly, tension building in all his muscles, Knox turned the bar that ran from the floor to the doorknob and fitted it into the hole in the floor, effectively rendering the door unopenable, even to someone with a key.

  Knox glared at Bailey and stepped back, his hands reaching behind him to find Mica. Mica caught his arm and clung to him, her gut rolling.

  Bailey's gaze bored holes into Knox. He gestured with the gun. "Move, pretty boy. To the couch."

  Knox squeezed Mica's hand, then stepped that way, pulling her with him but keeping her on the opposite side of him from Bailey. Mica could feel Knox's coiled strength and wished she knew what he was thinking.

  Knox settled them both on the couch, his eyes never leaving Baileys. The two men stared at each other like alley cats fighting over territory. The air in the room seemed to thicken till Mica had a hard time even taking a breath.

  Bailey moved directly in front of them. Mica shrank next to Knox, her thoughts swirling crazily. She couldn't believe this was happening. Couldn't believe Bailey had taken it this far. Couldn't believe Knox was about to suffer because of what she'd done. She would never forgive herself. If she lived.

  "So," Bailey said, eyeing them like a tyrant, his attention shifting to Mica. "The whore and the pretty boy. It's going to kill your father when I tell him his little girl was just a whore all along, and that he paid me all that money for nothing."

  "Call her a whore again and I'll make you regret it," Knox said between clenched teeth.

  Bailey laughed, but it seemed forced to Mica. "The pretty boy thinks he's a gentleman and a tough guy. Can't be both, pretty boy. You'll learn. When you're my age, you'll know that well."

  Mica clutched at Knox, scared suddenly of what he might do. She just wanted to be quiet and hope Bailey went away. Even though she knew he wouldn't.

  Bailey looked back at her. "So, Mica," he sneered. "All I want to know is how you got your boyfriend here on the train that night. How did you know to tell him we were going on the train? Huh? How?"

  Mica blinked at him and shook her head in confusion. What was he talking about?

  Bailey swung his deadly-looking gun in her direction and Knox almost lunged off the couch. Bailey twitched back to him. "Plant your fucking ass before I blow another hole in it."

  Knox pulled his hand out of Mica's, slowly, even as he sat back down, appearing to do as Bailey wanted. Mica felt her heavy stomach lurch and roll as fear flowed through her like a river.

  The gun swung slowly back to Mica, even as Bailey's eyes stayed planted on Knox. "Answer me, Marjorie, or I can think of worse things to do than shooting you."

  Mica felt a bolt of emotional pain shoot through her as Bailey used her given name. The name no one had called her in ten years. The name of the scared and lonely girl she'd tried to forget, to cover up, to leave behind. Underneath her pain, confusion at what exactly Bailey was talking about loomed. He thought she and Knox has known each other back then?

  "Spill it princess," Bailey snarled, his voice raising an octave. "Don't act innocent. I'm not stupid, you know. I was smart enough to follow you, smart enough to figure out who pretty boy here was, and I'll figure this out too, with or without you. But I'll make things easier on you if you cooperate."

  In the silence that followed Bailey's chilling statement, Mica heard a strange noise, something she couldn't quite place. A car driving outside?

  The speaker on the ceiling buzzed to life, making Mica shriek and Bailey's eyes rake the ceiling. "Bronx Rosesson here to see you, sir," Adam's voice said, a burst of static at the end of his words hurting Mica's ears.

  The doorknob rattled and the door shook in its frame, then a moment of silence. "Knox?" a deep male voice called.

  Mica held her breath, her eyes rolling to Bailey. He looked confused for a moment, but the look hardened as he raised the gun towards the door. Adrenaline spiked in Mica's bloodstream.

  Knox heaved himself off the couch and over the squat coffee table, underneath Bailey's gun. "Bronx, help!" he roared as he moved with all the strength and power of a jungle cat. He caught Bailey in the armpit, knock
ing him backwards. Mica screamed as the gun went off. Her eyes bounced between herself, Knox, and the door but she couldn't tell where the bullet had gone.

  Bailey grunted and tried to turn the gun on Knox as something heavy hit the front door. "Knox!" the man at the door bellowed, trying to smash his way in.

  Mica stood and ran around the coffee table, looking for a way to help Knox. Something heavy she could bash on Bailey's head, anything. All the tables she saw were bare, except for a few books and magazines. She dropped to the ground as the two men wrestled for control of the gun and it swung her way. Blackness swam at the edges of her vision as adrenaline threatened to overwhelm her. She pulled herself to her knees, thinking the best way to help Knox was to let his brother in.

  Knox rolled over Bailey, heaving Bailey's gun arm up towards the far wall with his right hand, then closing his left hand around Bailey's throat and squeezing. Bailey grunted, but hung on, groping in his boot for something. Too late, Mica saw the glint of steel.

  "Knife!" she screamed.

  Knox let go of Bailey's throat to grab for the knife. Mica saw blood fly but she didn't know who's it was. "Open the door," Knox hissed at Mica, even as she was already moving. She got up and sprinted for the door, pulling on the metal bar and hitting all the locks as she reached it. She pulled at it, but it didn't open. She re-checked every lock even as a loud crash sounded from somewhere else in the house.

  Mica found the lock that she had missed as someone roared in pain behind her. Mica prayed it wasn't Knox even as she flung the door open, hoping to see salvation on the other side.

  No one was there.

  Behind her, the grunts and bellows of pain amped up, then motion caught her eye from her right side. Mica swung around to see dark-haired Bronx enter the room from the far hallway at a run, then stop short, his eyes locked on Bailey and Knox.

  Mica turned too, scared to death of what she would see. Knox and Bailey were still on the ground, still fighting over the gun. Bailey had dropped the knife and a few of the fingers on his right hand were bent at unnatural, disgusting angles, but he still had at least partial control of the gun and he had it pointing straight at Bronx.

  Knox's sport coat sleeve was ripped open and a long flap of the skin on his right arm hung loosely over his inner elbow. Blood gushed lazily from the scary-looking wound, soaking the hardwood floor.

  "Get Rachel out of here!" Knox shouted at his brother.

  Bronx's eyes landed on her at his brother's words. He took two large steps and grabbed Mica by her arm, pulling her across the floor in an instant. He shoved her into the hallway leading to the green room. "Go, climb through the broken window at the end of the hallway and get help" he hissed at her, then turned to go back into the room and help his brother.

  Mica tried to do as he said, but her feet tangled together as he let go of her and she slammed into the far wall, then fell to her knees. As she scrambled up she saw Bronx grab an oblong, metal statue out of a display shelf inset into the wall and point it at Bailey and Knox like a gun, using most of his large hand to obscure the fact that it wasn't a gun.

  "Drop the gun!" he shouted, his deep voice ringing through the room. "Drop it or I'll shoot you!"

  Another bellow of pain roared through the room and then gunshots. One, two, three, four gunshots and a loud crash. Mica dropped back down to the floor and covered her head with her hands, tears squeezing out of her eyes.

  Knox was dead. She knew it.

  Chapter 2

  Mica

  Frantic movement from the room where the men were caused Mica to lift her head. Bronx was no longer standing where he'd been. Mica crawled to the doorway and peeked in, certain she'd see Knox sprawled on the ground, lifeless.

  But the spot where he'd been fighting with Bailey was empty. The coffee table lay overturned in a red puddle, its four legs pointing in the air, wood splintered from its underside.

  Her eyes followed the blood trail to the front door, where Knox and Bronx were rushing out into the yard. She heard Knox yell, "Rachel—I mean Mica, where is she?"

  A huge, ear-splitting wail and then noise of a collision reached Mica's ears. She saw Knox and Bronx crouch and wince in tandem, then Knox grabbed his brother's arm. "He's got her doesn't he?" Knox shouted, anguish in his voice.

  Mica stood and ran for them. "I'm here. I never made it outside."

  Knox turned back to the house and his eyes met hers. The look of relief on his face floored her. She felt shaky from it.

  Bronx turned also and placed a guiding hand on Knox's back. "Get inside. We can't catch him now and we've got to stop that bleeding."

  Knox looked at his brother and Mica thought he would argue, but he didn't, he nodded and walked up the stone steps to the house.

  The intercom in the ceiling buzzed to life. Adam's voice sizzled over it, excited and apprehensive. "Mr. Rosesson, what's going on? Why did the officer ram his car through the gate?"

  Knox stopped at the buttons just inside the door and pressed one. "Because he wasn't a cop, Adam, he was Dick Bailey. Call the real cops."

  Silence played out for a moment as Knox waited for confirmation. Adam's voice sounded again, nervous this time. "Mr. Rosesson, I'm sorry, I—"

  Knox pressed his button, his face hard. "Save it. I didn't recognize him either till he pointed his cannon at me. Call the police now. Give them the vehicle description and license plate. Make sure they understand the guy looks like a cop and is driving a cop car."

  Knox let go of the button and walked all the way inside, his shoes skidding on the bloody floor.

  Bronx pressed the button behind him. "Call an ambulance too, Adam." Then he followed Knox.

  Mica's eyes focused on the flap of skin hanging down Knox's arm. Her stomach flip-flopped. She bit her tongue, hard. She hated blood, but there was no way she was running from this.

  "I don't need an ambulance!" Knox yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared through an opening on the far side of the room. Bronx ran to catch up with him. Mica followed, gingerly stepping over the blood trail. She passed through the doorway into a large kitchen and dining room. Brass and stainless steel branded the room as a man's kitchen. Knox was sitting at the table, his eyes on his injury. Mica scanned him, but his clothes were soaked in blood. She couldn't tell if he had any other wounds.

  Bronx appeared with a towel in his hands. "This is gonna hurt, bro."

  Knox eyed him, his jaw clenched. "Just do it."

  Bronx lifted the flap of bloody skin and flesh with the towel, then placed it back over the wound, pressing hard. He looked around the room and found Mica. "What's your name? Mica?"

  Mica nodded, knowing what he wanted. Ordinarily she would have run the other way, but she was so grateful Knox was still alive she grit her teeth and took a step forward.

  "Hold this, right here. Press hard. Don't let up even if he cries."

  Knox snorted and kicked out at his brother with one booted foot.

  Mica did as Bronx asked, feeling Knox's hot blood soaking through the towel onto her fingers already.

  Bronx stared at her, a strange look on his face. Finally she met his gaze, not understanding what he was waiting for.

  "What did the blue eye say to the green eye?" he asked her.

  "Wh-what?" she said, blinking in confusion.

  "I want to teal your pigment," he replied, a large, unassuming grin crossing his face.

  Mica gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing, not sure how to respond.

  Knox groaned and rolled his eyes. "That was awful!" he grumped. "I'm dying here and you're telling one of your stupid jokes!"

  Bronx pressed his lips together. "You're not dying. And give me a break, I only had a second to think of it. I'll have a better one for you next time," he said, turning to Mica and winking at her.

  Mica tried unsuccessfully to think of a response but all she could do was stare.

  Bronx faced his brother again. "You look like a slasher victim. You got any other wounds?"

/>   Knox flexed his left hand, his face contracting in pain. "Yeah, my fingers. And right here," he said, lifting his coat and pointing to his waist. Mica saw a line of blood trickling down his side there too. She looked away, determined not to flake out on him.

  "Lovely. You got any heavy shears? I want to cut this off you," Bronx said, fingering the sport coat.

  "In the silverware drawer," Knox answered. He watched his brother walk through the kitchen then spoke again. "You should cancel the ambulance and sew me up like you did before."

  Bronx snorted, his face contorting. "That was a minor injury. There's no way you are getting out of professional medical treatment this time. You're stabbed for fuck's sake. Quit being a baby."

  Knox narrowed his eyes and scrunched up his mouth at his brother in a mocking fashion. Mica's attention ping-ponged between the two brothers. What was going on? Didn't they realize how serious this was?

  "I-is he a doctor?" Mica asked Knox.

  From across the room Bronx grunted a laugh. "No, I'm a seamstress," he said into the silverware drawer, then pulled out a heavy pair of scissors. He walked back to Knox and began to cut up the arm of the coat in the direction of Knox's shoulder.

  "He's an EMT," Knox told her. "He's in the fire academy right now and he'll be a San Francisco firefighter by March."

  "I thought he worked with you," Mica said in a small voice, glad for the conversation that pulled her mind off of Knox's wounds, even if just a little.

  "He did. He still does on the weekends. But he's wanted to be a firefighter since Phoenix started the basement on fire when he was three and Bronx was 5. The firemen pulled up with their big trucks and Dad let them squirt water in the house but anytime Bronx tried it he got smacked." Knox laughed at the memory as he and his brother shared a look.

  Bronx smiled at her, his dark eyes twinkling in humor. "Training started last week. We haven't done anything fun yet, but we start fire suppression training on Wednesday. I can't wait."

  Mica nodded, thoughts filling her brain about the kind of guy who leaves a billion-dollar family business to join the fire department.