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

by Mary J. Williams

  "Nothing," Trey chimed in from three thousand miles away. "Send one my way. Not a lot of female companionship around here."

  "Help me out here, Trey," Liam sighed. "Models aren't the important part of the argument."

  "They are when I can't remember the last time I had sex."

  "Aw. You and Liam really are brothers." Bryce bumped her shoulder against Calder's. "They argue just like us."

  "Absolutely."

  For the love of Pete. Destry wanted to bang her head on the table. She tried to backtrack to the point where the conversation went off the rails. Somewhere when Liam started to agree with her. Good, she thought with satisfaction. One more thing she could blame on the big, Irish turd.

  "Andi?"

  "Yes, Destry?"

  "I am going to leave now."

  No one knew her better than Andi. Her sister could tell with one look that the threads on Destry's control were fraying fast. Before she said or did something everyone would regret except her, she needed to be alone.

  "Sounds like a good idea."

  "Goodbye, Trey. I'm glad we met."

  "So am I, Destry. Very glad. Next time you're in my neck of the woods, stop by to say hello."

  Destry nodded. She planned to do exactly as Trey suggested. After all, they would soon share a sibling. He was family now. Imagine, after a lifetime of sisters, two brothers all at once.

  Before she could leave, Liam blocked her path.

  "If you would just listen to me."

  "Please put your hand on me." The twinkle of anticipation in her eyes gave him pause. "Go on. Pretty please."

  Hands in the air, Liam stepped aside.

  "Smart man."

  As Destry walked past him, she wondered if she would see him again. Probably, she conceded. The real question was, did she want to. At the moment, she had no idea.

  What she needed was a run—long, fast, and exhausting. And then? The answer was the same as it had been since Ingo Hunter entered their lives. Take the bastard out. Any way possible.

  ~~~~

  LIAM FLINCHED AS Destry closed the French door with a gentle click. The sound was unsettling and slightly ominous. Angry Destry was annoying and frustrating as hell. But as long as she stayed and kept talking to him, he had a chance.

  With her gone, Liam had the feeling something important had slipped through his fingers.

  "Give her time." When Andi offered a cookie, he shook his head. "Destry has a pattern. Lose her temper, blow off steam, then gradually calm down. No skipping any of the steps, I'm afraid."

  "I didn't do anything wrong. Not knowingly."

  "I believe you. We all do."

  "Not Destry." Liam looked at the door again as if he could will her to return.

  "Deep down, she does. I have some advice if you're interested."

  "Please." About now, he'd take anything Andi had to offer.

  "Go home. Give her a few days. Destry won't admit she's ready to talk, but in time, she will be."

  "Waiting isn't my strong suit." Liam frowned when Andi laughed. "What?"

  "Just amazed at how much you and my sister have in common." She held up a silver tray. "Now, have a cookie. You'll feel better."

  Andi was right. About the cookie, and her advice. He would give Destry some space. Not too much or she might think they were through. But Liam knew better. They had just started.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ~~~~

  "WHAT DO YOU mean you're leaving?"

  The open backpack on Destry's bed could only mean one thing. After all the years she'd come and gone, Andi should have known the reason as well as anyone.

  "Silly question. I have a job—finally." She added four clean t-shirts. Then for good measure, added two more. "I started to worry my usefulness had come to an end."

  "The world always needs a crusader, caped or otherwise. I meant, why leave now?"

  "Again. I have a job. You remember? The thing I do to pass the time so I don't go crazy with boredom. Which, by the way, might have happened at any second. Thank goodness for dear old Mr. Demetri."

  "Who is dear old Mr. Demetri?"

  "My client." Destry grabbed a pile of underwear, more than she would need. "What is so hard to understand, Andi? Job. Pass the time. Mr. Demetri. Simple."

  "You never talk about your clients. Never."

  "Anonymity is part of the deal. Plus, the more you know, the more you worry."

  "I worry anyway." Andi sat on the bed. "Be honest. Most of the time, you can't share the details because you can't anticipate what you'll face. A big part of the fun is the mystery. I understand you're a danger junkie. But the best part of the adventure is the unknown."

  "My secret is out," Destry laughed as she considered which jacket to bring. Leather or denim. In the end, she decided to wear the one and pack the other.

  "Hardly a secret. I know you, remember?"

  "We know each other. So, what's the big deal all of a sudden if I go or stay?"

  "Your timing is a little strange. After what we learned from Trey, I thought you might want to stick around."

  "I can't do anything until we get a list of the properties Hunter still owns." Destry zipped up her bag. She would stop by the kitchen for a few supplies and to say goodbye to Mrs. Finch. Until then, she was done. "Don't worry. I won't be gone long. A week, probably less."

  "Are you still determined to play cat burglar?"

  "Tell me another way to find information to use against our enemy?" She joined Andi on the bed, placing her arm around her sister's waist. "If Trey's right and Hunter keeps physical copies of his secrets, someone has to check the safes. I'm the logical candidate."

  "Liam can help."

  "I knew he was the real reason you want me to stay. Tsk, tsk." Destry shook her head. "You complained mightily when Calder, Bryce, and I played matchmaker for you and Noah."

  "Complain? Me?" Andi's lips twitched. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Okay." Picking up her backpack, Destry chuckled. "Whatever you say."

  Andi followed her into the hall.

  "All I did was suggest you consider Liam's offer to help search Hunter's properties. Just as a backup. Aren't two sets of eyes better than one?"

  Rather than argue, Destry nodded. She would appease Andi for now. When the time came, she would do exactly as she wanted—alone as always.

  "Fine. I'll consider taking Liam with me."

  "One more thing." They jogged down the stairs, Andi dressed in flowing pants and a blouse of her own design, Destry in jeans, her favorite broken-in boots, and a long-sleeved cotton shirt over a plain white t-shirt—nothing designer about it. "Why, for the first time ever, did you tell me your client's name?"

  "Because the only secret Mr. Demetri wants to keep is his age. My guess, somewhere north of ninety. Every now and then, he asks me to deliver a package to his daughter in Greece. He's not a fan of the post office."

  "Drugs?" Andi asked, deadpan.

  "Pastry from his bakery. Paloma enjoys her father's famous baklava. She sends back pictures of the family. And I get to visit Athens."

  "Not very exciting."

  "I can make any job exciting."

  "Now, I really don't want to know."

  They stopped outside the kitchen. Destry wanted to finish their conversation before Mrs. Finch was in earshot.

  "Get in touch if you need me. Here, just in case you can't reach my phone." She handed Andi her flight number and the name of her hotel. "Anything, Andi. Don't hesitate. I'll catch the next flight home."

  If Destry really thought something would happen, she'd tell Mr. Demetri to find another courier. She felt confident she could leave for a few days. But, every now and then, the unexpected happened.

  "Do I smell banana bread?"

  Andi took a deep breath and nodded.

  "I better grab a piece before Mrs. Finch wraps up the entire loaf to send with you. Come on."
/>   Destry followed Andi into the kitchen. She hadn't told her sister the real reason she took the job because she wasn't happy with herself and didn't want to explain the unexplainable. Mooning over a man, even one as sexy as Liam Stanton, was not her style.

  She wasn't running away from the problem. Destry needed to think in a place she was certain Liam wouldn't suddenly turn up. She wanted to deal with him clear headed and emotion free.

  If not? If, when she returned, her emotions were still in turmoil? Another job was bound to come along. And another. And another. But, Destry assured herself, she was not running away.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ~~~~

  THE ATHENS METRO hotel wasn't four stars, neither was it a dump.

  Destry charged her clients for her expenses and tried to stay on budget. No one would know if she booked a nicer place to stay, but she would. If Mr. Demetri visited his daughter, the Metro would be within his means. And what was good enough for the dear, old baker was good enough for her.

  The job she came to Athens to do was complete. Sentimental and easily taken care of by one of several overnight delivery services, Destry was grateful Mr. Demetri stayed true to his old-world roots. He believed in the human touch, a personal connection he couldn't find with an efficient, but automated company.

  If not for him and people like him, Destry would be out of work. At the very least, her jobs would be fewer and far between.

  Paloma Papadopoulos, Mr. Demetri's beloved daughter, welcomed Destry like a long-lost member of the family. Hugs and kisses all around from the youngest child to the oldest cousin, she wasn't allowed to skip anyone.

  Destry's Greek consisted of enough words to get by—barely. Luckily, Paloma's family made up for her butchered version of the language with near-perfect English. She was fed, pampered, and fussed over. As adventures went, her Athens idle turned out to be pretty fantastic.

  Not a lot of danger to be found—unless she counted Paloma's grandson Nikko who, after one too many ouzos, decided she was the only woman for him. When Nikko's wife, Carla, informed Destry that she could have him, everyone laughed—and drank more ouzo. Danger averted.

  Two days later, Destry had nothing to keep her in Greece. Except for the impossibly blue Aegean Sea, the Dimotki Agora, a public market where she spent hours searching out hidden treasures, and, best of all, the feeling of wonderful anonymity as she lost herself among the tourists and native Athenians.

  The time away from New York was exactly what Destry had needed. She spent a lot of time thinking and a lot of time just being. As a result, she knew what she wanted.

  As she approached the hotel, Destry knew she was ready to go home.

  "Good afternoon, Ms. Benedict." The woman at the front desk greeted her with a smile. "You had a good walk?"

  "I did. Thank you." Destry picked up her key. "Any messages?"

  "No. But you do have a visitor. He's in the waiting area by the fireplace."

  A visitor? Puzzled, she scanned the room. She recognized several of her fellow guests. An American couple, obviously exhausted from a day of sightseeing, sprawled on the dark-blue sofa. To their right, two young Belgian women on their first adult vacation poured over a map as they sipped cups of rich, dark Greek coffee.

  Destry looked again but didn't see anyone who seemed to be there for her. Then, as she was about to ask the desk clerk, a man, previously blocked by a high-backed wing chair, stood. He didn't approach but waited for her to make the first move.

  "Liam," she whispered.

  He hadn't been far from her thoughts. Now that he was here, what would she do with him? The answer popped into her head—in vivid Technicolor.

  Slowly, but with purpose, Destry walked toward him. Keeping her eyes on his, she didn't smile or show any emotion. But her heart raced at a dangerous speed.

  Did she want him here? Was she glad he'd come? Yes. Oh, yes.

  "Hi." A brilliant greeting.

  "Hi." Liam took a deep breath then exhaled, slowly. "I—"

  "Don't speak."

  "But, I—"

  "For once in your life, follow orders."

  Destry took Liam's hand. The elevator was a few feet away. A ding sounded, and the doors opened. She pushed the button for floor number five.

  "Seems I've done nothing but follow your orders since the night we met," he muttered under his breath.

  They were alone for the ride. Destry shot him a sideways glance. Liam shrugged.

  "Just stating the facts. Didn't I prove on the night we met that I can follow orders?"

  "And yet, you keep talking."

  "I have a lot to say."

  "I'll listen."

  "Will you?

  The doubt she heard in Liam's voice was understandable. She left New York without a word to him. Her thoughts were clearer now, and she was ready to hear what he had to say. Later. Much later.

  "What part of don't speak did you not understand?"

  "I understand every—"

  Destry launched herself at him. One jump. He had a choice, catch her or let her fall. He caught her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and held on. Surprise flickered in his blue eyes, but he didn't protest, he grinned, just as her mouth covered his.

  A sigh of pleasure too long denied flowed through Destry's body, head to toe, pure and unadulterated. Whatever the issues they had to address, she needed Liam more, in an elemental way she hadn't experienced before. She was a fool to deny something so good, so right. No more. He was here, in her arms, and for now, nothing else mattered.

  The doors opened, and he walked out, Destry curled around him like an eager vine.

  "Left," she said against his mouth.

  As Liam changed the angle of the kiss, his teeth gently nipped her lower lip.

  "Room?"

  "Five-eleven." A tingle shuddered up her spine. "Again."

  Liam didn't have to ask what she meant. The nibble became a bite—not too hard—and Destry moaned. Her back hit the motel room door with a thud, Liam's hand behind her head as a cushion. Lordy, the man could kiss. He knew when to increase the pressure, when to ease off, and when to ramp up the pressure all over again.

  And his tongue. Magic. He tasted, and caressed, and teased all at once. And Destry melted.

  "Key?"

  "Hm?" She threaded her fingers through his hair, so soft, pulling him back. She resented even a moment's interruption.

  "Unless you want me to break down the door, which, if necessary, I will, you need to give me the key, Destry."

  "Front pocket."

  Destry easily could have retrieved the key from her jeans, but the way Liam searched, taking his time, was so much better. The well-worn denim was no protection from his touch and when his fingers grazed the oh-so-sensitive spot, the one between her legs, her laugh tumbled out breathless and a little wild.

  "I said the pocket."

  "Sorry. Bad sense of direction."

  "Doesn't bode well for the copulation part of our evening. You really, really need to know where you're going… down there."

  Liam's mouth curved into a smile where his lips were pressed against the curve of her neck.

  "Where?" He shifted her weight until his leg rode between hers. "Here?"

  "Holy—" Her head fell back. "Yes. Right there."

  Chuckling, Liam found the key and opened the door. With a sure kick, the latch engaged, shutting out the light from the hall.

  "Don't need to put on a show for the other guests."

  Destry wasn't a fan of overly enthusiastic displays of public affection. Yet, carried away by Liam's kisses and the way he touched her, she would have let him take her in full view of anyone who happened by.

  "You're dangerous," she said, biting his ear.

  "Glad you finally noticed."

  Hand cupping her butt, Liam fell onto the bed, his back to the mattress, Destry on top. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkened ro
om. Sunlight filtered through the closed curtains, enough for her to see him and the play of his hands over her bare arms.

  "I noticed everything," she assured him. "The moment I saw you, I knew you were trouble."

  "Danger and trouble? From you, the empress of both, the ultimate compliment."

  "Empress, huh?" Pleased, Destry pulled Liam's shirt over his head. "Why not queen?"

  "Not enough gravitas."

  "Gravitas. Impressive vocabulary, Mr. Stanton." She licked his chest. "Feels good on my tongue."

  "Me, or the word?"

  "Both."

  Destry tasted him again, adding her teeth to the equation. Liam's fingers dug into her hips as a groan of pleasure escaped from deep in his throat.

  "My turn."

  Before Destry could ask what he wanted, he showed her. She was on her back, a little dizzy from the sudden change of position, her hands over her head, locked in place by one of his. The position felt strange. Not bad exactly. But definitely out of her comfort zone.

  "You like to be in charge." Liam slipped his free hand under the hem of her t-shirt. "Believe me, I understand. For once, let someone else take the lead. Let me show you how to let go. How good I can make you feel."

  Liam didn't say, but Destry knew what he meant. Trust. Only five letters, but the meaning was big—at least for her. She didn't cede control easily, not even to her sisters who she trusted implicitly. Never to a man. She and vulnerability were not friends.

  Destry shook her head as pleasure warred with ingrained instinct.

  "Don't think I can."

  "I'd never hurt you," Liam soothed, with his lips and his words.

  "I know. But—"

  "You don't have to trust me, Destry. Not now." Liam looked into her eyes, and she realized she wasn't the only one who was vulnerable. "Just trust yourself."

  Destry didn't remember sending the command from her brain. Still, her head moved up and down in silent agreement. The tension left Liam's body as if he'd been poised for rejection.

  He stripped off her shirt, her bra fast behind. Rather than hold her hands in place, he curled her fingers around the metal bars of the headboard.