by Melody Anne
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX Ace felt confident as he went to the location Nestor had agreed to meet him. Of course, it was a trap. Ace wasn’t a fool. But Nestor’s ego was going to be what took him down. Yes, the man would have his goons there, but he wasn’t prepared for Ace’s backup, either. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to assume Ace would come alone, but he knew Ace had injuries, and he was counting on that to make him weak. The man didn’t know who he was. Rage was all he needed to wipe this man out. There was no way Ace was going to leave any more stones unturned. Not only had this idiot been foolish enough to come after Ace, but he’d attacked Dakota. Ace wasn’t going to allow that to happen again—not ever. This ended today—one way or another. His body was weak, and Ace didn’t try to hide that fact. The worse off Nestor thought he was, the more victorious the creep would feel. His overconfidence would be his undoing. All along Ace had planned on being the bait. He had done it before, and this
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN Ace was having déjà vu when he awoke to the sound of hospital monitors and the smell of antiseptic. This time, though, he wasn’t worried about his safety. This time he knew his family would be there, and Dakota couldn’t be far away. He didn’t hesitate to open his eyes. His head was pounding, but he blinked away the blurriness of his vision as he tried to focus on who was in the room with him. He was pleased when he saw his uncle Sherman, his mother, and his brothers. He wasn’t happy when he didn’t find who he truly wanted to be there. “Where’s Dakota?” he asked. “We’re happy to see you too,” Sherman said with a half smile. “Where is she?” he repeated. “She’s in the room next to you, just as grumpy as you are,” Cooper told him. “Take me to her,” he demanded. “You have been shot multiple times, stabbed, and you have lost a lot of blood. You shouldn’t be going anywhere,” Nick said. “You can either help me or I’m ripping out lines again,” he threatened. Cooper sighed a
EPILOGUE Looking into the mirror, Dakota couldn’t quit grinning, though her cheeks now hurt from doing it all day long. Today was the day. Today she had married the man she couldn’t live without. He was not only her hero and protector; he had saved her as much as she had saved him. He’d wanted to marry her that day at the hospital, but not only had she insisted on having her fairy-tale wedding, but her mother would have beaten Ace alive if he’d deprived her of an extravagant wedding celebration. Dakota was her only daughter, and Juliana had dreamed of this day for her daughter’s entire life. And so far, it was more perfect than Dakota could have ever imagined. Her brothers had put Ace through hell for risking her life, but with time, they’d seen how much Ace loved her and how much she loved him, so they’d loosened up—a little. The wedding had been planned in three months. Ace had been a mess the entire time. She didn’t know why. They hadn’t spent a single night apart until last night,
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This is always the hardest part for me to write, because there are hundreds of people who help me, influence me, and make it possible for me to succeed. I can’t do this alone, and I never would want to. Being an author is a privilege that I will never take for granted. There are still days I don’t want to blink for fear that it will all have been nothing more than a dream. Then I wake up, come to my computer, and realize it’s real, that I’m living this dream of a life. First off, thank you so much to my fans. Thank you for believing in me and my stories, for sharing my love of writing, for sharing your experiences with me, and for always being there. I love to talk with you, meet you, and share our lives together. I am nothing without you, and that is something I will never forget. Thank you to my amazing editors. Again, this process can’t be done alone. I don’t want to write the same story over and over again. I don’t want to repeat myself, or get lazy in my writing. I
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo © 2014 Edward Hart Melody Anne is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has written a number of popular series, including Billionaire Bachelors, Surrender, and Baby for the Billionaire. Along with romance and young adult novels, Melody has also recently collaborated with fellow authors J.S. Scott and Ruth Cardello for Taken by a Trillionaire. Turbulent Intrigue is the fourth book in Melody’s Billionaire Aviators series. A country girl at heart, Melody loves the small town and strong community she lives in. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, friends, and beloved pets. Most of all, she loves being able to do what makes her happiest . . . living in a fantasy world (for at least 95 percent of the time).
ALSO BY MELODY ANNE
The Billionaire Aviators series
Turbulent Intentions
Turbulent Desires
Turbulent Waters
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2017 Melody Anne
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542046206
ISBN-10: 1542046203
Cover design by Eileen Carey
Cover photography by Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign.com
I want to dedicate this book to Emmy McCormack. You have changed my life in all the best ways. You make me realize the person inside me has always been there, wanting to come out. I’m stronger, happier, and ready to say, “I can” instead of “I failed.” I love you!
CONTENTS
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
This book was so fun for me to write. I truly enjoyed both Ace and Dakota. I’ve never made a heroine quite like her, and she mimics very strong women I have so much respect for. Something that will be fun for readers is to look for all the places she gets common sayings wrong. I made sure to change them just enough to make it fun in both her internal thoughts and when she’s talking to people. The more flustered she gets, the more she will slay a common saying. Send me messages and let me know when you find them.
PROLOGUE
The house was in utter disarray, with the doors hanging on their hinges, the floors scattered with blood and soot, the walls torn to pieces, priceless paintings broken, vases shattered.
Nestor walked through the rubbish, his face blank, the men around him uneasily looking around as they carried weapons in their tense fingers. Slowly, the group advanced, walking through the hallways, practically hear
ing the cries for help.
It was over. The fight was over, but the blood splatter told the story of a vicious battle. War had been waged, and someone would pay the price. They moved to the kitchen, where the walls had been blown apart, where it was impossible to tell the blood from the ash.
Nestor stopped. His men were silent. Maybe it was seconds, and maybe time didn’t matter. But finally he looked up, his eyes filled with hatred, his body trembling.
“Find out who is responsible for this,” he said, his voice cold. “They will pay.”
Those were the last words spoken in this broken house. Revenge would come swift and with purpose. People would die.
CHAPTER ONE
ONE DAY EARLIER
His adrenaline pumping, Ace Armstrong watched as the final pieces went into place in the huge house he was using as a front to draw in the heavy players in this drug cartel. There was one person he was after in particular—Anton Pavlov. He was the worst of the worst in this twisted family, having killed hundreds of people with his own hands and thousands of others through his command.
But he couldn’t just go after Anton. He had to take down the entire gang. If he didn’t, there would be loose ends—there would be too many people seeking revenge. When this was over, Ace wanted it to be absolutely over. He wanted to be able to go home without putting his family in danger.
When he had walked away from those he loved so many years before, at the reading of his father’s will, when the old man had listed the provisions to earning their inheritances, he’d been angry. Over time, that anger had faded, but then he’d stumbled into a man who had recruited him for the CIA. He’d thought he’d found the right path in life. It had been the right thing for him for many years.
Now he was so hard from the outside in that he wasn’t sure his family would want him back. But the recent tragedies that had plagued his brothers had sent a yearning through him that made it impossible for him to stay away any longer. The sooner this case closed, the quicker he would be able to go home and make sure his loved ones were still okay.
“We’ve finished setting up, Mr. Smithers,” the caterer said, breaking Ace out of his reverie. He’d gone by the name Steve Smithers since this operation began. He didn’t hesitate at all when the man spoke to him.
“Very good, Emanuel. Thank you for the hard work,” Ace told him.
The man turned and walked away. Ace moved through the house. Everything was in perfect order. The lights, decorations, and food were good enough to host the president of the United States. That’s what it had taken to lead Anton, and his colleague Nixon, to Ace.
Hidden cameras covered every inch of the place, and Ace had three concealed weapons on him. The waitstaff were all undercover CIA agents who had orders to protect the operation at all costs. They wanted this documented, and they wanted to make sure no stone went unturned.
It was almost showtime. He was more than ready. One more quick walk-through, and then he went and changed. In the blink of an eye, people began moving through the large mansion.
The party was going off without a hitch, and Ace felt like a monkey in a suit in the custom-made tux that fit him to perfection. He had to dress the part of a successful member of the drug cartel. A lot of money passed between people in this business, and anyone who got in the way of that money trading hands would be eliminated. It was simply that cut-and-dried.
“He’s moving toward you.”
The slight nod of Ace’s head wouldn’t be noticed by any of the goons wandering this ridiculously spacious mansion. The heads-up was delivered to him through a nearly invisible earpiece by one of the men watching the cameras. The man prepped Ace so he was ready when Anton stepped up to him a couple of seconds later.
“You outdid yourself for this party,” Anton told him.
“Only the best for you. You told me this deal was big, so we want to make our guests comfortable,” Ace easily replied.
“You are my most trusted asset in this organization,” Anton told him. “Not an easy task in only four years.”
“I appreciate your trust in me,” Ace said, though the words practically choked him.
“Your body language is expressing rage. Better be careful,” the man in his headpiece said.
Ace forced himself to relax. It was almost time for this to go down. He certainly didn’t want to give himself away at the last minute. At least he didn’t have to try to smile. His reputation for being a coldhearted bastard was a useful tool.
“I want to thank you, Steve. You’ve been invaluable to me and have helped us make a lot of money,” Anton told him.
Though that was exactly what Ace had been trying to do—trying to ensure the trust of Anton. It still made him sick, how easily he’d been able to infiltrate the gang. He played the bad guy too well. Maybe that was truly who he was.
People who met him learned quickly not to cross him in any way. It had taken him time to cultivate the image of a stone-cold asshole. He took pride in passing that test—even if it was for the sake of the bad guys and to ensure his position to take them down. He feared, though, that it had changed him into the villain he’d been trying so hard to portray.
For eight years, Ace had worked for the CIA as an undercover agent with limited contact with the outside world. For the past four years, he’d been on one case, had been working on closing that case, ensnaring a world-renowned drug cartel who knew very well how to cover their tracks, how to keep in the shadows. He’d been their chief pilot, his past flying lessons coming in quite handy.
It had taken years for him to earn the trust of the top family members, but that was exactly what he’d done. And now it was almost over. He’d managed to make his entire family hate him—to keep them safe. But he wanted to go home, wanted to see if there was any way he could let go of this fake life he’d created and possibly have a different future than the one he’d lived since walking away from his family home.
There was a commotion by the door, and both Anton and Ace turned to see three large men walking into the room behind a small, older man wearing an original Westmancott suit that Ace knew was valued at over seventy thousand dollars. Money wasn’t something Ace had ever needed to worry about, growing up the way he had, but still, the thought of wearing something that ridiculous made him scoff at the drug dealer.
This was definitely a world where prestige and envy meant everything. No true emotion could ever be felt in a world of deceit and greed. Ace might have grown up with money, but he’d also had incredible parents. He could even admit he’d long ago forgiven his father for his meddling ways at the end of his life. While Ace might not have agreed with his father’s intrusive wishes, he could now let that go and move on, remembering his father for the many good years he’d given Ace and his brothers.
“Let’s make sure our party guest is pleased,” Anton told Ace.
“Of course,” Ace said.
The crowd parted for the two of them as they met Nixon Westworth in the middle of the room.
“I apologize for being late,” Nixon said. “My team was concerned by safety issues.”
“Safety is of the utmost importance,” Anton told the man.
“Yes. Still, I don’t think I want to stay longer than need be,” Nixon said with such arrogance, Ace found himself grinding his teeth together as he, Nixon, Anton, and the man’s goons walked out of the room into a quieter place where they could speak.
The sound of the partygoers was drowned out the moment they closed the door behind them. Then they immediately got down to business. Ace stood by as second in command as Nixon and Anton came up with reasonable terms, then they all shook hands. It was almost civilized—that was, if a person didn’t know what they were trading.
But the bottom line was that the operation had been a success. They had done it. Ace felt like smiling, knowing they had placed the final nail in the coffin of the Pavlov family. They also would get Nixon, which was an added bonus.
“We got them,” the voice in his ear sai
d, unease still in the man’s voice. Just because they had them didn’t mean the coming battle was going to be easy. The lives of good men could very easily be lost in the fray.
“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Nixon said. “I look forward to future business arrangements.”
“Me as well,” Anton told him. Ace simply nodded at the man, who smirked. Anton might trust him, but Nixon was an even more cynical man, if that could be believed.
“He’s not leaving the house” was the warning in Ace’s ear, making him tense. It was about to get a bit more hairy in only a few seconds. Nixon wasn’t getting away—none of them were.
They all walked out into the ballroom, and as Nixon began heading for the front door, it was kicked in, SWAT team members piling into the house. Anton and Nixon both stopped a few steps in front of Ace.
“If everyone cooperates, there’s no need for people to get hurt,” one of the SWAT guys yelled.
Of course, they were dealing with drug lords who would much rather go down shooting than surrender. Ace watched Anton pull out a weapon and take aim at a SWAT member. Ace couldn’t blow his cover, and he hoped like hell he wasn’t about to get shot down, but he wasn’t letting these criminals escape. No way.
“Drop it,” SWAT commanded.
Anton’s eyes narrowed as cold fury flooded his expression. He didn’t like being in this position.
“You damn well better have my back,” Anton told Ace.
“Always,” Ace said, knowing he sounded convincing.
A bullet whizzed past them, and both Ace and Anton jumped for cover in opposite directions. When Ace lifted his head, Anton was nowhere in sight. Damn it!
“Where is he?” Ace shouted.
“He’s not on camera,” the man in his earpiece replied.
