Baby Fever Virgin: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Nicole Snow

  “I don't care!” I mutter. It's weaker than it should be, words like lead pushed through my teeth.

  “Well, I do. I'm not going to let them bring you up on murder charges, Ryan. I'm also not going to throw Bets, Matt, Kara, and all my employees under the goddamned bus. You'll have to trust me on this, son. You're leaving tonight to make a new life for yourself, and that's the way it's got to be.”

  I'm hunkered down in disbelief, my face buried in my hands. At least a half hour blurs by with Bart cleaning the blood.

  When he's finished, there's no sign a man ever died on the floor, and I'm no closer to answers.

  “Let me talk to Kara,” I tell him, standing, reaching for the landline attached to the wall.

  He runs up and tears it out of my hand before I can press a single button. “You still don't get it. When I said you're leaving tonight, son, I meant for good. You're vanishing like a ghost with no goodbyes. I can't allow it.”

  I don't know if it's the confusion, or the horror of what he's saying. It takes all my strength to lift him up, throw him against the wall, and scream in his face.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?! I have to tell her what's happened here! Or, at least, somebody does.”

  “She'll never know a thing. I'm taking this to my grave, Ryan, and it's the way it has to be.” The same green eyes on my beautiful fiancee drill into me. They're hard, sad, and determined. “You need to keep quiet, too. The entire town is going to think you killed him, regardless of what we say or do. I told you, I can't work miracles. When I lay his body out, I'm going to tell them I found him like that. The wrench, they'll find in the dumpster out back, but it won't have your fingerprints.”

  “You're not telling them anything, you selfish, backstabbing sonofabitch. I'll tell them my version.”

  “Son, please.” His eyes turn dark, desperate. “I'm trying to reason with you. Hate me, call me every name in the book if it makes you feel better about what's going to go down. But I'm driving you down to the docks and putting you on the first boat I see. You've been out with the crew enough times to know how to get anything with a motor out on Superior, or near enough.”

  No, no, no. Fuck no.

  I'm shaking my head, and then I start shaking him. He never fights back, just stands there and takes it. Hot, crazy tears stream down my face as I'm slamming the only man I loved like family into the wall, raging because he's telling me everything I'll never accept.

  I don't care about the truth.

  I care about seeing her, fulfilling our promise, making her my wife. One brutal, but justified murder shouldn't fucking change that.

  “Please,” he repeats, when I've lost the will to throw him into the brick again. “If you go behind my back, you refuse to listen, I can't stop you. But you'll do it knowing you're ruining your life, and Kara's too. You'll wreck the whole family's.”

  “We can all leave. Find another town. They can't keep me in prison forever, and I'll send every damned dime straight to you, if that's what it takes to support the family. I'm supposed to be a part of it, remember?” My eyes search his, looking for the same acceptance I saw the day he gave me his blessing to date his daughter.

  “And you always will be. I love you, son, because you're always willing to do the right thing, after all the shit you've suffered. You've got a good heart. There's no man I'd rather hand Kara off to. If it'd been anything but this, you know, I would've walked her straight down the aisle, into your arms.”

  I see the familiar spark in his eyes, behind the sadness. It hasn't changed. He puts his hands against my chest, gently pushing me away, and gives me the saddest smile in the world.

  “Think about her for a second. She'd want you to be happy and alive, Ryan. Not stabbed to death by some punk in the shower because he's pissed you won't join his gang for protection. You're too good a man for prison. You'll wind up dead if you go there. I don't care if we ever clear everybody's name, including yours. It's no good if you're gone, and my girl will never forgive me if I had a way to stop it. Well, I do. If you come to your senses, we'll get in my truck and go right now. I'll hand you all the money I can spare, and make it up to whoever's boat we steal later, one way or another.”

  He won't stop stabbing me in the chest. I've stopped resisting because he's right, damn it, he's so right it's killing me worse than Nelson's evil hands ever did.

  There's a boom in the distance. Loud and mournful, dense enough to shake the ceiling. Bart puts his hand on my shoulder, giving me the most fatherly squeeze I'll ever get.

  “Go, son. Leave the rest to me. You have to get on that ship and go now. It's your only chance. Remember – and it's going to be an absolute bitch – you can't come back. You can't call her. You can't write, phone, email, or send a note by fucking pigeon to anyone here. Because if you do, and they realize where you are...”

  I get it. Fuck, do I understand, like a blow to the face.

  Defeated, I follow him out to the truck. It's raining by the time we get to the marina. He leads me over to the best boat docked there, the new thirty foot baby with the little cabin old man McCoy bought when he sold his land in Wisconsin last year.

  He's trusting, like most people still are in this little town. It doesn't take us long to find the spare keys he's tucked into the ship's rear storage.

  It's bigger than anything I've ever piloted before, but the controls seem familiar. Bart stands over my shoulder in the cabin. He doesn't leave until I've started her up, done a few checks, and taken down the tether from the dock. Then he takes an envelope and shoves it into my hand.

  There must be two thousand dollars stuffed inside, maybe more.

  I look at him, nodding glumly, hating how it feels when I jam it into my pocket. The money is a curse, a one-way ticket to a lonely new hell. I already want out.

  “Take care of her,” I say, throwing my arms around him for the last time. “She's going to need everything to make it through the heartbreak. If you won't let me give her the life she deserves, I'm counting on you to do it. Make it right. Make her happy.”

  “That's all I ever meant to do, son. Curse me when you're on the other side of the country if it helps. Best thing you can do is forget. It'll take time, but you can make it happen. Just forget about this town, about Nelson, about the family, and me. Forget her. Forget everything, and live your life.” Every time he says forget it's like another rusty blade digging through my ribs. “Because if you don't, if you ever come back, and you get busted...”

  He doesn't finish his last thought. I push him away, turning back to the ship's controls, watching a bolt of lightning crackle through the sky.

  “I'm sorry it has to be this way, Ryan,” he says, stopping one more time on his way out. “You deserve a second chance, and so does she. I'll fall all over myself to give it to you. I'll die, if that's what it takes.”

  By the time I watch his dark shape climb onto the dock through the rain, he's already dead to me. I'll never have as much love and hate warped together as I do for him in this moment.

  Soon, I can't think about anything at all, except how much the ship is about to break apart. It's dark and terrifying among the high waves. They kick me around, tip the entire ship, barely let me stay on the GPS course.

  I'd be scared, if I weren't numb to everything. I'm drifting further into the night, remembering the last flash of lightning over Armitage Lighthouse, as brief and harsh as seeing Kara herself ripped away from me.

  I can't remember how I made it near Superior in one piece, grounding the ship on the rocky northern shore sometime before sunrise, or how I hitchhiked all the way to Saint Paul to get on the train going west a few days later.

  Somehow, I made it. I got to Seattle through the horror, the fury, the loss, and then I broke my promise to Bart on the first day. Standing there by the ferry terminal, looking out across the Puget Sound, I swore I'd see familiar waters again.

  I wouldn't let her go, or Split Harbor.

  I'd come back someday. Bigg
er, stronger, and better equipped to marry the only woman I ever loved. I'd find a way to erase the nightmare that went down that night, even if it meant stopping Bart from taking the dirty secret to his grave.

  “I'm going to be sick,” Kara says, arms pressed tight, clutching her belly. “I can't stop thinking about the Draytons. Jesus, I was going to fucking marry one of them!”

  “You aren't anymore,” I say, pulling her onto my lap, running my fingers softly through her hair. “That's all that matters, babe. You didn't know. Your father was hellbent on making sure you'd never find out.”

  “I'm not sure that's true.” It takes her a moment to look at me. “I knew something didn't add up. He always walked away whenever I tried asking questions, told me he wouldn't talk about it. But the night he died, before he slipped into his coma for the last time...he wanted to tell me the truth, Ryan. I know he did. He regretted it. Knew he made a mistake. He knew I never stopped loving you.”

  I've forgiven Bart for what happened over the years. He saved my life, even if he had to become one of the biggest bastards in the world to do it.

  But hearing her tell me he cracked, almost confessed...I'm floored.

  It's too much to take in all at once. There are no words.

  So, I just sit there with her wrapped in my arms, rocking her on the chair next to the bed we just crashed. Entire worlds split apart, burn, and start to make sense.

  The alarm on my phone goes off, the last warning I set to get going to the airport, jarring us out of our emotional trance. She throws her arms around me, wiping the tears that have already begun falling, burying her face in my chest.

  I kiss her, hold her, rock her like the miracle she is.

  Christ, I've taken her back, against the odds, and I'll never, ever let her go.

  “You have to come clean,” she says, looking up. “Jesus, Ryan. We have to find the right authorities, clear your name, tell them what really happened. There has to be some kind of statement we can make, something to lead them in the right direction, even if there's no evidence.”

  I nod, knowing there's only one way we've got a chance. She's still shaking, and it takes me a minute to calm her, folding my embrace tighter.

  “God, what was he thinking?” she snarls, banging her fists on her knees. “I can't believe daddy burned the creep's book.”

  “Not everything,” I say, smiling when I see the hope sparking in her eyes. “I stuffed a single page in my pocket. Forgot about it until the first driver gave me a break the next morning, taking me out of Wisconsin. I've kept it after all these years, and had a P.I. take a look at several of those names.

  “And?” I can tell she's holding her breath.

  “One's behind bars, busted for sex trafficking in Chicago a couple years back. The others are like him – entitled, heartless bastards who believe they can do the sickest shit in the world and never get caught. One good lead will bring them down, soon as we bring it to the right place. I would've done it already, but bringing you back into my life was more important. Plus the town might've beat me alive if they realized who I was the day I came in to cut the banner, opening Punch Corp here.”

  “We shouldn't wait,” she says, standing up, her hand still grabbing at mine. “We should go now, or as soon as we land in Seattle. If we talk to the police there, surely they won't be corrupted by the Draytons.”

  “It's time to go, Kara-bou,” I tell her, planting one more kiss on her forehead. “I have a few ideas, and we're going to discuss everything on the flight out there. Then we're going to forget all this, enjoy some alone time, and remember why every fucking punch we've taken is absolutely worth it.”

  When we're finished dressing, I take her hand. There's hardly a moment her fingers leave mine the whole way to the airport.

  11

  Rekindled (Kara)

  It's a big blue Gulfstream jet that takes us to heaven, emblazoned with the Punch Corp logo on the tail. I've never been on a private plane before. Ryan teases me the whole way to Seattle. We share wine and coffee. I curl up next to him on the ivory sofa, only looking up when someone from the crew comes by to ask us if there's anything else we need.

  The next three days are whirlwinds. He shuttles me around to the city's best restaurants, the art museum, and half a dozen awesome coffeehouses. I'm going to go home bursting with new ideas for Grounded.

  He also shows me the places where he started his company, built it from the ground up with long hours, a little luck, and lots of networking with the right people. It's incredible to see what he's accomplished since his time in the garage. I wish daddy were here to see everything.

  We've both forgiven daddy, now that the hard truth is out. He lied to me, left my heart in pieces, but there's no telling what I would've become if I'd known what happened sooner.

  We've lost too much time looking back. Moving forward, that's what counts. There's a spring in my step every time I think about going home, clearing his name, and starting over.

  The last day, we're coming back from Bainbridge Island, watching several kids chasing each other playfully on the deck of our ferry. I'm exhausted, but I can't remember the last time I was ever this happy.

  Ryan clasps my hand as I lean into him. “Well, Kara-bou, what do you think?”

  I give him a smile broader than the distant mountains. “It's a lot to take in, but I like it. Only thing that's missing out here is a lighthouse.”

  “Armitage would be a great end to the day, no doubt. Lucky for you, I've got something better planned.”

  Better? He won't tell me, won't even drop a hint, no matter how many times I beg between disembarking from the ship and getting into the car with our driver. He takes us across town, now dark and lit with a thousand tinsel lights. I still don't have a clue where we're going until the Space Needle looms large above us.

  I'm excited. It's nothing compared to following him quickly through the park and taking the elevator up. In less than a minute, we're at the top of the world, staring down into the dark lights, and very alone.

  “Who'd you shakedown to arrange this?” I ask, when we're standing out on the observation deck, me sinking into his embrace.

  “I made a lot of donations in the right places last year. Consider this one of the perks. It's just you, me, the city, and a whole lot of night, babe. Nowhere else I'd rather be.”

  We're quiet for a little bit, staring down at the beautiful scenery. I pull my coat tighter, leaning into him, steeling my body against the cold. It's such a spectacular view I forget the numbness fighting its way into my skin.

  “God, this is beautiful. I don't want it to end.”

  “It won't,” he growls, running his hand up my side, stopping with his fingers on my face. “I've danced plenty of times with the pretty lights and tall buildings down there. Built a name for myself that seems like it's got no limit. Wined and dined with rich men and women alike, politicians, lawyers, and geniuses who all wanted to shake my hand and welcome me to their world.”

  His chest vibrates gently against my ear. I love the deep, rich sound of his voice. It's a soothing echo I could listen to forever.

  He turns my face up, bathing me in his ocean blue eyes, now reflecting the Seattle night's glories above and below us. “I didn't do any of this for anybody or anything down there, majestic as it is. Right now, I'm looking at the only thing I've ever cherished. This view's so beautiful I'm going to take your lips to remind me I haven't died and gone to heaven.”

  Neither of us hesitates. He kisses me hard, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth.

  It's salty, possessive, and so fucking hot. It's the kiss I've needed my whole life, the kind of kiss that ruins me, because I'll never accept another that's weaker than this.

  I turn in his arms, wrap my hands around his neck, and urge his tongue into mine. Six hundred feet in the air, the wind at my back, and I'm still sweating in his rock hard arms. Having him up here in his suit, both of us looking down on the world like roy
alty, brings me an extra thrill when I imagine the freaky, intricate ink underneath beneath his clothes.

  That's the ink I want to be tangled up in forever, especially tonight, when he brings me back to his condo and fucks me senseless.

  I think I'm addicted. It only takes a few more furious kisses before I'm moaning into his mouth, spreading my legs and grinding against his knee, aching a little more every second he isn't buried inside me.

  It would be perfect, if only it weren't for the hammer hanging over our heads. I think about the mess back home, and my kiss wilts the next time he comes back for more, his hands gliding down my back to cup my ass.

  “What's wrong, Kara-bou?” He looks at me, lust and concern churning on his gorgeous face.

  “Tell me you've thought about what I suggested last night,” I say, gently pulling away from him. “You know, about bringing in Matt?”

  “Your brother's got no love for me, and I don't blame him,” he says, taking me by the hand. We walk to the other side of the observation deck, where we can see the ocean below, its blackness only broken by stabs of light from the ships streaming across it every few minutes.

  “Look, I know it's not his fight. He's got his own problems, and you don't want to bring him into it when he hates your freaking guts.” I sigh, wondering what combination of words I can use to reason with him. “But it's the best chance I think we've got to clear you, Ryan. Do it with him and mom first, and then the whole town will listen. I don't care what kind of influence the Drayton's have. Even Sheriff Dixon won't arrest a decorated Marine for showing him the truth.”

  “That's what I like about you, babe,” he says, after several tense seconds. “You're always cutting straight to the root. If your family hasn't squealed on me yet, then there's something holding them back.”

  “Damn right,” I snap, tightening my fingers in his grip. “I'll invite them to Grounded. We can all sit down in a safe place and talk. Bring the copies you have of the page you saved from Nelson's folder. Matt's a good man, Ryan. He'll stop being a hothead lined up against you as soon as he sees the evidence.”