‘Why can’t we just do that all day?’ He said, puffing, ‘Instead of all of this adult responsibility and work and that crap.’
‘Making billions hitting a ball around some grass,’ she intoned back at him then grinning.
‘Hey,’ he said, smiling, ‘There are clay and hard courts too.’
She rolled onto her back. It’s probably best we don’t fuck all day; there might be some chaffing issues.’
Skandar laughed out loud. ‘Well, that ruined the moment. You are the best part of my day, Hayley Applebee, even if you’re killing my hard-on.’
Hayley laughed and rolled back on top of him. ‘That thing would survive nuclear war,’ she grinned, ‘at the end of time, it’ll be cockroaches, Twinkies, and your boner.’
Skandar groaned. ‘Stop, it’ll retract into nothing if you carry on like that.’
She giggled and reached down to stroke him. ‘Hmmm…wonder what we could do about that?’
Skandar rolled her onto her back and hitched her legs around his hips. ‘I wonder…’
Sydney, 10.30 p.m.
Blood. Blooming red on white. Screaming. Panic. Paparazzi scurrying away from the scene, security desperately looking for the gun.
And in the midst of the melee, broken hearted pleading of ‘No, please, please…’
Seattle, 8.00 a.m.
Her small hand on his chest was one of Jakob Mallory’s favorite ways to wake up. He looked down at Quilla’s divine, serene face as she slept beside him. My wife. After he’d proposed to her on the island, they’d flown to the big island and found a Justice of the Peace to marry them the very next day. Jakob had told her it was entirely up to her whether she wanted to keep her own name and she told him that she would. ‘Just so I don’t disappear into being a ‘Mallory wife,' she grinned, but her eyes were wary.
‘That would never happen, Ms. Chen,’ he grinned.
‘How about I’m Mrs. Mallory when it’s just you and me and the family?’
‘I like that.’
Now, he took her hand in his, rubbing his finger over the small platinum band. His wife. He never thought he would be married, especially not after he’d started on the drugs, spiraling down so fast it was almost unbelievable. Then Venice, then Quilla, hauling his ass out of the drink and making him fall so in love with her, then Gregor and his knife. They’d been through so much together in the space of a few months.
Quilla stirred and opened her eyes, smiling up at him. ‘You’re still here,’ she said sleepily, ‘no work today?’
‘Nah,’ He kissed her, ‘thought I’d take the day off, hang with my woman.’
‘When’s she coming over?’
He laughed and covered her body with his. His cock was already stiffening as she hooked a leg around his waist, arching her body up into his. He buried his face in her neck, trailing his lips down across her collarbone as Quilla slid her hot sex along his thigh. He looked into her eyes and she smiled.
‘Take me now,’ she whispered and grinning, he launched into her – God, that gasp when his cock found her center – and began to thrust, his cock thickening and swelling inside her. He kissed her throat as she threw her head back, lost in the sweet sensation of their fucking. He knew he would never get tired of making love to her, talking to her, laughing with her. He’d told her once he didn’t want kids – he didn’t even remember that person now – he wanted a hundred little Quilla’s running about the place.
Afterward, they showered and screwed again under the hard pelt of water, Quilla shrieking as he turned the cold water onto her hard nipples – Christ, the sight of the water bouncing off them made him so hard, he had to have her again, against the wall of the shower.
She was making breakfast when he finished dressing – Spanish omelets and fresh fruit. He sat across the breakfast bar and studied her as they ate. She finally was looking like that girl he met in Venice again, happy, relaxed, even though the threat to her life was in no way diminished. Gregor was still out there, still obsessed with her, with killing her. Jakob risked it and asked her.
Quilla shrugged. ‘Talking about it helped and now that the FBI have given up on him saying anything when he calls – and I don’t have to listen to it – I’m feeling optimistic. Stronger. I don’t underestimate the threat; rather, I’m living in the moment.’
Jakob was silent for a moment. ‘Quilla…my love, I said once to you that I didn’t know if I wanted kids. That was monumentally selfish of me and…no, let me finish,’ he smiled as she started to protest. ‘What I should have said is this. I didn’t want kids then. With anyone else. But I do want them with you. I want a bunch of ‘em. If you want them with me.
She was staring at him, bemused. ‘What brought this on?’
Jakob grinned. ‘Just me, growing up at last. I might be catching you up in emotional maturity. What do you say?’
Quilla laughed. ‘Today on Mallory – life changing decisions over breakfast. Can I think about it?’
He clinked his juice glass with hers. ‘Of course. And I don’t mean right now, of course, just something to think about for later.’
Quilla sipped her juice to hide her grin. ‘Charlie Chaplin had kids in his seventies.’
‘I’m not that old, Quilla Chen,’ but he laughed. He reached over and stroked her cheek, and she leaned into his touch.
‘We made it, Mrs. Mallory. We really did.’
Sydney, Australia, 11 p.m.
Red and blue lights. Paramedics and police. SWAT scouring the streets. The press, the paps starting to drift back towards the scene, arguing with the police blocking them from taking pictures, shouting that they were there, they got shot at too, they can tell them what happened – all to no avail.
The paramedics listening to lungs filling with blood, horrific gargling sounds, shouting instructions to each other, compressions and air. The lifting of a prone body into the ambulance. The comforting voices, the fake optimism.
The sound of someone dying.
Seattle, Washington. 9.15 a.m.
Floriana Morgan sat on the couch gazing out of the window at the panoramic view of Seattle. Grady Mallory had bought this apartment for her; she couldn’t quite believe it. Of course, now, it was their home; they shared a bed, a life together. It was all so new and unreal somehow.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat; her injuries from the brutal attack Gregor Fisk had unleashed on her. The healing muscles and organs and flesh were the reason she and Grady had not yet made love…and it was frustrating as all hell.
She sighed unconsciously. Flori looked around her, everything she could want – except to climb all over Grady’s incredible body, feel him inside of her….God…
‘Hey cutie,’ Grady, dressed in a vintage tee and blue jeans was coming through from the reception hall – obviously having been chatting to their security team. Yup, she thought, we have a security team.
‘Hey gorgeous,’ she held her hand out to him, and he took it, flopping down next to her then looking aghast as she winced. Damn you, torn abs - she gritted her teeth against the pain. Grady stroked her hair.
‘Still in pain?’
It was useless denying it, but she tried to lighten the mood. ‘Damn belly doesn’t want me to get laid,’ she grumbled and he half-smiled, but she could see the concern in his eyes.
‘Hey…I’m okay. It’s just taking more time, probably because of the embolism. But I’m still here,’ she touched his face and then brushed her lips against his. ‘Still here.’
‘Forever, promise?’
Her heart missed a beat and she smiled, tears in her eyes. God, this man… ‘I promise. For as long as you want me.’
‘Forever.’
‘Forever then. I love you, Grady Mallory.’
His kiss became more urgent, and she moaned and pulled away. ‘I can’t, not yet. God, I wish…’
‘Ssh, it’s okay. I want you so bad, but I’m not prepared to risk your health.’
He sat back and ran a hand through hi
s messy mop of dark blonde hair and sighed. Flori held his hand. ‘What did Riggs and Murtaugh want?’ she asked, nodding towards the reception.
Grady smiled. ‘Nothing to report. Look, Jakob gave me an idea, and I want to run it by you. I know you want to see colleges and decide where you want to finish your Ph.D. but what do you say to a vacation first?’
Flori looked excited. ‘You mean that island? The one I’ve been dreaming about since Quilla told me about it? That island?’
Grady laughed at her childlike glee. ‘The very one. Weirdly, I’m the only one of us who has never been so it’ll be new to me too.’
‘We can discover it together.’
‘We can…the island and each other. For example, I’ve never asked…you like hiking? Swimming? Exploring? Or are you a sun lounger and paperback kind of girl?’
‘Definitely the first, but I don’t mind what we do as long as I’m with you.’
‘Right back at cha. So, I’ll set it up?’
Flori hesitated. ‘Can we wait a couple of weeks? The thing is, from what Quilla has told me, the island has a very sexy, very sensual vibe and I want to be…ready.’
Grady’s grin was definitely a ‘shit-eating’ one. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, making her laugh. He kissed her. ‘It’s a deal, gorgeous.’
Flori was thrilled, and she hugged him, wincing slightly as her stomach muscles protested. ‘It’ll be like the official start of our relationship.’
Grady buried his face in her hair. ‘The beginning of our life together.’
‘The beginning of our lives…’
Sydney, Australia, 12.15 a.m.
‘Gunshot to the chest, no exit, vitals low and falling. Saline and O-neg were given, but patient is losing it as fast as we can get it in.’
Straight to the operating theater, the surgeon ready for their V.I.P. patient. Anesthesia – even though there was still no response.
Ten-blade. Rib-spreaders. Manual heart massage for nearly an hour. The surgeon looked at the clock. ‘The other one?’
‘Gunshot wound to shoulder, not serious.’
The surgeon, getting exhausted now. Another half hour. Checking the vitals, shaking his head.
‘Not coming back. I’m calling it. Time of death, one fifty-three a.m.’
Seattle, Washington, 11
‘Marley?’
Marley Griffin turned around in the queue to see who had called her name. Randall Mallory, casually dressed, sweater and jeans, waved his paper at her. ‘Lovely to see you.’
Marley looked at the customer behind her in the queue. ‘You go ahead. Hi Randall, how are you?’
‘Good, thank you. We haven’t seen you at the big house of late.’
Marley grimaced. ‘I don’t think Quilla wants to see me.’
Ran shook his head. ‘Give her a chance. She’s a lot better now, more relaxed. ‘
Marley gave him a half-smile. ‘Ran, I appreciate you trying to mediate, but maybe it’s for the best. We move in such different circles now.’
The barista called to her. Ran stepped up. ‘Let me buy you a coffee – have you time to talk?’
Marley hesitated. She really didn’t want to talk about the rift between her best friend and herself – but Ran was such a friendly, warm man, she felt relaxed in his company – and she could do with a stress reliever. ‘Okay.’
They sat in a small booth away from the main café and away from the large flat screen t.v. which flashed rolling news in silence.
Marley stirred her flat white and smiled at Ran shyly. ‘Thanks for the coffee, Ran. Look, I wish things had worked out with Quilla, but sometimes friends drift apart.’
Ran nodded but she could see he wasn’t convinced. ‘Look, pardon me for interfering; I have a tendency to want to make peace. Marley…did you know Quilla and Jakob are married now?’
Marley felt a lump in her throat but she nodded. ‘I read it in the paper,’ she said shortly, and looked away from him so he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. He saw them anyway and she felt his hand cover hers.
‘I’m sorry, Marley, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘’S okay,’ she said thickly then cleared her throat. ‘Let’s talk about something else; I haven’t seen you in here before.’
Ran smiled. ‘I’ll admit, it’s my first time. The coffeehouse I’d been going to for years closed down and I’m loathe to frequent the big chains. I found this one by accident; there’s a great second hand bookstore at the end of the block.’
Marley’s eyes lit up. ‘You go to The Armchair? I love that store…although I wouldn’t have thought that a billionaire would need to shop second-hand.’
Randall laughed and she noticed just how handsome he was, his dark blonde hair streaked through with gray, and his hazel eyes kind and intelligent. ‘Marley Griffin, surely you of all people must know and appreciate the heady scent of old books?’
She inclined her head, conceding his point. ‘I guess I have a fixed idea in my head of how billionaires are supposed to act. Forgive my prejudice.’
Ran studied her. You still don’t like Jakob, though, do you? He can be bloody-minded, surly, domineering,’ he said of his eldest son, ‘But he adores Quilla, would do anything for her. He never saw this thing with Gregor coming.’
Marley leaned forward. ‘But that’s my point, how could he have not?’
‘How many times do you hear the news neighbors of people who have committed atrocity’s saying ‘But he seemed like such a good guy? But she loved those kids?’ People are blinkered.’ He sighed, suddenly seeming tired. ‘We warned Jakob about Gregor. When my wife was alive, she took an instant dislike to the man, but I told her not to say anything to Jakob. Let him make his own mistakes.’
He was silent for a long moment then smiled sadly at her. ‘So, if you’re to blame anyone, blame me.’
Marley shook her head, suddenly feeling emotional. ‘I could never…you’re impossible to dislike, Randall Mallory, gosh damn it.’ She laughed, and he smiled.
‘Good. Listen, this was fun. Say I’m in here tomorrow morning if you’re around I’d like to buy you a coffee and talk some more. I’d like to know about your work.’
Marley flushed pink but nodded. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Good.’ Ran stood and held out his hand. She shook it, smiling, enjoying the feel of her small hand in his big one. ‘Tomorrow then, Marley Griffin.’
‘Tomorrow.’ She watched him walk out, get to the door and glance back at her before leaving. Lovely, lovely man, she thought. Her eyes drifted around the coffeehouse and settled on the flat screen. A reporter was talking to the camera; a ‘Breaking News’ banner ribbon across the bottom of the screen. Wherever the reporter was, it was nighttime; she pondered idly.
Then her heart constricted as a photograph of Kit Mallory, and Bo Kennedy flashed up on the screen. In horror she read the words…shooting….injuries….police... Marley stood and ran. Yanking open the door to the coffee house, she darted out into the street, looking around wildly for Randall Mallory. She saw a figure just entering the bookstore along the block, and she started towards it. Pushing open the door of the store, she searched the shop for him.
She heard a cell phone ring and his voice answering it. She followed the sound of his voice and stopped when she saw him.
The look of utter desolation on his face told her everything she needed to know.
Joel Mallory was about to sign the paperwork to begin work on his first sports center when he heard the door open. He looked up and was surprised to see Nan, her face pale, her expression one of numb disbelief. He went to her immediately, his arms wrapping around her.
‘What? What, baby, what is it?’
She stared up at him, shaking her head. ‘Joel…it’s Kit…’ She couldn’t say any more. Joel pushed her away, staring at her in angry confusion.
‘What? Damn it, Nan, what about Kit?’
She gasped in a breath which turned to a sob. ‘There’s been a shooting, in Sydney…Kit and Bo�
��it’s all over the news.’
Joel kept shaking his head. ‘No…no…what…I need to call my dad.’
He started to walk toward the door when she called him back. She walked up to him.
‘Your dad called me, Joel, to come bring you to the big house. He’s on his way to Sydney…Joel, god, I’m so sorry.’
He was trembling now, ice in his veins. ‘Just say it, Nan. Say it out loud or I won’t believe it. Say it.’
Tears were pouring down Nan’s face now. ‘I’m so sorry, Joel…’
‘Stop fucking saying you’re sorry and tell me!’
His roar filled the room, and Nan quelled under it, but took his hand. ‘Joel…’ Her voice was cracking, ‘Kit was shot, in the chest. They took him to the hospital and tried to save him, but they couldn’t. Joel, Kit died.’
Every single cell in his body was both numb and yet screaming. ‘Kit’s dead?’
Nan nodded and now he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His brother. His twin. Gone forever. His world collapsed.
Kit was dead.
A month later…
Ran Mallory stared out of the window of his mansion. Winter was on its way; the Fall leaves had dropped, and the bleakness look of the trees outside mirrored how Ran felt deep in his soul. He was at a loss to know how he should cope with the loss of his son.
Kit simply hadn’t stood a chance when the shooting started. He had shoved a bleeding and injured Bo into the waiting car and the second it took for him to steady himself, the bullet slammed into his chest. The doctors at Sydney hospital had worked on him for longer than they usually would, knowing the international spotlight would be on them but he’d been dead by the time he got to the hospital.
Montgomery Billionaire Series Page 113
