Bared to the Billionaire: The Complete Series

by Sylvia Pierce

  “It’s over,” she said. “Not just Annandale. All of it. No more heists. No more scores. I’m disbanding the crew.”

  “You can’t do that!” Davidson barked.

  Berezin cleared his throat. It was enough to shut Davidson up.

  Ari looked from Trick, to Keens, to Lilah. She’d known them a long time, as had her father. But in all that time, the thieves’ code had been the only glue that kept them together, and Ari was done letting that code rule her life. This was goodbye. “Here’s where we go our separate ways, guys. For good.”

  Trick swore under his breath, but he nodded. Keens sighed, but he was in agreement, too. Lilah actually smiled—she looked relieved.

  “Looks like you three win the lottery,” Berezin said, gesturing for them to stand. He jerked his head toward the front door. “You were never here. You’ve never heard of anyone here. You don’t know anything.”

  They didn’t need to be told twice.

  Once they were gone, Berezin turned his penetrating gaze on Davidson. Shirokov, the man with the snake tattooed around his neck, was right at Berezin’s side.

  “Mr. Davidson,” Berezin said. “My dear friend Shirokov tells me there have been many complications with my artifact, despite your promises to the contrary.”

  Davidson bowed his head, holding up his hands in surrender. Ari had never seen him so cowardly and small.

  “We… we had a few setbacks early on,” Davidson stammered. “But I assure you, personally, that your artifact is intact. I… I know this morning I said it would be delivered on schedule, but maybe you can have it early. The prick who’s been giving us so many problems with your sculpture is here.”

  “Oh?” Berezin raised an eyebrow, making a show of looking around the room. “I would very much like to meet this prick. Where is he?”

  “Blackwell,” Davidson said, nodding toward Jared. “English cocksucker over there.”

  Berezin said something to Shirokov in Russian and laughed, gesturing toward Jared and the others. Shirokov went to them, freeing Jared, Evan, and Tasha from their bonds. He and another of Berezin’s men helped the trio off the floor and led them to the chairs near the windows. One of them unlocked Tasha’s handcuffs and handed her a bottle of water.

  “But… but…” Davidson was trembling now, his eyes darting back and forth between Ari and Berezin. “You need me. I’m—”

  “Nyet,” Berezin said. “You are not the only one in this city who knows how to procure certain things, comrade. But you are the only one in this room who is lying to me.”

  He snapped his fingers, and two of his men grabbed Davidson’s arms, hauling him up to his feet. They weren’t particularly rough, and neither of them had uttered a word, but Davidson knew in an instant how his story would end. He didn’t need Berezin to spell it out in a dramatic, villainous monologue. His fate was sealed.

  Davidson’s knees buckled beneath him. The men tightened their grip, keeping him upright.

  “Arianne!” Davidson’s eyes were wild with fear, his voice panicked. “Do something. Talk to them. We can work something out. I… there are other artifacts. Just let me get in touch with my contact, and we’ll cut you a deal—”

  “Farewell, comrade,” Berezin said.

  “I practically raised you!” Davidson was shouting at Ari now, his cries desperate and pathetic. “Paid your bills. Bought your clothes. Kept a roof over your head after your father died. Arianne, do something, you ungrateful bitch!”

  At the mention of her father, Ari felt that hot coal ignite in her belly again, but this time, she tamped it out. She wouldn’t give Davidson the satisfaction of unloading on him—she’d given away too much of herself already.

  Never again, asshole.

  “Arianne!” he shouted. “Please!”

  “No,” she said. It was a single word, spoken just above a whisper. It felt like the first time she’d ever said it to Charlie Davidson, yet it was the very last thing she’d ever give the man.

  “Take him out,” Berezin ordered.

  Davidson’s pleas faded as the men hauled him away, dragging him down the corridor and out though the steel doors to an unmarked car in the back lot.

  It was done.

  Ari was free.

  She’d dreamed about Davidson’s demise for so long, that when the time came, she was certain she’d be elated. Instead, she felt only relief.

  For years, Davidson had existed as her boss, her benefactor, her captor. When she tried to imagine him outside of that role—even as a man who’d double-crossed the Bratva and paid the price with his life—she saw only a faceless form sinking into the murky depths of the Atlantic. Davidson was out of her life, plain and simple. She felt neither remorse nor joy at his fate—he was simply gone. Nonexistent.

  She didn’t know whether that made her cold-hearted and cruel, twisted or crazy, or perhaps just shocked and numb. At the moment, she didn’t care. Charlie Davidson’s story had come to its end.

  But there was still one man whose story she did care about—she’d be writing that particular ending herself.

  Ari turned her attention back to Vincent.

  “One piece of shit gone, one more to flush,” Berezin said. He reached into Vincent’s pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping to the driver’s license. “Vincent Michael Podrazza.”

  Ari put her hand on Berezin’s arm. “Thank you. You’ve done more than enough. I’ll take care of this one myself.”

  “As you wish.” Berezin chucked the wallet at Vincent’s chest. “Personally, I would not be so kind. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  “He won’t be looking at me again after today.” Ari said.

  “No, I suppose not.” Berezin holstered his weapon and grabbed Ari’s arms, kissing her once on each cheek. He looked at Vincent again, shaking his head in disgust. “Are you sure you don’t want help? One more is no extra trouble.”

  Ari paused to consider the offer out of courtesy, but after a beat, she shook her head.

  Davidson was one thing—a trade she’d more than willingly made to the Russians, along with their precious dagger, for their help in freeing her sister, stopping the planned heist, and securing her freedom.

  But Vincent? Vincent wasn’t for trading.

  Vincent was the man who’d pulled the trigger and ended her father’s life. Vincent was the man who’d crawled into her bed, making her feel again and again like she should be grateful for the opportunity to service his dick. Vincent was the man who’d roughed her up, who’d taunted her, who’d threatened her baby sister as he pressed his body against Ari’s backside and a gun to her head.

  Vincent was the man Ari would deal with on her own terms.

  “I’m certain,” she said to Berezin. “I’ll handle him.”

  “You know how to reach me,” Berezin said, “should you need my help in the future.” He thanked her again for the dagger, then signaled for his men.

  Moments later, as quickly and quietly as they’d arrived, the Russians were gone.

  Adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Ari raised Vincent’s gun, pointing it right at his face. “Look at me, you son of a bitch.”

  “Fuck you!” he wailed, but Ari was unaffected.

  “Look at me,” she said again. She smiled broadly, knowing it was the very last thing Vincent would see before she sent him straight to hell.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Arianne,” Jared said, low and soft in her ear. He kept his hands light on her shoulders, afraid anything stronger would set her off. “You do not want to do this.”

  Jared wasn’t sure what kind of deal Arianne had made with the Russians, but the moment she’d sent them away without Vincent, Jared realized what she’d been planning.

  He was at her side in an instant. Evan was right behind him.

  “Arianne,” he tried again. “Think about this, love.”

  “No need.” She was out for vengeance, the barrel of the gun now jammed so hard into Vincent’s cheek, Jar
ed thought the man’s teeth would break. Tears fell from her eyes, but her hand was steady.

  She had absolutely every intention of murdering the man.

  Vincent knew it, too. Gone was the tough-guy bullshit he’d thrown at Jared the night he’d walked into Annandale unannounced. Now, cowering on the floor in a puddle of his own piss, he looked up at Jared with the fear of death in his eyes.

  “Please,” he croaked. “I walk out that door, and you never see me again. I swear.”

  “You can’t walk, maggot,” Arianne said.

  “You let the other guys go,” he said. His skin was the color of dirty dishwater.

  “The other guys didn’t murder my father, then crawl into my bed,” Arianne said. “They didn’t kidnap and threaten my sister.”

  Jared leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “If you do this, it will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

  “Like my father’s death?” she shouted. “Like Davidson’s abuse? Like this whole fucking setup?”

  “Arianne—”

  “He killed my father, Jared. He manipulated my father into trusting him, got close, and pulled the fucking trigger. And then he… no. I’m not getting into this again. Shooting him is the kindest thing I can do, believe me.”

  “You’re talking about murder.” Jared let out a breath and squeezed her shoulders. “I can’t bear the thought of looking into those beautiful hazel eyes every day and seeing them haunted by guilt. And believe me, I will be looking into those eyes every day. For the rest of my damn life, Arianne. For the rest of our life.”

  “He means that,” Evan said gently. “He’s been on about it all summer.”

  “I love you, Arianne,” Jared said. “Please don’t do this.”

  Beneath his touch, the tension in her shoulders eased slightly. She still had the gun in Vincent’s face, but she eased off a bit.

  Jared pressed his advantage. “He’s nothing without Davidson. And you’ve got powerful friends who know where he lives. I suspect he won’t even be able to toss off in the shower without written permission from Moscow.”

  Arianne sucked in a breath. Her hands began to tremble, then her legs, and she finally lowered the gun, letting out a cry that was almost inhuman. The man writhing at her feet winced.

  Spineless piece of shit.

  It took every last bit of Jared’s self control not to take that gun out of Arianne’s hands, press it to Vincent’s forehead, and blow his fucking brains out himself.

  But Jared didn’t want that kind of guilt, either. Vincent wasn’t worth it.

  “Give me the gun, love,” Jared said, slowly turning Arianne around to face him. When she looked up at him, Jared saw the weight of her entire life, right there in her beautiful eyes: the fears, the doubts, the loss, the pain. But his woman was a survivor. She was fierce. Determined. And though she’d been hurt, again and again, she would not let a useless little twat like Vincent drag her down. Not now.

  Arianne stared into his eyes, searching. Wordlessly, he continued his pleas, sending her every bit of his love, his dreams for them, his hopes for their future.

  Come on, love. You can do it. Let it go…

  Jared knew the moment she’d made up her mind. Her eyes cleared, her head lifted. It was as though the weight of her past had finally slid from her shoulders.

  She’d done it. She’d beaten the men who’d tried to destroy her.

  “It’s over, love.” Jared held out his hand, and without words, Arianne relinquished the gun.

  He was stuffing it into the back of his waistband when Vincent muttered something from the floor.

  “What was that, arsehole?” Jared asked.

  Vincent held up his hands in surrender. “Can… can I get up? I need to get to the hospital. My… my knee…”

  “Let me help.” Jared hauled him to his feet, then punched him squarely in the face, sending him sprawling. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time we met.”

  Evan stood over Vincent, nudging him with his foot. “You got housed, mate. Housed!”

  Jared rolled his eyes as Evan laughed at his own joke. “You’ve been waiting a year to use that line, haven’t you?”

  Evan shrugged. “It’s all in the delivery though, innit?”

  “Indeed.” Jared sighed, turning his attention back to Vincent. “Do you have a cell on you?”

  Vincent pulled himself to a sitting position against the wall. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Call your friend Kyle Errington,” Jared said. “Tell the old chap his services are no longer needed.”

  “But… then what?” Vincent asked. It seemed he’d utterly lost the plot.

  “Then call yourself an ambulance, you git. That would be the smart thing to do.” Jared scoffed, turning away from Vincent and looking out across the dingy store, still trying to process everything that had transpired there. Everything he’d come so close to losing. Every second chance he’d been given.

  Briefly, he wondered what would happen to the storefront now that its owner wouldn’t be returning, but he dismissed the thought. Like Vincent, Charlie Davidson was one more person Jared was happy he’d never have to consider again.

  At the front of the store, Arianne was on her knees in front of Natasha’s chair, trying desperately to put her arms around her sister. Natasha, who’d been scared silent during the entire exchange, finally found her voice.

  “Don’t touch me!” She pulled free of Arianne’s grasp. When Arianne tried to touch her again, Natasha wound up and slapped her across the face.

  Tears filled Arianne’s eyes, but she didn’t flinch. She threw her arms around her sister again and held tight, refusing to let go, even when Natasha tried to break free. Eventually, the girl stopped struggling, collapsing into her big sister’s embrace.

  Natasha was shaking. With fear, relief, rage, or all of the above, Jared wasn’t certain. But she clung to Arianne like a life preserver, and the sight of the two of them in tears damn near shredded his heart.

  He and Evan hung back, giving Arianne and Natasha a few moments alone.

  Evan clamped a hand down on Jared’s shoulder. “All sorted, then?”

  Jared nodded, searching for the words to thank Evan, to let him know how much his friendship meant. He opened his mouth several times, only to clam up again. Those right words just wouldn’t come.

  “I know,” Evan said, saving him the trouble. “You couldn’t have done it without me, I’m the best mate a bloke could ever have, you love me to the moon and back, et cetera, et cetera.”

  Jared met his friend’s eyes. There were a dozen words on the tip of his tongue now, the usual insults and zingers he saved especially for Evan. But this time, all he said was, “You’re absolutely right, Evan. About everything. Et cetera, et cetera.”

  Arianne and Natasha were finally getting up, dusting themselves off. They weren’t arguing now, but there was a distance between them, an icy tension that Jared suspected would take a bit of time to repair.

  At least they’re safe. Both of them.

  “Get me out of here,” Natasha said.

  “Come on,” Evan said, offering a warm smile. He’d managed to clean most of the blood from his face, but he still looked like a punching bag. Jared could only imagine what his own face looked like. “I’ll take you to the car.”

  Natasha scrubbed her hands over her eyes. When she looked up again, her face was clear. Determined. Jared couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to her older sister, and the thought put him at ease. They were strong. Fighters, both of them.

  “Actually, can we get some pizza?” she asked. “I’m basically starving.”

  Evan looked to Arianne.

  “Sure. We’ll be right behind you,” Arianne said. “I just need a minute.”

  “Let’s go find a table, then,” Evan said. “Preferably in a dark corner where no one can see my bad side.”

  “It’s all bad side, mate,” Jared said.

  “Precisely. Shall we?” Evan
held out his arm, and Natasha looped hers through it, following him out the front door as if her entire ordeal had just been another day in the life.

  It was in that moment that the full weight of what had transpired finally hit Jared. If he hadn’t fallen for Arianne, if the heist had gone on as planned, if Arianne had stayed in Davidson’s crew… events like this would be just another day in the life. For Arianne and her sister.

  Bloody hell.

  “Thank you,” Arianne said, pulling him out of his thoughts. There was no point in thinking them, anyway. Because he had fallen for her. They’d stopped the heist. They’d stopped Davidson and Vincent, disbanded the whole crew. And now, he’d do everything in his power to ensure Arianne and Natasha had a normal life. A safe life. A loving home filled with warmth and laughter. So many of the things they’d missed out on growing up.

  “Why are you thanking me?” Jared asked. “I’m the one who should—”

  “No. You never gave up on me,” she said. “Even when you learned the truth about me, you were willing to listen. To give me a chance. Even when I tried to say goodbye, you wouldn’t hear it. And back there with Vincent?” She nodded toward the back wall where Vincent still slouched, muttering into his cell. “I was teetering on the edge. I was so, so close, Jared. But you didn’t let me fall.”

  “I never will, love.” Jared pulled her to his chest, enveloping her in his arms. She trembled in his embrace, adrenaline still working its way through her system. He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head up, meeting her eyes. He still couldn’t believe that this gorgeous woman had spent her formative years as a thief, and had graduated to making backdoor deals with Russian mobsters and taking down bad guys with moves she’d learned in a video game. His video game.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked, gently running her fingers over his swollen lips. Her touch was the best medicine he could ever hope for. “What are you thinking about?”

  Jared grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “Just thinking about what a badass you are. You truly earned your avatar name today, Crusher of Balls. I may have to hack into my own system and level up your character manually.”