Four Simple Words: A Badass and the Billionaires Contemporary Romance (The Sisters Quartet Book 4)

by Mary J. Williams

  "Trouble?" His tone was matter of fact. "Anything to do with the bandage on the back of your neck?"

  So much for her effort to hide the wound. Destry didn't have time to wonder at his composure. Maybe he was used to getting into fights. Maybe, like her, he needed a little danger in his life—or a lot. Or, maybe he was a raving fool who didn't have the good sense to know when to abandon a sinking ship and run.

  Either way, if they stayed and fought, the odds were two to one against them. Destry knew she could handle a couple of overweight, out of shape men—more if necessary. The man next to her looked fit enough to take on all comers. They would likely walk away winners—unless the Clyde clan called for backup.

  If alone, she'd take her chances. Whenever possible, Destry kept other people out of her messes.

  "They won't expect us to make the first move."

  Destry almost laughed at the eagerness in his voice and the look of anticipation on his face—a look she recognized too well. Damn, they were more alike than she could have guessed.

  "Be a shame to mess up your pretty face." Mind made up, she nodded toward the back. "Our first move is the exit."

  "After you."

  "Really?" Destry rolled her eyes at his male bravado. "Together."

  "Too late," he said, grinning.

  In spite of herself, Destry grinned back. What choice did she have?

  With a speed that belied their size, three of the men charged toward them. Well, crap, Destry thought, bracing herself. For the first time in her life, she picked flight over fight and look where the decision got her. Smackdab in the middle of a bar fight. Resigned—and more eager than the coolness of her expression indicated—she dropped the first man to reach her with one punch.

  "Glass jaw," she observed.

  Back to hers, her companion snorted and swung at attacker number two.

  "Must run in the family," he said as three hundred pounds of blubber hit the floor. "Looks as though their pal changed his mind."

  Destry watched as the remaining man backed away. Still, she wasn't ready to declare victory. If what Sheriff Whitmore had told her about the far-reaching Clyde clan was true, reinforcements could arrive at any second.

  "Do you have a car?"

  "Truck."

  "Let's go."

  Destry grabbed her backpack. They skirted around the prone bodies and ran full speed toward the exit. Ten seconds later, they were in the parking lot. When he would have opened the passenger door of an old dusty Ford, she shoved him out of the way.

  "No time for gallantry."

  A car barreled into the lot at full speed. The tires barely screeched to a halt when all four doors opened; one body after another piled out.

  "Something tells me they're here for us. Get your butt behind the wheel and drive."

  Destry didn't have to ask twice. He started the motor and hit the gas.

  "They're right behind us," he growled.

  "We have enough of a head start. Take the first right," she instructed. "Then left, and another right."

  He followed her instructions without question. With admirable skill, he took the last turn into a darkened alley and put on the brakes. They waited silently, letting out a sigh of relief as the car with their pursuers flew by in a cloud of dust.

  "Nice." He sent her a grin. "How'd you know where to go? You from around here?"

  Blood humming from the fight and the chase, Destry shook her head.

  "I always scout the best getaway routes." A trick she picked up from her father.

  "These getaway routes? They come in handy often?"

  "Now and then."

  "You aren't going to explain, are you?"

  "Nope."

  "Okay." He gave a good-natured chuckle. "I'm Liam, by the way."

  "Nice name." Destry kept hers to herself. "Best we leave your truck out of sight for now. You up for a little run, Liam?"

  "Depends. How little, and where are we headed?"

  She admired a man who kept his questions brief and on point.

  "A couple of blocks to my hotel room."

  "What the hell are we waiting for?"

  As he proved in the bar, Liam was in good shape and easily kept up with Destry's fast clip. Her room, farthest from the motel office, was secluded by choice. Before she left, she'd unscrewed the bulb over the door, leaving the area shadowed. Taking the key from her pack, she turned the lock. Turning, she blocked the entrance.

  "We can say goodbye right now."

  Liam paused a beat.

  "What's the alternative?"

  "Depends. Are you an angel in bed, or the devil?"

  "I try to be a good man. But I can be very bad—when necessary." The fire in his blue eyes made Destry's breath catch in her throat. "Do you need me to be bad?"

  "Yes." God, yes!

  "If I do, will you tell why those men attacked you? Attacked us?"

  "I put one of their relatives in jail. End of story."

  Destry held her breath, hoping Liam would be satisfied with her abridged explanation and leave well enough alone.

  "Huh." His sexy grin widened. He pushed past her, slamming the door. "Okay. Let's get bad together."

  Grinning like demented fools, they undressed with more haste than finesse. The point wasn't to tease or titillate. All they cared about was getting naked—as quickly as possible.

  Clothing flew in every direction. Destry hopped around as she tried to untie her boots. Instead, she mangled the laces into a series of immovable knots.

  "Loafers," she grumbled, taking a seat on the floor with a growl.

  "Excuse me?" Jeans around his knees, Liam paused.

  "I should have worn loafers. Or boots like yours that I could toe off. Damn." Giving up on the mess of her own making, Destry reached for her backpack. "I need scissors."

  "Let me." Chuckling, Liam knelt, pushing away her hands before she could cut the strings. Patiently, he unlaced her boots, removing one then the other.

  "I was in a hurry," Destry said as she leaned back, happy to let him take over.

  "You'll thank me when you need to tie them again."

  "Mmm," she agreed, her attention snagged by Liam's strong, sleek, mouthwatering body.

  His position at her feet allowed her to take a long, appreciative look. Covered by only a pair of form-fitting boxer shorts, she searched every inch of him for a discernable flaw. Destry let out a sigh ragged with need. He was pure perfection from the top of his tousled dark hair to the tip of his surprisingly sexy toes.

  The knowing half smile on Liam's lips told her he was aware of her perusal. Obviously comfortable in his own skin, the gleam in his dark-blue eyes said he didn't mind, she could look all she wanted.

  Tired of looking, Destry threw herself at Liam. She pushed him to his back and straddled his hips. She wanted to touch. She wanted to feed the fire in her blood. She wanted him.

  "Play time's over."

  "Tell me what you want." Liam ran his hand up her bare stomach, cupping her breast through the thin material of her plain, cotton bra. "Tell me what you need."

  "Hard. Fast. Now!"

  Destry pulled Liam's lips to hers. Their first kiss wasn't a gentle exploration of two lovers getting to know each other. The kiss was hot, primitive, and purely carnal.

  "Shit," Liam gasped against the side of her neck. "I don't have a condom."

  "I do."

  She pulled a condom from her backpack. As Liam dispensed with his boxers, Destry wiggled out of her jeans, taking her underwear with them. By the time her bra landed on the bed, he was ready for her. And she was more than ready for him.

  "Yes!" she cried out, joining their bodies in one smooth, even motion.

  Liam's groan of pleasure matched hers. His fingers bit into her skin, and his hips rose and fell, but he let her set the pace exactly as she requested. Hard and fast. Her breathing ragged, she pushed toward one goal—release and relief. Higher, higher.<
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  Close, Destry dug her fingers into Liam's hair. Blindly, their mouths sought and found each other again, their gasps and sighs echoing through the room. His arms snaked around her waist, fusing their bodies together.

  "Now?" he ground out, teeth clenched.

  "God, yes!"

  Destry didn't fall, she hurdled over the edge with complete, unfettered abandon, savoring every last burst of energy until she collapsed onto Liam's chest like a very satisfied ragdoll.

  "Words fail me."

  "The sex was great. What else needs to be said?"

  "Beats me." Liam's hands lingered on the small of Destry's back. "Except—"

  Worried he might ruin the mood, she shook her head as she gently placed a finger to his lips.

  "Did you have fun tonight?"

  Liam nodded.

  "Nothing else matters." Destry rolled to her feet and headed to the bathroom. Her legs were a little wobbly, but she managed to stay upright. "Live for the moment."

  "An old family motto?" he called out.

  "Kind of."

  At least one side of her family. Destry let the tap run until the water was ice cold. Miller was far from perfect—the understatement of all understatements. However, he knew how to live without regrets. She appreciated the theory even if the principle was impossible to follow for someone with a conscience.

  Leaning over the sink, Destry splashed her face and sighed. When she was a teenager, unsure of so many things, she worried her father's bad blood was too strong, too dominant. She suppressed her wild side, tried to be good, and ended up miserable.

  Luckily, her sisters encouraged her to be herself. They had faith, even when Destry had her doubts. She learned a lot about who she was since then. To be happy, she had to embrace who she was—good and bad. Turned out she was a born do-gooder. Though her methods often skirted the law, she never crossed the line.

  "Probably should've asked sooner—all things considered. Seems I didn't catch your name."

  Destry looked into the mirror. Strange how her name often turned out to be more of a problem than her attitude. Taking a towel from the rack, she wiped her face. Naked, Liam lay on the bed, his back against the headboard.

  "You can't catch what I didn't throw."

  "True," he nodded. "Should I ask, or would the effort be pointless?"

  "I like your accent. Ireland, right?"

  "Mm." Eyes narrowed, Liam scratched his chin. "You get to question me but you won't give me the same consideration."

  "Right the first time." When his expression darkened, Destry relented. "One question—but my name is off the table."

  "Will I ever see you again?"

  "Doubtful."

  Liam opened his mouth. Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Destry's phone. She read the text and let out a sigh of relief. Her ride out of town waited in the parking lot. Talk about perfect timing.

  Comfortable with going commando, Destry pulled on her jeans and shirt. She couldn't abide the idea of used panties, and she didn't want to wade through her pack for a clean pair. Her breasts were on the generous size, but blessedly perky. When she chose to go without a bra, she jiggled, but everything tended to stay where nature intended.

  "What's the hurry?" Liam frowned.

  "I have to go."

  Destry extracted some cash from her wallet before she retrieved her gun. Out of habit, she checked the magazine, then tucked the weapon into the waistband of her jeans, nestled in the small of her back.

  "Are you kidding me?" Irate, Liam jumped from the bed.

  "Don't worry, I won't shoot you."

  "Fuck the gun. Did you just leave money on the dresser? Like I'm a hooker?"

  Because he looked so offended, and she understood why, Destry tried not to laugh at what had to be one of the most ridiculous situations she'd ever encountered—her crazy childhood included. Biting the inside of her cheek, she swallowed. She felt a surge of pride when only a small snort snuck past her lips.

  "The money is for the bar food, not services rendered." She slung her pack over one shoulder. "Bet or no bet, I never meant to stick you with the tab."

  "I can afford a few onion rings." Liam took a closer look at the money. "Three hundred bucks? I don't know if I'm flattered or offended."

  Destry rolled her eyes. Men and their egos. Thank goodness she was blessed with sisters.

  "Take your pick. But believe me, if you decide to turn tricks for a living, you're worth a lot more."

  "Gee, thanks." Sarcasm dripped from each word like bitter honey.

  "Keep the money or give it to charity—your choice." Liam stopped her before she could reach the door. Destry sighed. "I really do have to go."

  "I know." Lightly, he brushed his lips over hers. His eyes, the deepest blue she'd ever seen, crinkled as he smiled. Good to know he didn't hold a grudge—deserved or not. "I had fun."

  "Me, too."

  Taking a second, Destry allowed herself to sink into a longer, deeper kiss goodbye. She touched Liam's cheek, gave his wonderfully soft beard a tug and smiled. Without another word, she turned and did what she was so good at. She walked away without regret.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ~~~~

  TIRED, BUT HAPPY to be back, Destry let herself in the front door of her family's Upper East Side house. More of a mansion, really. However, to her, the six-story edifice, filled with museum-quality works of art, was and always would be, home.

  Dropping her backpack, Destry stretched her arms over her head and gave the foyer a close inspection. As usual, the room was immaculate—a place for everything and everything in its place. Mrs. Finch wouldn't stand for less.

  Used to the opulence, she too often rushed by the gleaming marble floors, the highly polished furniture, and the expensive vases overflowing with seasonal flowers without a second thought. However, when she was away for any length of time, she always paused to appreciate the beauty.

  Slowly, Destry walked around the room, letting her fingers trail over the familiar features. She was lucky to have someplace to come back to where she was welcomed with loving, open arms. Not everyone, no matter their social or financial status, was so lucky.

  Built by her great-grandfather over a century ago to show off his wealth, nurtured by her grandfather with miserly glee, and taken for granted by her mother as her due, Destry and her sisters were the first generation of Benedicts to love the house. They didn't care about the monetary value. What mattered were the memories, new and old.

  A sanctuary from the outside world, she, Andi, Calder, and Bryce were fiercely protective of every inch. Though some had tried—still tried—to take their home from them, they stood strong against all comers—together, as always.

  "The prodigal daughter returns at last. Welcome home, Destry."

  A shiver of revulsion beyond anything she'd ever experienced ran up Destry's spine. She recognized the all too smooth voice and felt her happiness drain away. Her home, her sanctuary, had been invaded by the slitheriest of snakes. Worse, thanks to her mother's need for a man to validate her existence, he was the father of Destry's soon-to-be-born half-brother.

  While she was happy to welcome another sibling, the idea of Ingo Hunter as a permanent member of her family had her head ready to explode at any second.

  "What are you doing here?" Destry kept her voice neutral when all she wanted to do was wipe the smug smirk off Hunter's face.

  "Where else would I be except by the side of my darling Billie?"

  If she could put aside her animosity for a moment, Destry would have to admit Ingo Hunter was an attractive man. Pushing sixty, he wore his age well—with the help of cosmetic surgery and the best facials, dermabrasions, and who knew what else money could buy.

  Middle-aged paunch aside, which he hid behind an expertly tailored suit, Hunter maintained a trim physique. Jet-black hair winged with silver at the temples, dark eyes, and a square jaw right out of Hollywood central casting. O
n the surface, he was a perfect match for the youth-chasing Billie Benedict. However, the surface could be deceiving.

  Ingo Hunter might seem like the real deal—rich, handsome, attentive to his pregnant fiancé—but after months of investigation, Destry knew he was a fake. Money and power guided him unscathed through a lifetime of dirty deals and underhanded machinations.

  But big fat cracks had formed in Ingo Hunter's smoothly polished veneer. Soon, with the help from their friends, Destry and her sisters would send his world crashing to the ground.

  "We haven't seen you for weeks." She pretended to contemplate how long. The fact was, she remembered every blissful, Hunter-free second. "You disappeared around the time you hired a couple of thugs to kill my sister."

  Destry had to give the man credit. Her accusation barely elicited a reaction—just a twitch in the corner of one eye. But she could tell she'd hit a nerve.

  "Don't be ridiculous." Hunter brushed off Destry's accusation the way he'd deal with an annoying fly. "I had nothing to do with Bryce's unfortunate brush with mortality."

  Unfortunate brush with death? Destry saw red, and if she weren't fairly certain Hunter would enjoy her loss of control, she would have kicked the bastard's ass out the door. Instead of her fists, she used something almost as satisfying—her words.

  "She was terrorized and beaten, you pompous prick. If Bryce hadn't fought back, you would have gotten your wish. Her inheritance would revert to Billie, and through Billie, to you."

  "Such a talent with fiction. And I thought your sister was the writer." Hunter reached out as if to give Destry's arm a condescending pat. The feral glint in her eyes and a healthy dose of self-preservation made him drop his hand to his side.

  "I don't understand why you and your sisters are so determined to paint me the villain, dear Destry. After all, the men who attacked Bryce were Zach Devlin's brothers—her newly minted fiancé. Yet, you welcomed him with open arms. If I were the sensitive type, I'd be crushed that you haven't extended the same red-carpet treatment to me."

  "Zach loves Bryce and would die before he hurt a hair on her head." Unblinking, Destry looked Hunter in the eye. "Can you claim the same devotion to my mother?"